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gretavanlace · 1 year ago

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Sugar II (part 4)

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, language, angst, digital penetration, unprotected sex, dirty talk, cheating, lightly edited and I’m sorry for any typos, etc

*also, we all knew I was going to use this pic eventually, because ohhh myyy goddd. I don’t know who I should kneel down in thanks for this, but goddamn

Jake twists the ring around on your finger, studying it to avoid your eyes.

You wish it would disappear. And you know that isn’t right, but you wish it all the same. It breaks your heart to feel the intensity of his watchful, heated gaze upon it. Though it’s got nothing on the way his own seems to be caving in on itself within his chest. And he doesn’t need to tell you that for you to feel it.

His voice comes softly, straining against the aching lump you can hear in his throat, “Daniel warned me, as if it would change anything, as if I might not want to see you - but I didn’t believe him. Didn’t want to.”

He holds your hand a little tighter when you try to pull away, and abandons the ring in favor of meeting your teary stare.

“Don’t cry, sugar,” his gentle smile doesn’t meet his eyes as his thumbs drift soothingly over the backs of your hands. “You know I can’t stand it. What’s his name?”

You can’t bear for him to exist in this room between yourself and Jacob, and offer a shake of your head in lieu of responding.

“Know your enemy, and all that, love.” He prods, but again, you deny him.

“He’s not your enemy.”

There are his palms again, so warm and familiar as he cradles your face like some long forgotten song you’ve just remembered the melody to. You want to sing it forever.

Here, leaned back against tastefully textured hotel wallpaper, in a robe that smells of bleach, you feel more alive than you have in years…as if you’ve been asleep this entire time and he has just tapped you awake…time to wake up, sugar.

“Do you love him? Do you love him the way you love me?” It ghosts from his lips, the softest accusation you’ve ever heard.

Your answer comes swift and sure, without hesitation, but just as quietly, “I’ll never love anyone the way I loved you.”

Thumbs drifting over your lips now, he tilts his head and proves how transparent you really are standing here before him, “Loved?”

You want to cling to him, to curl up against his body and bury your face in his hair. To lick against his throat and suck his bottom lip through the tears you’re fighting so diligently.

Instead, you weakly offer up a fact, “I’m getting married.”

He’s closer now, clutching your face in his hands as the tip of his nose nudges against yours, “That isn’t what I asked. Do you know how much I love you? How much I’ve always loved you? How much I’m always going to love you? You think I can’t feel it? You think I can’t feel it in your entire body right now? That I can’t see it? That I can’t smell it? The way you love me? It pours out of your heart the same as it bleeds from mine.”

Maybe he thinks you look taken aback - though you aren’t - because he follows up closely with, “I’m not gonna stand here and pretend to have some mundane conversation with you and dance around what needs to be said. We’re way past that. I think we always have been.”

Pushing him back, you make your way deeper into the room. Space, that’s what you need…just a little space.

He follows, but maintains a respectful distance as he watches you move and shuffle around to avoid him.

Finally, when he can stand it no longer, he sinks down onto the bed that smells of you and reaches deep inside himself, searching around for that heart of his that you’ve always owned. He’d like to return it to you. “Do you want some truth?”

Easing down on the opposite end, perched like you’re readying to flee, you shake your head, “Probably not. But I have a feeling I’m going to get it anyway.”

“I’m not well, sugar.” He confesses, easing back to stare up at the ceiling. “That’s not your problem…but I’m willing to bet you’re not well either. What we have, it could never be one-sided, and that’s how I know you’re a fucking liar with that ring on your finger. You’re gonna ache for me forever, just like I ache for you.”

All at once, you’re a little angry. But why? Because he’s right? Because damn him for saying what shouldn’t be said? Pushing that aside, you brace to stand your ground and rise from the bed, preparing to show him out before this goes any further.

“You can’t just walk in here and act like you still know me,” his eyes track you like they’ve never seen anything lovelier, or more frightening. “You don’t know me, and you don’t know him, and you can’t just show up and start saying things like that. Josh was right, this isn’t good. You should go.”

Now anger colors his inflection as well as he stands to trail along behind you. “‘Josh was right’, don’t you fucking dare bring him into this room with us.”

“He is always going to be in the room with us, he always was…or have you forgotten why everything imploded to begin with?”

He’s stalked you into a corner now, reaching for you like you’re a cool, placid pool of aquamarine water and he has forgotten what it’s like to swim.

You shouldn’t, you fucking know you shouldn’t…but you reach out for him as well, a silent plea. Touch me. Hold me. Love me.

“Is he always going to be in the room with us? When your heart breaks, does it break for him? Is it Josh that you long for in the dark? Is it Josh that you mourn late at night when you lie beside him?” His eyes flicker toward your ring and then back to your face, searching for truths you refuse to give. “Because I don’t think it’s either one of them that can fill that hole inside you. I think that hole inside you is shaped exactly like me.”

He’s so close now, the soft wisps of hair that decorate his forearms skating beneath your touch. The strange shampoo you don’t recognize does nothing to mask the scent of him…so unchanged, so home.

“They aren’t here.” He whispers, lips barely a sigh at the corner of your mouth. “Lie to me and tell me you don’t feel it. Three years or thirty, sugar…we’re always gonna be us.”

“Jake…”

“Just talk to me,” he rests his temple against your collarbone, gentle as a feather. “I miss you every fucking second of every fucking day and it hurts so badly. Just…just talk to me. Just be here with me. Just be here, baby.”

You give in and run your fingers through his hair, holding him against you. “Why are we always in hotel rooms?”

His weight melds into you, muscles relaxing as he nuzzles into your tentative embrace. “I don’t care where we are. None of it matters. Fuck, sugar…I miss you. I didn’t even know it was possible to hurt like this. I’m terrified I’m going to wake up any second. Then again, you always did feel like a dream.”

Silence tiptoes into the room, enveloping you both as your lungs sync, arms wrapped around and clinging to one another. There is a near constant pinprick within your heart - it pokes and needles at you day and night, a tangible reminder of your loss��

But here, with him holding onto you and you holding on to him, it has gone away. Here, it’s hard to believe it ever existed at all.

“I’m so afraid all the time,” he whispers, breath warm against your chest, “so afraid that I’m going to forget this. That some terrible morning I’m going to open my eyes and realize I’ve forgotten what it feels like to hold you.”

“I’ll never forget what it feels like when you hold me.” You breathe, stroking through his hair.

“You said you don’t love him like you loved me. Like you love me,” he’s breathless now too, and clutching at you like you might dissolve into nothing under his fingertips. Breathing heavily like he’s walked a thousand miles just to be this close to you. “But does he? Does he love you right? Does he love you the way you deserve? Does he listen to you like you’re music and drink you in like art? Does he touch you like you’re sacred?”

His hands are wandering now, and you let them. You want them to wander.

His index finger eases inside your robe, tickling against the swell of your breast as his mouth charts a lingering path up your jaw until it kisses against the shell of your ear, “Does he fuck you like I did?”

“Jakey,” you gasp, just before sucking that ragged breath right back in, and his entire body stills.

“I’ve been waiting to hear you call me that since you opened the door,” his confession is winded and unsteady, “Say it again, pretty girl. Say it again.”

Once more, you call his name, and then your head is falling back to meet the wall, making room for his velvet mouth to chart slow maps over your throat.

You’re desperate to absorb him inside of yourself somehow, to carry him with you always. His tongue, soft as suede and tasting of buttery lust, slips against your own and he swallows the whimper that sounds softly out of you.

“One more time, sugar,” he’s speaking into your mouth as he makes love to your tongue between words. “Just let me have you one more time. The last time, I didn’t know…I would have paid more attention. I would have memorized you. Just once…I’ll live on it for the rest of my life.”

You’re fighting some faceless inner demon that you wish would go away, and he sees right through you, “You want me, sugar?” He’s kissing and sucking at your lips like he’s starved, “because it feels like you do. It feels like maybe you want this just as badly as I do. It feels like you need this. Your whole body is trembling.”

Arching away from the wall, you press against him.. Hungry. Desperate. Burning in the white hot flames of your need. This is wrong, and you shouldn’t do it. But you’re going to anyway…there’s never been any stopping the two of you. The invisible string that tethers you to one another refuses to snap.

“Touch me,” it pants out of you with such shaken aggression that his grip on you tightens, longing to hold on to that throbbing desire.

“Where, baby?” God, how you’ve missed his voice this way. Hot and soft, cashmere filth fanning across your cheek. “Have you missed my hands? Tell me where.”

“Anywhere,” and you mean it, but your legs are spreading for him all on their own, pulling open and disheveling your borrowed robe.

Then, there they are…those warm, searching fingers, hooking into your panties, teasing over you, reacquainting themselves with your swollen clit.

“My sugar…” he sounds winded, and a little close to tears, though his eyes remain clear and steady, locked with your own. “How could you go away and leave me? How, baby? You broke my heart. It feels like I’m dying, but the end never comes. Fucking purgatory.”

Holding onto him like you’ll never let him go, the shame flushes your cheeks and rips through your soul, “You know why, Jake.”

He’s easing inside now, deftly seeking that blissful little spot within you…his fingers tuck in against it as the words come undulating behind the flash of pleasure, “Do you think of me when he’s inside you? Do you close your eyes and find me hidden away in that gorgeous mind of yours? Do I wait for you there when he fucks you? When he takes what’s mine?”

“Jake,”

You’re rocking against his hand now, fucking and grinding into his touch, but he’s having none of it. He wants what belongs to him - your admission - and he will have it. “Tell me. Do you? Do you think of me when he’s fucking you? Do you close your eyes and fuck me instead?”

“Yes! Fuck, I try,” it sobs out of you as you bury your hands in his hair, shoving his mouth against your neck just to feel his tongue lick along your pounding pulse. “But he isn’t you. No matter how hard I fucking try, he isn’t you. No one will ever be you.”

You’ve hardly had a blink to register being yanked away from the wall before you’re being guided somewhere. Bed? Floor? It matters little. His hand continues to work you into a frenzy as his own confession blurs your head. “Me too, sugar. I look for you in all of them. And I run from you with all of them, too. It never works either way. You never leave me alone because you’re my fucking girl, do you hear me? You’re my whole fucking life.”

When your back hits the mattress you dissolve into a frantic nod, “I’m your girl, Jakey, Forever. Haven’t you always known that? Haven’t you always felt it?”

His left hand wraps around your throat, gently possessing you as his right fucks you closer and closer to that bright and beautiful end, “No. I haven’t. You watched me beg you to stay and you left anyway. You just fucking left….you should’ve killed me instead, it would have been a kindness.”

You want to answer him, really you do, there is so much to say, but he’s gotten you far too close and the words melt away on your tongue like spun sugar as tiny puffs of air begin to flutter his hair.

“That’s it,” he nods, eyes flickering with rapt attention over your face, “There’s my fucking baby. C’mon, little girl, let go for me. Cum sweet, right in my hand. Right here in my fucking palm so I can lick you up. Wanna taste it, sugar.”

“Jake, don’t stop,” you’d nearly forgotten what it’s like to beg for him. What it’s like when he has you peering over that sharpened edge just before the fall. “Please, please, please, oh god, please,”

With a jerking twist of his wrist he throws you up into the stars dancing behind your eyes, praising you with choked words you can’t seem to decipher no matter how badly you’d like to.

He thinks he might like to cease to exist in this moment…if this is all he’ll have of you, this is where he wants to take his leave - hovered over his beloved as she shakes and breaks apart so ethereally beneath him.

And for a moment, he wonders if any of this is real. If you’re real. How is it that he has found himself here with you after all this agonizing time? How is it that he opened his eyes this morning and didn’t know you were near? But, wait…did he know? Is that why everything felt so off kilter?

His forehead finds yours as your eyes blink open, dazed and stunning, “I felt you.” Words not much more than a hush, he slips his hand from between your legs and sucks his fingers into his mouth, groaning at the taste of you as though he is in pain, “I did.” Tongue lapping at your lips now, you can taste yourself lingering in his kiss, “Close, I mean. It makes sense now…how I felt. I knew you were close.”

There is a sudden rush of an emotion you can’t name twisting up within you, clawing at your heart, wringing at your soul. It isn’t love, it’s something more. It’s like the night your eyes first landed on his face all those ages ago…that ancient pull, as if you’d been encrypted in the stars, molded by the gods for one another, destined to search for each other across time. Bound and certain. Inevitable.

You need more of him, though he’s pressed into you, mouth licking and teasing at your breasts as he whispers your name like a wounded prayer.

“Inside, Jake,” you’re pulling at his shirt now, furious that it exists, you ache for his skin against your own.

“Yeah?” He rips it over his head and watches down over you. A deity with a half-grin on his lips and hell in his eyes. “You want me inside? Do you miss me there? Do you miss my cock, fuck doll? Does your sweet little pussy cry for me? Hmm? Does she weep for her Jakey?”

Jesus. He is so perfectly vulgar. Vile and shameless. And you’re weak for it, you’ve missed it so, your body is sparking and popping with it. Alive, alive, alive.

A sound you didn’t know you were even capable of making chokes out of your lungs. Devotion drips off of his tongue in the form of obscenities that make you clench around nothing, and you’d lick up every drop if you could.

Hands delving into his sweats now, you nod frantically, bowing your back to arch closer to him, sucking your mark into his chest where it has been absent for far too long. “Yes, yes, I miss your cock, Jakey. Want it so bad. I fucking need it. Give it to me, give it give it give it…”

You trail off, pink in the cheeks and ashamed of yourself. You sound like a petulant, spoiled child. Demanding and spoon-fed.

He, on the other hand, adores it, and wishes to listen to you stomp your feet for him every day for the rest of his life. “You go ahead and throw your little fit, pretty girl,” a hiss sucks in through his teeth when you wrap your fist around his cock to find his heart beating wildly for you there. “I’m gonna give you what you need. Gonna give it to you, baby, aren’t I? Don’t I always give you what you need? Or have you forgotten?”

An airy, “Please,” is all you can manage when he softly pushes your hand away and begins circling your clit with his lush, swollen tip.

Shoving the waistband of his sweats down just far enough that you can dig your nails into the tops of his thighs, you pull him in and whine beneath him when the head of his beautiful cock nestles inside you.

“Does he make you cum, sugar?” His voice tingles over your skin like crushed velvet, melting you, teasing you, making love to you like music even though his words are tiny daggers. “Does he fuck you until the sheets are ruined? Does he change them for you while you lie around, soft and spent, talking about silly things? Do you pine for his cock in your pretty cunt when he pulls out and leaves you feeling empty?”

He’s fucking you harder now, and already, you’re just so, so close. “I don’t want to talk about him. Shut up.”

“Why not?” He dips down and bites at your lip before licking into your mouth, “You love him enough for this,” your ring finger is presented to you, and then there is his wet, pink tongue lapping over the diamond, claiming it, claiming you, “but you don’t want to talk about him? C’mon, little girl, tell me all about him. Tell me how much you love him. Tell me how good he makes you feel.”

He knows better. Fuck him for wanting you to say it when he knows better.

“No,” it gasps out of you as he rolls his hips, nudging against your sweet spot exactly right, like he was just there yesterday. He remembers you perfectly.

“Why not, sugar?” He sounds winded and gorgeous, sucking blooms of heat against your throat. “Say it.”

“No,” you cry the word like praise, clawing into his back as he nods for you to dig in deeper.

“Fucking say it.” Fucking into you posessively between each word, he drags the truth from you.

“Because he doesn’t fucking matter.” Oh, what a wretched, vile, horrible bitch you are. “It’s just you, Jake…it’s only you. It’s you, it’s you, it’s you…”

He nods again, feverishly now as melodic moans begin to tremble out of him, sweeping you further under, “Take it off.”

“Hmm?” It hums out of you, hardly a sound at all you’re so lost in him.

“Take,” he pushes inside you deeply…it hurts in such a euphoric way tears prick at the backs of your eyes, “it,” again, “off.” and again.

His mouth searches out your finger and descends down around it, sucking fiercely as the tip of his tongue swirls along until you’re shuddering with goosebumps. When he pulls away, the ring comes along for the ride, only to be spat out against the sheets.

“Mine, sugar,” his resolve is weakening, he sounds soft behind the aggression. Lost underneath the possessive edge. “You’re fucking mine. I love you, baby. Fuck, I love you so much. Tell me, pretty girl, please, tell me.”

“I love you, Jake.” Your hands are tangled into his waves, pulling and petting at them, so silken, such a mess, “love isn’t the word. There are no words. There are no fucking words. Oh fuck, please, make me cum, make me cum…”

“Come on, sugar,” he urges, teeth skating along the column of your gasping throat, “you just let go. So pretty on my cock, so tight, so fucking warm. My little piece of heaven. That’s your cock isn’t it, baby? That’s your fucking cock. C’mon, soak it like a good girl, yeah?”

“Yeah,” your nails are raking across his back brutally but you can’t seem to stop.

“Yeah?” He’s right there, you can hear it in his breath, you can feel it in his rigid muscles, in the way his cock is twitching violently within your slick grip. “Are you my good girl, sugar? Still so goddamn good for me after all this time. Still just my best fucking girl?”

“Your best girl…” your chest is heaving against his as you scratch and tear at him, you need him closer and closer. He’s vibrating and growling, gnashing his teeth into your shoulder, completely wild and carnal. “Inside, Jakey,” you yank at his hair, snapping the order through grinding teeth, “cum inside me. I need it, baby. I need you inside me..”

“Say you love me,” his forehead, glazed with sweat and overheated, nestles into the crook of your neck, “say you fucking love me, sugar. Say it.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” it is a hymn, an antiphon just for him, secreted into this anonymous room where no one else can hear as you finally break…exploding into something otherworldly, something you only ever are with Jake…

He tears you apart so beautifully and then stacks you back together like his body has always known yours.

When he spills inside you, his body is rocked with it; his lips licked slick and shiny as filth and praise tumble off his tongue like nonsense in the haze of it all.

He wants to live in this moment, never ending and perfect, and you know that because you want it too, and you can feel it like soft spring rain misting over your skin. You can feel him like rain and you want to lie back and drown in it all.

Lifting his face away from where his mouth as been consuming you, never wont to miss that faraway full of love look in your eye, he catches your gaze and destroys you with his.

He is beauty, and love, and art, and sex, and life, and how you’ve missed him.

His plea gently breaches the calm “Don’t look for it, sugar.”

Confused, you furrow your brow, so immersed in him you’ve forgotten everything else.

“The ring,” he clarifies through a gentle kiss, “don’t look for it. Stay with me, baby. Stay.”

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douglysium · 8 months ago

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Episode 12 TMP Quick Thoughts

Housekeeping and Prologue

Hello, this is Douglysium and you might not know me as that guy who wrote over 100 pages of analysis on the Eye (which can be read on Tumblr here (https://douglysium.tumblr.com/post/735599414228484097/the-relationships-between-the-dread-powers-the) or Google Docs here (The Relationships Between the Dread Powers: The Eye- Knowledge is Fear and Ignorance is Bliss)) or as that guy who wrote an article on the Extinction (which can be read on Tumblr here(https://douglysium.tumblr.com/post/717929126195003392/what-would-avatars-of-the-extinction-be-like-a) and Google Docs here(What would Avatars of the Extinction be like?: A TMA Speculation)). Suffice to say I might be a bit of a TMA fan. Also, spoilers for TMP up until episode 10. You can read my ramblings on the last episode here (Episode 11 TMP Quick Thoughts).

However, Protocol offers a very unique opportunity and experience for me because I didn’t actually get into TMA until after it was over and I binged all of it. So this is my first time experiencing something even remotely similar to what the original TMA fans probably experienced when waiting for each episode week by week and slowly having to put everything together with the limited information they had. So I decided to throw my hat into the ring since this might be my only chance to do something similar. However, I’m working on some longer form TMA content so I can’t spend as much time on these articles giving a bunch of super detailed thoughts. I will try to keep these short and that inevitably might mean some could have questions about why I think or predict certain things and in those cases I would probably recommend you read at least some of the two articles I mentioned above to get a better idea of where I’m coming from. This also means I won’t be giving you a play-by-play of every single thing that happens in the episode so I encourage you to listen to or read them yourselves and feel free to comment if you feel something is important.

These reviews are probably going to end up focusing mostly on the Entities and their manifestations as they are what I have thought about the most and spent the most time interpreting and there’s been a lot of… interesting theories floating around about how the Entities are manifesting that I want to go over.

Finally, I’m just going to say it right now, spoiler warning for all of The Magnus Archives. I know that Jon and co said one could start with Protocol and be fine, and while that’s probably true, media like this tends to be made in conversation with or take into consideration what came before it in the irl chronology in order to connect them. While I’m sure you could skip The Magnus Archives, I don't really see the point of skipping over it when we are already getting characters from TMA showing up in TMP in Protocol. So to me it’s pretty clear that if we want to understand the full picture of TMP and all the things it is trying to say then we can’t just try to pretend TMA doesn’t exist or scrub it away. Just because you could understand what’s happening without the context in broad strokes doesn’t mean you're getting all the nuances.

These articles are meant to be quick and short so sorry if there’s typos and if I don’t address every possible question or possibility. I don’t want to repeat myself too much in this series outside of the prologue so be sure to skim some of my other articles.

Episode 12 “Getting Off”

I think this episode is definitely one of the more straightforward Protocol episodes we have gotten so far, so hopefully this Quick Thoughts won’t br too long (but knowing me I probably just jinxed it).

We take in the scene through a CCTV in the breakroom of the OIAR at night. The transcripts clarify that Celia is very tired and searching through the cupboards for something and it is quickly made apparent that she is looking for tea and, since the break room has run out, Sam gives Celia a teabag from a secret stash that he apparently has. Sam then asks Celia out on a date and while she is busy at the moment she does show that she is willing to go out with Sam on “Saturday, 6? under the clock at Leicester Square. That work? We’ll go for dinner- well, breakfast- you know what I mean.” Once again, we see that the OIAR jobs appear to be very exhausting and have odd work hours. I also wonder what Celia’s end goal is. Does she genuinely like Sam or does she see him as means to an end. Is Celia here to help Sam and co or is she here to harm them?

As Celia leaves, Alice walks in and proceeds to make fun of Sam for clearly being extremely nervous as he asked out Celia. Alice says “(normal again) You know it’s rude to have absolutely no game? Christ, all these years and you still ask people out like a baby foal learning to tapdance.” A reference to the fact that she and Sam dated at some point, and how Sam probably acted very similarly when trying to ask her out. Sam does point out “Look it worked didn’t it?” which seems like it could be a sort of double meaning. Sam’s nervous approach got Celia to agree to a date but also Alice presumably agreed to go out with him in the past too.

Sam apologizes to Alice for dragging her to the ruins of the Institute only to fund nothing… well nothing Sam and Alice know about since something escaped the Institute. Sam says he’s done with Magnus stuff and Alice responds with “So you’re telling me that if I had a case full of emails with the title “Magnus Institute re: Samama Khalid – Massive Conspiracy” you wouldn’t be tempted?” to which Sam says no before asking “You don’t, though. Do you? That was just, like, a joke. Right?” Alice then says “Come on, for now let’s just focus on getting you as jaded and apathetic as possible.” Considering that Alice does appear to be pretty jaded about listening to the cases and piecing them together this could be related to her point about ignoring the talkers and not getting caught up in thinking too much about what’s happening.

NORRIS starts expositing the next case

“Claim Review: EL-56920

Policy Holder: Soho Jack’s Ltd.

Policy Number: 548651-656

Policy Type: Employers’ Liability

Site Address: Soho Jack’s, 9 Carlisle St, London W1D 3BK

Affected Employee: Ms. Jordan Bennett

Date of Incident: 9 March 2024

Incident Location: On site.

Documentation: Crime Report – Submitted

Medical Practitioner Report – Submitted

Incident Book Entry – Submitted First Aider’s Report – Submitted

Supervisor’s incident Report - Submitted

HSE communications - Submitted

Health-And-Safety policies - Submitted

Employment Contract - Submitted

Claim Valuation: £1,560,000 Assessment

Conclusion: Claim Denied Reason: Fraudulent claim (see incident description and police report)”

This, along with some information Jordan mentions later, means Jordan is suing Soho Jack’s Ltd. They go on to say that their lawyer has advised them to cooperate with Soho Jack’s insurance claim as a show of good faith, even if they’re planning on “suing your asses to kingdom-come.” They start recounting an event that occurred on the company’s property and apologize for their terrible handwriting (which we later learn is probably because Mr. Bonzo bit off one of their hands).

They go over how they started working at Jack’s in the spring of 2021 after they had finished Flair Academy. After struggling to find a job they managed to get an interview and then job at the aforementioned Jack’s. The club seems to have a good reputation as Jordan refers to it as “the Soho Gentleman’s club.” The company’s building “...has dances on the bottom two floors with VIP suites for hire above with a dedicated bouncer keeping them separate. Really, it’s just a quieter box with a private bar, some comfy chairs and the option of private dancers.” Despite this being “THE” Soho Gentleman’s club Jordan says “It’s always booked up with swank dickheads trying to show off, but Stags are the worst: they’re cheap, they’re loud, they drink too much, tip too little and only ever hire one dance for the groom. Plus there’s always some “nice guy” that won’t shut up about exploitation without even bothering to stop staring.”

Jordan begins to explain how the party the specific party that led to them wanting to sue Jack’s. They state that this specific party’s lot was not the worst and were “Just a bunch of heavyset, middle-aged lads with names like Ozzer, or Rozzer or whatever. ” and notes that “The groom was fine, acted embarrassed even though he was obviously keen and they were easily pleased. ”

“They started giving the groom gifts. Same old tat as always, cufflinks, poo gags, all the standard stuff. Then the groom spotted the last one on the table, this cheap yellow and purple kids lunch box. It looked old and shoddy and no one admitted to bringing it but the groom just squealed with glee and carefully opened it before pulling out a bunch old souvenir merch. Pencils, postcards, keyrings, all sorts of crap, all the same yellow and purple and last of all a cracked CD case. When they saw it the whole bunch gave this big laughing cheer.” I have talked about how I think Mr. Bonzo is probably tied to The Stranger if we view him through the lens of Smirke’s 14. I will retread some of those reasons later but right now I want to point out that no one admitted to bringing the Bonzo CD. It could simply be that it’s a prank and someone happened to grab an artifact or something tied to Bonzo, and maybe someone from the OIAR even planted it there, but it could also be connected to the idea of The Stranger and the fear of the unknown because it could be that no one actually knows who got that CD.

We also know that The Stranger is no… stranger to dropping off or delivering strange artifacts in order to feed on the fear of people interacting with unknown /mysterious objects. Breekon and Hope’s delivery service are a good example of this (strangers that show up and drop off never before seen or uncanny objects and artifacts).

“I could see which way the wind was turning and sure enough the bestman came over and asked if he could play it. The cover had this awful comic sans title: “Mr. Bonzo’s On His Way” and I wasn't exactly thrilled by this.” Jordan explains that “Mr. Bonzo was way before my time and from what I had seen online he had always looked pretty messed up. But hey, it was their night, if they wanted to spend it on some cringy nostalgia trip, who was I to say no?” Which could mean that Jordan doesn’t know a lot about Mr. Bonzo, and lack of familiarity with something is one of the things that we know entities like The Stranger love to prey on.

“This kind of thing happened often enough that we kept a battered old CD Player in the back that we could patch into the room's speakers, just in case. So, I ducked back there, put it on, turned the volume down as low as I could get away with, and prayed it wasn’t too obnoxious. Immediately the cheering children’s voices blared out the speakers accompanied by bouncy tubas loud enough to drown out the rest of the club’s music. It was awful but I could hear the lads stamping the floor in rhythm and as the kids started singing the men were singing along: “Mr. Bonzo’s on his way, he wants to stay, he wants to play! Mr. Bonzo’s on his way, he wants to stay, he wants to play!” If you want to listen to the song Jordan is referring to it is actually available on Youtube: Mr Bonzo (from 'The Magnus Protocol'). Maybe you can put yourself in the shoes of an annoyed Jordan or ecstatic old man at the club.

Jordan clearly finds the song annoying and after waiting a minute, in order to avoid being a “total killjoy,” they decide to turn off the song before “ Derek came down from the office to “have a word.” I assume Jordan meant Derek would complain about the music. However, when Jordan turns the CD player off it “...just grew louder, rattling the glassware in the bar: “Mr. Bonzo’s on his way, he wants to stay, he wants to play!” I even yanked the cables from the speakers, but it just kept getting louder.” Obviously, something supernatural is going on but Jordan reasonably assumes that the player just broke and begins to reach for their walkie talkie in order to call for some tech support. However, as they do so they are interrupted by a massive crash coming from another part of the room followed by a cheer. Jordan gets ready to reprimand the party goers for whatever mess they might have made but instead sees Mr. Bonzo. “It was hunched in the doorway, a bulbous figure with a purple hat that cast crazed shadows in all directions thanks to the club’s lighting effects. Then it doffed its hat and pushed itself into the room, foam catching on the doorframe with a squeak that set my teeth on edge. Its massive bulbous google-eyes seemed to roam all over the room before settling on the groom and it was almost as if the huge toothy grin grew wider when it saw him.” We know that Gwen delivered a name and address to Bonzo and in the previous episode Lena even tells Gwen “I’m sure you’ve already worked that out. But just in case you haven’t, keep an eye on the case loads over the next few days. It should become abundantly clear.” Implying that this could be the case Lena was alluding to or that the groom (or someone else in the room) is Bonzo’s target (but it’s almost definitely the groom).

Everyone in the room assumes the appearance of Bonzo is some sort of gift or prank and “The rugby boys were tripping over themselves to get in and hug it, laughing and pushing the groom to the front and so I figured at that point it was a prank. Again, none of them took credit for it and there was a moment of genuine hesitation, until one of them yelled out “It's ya lapdance, Baz!” and they all fell about laughing.” Jordan is furious that a coworker named Joey presumably let Bonzo in and the idea that Joey might have bailed on Jordan again by “ducking out for a smoke.” But as Jordan moves forward they notice something- “I began to stride over, readying for the inevitable complaints then hesitated as I saw something far more unnerving than the ugly costume that was capering with the groom in the middle of the group. There was a pair of heavy boots on their side, poking just inside the still open doorway. Joey’s boots, and they weren't moving. Just then the google eyes looked turned to me, and a puffy finger raised cheekily to its mouth.” So Joey was killed by Bonzo and all the while “the men had all started chanting “Bonzo! Bonzo! Bonzo”, stamping their feet and banging the tables in a circle around the pair in the center…” and the music kept getting louder. So loud that it began to sound distorted from the strain the song was putting on the speakers.

Out of all the Entities the Slaughter seems to have a pretty strong connection to music but The Stranger also has a strong precedent for music. For example, The Calliope in TMA is an artifact tied to The Stranger. In MAG 024 (Strange Music) it is mentioned that the instrument has "Be still, for there is strange music" carved into the cover of the keyboard. While The Slaughter’s connection to music is probably due to an association between rhythm and war (think the marching of an army or the phrase “drums of war”) as well as the fear of “violent” music, The Stranger’s connection to music seems to come from the idea of either strange unknown sounds or a song / sound that sounds really uncanny. It is noted by Jordan that Mr. Bonzo’s song grows louder and more distorted overtime which would mean that the song is becoming more and more incomprehensible as it would slowly change into a song with lyrics you couldn’t understand or identify as easily. It could also be that the song sounds uncanny in the sense that it is familiar in some ways but something is off about it.

Jordan tries to call for help on his walkie talkie but can only hear Mr. Bonzo’s theme blaring out of its tiny speaker. Jordan tries to warn everyone and get out but no one can hear him over the music. Bonzo takes the groom and begins to “dance” with him by spinning around faster and faster until Bonzo decides to rip his arms off and even as this act of gorey brutality took place the other party goers present continued to laugh and laugh until Jordan’s scream caused them to realize this wasn’t some sort of prank. Almost everyone begins to yell in terror but some yelled in rage and proceeded to attack Bonzo: “A few of the bigger guys picked up chairs or bottles and began to beat and slash at the thing. It didn’t seem to notice, its bulbous, bloodshot, eyes staying fixed on the groom’s body as it raised it overhead.” Bonzo then proceeds to continue pulverizing the body by smashing it against the ground over and over.

“For a split second, all was still but the music just pounded on, barely recognizable now over the distortion from the smoking speakers as those voices, no longer childlike, still chanted the words “He’s here to stay… He wants to play…”” “Then Mr. Bonzo turned towards us with its head bowed almost reverentially and everybody went silent. Slowly, awfully slowly, it raised its head, titling it coquettishly to one side. Then the seams across its face split revealing its gaping maw filled with even larger, sharper teeth.” Jordan admits that they don’t remember much about what happened after that but “I dream about it most nights. In the dream it digs through all those men to get to me, grabbing fistfuls of them and throwing them to smash against the wall. The strobe fires as its hands plunge into the pile of us and each flash shows a little less flesh between me and it, between me and all those teeth… finally everyone else is gone. I raise my arm to protect myself and it gently but inexorably lifts it into its mouth, smiles and bites… None of us was left whole but I was the luckiest. All I lost was a hand, it wasn’t even my dominant one.” The biting was set up previously in episode 10 when the transcripts mention “Gwen holds out the envelope and Mr Bonzo snatches it into his mouth, audibly chewing it. His teeth are not soft.”

Jordan says that they “told the investigators everything I know, doctors too. I don't know why nobody outside the room heard or saw anything, why the cameras weren't working, why it let me live. But I do know why there weren't any bodies. All I actually want is my hand back so I can tend bar but that isn’t going to happen is it? So I’ll have to settle for the next best thing and sue you for everything I can get, because I don’t know what happened that night but it was in your venue and no one came to help. Not Derek, not another doorman, no one. So yeah, you’d better have one hell of a settlement waiting for me, or I'll see you in court.”

While you could make an argument for themes of Entities like The Desolation, Flesh, Hunt, etc. I’m still going to primarily argue for Bonzo being tied to The Stranger or a similar Entity due to what we see in his previous appearances. For the sake of clarity, if there is any debate about what The Stranger embodies in MAG 200 it is stated “And as they learned to know their friends and kin, so too did they learn to fear the unknown figure, the coming of the stranger” and in MAG 092 (Nothing Beside Remains) Jonah tells Jon “We thrive on ceaseless watching, on knowing too much. What we face is the hidden, the uncanny, and the unknown.” while in MAG 111 (Family Business) Jon says “The Stranger is the unknown. The uncanny.” and Gerard doesn’t correct him.

However, a lot of Mr. Bonzo’s behaviours in previous episodes resembles The Stranger (and The Stranger has violently attacked or killed people in the past). Mr. Bonzo is also described as being a clown. Something we know The Stranger has a precedent for manifesting as, probably due to both the idea of the uncanny valley being achieved with a costume or makeup and the idea of a traveling circus full of strangers you don’t know from out of town in addition to a clown costume acting as a disguise that can obscure whoever is wearing it. Not to mention that Mr. Bonzo is described as a suit, which could very easily connect to an Entity like The Stranger. Firstly, The Stranger tends to have a big emphasis on wearing things like skins and suits. Additionally, Gwen mentions in episode 11 “That… abomination wasn’t a costume. That was skin. It was sagging, it was sweaty!” and we know The Stranger has a tendency for wearing skin, skinning things (such as with taxidermy), etc. as a form of disguise, in order to hide itself, or to metaphorically rob something of their identity.

This also applies to costumes in general since usually wearing costumes or disguises can actually obscure who is wearing them and thus their true identity is unknown. There’s also the fact that costumes themselves can easily fall into the uncanny valley. Ever since Five Nights at Freddy’s became popular there’s been an uptick in horror media focusing on how creepy and uncanny things like animatronic suits can be. Not that Mr. Bonzo is an animatronic but it is a suit. Also, Bonzo apparently has hard teeth and having solid teeth on a suit could look uncanny.

The surprise gift and sudden appearance of Bonzo that others assume is some sort of surprise or prank could also tie into The Stranger and the idea of something mysteriously appearing or not being expected. Bonzo was originally made to prank celebrities. As Nigel explains in episode 10 that his produce ““inviting a famous person on, someone really serious, and we tell them we’re going to have them do a segment with a popular children’s entertainer. Now, obviously these folks won’t have any idea about what kids are actually watching, so we could come up with the most horrendous thing, claim kids loved it and see how long it took for the guest to realize that they were the joke. That they’d been “berried”” and “The problem with a surprise prank is that doing it on Saturday night primetime means pretty soon everyone knows about it, and the guests knew it was coming. A couple even requested it. So the prank part of it sort of died, and he just became an SOS mascot. One of my many tormentors in the dungeon. By the end we’d even retired Mr. Six, and it was all Bonzo.” Once again, a focus on surprise and I think it’s interesting that Bonzo loses his punch the more people know about and understand him. Bonzo is a character that thrived specifically on the guests not knowing who he was and did. So a potential relationship with the unknown again.”

In episode 10 Nigel says to Gwen ““Try not to stare. He doesn’t like it when people stare.” Which could relate to The Stranger. While all the Entities are connected, overlap, and need each other for a ritual bringing them into the world to work, with even seemingly opposing Entities bleeding into each other or having overlapping fears, The Stranger can often have an antagonistic relationship with The Eye and forms of being known. The Stranger tends to thrive off the fear of being unknown so staring at something aligned with The Stranger might make it react negatively. In MAG 092 (Nothing Beside Remains) Jonah tells Jon “We thrive on ceaseless watching, on knowing too much. What we face is the hidden, the uncanny, and the unknown.” In MAG 165 (Revolutions) Not-Sasha says this in regards to The Eye’s Post-Change world “Do you know how it feels? To be – anonymous? And yet known! To have all the sweetest dread I can create tainted by the relentless gaze of that damned Eye. I’ve suffered enough.” So if my theory that Bonzo is tied to something like The Stranger is correct, that could explain a potentially negative reaction to being looked at for too long since aspects of The Stranger often don’t like it when people try to figure out what they are. This could ring extra true if it does turn out that the OIAR is somehow connected to The Eye.

Bonzo’s eating and biting could potentially be linked to The Stranger’s tendency for odd uncanny behavior, like that time Breekon / Hope ate a butterfly. The fact that this monster looks like Bonzo could also be related to the idea of the uncanny, since he would resemble Bonzo but behave and look a bit off. Also, it seems hard to tell if Bonzo is a costume or a monster resembling a costume which makes it harder to know what he is for sure, and The Stranger loves playing up mystery (think how we never know which character is Breekon and which character is Hope from Breekon and Hope in TMA, and Jon describes one of them as “one half of Breekon and Hope”). Also, Bonzo can only say his name which means you never really know what he’s saying or talking about.

Bonzo killing everyone in the room but leaving someone alive is not a completely unheard of idea. The Entities in general often seem to leave witnesses if in doing so more fear is generated and we see creatures like the Not-Them kill and replace people while ensuring that at least one person remembers what the original persona actually looked like even if no one else does. The reason for this is because if the Not-Them’s disguise was perfect and changed every bit of memory and evidence then there wouldn’t be anyone to be afraid of the idea that someone they know has been replaced by a stranger.

Jordan mentions “I don't know why nobody outside the room heard or saw anything, why the cameras weren't working, why it let me live. But I do know why there weren't any bodies.” which emphasizes his confusion about what’s happening. While confusion is often tied to The Spiral, in this case it stems from a bunch of unknown factors and variables, like why there were no other witnesses and why the cameras weren’t working.” As far as there being no witnesses and the cameras failing to work, the Entities are known for usually being on the downlow and not common knowledge but Entities like The Stranger tend to thrive off the fear of mystery and have a precedent for things like mysterious disappearances or hiding people / things. The Calliope I mentioned earlier mysteriously disappeared from the Institute’s archives at some point in TMA and in MAG 092 (Nothing Beside Remains) Jonah tells Jon “We thrive on ceaseless watching, on knowing too much. What we face is the hidden, the uncanny, and the unknown.” Jonah specifically mentions that The Stranger has a connection to “the hidden” among other things. In MAG 102 (Nesting Instinct) Jonah even says that The Stranger essentially hid Jon from him when saying “I was doing everything in my power to locate you. Everyone was working on finding the ritual site.” and “[Irritated] I am sorry, John, that my powers have not yet reached the level of omniscience.” Jordan does say that they know why there weren’t any bodies which implies that Mr. Bonzo probably ate them.

Jordan having trouble remembering exactly what happened actually does have a precedent with The Stranger since the Entity does have connections to memory loss or a loss of identity. In MAG 165 (Revolutions) we see Not-Sasha watch over a Domain that takes the form of a merry-go-round with people fighting over faces. People with no faces must fight over the faces of others to rip them off and regain some sense of identity. When they lose their face it is said “And soon enough they will forget they ever even had one, rest assured; it’s best to step the dance and keep your face secured as much as you are able. Just. Keep. Running.” Jon and co also face memory loss when they interrupt The Stranger’ ritual in TMA and forget who they are and what they are doing for a period of time.

Some other Entities this statement parallels are that of The Slaughter (with sudden brutal and gory violence), The Flesh (via bodily disfigurement by way of losing a hand, Bonzo being described as releasing “some vile mixture of putrid water, rotten foam and rancid meat.” when cut at some point, and Bonzo biting into people), The End (a lot of people brutally die), The Corruption (from the aforementioned vile mixture pouring out of Bonzo), and even The Eye (with the strange and horrifying dreams Jordan is forced to relive over and over resembling how people who give Jon live statements are forced to relive said moments in the form of nightmares over and over). Like always, I have to at least touch on the fact that The Eye doesn’t seem to just be the fear of being watched but also being a witness to something you don’t want to see. Jon can force people to recount and relive terrible moments, Jonah can force information into the heads of people like Melanie and Martin, and in MAG 200 The Eye is stated to have been born from the fear of one’s own eyes showing them too much.

All this being said, I still think the OIAR is somehow connected to The Eye. There’s the cases being like statements but also the fact that they supply sensitive information (such as names and locations) to things like Mr. Bonzo. People like Jonah could almost always know one’s location thanks to their Eye powers and The Eye is connected to the fear of someone / something knowing too much about you (such as knowing where and who you are). I wonder why Bonzo was sent to kill this particular groom when he was just partying? Did the groom know something or overstep some line or was the groom just some sort of offering to appease Mr. Bonzo? How was this person’s name and address obtained? Was it just mundane tracking or something closer to Jonah’s clairvoyance? Nigel acted like he was doing the OIAR a favor so right now it seems like this was a target decided by the OIAR and not necessarily Nigel. Unless you want to argue that the “favor” is aiding in keeping Bonzo pacified, under wraps, or something potentially more mutually beneficial. I wonder if Jordan’s dreams are somehow connected to being directly involved in a case or facing an External of the OIAR? It could also simply be that Jordan is traumatized.

We cut to Gwen and the transcripts say she “is sat at her desk, stunned by what she has just heard.” and she only says “Jesus Christ…” I wonder if this is because the case is unusually brutal or gorey when compared to most others or if she realized there’s a connection between the letter she delivered and what happens in this case. Considering what Lena said it's very possible that some of the cases the OIAR gets are connected to the activity of their own Externals (such as Mr. Bonzo).

ALICE CONT.

“Gwen? Hello?”

GWEN

“(dazed) What?”

Getting sucked into a statement like this and statements having a negative impact on one’s mental state are both things we have seen in TMA. Jon had a hard time stopping once he started a statement and at one point Jon expresses worry that Martin was listening to a bunch of statements for Peter Lukas and his plan in regards to The Extinction. Although, it could be that Gwen is merely shocked.

Gwen explains that she met one of the Externals but Alice seems to think Gwen is just referring to some annoying assholes as opposed to any supernatural monsters that takes the form of beloved childhood characters.

Gwen seems to finally wonder the question that I’ve been wondering for a while now:

GWEN

“What do you think we’re actually doing, here at the O.I.A.R.?”

ALICE

“Apart from mortgaging our mental health for a wage packet?”

GWEN

“We’ve both been here long enough to know this place. We’re not doing good. We’re not just sifting random data. There’s something wrong here.”

ALICE

“What are you getting at?”

GWEN

“You never wonder what the point is? Who benefits from all this awfulness?”

ALICE

“I don’t wonder. I know.”

GWEN

(sitting up) “What? Really?”

ALICE

“(portentous) Oh yeah. I’ve known for a while. What we’re doing here, it’s all part of a grand plan to satisfy one of the most unspeakable evils known to mankind... “

Gwen’s on the edge of her seat.

ALICE

“(almost a whisper) …the UK government.”

In TMA the point of the Institute sifting through statements and stuff was twofold. Firstly, to feed The Eye but also to set up the lynchpin for The Eye’s ritual with the position of the Archivist. I wonder if something similar is going on here but I can’t say since while you could argue that being an Externals Liaison is like the Archivist and shares the role as being a “living chronicle of fear” (especially since Lena remarked that Gwen should show fear via screaming because Externals tend to like that) Gwen had to blackmail her way into that position. I have no idea who was the Externals Liaison before her or if there are other Liaisons, if there even was one(s) before / with Gwen at all. Also, unlike the Institute, the OIAR is explicitly connected to the government and is meant to respond to things (not just watch). So it’s very likely that the OIAR has a role that is different from just “The Mass Ritual / Institute 2.0.” They could still be gathering fear related to the statements and being observed like the Institute in TMA though. However, even the Institute still wanted the Archival staff to do a good job following up statements and stuff. Jon tries to reorganize the Archives after Gertrude purposefully left them disorganized and Tim corrects Jon about some errors he made when reading some statements. The OIAR doesn’t really seem to care how well or poorly their workers categorize the cases and I don’t know if anyone checks.

Alice’s joke about the greatest evil known to mankind being the UK government feels like foreshadowing considering that the OIAR, and by extension all the Externals like Bonzo, are connected to the government.

Alice’s comment “Apart from mortgaging our mental health for a wage packet?” references how stressful this job seems to be.

Conclusion

Yeah, idk. This was a very simple episode overall and it mostly just seemed like it was following up Lena’s point about paying attention to the caseload.

Okay, hold on, before I end this I figured I should actually try to look at the voices in the computer system a bit more closely, since quite frankly, like with the alchemy symbols, I’ve admittedly been neglecting them and not focusing on them as much as I should have. This is because I actually couldn’t tell if there was any kind of correlation between the voices and the kinds of cases they read but a video by Maddie’s Maxis called “This Channel's First Video - The Magnus Protocol Analysis and Theories” (which you can view here This Channel's First Video - The Magnus Protocol Analysis and Theories) hypothesizes that there is actually a correlation. As we all know two of the computer voices sound like Martin and Jon and Maddie argues that the kinds of statements the voices read correspond to something that had to do with the character. For example, in theory NORRIS (Martin’s voice) tends to have statements relating to self-loathing and loneliness. I don’t know what they are feeding Maddie but Maddie is potentially cooking here. So I decided to glance over at some of the statements and see if there are any patterns.

I’m going to start with the theme that seems the most concrete in my opinion. The cases that NORRIS (Martin’s voice) reads seem to often be tied to themes of isolation, losing loved ones, or feeling abandoned. I should make it clear that while I know Martin in TMA is connected to The Lonely I am not saying all the cases NORRIS reads are connected to The Lonely. The mere presence of feeling alone or isolated doesn’t automatically make a statement Lonely related in the same way someone dying, getting attacked, or something taking place at night or in darkness automatically means End, Slaughter, or Dark respectively. Also, it’s important to remember that every Entity, even seemingly opposing ones, have overlap, shared fears, commonalities, etc..

But let’s look at the cases to see if this pattern is really there. The case NORRIS covers in episode 1 involves the Anglerfish, or something resembling it, killing and replacing their romantic partner. Harriet even says “And that voice I have loved for twenty years answered: “Some of him.”” So loss of a loved one.

In episode 3 NORRIS covers a case in which Dr. Samuel seems to feel immense guilt and sorrow about the death of Maddie. Once again, the loss of a close loved one.

In episode 8 NORRIS goes over a report Terrance submits about the effects of brutal liminalism. While no one dies or is replaced in the actual events of the case, Terrance does mention “originally took my role as a night janitor at Forton following a protracted divorce which cost me the majority of my friendships.” So while their partner isn’t dead they did lose a loved one, and if you read my thoughts on that episode you know that I actually think the case has a lot of similarities with The Lonely. The fog, the vaguely familiar but impossible to understand gibberish, people with repeating features, being isolated in a dark void, etc.. Even if you disagree that it’s The Lonely there is still a connection to themes of losing someone close and being alone.

If there was an episode to disprove this theory it would probably be episode 12 since it’s just Bonzo murdering a room full of people. Jordan does say “I don't know why nobody outside the room heard or saw anything” and earlier in the case they mention that they believed their coworker by the name of Joey the doorman might have ditched him again but this definitely feels a bit more like a stretch. Jordan does seem to blame the establishment for what happened and this is because from the perspective of Jordan no one came to help despite how obvious and loud the commotion was. Which could maybe tie into the idea of being abandoned or left alone but this is definitely pushin it and it’s clear that our understanding of what kinds of cases each voice reads might expand as the series goes on.

Maddie argues that CHESTER (Jonathon’s voice) seems to usually cover cases related directly to the Magnus Institute. Which is generally true, CHESTER covers the cases of RedCanary spelunking in the Institute’s ruins in episode 1, and the gambling dice being submitted to the Institute in episode 9 for example. But CHESTER also covers the case about Tom wanting to watch Voyeur in episode 5, the case regarding Hilltop Center in episode 7, Gordon’s encounter with the tattoos and Ink5 during construction in episode 11. It’s very possible that these are just related to the Institute in ways we don’t understand yet, for example some of the characters that appear could be members of the Institute or something, but in my opinion this definitely throws a wrench into some things.

CHESTER seems to have a stronger case for a theme of curiosity and a desire to know in general as opposed to just the Magnus Institute. RedCanary investigates the archives out of curiosity, Tom really wants to see the Voyeur movie for their blog, the narrator explains that they experimented with the gambling dice to figure out how they worked, and Gordon keeps talking about how they “just need to see it. I need to know what’s in the water.” As I’ve mentioned previously, The Eye also has a major emphasis on a desire to know and understand something even if it comes at the cost of yourself and / or other people. Hilltop Center still seems like a bit of an outlier here but while Dianne isn’t spelunking through ruins or anything she does mention that she was looking for people to help her work at the center. Which, while a bit of a stretch, could fit with a theme of curiosity or desire to know in the case of Chester. Or at least the idea of something being searched for as a theme at least.

If you wanted to argue that CHESTER actually related to things being looked for you could say that the case about the gambling dice revolves around the narrator giving the Institute artifacts, and they even say “So yeah, I tell you all about them, how I got them, all that crap and you just… You take them away, right? You accept them? Good. I think. I’m pretty sure that’s how it works. It’s how it worked for me, at least. Put them in whatever vault you like, bury them, drop them in the ocean, for all I care. All that matters is that they’re yours now.” So you could say that the Institute was looking for artifacts. You could also argue that the narrator was looking for people to roll the dice, looking for good luck, or started making their way towards Gary when they found him.

AUGUSTUS has a voice I am not familiar with (and we will get to the popular theory in a moment). I can only recall AUGUSTUS voicing one case, I might be forgetting one or something, so I don’t have a lot to go on. AUGUSTUS could be covering really old statements, as Sam notes the one in episode 4 is from the 18th century, or statements revolving around others climbing their way to their top and doing whatever it takes to do so. It’s kind of unclear until I can see some more AUGUSTUS statements.

There’s also some obvious character associations with this theory. Martin, someone connected to The Lonely, has statements reflecting some kind of isolation or abandonment, Jon, the Archivist with a strong tie to The Eye and someone who was strung along while trying to solve Jonah’s plan and learn the truth about the Entities, has statements involving extreme curiosity or people looking for things, and Jonah, someone who is really old and ruthless (so ruthless that they made the world a fear hellscape in an attempt to avoid death), has had a statement taking place in the 18th century involving someone giving a blood sacrifice to play violin super well.

There’s a popular theory going around that the three voices in the computers are actually Jonathon, Martin, and Jonah, and this definitely seems like one of the more credible theories floating around the community to a degree. AUGUSTUS’ unfamiliar voice could be the voice of Jonah’s original body. Jon, Martin, and Jonah were all in the panopticon when the Change ended which could be the event that got them tied to the computers. It could also have to do with being the pupil of the Eye somehow. Jonah and Jon were both the Eye’s pupil at some point and Jon got his position by killing Jonah to take his spot. It’s possible something weird happened like Martin was about to become the Eye’s pupil after removing Jon from the position, giving them this common link, but I can’t say for sure.

Maddie also points out another big thing to remember in the video. I have mentioned that Annabelle seems generally right about what happens to the Entities’ various Monsters and Avatars after the Entities get pulled into the next universe. Monsters, like potentially the Anglerfish, presumably get sucked into the new universe since they are part of the Entities. Other people may or may not get sucked into the universe depending on how attached they were to the Entity. It’s also possible that they will always just be left behind. However, Annabelle also mentions that it’s possible the Entities will take the aspects of a person that are connected to or are a part of the Entity. So, it’s possible that the parts of Jon, Martin, and Jonah in the computer are not them in their entirety but merely specific aspects of their personality or being. It could literally just be their voices taken by one or more Entities for all we know.

We also know that some Entities, like The End, seem capable of making copies or “memories” of people after / when they die. In MAG 154 (Bloody Mary) Eric states “I know that I’m not really Eric; I’m just a memory someone wrote down. It hurts, most of the time. I don’t like it.” So one could argue that the voices in the computers are not the fully sentient original versions of Jon, Martin, and Jonah but “memories” or copies created by one or more Entities. This could also explain why the third voice might be Jonah even though Jonah potentially died before the Entities jumped universes. This voice could simply be The Eye’s metaphorical recollection of Jonah or Jonah wasn’t completely dead when the Entities switched universes. This also means that the voices in the computers could be more malicious than we first assume if there’s a chance they are in actuality not Jon, Martin, and Jonah or are in truth aspects of The Eye or bits of their personalities trying to achieve a specific goal.

As I’ve mentioned previously, the cases the voices read out don’t seem to be completely random. The second Sam is about to give up his search for the Magnus Institute CHESTER spits out a case that is perfect for reigniting his curiosity with the addition of a new clue, and when Celia takes the job the first case she gets is about Hilltop Center (which could relate to Celia’s questions about multiversal and time travel). I still can’t say if the CHESTER or any other of the computers are trying to help Sam or use him for more nefarious purposes.

I’m not super confident about this being the patterns the computers follow at the moment because frankly there isn’t a lot of cases to go off of, and I need to see more AUGUSTUS. It’s also possible that the cases are more variable or context dependant. What the voices read could depend on the person at the computer, for example: it’s possible CHESTER reads a bunch of cases connected to the Institute because that’s what Sam was most interested in. There are also some cases we don’t have enough context behind yet, for example the mysterious figure in the Hilltop Road case could be connected to something like the Institute in some way, or that some of the voices focus on certain Externals Liaisons, people, etc..

If you want another TMAGP theory video to watch here’s one by Pinkelotje: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MX51EHLy7BQ&ab_channel=pinkelotje.

#tmagp #tma #the magnus protocol #the magnus archives #theory

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taestefully-in-luv · 4 years ago

Text

Always You | JJK (One)

Summary: you and Jungkook have been best friends since freshmen year of college, there’s a lot of unsaid feelings and tension but neither make a move. what happens when his friend Taehyung (also your crush) needs a fake girlfriend?

Pairing: Jungkook x Female reader, slight Taehyung x Reader

Genre: friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, roommate au, college au, SMUT (starting ch2), fluff, angst (in later chapters) slight crack

Word Count: 10.2k (yikes, I know) (I will try to shorten future chapters, ya girl is sorry)

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol consumption, puking, reader is a drunk cry baby, reader is kinda embarrassing, jk is kinda jelaous, mentions of sleeping around, reader and jk are pretty affectionate, jk’s thighs are mentioned—that’s like, a warning in itself right?

Notes: hiiiii, the first part is here! Once again, really nervous about this so please go easy on me but mostly, just enjoy! :) also sorry for any typos!!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun is a magical thing. It lights up and warms the Earth, it enhances your mood, it helps plants grow, it literally provides for life. Without the sun, life on Earth would cease to exist. What the sun also does? The sun also shines down on us and lights up the most beautiful things. The sun today, however, is especially highlighting the most beautiful thing. The way the glittering rays gleam through the windows you can see how todays sun focuses on him.

That’s right, you guessed it. Kim Taehyung. His skin is absolutely glowing in the rays, his eyes sparkle in the light that shines down. Yes, Kim Taehyung is an other-worldly being. The way he just stands there and shimmers you can’t help but stare but also like, shy away because his beauty is so god damn blinding. Wait…was this dramatic? This might be dramatic. You’re too far gone to care though. His boxy grin, the way his hair falls into his eyes, the mole on his—

“I just want you to know, you are fucking drooling.” You hear the scoff of the man across from you, Jeon Jungkook, also known as your best friend.

You lazily shake your head as the two of you sit nice and snug in the booths of your favorite coffee shop. It’s one of the colder spring days, the breeze biting at your skin when you were outside but now, you have Jungkook’s scarf wrapped loosely around your neck and hot coffee in your hands.

“I mean, I get it. He’s gorgeous but do you really have to go this far?”

You bring the white mug full of black coffee to your lips. It’s hot and burns the tip of your tongue, but not anything you’re not use to.

“Yes.” You state plainly. You know exactly to what he is referring to. You don’t usually come here at this time, in fact you are usually a creature of habit and come at the same time on the same days… Tuesday and Thursdays in the evening but its Friday and like 1pm. But you knew Kim Taehyung was going to be here when he snapped a picture of the famous white mug with the shops logo on it and posted on his story. You bring your hand up to your forehead, saluting to the sky, “Thank you Snapchat.” So yes, naturally when you saw he was at this coffee shop you hurried to make sure you were too. Maybe it is fucking desperate. Okay it is. But could you blame a girl? He was one of the hottest guys you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.

“This is ridiculous,” Jungkook huffs into his own mug, “You could just talk to him…”

Now it was your turn to scoff.

“As fucking if!”

Jungkook smirks into his mug, taking a sip of the burning hot coffee. “That incapable, hmm?”

“It’s not that I’m incapable JK,” You blow on the drink nonchalantly, “I am simply just not worthy.”

“You are so stupid, I swear.” He huffs into his mug again.

“What do you mean?”

Jungkook breathes out slowly, biting his lip as if contemplating what to say.

It’s like, what can he say? He wishes he could tell you a million things that would ease your mind, that could possibly give you the confidence you need or maybe just slap the reality on you that Taehyung doesn’t deserve you. But then he will get asked ‘why’ and he can’t have that.

“What?” you whine into your cup before setting it down.

“You’re really cool and also pretty?” he says quirking a brow in question. Because apparently that’s all he can come up with.

“That’s a question? Also am I dying? You’re complimenting me?” you tease, giving him an exaggerated look of satisfaction.

“I just mean…” Jungkook runs a hand through his messy dark locks, “You have nothing to worry about, ya know?”

Nothing to worry about he says! What does he know? He can literally get any girl—or guy for that matter—that he wants. You dip your head, frowning at the idea.

Jungkook has been your best friend since your freshmen year and there’s nothing you treasure more than his friendship. You bite your lips and tilt your head trying to recall his first presence in your life…oh! That stupid frat party freshmen year…you met at a frat party during your first semester and totally hit it off. Did he try to get into your pants? Okay, yeah maybe. He offered a room just up the stairs that night, but you refused…seemingly too shy. But Jungkook was nothing but understanding. He pat your back and said he knew a better place, and that was the 24 diner down the street. And the rest is history

“Obviously I don’t know and oh my god don’t look but—” You try saying before Jungkook is completely turning his head around to look. Classic Jungkook.

“Oh hey Tae.” Jungkook says in The Kim Taehyungs direction. Taehyung walks up to your table, you thought the sun only highlighted his beauty but up close he is the sun. You knew it was a magical thing.

“Hey guys! “ Taehyung stands there as bright as a fucking light, waving at you and your best friend. Oh yeah, did we forget to mention Jungkook is also friends with said Kim Taehyung? Okay, so maybe talking to Taehyung shouldn’t be that hard, since you share the same fucking friends. And you guys are technically friends too.

“Sup dude.” Jungkook shrugs nonchalantly, picking up his coffee mug once again. His long fingers wrapping around the porcelain, warming him up. You watch as Jungkook takes a sip of his beverage with his doe eyes on you, he nods his head towards Taehyung and winks at you as he gulps down the drink. Of course, he’s teasing you.

“Hey y/n!” Taehyungs smile shines so brightly you want to actually kill yourself. What is up with this dude and being so blinding?

“Hey Taehyung…” you gulp your coffee awkwardly, giving him a small wave of the hand.

“y/n I told you to call me Tae!”

“Right…” you chuckle into the coffee creating bubbles of the liquid like the fucking pathetic lil thang you are.

Yeah, talking to The Kim Taehyung is not your specialty. Never was.

2 years ago

Your head is buried in books on the table of your campuses library with Jungkook fast asleep next to you. Statistics shouldn’t be this hard but it fucking is and you are groaning into your book, on the verge of pulling your hair out when a deep voice that rumbles your insides interrupts you—actually fuck it, you don’t feel like getting into a flashback. Just know that you met Taehyung (officially through Jungkook) and he ended up calling you pretty and you’ve thought about it every day since. Because you are pathetic. What’s new?

And that was it, that’s all it took for you to gain a massive crush on the boy.

“What’s up dude?” Jungkook asks again. He is now scrolling through his phone, probably swiping through Tinder, if you have to guess. And you’re right because he’s turning his phone towards you showing you some random girl, his wide eyes asking for your opinion. You roll your eyes and nod your head ‘yes’. As you can guess, this happens quite often.

“Ummm…” Taehyung runs a frustrated hand through his hair, you slowly tilt your head to soak him in when you notice he looks almost…panicked? “I need help with something actually,” but he isn’t looking at Jungkook as he says this, no. He’s looking at you.

“You see that girl at the counter over there? The one with long hair, not the other one.” He nods his head in the general direction while still remaining discreet.

You tilt your head to steal a glance at the counter and yes you do see the girl he is referring to. She’s got long brown hair that reaches her waist and man, she is gorgeous. Big, bright eyes. Full, pouting lips. Long legs and yeah, the works. Taehyung sure knows how to pick them. Did he need help to get her number of something? Like a wing woman? You mean, does he really need the help?

“Yes, I see her.” Is all you say to him and you expect him to ask you to go over there but instead he says,

“Great. I need you to be my girlfriend.”

You blink lazily at him as you process his words while Jungkook chokes on his drink.

“You want her to be your what?” Jungkook is the first to speak.

“My girlfriend.” He says again before his eyes go wide, “Like, like my fake girlfriend.” Taehyung turns a wonderful shade of red before his hand is reaching to scratch the back of his neck, chuckling to himself. “This girl—Anna…she is a bit obsessed? Ya know? Won’t leave me alone type thing and …and I have tried saying I have a girlfriend but she followed me to this coffee shop when she heard I was here. Like, who does that?”

Now it’s your turn to turn red, because you. You would fucking do that.

“That’s horrible Taehy—” you begin to say before Taehyungs large eyes pierce into your own, “Please y/n.”

“Anna???” Jungkook cuts in setting his phone on the table. “Like Anna Anna?” Jungkook squints his eyes at his friend before scoffing. “...She’s not doing it.” his eyes go between Taehyung and this girl Anna. “Don’t involve her in whatever game you—"

“I’ll do it.” You say, even surprising yourself. “I mean, it’s just pretend and for this moment so why not?” you begin to explain yourself. Plus for a few minutes you can pretend you’re really his girlfriend and your delusional mind will thrive off that.

Tae is quick to straighten his back and smile widely before he is ushering you to scoot over in the booth to let him in. “Scoot scoot” he whispers, grinning from ear to ear.

“Tae, you can’t be serious—” Jungkook is quick to say something, anything. His hands scrambling to grab his phone and hands it to Taehyung from across the table. “Here. Call up some other girl to do this. Don’t involve y/n.” Taehyung gives Jungkook a look of panic before Jungkook speaks up again, “Plus, y/n would be the worst fake girlfriend,” And that’s it. That’s all it takes. Jungkook’s constant negativity pisses you off so much that it drives what you say next.

“No need Taehyung.” You snatch Jungkook’s phone and shove it back in his hands. “Why don’t you call up one of your girls yourself and leave us alone?”

Jungkook looks at you shocked, his brows furrowing so deeply you are almost concerned for his face and the wrinkles that might set in.

“y/n…?” his stupid doe eyes look at you with so much confusion.

“I just mean, I can do this Jungkook. Don’t have to be so concerned.”

At that, Taehyung lights up.

“Great!” and his long arm wraps around your waist and when he was sure Anna is looking he leans in to plant a soft kiss to your cheek. “Thanks for doing this…” he whispers in your ear before placing another kiss.

Your eyes meet Jungkook’s shocked ones. He looks like he just saw a ghost, all the color drained from his face as he watches you and Taehyung.

“Uh….” You don’t have any words for Taehyung—or Tae as he likes to be called.

You don’t even have the balls to glance his way, you don’t even have the balls to breathe in his direction.

“Look at me?” Taehyung’s finger is on your chin, guiding it towards his face.

“No…” Jungkook spurts out, “I mean, y/n don’t we have to go?” Jungkook looks at you with a look you’ve never really seen before. Maybe it’s desperation but you don’t really care.

“We don’t actually” you respond nonchalantly.

And with that you turn to face Taehyung more properly. His face is so close to yours it’s almost suffocating.

“What is it…Tae?” you try out his nickname for the first time. His cheeks flush and he scoots back just an inch.

“Thank you for doing this but…” his eyes slide to the side, eyeing Jungkook. “I was thinking we could do this for a couple of weeks, at the least. Ya know, to make it believable.”

Surprising you and Taehyung, Jungkook rises from his seat at the booth,

“y/n let’s go.” He simply states, not even looking at you. Taehyung looks panicked as you look between the boys.

“Tae…” you started to say before Jungkook reaches over the table to grab your wrist, “Come oooooooonnnnn” But you are quick to yank it back.

“Stop Jungkook, you’re being childish.”

Taehyung tightens his hold on you, “Yeah Kookie, sit back down…please.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes at Taehyung, giving him a look that screams ‘are you serious?!’

“Childish? Okay.” He gives you a look of disappointment before grabbing his phone and his bag and walking away from the table. You watch in disbelief as Jungkook’s figure disappears from your view. What was up with him?

“Sorry, I don’t know what’s going on with him…”

“Right…” Tae responds quietly, his grip on your waist loosening up. “He’s just really protective over you, huh?” Taehyung bites his lip in contemplation, “y/n. I’m serious, let’s do this. I’ll pay for your coffee for the next month if you do this with me. Please, I am quite literally begging you.” He breathes out through his nose in an attempt to laugh. “She won’t leave me alone otherwise.”

You bite your lip in deep thought, your brows pulled together. Taehyung couldn’t help but find you cute.

“For a month? What happened to a few weeks?” you ask, a playful smirk gracing your features.

Taehyung couldn’t help the grin that made its way on his face.

“1 month.” He breathes out. “Unless you fall in love with me during that time and beg for more time….” He pokes his tongue out, his teasing tone going straight to your lady bits. If only he knew.

“Fine, but we should set some ground rules…don’t you think?”

“Okay. Like what?”

“Oh…I don’t—”

Taehyung raises a brow, “Don’t say something stupid like ‘no kissing’…because we want to make it as realistic as possible, don’t we?” he leans in just a bit more. Without Jungkook around Taehyung seems a bit more confident.

“Oh, you want to kiss me then?”

“It’s just for show. We don’t gotta think too hard about it.” His face inches closer and closer.

“Love…” you say, in a complete daze. Too lost in Taehyungs big brown eyes.

“What about it?” he doesn’t blink, just continues to stare into your eyes.

“We…would if one of us catches feelings? Then we should stop it, right?” You choke out.

Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut as an impossibly cute giggle escapes his lips, “You’re so cute. How many romcoms have you watched to come up with that line?”

“I’m serious.” You push your head back, “This could become hurtful if one of us falls in love…” You say this knowing it’s you. Well, obviously. Just because Taehyung called you pretty 2 years ago doesn’t mean he likes you.

“Okay, sweetheart.” Taehyung gets close again, “I’ll tell you.” And then he leans in, just an inch from your face. His lips hovering over your own and you can see his eyes still on you, like he’s silently asking for permission. You can’t help the nod of your head and you, yourself don’t stop yourself from leaning in.

Taehyungs lips are just as soft as you had always imagined. His lips only peck yours, the kiss is short but sweet. Once he pulls back you see his eyes slide to the counter where that Anna girl stands, and a look of relief washes over his features.

“Thank God, she bought it. She looks pissed,” he laughs loudly, “She saw us and is totally storming out!”

Oh, right. This is all for show.

“Oh, good.”

“Thanks y/n!” Taehyung’s smile is so wide it takes up the entire booth. He goes in for a quick hug, pulling back he smiles again before reaching his hand to pat your head.

“You’re a good girl.” He says and slips out of the booth. Welp, you wish those words didn’t go straight to your vagina.

“Uh, thanks.” You sputter out, not entirely sure what just happened.

“See you later?” he asks then his face lights up, “I’ll bring you a coffee.”

“Well, that is the deal.” You shoot him some pathetic finger guns.

You stare down at your now cold coffee, and look across from you at the now empty booth where Jungkook once sat.

“I’ll text you with more details later!” he shakes his phone in his hand,

“Bye bye…girlfriend.” He finishes off with a wink and skips, yes fucking skips away.

You are left alone at your table, with an empty seat across from you and a cold coffee. And now a fake boyfriend with the guy you have a massive crush on. This couldn’t possibly go all wrong, could it?

~~~

“This is definitely going to go all wrong, you realize that, right? This is a bad idea y/n and you know it.”

Jungkook’s legs are swung over your own as he lays on the couch, his focus on his phone in his hands. He wears his gray puma sweat suit you love so much and smells exactly the same as always—clean laundry and his own musk. You can’t help but eye him over, his dark strands of hair falling into his eyes as he bobbles his head to rid himself of the stray pieces. You aren’t blind, Jungkook is like, crazy hot and sometimes your staring can become a problem.

“Like, ‘we can’t fall in love with each other’” he mocks, “What sort of bullshit? You already in love, aren’t you?” he peeks over his phone to get a look at you waiting for some sort of rejection of his words.

“It’s just a crush, Jungkook.”

“Sure.” His eyes go back to his screen. “You’re pretty dumb for doing this.”

“Did I mention we kissed?”

“Only 100 times now you sicko.” Jungkook rolls his eyes and you can’t help but giggle.

It’s no secret that Jungkook is against this—whatever this is. He always has been…ever since you mentioned it 2 years ago sophomore year.

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?!” you ask in disbelief.

You just confessed your little crush on Taehyung to Jungkook, the two of you sitting across from one another in the library when he rolls his eyes, obviously annoyed.

“Can you not yell? We’re literally in a library. And I don’t feel like getting kicked out this week…again.” He rolls his pen between his fingers as he speaks.

“Okay one: that’s your own fault for getting caught with your hand down some girls pants. And Two: what do you mean ‘no’?”

“Taehyung is off limits for you.” He says, totally unbothered.

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“It means, he’s my friend for one so gross, and also he’s kind of like…emotionally unavailable.”

You chew on your pen, wondering what that could mean. Like, he doesn’t date? He doesn’t ‘do’ relationships? He’s already in love with someone else?

“I’m not telling you.” Jungkook’s pen slides against his paper as he writes, “His life.”

Oh, you asked that out loud.

“Whatever Jungkook, it’s just a crush.”

It feels nice to have a crush on someone other than…

Ding

Your phone goes off and you hurry to check it. What? It could be Taehyung wanting to go over the details of the ‘plan’. But much to your disappointment it was just Jimin.

Jimin 9:42pm

Where are you guys? Party has BEEN started girl

Y/N 9:42pm

We’re about to leave babe, see you soonish

Jimin 9:43pm

You guys fuckin? *smirk face emoji*

Y/N 9:43pm

Did you just…write smirk face emoji instead of putting the emoji itself

Y/N 9:44pm

Also how many times do I have to tell you JK and I aren’t like that

Jimin 9:45pm

Whatevs, see you soon babe xoxo

You set your phone down in your lap, your fingers going to massage Jungkook’s calves as you sneak a glance at him, he closes his eyes in satisfaction as you continue massaging the muscle.

“We gotta get go—also, that’s now what you’re wearing right?”

“Not going tonight. But have fun.” Jungkook sets his phone on his chest, letting out a long breath while folding his arms behind his head. He looks comfortable like, you almost believe him that he’s really staying in.

“Yeah, okay.”

“I’m serious.”

“What do you mean?”

“Y/N why don’t we just stay in tonight?” He whines, he unfolds his arms and reaches for your hand. “Let’s go buy a 12 pack, get fucked up and just ya know, stay in.” Though this doesn’t sound like a bad idea, it also sounds like every Friday night with the two of you and you want to do something different tonight. But it would take some convincing. You interlock your fingers with his and he melts at your touch, his dopey smile growing.

“It’s a good idea, right?” he says, blinking up at you.

You smile back, tilting your head just the slightest before your smile drops altogether.

“No.”

“Ugh!” Jungkook throws his head back on the sofas armrest, “Why are you like this?”

“You still love me.” You chirp swinging his legs off yours and standing to your feet.

“Now get dressed and I promise that I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the weekend and you can bring whatever poor girl back to the apartment.”

Oh yes, your best friend is also your roommate. You’ve been living together for the last year—it just made the most sense. He was always over at yours or vise versa. So it made the most sense to save money and just room together. It worked out almost perfectly—almost. He paid his half of rent on time, he cleaned the dishes, he did laundry. Wait a minute, what the hell did you offer? That’s beside the point, the best of all he was always there when you needed him. The one downfall…the girls he brought over.

It got so bad that you couldn’t even sleep. You get it, your best friend is obviously…gifted. If the girls whines and moans and screams were any indication. So you had to set some rules for your sanity! For one, the other must always warn the other when bring home a person for the night. And two, its best if the other is already like, not home. Jungkook quickly agreed…something about how he doesn’t want to hear you either.

So, offering to be gone all weekend so he can have as much sex in his bed as he wants is probably going to be convincing enough.

You study Jungkook’s features, his brows pinched together almost comically, and his lips formed into the cutest pout.

“All weekend?” he asks, kicking imaginary rocks with his feet. “Like, no interruptions?”

“No interruptions you absolute whore.”

“Fine, deal.” He looks into your eyes and something flashes across them that you cant pinpoint. “I guess I’ll get dressed…but wait, where will you stay?”

“Probably with Jimin.” You shrug.

“Hm, okay.” Jungkook walks towards his room while lifting his sweatshirt over his head and throwing it behind him, the article of clothing landing on the floor. “And you’re doing laundry.”

“Brat.” You say rolling your eyes but you can’t help but smile.

You don’t take long to get ready yourself, you settle for a casual look tonight…okay, semi-casual, meaning you’re wearing jeans but you are wearing a nice, low cut blouse that shows a generous amount of cleavage. It’s your go to titty shirt. You aren’t really looking to get laid tonight or anything but you do want onlookers to wish you were.

You bounce your knee up and down while sitting on the sofa as you not so patiently wait on your bff, you call out for him but he only yells back that you need to like, chill out. After what feels like forever, the creak of his bedroom door opening can be heard and you quickly stand to your feet to face him.

“Woah.” Is all you manage to say as Jungkook walks out of his room, his cologne filling the air around you. “You look…” you can’t even finish your sentence without Jungkook’s stupid smirk already on his face. His pants are skin tight, the material practically melted on to his thick thighs that are deliciously exposed thanks to rips and holes. His plain white tee is accompanied by a fine leather jacket and his hair is split down the middle, the waves adorning his face. He looks damn good. And you both fucking know it.

“I look?” he teases, walking closer to you. His cologne suffocating your nostrils but you aren’t upset about it.

“You look…fine. You look better than before at least.” You choke out. It’s not that Jungkook is capable of making you nervous but sometimes he has this aura about him…no, you don’t even want to get into it. Those are thoughts you’ve trained yourself to push away.

“Whatever.” His eyes skim over your body shamelessly, “You look fine too.” He winks, walking past you.

“Ready to go?” he calls out over his shoulder. You can’t help but watch his tight ass walk away. Did you really say tight ass? Well it is!

“Yeah, lemme grab my purse and uh, uh we can go. You’re driving.”

~~~

“About fucking time, sluts.”

“Hello to you too, Jiminie.” You crack a smile as your friend goes in for a quick but tight hug.

When Jungkook finally introduced you to all his friends the one you hit it off with the most was good ol’ Jimin. He immediately became one of your closest friends.

“Yo Park.” Jungkook’s eyes are all around the place, not even sparing Jimin a glance. No doubt looking for his girl for the night already. What? It’s a safe assumption.

“Jeon.” Jimin rolls his eyes playfully. “You guys took forever, too busy fucking?”

You hit Jimin’s shoulder with your own, giving him a look that says you’ll scold him later.

“She wishes.” Jungkook finally puts his attention on the two of you, a wide smile growing on his face.

“Shut up.”

“What? It’s true! Oh my god Jimin, you should of seen her face when she saw me walk out in this fit.” Jungkook stands tall, hands grabbing onto the material of his leather jacket,

“She was like “oh my god Jungkook you look so go—” You go to hit his stomach with your fist but thanks to his rock hard abs you only end up hurting yourself. “Fuck! Ow! What’s under your shirt?” you yell over the music.

“Oh baby, you can find out. Should we go upstairs? I know a room.” He says with a wink.

The words ring a bell of familiarity in your head, each syllable echoing softly. A small smile forms on your lips and Jungkook gives you the softest smile in return. Did he just say the same line he used on you 3 years ago when you two met?

3 years ago

The music is booming so loudly you can’t even hear yourself think. This isn’t your first frat party and probably won’t be your last but you just can’t get use to it. You let your dormmate drag you to this stupid party only for her to ditch you in the first 10 minutes. Great.

You weave through the crowd trying to locate the kitchen to get your hands on the strongest drink you can find, lord knows you need it.

The kitchen is just as crowded as the rest of the house unfortunately. So many bodies. Bodies doing shots. Bodies doing shots off other bodies. Bodies playing games. Bodies grinding against other bodies. So many fucking bodies. It is honestly overwhelming. You walk towards the punch bowl, reaching for a red solo cup when another hand bumps into yours.

“Whoops sorry, go ahead.” The hand is attached to this boy—or man? Should you say man? He sure looks like one. He eyes you up and down before smiling down at you.

“Freshmen?” he asks.

You slump your shoulders, “Do I really look that outta place?” you pout.

“It’s not that…I just have a way of knowing.” He laughs. “I’m Namjoon, by the way.”

Namjoon, huh? He is cute that was for sure. “Y/N.” you say placing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Pretty!” he smiles, then his eyes look behind you. “Ay! Jungkook! What did I say?! No more Keg stands!!!!” Then Namjoon’s eyes are back on you, “Sorry Y/N gotta go, gotta take care of this brat.” Then walks past you to this mysterious Jungkook person.

Your eyes follow Namjoon as he rushes to whoever this Jungkook guy is. Namjoon pulls him to the side obviously scolding him for apparently doing too many keg stands. Jungkook looks like a small child who is about to get grounded, and you can’t help but giggle. Unfortunately, this caught Jungkook’s attention. He looks straight at you, his eyes narrowing. Wait a minute. You recognize him! He definitely looks like the same guy from your Lit class on Tuesday and Thursdays. Yup, you get one long good look at him and he is definitely the same heartthrob of a dude from your class. All the girls go crazy for this guy, you mean, you guess you get it. He is really hot. He’s got on a black t shirt and some ripped jeans, and tousled hair.

Jungkook looks at you again with furrowed brows then smirks. Fuck, you were staring. And got caught. You see Jungkook pat Namjoon on the shoulder a few times then walk past him, much to Namjoon’s annoyance.

And he’s walking towards….you. FUCK. In a total panic, you twirl around to face the wall, yes the fucking wall when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

“’Scuse me?” a voice says from behind you. You’re not going to play dumb, you know who the voice probably belongs to. You stay facing the wall, like a fucking weirdo.

“Wanna turn around?” his voice is light and teasing and you can’t help the long release of breath before turning to face him. Wow. Up close he’s even more handsome….

“Hi?” you sputter out, completely unaware of how lame and shy you sound.

“Hey, like what you see?” he nods his head in the direction he just came from, clearly amused.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Apparently playing dumb is how you decide to go about this. You stare at him with a blank expression, swaying from side to side. Lucky for you it’s in beat with the music so you look kind of cool. At least that’s what you’re telling yourself.

“I mean, you kept staring at me so.”

“No, its…it’s not like that”

“Then, what’s it like?”

“I just…I thought I recognized you so…” you wipe your sweaty hands on your black denim skirt. “That’s all.” You finish, still looking at him like you haven’t done anything weird tonight.

“Anderson’s Lit class right?” he asks with a pointed look. “I recognized you too.” His smirk does things to your lower half but you shouldn’t be admitting that right now.

“Oh?” is all you manage to say.

Jungkook studies you for a few moments, his gaze so dark and intimidating and you feel so flushed with his eyes on you. Then he groans with fingers rushing through his messy hair,

“Do you understand this week’s assignment?”

He…he wants to talk about school?

“Yes, I do. Because this assignment is wack as fuck.”

OH. You must of asked that out loud.

“Yes, you did.”

Oh, that too.

“Umm, yeah. What aren’t you understanding?” you finally say something relevant.

“It’s just more like, I think it’s a stupid assignment.” He chuckles, “Oh, you got something—” he reaches his hand forward to your hair, his fingers brushing through your long strands, pulling back with a piece of string. “Got it.” He says with a sly smile.

HOW CHEESY!!!! But like, it still made the heartbeat in your vagina go boom boom.

“Ya know…” he begins, his eyes never leaving yours as he talks. You actually don’t even know what he is talking about but his lips move so quickly you try to follow them. Your eyes on his lips the whole time, you don’t even realize it.

“…and that’s why I think it’s stupid.” He finally finishes with an obnoxious laugh. “Hey—hey are you even listening?” he says, his lips in a pout. You would know because they are all you’ve been staring at.

“Huh?” you blink lazily up at him, “Oh. Yeah. I totally agree.”

Jungkook stares at you seriously for a second before breaking out into a cackle, yes a cackle like he’s some hysterical witch. Which sounds really unattractive but honestly you’re digging it.

“It’s okay, you weren’t listening. I guess I’m not that interesting, huh?”

“No no! You are!” You’re quick to say, your hands waving frantically in front of you.

“Oh? So you do find me interesting?” he smirks, folding his arms across his chest.

You scoff at his words, appreciating his moves on you with a sly smile.

“Are you always this smooth?” you ask, a light teasing tone laced in your voice.

“Oh baby, you can find out. Should we go upstairs? I know a room.” He teases back.

Feeling so at home lost in your memories with Jungkook, you finally break free from the flashback. For some reason that’s a flashback you don’t mind reliving.

“Smooth.” You grin at Jungkook, you can’t help the blush that paints itself on your cheeks.

“For you? Always.” He grins back. You two just stare at one another, basking in the memories of your friendship.

“Okay, enough.” Jimin cuts in, his hands on both yours and Jungkook’s shoulders, “Either actually get a room and finally fuck or get on with your nights.”

You and Jungkook exchange awkward glances before turning towards the living room to join the party. Jimin is left at the houses entrance by the front door, totally dumbfounded. “these two idiots…” he scoffs under his breath, his eyes rolling so far back into his head.

Hours pass and you know what? The party isn’t as lame as you thought it might be. You are lost in the music on the living rooms dance floor with a red solo cup in one hand and your phone in the other.

“y/n!” you hear the call of one of your closest girlfriends.

“Trina!!!” you stumble towards her with a lopsided grin, you reach for her bringing her in for a long hug.

“Woah, someone’s drunk.” She laughs her loud laugh that you love so much. “And damn, the titty shirt is out tonight? Nice.”

“Not drunk” you giggle, and then continue to giggle again for no apparent reason.

“Right…” Trina slaps your back enthusiastically, “Where’s…” she then lowers her voice with a smirk, “lover boy?”

“who? Jungkook?” you ask with the tilt of your head.

Trina’s head pushes back with a confused expression, “What? No! I’m talking about…” she lowers her voice again, “Taehyung!”

OH. Right. You had texted Trina as soon as the whole ordeal with Taehyung unraveled. She knows of your long time crush and totally supports the idea of fake dating because as she puts it:

“Girl! This is your chance! Show him what a great girlfriend you would be, he would totally fall in love with you for real for real.”

And you have to say, you like where her head is at. Complete opposite of what Jungkook is always saying.

“Oh, I don’t know. I haven’t see him around.” You sway side to side, your lit up phone catching your attention.

Jungkook 1:22am

Don’t come home tonight ;)

You can’t help but roll your eyes. How is he so quick?

Y/N 1:23am

Alreadyasydy tslked 2 Jiminie, staying w hum toniteeee.

Jungkook 1:24am

y/n…you’re not too drunk right?

Jungkook 1:27am

y/n????

You are back to shaking your ass with Trina by your side, the bass of the music thumping so loudly you can feel it vibrate your whole body. Body after body pushes into you, causing you to stumble every few seconds. But your grip on your refilled solo cup doesn’t loosen, not as you chug back your drink.

“Gonna grab another!” you slur, nodding your head towards the kitchen. Trina only gives you a thumbs up as she continues to dance with some random girl.

The walk to the kitchen feels like it’s taking forever, the way the walls swirl around you makes you feel sick. You stagger through the kitchens walk way when you feel two arms wrap around your middle.

“My girlfriend!” You hear the slur of words in your right ear, loud and clear.

You turn in the man’s hold with squinted eyes,

“Oh hi Tae.” You giggle, encasing him in a hug. Drunk y/n is way more confident. For some reason seeing him like this you don’t feel as nervous or awkward. Then you feel it. The weird, uncomfortable pang in your chest. Why is that? You look up at Taehyung when the sensation of guilt begins to surface. You remind yourself of the mission you’re on, completely ignoring the inner truth that tries to bubble over and smile at him.

Taehyung looks down at you with a goofy grin, his fingers digging into your waist to keep you steady.

“Oh, you’re drunk drunk.” He teases.

“Am not!” you shake away your confusing thoughts and giggle some more. “wanna take a shot with me?” you excitedly ask him, nodding in the direction of the liquor bottles.

“Hell yeah girl!” he says, taking your hand and leading you towards the counter.

“Y/N are you okay????” Taehyung voice is laced in concern as he holds you. Yes, the Kim Taehyung is holding you. “Shit, I shouldn’t have let you drink this much….” But like in a totally pathetic way.

“You…” you lean back, hitting his chest with your pointer finger, “Don’t tell me how much I can or can’t drink!” your voice buzzes as you fall forward but Taehyung catches you again.

“Right right…” he chuckles but then he looks concerned again. “We need to get you home…let’s call Jungkook.”

“No! we caaaannnnoottt do that��” your words are all jumbled together, Taehyung has a hard time understanding you.

“Where’s your phone?”

“Back pocket.” You wink. Like a fucking sleaze.

Taehyung looks conflicted, but in the end he reaches around for your phone and turns it on.

“Holy shit y/n… you have 8 missed calls from Jungkook. And whole lotta texts.”

Jungkook 1:30am

Are you okay??

Jungkook 1:40am

y/n…Youre a big girl so ill just assume youre okay.

Jungkook 3:02am

Just talked to jimin and you aren’t with him?? where are u??

Jungkook 3:18am

Answer your fukin phone

Jungkook 3:23am

Are you still at the party?

Jungkook 3:41am

You aren’t with Trina either? y/n where are you?

Jungkook 4:00am

Don’t make me go back there….pls just answer your phone so I know if youre like, idk fucking alive

Jungkook 4:10am

Fine im going to look for you

“Fuck.” Taehyung hisses under his breath. “I gotta call him…I’m gonna call him okay?”

Your eyes go comically wide at Taehyungs words.

“No!”

“too late” he says, the phone to his hear.

“Hey man, no its me…Taehyung, yeah…yeah….she….” Taehyung eyes you carefully as he speaks on the phone, “She’s fine. She just has had maybe too much to dri—” Taehyung drags a hand down his tired face, “No for fucks sake I didn’t do anything to her. Really dude?”

You lean into Taehyungs space, trying to put your ear to the phone as well and Taehyung can’t help but laugh.

“I read all your texts to be honest…if you have a girl over…what? No, I’m saying y/n can just stay with me…”

Stay with Taehyung? That should make your heart race but—

You think all the alcohol is catching up to you at once and the world becomes even more blurred and a spinning mess. You would give anything to be cuddled up in your blankets with Jungkook taking care of you—wait, no. You don’t need Jungkook to take care of you. You have a perfectly good Taehyung who just offered his place to you.

“I swear man, I’ll take care of h—” Taehyung rolls his eyes, “she might be too drunk to talk….okay, I’ll ask her.” Taehyung lowers the phone and faces you.

“y/n.”

“Hm?” you blink lazily, swaying into Taehyungs chest. Oh no. You feel it, you feel the nausea building up in your tummy, making its way up your chest. On a scale of 1 to 10 how dead would you die if you threw up on Taehyung?

“Do you want Jungkook to come pick you up?”

Jungkook? Like, your Jungkook? Unfortunately for you, your eyes gloss over and probably also unfortunate for Taehyung as well as he looks at you with an alarmed expression . You feel sick. You want to go home. You want to sit on your bathroom floor and throw up in the toilet with Jungkook sitting next to you while he hums a soft tune to soothe you.

“Y-Yes.” You murmur shyly, you begin to sniffle and Taehyung begins to panic.

“Okay man yeah come pick her up.”

“want Jungkook…” you say as a few tears spill over. You are trying your hardest to keep the puke down but its threatening to exit your poor drunk body.

“I think she’s gonna be sick so please hurry…” Taehyung rushes to say over the phone before hanging up.

The next few minutes are a blur, you know Taehyung rushes you to the bathroom. He is overly sweet the whole time you see nothing but blurred, spinning images. He holds your hair back as your body threatens to release tonight’s dinner and says comforting words but nothing makes you feel better. The puke won’t make its guest appearance and your whole world is spinning at a inhumane pace. You’re about to give up on life and fall to the bathroom floor of this gross frat house and try to sleep when you hear him.

“Lemme in dude.” It’s Jungkook. You stir from your sleepy state and turn your head towards the door. He barges in, his eyes landing on you and they soften. He immediately falls to the floor to caress the back of your head and you immediately begin to sob. The tears are out of your control as they slide down your cheeks.

“Don’t...don’t...feel good.” You say between wails, gripping desperately onto his shirt.

“I know baby, I know.” He pulls you into his chest, his hand soothingly running up and down your back. “Has she thrown up yet?” Jungkook looks up at Taehyung with expectant eyes. Taehyung is so caught off guard while watching the two of you.

“uh, no.”

“Okay, can you leave us alone for a while?” Jungkook says somewhat harshly then his features soften as he whispers “She will probably be embarrassed later if you saw…”

“Right.” Taehyung says, his worried expression not going unnoticed by Jungkook. Then Taehyung is on his way out, but he turns one last time to get a look at you.

“feel better y/n” then he is out the door, shutting it behind him.

“Okay y/n…remember what you gotta do?”

“finger?” you slur.

“Yup. Put your finger…yes like that,” he says as you begin to push your finger down your throat to get yourself to throw up.

“I promise you’ll feel better.”

You begin gagging on your finger as you finally throw up in the toilet, Jungkook rubbing your back the entire time giving you words of encouragement.

“Good girl, good girl.” He whispers.

Your face is a fucking mess. Your makeup smeared beyond belief. The black streaks from your tears marking your cheeks in the most horrific way. Jungkook watches you as you cry into his lap on the floor, his heart breaking at the sight. He hated when you drank too much and got like this. He should of never left you alone tonight.

“Jungkook?” you choke out, your tears still spilling from your dark eyes.

“Hm?” he responds, his fingers brushing back your hair.

“Did I ruin your night? Or did you still get some?” you chuckle pathetically.

“Don’t worry about that.” He brushes more hair out of your face, he lifts your head up and places it on a towel. He stands to his feet at the sink, reaching for a towelette and running it under warm water.

“Gonna clean your face okay?” he warns softly.

“kay…” you close your eyes when you feel the wet warmth of the towelette on your cheek. Jungkook is careful to clean you delicately, wiping away the makeup and leaving you spotless.

He’s back under you, your head in his lap and his hands back in your hair.

“you told me you were going to be with Jimin tonight yet you were with Taehyung…”

“It just happened like that” you whisper, sleep beginning to take over.

“I was…really worried about you when I didn’t hear from you, stupid.”

You smile at his words, his touch making you melt.

“Ya know, you’re not the only one allowed to get some Jungkook. I can be like you and have sex too if I want.”

“What are you talking about?” his hand stops in your hair.

“Would if I was getting some? That’s why I didn’t answer?”

“Were you?” his voice is low.

“Well, no—”

“Okay good.”

“Why is that good? Hm?” you open your eyes just a little bit, taking in the hazy world. “Wish it was you I was getting it on with?” you say quietly.

“You’re drunk.”

“I wanna go home.”

“take a nap first, okay?” his fingers begin playing in your hair again, “I’ll wake you up in 30 minutes.”

Your eyes are already closed when he says this, sleep already welcoming you in its warm embrace. “Kay” you murmur.

Jungkook plays with your hair as you snooze in his lap, he watches the rise and fall of your chest and wonders what it would be like to lay his head on it and sleep too.

Bbrrrr bbbrrrrr bbrrrr brrrrrr

A phone call. The most horrifying buzzing occurs next to your face as you sleep peacefully in your bed. Wait, how did you get home last night? You remember drinking and dancing the night away, you remember hanging out with Taehyung…oh no, you remember Jungkook coming to the rescue. Oh no...

You try to open your eyes, but the light from the sun is too damn blinding. You squint at what is in view. Right in front of you, you see black locks of hair poking out of the blanket, a dark blue blanket. You recognize this blanket. Jungkook’s blanket. You are in Jungkook’s bed. With Jungkook. This isn’t so surprising, you imagine you had refused to sleep in your own bed last night—

Bbbrrrr bbbrrrr brrrr brrrrr

Right. Your phone.

You fumble the phone trying to pick it up and answer it when Jungkook groans next to you,

“Hurry up and answer it” he says, sliding deeper under the covers.

“Hello?” you croak out, your voice hoarse and honestly? Disgusting.

“Hey y/n!” This voice is way too damn chipper for whatever ungodly hour it is.

“Tae?”

“Good afternoon sleepy head! Did I wake you?” Afternoon? What time is it? You pull the phone away from your face to check the time.

2:06pm

Holy shit, you’ve slept the day away.

“No no,” you lie, “Just in bed…” you say sitting up from where you lay.

“Great! Do you think maybe I could…come over? We can discuss the whole fake dating thing.” He chuckles into the phone. COME OVER? Immediately you begin smoothing down your hair with your free hand and start to peel back the covers to get out of bed.

“Umm, when?” you glance over at sleeping Jungkook, his face mostly hidden behind the blanket.

“Maybe around 6? I could cook you dinner? I know you had a rough night…”

Fucking great. You don’t want to think of last night, you will die of fucking embarrassment.

“yeah…listen, you don’t have to do all that—”

“I want to!” Taehyung is quick to cut you off, “As your boyfriend—fake boyfriend it is my duty to take care of you!” you feel like you can see the boxy smile on his face. It makes you motherfucking swoon.

“Okay then, 6.” You smile into the phone. “Bye tae.”

You bring the phone down into your lap, clicking the end button. Dinner with Taehyung? Like a date? You can’t help but feel internally giddy at the thought. You squeal for a second before Jungkook speaks up.

“What’s at 6?” he peeks from under the covers, his voice husky and groggy.

“Oh… nothing” you sing, a bright smile on your face.

“Something with Tae?” he begins to sit himself up as well.

“We’re just going to have dinner and talk about the whole fake dating thing.” You beam.

“You’re still doing that shit?”

Automatically you go from super excited to annoyed. Only Jungkook can do that to you.

“It’s harmless, Jungkook. Plus…”

“plus what?” he raises a single brow.

“Trina says this is a good opportunity…”

“y/n I have told you not to get too involved with this guy, but you don’t listen to me.” Jungkook crosses his arms over his chest, then bows his head down in defeat.

“But whatever, learn your fucking lessons by yourself.”

You can’t help but feel like Jungkook is once again looking down at you, like you aren’t good enough for Taehyung. Your breaths become unsteady as you just stare at your best friend like he isn’t constantly hurting your feelings on the matter.

“I—I will be fine. I want him, Jungkook. And this is—this is a good opportunity to show him I can be a good enough girlfriend ya know—”

“Just stop.” Jungkook cuts you off in a harsh tone. “I never said you weren’t good enough? You’re just not what he wants.” Jungkook can see how his words break you further. “Fuck. Forget I said that, y/n…”

“Why can’t he want me?”

Jungkook hates just how quietly you ask that…he hates how defeated you sound, how defeated you look…your head hanging low with no attempt to even look at him.

“He’s just…”

“No, it’s fine. Don’t answer that” You stand from the bed and begin walking towards his door. You look down to see you’re wearing nothing but Jungkook’s t shirt and some panties, you groan at your own shamelessness when you hear the rushed ruffling of the comforter behind you and the plop of feet landing on the ground. Jungkook stands behind you, his fingers wrapped around your wrist.

“Just move on y/n…”

I’m fucking trying to, is what you want to say but instead you opt for a harsh ‘leave me alone’ as you exit his room.

You spend the next couple of hours pampering yourself, you had a rough night and you totally deserve a piece of cake, this bubble bath and face mask. You want to feel relaxed but you can’t get the image of Jungkook out of your head. You hate it when the two of you fight. You mean, to others this would hardly come off as a ‘fight’ but you and Jungkook never really have negative energy. So, yes. It’s a fight. He’s the last person in the world you want to fight with. Yet here you are.

But then the image of Taehyung cooking you dinner enters your mind and somehow you feel a little more at ease. Was this a date? You giggle to yourself, blowing bubbles that reaches your lips as you sink deeper into the tub. You have an hour before Taehyung was to arrive at your apartment…your shared apartment. God, you hope Jungkook takes a hint and goes and hangs out with Jimin or something.

You finally rise from the tub and dry off your now freshly cleansed body. The scent of lavender fills the air and you feel satisfied with how your bath turned out.

You read the clock…5:30pm and you know it’s time to get dressed.

You settle for some high waisted shorts and a white tank top with a purple bralette where the straps are generously shown. Looking into the mirror, you decide to do light makeup and tinted lip balm. You don’t want to try too hard for the boy you’re trying to woo.

And bam. 6pm right on the dot you hear the door being lightly knocked. You begin walking towards the front door but stop to see if Jungkook is in his room or not. He’s not. Relief washes over you as you continue to walk towards the front door. But where did he go? You’re relieved he isn’t home but feel anxious that you don’t know where he could have gone. Maybe to Jimin’s? Maybe to some random girls? Somehow this makes you feel more anxious. You shake away those thoughts and swing the front door open.

“Hey there.” Taehyungs boxy grin is enough to get you pregnant. Like, god damn. He looks amazing. He’s got dress pants and some floral shirt and his hair looks slightly wet. That’s not the only thing slightly wet. You internally cringe at your thought.

“Hey Tae, come on in.” you open the door wider to let the boy through. He walks past you and makes himself comfortable in the kitchen, setting down a bag of what you assume is probably groceries.

“You like spaghetti?” he asks excitedly, almost like a child.

“Who doesn’t?” you smirk walking his way and sitting down at the breakfast table. “Need any help?” you offer.

“Not at all.” Taehyung begins unpacking his things and gets to work in the kitchen. You watch in awe, your head nuzzled in your hands as he does his thing.

“Dinner was amazing Tae.” You go to compliment the chef. It really was. The noodles were long and soft and the sauce was very flavorful. Did you really just compliment the length and softness of fucking noodles? Wow, you are whipped. You almost wish Taehyung was your roommate and not useless in the kitchen Jungkook. Oh. Jungkook. The thought of him enters your mind and it has you hurting. You may be having a blast with your crush but you and your best friend are still in the middle of a fight. About said crush. But this really is your chance. You can get Taehyung to like you, maybe even fall for you. And you need this. You need this. So you can’t give up, no matter what Jungkook says.

“Not as amazing as you” Taehyung winks but then his face drops, “Sorry that was cheesy, wasn’t it?” he drags a hand down his handsome face. “I suck at flirting.”

You look up at him, completely intrigued.

“You’re trying to flirt with me?” you can’t help but to smile slyly.

“Of course I am!” Taehyung laughs loudly then reaches for his backpack in the chair next to his and pulls out a notebook.

“So I wrote some ideas for this whole fake dating thing.” He becomes just a tad more serious as a nervous grin lights up his face.

“Oh really? Should I have a look?” you say reaching for the notebook with grabby hands, “Gimme!”

Taehyung chuckles while pulling the notebook to his chest, “No! Miss Greedy.” He teases. “How about I just read them and we can discuss?”

“fine.” You pout, “Whatever you say.”

“Whatever I say? I like the sound of that.” He smirks then his eyes fall to the paper in front of him. “First, we should go on dates…like all the time. The more time we spend together the more believable it’ll be. Ya know?”

“Okay, makes sense. Makes sense.”

“Second, we should attend all parties together and leave together too.” Then his eyes go wide, “I just mean—like don’t worry, I’ll make sure I get you home.”

You can’t help but giggle, nodding your head to his words.

“Third, we should post each other on social media! For example, I can take a picture of tonight’s date and post it on the gram.”

“Tonight was a date?” you ask, a delighted smile making its way on your face.

“Well, yeah…” he answers shyly.

“anything else?” you question, leaning your head in your hands as you look into his big brown eyes.

“Well….. there is one more thing I wrote down….” He answers awkwardly. His eyes sliding to the side to avert your gaze.

“oh? What is it?” you try to take a peek at the paper, curiosity getting the best of you—as usual.

“I’ll just let you read it…” he then pushes the notebook on the table in your direction, you excitedly pick it up and skim the paper. You look at all the things he wrote down, smiling because he even added his own tips.

Buy her flowers.

Movie dates?

Netflix and chill

Cook her dinner

How cute. He even added little doodles. Your eyes continue to skim the page as your smile grows at how much thought he has put into this. Your heart is beating out of your chest…you know this is all fake and for show but you cannot help how happy its making you feel. You continue to smile and hum as your eyes skim lower and lower until you see the last thing on his list.

No Jungkook.

Huh? Your smile begins to falter. No Jungkook? What does that even mean? You look up to meet Taehyungs eyes. He’s already anxiously staring at you.

“I don’t understand?” you breathe out, “What does that mean?”

“No Jungkook.” He half whispers.

“You—you realize he is my best friend? Why no Jungkook?” you pinch your brows together in confusion.

“It’s just…” Taehyung begins to explain himself, “You two are awfully close. And people already get the wrong idea about you two. Like, all the fucking time. Even I think sometimes…that’s not important. It just means for one month, you’re mine. And I don’t want people to get the wrong idea if you’re always with Jungkook.” He pulls at the hair at his neck. “Is this making sense?” Taehyung looks flustered trying to get out all of his words.

“It would make me look pathetic don’t you think? That my supposed girlfriend is always with some other guy? I mean, y/n it’s just for one month…”

One month without Jungkook? Would you really choose a boy over your best friend? Even if only for a month?

“Tae… I don’t know.” You look down at your hands as your breathing begins to pick up.

“I can’t just abandon my best friend for an entire month…”

“I mean, you guys live together so it’s not like you won’t be seeing him. Just in public…ya know?”

Taehyung has a point, you try to reason. If you have a boyfriend it’s only natural to spend most of your time with them. But it still felt wrong. But… a part of you feels like this is a good idea, actually. You’ve always been meaning to put at least some distance between you and Jungkook, ya know, for your own sake. But this feels wrong. You’re about to decline his request when you hear the front door open and Jungkook’s shuffles in. He has his airpods in and doesn’t even spare you a glance. He walks straight to his bedroom and slams the door shut.

You feel embarrassed in front of your guest that your roommate and also yeah, your best fucking friend didn’t even acknowledge you.

“Uh, he’s in a mood” you try covering for Jungkook. Then you feel the buzz of your phone and you go to check it

Jungkook 8:02pm

Watching you fawn over him is just pathetic, but like, good luck.

All you see is red. Jungkook once again shitting on your love life and raining on your god damn parade. You know what? This is your chance with Taehyung and you aren’t going to let your bratty best friend ruin that for you.

“You know what, Tae?” you say setting your phone on the table.

“Yeah?”

“You’re right. I agree with your list.”

“Wait—you do? Even the Jung—”

“Yup.”

Taehyung tilts his head to the side as a wide grin makes its way across his face, “should we shake on it?” he asks with his hand pushed out in front of you.

You take his hand in yours, squeezing tightly before you pull him in and seal the deal with a quick kiss. Taehyung’s shocked expression makes you giggle, “Thought that would make it more official”

“I like having you as a girlfriend already.”

One month without Jungkook? Bring it on.

#bts #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #taehyung #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader

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makeste · 4 years ago

Text

BnHA Chapter 301: All My Todorokis

Previously on BnHA: We learned that when a bunch of superpowered villains are suddenly set loose with nobody around to stop them, things get fucked pretty quickly. Old Man Samurai and a bunch of other useless people decided to make “I pretend I do not see it” their new mantra, and resigned. Endeavor had a moment of despair on account of being crushed by the guilt of having ruined the lives of himself, his family, and basically everyone else in the entire world. For various reasons the heretical notion of “person who has done bad things feels sorry for doing them” sent fandom spiraling into a meltdown, so that was fun. The chapter ended with the entire Todoroki clan descending upon Enji’s hospital room to have a dramatic chat about Touya and All That General Fuckery.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “here’s the story of how Baby Touya slowly went insane trying to win his father’s love.” It’s a tale full of subverted expectations and heartbreaking inevitability, and also like twenty panels of the cutest fucking kids who ever existed on planet earth, who are so fucking cute that I can’t stop thinking about their cuteness even with all of the horrifying family tragedy unfolding around them. It is absolutely ridiculous how cute they are. Touya is out here pushing his tiny body past its limits because he inherited the same obsession as his dad and neither of them can put it aside even though it’s destroying them, and yet all I can think about is Baby Shouto’s (。･o･｡) face. Anyways what a chapter.

so I have to confess that even though I managed to avoid being caught off-guard by the early leaks, the number of people reblogging my Endeavor posts from earlier this week and using the tag “bnha 301” kind of gave me an inkling that this chapter will include more Tododrama lol. that said, I don’t know anything else about it, so we’re still good spoiler-wise

AHHHHH FLAHSBAKC AHHHH. omg I know I typoed the shit out of that, but I’m just going to leave it lol I think it’s fitting

holy shit holy fuck. so this is Rei and Enji’s first meeting, then??

yepppp, oh shit

so wait, I know this is not even the slightest bit important, but are they meeting at Enji’s home or Rei’s? because I always figured that Enji was the one with the super-Japanese aesthetic, but maybe that was Rei’s side of the family all along

(ETA: from what I found during my very brief google search, omiai meetings are often held at fancy hotels or restaurants, so maybe that’s what this is.)

there’s such a period drama feel to this setting. like it’s so outrageously formal fff how can anyone stand this kind of atmosphere though seriously

OH THANK GOD

I mean they’re still stiff af but at least they’re not rigidly sitting in seiza and staring at each other unblinkingly anymore lol. Enji’s actually got his hands in his pockets now. why is this somehow almost cute

oh damn it’s the flowers

Rei seems so subdued and it’s so hard to get any idea of what she’s actually thinking. I want to see her side of this dammit

but anyway, so at least from Enji’s perspective it seems like even though the marriage was arranged and he picked her because of her quirk, he still loved his wife and wanted to do right by her. the fact that he was watching her and noticed that she liked the flowers, and remembered that detail for all these years -- there’s a reason why Horikoshi’s showing us this. we know what’s going to happen later on; we know how much fear and violence and breaking of trust is coming up ahead, and while it may seem like this scene is serving to soften Enji’s character further -- which to be fair it is -- it also helps drive home the full impact of his abuse. that it’s so terrible not only because of the trauma of the abuse itself, but also because of the way it retroactively destroys all of the good things as well. this could have potentially been such a sweet scene, but it’s inescapably tainted by the knowledge of what’s to come, at least for me. and that’s just brutal

anyways, shit. is the whole chapter going to be like this?? feel free to toss in something I can actually make a joke about sometime, Horikoshi

oop, back to the present

omfg lol

“are you all right” “NO I’M NOT ALL RIGHT WHAT THE FUCK.” “oh, right, because of all the stuff that’s happened with me abusing you and you having a mental breakdown and being hospitalized for ten years and then our son coming back to life and killing thirty people, right, right. I almost forgot.” whoops

omfg you guys I’m loving this new and improved steely-eyed Rei. I’m loving her a lot

and what do you mean “part one” fkjds how long is this going to be. TOO MUCH DRAMA FOR ONE CHAPTER TO HANDLE

oh, hello

yeah I’ll say you did. didn’t seem to bother you much at the time, though

HMMMMMMMMMMMM

Dabi Is A Noumu intensifies even further. anyways though would you fucking look at this boy lounging on this moth-eaten couch doing his best DRAW ME LIKE YOUR FRENCH GIRLS impression wtf

Dabi what if you actually had killed him??? what would you feel?? satisfaction?? regret?? anything at all?? tell me your secrets goddammit

who are you talking to buddy

Fuyumi-chan, Natsu-kun (is it common for brothers to address each other as -kun?? can’t recall seeing that in many other anime, but hey), and “dot dot dot,,,,,, SHOUTO” lol thank you so much for this bountiful heaping of Tododrama Horikoshi we are blessed

AH, WHAT DID I SAY THE OTHER DAY

ULTIMATE MELODRAMATIC THEATER CHILD. “I’M JUST GOING TO LIE ON THIS COUCH SHIRTLESS AND ALONE AND MAKE SPEECHES TO MY FAMILY MEMBERS WHO AREN’T THERE AND SAY THINGS LIKE ‘WATCH ME IN THE PITS OF HELL’ WITH A STRAIGHT FACE BECAUSE NO ONE’S THERE TO JUDGE ME.” WELL JOKE’S ON YOU MISTER CHATTERBOX BECAUSE I AM IN FACT JUDGING THE SHIT OUT OF YOU LOL

(ETA: and on a more serious note, it’s interesting to see that “look at me”/”watch me” theme being used again though, because we see that same sentiment uttered repeatedly by the younger Touya in the flashback. well kid, you definitely got your wish at last. don’t know what else to say.)

OKAY HORIKOSHI HAS DECIDED THAT’S ENOUGH FUN, TIME FOR MORE FLASHBACKS

oh my sweet precious lord

just as cute as we left him. giving us a child this cute when we all know full well what’s going to happen to him is just unspeakably cruel though

HOMG

I’m fucking speechless. you broke me, congratulations. what am I even supposed to do with this

I can’t get over this. moving forward my life will be split into two distinct parts, B.P. (Before the Pout) and A.P. (After the Pout)

and meanwhile there’s ALL THIS BACKGROUND ANGST BUILDING UP, AND I CAN’T EVEN FOCUS ON IT. Touya’s arm and cheek are covered in bandages (I’m guessing this is shortly after that “ouch!” panel we got some chapters back), and Enji is deliberately avoiding training with him because he doesn’t want him to hurt himself further. I can’t fucking get over the irony that all this time everyone thought Touya had died because Enji pushed him too far in his training, and it turns out that it’s the opposite -- the tragedy ultimately happened because he didn’t want to push him. but I’m jumping ahead of myself though I guess

by the way,

remember this?? just wanted to remind you that it exists just in case you forgot

so now someone is talking and basically saying that Touya is the exact opposite of what Enji was hoping for when he decided to start playing with quirk genetics

-- okay hold up

...lol no, never mind. for a second I thought “holy shit he looks kind of familiar WHAT IF IT’S UJIKO OMG” before I remembered that Enji would have recognized him during the hospital capture mission if that was the case. so NEVER MIND, PROCEED

IMAGINE THAT, ENJI DOESN’T QUITE SEEM SATISFIED WITH THIS SUGGESTION OF QUITTING NOW

(ETA: how the fuck did this man go around saving 62 towns in a single day what even is All Might.)

[clicks tongue several times] trouble a’brewin’

MEANWHILE BABY TOUYA HAS UNFORTUNATELY INHERITED HIS DAD’S STUBBORN STREAK

KLDIHWOEIJFL:KSDJ

!!!!!!!!!!!

oh my god. oh my god. what is this chapter. WHAT IS IT

so now Touya is all “YOU JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND MY MANLY DESIRE TO BURN MYSELF ALIVE” well you got her there champ

THEY’RE TOO CUTE. OH MY GOD. HIS FURIOUS LITTLE TEARS. HER CHUBBY LIL FACE. HIS STUBBY LIL FISTS. SOMEONE HELP ME

also are they just home alone lol or what. “hey Touya, you’re what, like six now?? do us a favor and look after your baby sister for a couple hours for us would you? make sure not to set yourself on fire or anything.” WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG!!

now it’s nighttime and Enji and Rei are arguing, presumably about his decision not to train Touya anymore

whew. okay. so, a couple of things here

1. first of all I think this conclusively shows that Enji really was trying to do the best he could for Touya. he stopped training him as soon as he realized it was hurting him, but Touya was still determined so he tried to make it work anyway, and even visited doctors to try and figure out if there was anything they could do. then, once they were absolutely sure that it wasn’t going to work, he tried multiple times to explain to Touya why they had to stop. he didn’t just abandon him out of the blue, which is really important to note. “no matter how much I tried telling him...”

so yeah, that debunks another common fandom accusation. so by the time he finally makes this decision, which we all know is going to turn out horribly, it’s basically because he’s already tried everything else he could think of. which, by the way, still doesn’t mean he handled this right. but at the very least he was taking Touya’s feelings into account and he was trying, and he didn’t just abruptly toss his son aside (at least not yet)

2. buuuut, then there’s this panel right below all that

which is the other side of it. if he’d just quit like the doctor person advised him to, that would have been the end of it. Touya would still have been upset, but he would have eventually gotten over it and the family would have moved on and possibly even been happy. but what happens next happens because Enji can’t let go. he still has this maddening urge to surpass All Might, and so he and Rei keep having more children, and then Shouto is born, and Enji finally has a kid he can start projecting all of his hysterical ambitions onto once again, and everything starts spiraling out of control soon after

though p.s. none of that is Shouto’s fault though!! he’s one of the few good things to come out of this whole mess and I’m very happy that he exists. the tragedy is that his dad fucking lost his mind over his quirk and fucked everything up. but that’s on him, not Touya or Shouto

anyways, SLKFJLSHGLKJL

I CAN’T FUCKING TAKE THIS YOU GUYS??? LOOK AT THAT LIL BUTTON OF A NOSE??? I’M LOSING IT HERE???

AND TOUYA JUST SEEMS DEVASTATED OMG

because children aren’t stupid, after all. he understands that his dad is still looking to surpass All Might. and so he feels like a failure, and feels like his dad is trying to replace him because he wasn’t good enough. and even now, isn’t that what the adult Touya is trying to prove?? that he was good enough after all?? “I’ll show you what happens when you give up on me, dad”?? “I’ll show you what I can do”?? fuck my life fuck everything

AND YOU CAN SEE THE TOLL THAT IT’S ALL TAKING ON REI GETTING WORSE AND WORSE AS WELL OH GOD

really nice touch here with the panel outlines becoming all shimmery from the heat of Endeavor’s flames (and/or becoming more unstable as the family gets closer and closer to their breaking point). but man, Horikoshi I can’t handle this, please show us more cute kids or something I can’t

GKELKWFJLDKSHFLKL

WITTLE BABE. BEEB. BUBS. SMOL. lkj; oh ouch a piece of my heart just detached and latched onto him huh look at that

TODOROKI “I’M SO SMALL AND I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT’S GOING ON AND I DIDN’T ASK TO BE HERE” SHOUTO AHHHHH

crazy how they all just seem to know right off the bat lol. kid doesn’t even have object permanence yet, let alone a quirk. but do they care?? IT’S THE HAIR, RIGHT. WE’RE ALL THINKING IT, I’M JUST GONNA COME OUT AND SAY IT. they knew the minute they looked at him lol

AND MEANWHILE TOUYA IS OFF HAVING UNSUPERVISED TRAINING/CRYING SESSIONS IN THE MOUNTAINS OR WHATEVER, AND, UH OH

are those blue flames yet?? they seem pretty close

(ETA: this is one of the few cases where the manga being in black and white is infuriating lol.)

OH MY GOD AND STILL

so it’s not like he was so disinterested that he didn’t notice what was happening, and he was still trying to stop it and get through to him. trying to reassure him that it wasn’t the end of the world and there were other things he could do with his life, but this one particular thing just wasn’t going to happen

fucking hell. it’s agonizing seeing how close they actually were to fixing it. if he’d only said the right words, or if he’d realized at this point how destructive his obsession could be to his kids, and backed off from putting that same pressure on Shouto. we came so close to possibly having a happy ending

AND ALSO THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH ANYTHING BUT PLEASE LOOK AT HOW TOUYA IS LIKE THREE AND A HALF FEET TALL AND HIS DAD IS LIKE NINE AND A HALF FEET. Touya barely comes past his knees flkjlkg. the Todoroki household must have been so filled with like plastic stepstools to reach the bathroom sink and all the little baby toothbrushes, and baby gates to keep the kiddos out of the important grown-up rooms and stuff. and also days-old half-empty cups of water and stale crackers and hot wheels and my little ponies strewn everywhere

“BUT EVERYONE AT SCHOOL SAYS THEY’RE GONNA BE HEROES” a wild Deku parallel appears?? how bout that

I know this is like a pivotal moment in the Todo Tragedy and all, but fucking look at this lil dumpling

“sup bro, it’s me, the manifestation of your fears of inadequacy and lack of fatherly affections. a GAAA. ba-baAA-baa [gurgling baby sounds]”

OHHHHH IT’S THE SOUND OF MY HEART BREAKING OH NO

HE WANTS TO BE LIKE YOU ENJI. good lord somebody please just get this family some therapy

“DAD YOU IGNITED IT IN ME” flkjslkj nope, nope. not ready for this pain here

baby Shouto, would you like to weigh in on this affair? “DA!! ba-ga-daaa, [pacifier chewing noises]” oh my, you don’t say. so insightful for one so young

OH MY GODDDDDD

IT’S SO DRAMATIC BUT ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT ARE THE SHOUNEN WOOSH LINES SURROUNDING FOUR-MONTH-OLD SHOUTO LOL HE WAS LIKE THIS FROM BIRTH OH MY GOD I AM DYING HELP

SHOUTO YOU’RE RUINING THIS ENTIRE CHAPTER!?!?!

“yo, the fuck kind of family was I fucking born into” oh, son. if you only knew. IF YOU ONLY KNEW!!

(ETA: lmao I got so distracted by the ridiculous cuteness that I glossed over the fact that Baby Touya seems to possibly be aiming at him?? it’s hard to tell because he’s also super out of it from heatstroke and may just be losing control in his attempt to show off his upgrade.)

ANYWAY THAT’S THE END EXCEPT WHAT’S THIS LAST LINE OMG

ffffff. and we’re in for ANOTHER chapter of this next week?? MORE drama?? MORE BABIES?? MORE OF EIGHT-YEAR-OLD TOUYA’S SLOW DESCENT INTO MADNESS. MY HEART CAN’T TAKE IT, BUT ALSO YES PLEASE SIGN ME UP

#bnha 301 #dabi #todoroki touya #endeavor #todoroki enji #todoroki rei #todoroki shouto #todoroki fuyumi #todoroki natsuo #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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sparklingpax · 3 years ago

Text

The Art of Cooking, or...Not Knowing How

A/N:

-Based on my HC that Ginrai can't cook, has no experience since he never had the time to learn, and every time he tries it goes very wrong. On the other side, Hawk is a great cook, and usually ends up cooking for the base when no one else can. Shush, I like this headcanon ok--

-by this point theyre pretty much a couple :3 or at least, openly physically affectionate towards one another ^^

-oo yes also, set in canon, (hence the tags) but tbh, many of my HCs for canon versions of the characters carry into my Reverie stuff so...this exact thing could definitely happen in that universe loll ✨

-shoutout to anyone who has listened to me ramble about this exact scenario before because not only did you endure that bs but now you get a whole elaborate fanfic about it so....holy shit im so sorry jsdjsiskjsd 💀😳

-omg dont hate cloudburst btw I didn't know how to write this to make him look less bad but I swear hes not a bad person and none of the others are either they just. are used to letting Hawk do most of their paperwork for them & also the other three pretenders (not Hawk) have sort of, day jobs? So they are pretty busy....

-literally y'all I'm so sorry this exists, I blame the early morning hours of yesterday and a single cup of coffee this morning getting me from start to finish of this thing in record time. and my own inability to cook fueling this idea in the first place lmaooo I hope it's at least...somewhat enjoyable....so without further ado, here I go again with self-indulgent ginhawk content o///o''

-bruh it's been an actual age since I've written & finished a real fic-type thing...😳😳 again like, I'm praying I didn't miss anything in my grammar/typo checking 😅

-i sincerely hope you enjoy :]

///

“But—but I can cook!”

“You…can cook?”

“Yeah!”

“You can…cook?” Hawk repeated, as if this was impossible to believe.

“I—yeah? Well, I'm not all good at it, but it's food, right? It's edible…” Hawk raised an eyebrow at this as Ginrai pursed his lips and looked away, flushing slightly.

Suddenly, the kitchen seemed to fill again with the distinctive smell of burning chicken.

The image of large, misshapen chunks of it rather…creatively charred to ashy black and stuck to a Teflon pan.

Ginrai waving the smoke frantically, and then grabbing his cup of drinking water splashing it over the smoky meat, rendering it more inedible than it had already been….it was an amusing, yet depressing sight.

Hawk also recalled the price of the new pan he’d gone and ordered online an hour after.

He wasn’t joking when he told me it was dangerous to leave him alone in the kitchen. Was he aware it was burning before the smoke started up?

“Ok, ok…so I’m no world-famous chef...” Ginrai admitted hotly. He started to play with a stray fork from the newly-cleaned load.

Hawk stifled laughter and shook his head wordlessly. Ducking below the counter to organize the lids of pots and pans, his lips played at a smile.

“Yeah, that poor pan might have to agree with you—”

“But I would....like to…try again. Maybe, with some guidance this time,” he added more quietly.

“So that you don’t burn the food?”

“Pretty much,” Ginrai agreed, watching Hawk turn on the sink, continuing to unload the dishwasher.

Absentmindedly, he let his eyes follow the trail of water as it ran from the faucet next to him, freely touching on the items piled in the sink. From the upside-down bowl, down the slim, blue plates, pooling in another bowl, or heading further down to fill an empty red container….

“And…would you be aiming for somewhat of an edible meal this time around?” Hawk asked innocently.

“'Somewhat'—”

A sparkle flashed in the trucker’s gaze, and he reached forward to flick the running water at Hawk, who ducked to the side. The water hit him anyway, but he didn’t mind.

Meanwhile, Ginrai attempted to defend himself.

Hawk began loading the dishes now.

“In my defense, I’ve only made chicken twice in my life, and that fiasco last week doesn’t count!!”

“Well, neither do the other two times, since those were microwaveable chicken dinners—”

“Shut up!”

But they were both laughing.

Hawk got to thinking all the same.

As it was, there weren’t many people left in HQ at the moment, and fewer who could actually cook. Ordering out was not an option since their budget for the month declared they were already $126 over that spending limit.

So, all that considered, the duty of cooking fell upon Hawk once again.

Well…I have paperwork to start on, but as long as nothing else comes up, cooking shouldn't be a problem.

A quick knock on the side of the kitchen’s entrance grabbed the attention of the pair, and they looked up to see Cloudburst standing on the wooden threshold, holding some papers.

Ginrai had no idea what they were, but from the look on Hawk’s face, one could guess he did.

“Oh—hey, Clouds,” Ginrai waved, grinning.

The man waved back a little sheepishly. It didn’t look like he was here to hang around for fun.

He quickly looked to Hawk, and before he could say anything, the Pretender commander straightened and closed the dishwasher, entering the settings for the load.

“You…need those investigative patrol reports done, I presume?” He asked, not looking up. As the machine whirred into action, he moved to the sink and started to clean it.

The silence that followed seemed to suffice for an answer.

And suddenly, Ginrai noticed, Hawk looked tired. Very tired.

After all, Ginrai remembered, it was Hawk who ended up doing most of the paperwork associated with their team. He was supposed to review them, too…

“I take it you forgot to do these, and they’re part of what’s due tomorrow?”

Cloudburst was beginning to look a little embarrassed, and he started to play with the edges of the papers for a moment before stepping into the kitchen and setting them down on the marbled counter.

Finally, he spoke.

“I—well, yes. And I was going to do them tonight, but my office called and, um, they’ve sort of—they’ve got a lot of guys out. Naturally, there need to be people at the desks doing stuff, but also someone to sit watch on the communications station, and I don’t know if my boss would be too happy to have me call in to let him know I can’t…go either…”

Cloudburst broke off abruptly as he watched Hawk slipped his apron off and turned to face him, a polite look tying his features to a mild, calm expression. He leaned over and rifled through the papers for a moment, then spoke again.

“Don’t worry about it, go and do your job.”

“R-really? And…you’re ok with it?”

Hawk nodded. “This kind of thing can’t be helped.”

Ginrai made a slight face. He wasn't so sure about that one.

“I’m just glad you told me now rather than five hours from now. Remember to let me know immediately if anything important comes through the communications room tonight.”

Cloudburst smiled, saluted. “Yes, sir!”

He then gave a ‘goodbye’ nod to Ginrai, and quickly left the room.

Just a little curious, Ginrai leaned over the counter to take a look at the papers himself, then winced at the sight of nearly-illegible text scrawled in different places on the page, in different shapes, shorthand—

So….this is what they look like before they’re done. This is what he’s got to work with.

The young Autobot commander started to feel bad about the fact that clearly, he’d never even done the record-keeping part of reports, let alone the actual filing of them. In his opinion, they were a little pointless, but that didn’t mean someone wouldn’t get stuck with them anyway.

Yes, it technically wasn’t his duty as the leader of the team, but…he still felt guilty.

It looked like a lot of work, after all.

Hawk really did a lot for the team, Ginrai was always fully aware, just…he wondered if anyone else seemed to realize that. Like, really realize.

If they did, maybe they’d be more careful about their own paperwork stuff, instead of dumping it on Hawk all the time, who’s too nice to say no.

Next to him, Hawk was already starting to read the papers over. Ginrai vaguely recalled the list of projects the man was already swamped with, and came to a new resolve.

Ok, next team meeting, I’ll ask them all to start doing their own reports. I am their leader now, I can do that sort of thing.

Feeling good about this, he put an arm around Hawk, leaning over and giving him a soft kiss on his head. With a soft exhale, Hawk seemed to accept the gesture, letting his weight fall more limply on Ginrai. The smile on his features was a tired one, but it read of soft gratitude.

Neither said a word for a few heartbeats, letting the silence embrace them. No one needed to say anything, no one wanted to.

Outside, the autumn sky had begun to darken, making it seem much further into the night than it likely was. It was as if there was not a living soul in that base save for them.

Then, Hawk shifted and Ginrai stepped to the side to let him stretch.

“Do you need me to do anything?” He offered. The grin from earlier seemed to return.

“Well, Supreme Commander,” Hawk said, giving him a decidedly more sultry look.

“Well, my lovely subordinate?” Ginrai prompted, blushing lightly.

“I’m going to need some help getting dinner done if I want to have time to file those reports before the deadline…”

Ginrai’s eyes sparkled. He knew where this was going.

“…you said you wanted to try cooking again?”

“Hell yeah!”

///

“Alright, now that we have our water…” Hawk motioned to the pot sitting in the sink, then the stove. “It’s got to heat up.”

Ginrai nodded, still rubbing his newly bandaged hand.

Minutes ago, the two had thought to prepare the vegetables going into the pasta before starting on anything else, just to get it out of the way.

Hawk had begun cutting things up while Ginrai watched, then after a few minutes, handed Ginrai the knife to give him a go at it.

Not a minute went by before the man decided to speed up the cutting pace, drop the knife, and well…the band-aid could speak for itself.

It was quickly decided that Hawk would handle all the other parts of this dish, and Ginrai would be on the pasta, and only the pasta.

What could go wrong there, after all?

“Um…you wanted the fire on high?”

“Yes.”

“So, I turn the knob this way?”

“Other way.”

“Oh, yes, right.”

“Alright."

Hawk quickly added, a little nervously, “And please, try not to burn yourself.”

Ginrai gave a thumbs up, then moved to operate the stove. He frowned at its lack of fire after turning the knob. After a moment or two of trying, he looked to Hawk again. He’d forgotten to push the knob inwards to get the fire going, but clearly wasn’t aware of that.

“Is…is this thing on?”

Hawk fought the urge to start laughing. It would be light-hearted, but he didn’t want to hurt Ginrai’s feelings, so he bit his tongue instead.

He must not be joking when he says everything he eats is store-bought and microwaved.

What made this especially funny was how he did this wearing an apron Hawk remembered receiving as a Christmas gift from Waverider.

The front side read “Master Chef, Move Along” in English, written with big, red letters.

The irony of it was almost too much for Hawk. However, he composed himself and walked over to the stove.

“Push it first, hold,” as he did this, a rhythmic crackling noise sprang from the stove, “and then, you’ve got a fire. So now, turn it where you need.” He stepped back and watched as Ginrai tentatively held the knob, then nodded to himself.

“Alright, fire on high, here we come,” he murmured. And with a gentle twist, the fire popped up under the smoky grates at what seemed to be the ‘high’ setting.

At last, they were getting somewhere!

A half hour had gone by, but perhaps the next one would make up for the lost time. And, thankfully, Ginrai hadn’t burnt himself on anything—or burnt anything—yet. The pot was carefully placed atop the fire with no troubles.

Now, it was time to for Hawk to focus on finishing the rest of the meal. Dumping the tomatoes into the bowl and beginning to crush them, Hawk called to Ginrai to add the pasta to the water if it seemed to be boiling.

“And…how do I tell it’s boiling?”

“Bubbles,” Hawk responded more quietly, seeming very focused on smashing the tomatoes in his bowl.

“Got it!”

The trucker glanced at the pot and saw a couple bubbles. Two, he counted, probably from when he’d filled the pot with water.

Did he mean a lot of bubbles or a little?

Guess there was only one way to know.

He then looked to the unopened box of pasta lying near the edge of the counter. Quickly, Ginrai opened it and plopped it into the water, jumping back as it splashed out a little.

From where he was standing, Hawk called out to him.

“Could you grab the two bowls near the window? The water will need some salt, and this paste will need some flavoring.”

“Roger!”

Hawk thought about going to check the bowls, but his present task seemed to have all his concentration. He only hoped Ginrai knew the difference between the two ingredients.

And once again, Ginrai proved he could not be left to do anything alone in the kitchen.

He played a short game of eeny, meeny, miny, moe to decide on which bowl was going to the pasta, and which was going to Hawk. Then, feeling satisfied with his decision, he flipped one of the small bowls upside down, dumping the entirety of its contents into the pasta.

No, he had no idea which was salt, and which was the flavoring. He'd instead opted to hope it was salt he’d just added to the pasta.

As the water started to bubble more vigorously, the trucker stood and stared at it, thinking.

Huh. I didn’t know you put that much salt in pasta. Maybe that’s why they say it’s bad for your cholesterol or…something.

“Hey, before you bring the flavoring here, you might want to make sure the pasta fits the pot! It’ll be easier to work with if its been cut down to fit.” Hawk called over again, seeming to still be working on the tomato paste.

Ohh…well, that makes sense. How do I get that out of the pot to cut it, though?

Ginrai tapped his chin in thought, still staring at the murky, white water as it bubbled—viciously, now—and the pasta as it started to bounce and move.

I wonder if—

He reached in to pick up the pasta with his bare hands, then snapped back, hissing in quiet pain.

Obviously, it was hot by this point, and so it had burned him. But what really hurt was when the heat felt like it had seared through his band-aid and touched his cut from earlier.

Was cooking supposed to be this painful?

Calm down, you're just resizing it.

He exhaled slowly and carefully putting the pasta back in the pot so he could contemplate plan B.

Which was…well........those scissors near the knives looked pretty good.

Because maybe, he didn’t even need to take the pasta out of the pot?

Shaking out a hand to get rid of the burning sensation, he reached over with the other to take the scissors, and without a second thought, began to cut the tops of the noodles so they didn’t stick out so much.

“When you’re ready, I need that flavoring!”

Ginrai nodded and dropped the scissors on the counter, grabbing the unused bowl and heading to where Hawk was working.

He didn’t quite notice all the extra pieces of cut pasta had rolled all over the floor, the counter, and…into the grates below the pot. Right next to the fire.

“Here you are,” Ginrai said, grinning, brandishing the bowl and getting ready to pour it in. Hawk looked up to thank him, and was glad he did.

“Oh, that’s the salt, what I need for this should be in the blue one. Though, you can add some salt if we need it.”

Ginrai felt the heat rise to his face.

Oh no.

Hawk tilted his head at him, looking a little concerned.

“Did you put the flavoring in the pasta?”

Meekly, Ginrai nodded. He was sure his face was red by now. But Hawk just smiled.

“That’s alright. Pasta can have flavoring of its own,” he resumed stirring the tomatoes as he continued. “But I’ll need both for this, then. Just add as much of the salt in here as what you put in the pot over there, okay? Hold on, I need something from the fridge.”

It’s…okay. Alright. Ok.

As Hawk put the bowl down and headed for the fridge, Ginrai swallowed, staring at the salt sitting on the counter.

He was no cook, but…he wasn’t sure there should be that much salt added to tomato sauce?

But Hawk is a cook, maybe he has his own reasons. He said same as with the pot.

So, Ginrai lifted the bowl, and turned it upside down, same as before. Then, seeing nothing else to do, he started to mix.

Meanwhile, Hawk returned, but didn’t say anything for a moment as he noticed the empty bowl of salt. For a moment, he stood there, visibly piecing together a couple things.

Then it seemed to hit him all at once as he slowly looked from the bowl to Ginrai, eyes wide.

“Um. When I said 'the same as the pot'…”

“…yes?” Ginrai slowly stopped mixing and put the bowl down. He heard the slight uneasiness in Hawk's voice.

“Exactly...how much did you put in the pot?”

“Er….all of it?” He answered slowly.

“I see…so, I assume…there’s no more of the flavoring?”

“Um...and…no more salt, either,” Ginrai finished his train of thought for him.

"I...see...."

Ginrai touched the back of his head awkwardly, feeling the heat return to his cheeks.

Hawk stared at the bowl again, trying to figure out how to salvage this.

Perhaps if we start over, and I handle the pasta. He could crush up the tomatoes.

“Um, Hawk.”

But first there would have to be—

"Hawk."

Ginrai poked him timidly. Finally, he looked up, then followed his gaze to the other side of the kitchen. And promptly regretted taking those extra seconds of thought.

Oh, Primus, please tell me I’m hallucinating.

The deity seemed to answer through the pasta itself.

From under the grate, there was a violent crackling noise and a pop of light. And just as suddenly, smoke started to rise from the floor, the counter, under the grate.

All the while, the milky-white water in the pot seethed with bubbly rage, beginning to overflow and spill over, jostling the uneven pieces of pasta sticking out with such force that a few fell to the floor.

“It's burning!” Ginrai exclaimed, audibly starting to panic. Hawk blinked at it, somewhat amazed at the spectacle.

Yes, it was. It was definitely burning.

“Is—is it supposed to do that?”

No, it wasn’t.

Without responding, Hawk darted towards the stove and reached out to turn it off, but pulled back sharply with an utterance of pain.

The fire had burned him.

Judging by the pieces of pasta everywhere, he must have…literally cut the pasta off to resize it.

After a second try, he was able to switch the stove's fire off, and the two of them quickly stamped out the little flames started on all the pieces of burning pasta.

Then, Hawk ran over to the pantry to get the oven mitts, so he could get the pot into the sink.

But the smoke hazing their visions wasn’t hanging around for decoration. And Hawk realized that a little too late.

He looked over from the sink to see Ginrai carrying the bowl of tomato paste to the garbage and called to him.

“Um—Ginrai, my hands are full, could you open the window so the smoke doesn’t set off the—”

Before he could finish, the piercing, high-pitched sound of their fire alarm went off, startling Ginrai enough that he dropped the bowl he was holding. With yet another loud noise, the ceramic shattered, and the tomato paste went all over the floor.

But, rather than worry about that, he knew Hawk had been trying to ask him for something.

“The what?!”

“The window! Please!” He repeated, his voice rising.

"Open it?"

"Yes!!!"

The window was opened. And thankfully, the noise stopped after a couple beats.

Quietly, the two watched as smoke drifted out of the kitchen and into the night air. Then, they began to clean in silence.

Hawk began to think.

Pasta had been, in his opinion, the easiest option for a guided intro to cooking next to a literal salad, but at this point, he wasn’t even sure if that salad would have been a good idea.

“Hey, um…"

Ginrai’s tentative tone caused Hawk to stop what he was doing and he turned to see the 19-year-old fiddling with the cleaning rag, standing by the counter.

“I feel like an apology isn’t gonna cut it here, but…I wanted to apologize anyway…” he continued, looking to the floor, ashamed.

He was still wearing the apron with words that created such irony to the whole situation that Hawk couldn’t help but smile a little.

“I’m really, really—”

“It’s alright, Ginrai,” Hawk responded, setting the clumps of rubbery pasta back down in the pot and walking over to him.

He looked quite surprised, so Hawk elaborated. “We’re good at different things, and you tried here tonight. Plus, with practice, you’ll get it right someday.”

He then placed a hand on Ginrai’s arm, and squeezed lightly.

The young commander gave a flustered smile and blushed again.

"Well....at the very least, I'm glad we got to spend some time together, you know?" he murmured, still smiling.

“Absolutely. I’ve got a long night of paperwork ahead of me, which I’m dreading, so this was nice. As chaotic as it was, you know I’m glad for the time we spend like this…not fighting battles with Decepticons, not sitting through conferences for battle plans and upgrades…I’m...really happy right now, Ginrai…”

He hugged Ginrai suddenly, trailing off. And after a moment, Ginrai smiled and hugged him back.

“I’ll ask more questions next time,” he murmured.

“I’ll be clearer as well. I was at fault here, too.”

"No way..."

"I was. So don't be too harsh on yourself for it."

“I love you,” Ginrai whispered finally, squeezing Hawk lightly.

“I love you, too…”

And I’m glad both of us come away with only mild cuts and burns, nothing more.

After a period of silent affection, Hawk drew back gently and gave a slight smirk.

“I’ll always love you,” he repeated, “even if you can’t cook to save your life.”

And they started laughing again.

Standing in a messy kitchen with the window open and wearing aprons that read silly things in English. Hawk, with a small burn on his hand, and Ginrai with bandages on his.

The pair laughed about the whole fiasco.

Sure, they’d go into something like $200 over their “ordering food” spending limit after tonight. If there was nothing left to eat from their cooking attempt, then ordering was their only Plan B.

But…tonight was a night to remember, like many others.

And, Hawk would be going into yet another paperwork session feeling less stressed than before.

For that, he was also glad.

Who knew the good that could be accomplished by, well, setting pasta on fire?

///

#ginhawk #kuniwrites #fanfiction #fanfic #drabble #writing #transformers fanfiction #tf #super god masterforce #transformers super god masterforce #super god masterforce fanfiction #for fun #scenario #Masterforce #masterforce moment òwó 🥺💖✨

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its-madi · 3 years ago

Text

kiss for your thoughts?

Requested by: @suntaek17 -- I’m sorry if this isn’t quite what you wanted !! Beta-Reader: @flansum Tags: mostly fluff, academic struggles, Boyfriend!Golcha TW: mentions of food Length:1.5k, roughly 150 words each

___________________

Daeyeol - classic literature

Literature wasn’t your expertise, but when your boyfriend asked for assistance, you couldn’t say no. He’d been curled up to the same novel — Moby Dick — for at least three weeks.

“It’s just so dry! Why do I need a chapter just telling me the anatomy of the whale’s fins?” he whined, leaning his head back onto the pillow.

You laughed, knowing how you felt similarly while reading it. “If you pretend those chapters don’t exist, it’s really not that bad of a book.”

Daeyeol groaned. “But my essay is due next week, and I’m only halfway through.”

“Or you could look at it as if you’re already halfway through,” you grinned, falling into the empty spot beside him. “Tell you what. For every chapter you finish, I’ll give you three kisses.”

“Only three?” he pouted.

“Four if it’s a long one,” you decided, pressing your lips to his. “And one for good luck.”

Sungyoon - music composition

“I don’t know why you’re asking for my help. Music is your thing,” you muttered, flopping down beside your boyfriend, Sungyoon.

“Music might be. But this program they want us to use? I can’t understand a thing.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, peering at the computer screen in front of him. “And they didn’t go over how to use the program?”

He shook his head. “Professor assumed we had prior knowledge, and I’d used a similar one, so I thought it would be fine, and-”

“Have you tried a YouTube tutorial?”

Sungyoon’s eyes widened. “I didn’t even think of that.”

“You need to sleep more,” you laughed, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. “Let me know when you’re done, and I’ll treat us to supper.”

Jangjun - sound design

You’d never heard Jangjun be so quiet. You knew he’d been working on his final project for class, but you didn’t think it would pull him away from you for a full day.

After sending him a few texts and even knocking on his studio door, you eventually decided to just enter the room. Your boyfriend hunched over his desk, a microphone in one hand, a glass of water in the other. He was pouring it onto a tray, trying to capture the perfect sound effect.

You let out a laugh when he finished his take, causing Jangjun to jump into the air in fright.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you pouted, walking over to him. “I know you said not to bug you, but you haven’t eaten all day.”

Jangjun frowned. “I will. I will.” He looked back at his software. “Can you hold the mic so I can get this recorded?”

“Of course,” you smiled, taking the microphone out of his hands. “You’re working really hard.”

Jangjun grinned and met your lips with a quick kiss before sitting back in front of his desk. “And action.”

Youngtaek - journalism

“I just need you to proofread it,” Youngtaek muttered, shoving his laptop into your arms. The article he’d written was displayed on the screen in front of you. “Just check for typos, and make sure I sound unbiased.”

You nodded, sitting at your desk with his laptop. You read through the piece, trying to ignore his anxious breathing behind you. Like usual, you could picture his expression without seeing it: puppy-dog eyes as he waited for your opinion — one he always said he cherished. “Youngtaek, please. I can’t read it if you’re distracting me.”

“I’m sorry, this is just,” he sighed, “it’s worth like 40 percent of my grade.”

“And so far, it’s great,” you smiled, standing up once again. “Now, just give me some time to read, and we’ll get it sent in tonight, okay?”

He nodded. “Thank you. I love you.” He kissed you quickly, bouncing out of the room to let you edit in peace.

“I love you too,” you called after him, falling back into your chair.

Seungmin - philosophy

“I can’t wrap my head around what you’re trying to study,” you mumbled, wrapping your arms tight around your boyfriend’s torso. Seungmin had a midterm at the end of the week, and the poor boy had already spent the entire weekend cram studying. You didn’t understand how you could even test the subject.

“We’re studying like, whether humans have free will or not, and the midterm is essays based on the material we read, but I have a professor that grades based on his opinions,” Seungmin sighed.

“That’s the worst.”

“Mhm. But I need the credits, so I have to do well. I just can’t bring myself to disagree with my own thoughts.”

“Then don’t. And if he grades you badly because of it, we’ll write a complaint. I’ll back you up on this,” you stated, confident in your ability to write a professional letter of complaint.

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course, I would.” You pressed a kiss to Seungmin’s cheek. “But I bet you’ll ace this midterm anyway.”

Jaehyun - calculus

“And you think I would be any better at this?” you asked, laughing at Jaehyun. “I haven’t done math in years. Not this complicated anyway.”

“No, I just thought you could at least give me some moral support,” he chuckled, biting on the end of his pencil.

You sighed, pushing the pencil away from his mouth, replacing it with your lips instead. Jaehyun, immediately flustered, pulled his attention away and looked back at his work.

“You’ve got an answer key. You can always try a question again if you get it wrong.”

“But that will take ages, and I-”

“I’ll kiss you for every question you get right.”

Jaehyun swallowed, meeting your eyes once again. “Okay.”

Jibeom - poetry analysis

“So because the curtains are blue, that means the whole poem is sad?” Jibeom questioned, looking at you for confirmation.

You shook your head quickly. “The curtains being blue can reflect the tone in the poem, but it could also just be because the narrator likes the colour blue.” You leaned against the kitchen counter, watching him squint as he read over the poem again. “What’s it about?” You prodded.

“Well, that’s the thing. I can’t really tell.”

“Is it an older poem?”

“Yeah,” he sighed.

You nodded, knowing that sometimes older language wasn’t as clear. “I mean, a poem is fully up to interpretation. That’s the beauty of it; everyone can pull out something different.”

“But what if it’s wrong?” Jibeom looked up at you, worry stricken across his face.

You leaned over the counter and pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose. “There are no wrong answers.”

Donghyun - art fundamentals

“What’s wrong with it?” Donghyun whined, staring at the portrait in front of him.

“What do you mean?” you glanced at the piece with him, a sticky note marked with a B+ on the top right corner. “Donghyun, that isn’t bad at all.”

“But they can’t just give me a B+ and not tell me what I need to improve on.”

You laughed a little but nodded in agreement. “It can be a little annoying, yeah. Did you try making an appointment with the professor? I’m sure they’d be willing to talk to you about it.”

“I-” Donghyun was unable to come up with any excuses. “No, I haven’t.”

You laughed and kissed his cheek. “Why don’t we do that first, then?”

Joochan - scriptwriting

“How do you make dialogue flow naturally?” Joochan spoke into the silent room.

You glanced up from your desk, where you were working on your own assignments. “Well, you have to make it seem believable. The lines have to suit your characters and have to fit their personalities.”

Joochan hummed, looking back at the half-finished script in front of him. “Would you read one of the characters for me?”

“A cold read? Harsh,” you teased but stood so you could see the lines.

“I appreciate you; I think this will help a lot,” he grinned, handing you the script. “Your character is the villain, but you are falling madly in love with me, the hero.”

“Too late for that,” you teased, kissing him quickly before reading your first line.

Bomin - directing

“I guess I’m just not good with people or something. I don’t know,” Bomin groaned.

“Rehearsal didn’t go well?” you asked, sitting on the couch beside your boyfriend. You took his hand in your own, interlacing your fingers.

“Isn’t the class supposed to teach me about how to direct? Not just throw me in empty-handed?”

“I’d bet it’s hard to teach without the experience. You can only learn so much from a textbook,” you smiled at him. “Did you get a stage manager yet?”

He shook his head. “Professor is still looking for people to help out.”

“Well, that’s step one — your job becomes a lot easier when you have someone to help you out.”

“I just don’t get why they can’t follow simple stage directions. Is it that difficult?”

“You’ve got experience on the stage, Bomin. Not everyone in your show does. You need to be patient, and you need to trust the process. It doesn’t come together in the first couple rehearsals. And on stage is a lot different than on screen.”

He nodded. “You’re right. I’m being harsh.”

You shrugged, bringing his hand up to your lips and kissing his knuckles gently. “You’ll get there.”

©its-madi 2021

#~requested~#~madi's journal~#golden child #gncd #golcha

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shoyomp3 · 4 years ago

Text

comforting u when ur stressed<3

genre🍓: fluff, slight angst

pairing🍓: nishinoya x gn!reader, tanaka x gn!reader, sugawara x gn!reader, hinata x gn!reader

warnings🍓: reader not taking care of themselves, reader getting angry and yelling 😀🥴, terrible writing and ✨typos✨

word count🍓: 1.8k

desc🍓: you’ve been stressed because of school and you haven’t been taking care of yourself. your boyfriend has noticed and tries to make you feel better

author note🍓: lol fuck school 🤯🥴 also send requests if you want but just an fyi i’m not that familiar with most characters and it’s gonna be harder to write for them but i’m fine with everyone from karasuno 😭😭

nishinoya yuu (401 words)

you guys used to go on dates every week and would hang out almost everyday but lately all you’ve been doing is studying. you had a few tests coming up and a few missing assignments. it was almost the end of the year which meant that everything was due.

you stayed up all night to study and work. you devoted all your time outside of school to your books. you barely ate, barely slept and barely had any human contact.

when you walked into class you looked exhausted. you looked weak. you didnt look like yourself. everyone noticed this especially noya. he tried to talk to you and get you to relax but you would just walk away from him and review things.

he came over to your house one night, wanting you to stop and eat a meal and sleep. he walked up the stairs to your room, knocking softly on your door.

“y/n? can i come in?” he spoke quietly in case you accidentally fell asleep.

“...yeah...” your voice sounded so drained. he slowly opened your door, stopping when he saw you hunched over your desk, books and papers everywhere. his heart shattered. he walked over to you, softly turning your head to look at him. his eyes scanned over your face, noticing the dark circles, the tear stains, the tired look in your eyes. it hurt him to see you like this. all he wanted to do was hold you and let you know it was okay, that the tests didn’t matter, that you could relax.

he pulled you into his arms, squeezing lightly. “do you wanna take a break?” he pulled away and looked into your eyes.

“i can’t, i’m sorry.” you slid out of his grip and turned back to your work only to be pulled away. you were being dragged to your bed.

“noya? what are you doing?” you asked confused.

“i’m making you relax and you will not fight back. you can’t treat your body like this. i know you want to do well in school but you need to take breaks sometimes”

he threw you onto your bed and collapsed on top of you. you two stayed like that for awhile until he started giving you small kisses all over your face.

“do you want something to eat? i can order whatever you want”

“nothing right now. i just wanna stay with you”

tanaka ryunosuke (420 words)

he waited at the restaurant for an hour. you never said you were gonna be late. you never texted or called him. he got tired of waiting and tired of the embarrassment so he got up and left.

he went to your place wanting an explanation. he knocked on your door a couple times without a response. he called your name. no response. eventually, he got out his spare key, letting himself in.

the place was in total darkness except for a small amount of light coming from your room. he opened the door slightly, wanting to know what was happening. he saw you at your desk crying. there was paper all around you. on the floor, on the desk, everywhere. some of it was scribbled over, some torn to pieces. it was a mess. he took small steps in your direction not wanting to make his presence known just yet. he lifted his hand and tapped your shoulder.

“y/n...are you okay?”

you quickly wiped your face, turning around and forcing a smile.

“i’m fine! what are you doing here?”

he looked at you with a disappointed expression. you forgot about the date. he looked into your eyes and saw how bloodshot they were. he saw how much pain you were in. your smile started to falter.

“we had a date. you didn’t show up so i got worried and came over.” he crouched down next to you “are you sure you’re okay?”

your breath got caught in your throat. you knew he’d be able to see through your lie. so why would you try and do it?

“i’m fine. nothings wrong. i’ve just been a little behind on school and we have tests coming up. i’m sorry i missed our date.”

he looked at you for a few seconds before pulling you into him. he rubbed your back and rested his chin on your shoulder.

“please...tell me the truth” his voice was calm.

and that’s when you broke down. you started sobbing into his shoulder. crying about how the stress of school has been too much for you. about how you were scared to fail or not get things in. how you couldn’t handle it anymore. he let you cry for a while before pulling back. he brought his hands out to your face and wiped your tears. he gave you a soft smile.

“everything’s gonna be okay. i promise. lets just take a little break so you can calm down. if you need any help i’ll be here”

sugawara koshi (463 words)

you kept canceling things with him. every time you two made plans, you canceled last minute coming up with a stupid excuse. he put up with it for awhile but it started to hurt. he got scared. were you cheating on him?

you canceled on him again. he kept calling you but you would never answer. he got tired of it and decided to see what you were doing.

he rushed over to your place, saying hi to your mom as he ran to your room. he swung your door open, startling you.

“s-suga? why are you here? i thought i told you i couldn’t make it...”

“you’ve canceled every date we’ve had for the past three weeks and i’m kinda tired of it. i want to spend time with you but you keep blowing me off. i thought you were cheating so i came over to see if you were or not”

you looked at your fingers, playing with them. you didn’t know what to say. you felt bad for canceling but you felt hurt because he thought you would cheat on him.

there was an awkward silence but it was ended by soft footsteps coming close to you. you felt a hand on your chin forcing you to look up.

“why have you been canceling our dates?”

you stayed silent. you didn’t want him to know how you haven’t been eating that much or sleeping. how many breakdowns you’ve had. you didn’t want him to worry.

“i...i don’t know”

he let go of your chin, letting out a deep sigh. he knew you were lying.

“y/n please tell me. i won’t be mad. i just want the truth”

you kept saying that was the truth and he kept saying it wasn’t. it went on like this for about 30 minutes before you cracked. you started sobbing and telling him what’s been happening. you told him that you didn’t wanna be seen as stupid because you kept failing quizzes and tests. you didn’t want to embarrass him. he pulled you off your desk chair and into his lap. he wrapped his arms around you, softly squeezing. he rubbed his hand down your back trying to calm you down.

“you’re perfect for me. you could never embarrass me okay? you’re not stupid, you’re not an idiot, you’re perfect. please tell me these things next time. i’m here for you. i’ll help you. you’re not alone.” he gave you a kiss on the forehead.

he pushed you off his lap and stood up, grabbing your hands and pulling you up with him.

“we’re gonna go get something to eat and then we’re gonna come back here so you can sleep. you need to stay healthy and strong. i don’t want anything happening to you.”

hinata shoyo (600 words)

you two were always hanging out. there was barely any time you spent apart. you loved being around him and he loved being around you but recently, you’ve been...distant. its not that you don’t love him or that you’re getting annoyed by him, you’ve just had a lot of schoolwork to do.

shoyo didn’t notice you not hanging out at first but eventually he noticed you spending less and less time with him. it hurt him. it made him feel like you didn’t want to be with him anymore.

he started to not answer your calls when you would call him (which was rarely!!). it hurt him to do it but if you wanted your space he would give it to you. he got tired of this tho. he missed you and missed being around you.

he got your favorite candy and favorite flowers. he made his way to your place, knocking on your door and greeting your mom. he went straight to your room, bursting in like the ball of mf sunshine he is.

you have been extremely stressed out and irritable lately. school hasn’t been the best for you. you fell behind in most of your classes and the work got harder. it took you longer to finish things which is why some of them were marked as missing. you’ve been trying to make it all up but it’s been a lot for you. so when shoyo came in all happy it annoyed you. you weren’t in a good enough mood to deal with him so you snapped when he tried to talk to you. you screamed at him and said some things you didn’t mean. things that hurt both of you. but you couldn’t stop. he started arguing back and then you told him to leave. you didn’t think he’d actually do it and you definitely didn’t think he’s be gone for this long.

you admit what you did was wrong but you couldn’t help it. that was the last straw. you felt bad but how could you apologize? whenever you saw eachother in the hallways he would always walk the opposite way even if he had to go in your direction. even if you were able to catch up with him he would ignore you and pretend like you didn’t exist. he wouldn’t answer your calls or texts. you didn’t know what to do.

you waited outside the gym until practice was over, hoping to catch him on the way out. after a long time it finally ended. you watch everyone walk out. everyone except for shoyo. you went up to daichi to ask where he was.

“oh hey y/n. he went home sick. did you not know...?”

you thanked him for telling you and ran towards his house. you knocked on the door, waiting for it to open. after a few minutes it opened to your boyfriend. his usual smile not on his face.

“why are you here. are you gonna yell at me for ‘bothering you’ and ‘being too clingy’ again?”

his words stabbed you like knives but you understood where it was coming from.

“i-i came to apologize.” you started crying “i was really stressed and everything was bothering me and i know that doesnt excuse it and i know you probably won’t forgi-” you were cut off by him hugging you.

“remember to breathe.” he held you closely, making sure you were actually there. the past few days were hard for him but he didn’t want to upset you again. you two made up and ended the night in cuddles and movies.

anyways that sucked 😀

tags (dm or send and ask to be added): @yourdaddychan @noyatonic @sunacor3 @yanjeongs @lov3ric @hotelhaikyuu @satosimp

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prettybiching · 4 years ago

Note

jon ossoff + celebratory sex after he's sworn in?

Home To You

Pairing: Jon Ossoff x Senator!fem!reader

Read Part One HERE

Warning: 18+ mature scenes, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, swallowing cum, slight rough sex, angst, mentions of death, insurrection and angry mob. Let Me know if I missed something!

Word Count: 4,325 words

Note: There’s probably so many typos in this because I wrote this on a shitty laptop, sorry about that. Hope you guys enjoy teehee xoxo.

It's strange how quickly life moves. One moment you were in bed, with a man you were head over heels infatuated with, tucked in safely beneath his arms and the next, you were running for your life, ducking behind pillars, holding onto your breathe inside the United States Capitol.

Jon had almost begged to take an earlier flight out to DC to be there with you as you tried to process the horrors of the day you had experienced. You, however, insisted he stayed back and continue with his original schedule.

Yes, you did want him beside you during these difficult times. When you'd wake up in the middle of the night in cold sweat because your mind had replayed the events of the insurrection, the gunshot you'd heard, a narrow miss from the mob, all the moments that would be embedded in you forever. You wanted nothing more than to be in his arms, safe and secure, far away from the horrors of what you had experienced. You craved to tell him just about everything you had come to realise while in your moment of terror.

You knew Jon would not hesitate to fly down to DC for you, but you knew you couldn't be selfish, not when the country's government was already in a fragile state, divided to its core. Jon already had a storm waiting for him when he'd take office, and you weren't about to give the Republicans any more ammunition. You weren't going to allow Jon to suffer as you had done when you came into office.

The two of you remained in close contact throughout Jon's transition period, mostly because the insurrection had invoked a new burning flame for the both of you.

Jon had grown worried sick, knowing that you were inside the building, knowing that the violent mob wanted to kill you and they wouldn't hesitate if they spotted you. Every time the media reported an injury, a gunshot, he held onto his breath, praying it wasn't you. Unlike other lawmakers who were able to stay in contact with their families throughout the lockdown, your phone had died, merely minutes after you texted Jon and your family.

In case I don't make it, I need you to know you've meant the world to me.

You hadn't told him, so as not to encourage his bid to fly out to you but you'd thought about Jon, for so long when a Capitol police officer escorted you and Senator Booker to the safety bunker. When your brain had finally received enough oxygen to think, your mind could only form images of the moments you had spent with Jon.

Never in a million years had you expected to be so infatuated with him when you flew down to Georgia for the runoff elections. You'd told yourself not to bat an eye every time he smiled at you, made a charming comment or made you laugh. However, he had a way of making everyone fall in love with him. You were no exception.

Your heart clenched at the thought of never seeing him ever again. What if you died before telling him just how much he meant to you? You had to, at the least, tell him how proud you were of him and how bright the future ahead of him was.

Life seemed so vulnerable at that moment. You wished you had hugged Jon a little longer, memorised his face a little closer, savoured the taste of his lips a bit more. You shouldn't have taken so long to act on your feelings. If you were to die today, the only memory you'd have would be of the night before.

Jon, he was all you could think about, his name calming your frantic heart just a little. God, you wanted to hear his voice, you wanted to hear him say your name, reassure you that you'd meet him once again that you'd get to love him just a little longer.

As much as you wanted to spill your heart out to him, you knew you couldn't and would never do it over the phone. You needed him to be in front of you, free to feel and touch when you told him just how much you loved him.

When Jon arrived in DC, the night before his swearing-in and the inauguration of Joe Biden, he knew it would be impossible for the two of you to meet as you both had crucial tasks at hand. You two would see one another in the Capitol on the morning of the inauguration.

You felt jittery as you walked down the halls of the Capitol once again. The sound of your heels hitting the tiles echoed throughout the empty floor, your eyes were focused on the plaques hanging on the walls, carefully scanning them to find the name you were searching for. A proud smile tugged onto your lips as you spotted the shiny new golden plaque hanging by the mahogany door.

Your heart began to hammer against your ribcage as you racked your knuckles against the hardwood door. When the door was opened, you were met with Jon's astonished face, his brows at first knitting together in confusion before his eyes grew wide, his mouth hanging wide open.

You are unable to get a word out before he's pulling you into a bone-crushing hug, his hands wrapped tightly around your waist as if scared that you'd fade away from existence. A giggle escapes your lips as sink into his embrace. You couldn't help but nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, taking in the scent of his aftershave, enjoying the feeling of the short curly strands above his neck and the way he held onto you.

You swore you could've cried then and there.

"Jon?" you called out after a few moments, your voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. He hums, making not attempt of pulling away. "I think we should move."

You don't mean to laugh, but you do as he makes a noise of protest, only to tighten his arms around you, swaying your conjoined bodies sideways. You don't want to let go either, but there are so many other things you wanted to be doing with him as well. Not to forget his limited number of staffers were also inside his office, undoubtedly staring at the two of you in bewilderment.

"Okay..." you lift your head from his neck, tapping your hands on his back to make him move as well. "Jon?" you poked, the movements of your hands getting more frantic. "Jon, Jon, Jon, Jon, Jon, Jonnnnnnn----"

"Okay, okay, I'm pulling away," he finally lets go of your waist, the action instantly filling you with coldness from the removal of his body heat. He feigns annoyance towards you, and you can't help but giggle. You'd missed his silly antics, but more importantly, you'd missed him.

You don't waste another second, grasping onto his freshly pressed baby blue shirt and pulling him down into a tender kiss. He's quick to respond, his hands finding their way to your cheeks, holding you in place as he moved his lips against you with fervour. You could feel the desperation in his movements. What had started as an innocent longing kiss was turning into a heated reminder of the two of you had been missing.

You part your lips for a second, long enough for him to push his tongue into your mouth, eliciting a moan from you.

As if a bell had rung in your head, you instantly pull away, your cheeks feeling as if they were on fire, your eyes blown as you attempted to catch your breath.

"Did-did I do something wrong?" he tilts his head in confusion, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip. He's looking at you with those puppy eyes that you'd come to adore and you swear you're about to faint.

"No!" you're quick to retort, extending both of your hands in front of you, shaking your head frantically. "We just--your staff is right there," you point inside the office where his young staffers pretended as if they weren't there.

"Oh," is all he says, rubbing the back of his neck in realisation, his head hanging low, his cheeks flushing bright red. "Right."

Your lips split into a toothy grin, enjoying his flustered state. You want to continue this, but you know the two of you don't have much time. You would be required on the Capitol Hill balcony for the inauguration, and there you would have to act as if you aren't head over heels in love with Senator-elect of Georgia.

"What? You're not going to introduce me to your team?" you tease, poking his side. When he finally looks up, he's still blushing deep red, and the sight makes your heart flutter just a little more, to see the effect you have on him.

"Right, come on in."

You greeted the young staffers, some only a few years younger than you with a smile on your face, hoping to encourage them in their new venture. These people would help shape policies and pieces of legislation that would go on to shape the future of your nation.

They took notice of the thick atmosphere, having witnessed you and Jon cross the boundary of being just colleagues. They were quick to move out of your way, leaving you both alone in his office.

Wordlessly, you strolled through the room, running a hand along with his desk, taking in your surrounding. His office was structured almost identical to yours and the only thing making it seem different was the interior. "Nice office you got here," you smirked, tilting your head towards Jon who watched you with his hands stuffed inside his pockets.

"Thanks, I got it with the job," he laughed, taking a seat behind the desk. His suit jacket was left hanging on the coat stand by the door, and your eyes caught the navy blue patterned tie he was wearing.

You strut towards him, towering over his figure and instinctively his hands reached forward to thread his fingers onto yours. "I like your tie."

"What can I say? My girlfriend has good taste," he shrugs, pretending as if his words didn't just ignite a fire in you.

"Since when did I become your girlfriend?" you laugh, a stark contrast to the frantic beating of your heart. He squeezed your hands, and you liked how easily his palm fitted against yours.

"W-would you like to be?" you have to bit your bottom lip to keep yourself from smiling, he looked at you with those big puppy eyes, a hint of nervousness underlying beneath.

Untangling your hands, you lowered yourself onto his lap, careful not to crease your pantsuit and overcoat too much. His hands settled on your hips, holding you in place. You lean forward until both of your foreheads are touching, his warm breath fanning over your face, your eyes fluttering shut.'

"It's going to be very complicated," you murmured after a few seconds, your eyes still closed.

"I'm willing to work for it."

You have no doubt about that. You'd walk through hell and back to experience your future with him, just like envisioned it during the insurrection. However, things weren't as straightforward.

"It could sabotage both of our careers," you retorted, lifting your head just slightly to meet his eyes. His eyes were looking at you with such delicacy, you didn't want to talk--talk about the consequences of your actions but just kiss him and keep kissing him until the world around you both disappeared.

"It won't," he answered firmly, squeezing your hips, your hands caressed his jawline, brows knitting together. "We will be okay. We can make it work--"

"We can't be selfish, Jon," you said, no matter how painful it was to say it. "We have a duty to our people, and if we do this we'll have to hide our relationship from the world, we would have to lie---"

"Do you want this?" He cut off your rambling with a simple question that had the gears in your mind turning.

You did, of course, you did. You wanted nothing more than to be with Jon. He was all you could think about when you thought you were going to die, when you heard those gunshots and when you were stuck in that bunker with all those Republicans.

"Yes, yes I do," you answered firmly.

"Then let's just do this, for us. Forget about everyone else for now. It's only you and me. Okay?"

"Okay."

Then he's smiling at you in a way he had never done before, so bright, he could blind the sun itself, and it makes you giggle. You liked seeing him in this way, so unlike the public political demeanour, he carried with himself all the time. This Jon was reserved only for you.

He leans forward, closing the short gap between the two of you, pulling you into a kiss.

That spell is broken when your phone begins to ring in the pocket of your coat, making you pull away from him, both of you breathless and panting.

"Yeah, okay, I'll be out in a second."

"It's time to go," you tell Jon, helping yourself out of his lap before he pushes himself off his chair.

The two of you don't have time to utter another word as Beverly is waiting outside the door with two security agents. You're about to go your way when Jon calls out your name, making you turn towards him.

"I never got to tell you just how gorgeous you look today."

With that, he turns away, leaving you in a puddle.

You enter the balcony first, with Beverly right behind you. Ignoring the cameras panning on you, you scan the area for some of your more favourable colleagues. You meet the eyes of Elizabeth Warren who beckons you towards her and just as you're about to move, you feel a hand slip into yours.

You knew just who it was by the way his hands fit into yours, his touch so familiar.

Your head snaps to the side, staring at Jon in bewilderment. Did he really just out the both of you in front of everyone. He's not even sworn in yet, and he's already gone crazy, you think.

"What the fuck?"

Jon dares to wink at you, walking alongside you with a smugness that you had come to familiarise yourself with over the past few months. "How can I not tell the world that I'm lucky enough to be with you?"

If it were any other time, you would've found yourself flustered at his comment, but now, you could only roll your eyes. He could really be one cocky motherfucker when he wants to be.

He takes note of your tensed shoulders and squeezes your hand, reassuring you. "Just relax. It's only you and me, remember?"

Sucking in a deep breath, you nod in agreement. At least there is one less thing to worry about now.

-----

With your relationship now out in the open, there was no reason for you miss his swearing-in ceremony. You joined your dear friend and colleague, Cory Booker as he escorted Jon into the Senate Chamber with Reverend Raphael Warnock and Alex Padilla beside him.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me about Ossoff, Y/L/N," Cory said in disbelief. "I mean yeah, you two looked adorable during his campaign, but damn, I thought we were friends."

You roll your eyes, knowing he was going to bring it up every chance he got from now on. "It kind of just happened."

"Hmm. You're still not forgiven."

You're by the gallery with the two other spouses, a proud beaming smile on your lips---hidden by the mask. You have to stop the joyful tears from spilling, but you're just so goddamn happy as he's called in by Vice President Harris.

He catches your eye as he's walking towards the podium, sending a wink at your way, making you erupt into giggles. He knew you were a blubbering mess underneath and he was going to make the most out of your reaction later on.

You have to stop yourself from jumping on your feet when he's done taking his oath, and Kamala Harris congratulating him.

You run down from the gallery as fast as your heels allow you to move and you leap into Jon, him catching you in his arms with ease. He's laughing against you, his laugh resonating through his chest.

You pull back slightly, bringing your mouth near his ear and in a low, sultry tone you whisper, "Congratulations, Senator."

His grip around your waist tightens, squeezing your side as if warning you to behave. Ignoring him, you pull down your mask to plant a kiss on his cheek.

"Just wait till I get you alone."

Oh, but you can't wait.

-------

Despite Jon telling you to be on your best behaviour, he's the first one to break. As soon as the two of you are out of the public eye, his hands are all over you, his mouth trailing sloppy kisses onto your neck, attempting to push down the fabric of your crisp white shirt beneath.

"Have I told you just how sexy you look when you're acting all bossy and shit?" he murmurs between kisses, a slight moan escaping your lips. Your fingers tangle themselves into his hair, ruffling his styled locks back to its original form, just the way you liked them.

"Mhmm," your eyes are fluttered shit, your body supported only by Jon's hold on you. If he were to remove his arms, you'd drop down onto the floor in no time.

"You better get used to it," you manage to word out, overwhelmed by the feeling of his lips all over you. He moves his mouth from your neck, up your throat, feeling your pulse against his lips. You notice as he places on longing kiss over that spot.

"I can't wait."

The two of you were in the lobby of your apartment complex, your humble abode just a few doors away. If anyone was to walk out of one of those doors, the sight greeting them would be anything but appropriate. You knew the right thing to do would be to pull away from Jon and wait until both of you are inside before continuing with your rendezvous.

But he is insatiable, the spell he has you under in unbreakable, and the last thing you want is to be away from his touch, not when you'd thought you could never experience it again.

Your mind is foggy, his mouth still exploring every inch of your skin he's able to find when you're trying to unlock the door to your apartment. "God fucking damn it," you mutter in frustrating, making Jon chuckle against your skin.

As soon as you get the door open, presses you against the door, your head hitting the doorframe with a soft thud. His head falls back to your neck, planting sloppy wet kisses, between small bites. Meanwhile, your hands grip onto his suit jacket, attempting to pull it off of him.

"Take it off," you order as he kisses his way up your neck.

He detaches himself for a second, following your command. You take the time to rid yourself of your overcoat, throwing it across the room.

When the two of you meet once again, he finds your lips, pushing his tongue in your mouth, groaning your name. When he pulls back for air, your lipstick is smudged, staining his mouth and both of your lips swollen. His eyes are darkened with lust, the view giving you an idea.

In a fluid motion, you drop down onto your knees, your eyes landing on his hardened bulge restrained by his pants.

You bit your lips, your mouth water and you look up at him with big doe eyes. "You deserve a congratulatory gift."

His hands find themselves into your hair, gripping onto your locks enough to guide your movements. "I'm all yours, sweetheart."

With that, your hands dart to the zipper, undoing it in one swift motion, pulling his pants down along with his boxers.

Your hands wrap themselves around his shaft, you dip your head down, licking off his precum with kitten licks while looking at him through hooded eyes.

He lets out a groan, throwing his head back the moment your tongue met his tip, sending a shiver down his spine. "God...you know just how to work your mouth don't you?"

He reaches his hands forward to cup your jaw as you wrap your lips around his head, his thumb caressing your cheeks while you sucked swirled your tongue around his shaft.

Your mouth left his cock, your hands still pumping and twisting him, keeping him in a state of euphoria while you turned your head to the side, kissing the palm of his hand.

"Did you miss me, did you think about my hands wrapped around your cock like this?" he moaned at your words, watching you intensely, his lustful eyes worshipping you as you licked up his pointer and index finger before sliding them into your mouth. You sucked on his fingers, tongue licking the pads of his fingertips before swallowing his digits until your lips grazed his knuckles.

Jon watched intently, his fingers going in and out between your lips and glistening with your saliva. He could feel the blood rushing downwards, making his cock twitch as if he wasn't already aroused.

You felt him shift against you, making you smirk. You let go of his fingers with a sloppy pop and dive your mouth back onto his swollen length. You sucked and slurped around his girth with quick bobs of your head, hand stroking and twisting the rest, matching the rhythm.

"Fuck...don't stop," he groans, the grip of his hands on your hair tightening, giving you light pushes down onto his cock.

You moaned, swallowing him deeper with each push, letting his tip kiss the back of your throat repeatedly, going in deeper and deeper until your gag reflex kicked in and pushed him out.

With your hand still rubbing and squeezing him up and down, you take a deep breath when you have the chance, gulping and swallowing the mixture of your drool and his salty precum all the while staring at him with large innocent eyes. He lets out a growl at the sight of your swollen lips.

Lewd sounds filled the room as you squeeze and jerk his wet length tighter with each pump. He bucked his hips towards your face, you could feel his muscles tense up as he was getting closer to his release. His hand held you in place while he fucked you into his mouth with erratic thrusts.

He lets out a groan before hissing at the feel of your mouth, "Open up for me, sweetheart---oh, fuck."

Pulling out a couple seconds before he cums, he pumps himself his tip on your tongue, his body shivering and twitching slightly as he shot his load into your mouth.

His chest heaved as he watched you stand back on your heels while playing with cum on your tongue and lips.

"God, you're just perfect, aren't you?" he lets out a breath, staring at you with adoration.

Swallowing everything in your mouth, you smirk, leaning forward to wrap your arms around his neck, planting a chaste kiss on his Adam's apple.

"Fuck me, Ossoff."

He doesn't need another word before he lifts you from the ground, carrying you to your bedroom and almost throwing you onto the bed.

He kneels in front of you as you unbutton your pants and he pulls them down, leaving you only in your white shirt. He parts your legs open, finding your soaking wet panties. In a swift motion, he rips them of you, making you gasp.

He slides his fingers over your clit a few times, spreading the wetness before he lays above you before holding his growing erection near your entrance. Without a warning, he shoves himself in, feeling your warm and wet walls clenching around him immediately. Your fingernails dig into the fabric of his shirt as he entered you.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you're so tight..."

He doesn't give you much time to adjust, ramming his cock deep into you while holding you down on the mattress at your shoulders. With each quick, rhythmic thrust, a loud moan escapes your mouth.

"You like this, huh? you like the feeling of me deep inside of you?"

"Yesss, oh my god, yes," you whimper, your pelvic muscles tightening, making him groan animalistically.

"Turn around on all fours."

You turned around, crawling on all fours. Jon plunged back into you from behind, grabbing your hips against him, hitting your cervix. You keep on chanting his name in gasps. Meanwhile, his eyes never looked away from where the two of you met. The noise of your moans, the clapping of flesh and wet folds filled the silence.

He pounds into you, his movements sloppy as you feel his cock pulsate. The two of you are moaning loudly, your breaths coming out ragged and the coil tightened in your stomach, ready to snap any time.

'Fuck--Jon. I'm-I'm gonna cum," you cried out in pleasure.

Jon began playing with your clit, rubbing quick circles and that additional action along with his rough thrusts was enough for you to reach your climax. You screamed into the mattress tightening around his cock, while he still pushed in and out of you, only to spill himself inside you a few moments later.

A few hours later when the two of you are tangled between the bedsheets, free of any clothing, you trace patterns onto his cheeks, a warm smile tugged on your lips as he watched you with endearing eyes.

"What's that smile for?"

You shook your head, your grin growing wider. "I'm just happy to be home to you."

#jon ossoff fic #jon ossoff #jon ossoff x reader #jon ossoff smut #smut #jon ossoff fanfiction #jonossoff

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chrisevansgoodgirl · 4 years ago

Text

red, white, blues in the skies, summer's in the air and baby, heaven's in your eyes

summary: Can you write a daddy kink and spanking fic with Steve? Hes all about it at first but then all hell breaks lose🥵🥵 You know you said somewhere that Steve's so respectful when fucking you and so THOROUGH. Thank you😘😘 --requested by @donutloverxo

i just want to take a moment to thank you so much for messaging me a while back when my friend moved to california. it was a sad night for me but your messages honestly made me feel better. even the ransom one, which i still need more details on. is he okay? i feel like he would cry. anyway, hope you like this!

warnings: everything. anal. choking. spanking. biting, mentions of blood maybe. don’t judge me. hair pulling. breath play. major daddy shit, you know, the usual.

pairing: steve rogers x reader

a/n: so sorry for any typos! i am about to be late for a tattoo appointment! and for that reason, I know i missed some of the people who asked me to tag them in my chris evans fics so i apoloize! so if i did pls message me and i promise i will add you to my tag list in my phone asap!

The question of how you got here—bent over Steve’s thighs, your ass propped up, stripped naked—could have been given many, varying answers, depended on who you asked. Steve would claim it was attitude, sheer disrespect. You would credit it to him not paying enough attention to you. Why you got here, that only had one answer. Because you wanted to be here.

It started last night. You were out with Steve, Sam, Bucky, Wanda, and Okoye. Okoye and Bucky were, when drunk, very simply, philosophical hippies. They wanted to talk about the universe and how we were all destroying the planet and each other. Sam just got plain annoying and needed to annoy Wanda. It was the weirdest thing, he just needed to get on her nerves. He would get competitive about who was drinking more, he would challenge her to anything. Darts, once, a race back to the compound another. That ended terribly, but neither seemed capable of recalling that past a certain level of alcohol intake.

That left Steve, this authoritative presence—always able to get you wet, but when you were drinking, your friends were surrounding you, acting like children, and he was just there, you were hopeless. He was strong and always so sure of himself, that was what you loved most about him.

Everyone was scattered around the bar. You had disappeared for the restroom and once you got out, Wanda and Sam wrangled you into a conversation about who was a better lead on missions.

Steve was at the table, his phone in sight because he was Captain fucking America. He was the most important man in existence and he always needed to be available for his country, or the world, more accurately. That used to be an issue, before Thanos, before they fixed everything. That used to strain your relationship, never knowing when he was going to be called away. It was rare now, so rare, but his habits were tough to break. He had a beer bottle in his hands, sipping here and there, but mostly, he was watching you. Only you. He came out to be a babysitter, but it was barely a job he took seriously.

He just wanted to be with you.

You made your way to him after it seemed Wanda and Sam had forgotten you were there at all. He set his beer down on the table and took your hips. It was a move of pure control, you couldn’t get away from him, but you also couldn’t get closer to him. “What do you say? Should we call it a night?”

“It’s been an hour,” he pointed out.

“I want you to fuck me.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “That’s why you haven’t been drinking much.”

“I missed you, daddy.” Daddy? It was a key to the lock that sometimes was Steve Rogers. Was there anything you couldn’t get him to do while you were calling him daddy?

“How much?”

You scoffed. “What?”

“How much did you miss me?”

“What kind of question is that? I miss you a lot when you’re gone. I ache until you’re back home, falling asleep with me, waking up with me. I understand that you’re a Cancer but you’re being so extra right now.”

“No, I’m just being curious.”

“Do you need me to show you how much I missed you?”

“What if I do?”

“Then I will do anything you ask,” you guaranteed, “I would get on my knees right now, daddy. I would let everyone watch me choke on your cock, let them all watch you fuck my face.”

He nodded once. “I don’t think such a grand display is necessary. Especially given that I could just watch you fucking a toy last night, despite my clear instructions that you were not allowed to.”

Your face flushed. “You…were watching me?”

So, it had been a mutual decision to set up a camera in the bedroom. When he was gone and he could call, it just made phone sex easier. When he came home, that sex was always something else. You liked watching it from time to time. However, he was not supposed to be using it to make sure you weren’t breaking rules! That wasn’t fair, that was a major invasion of privacy.

“Yes, I was watching. I missed my baby girl, wanted to see her beautiful face, her stunning fucking body.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Were you going to lie to me?” he questioned. “If I came home and asked you if you had listened to me, what would you have said?”

You glared. “I guess we’ll never know.” You turned on your heels to return to Sam and Wanda, but he grabbed your arm and yanked you back to him.

“Daddy didn’t tell you that you could walk away.”

“Steve,” you warned.

He scoffed. “So, you messed up and now you’re going to be a brat with me?”

“We’re not doing this here.”

“No?” he feigned confusion, reaching for his phone. He tapped the screen a mere three times before turning it to you.

Right—you had stupidly let him talk you into shoving a vibrator in your pussy before you headed out. You’d thought that just meant he missed you incredibly. Clearly not. “Don’t,” you said.

He scoffed. “Baby, I know you didn’t just tell me what to do.”

You glanced back to make sure your friends were preoccupied. “I don’t want to do this tonight, okay? I’m tired and I missed you, you were gone for a long time and I just wanted you to come home so we could spend the night together and have fun. I didn’t think you were going to invade my privacy—”

“Invade your privacy?” he interjected. “You have no privacy, doll, because you’re mine. Normally, you’re fine with that. But you were misbehaving and you need to be punished, so now you suddenly want to pretend it’s a problem? Your dramatics won’t save you tonight.”

He knew you well. And you knew him, he wasn’t going to drop this game. If you said no for an entire year—which, just to be clear, you did not have the ability to do—he would just punish you that very second you finally said yes because he could hold a grudge like it was nothing. Better to get on with it, before he decided to just stop all sexual activity. “Fine. What first?”

“Would you have lied to me?”

“Technically, no.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Can’t wait to hear this one.”

“Well, you always know when I’m lying, so is it lying?”

“Yes, it is. Don’t say something to me if it’s not true.”

You finally moved closer, taking one of his hands in both of yours. He watched you carefully, ready to stop you if you made a single move he didn’t like. You turned his hand and kissed his palm several times. “I love you.”

He scoffed. “And I love you. That doesn’t mean I’m not spanking you until your ass is several different shades of red.”

You huffed. “Well, can we get it over with?”

“No,” he scoffed. “Definitely not.”

You wanted to roll your eyes, but you knew that would only provoke more of this nonsense.

He turned to the phone again.

“Steve, not in front of everyone—” your words cut off with a yelp before you pressed your hand flat over your lips, desperately trying to silence the sounds you were making. The toy lying against your skin, set just right thanks to the very tiny, tight panties he placed you in, abruptly began to vibrate at a speed you were not prepared for.

Steve caught your arm and kept you steady. “Don’t call me Steve again,” he directed. “Not tonight, doll.”

You only let your hand slip when you couldn’t handle it anymore and needed to speak, not when you had the confidence you wouldn’t humiliate yourself. “Daddy, please—”

“Already begging to come?” He turned it up and one of your legs buckled, he kept a hold on you, mistrusting your ability to stand on your own.

“No, no,” you blurted out. “Stop, please—”

“Apologize.”

You snorted, eyes widening when you realized what you had just done. “I’m—”

And once more, the speed picked up. You grabbed the edge of the table for balance even though you knew he wouldn’t let you fall. You shot him a desperate look and he finally took pity on you, turning off the vibrator all together.

“You’re in for a rough night,” he informed you.

You pretended that was the last thing you wanted to hear, you pretended that you were upset, annoyed, exhausted. That was so far from reality. It had been a while since he went all out to punish you, you almost forgot how much you liked it. But standing there, hoping no one knew what was going on, you were quickly reminded.

Only, when you got home, you didn’t get your rough night. Well, not the one you wanted but his satisfied smirk told you this was what he had always meant. He watched you undress and remove your makeup, then he spent a cruel amount of time just kissing you everywhere, except the one place you needed him the most.

He tied your wrists and ankles to the bedpost. You were sure he was going to fuck you, make you so stupid and obedient that a sincere apology would just fall from your lips. You were wrong.

Instead, Steve elected to get himself off several times and cover you with his cum. You weren’t complaining about that, you loved feeling it on your skin. Your issue was when he untied you and told you to get in the shower before you both turned in for the night. He didn’t even get in with you.

While you were in the bathroom, he took the liberty of picking out what you were going to wear. You couldn’t be much of a tease in a simple oversized t-shirt—which wasn’t his—and leggings. You kept your back to him the entire night, but he circled his arm around you and held you like he was scared he was going to lose you, regardless of your clear anger.

It didn’t end there. When you woke up, he kissed you. It was the kind of kiss that always prefaced something, it was the kind of kiss he always gave you when he came home from a mission—a message of ‘I missed you’.

But as you were pushing on his stomach to get him on his back, he pulled away. He explained to you that he was still upset that you disobeyed him. He gave you the option, he could spank you now and fuck you later, or he would wait until you apologized and meant it.

It was an awful way to wake up, added to the frustration of the night before, your response was rude and vulgar. He merely smirked, kissed your forehead, and slipped out of bed.

Training shirtless in December. Getting way too close whenever he needed to walk by you or around you. Constantly touching you or doing things with his hands when he knew you were watching because he knew you were addicted to his fucking hands. He was shameless. And mean. And you were limited on options because you needed to have sex with this man! But you also wanted to keep your pride intact.

It was like this for several days and just one night less. He would torture you in front of everyone because he knew you weren’t going to act out. Then, the nights were strict. He made you shower alone, made you dress yourself in bland, old clothing, and then it was nothing but actual sleep.

The night it all changed was another night out, only it was a Stark party and that meant the whole gang was going. He couldn’t tell you what to wear if you avoided him all day, so you did. You spent all your time with Wanda and Nat. It was an obscenely early breakfast, then shopping, then brunch because alcohol was needed, and more shopping, up until the team was getting ready for another—undoubtedly—eventful outing.

In your skin-tight, tiny pink dress, Steve was slipping. You could see it in the way he looked at you, in the way his hands were fisted at his sides, his set jaw, and his squared shoulders. Control was fleeting and you were nothing short of smug, which only made him more determined to fight back.

He drove you to Tony’s because you both were trying to appear normal to everyone else. They always made their jokes about the games you two played, so discretion was a must. The aspect of getting caught and not just blatantly being shameless also played a role behind your secrecy.

He inquired about your day because he wanted you to admit what you did. Instead, you were almost wholly honest, you told him that you wanted to spend time with the girls. He didn’t buy it, but he wasn’t going to call you out, not while you were alone. You took advantage of his silence and divulged secrets told to you that you probably shouldn’t have—but this was Steve, he would never tell a soul.

“Wanda says Vision is terrible at going down on her.”

He shot you a look. “Can you not tell me these things about my teammates?”

“Will you help him, baby?”

His eyes went comically wide. “What?”

“You’re just so good at it.”

“You’re insane.”

You sighed. “Fine, just let Wanda suffer.

“I will.”

He was clearly uncomfortable, and you were enjoying it immensely. “Nat says Bucky is really, really good.”

He sighed. “I didn’t want to know that.”

“But I’m sure no one is better than you…remember the last time you ate me out?”

He scoffed. “Pretty sure we were going to a Stark party…it’s been too long.”

“I don’t mind,” you claimed. “I’m always the one that is too impatient to let you, anyway.”

“I always have to tie you up,” he muttered almost more to himself. “But if you were trying to get on my good side…”

“What?”

He jerked the steering wheel right and sped into a parking lot.

“Steve, what are you doing?”

He turned off the car and looked at you. “If you behave now, you might get a reward tonight.”

“Steve, we’re going to be late. The team gets mad when we’re late.”

He didn’t look worried at all. He began angling your body toward him, hands sliding down your sides until he reached your hips. He pulled you closer to the edge of the seat and you took the cue to lean against the door. “Open your legs for me.”

You curled on leg around the side of the seat and pressed the opposite out as far as you could. This was not a good idea, but when were you ever going to say no to him telling you to open your legs? Most days, they just fell open for him.

He ran his hands back up your thighs to move the dress out of his way, smirking as you shivered.

You didn’t care anymore, about anything. You couldn’t stop staring at his lips, completely willing to forget all the shit he had put you through the past few days. His mouth could make you do anything, all he ever had to do was ask.

He started by kissing your thighs because he wanted you to snap at him, to tell him to hurry up. You wouldn’t—screw the team. You would just have to bring up all the times they were late.

His eyes flit up to you several times make sure he had you absolutely wrecked with all his teasing. Your thighs were shaking, tired from how you were using them, but you always knew that he made it worthwhile.

When he finally pressed just the gentlest kiss to your pussy, you shuddered. “Daddy,” you whined. “Please eat my pussy.”

He hummed as if he was contemplating.

“Please, daddy,” you whined. “Please, it’s been so long. I miss it.”

“You don’t prefer the beard?” he challenged knowingly. The beard didn’t always make sense for his cover, sometimes he had to get rid of it. You never let him do so without fucking you just one last time—rough, fast, dirty.

“No,” you denied. “I do not prefer it.”

He arched an eyebrow, ending all those small kisses he was scattering along your skin. “Really?”

“I prefer you, Steve Rogers. Beard, no beard. Long hair, short hair. I don’t care what you look like. I just know, every second of every day, I want you to be fucking me.”

He hummed, tried to pretend it didn’t matter. But it did, because Steve needed a partner that needed him. Not in that gross, misogynistic way most men were guilty of. He needed a partner that sometimes couldn’t think straight, that sometimes couldn’t complete the simple task of living until he was inside them. “Good answer.”

You smiled. “I’m aware.” You fit those requirements well. Yes, you were good and wanted to please him. However, you were also greedy and demanding and sometimes, you threw fits and tantrums, sometimes, you refused to do what you needed to do until he made you come. You felt zero shame about wanting and needing him and you knew the simple fact of desiring him specifically always got him off.

“You really are my good girl,” he feigned realization, as if you hadn’t made it abundantly clear a million times over.

“Yes, I am.”

“And my good girl wants her pussy eaten?”

“Yes, I do.”

He kissed his way up your thigh again and finally, turned to your cunt. He kissed you several more times as you squirmed, then licked up slowly as his eyes were locked on yours.

You shuddered. “Daddy, that feels so good.”

“If you weren’t being such a good girl, I would spank you for not wearing underwear.”

You smiled.

He repeated that same touch several times, looking more and more pleased every sound you made, every jerk of your hips. It was all slow, all calculated movement designed to pleasure you just enough, but not enough. He just wanted to taste you and tease you, and you didn’t mind any of it. This is the most time Steve has spent on you in a while, you were just enjoying his attention.

You were 40 minutes late, messed up hair, flushed cheeks, shaky legs because he didn’t let you come—and everyone knew exactly what it was that had made you late, exactly what you had prioritized over them.

You were insane. You had been driven to that point by Steve Rogers, Captain America—he was a cruel man not that selfless hero everyone got to see. He’d taken you so close to that edge so many times, promised if you were patient that he would make it all up to you.

When he finally lifted your hips and buried his face between your thighs, you were sure your finish was coming. He sucked on your clit mercilessly, tongue swiping out a few times to gather the arousal leaking down your pussy. When you let him know you were close, he set you down on the seat again and told you to put your seatbelt back on.

He had done this before but maybe it was all that time that he had been gone. Maybe it was that his face was wet, his lips redder and fuller than usual, and that he simply smirked and wiped the back of his hand over his skin. It was just different. He was not going to get away with it.

You didn’t say a word for the rest of the drive. Even though he was cooing at you the entire time about how you were his doll and you were beautiful, and he claimed to love you so much. He kept touching your hair and your arm, but you wouldn’t budge.

When Bucky threw you a pitiful look, the whole plan just sort of fell into place. You couldn’t really be blamed, right? He couldn’t consider it your fault—no, at this point, he had to know that anything you did in response to his disproportionate punishment was all on him. He left you alone, didn’t fuck you, didn’t let you come—flirting with Bucky was well within your rights.

It started simple. Bucky was trying to warm up to his metal arm more—the next step in his therapy—and you liked helping. This wasn’t that, necessarily, but you could say you were killing two birds with one stone. You simply walked right up to him and draped his arm around your shoulders. You knew your boyfriend wouldn’t like it because that was what you did to him, it was one of the many ways you liked asking him for attention without using words.

Steve eyed you for nothing more than a second, and neither of you acknowledged it any further, but you knew it bothered him. You’d been given quite a powerful gift one night when Steve had you pressed to the wall, chest to your back, hand to your throat as he fucked you from behind. He had admitted that he was being so complicated—that was a week of hell, one you always shuddered thinking about because you couldn’t walk straight a few days after—because he didn’t like how he felt whenever you would just disappear with Bucky. He promised he wasn’t accusing either of you of anything, it just reminded him of how things used to be with his best friend. You didn’t like flirting with Bucky, but after what Steve had done, it was deserved.

Apparently, he wasn’t too angry since he was on you as soon as you and Bucky separated. He held you as close as possible until he talked you into going outside. Stark parties were always crowded and loud and it wasn’t rare that people would be nearly glued to the side of the building and one another, practically having sex with their clothes on. But it was rare that you and Steve were some of those people.

Yet, he was not hesitant. He led you outside, his fingers linked between yours. As soon as he could, he turned back to you and caged you against the building with his forearms on either side of your head.

He made no further moves, he just watched you. Your skin was itching with desire, but you wouldn’t let him know that. “Did you want something, daddy?”

He smirked a little, shaking his head. “Not much. I just wanted you to know that I’m aware you’ve been good.”

You smiled unintentionally, but it felt nice that he knew you were being good, knew that you wanted something very specific. Him, completely to yourself, just one night. You deserved it.

He leaned down and you tilted your head back to meet his kiss. “Well,” his lips brushed over yours, “that was until you decided to be a brat with Bucky.”

You pulled back, pouting at him.

He arched an eyebrow, challenging you to protest.

“Well, if you’re not going to touch me—”

“I was going to reward you for your patience. Good thing I decided to wait.”

“Are you kidding? I waited for you to come back and then your stupid mission got extended by three days—three, so I broke on the last night. Big deal. Then you get here and you don’t fuck me, and don’t even get me started on the shit you just pulled. I wanted attention and affection and Bucky seemed willing to provide.”

One of his hands wrapped around your throat, his thumb massaging over your pulse point. “So, your grand solution, if I’m not giving you what you want, is to run to Bucky?”

“What if I say yes?”

He glanced around before tightening his hand and looking down at you. “If you say yes, then I’m going to punish you. I’m going to take you to the side of this building, in the alley, get you on your knees, and make you remind me how much you love me. So, baby doll, what’s your answer?”

It was as if he thought you wouldn’t enjoy every second of that. “My answer is yes,” you claimed. “If you’re not giving me attention, I’ll get it from Bucky.”

He took another quick look around before dragging you into the alley just like he said he was going to. Before you could say a word, he was tearing off his jacket to toss onto the floor. He pressed you down onto it by your shoulders, hands then flying to his pants.

By the time you were comfortably settled, hands safely on his thighs, Steve had his cock out for you. Eyes on his, you opened your mouth and swallowed as much of him as you could, slowly because you needed some type of upper hand.

He didn’t let you keep it for long, however. His hand settled at the back of your head and he began fucking your throat like someone who wasn’t just pretending to be angry. Like someone who wasn’t just being the most extra fucking person because he had wanted this the very second that he’d returned home.

You knew better, you always did. He wasn’t mad, you weren’t sincerely flirting with Bucky, you wouldn’t do it again, but he wouldn’t mind if you did—given that you didn’t cross any lines. It was a fun game, but it was time to end this. All this fighting over him watching you, the power struggle, it was done. You just wanted this man to fuck you. You would surrender and you wouldn’t mind it one bit when he had you in bed later that night.

It had to be fast, he couldn’t let you tease. There were people around, people who would undoubtedly gravitate toward the alley. It was pure luck that it was empty at all, but he wasn’t going to waste time being grateful. He was rough sliding in and out of your throat, these quiet grunts just barely audible through all your gagging and the noise of the outside, the people, the cars.

By the time he finished, your throat was sore, tears began running down your cheeks all the way to your neck, drool was starting to slip from your lips. You were a mess, on your knees in an alley, all for Captain fucking America. You never dreamed of being this cool when you were younger, but sometimes things just worked out.

He had leaned onto the brick wall behind you with his forearm, eyes slammed shut, mouth hanging open as he caught his breath.

You waited patiently, despite your declining oxygen and your growing desperation for it. You swallowed when you could, tried breathing through your nose calmly, you didn’t want to have to tell him to pull out. You wanted to keep him for as long as he wanted you to, you wanted him to tell you that you were good with those heart eyes that he always got when you sucked his cock.

He began running his fingers down your hair. “Clean me up, baby.”

You did so as well as you could, but he barely gave you sufficient time before he was pulling you onto your feet.

He leaned in almost immediately to reach down, under your skirt to slide your panties down your legs. You lifted your feet when he needed you to, but mostly, just stupidly stood there. He wasn’t going to fuck you out here, was he? He was a risk-taker, you’d give him that, but an actual gambler? Not quite on that level yet.

He stood, pressing the lace to your chin to dry your face of spit and tears. He was so soft about it, so different than how he had been just moments ago. You watched his face the entire time, blushing terribly at how intently he was staring at you.

“Open your mouth, sweetheart.”

You did so, fully expecting him to kiss you. Instead, he shoved your panties between your lips and was turning away before you could blink. He tucked himself back into his pants with such ease, ease that only came from having super-hearing and knowing for sure that he wasn’t going to be caught.

So, yeah. Long story short, you pushed Steve too far and now he was mad. More than the average amount. Honestly, did he expect you not to retaliate? After he left you alone in the alley without calling you his good girl? If he didn’t see it coming, then he didn’t know you as well as you thought he did.

But he did know you enough. His rough hands had been moving over your ass for the better part of an hour. He’d positioned you in the bedroom so you could see the clock, he wanted you to see that he intended to take him time. He hadn’t spanked you yet and you were just about shaking in anticipation, you knew he had to feel how wet you were.

Yet, he didn’t say a word. He didn’t let you either, any attempt was cut off by some disapproving noise and you were too scared to push him more. Not after what you did…

But you were also impatient. You weren’t trying to be disobedient or argumentative, but you had to communicate with him. He was driving you insane, you weren’t sure you could do this much longer. You cleared your throat a bit. “Daddy—”

“Baby girl, one more time and daddy will have to gag you.”

You immediately shut up. You didn’t want to be gagged. You noticed that when you were less vocal, he was less vocal, and at the end of it all, what was the point of all the theatrics if he wasn’t going to praise you?

He leaned down and kissed the top of your head.

You just wanted to hear it. That you were good, that he was proud of you. Instead, without warning, his hand struck one side of your ass and you were so surprised that you yelped.

Your hands rushed to your mouth as you turned back over your shoulder slightly to eye him. You saw him smirk, this was obviously what he wanted, but then he tsked at you. “I’m sorry, daddy, I was just surprised. I’ll be quiet, I swear.”

He let his palm rub over the red mark across your skin. He hummed, feigning thought. “I don’t know, doll.” His opposite hand came up to grab your jaw, turning your attention forward again.

You were opposed to the gag, but if he wanted to choke you… You brought both your hands up to his forearm and pressed against it until his hand slid down a bit, settling confidently to your throat.

He scoffed. “Want me to choke you?”

You nodded.

“You can speak.”

“Please, daddy,” you begged.

“After all the misbehaving? Do you honestly think you deserve it?”

“Yes.”

He snorted. “Okay.” His hand wrapped around your neck, so suddenly that the surprised noise you made got caught in your throat. The next time he smacked you, your moan was choked, barely audible.

You were immediately relieved. You weren’t going to have to try to be quiet. He always treated that part like a game, if he told you to be quiet, he would then do whatever he could to make you get loud.

He was hitting harder than usual, hard enough that the only thing keeping you draped over his lap was his hand in front of you that was wound around you. You didn’t mind at all, you always wanted him to let go a little. But of course, he was Steve, and he couldn’t stop being overprotective if his life depended on it.

That he wasn’t more concerned with checking in on you was testament to how angry you’d made him. The thing with Bucky was clearly a game, Steve knew you were just making some cheap shots to get his attention. Taking you outside and getting you to suck him off was just him indulging you.

This was not that. You were being punished and his greatest source of irritation seemed to be that you were completely unapologetic. Also, there was the pride aspect, that you had done this in front of the team. If he couldn’t keep you in check, what kind of a leader was he?

But he most certainly couldn’t control you, not unless you wanted to let him. Mostly, he seemed to like that, seemed to like the challenge, the power struggles, the attitude. However, tonight, when you were dancing with Wanda, he seemed a bit…opposed. Wanda herself had been mad at Steve because of a little disagreement they had during their last mission. She was playing to win and if your sore aching ass was any indication, she had.

You always danced with Wanda, you danced with all your friends. But see, Wanda could read minds and that didn’t always produce the best scenarios. She knew you were desperate for an upper hand and she was just crazy enough to help you get it. It started fun like it always did when the girls were free of the boys, but then her hands were on your hips. Yet, you were fine, you knew Steve wouldn’t like it, but oh well.

Then, she spun you around, your back to her chest, and you were facing Steve. And well, she let her hands wander. You had been drinking a little, it was thrilling watching Steve watch you, knowing that he was going to make tonight hell for you.

He was beautiful, sat there, contemplating, strategizing, waiting with the restraint of a god. This was one of those moments when he just couldn’t turn off Captain America, when one was blending into the other. You never minded that. You loved Steve first, of course, but Captain America was just right after that.

You were excited when he calmly got onto the floor almost an hour later and told you it was time to go. You had to bite your tongue to stop the giggles and the words you desperately wanted to say as he took your hand and led you outside. Your body was humming with energy as he drove you back to the compound, hand firmly on your thigh.

He told you he could smell you, your pussy, how terribly you wanted him. He carried you to his room, knowing that your legs were weak and that if given the option, you’d beg him to fuck you in the hall. It was the start of your submission, you both loved it when he handled you like it was nothing.

By the time he yanked your panties down, you were already crying and shaking, your entire body throbbing for a release. Some of your tears had rolled down your cheeks and onto his thigh, and he could feel your knees buckling despite you trying to stand for him. He always ordered you to stay on your feet no matter how useless it was, no matter that even in heels, draped over his huge body, your feet barely touched the ground.

He stopped spanking you only to grab one of your hands from his forearm, dragging it down. “Touch your clit.”

It was nothing short of awkward positioning. You had to reach under his thigh and back up to where your cunt was. You had to angle your ass up just a little to have access, and he took that to mean that you wanted him to smack you harder.

He leaned down, kissing your head. “You’re okay?” He let your neck go just a little, a sign he wanted you to use words.

You nodded, clearing your throat. “Yes, daddy.”

“Don’t stop touching your clit until I tell you. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“And you better not come.”

“Okay.”

“If you do either of these things, I will tie you up and spank you for the rest of the night. I won’t fuck you, I won’t make you come.”

You nodded again. “Okay.”

You were slow about it, worried that you might work yourself up too quickly. He only just started with this, he wasn’t going to let it go for at least 30 minutes. He smacked you the entire time. It was heavy and noisy, and never failed to make your hips jolt so much that your clit was constantly moving out of reach before you panicked and set yourself back in the correct place.

“Rub your clit faster, doll.”

“Daddy—”

He reached down to take your hand, pressed firmly on your clit, and spoke over the moan that fell from your open mouth. “Do it like that, don’t make me tell you again.”

Even when he moved his hand, you continued. Your moans were strangled but loud enough for him. “Daddy, I’ll come like this.”

“Don’t,” was all he said and followed with another strike across your ass.

“Daddy, please, I’m going to come.” Your thighs were already shaking, that pressure in your lower body was building, threatening to bloom into a numbing orgasm. “Daddy, I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can.” Another smack. “Aren’t you my good girl?” And another. “Don’t you wanna make daddy proud?” Another.

“Yes, daddy, but it feels too good,” you blurted out.

“My decision has been made.” He hit you twice more before you started to panic.

“Daddy, I’m sorry,” you whined. “I’m really sorry, please let me stop!”

He settled one hand over your ass cheek and removed his hand from your neck to take your hand away from your pussy. “Baby, make it a good apology or we will start all over.”

You pulled your joined hands up and started kissing his knuckles. “I’m sorry, daddy, I promise I am.”

“For what?” he asked slowly. “Say all of it.”

“For flirting with Bucky.”

He smacked you again and you hissed. “How did you flirt with Bucky?”

“I let him touch me.”

Once more. “And why is that wrong?”

You waited until your skin stopped stinging before you spoke. “Because only you should be touching me.”

He hummed and his hand came down again. “Go on.”

“And for dancing with Wanda.”

“You wanted to make daddy mad, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” you admitted.

“Because you wanted to be spanked,” he accused.

You nodded. “Yes.”

“How’s that working out for you, doll?”

“It was fun for a while,” you admitted.

He snorted. “You’re a god damn brat.”

You kissed his hand again. “Your brat?”

He rolled his eyes, but you could see he was trying to fight a smile. “Yeah, mine. No one else should touch you, no one else should be dancing with you.” He finally pulled you up, quickly setting you so that you straddled him. He touched your face with both hands, looking over you carefully.

Your hands went to his pants and you began moving them out of the way.

He lifted an eyebrow at you. “I know you’re not doing that without permission.”

Biting your lip, you shrugged and pressed your palm against his cock through the pants.

He spanked you again and you crashed into him. Your knees slipped from the mattress and you frantically caught onto his shoulders. He gave you no time to recover, instead, rolled over so you were under him. “You know what I want to hear, doll.”

You did know. As much as you wanted him to praise you, he wanted you to tell him you loved him. But, again, you truly were a brat and sometimes decided to withhold such an admission. “I love you, daddy.”

“I love you, too.”

You brought a hand up to his face. “Are you gonna fuck me, daddy?”

“I’m gonna ruin you, baby doll,” he corrected. “First, I’m gonna eat your pussy and let you come. Then, I’m gonna fuck your pussy until I’m not hard anymore. Then I’m gonna fuck your mouth until I’m ready to fuck your ass.”

You would place money on the absurd idea that he’d somehow gotten a degree in teasing. Pathetically, you clutched at his shirt. “Please?”

He smirked. “Anything you want, baby girl.”

You yanked the hem up his back and he assisted you in taking it off. You kissed him hungrily, open-mouthed, moaning, yanking on his lip with both of yours.

He wasted no time, spared no warning, offered no preparation time. Abruptly, two of his thick fingers were inside your pussy and you were crying out, throwing your head back, body arching up closer to his. He started kissing your face, down the faint tear tracks that resulted from the prior spanking.

Again, he ordered against your skin, “say it again.”

“I love you,” you blurted out, hips rolling up to get him in further. “Daddy, I love you so fucking much.”

As his fingers curled, he kissed down your face, your neck, all the way down to one of your breasts. “Touch the other,” he directed, and didn’t close his mouth around your nipple until your hand had cupped your neglected breast.

He sucked hard, pressed his fingers hard, held you down with his hips hard. Everything about him was hard and rough and determined. He took you there fast, to that place where your body was shaking, these whiny, small noises couldn’t stop pouring out of you if your life depended on it, your hips jerking, your pussy clenching, stars behind your god damn eyes.

“I’m close, daddy. Can I come?”

He bit into your skin instead of answering, perfect teeth surrounding your nipple, a fucking threat. Did he actually think you didn’t want him to dig his teeth into you?

Your second hand came up to the back of his head where you fisted his hair and pressed him down more. “Harder, daddy, harder.”

He let his teeth pinch you just a tad more, concern clear in his actions.

“Harder,” you repeated.

Again, he gave you what you asked for, and pressed a third finger inside you. It was a delicious, disorienting, blissful stretch that you had to spread your legs to try to take.

“Harder,” you ordered, tone sharp, maybe a little condescending.

His fingers began pounding into you, wet noises echoing from your pussy. Finally, you were sure his teeth had pierced your skin.

You screamed so loud you were sure the entire floor heard you—distantly, you spared thought to who was going to give you a rough time at breakfast. Your orgasm followed almost instantly, and Steve fucked his fingers into you until you were mewling and brushing your fingers through his hair. You couldn’t say much at the moment but that little gesture never failed to stroke that unspoken part of Steve—which you had always known about—that also liked praise.

He turned up to you and you saw him lick his lips, maybe you’d seen a flash of red, maybe you’d just imagined it. Your breast stung, you thought you might have felt something drip down your skin… He pulled you up with him, hand on your arm, his other hand touching your lips, giving you a little taste of what your pussy had left behind on his fingers.

Before you could say a word, Steve was getting you on your knees and pushing you toward the headboard. You were confused by it but since you were still reeling from your last orgasm, you decided to trust him. He kept you facing away from him and you didn’t understand why until your wrists were being tied to the headboard. He took your hips and yanked you back and it was then you thought maybe you knew what he was doing. Your ankles were next, which was a long process given that you were so far away from the next spot on the bed that could hold a rope.

You were uncomfortably angled, body pulled tight. It was his favorite way to eat you out, you were completely exposed to him, unable to pull yourself away if he was overstimulating you. How he got back under you is another part of this that you were unclear on, anticipation now clouding your ability to logical thoughts.

His hands slid up your thighs, over your ass, clasped around your waist and then he pulled you down almost violently, clearly unconcerned about the way that pulled at both your arms and legs. You didn’t mind much either.

Once more, he didn’t bother with any of that elaborate shit. You weren’t built up, you weren’t led to an orgasm. He ate your pussy like it was the only thing he knew how to do. He alternated between running his tongue through you—prodding your entrance just slightly, then over your clit, back down and the same, over and over—to sucking your clit between his lips, moaning, sighing, making all of these appreciative noises that only added to all the sensations.

His fingers dug into your skin, your ribs painfully, your limbs were aching, but you knew it didn’t matter. Even if you told him all of this, even if you could make yourself care—as if you could focus on anything but his mouth—he wasn’t going to stop until he was satisfied.

Your first finish was slow, a somewhat drawn-out process that he worked to keep you on the edge of for just a few moments. He wasn’t teasing, necessarily, but he needed to remind you, in this state of hazy pleasure, that your body was wholly his. You squeezed your eyes shut, yanked on the ropes because that was the only thing you could do, and once again, reminded him that you loved him.

The second orgasm felt nearly immediately after—though, time distantly existed to someone as satisfied as you. You were trying to relax, worried you would spend yourself before you got fucked. He didn’t stop, he didn’t slow, if anything, he was faster, more skilled. He sucked at your skin roughly, a demand because he was getting impatient.

You were a whimpering, crying mess, begging him in half sentences because you were unable to articulate fully what you wanted. Your pussy spasmed, clenching in desperate need to be filled as he focused solely on your clit. You screamed things that you knew he would be smug about for days to come, how good you felt, how badly you needed only him, how much you wanted to be on his cock because he had the best cock in the world.

Prior to you, Steve thought he didn’t need to hear such biased things from a lover. But since he couldn’t get drunk, this was basically the only drug he could indulge in and get something out of.

This was around the time you started to worry, because again, you were offered no recovery time. He flicked his tongue over your clit regardless of your pleas for a break, regardless of how desperately you pulled on the ropes, regardless of the tears rolling down your cheeks. It was too much, you couldn’t come again.

He brought his hand up and spread your cunt, tongue continuing back and forth over that sensitive spot. You sobbed, utterly broken, overwhelmed, consumed, and insisted that you couldn’t give him another one. He stopped licking you only to say, “you can, and you will,” before diving right back in.

He must have known that this was it, this was when you needed your reprieve. You finished and he made sure not a drop of you went to waste, but then he was kissing around your thighs, you could feel that his cheeks and jaw were wet and there was something deep inside you that loved that his face was covered in you—maybe you could go a couple more rounds.

He tore the ropes off, uncaring of what happened to the bed or anything else—though, the way the post creaked made you worry. He just wanted to get you loose quickly and as soon as you were free, he was laying you down and kissing you wherever he could reach, mainly your chest and one of your arms.

When his lips were on yours, you remembered how badly you had wanted him inside you. It didn’t matter that you could barely move, you insisted on pushing his jeans down. “Daddy, please?”

He helped you because he doubted your ability to do so on your own, but he made the mental note to let you undress him before he ate you out next time. He loved when you undressed him, how your fingers would glide down his skin so softly, like he was something delicate or breakable. Sometimes, it made him forget who and what he was.

Though you were soaking wet, somewhat numb from all that overstimulation, he was hard enough that it hurt. His cock pressed into you carefully, inch by inch, his eyes on your face the whole time. He loved the flush on your cheeks, that hazy gleam in your eye, your swollen, parted lips—you looked so wrecked.

You weakly hooked a leg around his ass, hands following to grasp at his shoulders. “Daddy, I feel like I’ve needed you inside me for a fucking year.” And now he was there, and it made no sense how complete you felt, how sated, how at-home.

He kissed your lips first, a clear apology, then he kissed all around your face until you couldn’t stop smiling. “I’ll make it up to you,” he assured. “I’m gonna pound your beautiful little pussy until I know you can’t take it anymore.”

Sometimes, fucking so wildly and creatively was at the cost of simple intimacy. As he picked up this steady pace, this nice roll of his hips that was deep enough to make you cry out and forceful enough that his skin slapped noisily against yours, your eyes sought his out. He set his hand to your cheek, a nonverbal order to keep looking at him. His eyes always seemed like an ocean to you, so great, so dangerous, so mysterious. You realized he hadn’t spoken about his last mission, you were beginning to wonder if there was a bigger reason for all these games. Maybe this was his way of sneakily getting you here without having to talk about it—he never liked you to worry.

You finished and it felt like he was finally home, despite him having been there for several days. You shuddering beneath him, tightening around him to the point of being painful just grounded him like nothing else could, reminded him that he was human.

His hips stilled immediately and before you could say a word, his lips were on yours. He was smart, anyone who ever claimed Steve wasn’t alarmingly intelligent was dead wrong. He was a strategist above all else, that also applied in bed. He wanted you to come down fast before he started up again, he wanted you loose and weak because you were less likely to make him come that way. And he had such grand plans for the rest of the night, it was written all over his face, meaning he was edging himself.

There were few things better than when Steve did this. He always knew how to start slow for himself, not gentle, not boring, just simply not enough. With time, he fucked you harder, he grabbed you like you were little more than a toy given to him simply for his pleasure, the noises he made were animalistic, the things he would say… You just had to last that long, and it was always a mystery if you would, if he would take it easy on you or not.

Usually, he didn’t care to be so considerate.

He settled his weight on one of his forearms as he pulled away from the kiss. His opposite hand slid down your body and to your sensitive cunt.

“Daddy,” you whimpered. Nope, he most certainly was not going easy on you tonight.

He didn’t start fucking you again. Instead, he rubbed firm, quick circles over your clit until you were shaking and screaming and crying and squeezing his shoulders in your hands.

While you were coming, he brought his hand over your mouth and nose. You did your best to look up at him, but he kept his fingers on your clit and you could barely think straight, let alone see straight.

“Hear that?” That was when he started thrusting. “Hear how wet your pussy is? It’s been that wet all night, you’ve been so desperate for my cock all night. When you were flirting with Bucky, when you were dancing with Wanda. And they both knew it. Bucky can smell you, too, and I’m sure Wanda was reading your thoughts.”

Both of those suggestions were mortifying. It wasn’t normal how weak and pathetic you got over Steve’s cock. Thinking that the team knew that, that Wanda was listening to some of your thoughts, you wouldn’t be able to look them in the eye for at least the next week.

He kept his hand over you, preventing you from breathing because he knew it would make your next orgasm better. He felt a sinful amount of pride when your eyes began crossing, when your hips started to jerk, when you started digging your nails into his skin. You were so fucked out you didn’t care what you looked like or sounded like, and that was what turned him on like nothing else after long nights like these.

You started shoving his arm as you were coming down, realizing once more the importance of oxygen. He waited, kept his hold over you, eyes locked on yours, until your eyes filled with more tears and your skin turned just a little red. When he let you go, your chest heaved as you greedily took in air. And he never once stopped driving his cock in and out of you, reveling in the sounds.

“Daddy—”

He scoffed, rolling over effortlessly so you were on top. “Come on, sweetheart, I know you’re not trying to tap out right now.” His hand spread over your back, holding you down flat. His voice was surprisingly steady considering his erratic thrusts. “Not only would I not let you, but you know you’re tougher than that.”

Your cheek was pressed to his chest, the loudest sound you could hear was his pounding heart. You had your hands somewhere on his body, all you could feel was skin and muscle and heat. His hands slid down to your ass where he held you in place and fucked you harder than he usually liked to. Screams tore from your throat along with these small mewls when you were almost choking on air because you could barely remember how to breathe.

“You love me, baby doll?”

“Yes,” you rasped. “Yes, daddy, I love you.”

“You gonna be a good girl and let daddy use you all night?”

“Yes.” That was a big promise you weren’t sure you were going to be able to keep but your desire to make him proud sometimes beat out logic.

“Sit up,” he directed but moved you himself. He placed your hands on his chest but kept a good hold of your shoulders. “You know what I want.”

And for some reason, your hips, despite all the screaming your muscles were doing, started to roll.

He let out a pleased sigh, eyes roaming over your body. His hands weren’t tight, they were just there if he needed to catch you, but this was all you. This was his baby, riding his cock because you were such a good girl.

This had to be adrenaline, there was no other explanation for why you were able to move on your own. From this position, you could feel how wet and sticky you’d gotten his thighs—how many times had he made you come? You weren’t sure anymore.

As you drew yourself closer to an orgasm, now wildly bouncing on his cock, screaming, gasping, sobbing, you pressed your nails down into his pecs as sharply as you could.

He watched your breasts move with you, smugly admiring the bruised and broken skin around your nipple. His heart swelled when he felt you trying to mark him up, too. You made him wish that he didn’t heal so fast sometimes, if only so he could be covered in you as much as you were covered in him.

He caught your hip in one hand when you were getting him too close. He dragged you down until you were flat on his lap, struggling to sit on the entire length of his cock. His other hand went to your clit again and you threw your head back and moaned shamelessly. He flicked his thumb over you until you were shaking, your knees digging into his sides, your chest heaving, your arms buckling.

He let you come down this time but not because he was feeling nice. He’d been so lost in you that he had let himself get just a little too far. But that didn’t stop you from being a fucking tease, he suspected nothing in this world could. You were sitting there, pussy occasionally clenching around his cock, your hands kneading your breasts and pinching your nipples.

His hand tightened on you when your shaky fingers touched the bite he’d left behind. You hissed a little, glancing down to assess the damage. He was sick for biting you like that, but you were sick for looking so god damn happy about it.

Your eyes flit up to him, catching him looking just a little weak. His mouth snapped shut when he realized you were watching him. “Wanna give me another one, daddy?”

Scoffing, he sat up, situating himself onto his legs so you could sit on his thighs. His arms slid around your back and he pulled you up until you were a head or so taller than him. With your eyes locked, he sucked your nipple between his lips.

“Fuck, daddy,” you whispered.

He hummed lightly, teeth just barely pressing down.

“Shit,” you muttered, almost more to yourself. You always liked feeling it, but he’d never taken the time to let you watch him do it.

He started sucking, taking more of your breast in his mouth until he’d decided where he wanted to let his teeth cut into your skin. He did it slow, sinking them in carefully and keeping his gaze on you the whole time. You were shaking again and he could feel your cunt leaking onto his lap. He wasn’t sure he’d ever gotten you this wet before.

Your eyes filled with new tears when he finally broke your skin. You bit your lip to keep from making a noise too big, but it was an agonized cry that made him pause for just a moment. But then you squeezed your pussy around him and his hand came down on your ass loudly, you weren’t sure what scared you more the sudden sound or the force behind it.

He pulled his mouth off and admired his work for a second before turning up to you. “You want to be a fucking brat after I’m making you act like this?”

You scoffed shakily. “And how are you making me act, daddy?”

Instead of answering that, he asserted, “I’ve never seen someone so desperate to have every hole fucked this hard. I’m sure most people haven’t.”

You arched an eyebrow at him.

“Maybe I should fuck you in front of the team, hmm?”

That idea probably didn’t put you off as much as he thought it would. Although, calling him daddy, begging for his cock and his cum, crying because he won’t let you finish—thinking of other people watching you submit like that was a little embarrassing.

“How about just Wanda and Vision?” you suggested.

He snorted. “Really?”

“He can watch you eat my pussy, you can show him how to do it.”

He hummed, pretending that he didn’t care.

But he should have stopped you because you were about to cross the line with him. After all, it was one of your favorite hobbies. “But before we get Wanda’s hopes up, maybe he could practice on me a few times.”

And when he gripped your hip tighter, you knew you’d hit the bullseye. He took his opposite hand and grabbed your jaw. “I’m only going to say this once, doll.”

You hummed, trying to hide how pleased with yourself you were.

“If you ever joke about someone else eating your pussy, I’ll fucking spank you until I see some blood.”

Though it was more than likely an empty threat—Steve didn’t have it in him to do that to you, even when you promised you would tell him if it was too much—his deep voice, his unrelenting grip on your jaw, his dark eyes all made you wetter.

“Understood?”

You tried not to smile but you failed, and continued to fail as you tried to hide it by nodding.

He scoffed sharply. “You’re so fucking spoiled.”

He grabbed a handful of hair at the back of your head, smirking when you startled. Before you could say a word, he was yanking you down until his cock had slipped out and you rolled off his lap. He didn’t much care where you landed, he just shoved your face into the bed.

Then he was on top of you, settling his body over yours but being careful not to set any weight on you. He was not gentle at all when he entered you again because this was the kind of fucking that wouldn’t stop until you were sweating, dripping with cum, crying, and blurting out nonsense that always seemed to placate him.

He kept your face pressed into the mattress as he railed into you. You screamed loudly because you could, because he wasn’t letting you do anything else, because it was the only way you could express to him how badly you wanted to finish, how badly you wanted him to finish. As you were coming, you only got louder, your throat was starting to ache, your heart was pounding, your head spinning—you couldn’t fucking breathe, not that you minded, and you were wasting the little oxygen you did have to let this man know he was fucking you just right.

He waited until your body was thrashing with aftershocks, until your voice had died down somewhat, and then lifted your head. Instead of letting you catch your breath, he leaned over and kissed you. It was a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss with a lot of tongue, both of you moaning as his hips continued to move.

“Daddy, are you gonna come?”

“You want me to?”

You nodded as well as you could with his hold on your hair. “Please, daddy.”

He hummed before shoving your face back down. He sat back then, free hand coming to the small of your back to keep you right there. With this new position, he had a lot more leverage and he took full advantage of that. You didn’t scream this time, you couldn’t. A sound had caught in your throat the second he slammed back into you harder than you could ever remember him doing so. It fucking hurt and you were aching, but you loved that harsh sting you felt in your pussy. You loved that he was the one who did it to you.

He collapsed back over you as he finished. His mouth took your shoulder, biting down to muffle the groans pouring from him as his body moved at a steady pace. You could feel his cum filling you, soon it would be dripping out, soon he would be moving again until he’d just about fucked it all out of you, and he’d want to do it again and again, until he wasn’t hard anymore.

Currently though, he was. He was buried deep inside you and it hurt to have him there while you were still tight from your last finish and the impending next one. It was a feeling you’d gotten used to, a feeling you’d grown to crave sometimes. That pain that was so uniquely Steve Rogers because no one else had that stamina or strength.

He sat up again, releasing his hold on your head so you could finally breathe. He let you collect yourself as he began positioning you over him. He spread your legs as wide as they could go, draping your thighs over his.

Was he ever going to give you a break?

His hands both curled around your waist, fingers pressing firmly down on that skin. He dragged you down further onto his cock and you threw your head back. He kept fucking you like this, just pushing and pulling your body and holding you so tight. He was merciless, forcing you to take as much of his cock as you could before you screamed. He loved hearing you scream. It fueled him on, so it was no surprise when he pinned you down to the mattress, hands painfully grasping at your skin, and began fucking you so roughly that the bed was rattling. You were shrieking and crying and pleading, and your hips were angling up so you could take him in deeper. All you wanted was your next orgasm.

When you got it, you felt much like a shattered vase. You could do nothing but lay there in pieces, panting, disoriented, struggling to keep a grip on reality. Through it all, he pounding into you, roughly handling your body to best get himself off.

You knew he was coming when he brought his forearms down on either side of you. It was a few more harsh snaps of his hips and then he was unmoving, and you were full of him. He wasn’t completely rested on you, but it was the only thing in that moment that could ground you.

You blindly, mindlessly reached for him. You curled your arm back, grabbing his hair to pull him closer. You didn’t want to kiss him, you just wanted him as close as he could possibly get. Regardless, he did kiss you until he felt like you had come down enough for him.

He slipped his cock out and you felt his cum following, dripping from your pussy. He climbed off the bed, standing at the very edge where he gestured you over. “Come here, baby doll.”

You weren’t sure how you made yourself crawl over to him. It was purely a miracle that your muscles worked. You were on your hands and knees when you took him into your mouth. His hand settled in your hair and he let his head fall back.

He wasn’t totally soft, but as soft as he was going to get while his thoughts about all the ways he wanted to fuck you persisted. He grabbed your hair and pulled you off, smiling a little when he saw you pouting. There were few things he liked seeing more than when you would get bratty just to suck him off. “Lay down on your back.”

You quickly obliged. He had never placed you in this position before and you loved when Steve took control of positions—it was never disappointing. He took your waist and pulled you to the edge of the bed until your head was dangling over. Immediately, you opened your mouth for him and he thrust back in.

You gagged noisily, your throat moving around him as you struggled to take him. He let you adjust on your own while his hands wandered your body. First, he grabbed your breasts, pinched your nipples until your back was arching and you were whimpering for more. He let them slide down until he could grab your thighs. He spread your legs as wide as they could go and watched your cunt pulsing and clenching, messy, sticky. And dipping with his cum.

“Keep your legs open for me,” was all he said before he leaned over and his tongue was sliding through your folds. You whined, muffled by his cock, utterly frustrated by how badly you wanted him to suck your clit. He pressed his hands down flat on your thighs to keep you pinned right where he wanted and began fucking your mouth.

The room was filled with sounds of you choking and moaning and him eating your soaking pussy and those breaths that you drew from him when you swallowed him just right. During your finish, he stopped his hips, denying himself the same relief. This happened several times and you wouldn’t have minded if he did it for the rest of the night. You didn’t understand how you could want more after all he had given you, but you did. More of his mouth, his hands, his cock.

When he pulled himself from your mouth, he was hard again. You didn’t let him tell you what to do next. You just reached for him, one hand wrapping around his cock and the other massaging his sac. You didn’t stop even though he was fucking you with his fingers, cruel and punishing, until he was spilling out on your skin.

He watched as you let your hands spread his cum all over your breasts and down your body to your pussy where more of him remained. You covered as much of yourself as you could in it and all he could think was that he wanted to do the same to the rest of your body, particularly your ass.

You knew immediately what was coming next. You got up, haphazardly crawled around the mattress until you could lie down and pressed your ass against him eagerly. He got his cock wet with your dripping center, just lightly dipping in and chuckling at the weak sounds you made, and then slowly, he pressed into your asshole.

You gripped at the sheets as he fed you more and more of his cock. Once more, when his hips were flush against you, he became insatiable. He used you to get every last ounce of frustration out and you felt powerful and wanted. He was rough and relentless, he didn’t care how many times you orgasmed, he didn’t care that you were overstimulated and overwhelmed.

You were sweating and shaking, impossibly wet, but he kept going because your hips were driving back to meet his thrusts. You could whine and beg as much as you wanted but Steve knew your body and he was the one that decided when you had had enough. You grabbed at his arms where he had them placed over your head on the mattress for balance, desperate to touch him, to bring him closer to you.

He never stopped fucking you while he situated himself on his side and pulled you along with him. He held you against his chest, arms wound tightly around you as his fingers either pinched your nipples, wrapped around your throat, or rubbed your clit. You were drowning in dozens of sensations that you couldn’t distinguish if your life depended on it.

When Steve finished again, he held onto you almost desperately. He whispered in your ear, the sweetest things, a major contrast compared to the entire night. “Thank you, baby doll, I’ve needed that since I got home.” He took your jaw in his hand and turned you to face him. “Do you love daddy?”

You nodded and made this pathetic noise because you stupidly thought you were capable of forming words. He smiled a little and suddenly, you were just lost in him. His eyes. His lips. His entire fucking unfairly beautiful face.

“Did daddy make you feel good tonight?”

You nodded again. You didn’t know much but you did know that you were high off these things that Steve did to you.

He gave you a single, chaste kiss. “You deserved it, baby girl.”

You began turning your body toward him and he took the hint. He pulled out, grabbing the blankets that were strewn all around the bed. You curled up against him, so tiny and so weak, and he was brimming with pride because he did that to you and you let him and you, this amazing fucking person, loved him. He wasn’t sure what he did to deserve it, but he didn’t ponder too long as he wrapped you up in the blankets and cradled you against him.

tags:

@donutloverxo @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @onetwo3000

#steve rogers x reader #my writing

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douglysium · 9 months ago

Text

Episode 11 TMP Quick Thoughts

Housekeeping and Prologue

Episode 11 “Marked”

And we are back, baby. I’ve actually started writing this literally the second after I finished listening to the episode. I was originally planning to wait until the weekend to write this but I’ve become so excited I can’t help myself, and Rusty Quill has been on top of posting the transcripts when the episodes comes out.

As always, the episode is being told to us through some sort of device. In this case we cut to Celia via her phone. The transcripts make it clear what’s happening “A busy motorway nearby. CELIA is asleep on grass. She starts to make slightly distressed noises as she stirs. A lorry roars past nearby and she awakes with a start.” She obviously seems frustrated upon realizing something has happened again but she realizes something as she begins to pat herself down looking for her phone or some other (most likely communication) device.

CELIA

“(to herself) Yes! Ok, phone in the pocket works. She starts tapping the screen.”

CELIA

“(to herself) If it had signal. She sighs in helpless frustration.”

CELIA

“Shit.” She stretches and starts trudging off towards the motorway.

CELIA

“Hold on, Jack, I’m on my way.”

Celia probably comes from or has some relation to the TMA universe but what this entire situation has to do with it, if anything, is beyond me. I don’t know who Jack is and Celia implies that this entire situation has happened before. It is once again confirmed however that whatever is listening through all the electronic devices in TMP doesn’t need said devices to have wi-fi or internet connection to be able to do so. Which was further emphasized by the fact that it was capable of listening through a tape recorder last episode.

Now that I think about it, did Celia need the phone for communication or some other thing. It’s possible that she was trying to access something like a GPS or online map to figure out where she was or where to go but it’s unclear. I can’t say if Celia implying this has happened before means she has woken up at this exact spot or random areas in general. Considering her questions to Sam about multiversal and time travel I wonder if she attempted some sort of experiment which led to her appearing in this location. Is Celia trying to get somewhere in particular? Maybe she’s trying to get back to the TMA universe or maybe she’s trying to get somewhere new?

We cut to the OIAR offices via one of the computers. I consider the interaction we witness in this scene to be another enlightening one about some of the possible dynamics at play in the OIAR workplace. Alice clearly cares strongly about Sam and they like to tease each other a lot. Sam seems a bit down about finding no clues about the Magnus Institute and Alice tries to cheer Sam up. The two talk about where Celia and Gwen are but neither knows where they are. It makes sense that they would wonder since Gwen seems like a stickler for rules and it seems weird that about half the people working in this office have disappeared with no notice. Gwen brought Sam and Celia coffee while also mentioning “I’ve got a mocha for Celia and I was really looking forward to pretending I “accidentally” forgot to order Gwen anything.” Once again, highlighting how antagonistic their relationship is and how Alice can go beyond just simple teasing and towards just being outright hostile or mean toward Gwen.

Alice seems extremely nervous and mentions “ just… I dunno. When I left the coffee shop, it felt like someone was following me.” Sam jokes “Sounds like maybe you were more bothered by that “soggy ruin” than you admit.” but Alice asks him not to joke about it, which shows that she’s extremely rattled. This level of fear from being watched sort of parallels the Institute in TMA with how Jon was scared from a feeling of being watched in the Institute. In MAG 39 (Infestation) Jon says “Because I’m scared, Martin!. Because when I record these statements it feels… it feels like I’m being watched.” However, it’s clear that what Alice is probably feeling is related to whatever escaped from the Institute in the last episode. I wonder if that being is somehow connected to The Eye. It is an Entity connected to both the fear of being watched and even followed or stalked. Not to mention the creature came from the Institute, a faction that was at least aligned with The Eye in TMA.

However, there’s an argument that this could just as easily be something related to The Spiral, Stranger, Hunt, or some other Entity entirely. The Institute had dealings with all kinds of Entities, not just The Eye. The most obvious example of this is their Artifact Storage, which collected objects connected to various Entities. So it’s possible this is some other Entity’s Monster or Avatar that was being sealed and / or researched. Considering all the alchemical undertones I even have to wonder if it’s some sort of artificial creation like some kind of homunculus.

Sam offers to walk with Alice home, to which she appreciates, and they get to work categorizing their statements. We follow the statement that Sam is listening to as exposited by CHESTER.

This statement comes from emails being sent from Gordon J to Alison Leshi regarding “Padstow civil cemetery exhumations.” In case you don’t know, an exhumation is “the action of digging up something buried, especially a corpse.” Gordon starts off by explaining to Alison that everything is going as planned, despite the sudden cold snap, due to proper planning. He also says “We also did some load testing of the ground near the cliff edge, and it looks like there’s only a few graves where the erosion means we won’t be able to use the Bobcat, and that’s few enough that my boys can do that by hand.” The first few days of this project have gone smoothly and David, their medical examiner, seems happy with their precautions.

Gordon mentions “with all the precautions we’re taking, and while we’ve certainly had our fair share of lookie-loos, there’s not been any sign of the protestors you were so concerned about stirring up. I guess it helps that no-one’s been buried here for over a hundred years, so it’s not like we’re pulling up granddad. The sailors sleeping here haven’t seen mourners since Queen Vic.” I think Gordon raising the possibility that there could be protestors is interesting. I wonder if it’s simply the fact that people might be upset at the destruction of these graves or if there’s some other reason? For example, someone might see it as an important historical site or maybe they view this project as harming the environment in some way? If you want a more supernatural reason, it could be that someone is afraid that disturbing the site could anger someone / something?

Gordon gets more personal and talks about how this job means a lot to them. They say “I know we can’t have been the cheapest company to put in a bid, but as local lads we’ve been coming to this graveyard all our lives (even if just to sneak some booze as stupid teenagers), and now that the cliff’s finally giving up the ghost (if you’ll pardon the pun), it feels right for us to be the ones taking it apart.” I looked up the phrase “giving up the ghost” and it seems like it can refer to “to stop trying to do something because you know that you will not succeed.”

Gordon says they’ll get back to Alison when the job is done but they send an email earlier than expected due to some unforeseen circumstances, and apparently David told Gordon to update Alison on the circumstances despite the fact that Gordon thinks it shouldn’t throw off their current schedule. They encountered some human remains that seem like they are in quite good condition. “...for context, the containers they’re buried in are of really varied quality. I’d say just under half were buried in decent coffins that are still in good enough shape to remove and transport unopened. For others though, the wood has rotted to the point where it’s pretty much impossible to keep the boxes together and some were just wrapped in oil cloth. This means we’re seeing, touching and moving a lot of human remains directly. Don’t worry, this isn’t about a health and safety thing – we have all the right gear and David’s making sure we follow procedure. It’s just that one of the graves had a body in that was too well-preserved for the age it should have been. Or at least, most of the skin was in extremely good condition. The back was completely covered in this complicated tattoo of a ship sailing across an open sea towards an open horizon. It was really impressive.” Take note of the tattoo since this isn’t the first time we’ve encountered a complex and very visually impressive tattoo in TMP and it’s going to come up again in this very episode.

David says that they need a second opinion and some tests since if the bodies have been buried more recently than 1908 it would mean that the cemetery is technically a crime scene for legal reasons. Gordon also mentions that the graves have been getting to him with “I’ll be honest though, I’m glad of the break. Taking up all these graves is starting to get to me a bit. I almost feel sorry for doing it. The waves are so close and getting closer. If I were a sailor buried here, I’d take some comfort in that. As you can see I’m getting morbid. Short break will do us all some good I think. Will update you when I hear word.” These feelings seem like they could relate to either The Vast, The Buried, or The End with the themes of coffins and being buried in a grave potentially tying into The Buried or End but the vast ocean possibly connecting to The Vast. But let’s keep going.

David starts acting weird and Gordon asks Alison to give David a nudge for the sake of the project. “He’s still working on that body we found and he’s stopped responding to my emails. I got him on the phone, but to be honest he doesn’t sound like he’s in any real rush to complete the job and while he’s worrying about salt water and tattoos, we’re out here sat on our hands and I’m paying the lads by the day. It’s almost enough to make you dream of sailing away for real. Like that poor fella’s tattoo. Saying that, I had another look at the photos David attached and I’m starting to think I might have been wrong about it. When I first looked, I thought it was hopeful, a crew sailing towards the sunrise. But looking again, the sun is lower than I thought, and there’s a shape in the water behind the ship. I think they’re being chased by something. Creepy eh?” So Gordon’s dream of sailing away could potentially point to The Lonely, especially given that the Entity also has a connection to the ocean and ships with Peter Lukas and the Tundra, but the whole being chased could relate to The Hunt. While Entities do chase things all the time I could see the fear of sharks or some large sea creature attempting to chase you as potentially relating to The Hunt. However, it could also potentially relate to The Vast with the idea of something massive lurking in the water, like a kraken or whale. There’s also an argument for something like The Dark with something emerging in the night as the sun sets. Well, assuming that the sun in the tattoo is setting and not rising.

And here’s where the tattoo thing comes up again. Gordon says “Oh, and speaking of tattoos, you remember you wanted an update on local sentiment about the move? Well, I don’t know if this counts as resistance – hell, I don’t even know if they’re local – but there’s someone started poking around the site asking questions. Big snake tattoo up their arm and a bunch of other ink. Wouldn’t give their name, but claims to be a big deal “online”. Don’t really know what that means, but they’ve been asking questions about the body.” The person with the “big snake tattoo” up their arm has a description that almost perfectly matches Ink5 from episode 2 (Making Adjustments). When Daria describes Ink5oul (Pronounced Inksoul) she notes that they had “an absolutely gorgeous floral serpent design running up their arm and into their neck that was so vivid it looked ready to slither off their skin and onto the chair.” It’s clear that Ink5 probably has an interest in tattoos, like the one Gordon saw on the body. This person also mentions that they are a big deal online, which would be true if this is Ink5 since we know that Ink5 is a famous tattoo artist online and even does streams. This could even explain why the person in question didn’t give their name since if it was Ink5 we are only aware of their online username. Gordon even mentions that Ink5 said “...the tattoo is an “Oscar Jarrett”, and that’s a big deal to some folks in that community – something to with Sutherland Macdonald whoever that is. Dunno if that’s quite what you were worried about but thought you’d want to know.”

`I did some light research and Oscar Jarrett doesn’t seem like a style or type of tattoo. Which points to the idea that Oscar is a person. Considering all the tattoos we are saying Oscar might be comparable to Smirke in some ways. In the sense that in the same way there was special Smirkean architecture there could be special Jarettian tattoos if that makes any sense. Tattoos that are designed to have supernatural effects of some kind. It’s also possible that Oscar simply learned and taught some kind of supernatural technique, kind of like the techniques that The Boneturner’s Tale could grant someone in TMA or how Martin sort of ended up learning how to “disappear” by following Peter Lukas’ attempt to connect him to The Lonely. Oscar Jarrett and Ink5 are definitely people to look out for in the future. Sutherland Macdonald surprisingly did yield actual search results. He is apparently “a prominent English tattoo artist in the late 19th century and early 20th century, and the first tattooist in Britain with an identifiable premises open to the public.” This makes Sutherland notable for the same reason someone like Smirke might have been in TMA. A historical figure who somehow learned and / or spread knowledge about the Entities. Again, it’s possible that there are Macdonald style tattoos in the same way there is Smirke style architecture. It could also be that the Oscar Ink5 is referring to is in fact the body with the tattoo that Gordon found and Gordon just doesn’t know what they are referring to. It could also be that there are multiple tattoo artists or Oscar is some student or follower of Sutherland in the same way people like Jonah, Maxwell Rayner, and Mordechai Lukas all had a connection to Smirke via being students or associates. In some characters even explicitly got the idea of possible rituals from Smirke and his research, despite the fact that most weren’t concerned with Smirke’s ideals of balancing the Powers.

Gordon considers calling the police on Ink5 due to how much the tattoo artist seems to be creeping Gordon and their team out but Gordon decides not to as to avoid potential backlash from the public. Gordon’s next email involves him giving condolences in regards to David, which implies that the reason he was taking so long with the reports was due to an untimely death at some point. I wonder if David’s death was related to something he came across on the bodies? It could be that there was some artifact or one of the bodies was actually alive? It could also be that if something is indeed up with the tattoos then the tattoos themselves may have had some sort of effect on David? Did Ink5 kill David? Was David the person Mr. Bonzo was sent to target in order to create some sort of opening for Ink5?

Gordon apologizes for the perceived unprofessionalism and says “My thoughts and opinions on maritime matters will no longer be included in my emails. In addition, I should be most grateful if you could see fit to provide myself with appropriate authorisations to contact the medical examiner’s offices to follow up with the cadaver that has been causing such consternation.” Based on Gordon’s next email it seems like Alison thought Gordon was making fun of them or acting condescending since Gordie states “Look, I was not “making fun of you” but I’m not sure what you want. I’m emailing an employer about my work and am getting accused of my emails being “unprofessional”. That’s the best I can manage. I haven’t been sleeping much recently. Weird dreams. Shapes in the water and that. And before you say that it’s “unprofessional” to tell you that I’m just giving an explanation, That’s all. I need you to contact the examiner again, he’s dragging his feet. Besides, I want to see the body again. I dug him up, he’s my responsibility. I just need to see it. I need to know what’s in the water.” Considering the possible change in behavior I wonder if Alison encountered something that made them scared and afraid of people not taking them seriously. I wouldn’t be surprised if Alison and / or David get their own statements in the future.

Gordon also mentions a lack of sleep due to “Weird dreams. Shapes in the water and that.” and also mentions “Besides, I want to see the body again. I dug him up, he’s my responsibility. I just need to see it. I need to know what’s in the water.” This desire to know and see something actually parallels an Entity like The Eye. The Eye, as I end up saying in every article, isn’t merely the fear of being watched but also being the watcher or seeing something you don’t want to. In MAG 200 The Eye is mentioned as having been born from the fear of one’s eyes showing them too much, and Gertrude mentions that The Eye is connected to a desire to know and understand even if in trying to do so you get hurt in the process. These themes also explain why Jonah can force information into the heads of people like Melanie and Martin. It’s the idea of knowing too much or being forced to witness things. Due to this The Eye also has a connection to, and tendency for cultivating, curiosity. Jonah mentions doing so to Jon with certain statements and we know he purposefully left files and information out to stoke Rosie’s more “nosy” personality traits. The Institute itself also sort of acts like bait for The Eye by attracting people looking for answers or closure via the information in its Archives or statements. Jon can also force people to give statements and thus make them relive and recount terrible events so that he can listen to them.

I’m bringing this up now because while I don’t think that what Gordon is going through is connected to The Eye the themes I am talking about will come up later anyway. Entities like The Eye also like to try to prey on the curiosity of people. I’m not saying Gordon is unjustified in being curious (even if I do find some of the behavior obviously strange) but that certain Entities have a precedent for preying on certain emotions or behaviors (like the desire to chase for The Hunt or anger for The Slaughter. No matter how justified that behavior may or may not be doesn’t always matter). You could also potentially relate some other parts of the statement to themes of The Eye. Most notably, the fear that protestors or other people might be observing the dig site, and the fear of being judged by the public. You could even point to Gordon sharing “too much” info to Alison with all the weird thoughts he’s having. Well, Alison seems to not like it, I’m not trying to say Gordon is crossing any sort of technical line or is even unjustified.

Gordon’s next email is titled “Examiner’s office break in” and Gordon insists that it was not him who broke into the examiner’s office and that Ink5 did it. “I saw them hanging around the office when I was waiting. Waiting so long just to see it, just to know what’s in the water. And they took it. They think they’re smart, but I saw them I know where they’re staying and if they think they deserve it they’re wrong. It belongs to the deep. I’m going to go get it and I’m going to find it and if they try and stop me I swear the ocean will claim us all. I can taste the salt and spray. It’s waiting in the water.” Once again a desire to know what’s in the water and the fact that Gordon is defensive of the idea that they might have broken into the office shows that Gordon is afraid what they said earlier about wanting to obtain the bodies might paint them as a suspect. The statement ends with

To: Alison Leshi ([email protected])

From: Gordon J ([email protected])

Date: January 20th 2020.

Subject: Re: Re: Examiner’s office

break-in

There was a problem delivering your

message to “[email protected]”

This email address is no longer in

service.

This statement is a little interesting because it feels like a lot of the stuff is more passive or in the background. For example, while Gordon is perturbed, Ink5 doesn’t attack or tattoo them directly. Gordon’s thoughts and feelings about the water could connect to various Entities. Most notably, all the water stuff could connect to the Vast, Buried, or Lonely. All 3 of these Entities have a notable connection to either water or the ocean. The Vast via the fear of large things with the immensity of the ocean as well as the things the could be in it, The Buried with the feeling of drowning or being trapped / crushed underwater, and The Lonely via boating and how isolated being alone on the open ocean can make you. Gordon’s desire to sail away could relate to The Lonely or The Vast while his comment about wanting to be Buried in the graveyard could be connected to well… The Buried. Not to mention his desire to put the supposed corpse back where it belongs, in the grave, could also relate to The Buried.

If I had to pick the most likely Entities here I would argue The Buried and Vast. If I had to chose between the two I would have to say the Buried. The Vast does have an emphasis on the depp ocean, and Simon Fairchild even attempted to perform a ritual using a submarine and the deep ocean, but Gordon’s desire to bury the bodies seems at least somewhat similar to Hezekiah Wakely in MAG 152 (A Gravedigger’s Entity) and his desire to make sure that people stay in their graves. In the statement Hezekiah mentions “To my mind there are far worse fates. But he has in his head an idea to begin fitting the graves I dig with these new “safety bells” that he has heard of, so that any as might be alive below ground might signal us above for rescue. I dread the idea. If it had been me in that coffin, destined for the peace below ground, I can think of little that I would hate more than the jarring, clanging of a bell pulling me from my rest.” and he also mentions weird dreams with “I had a dream, then. I dreamt a rain had come. A terrible bitter rain that chilled my bones and turned the soil around me dark and sodden. The walls grew damp and slippery, their firm shape lost as they began to slip and crumble. And then all at once they collapsed, the grave filling in a moment with a wave of mud and wet dirt. In a single terrible moment of utter terror, it was atop and around me, covering my face and filling my lungs with its awful choking sod.”

While the emphasis on the deep could easily relate to The Vast, one of The Buried’s nicknames is actually “Forever Deep Below.” So someone referring The Buried as “The Deep” or something similar would not be without precedent, especially given its connection to drowning, being trapped underwater, and deep water in general. Gordon also says “It belongs to the deep. I’m going to go get it and I’m going to find it and if they try and stop me I swear the ocean will claim us all. I can taste the salt and spray.” which could imply that in a way they believe the ocean will bury everything. You could easily relate some of this to The Vast with the idea that the ocean has existed longer and will outlast the erosion of the land.

One part I actually really liked in TMA, despite how little it came up overall, is all the different names people would use to refer to the same Entity(s). So I wonder if, assuming the existing Entities are around in some capacity, Entities like The Buried will be referred to with different names in the Protocol universe. It wouldn’t surprise me if people started referring to an Entity like The Buried as “The Deep” for example due to the idea of being trapped deep underground or in the ocean.

Like always, there are some overlapping themes that seem similar to other Entities. The tattoo possibly depicting sailors getting chased could relate to The Hunt, I already mentioned some possibilities with The Eye, and the emphasis on graves, and dead bodies could parallel The End.

Ink5's appearance in this statement is forcing me to consider some things. I maintain that the statement in episode 2 screams “This is The Flesh”, or at least something similar to that Entity, and I believed Ink5 to be connected to The Flesh. But I remember someone also raising the idea that the effects of Ink5 tattoos could vary, which I considered a very likely possibility since Ink5 doesn’t start tattooing until they are inspired by Daria mentioning that they are an artist. Implying that Ink5 was working off of inspiration and what they make and potentially even the effects of the tattoos could vary from person to person. If this is true that could mean Ink5 is more like Smirke and isn’t directly connected to (or loyal to) a single Entity, or Ink5 could be connected to multiple Entities somehow. Maybe the specific tattoo they gave Daria was connected to The Flesh in the same way Smirke’s architecture was connected to the Entities in a way Smirke himself wasn’t always. It’s still very possible that Ink5 somehow is connected to The Flesh but is also capable of interacting with aspects of other Entities somehow.

We cut back to the OIAR office and Sam also notices the topic of tattoos having come up again and asks Alice if there is a way to cross reference cases.

ALICE

“And? You already know the page to check the scores.”

SAM

“Yeah… but I just thought it might be worth noting somewhere that they might be linked. There’s this tattooist, and I think they might be”

ALICE

“What have I told you about thinking?”

SAM

“Don’t?”

ALICE

“That’s right.” Alice sighs.

ALICE

“(cont.) I don’t think there’s any way to mark cases as connected. They all come in standalone, that’s just how it works.”

Once again Alice’s whole “don’t think about it” vibe. I would argue the whole idea of “ignorance is bliss” and how knowing too much can hurt or scare you often relates to The Eye. I would argue that the OIAR or the computers are probably connected to The Eye, given all the statements and other stuff I mentioned previously, but I’m not saying Alice or Sam are secret Eye Avatars or something. What I'm trying to say is that The Eye likes to prey on certain behaviors, such as curiosity or a desire for answers, and Alice and Sam might have these traits. We know, for example, that Jon and Tim both ended up at the Institute because they were looking for answers about an encounter they had previously.

Alice sighing and then proceeding to honestly indulge Sam’s question is interesting and I think is another implication that Alice is probably more curious than she lets on. Realistically, she has probably been burned from having a similar mindset to Sam or seeing someone else asking too many questions but she consistently ends up indulging Sam’s curiosity or giving honest answers anyway, instead of simply shutting it down and moving on. There have also been times where Alice is noted as listening to something in the transcripts “despite herself.” Implying that sometimes she can’t help herself or her curiosity gets the better of her.

All the cases being sent in standalone sort of parallels the Institute in TMA and how disorganized the Archives were when Jon was using them (due to Gertrude). Even in TMA the statements would sometimes have recurring characters but they weren’t organized by topic or people involved in the case. The most we tend to get about the organization system of the statements is that it’s usually just sorted by date (which could be confusing if two statements have the same date) and sometimes follow-ups on cases were performed for more info and context. So obtuse organization systems that make it harder to connect various details or events aren’t unusual for TMA.

I also once again have to wonder if Sam is being shown certain events on purpose in order to stoke his curiosity or to get him to do certain things. I find the idea that literally every statement is random to be dubious but that doesn’t mean literally every statement is handpicked. Which makes me wonder, once again, what Sam and co’s jobs are meant to accomplish. Are they just supposed to be “an archive of fear” and witness terrible events or someone someone / something doing anything with the information or statements they are given or categorize?

Gwen enters the room and she seems to be in pretty bad shape since Alice says “Christ on a peddlebike, what happened to you?” and Gwen says “(setting up at her desk) Tube was delayed. Points failure.” Gwen also mentions that she had trouble sleeping, but Alice doesn’t seem to waste any time making fun of Gwen despite Gwen’s sorry state. Alice doesn’t seem to spare Gwen any of the concern she has shown characters like Sam and Colin. Sam tries to get Alice to ease up on Gwen but Alice doesn’t seem to let off the ribbing. Gwen eventually notices the third coffee Alice had gotten for Celia but mistakenly assumes that the third cup of coffee was for her.

GWEN

“(cont’d) (surprised) Hang on, did you get me a coffee?”

ALICE

“Uhh…

SAM

“Yeah. You like mocha?”

GWEN

“Yes. She takes the coffee carefully.’

GWEN

“Thank you, Alice.’

ALICE

“I… Sure. Whatever. Don’t get used to it. A slightly awkward silence.’

This interaction makes me wonder about some of the aspects of their relationship. Celia bursts into the room and Gwen grills her for being late (despite the irony of Gwen herself running late).

CELIA

“Sorry, sorry! I know, I know – there was an emergency at home I had to I’m sorry I’m late!”

GWEN

“Do you have any idea what the time is?”

ALICE

“I’m sorry, are you joking right now?”

GWEN

“I have responsibilities now, Alice. I need more of an explanation than just a “home emergency”.”

ALICE

“You arrived literally one minute ago!”

GWEN

“And I gave a full explanation for my lateness. Which, I might add, I didn’t actually need to do for a subordinate.’

CELIA

“It’s fine really’

ALICE

“No, it’s not. You don’t owe her anything! In fact, you should take her coffee as reparation.’

CELIA

“One of my radiators sprung a leak and flooded the lounge.’

GWEN

“I see. Well that’s understandable but don’t let’s make a habit of it shall we?”

CELIA

“Of course.’

GWEN

“See, that wasn’t so painful, was it Alice?’

Alice takes a breath for a devastating putdown.

SAM

“Let it go.”

ALICE

exhales and sips her coffee instead.

GWEN

“Luckily, I don’t think Lena’s noticed, so you should be ok. She’s not as laid back as I am.”

Alice chokes a little.

CELIA

“Good to know.”

GWEN

“Great, well if that’s everything you all really should get to work otherwise you’ll never get out of here. Don’t let me keep you.”

ALICE

“(muttered) I’d like to see you try…”

GWEN

“(already departing) I’ll be in Lena’s office if you need me. She walks off.”

CELIA

“You ok, Alice? It honestly doesn’t bother me.”

ALICE

“I can’t believe she drank your mocha!”

So it kind of seems like Gwen is immediately letting her new promotion go to her head a bit and has already taken the role of a stern boss. However, based on Gwen’s reaction when talking with Lena later and how shaken she is from Mr. Bonzo, it’s very likely that this is Gwen’s way of coping or trying to deal with stress and fear (not that it’s at all healthy). Gwen’s behavior seems to rub Alice the wrong way, especially since it easily comes off as hypocritical since Gwen was also running late. The only difference being that Gwen is now Celia’s superior. This whole situation makes me wonder if any particular person is specifically at fault for Gwen and Alice’s sour relationship. Sure, Alice does come off as extremely mean to Gwen but I wonder if Gwen did something in particular, tried to strong arm Alice, or something else.

Gwen does appreciate the hypothetical gesture of Alice buying her coffee and it’s weird that despite all their bickering Gwen seems to immediately assume that the fact the coffee is for her and from Alice is a likely possibility. I wonder if Gwen has a different view of their relationship or just doesn’t care? In a previous episode Gwen mentions that Alice left “talkers” on to mess with her but I wonder if Alice simply left the statements running so she wouldn’t have to listen to the voices talking and Gwen merely assumed it had to do with her. This could point to the possibility that Gwen has a bad habit of assuming things are about her sometimes or even being a bit self-centered but I’m not sure. It is still possible Alice did in fact leave talkers to mess with her. I wonder if they had a more amicable relationship in the past? I also if Gwen does genuinely think of herself as being more lenient or forgiving than Lena and, by extension, sees herself as tossing Celia a bone.

Gwen leaves the others to their work and goes to talk with Lena. Gwen is clearly upset by her encounter with Mr. Bonzo. Gwen insists that the thing she saw couldn’t have been Mr. Bonzo because Bonzo is just a character played by a guy in a suit. Not to mention that the Mr. Bonzo at Nigel’s house apparently had skin, and appeared both sagging and sweaty. Lena assures Gwen that this was in fact Mr. Bonzo by saying “...He is one of our Externals” and “I’ll grant you that Mr. Bonzo is one of our more… obviously grotesque Externals but I assure he is a valued asset.” This implies that not all the Externals the OIAR works with are as monstrous as Mr. Bonzo. Which could mean that the organization works with various Avatars and Monsters, or at least some of the Monsters they do work with are more humanoid (similar to how the Distortion took on the appearance and personalities of people like Michael and Helen).

GWEN

I thought he was going to kill me!

LENA

“But he didn’t, which means you’ve passed the first part of your probation. Congratulations. Did you scream?”

GWEN

“What? No!”

LENA

“You should. It really helps one cope with the more affronting aspects of the job. And they usually like it.”

GWEN

“What was in that envelope I gave him?”

LENA

“A name and an address.”

GWEN

“But for who?”

LENA

“I’m sure you’ve already worked that out. But just in case you haven’t, keep an eye on the case loads over the next few days. It should become abundantly clear.”

GWEN

“I don’t understand.”

LENA

“Yes, you do.”

GWEN

“But… why?”

LENA

““Why” comes later. For now, it’s best you try to process the “what”. I’ll let you know when I have another liaison assignment for you.”

GWEN

“(defeated) I… Ok.”

Gwen opens the door.

LENA

“Oh, and Gwen?”

GWEN

“Yes?”

LENA

“Get some sleep. You look dreadful. Gwen closes the door.”

So here, Lena outright admits that Gwen could’ve died. Last episode I wondered if Nigel apologized to Gwen in case Gwen ended up hurt or killed. Lena’s comment about screaming confirms once again that the Entities are probably still feeding off of fear. We know from TMA that while a lack of fear can keep you safe, displaying fear only for it to wane overtime can cause the Entities followers or monsters to get bored or unsatisfied and just attack you directly if they know that doing so will make you scared.

The fact that Lena says that Gwen should know who’s address and name was in the letter given to Bonzo makes me wonder. It’s possible Lena knows that Gwen simply checked the letter out of curiosity or came across some statement with clues. It’s also possible that at least some of the statements the OIAR gets are somehow related to the organization’s Externals. Lena even says “I’m sure you’ve already worked that out. But just in case you haven’t, keep an eye on the case loads over the next few days. It should become abundantly clear.” Which could imply that at least some of the statements Gwen and her coworkers (I mean subordinates) sift through could have to do with the OIAR’s externals. Maybe it’s the OIAR’s way of following up on their agents or checking the results of their assignments? Or maybe it’s how the OIAR decides where and when to send their Externals? It could also just be The Eye feeding off of the fear present in statements again (something we know it’s prone to do). It could be that the Externals do their job and The Eye or some other Entity squeezes some extra fear out of what they do by archiving things related to the job. Is the OIAR working with others to try to start another mass ritual, or is it trying to stop possible rituals? Maybe their goal has something to do with some of the alchemical symbols present in TMP (such as the logo)?

Lena comes off as extremely cold in this interaction and it’s clear that Lena’s earlier assessment of Gwen might be right, Gwen is not at all prepared for this and doesn’t exactly know what she’s getting into. But this also makes me wonder what happened to the previous Externals Liaison. Did they die? Did they get promoted / demoted? Are there other Liaisons Gwen hasn’t met yet? If there aren’t who was communicating with things like Mr. Bonzo before Gwen took the position? Was Lena just delivering the letters herself? As always, there’s a lot of questions.

Conclusion

There’s a lot of stuff up in the air but currently whatever is going on with the Externals has grabbed my curiosity the most. Mostly in regards to what they could be doing and why. Is Ink5 an External? Was Mr. Bonzo sent to take care of David to make an opening for Ink5 or was Mr. Bonzo sent somewhere else that will show up in a later statement? Most of the stuff I say are possibilities I’m raising but my current guesses about what’s going on are 1. Smirke’s 14 is still around in some capacity (The Extinction could be too, but there’s no evidence one way or the other for that Entity being around) and these Entities are probably the same ones from TMA (if not they are extraordinarily similar) 2. Celia is probably from the TMA universe or at least has some connection to it 3. The OIAR is probably connected to an Entity like The Eye 4. For whatever reason the OIAR (and potentially other parts of the government) are working with various factions tied to the Entities. Whether they are using these monsters and people to fight more dangerous threats or for some other reason I cannot say. Maybe they are trying to set up a new ritual where all the Entities hold equal power? Or maybe they are actually trying to stop future rituals / threats? Who knows.

#TMA #TMAGP #The Magnus Archives #The Magnus Protocol #Theory

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spectrumed · 3 years ago

Text

2. voice

As a child I could not pronounce the letter R. I once complained to my mother for being so careless as to give me a name that had two R’s in it. Fredrik. Or as I pronounced it back then, “Fledlik.” Cute, right? I was a cute child, all blonde and with big blue eyes. At one point, I got surrounded by a group of older girls who forced me to pronounce my name, even though I really couldn’t. They laughed and laughed, teasing me for my inability to pronounce even my own name correctly. If I ever had a reason to develop a fetish for femdom, I think this would have been it.

Like it or not, in speech, there is no room for individual quirks. No, we’ve all got to learn how to speak properly. Historically, that has led to some pretty heinous attitudes towards regional accents, any tongue that was the standard was seen by default as being less or developed and intelligent. Regional accents were seen as practically unhygienic, the worry being that if people just got to speak as they wished, they might end up potentially thinking dangerous thoughts. While I understand the importance of being understood, it’s clear that the stigma that exists around speech difficulties stems from a place of prejudice. If a person has a lisp, do you really struggle to understand them? And while stammering can be quite debilitating, it should be blatantly obvious that shaming people who stammer, suggesting that they are bereft of intelligence, is not the way to help them. Humans are social animals, and language may be the one thing that distinguishes us as a species, it is natural that proper elocution should be treasured. But some people do struggle with their speech, and that should not cost them any respect or kindness.

As a child, I didn’t speak nearly enough. As an adult I am speaking too much. That’s the problem with you, Fredrik, you’ve never understood that there is a middle ground between two extremes. There is a way you can speak that is neither too quiet, nor too loud. It is how normal people speak. Why can’t you be normal, Fredrik? Are you going to spend this whole blog post talking about how difficult it is for you to simply learn to be like everyone else? Self-pitying yourself, much? Back in my day people pulled themselves up by their bootstraps, if they had something they struggled with, they learned to sort it all out, and they didn’t start complaining about society being all mean to them. You’re just spending too much time inside your own head, go take a swim, take up a hobby that requires you to step outdoors, it will serve you well. Don’t be a freak, Fredrik. Be normal, for once.

On a side note, “pulling yourself up by your bootstraps” is meant to be understood as an impossible feat. You can’t possibly pull yourself up by your bootstraps, it’s ludicrous to even suggest that such a thing may be feasible. While, yes, there are many things you can do to help yourself, ultimately, you can’t profoundly escape from a sorry situation you’ve found yourself in without some outside help. There is no shame in requiring help. To guilt someone into thinking that if they can’t do it alone, they are weak, is frankly sociopathic. Humans need each other, we take care of each other, we are there for each other. Self-sufficiency is great, but let’s not take it to levels of absurdity by suggesting that needing help from others is anything but normal. No-one succeeds in life without others there to prop them up. Instead of telling someone to pull themselves up by their bootstraps, you might as well tell them to go and swallow the sun, which is clearly another impossible task.

Most people will never in their lives experience what it is like to go through a neuropsychological evaluation. Turns out that it is not always such a pleasant experience. Though, considering the popularity of pseudo-scientific nonsense like the Myers-Briggs test, I am sure some folks would lie and pretend to love it. Certainly, there is a charm to being there and talking about yourself for several hours near-uninterrupted, but the exhaustion that you will feel at the end of it cannot be understated. Naturally, it does vary between who does it, and why they’re doing it. But if the stated goal is to find out whether you’ve had a neurodevelopmental disorder since you were but a young babe, then of course, there are going to be some pretty long conversations happening about those early days. Lots of stuff you may not have considered or thought about in a very long time will suddenly become very relevant to your current situation. And at the end of it all, you get some papers detailing your fashionable new diagnosis. Your entire life, all written down. Can make you feel rather wistful. And there’s really quite a surprising amount of typos included in the text, and barely any jokes.

Still, as part of my official diagnosis, there is a reference to my speech at being at times “stilted.” Though, the diagnosis does take very good care to mention that I appear intelligent and thoughtful, exhibiting a wide vocabulary and a good sense of the right words to use at the right moment. It’s flattering, for the most part. Yet, it does irk me that I could be perceived as being stilted. I know that at this point, I am being petty, because who cares if I sometimes come across as maybe a little robotic. I’ve got Asperger’s. Of course I am a robot. The closest role model we folks with Asperger’s ever had for the longest time was Star Trek: The Next Generation’s android named Data. God forbid anyone like me ever turned out to be the protagonist of a series, we’re all doomed to play the part of the robot, the alien, or the socially awkward geek. I should just be delighted that I am high-functioning. I know how much worse some have it. I should be grateful and pleased that I come across as mostly normal, mostly neurotypical. But… I really just don’t want anyone to think my speech is stilted. I don’t want to be Data. I want to be Riker.

It is never enough, you’ll never be good enough. If you fake it, they’ll see through it. If you struggle and if you work honestly to appear more normal, they won’t recognise it. As soon as they get an inkling you may be an imposter, looking like them, but having a neurologically deviant brain, they’ll single you out. For you, normalcy is an illusion. To attempt to be normal is to remake yourself only to receive nothing. Sure, you can be disingenuous, pretend you're not yourself, but it’ll never fool them. In the end, you’ll only lose yourself. Maybe I should just own the fact that my speech sometimes comes across as being stilted. Maybe I should own it. Be proud of who I am. But… sometimes I just don’t want to be me.

I want to be ignored. Sometimes, not always. But that goes for everyone. But most of all, I’d like to be able to go unseen whenever I’m not trying to impress anyone. When I’m just off to buy some milk. When I’m sitting on the bus. When I’m walking through the park. I know it is partly paranoia, but I can’t help but feel like I stick out. It’s always been like that with my friends growing up. The metaphor I used with my therapist is that I felt like a thumb. That they, my friends, were the fingers and I was the thumb. Sure, we’re similar. In many ways we’re the same. You could even say that I was crucial to making the social dynamics work. Who doesn’t like the thumb? What would you do without your thumb? But still, I was different. Some people would do anything to be different like that, to feel special. Some folks feel all invisible and forgotten in the crowd, and I’d lie if I told them that I didn’t envy them sometimes. The ability to go all invisible? That seems swell! There’s this question people like to ask as a sort of personality test. If you could choose a superpower, would you rather be able to fly, or would you rather be able to go invisible? The answer is obvious, as far as I’m concerned. Of course I’d love to be able to go invisible. To be able to exist without anyone seeing me. Without anyone judging me. Without ever having to worry if someone is going to treat me as different. For a moment to feel what it is like not to be some big, dumb, stupid, thumb.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not too anguished. Nowadays, I feel like I am in a relatively good place. But I would be lying if I told you that I still don’t get frustrated at the plethora of difficulties I face just trying to blend in. Even with family members, people who are supposed to know you the best, even then I have to go out of my way to behave a certain way, to exist a certain way, because fundamentally, they just don’t seem to get you. Not in that way. They have an image of you that you need to try and match. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell them that sometimes you need to be more direct in your communication to truly reach me, I don’t pick up on the many smaller little social cues they may throw my way, it’s still just me being silly and looking for excuses for why I didn’t understand them the first time around. And I am deathly afraid of hurting anyone’s feelings. A very prevalent misconception about autistic individuals is that we don’t care if we’re being rude. That if we are rude, our rudeness can simply be overlooked because, y’know, we’re autistic. While this sort of thing is commonly represented in media that is supposed to depict autistic characters, in real life, things don't quite work like this. Believe it or not, readers, being autistic is not a free pass to act like a dick. Autistic individuals still very much have to modulate our behaviour if we wish to fit in and be accepted. No-one will ever excuse you for being autistic. To be autistic is living with extra hurdles in your way, thinking that it’s anything but a social handicap is romanticising a diagnosis you clearly know very little about.

When I was a kid, I didn’t speak much. As far as I was concerned, I merely spoke whenever I needed to speak. It took until adulthood for me to learn that my parents and teachers were actually concerned about that. I was made to see a specialist, under the guise of learning elocution, but I’ve later come to realise that those meetings were about more than just learning to pronounce the letter R. Like, what does testing my memory have to do with diction? Yes, her job was partly to help my speech develop more in line with the other kids, but she was also there to evaluate whether or not I was intellectually disabled. I have come to learn that I had teachers at the time that were adamant about me going to a different school, more equipped to handle kids like me, but my mother vehemently defended my right to stay in the school I was in. After all, I did have friends, and to anyone who really knew me, they knew that I was a bright child. Sure, I wasn’t as communicative as the other children, but I clearly had no issues processing information, and it’s not like I was disruptive in some other way. But that was also part of the problem. The teachers that thought that I may need specialist schooling were concerned about the fact that I was too placid and too agreeable. They wanted me to express frustration at my lacking pronunciation, to see me get mad at others for not fully understanding me. That amazes me, if anything. The fact that I was a happy kid they took as some indication that I wasn’t quite right.

My mother delights in a memory of me as a kid once slamming my fist on the table and declaring that “now, I am speaking!” May I remind you that I was a cute kid. Sure, it is the sort of behaviour that parents of the old times would have spanked their kids for. Kids in the past were supposed to be quiet. To be seen, but not heard. I wonder if there’d be any kind of hubbub about my early development if I lived back then. I’d probably be seen as the ideal child, all pretty and docile and never too loud. Still, it was a moment my mother cherished, because for once, I really proved that I did have the capacity to speak. Though, I still couldn’t pronounce my R’s. But it was time for Fledlik to speak.

#neurodiversity #neurodivergent #autism spectrum disorder #autism #aspergers #mental health

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jovalencia · 4 years ago

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we all knew this was coming and I’m a sentimental bitch. I just wanted to write all my mutuals some little messages about how much I love you. you guys have changed my life and I am so grateful for each and every one of you!!!💕💞💓💗💖💘 anygays have fun searching for yourself in this mess and I’m sorry for any typos, I’m illiterate (and if i forgot you it’s because i lost my brain in 1912)

@cr1spyy fernanda, my first ever mutual. who would have thought that your 5th wave posts would have brought one of the most amazing people in my life to me. your posts always make me laugh and your dedication to the good morning asks is admirable (fr I could never have that much consistency) you’re so kind to everybody and you’re absolutely beautiful and incredible and I fucking love you so much. I honestly don’t even want to think about what my life would be like if I had never met you, MWAH💕🤍

@sundaymorninghangover I remember you being my first ever note!! you liked this post I made that was a reblog of a “uquiz” that was actually a rickroll lmao. you didn’t even follow me back then but whatever. Then I remember waking up one day to see that you had tagged me in a bingo ask game and I was like “ummm tf is an ask game” but I do still have a bingo card for it that I never used ekenksjs. anygays, you have good opinions on everything and you’re absolutely fucking hilarious. If you told me back in may that I would be friends with you I wouldn’t believe it bc you intimidated me but regardless I’m glad to be an arson gang member with you. your memes are god tier and so is your music taste. I love you whore!!!!!🖤💜

@sound-and-colors ma’am you’re so nice and for what??? the aesthetic stuff that you reblog is *chef’s kiss* and nobody else is out there doing it like you. we’ve never talked but I just know that you are absolutely incredible mwah❤️💛

@embeddedinmybrain tasfia you are the nicest person on his hellsite and you know it (I hope). It was so much fun being your secret admirer anon while it lasted, like fr I loved it. Your art is beautiful just like your heart and i honestly don’t know what I did to deserve such a kind soul like you in my life. You’re always there to hype me up and ily (also just cut your own hair already I believe in you)🤍💙

@gumptin you hooked me with your suus icon and reeled me in by being the coolest and funniest person ever. your posts are consistently hilarious, accurate, or relatable and I admire that. I mean it when I say you’re one of the coolest people on here. idk what I did to have you think I’m cool but I’m honored nonetheless. also you have really awesome style and hair jdnjdjdjd mwah💚💛

@nori-in-pink first and foremost, your blog always has a very nice aesthetic and I feel like I need to acknowledge that. anyway, you are so kind and supportive and you don’t take any bullshit and that is absolutely amazing. you are absolutely iconic and always reblog the best stuff so I know I can count on your blog to be fantastic. you used to scare me (idk why don’t ask) but now I know that you’re just a big teddy bear ily💗💜

@matteohnora my slurpee queen and my mememate!! you always send me the funniest shit and it doesn’t go unappreciated. You’re always there for me with a silly meme or emotional support and I don’t think I’ve ever told you how grateful I am for that. whenever you stalk my blog it makes my heart go whooosh and I feel so special. Ily and I am so glad to have met you💜❤️

@lieverobbe ah yes, the girl with the impeccable music taste. that’s what I know you as, oh well. you are more talented and kind than you could ever believe and your edits are amazing!!! whenever I see you on my dash I get all happy bc I’m like “em’s here!!!” I love all your lil posts and I am so glad that you are my mutual ilyyyyy💙🤍

@ironymane you’ve watched limitless which automatically makes you amazing. you’re an absolutely incredible and amazing person and even tho you aren’t on here as much anymore, I still love youre lil posts. And one time you kept me entertained on a 6hr car ride so you deserve some kind of award for that. ly🧡💛

@kingarthurpendragons okay the obvious thing to talk about here is your incredible talent when it comes to gif making. Like how in the hell- but you are also so kind and loving and it doesn’t go unnoticed. You don’t have to send nice asks but you do and ily for it mwah!!❤️💗

@engelkeijsers the skam nl stan that we all deserve to have in our lives. you are so fucking hilarious and relatable and all around amazing and for what? your posts always put a smile on my face and it is so much fun to clown with you. ilyyyy💚💛

@happiness-isin-you let’s ignore the fact that it took me forever to realize that this was your main lmao. your art is some of the most beautiful shit I’ve ever seen. like your style is so cool???? I could literally go on about this for hours don’t test me. the cute animal pictures are the absolute best and you’re always there for emotional support. Ilyyyyyyy💛❤️

@isakyaqi fiz you are so kind and talented and cool and I really do mean all that. You reblog always the best of content so I know I can trust it. you always put nice tags in the things you reblog things and it’s fun to read what you write because it’s almost always you hyping up the creator or the thing itself. you are awesome jdjdjdndjjd mwah🖤🤎

@cash-queens sam oh sam. Idek where to start with how much ily. You’re my famous mutual which is very iconic of you and you put up with my cat pictures and my silly antics and my riverdale posts. You’re so kind to me and everybody and whenever I make a post when I’m having a mental breakdown you’re always there to make sure that I’m doing okay. That def doesn’t go unappreciated. You’re legitimately one of the kindest and most amazing people I’ve ever known and I love you so much, more than you could ever know💛🤍

@welcometo-saturn çağrı you’re so cool. end of statement. that’s all I have to say about it. your gifs are so beautiful and you don’t take shit from anybody. you’re so down to earth that it makes it seem like you’re somebody who I’ve just always known (even tho we’ve never talked sjdjdjdjdj) so yeah anyway, you’re are a really awesome person with really good opinions and I am so glad that we are mutuals🧡❤️

@amifeelingokay it’s difficult not to start with your url bc it’s amazing and I love it. your skam posts are always so nice and cute and positive (just like you!!) and I love them. the content you reblog is always aesthetic or a nice text post and I just love your blog okay. ily💜🖤

@isthatelpome you’re so nice that I’m willing to overlook your opinion on salt and vinegar chips (they’re not good I’ll fight you on that) your dani icon is beautiful just as you are, mwahhhh🧡❤️

@earthling-isa babe you are so cute with your lil edits and your clowning. the near constant black and white aesthetic is very iconic and i love it. you’re a suus stan so I have no choice but to love you for it. i absolutely adore your gifs, especially the ones with the lil squares in the middle fygzbgut. you are absolutely beautiful and incredible and kind and I love you MWAHHHH🖤💙

@grey-mist-exist okay we’ve never talked but you seem like such a rad person. not cool but like rad (there are are subtle differences) your art is beautiful even tho idk the quotes (go off smarty pants) and overall you are just really rad, idk how else to say it mwah!!!🤍🖤<pretend it’s a grey heart

@fatoudixon hey look it’s one of the most talented people here!!! You’ve always been so kind and supportive of me and I really really do appreciate it. you have good opinions on everything and did I mention that you’re talented?? cause you are, very. Your reaction videos are amazing and not to mention iconic, just like your hair. anyway, ily and I am so glad that I have somebody as amazing as you as my mutual💙💛

@sander-klaas you are so kind and and you have so much passion. I can always trust you reblog only the best of wtfock and sobbe content which I am very grateful for. you literally just started making gifs and they are so beautiful (okay it was like months ago but whatever dkdjdjjdjdj) anyway, thank you so much for being my mutual mwah❤️💛

@jusdekiwi okay we’ve never talked but you genuinely seem like such a sweet person??? I love the stuff you reblog, it’s always the best gif sets. idk I can just tell you have good taste. I hope to get to know you better in the future, but for now I am very grateful to have you💚💙

@kritiquer my twin!!! you and I have a lot in common so ofc I love you. I’m joking obviously.... anygays you are always so supportive of everybody and you are so sweet. I love all of your personal posts, it always makes me really happy to see what you’re up to and how you’re feeling. I also like the aesthetic stuff you reblog, I have bad taste in all that, clearly you don’t. I am so glad that we started talking and I hope that we continue! ily kit!!!!💜🤍

@bleachblondebitches you aren’t on here that much, but whenever you are I get so happy! Your gifs are beautiful and I think about your sobbe and booksmart parallels gifset every day. you have amazing taste in movies and I love you!💜💙

@lesbeanfatou clara!!! bitch!!!! You already know how much I love you but I guess I’ll reiterate. I honestly don’t know what I did before I knew you. I always remember looking at the no idea blog with the Nora icons like “who is this?” Little did I know back then that you would be one of my closest friends. your support of me means the world and I am so grateful for you. I’m so glad that I have somebody in my life like you to talk to and be friends with. you are one of the funniest people in and I just love you so much I could burst mwah❤️🧡

@gucciboner okay hiii ypu are literally so fucking kind and funny, i admire your sense of humor sm. your art is so beautiful and you are so goddamn talented, it never ceases to amaze me. I also love all the little funny posts you make and reblog!! ily💙💗

@helmtaryn even though you put supernatural on my dash, I am willing to forgive you bc I love you so much. your gifs are so beautiful like ma’am didn’t you just start?? icon shit. your hate for photoshop is iconic and you are awesome. you’re always sending me asks and responding to my posts and you’re so nice and it makes my heart go whooosh. anygays you’re cool and ily💙🧡

@starmansander nina when I tell you that you give off the best vibes- okay sorry I had to start with that. I love how you are so nice and supportive of me, it really means a lot. I really like the stuff you reblog like,,, cool art? pretty women? those hopeful little posts? iconic. also youre a noor stan which is a sign of good taste. love you🤎❤️

@ijzermanora daniiiiiii madam you are so epic and iconic and I really could go on about that forever. you are so kind and you’re following all my joke sideblogs (even the ch*cken l*ttle hate blog??? why???) which is very brave of you. I love reading all of your lil wholesome posts and hearing about school and how much you hate chemistry (even tho you like sushi???) anygays we were already sending memes 10 hours into our mutualship so I think we were soulmates from the very beginning. I love you so much and I have no idea what I did before i knew you💜💗

@alwaysin-myhead okay, you give off cool person vibes and I had to acknowledge that. your art is so beautiful and you are so incredibly talented!!! I hope to get to know you in the future🧡💛

@alexiaugustin here she is!!! the queen of good opinions!!! you are such a smart cookie and you use that power to make long paragraph posts that I can actually read without falling asleep. which is impressive honestly. never has a person been so kind and funny and genius in such a well rounded way (that makes no sense) I’m so happy that I have you in my life ilyyy💚💗

@ijntba hihi you’re such a sweet person and I literally love your skam blog sm. I am so honored that you’re using one of my icons you have no idea. even though I’m confused when you post about anime, I still appreciate your passion lmao. mwah💛🧡

@hidden-joy liz!! you are such a kind soul and I absolutely love looking at the things you reblog and reading all the nice things that you put in the tags, it’s always so sweet and supportive!!! we’re relatively new mutuals, but I do hope to get to know you better in the future!!!💚💛

okay sorry to group y’all together but @fudgetunblr and @alexiswoke I like just became mutuals with y’all but I do love you and I’m glad you’re here and I hope 2021 treats you well and that i get to know you better!!❤️❤️

aaand one last final message for max and sarah, i know yall wont see this but ily🧡 💜

okay yeah I know I already said this but I really do love each and every one of you so much and I am so lucky to have so many amazing people in my life💕💕💓💕💖💖💕💘💕💗💞💓💕💖💖💘💕💓

#MWAH💕#my mutuals are pretty fuckin rad #also don’t tell anyone but the hearts at the end are the colors I associate you with #or they’re as close as I could get #*makes this post*#*goes back to sleep*

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imagine-loki · 4 years ago

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The sniffles

TITLE: The sniffles CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: ONE SHOT AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump ORIGINAL IMAGINE:

After the Chitauri attack on New York, imagine Loki being sentenced to public service on Earth, specifically in aiding people who got hurt during the attack. His magic has been limited to only be enough to aid keeping Odin’s spell in place so he wouldn’t turn blue. His task is to help people with special needs, to do house chores, help them get around, do their grocery and keep them company while they recover. He is assigned to a girl who ended up blind after one of the Chitauri shot at her.

Imagine that against everything you both thought possible, Loki gets the flu.

RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS: It’s getting to be chilly season, so the flu is lurking about. Get your flu shots! Be careful! Socially distance! Language, maybe? Mostly fluff. Mentions of illness? (Do people tag that?) Not beta’d or edited, really–probs lots of typos.

SUMMARY: Loki gets sick, though he insists it’s just allergies. Charlie puts on her bossy pants and shows Loki she’s a bamf. Loki is a Nervous Nelly.

Loki had nearly frowned himself into an alternate dimension when it first happened–a simple sneeze. He had been sorting through some paperwork that Stark had asked him to complete, a mindless task meant to keep him occupied under the guise of his rehabilitation. With a shrug, Loki aired out the papers, assuming dust had tickled his nose for the briefest of moments, but thought nothing more of it.

Two years into his exile to Midgard and working under the tech guru, Loki had pretty much worked off his sentence in Tony’s eyes. According to anyone with half a brain, depriving Loki of his magic, the major condition of his exile, was punishment enough for the Prince (Loki would never admit that the act of cleaning a whole kitchen to perfection on his hands and knees was methodical and soothing, but it was one of the many joys of his near mortal existence). Still, it turned out that Stark was a bleeding heart and could recognize the tell-tale signs of a son who never got proper validation from their father (or enough hugs). It could have also been the fact that the former hissing-serpent-of-an-Asgardian all but turned into a golden retriever after he fell in love. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the fact that Stark was deathly afraid of the five-foot-nothing woman Loki now shared an apartment with, and who would most definitely cause him bodily harm for overworking her boyfriend.

All in all, within the constraints of this supposed punishment, everything was wonderful.

Then, Loki sneezed again.

And continued to do so.

But, of course, he wasn’t ill.

Achoo!

Charlie started, letting out a half-strangled shriek that soon turned into a groan as objects clattered on her desk. Her jaw clenched together so tightly, she thought her teeth would crack.

Now, Charlie wasn’t irritated that her dork alien of a boyfriend was sneezing in her presence while she was trying to get work done. No, she was irritated because she had sent him to bed (again, for the sixth time) twenty minutes ago when his fever and chills started to turn him into an unintelligible, hallucinating mess. She thought she had been quite clear in her order for him to get some rest. After all, it had been three days since Loki first sneezed, and though he had brushed it off as a bad case of seasonal allergies, his denial was starting to get ridiculous, not to mention, harmful.

Turns out thousand year old demigods-turned-mortal are no better at following orders than any other man on the planet. In fact, Charlie was pretty sure he was being more of a brat than any other mortal… not that she’d ever tell him.

Pushing away her keyboard, she stood away from the desk, taking a second to orient herself and stare in the general direction she had heard the sneeze come from.

She schooled her facial expression into what she hoped was a no-nonsense expression. “Go. Back. To. Bed.”

Loki grumbled, his voice particularly hoarse and gravelly with an added nasally quality from his blocked passages. “It’s allergies and I have things to do,” he retorted stubbornly, ignoring the fact that his whole world seemed to tilt ever-so-slightly with each step he took.

“Allergies, my ass. Loki Odinson, you have the flu. You belong back in bed. Don’t make me be the bad guy here.”

He let out a half-hearted snort, pretending that he did not at all feel the need to double over and repeat whatever little breakfast he was able to get down his gullet that morning. “I am not sick. I haven’t been sick in four centuries. Your sorry Midgardian microbes cannot infect me.”

“Yeah, when you had your full powers. Now, though–”

“I’m fine-d.”

It was a small, momentary miracle that Charlie wasn’t able to see the way he swayed on a spot, holding his head pathetically against the sudden bout of vertigo that assaulted him. At least he thought she couldn’t. Though Loki could not explain the fact that her hand grasped him by an elbow a moment later with what appeared to be no difficulty. Clearly he was off his game, and he didn’t even bother complaining when Charlie half-dragged him all the way to the sofa and forced him to sit.

He couldn’t help but smile at the brows knitted together in worry or the lower lip being chewed within an inch of its soft, supple life. The extreme gentleness and care she took in smoothing back his hair and pressing the back of her hand to his forehead made his stomach twist in the most pleasant way. This was the best antidote, he supposed, just watching her fuss over his shivering body. Loki certainly wasn’t used to being taken care of in this manner. It felt almost wrong to succumb to the desire of slumping into the pillows and letting her dote on him.

“I love you,” slipped from his lips before he was even aware that his brain had attempted to convey the message.

Charlie beamed in response, cheeks turning warm copper with a blush. Her fingers trailed down the sides of his face to cup his cheeks. “I love you, too, sweets, but if you don’t stay still and rest, I will put on Stark’s suit and make you.”

Loki smirked, twining one of her curls around his finger and letting it bounce back with a gentle tug. “Have I told you how attractive I find you when you get all bossy?”

“Only every single second this week, Lo.”

“Well, I firmly believe in truth-telling, dove,” he added, voice betraying the exhaustion that seeped into his bones. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought that the gentle circles she drew around his temples were some sort of ancient magic. “I’m late for work,” he protested, making an effort to sit back up. He would admit that they way Charlie shoved him back onto the cushions was a little distracting for two entirely different reasons: one, he was weak enough that Charlie could push him down like it was nothing; and, two… it was sort of… sexy. He would take them both to his grave.

“I called Tony and told him you were sick.”

Loki frowned. “What did he say?”

“He asked FRIDAY to queue up ”Ding dong! The witch is dead“,” she joked, lips tugging up in a smirk. “He said to take the week off. No one needs your Asgardian super bugs rolling around the Tower.” Charlie’s lips pressed against his forehead, followed immediately by a sigh. “You’re burning up again, Loki.”

“Everything hurts,” he conceded in a small voice, feeling like a failure when the concern etched in her features deepened further.

Charlie took in the complaint with a resolute nod.

“OK. I’ll go to the pharmacy down the street for some medicine and some electrolytes. You get some rest.” She patted his cheek and made to stand when Loki’s hand wrapped around her wrist.

“I’ll come with you.” He assured, at once, hoping the edge of nervousness wasn’t obvious in his voice.

“Nice try, super spreader.” Her fingers peeled his, dexterously. “No. Get some rest. I’ll be back in twenty.”

“But–”

“I promise you I will be fine, Loki. It’s nothing I haven’t done before.”

Loki was still reluctant as he watched her cool and confident expression. He shifted awkwardly. He knew that Charlie was entirely capable of any task and she had adapted well to the technology available to her as a non-seeing person, but… Norns, he was just a pathetic mess when it came to her. The thought of anything happening to her… “I know, but–”

“You worry. I understand, but this is important, Loki. You’re important and you’re sick and you need me to go get you medicine.”

He sighed, resting his forehead against her hand for a long moment before finding the courage to speak. “Just… be careful, alright? Maximum alertness, yeah?”

“I promise,” she assured in a whisper, leaning in to kiss his crown. “Please get some rest until I get back.” Her fingers were back to scratching his scalp, combing through his shaggy locks until he could no longer fight against the heaviness of sleep. He uttered half a protest before drifting off, leaving Charlie to cover him up with the spare blanket she kept on the sofa and tucking him in.

Charlie would not say that she was nervous about going out without Loki, but she was certainly not not nervous. She wrapped herself up warm to ward off the autumn chill and triple checked her belongings: keys, phone, card wallet, cane. Her head turned over her shoulder on instinct, as if attempting to spare a glance at Loki sleeping on the couch, before she closed the door behind her.

Loki awoke with a start what felt like an eternity later. His hair was sticking out in all directions and his clothes felt like they were pasted to his body with sweat. He was no longer on the couch, but in bed, and he felt… marginally better. Still, his heart was thumping loudly against his ribcage with a sense of uneasiness.

Charlie.

Where was Charlie?

“Oh, gods, please no.” It was too still. Too quiet. “CHARLIE!?” He called frantically, kicking the covers off of himself, despite the fact that his head disliked his sudden change in momentum. He grit his teeth against the nausea that rose immediately after. He needed to get out of bed and–

“Oh, you’re up!” Charlie chirped happily from the doorway.

His head snapped toward her voice to find her standing with a tray and very carefully balancing a bowl of soup, a sports drink and a bottle of water atop it. The grace with which she was managing to balance the liquids over the wooden serving tray was uncharacteristic–Charlie had never been particularly poised due to her impatience and going blind had not helped matters. After a minute, she placed the tray beside him on the bed and managed to sit down without any major spillage. Loki beamed at the satisfied look on her face and the anxiously flitting and hovering gaze she got when she was particularly excited.

“You’re back,” he breathed softly, fingertips trailing over the hand resting closest to him.

“I was only gone for fifteen minutes.” Charlie giggled. “Do you not remember taking your medicine and coming to bed?”

Loki shook his head before remembering his replies had to be aloud. “Er… no. No, I don’t.”

“You were pretty out of it,” she admitted, not thinking anything of it. “We had a lot of extra veggies, so I made you soup.”

He swallowed at the lump in his throat to no avail as he watched the perfectly cubed pieces of vegetables floating in a golden broth. He could practically feel her efforts radiating off the bowl with every plume of steam that rose enticingly. “You cooked?” His voice caught slightly.

“Yeah. Don’t tell me if it’s no good. It took me forever to chop things, so I might actually cry,” she replied, only half serious.

He picked up the bowl and tentatively sipped at the broth, letting out an involuntary moan when the rich taste flooded his taste buds. “Charlie, it… it’s perfect. It’s delicious.” The satisfied grin she gave in response made the remainder of his pain float away like dandelion fluff. He sipped some more before letting out a contented sigh as his bones warmed. “You are a wonder of wonders, Charlotte Camden.”

Charlie snorted. “I went to the pharmacy and managed not to burn down the apartment. I am middling, at best.”

“Say what you want, but I am proud of you,” he whispered, enjoying the blush on her cheeks as he slurped down the rest of his soup.

He knew she was secretly pleased with the praise, even if she didn’t admit it. Loki was aware that he worried all too much about giving her extra independence with all the what-ifs that popped up in his head. She was always so eager to challenge herself and had proven time and again she was capable of so much more than what she did on a daily basis. Loki was still in her life because she desired it, not because she needed anything from him.

For goodness’ sake, here she was, minding him.

“Thank you for taking care of me, Charlie. I feel restored, already.”

“Finally, he admits illness!” She snickered under her breath while Loki grumbled. “Of course, Loki. It is my distinct pleasure.” She leaned in just enough to prompt Loki to proffer his cheek, skin warm from the flush that could only half be attributed to the warmth of the broth. Her fingers trailed over his scalp, making him shudder from head to toe. “Drink all your fluids and back to bed,” she ordered gently before disappearing back out the bedroom door.

Loki wasn’t used to being taken care of like this but… he could get used to it.

#Loki #Lover #Others #Submitted one shot #submission #the sniffles #fanfictrashdump

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thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 5 years ago

Text

After the Bombs Fall [Animorphs ficlet]

[Note: I seem to have lost the ask where someone requested my post-war headcanon for Alloran, but anyway here it is.]

Less than a month after the end of the war, Alloran applies for transfer off of Earth and back to the homeworld. When the first request gets cancelled due to a minor typo in a sub-section of a supplemental form, he curses himself and immediately applies again.

The second application lingers in the metaphorical z-space between agents for longer, nearly two Earth months, before it gets cancelled as well. The systems are overtaxed due to the sudden influx of Earth tourism, the form letter tells him this time, and they’re very sorry for their inability to accommodate his request.

The third time he applies, the form remains “under review” on the submission portal for half a year, even though the review process normally takes less than a day. So he applies a fourth time, a terrible suspicion taking hold by now. The Electorate automatically cancels both applications, and has the gall to send him a snippy comm message asking that he refrain from filing redundant claims from now on.

The fifth application gets reviewed and cancelled; the sixth one doesn’t even get that courtesy. It just stays there, “submitted” but not yet “under review,” unwanted and ignored.

Just like its author.

Alloran considers, then. For nearly a day he paces, watching the andalite computer and the primitive human device alike, and weighs the merits of stealing Visser Three’s Blade ship out of the impound lot. It wouldn’t be hard; the security system is coded to biometrics. No one but he or Tom Berenson could fly that ship now, and Tom Berenson is dead.

After another day, Alloran instead morphs human and walks to the nearest CVS.

He has to swallow an entire jumbo bag of marshmallows and three jars of tomato sauce for comfort before he can swallow his pride as well. But the comfort food does its trick, and at the end he pulls out the human cell phone still registered under one of Esplin 9466′s aliases and enters the fifth speed-dial option.

“Hey, you.” Eva answers immediately. “How’s it going?”

They don’t know each other, not really. And yet in every one of their three conversations, Eva has greeted him like an old friend. Her voice brings a reaction to Alloran’s human morph: tightness in his throat, the heat of tears behind his eyes.

“I apologize for troubling you,” Alloran says stiffly. “Please, if you are busy, disregard this request.”

Eva snorts a laugh. At least, Alloran thinks that that’s what the sound is. “I’m not busy, and I owe you a favor anyway. Shoot.”

Alloran glances around the room, but there are no weapons, so he decides to disregard that last. “I am truly sorry if it slipped my mind,” he says, “but what favor do you owe?”

“My kid is not in jail on some foreign planet right now, and I hear that’s all your fault. What’s the favor?”

“The War Council would not have imprisoned the Animorphs. That is, perhaps Aximili and Prince Jake may have been imprisoned, but doubtless the full Electorate court would have proven merciful—”

“Alloran. What’s the favor.”

He’s stalling, and she knows it. “It’s a bit of a complicated political matter, and I’m afraid I am not well equipped to explain it to a human, but enforcement of our travel policies is more subject to individual agents’ personal judgment than we ideally would have it be, and...”

“Hijo de puta. They’re not letting you go home, are they?”

Alloran fills his human lungs with more air than they technically need for speech. “It’s a complicated matter.” Nevertheless, his voice comes out small.

“You still camping at the Sharing Community Center?”

“Yes.” His voice is even smaller now.

“I’ll be there in half an hour, querido.” She hangs up.

While he waits, he goes outside to run, to graze, to stare up at the stars.

He didn’t lie; it is complicated. The Andalite Electorate is struggling to recover from a decades-long war, one that threatened the existence of their very soul as a people. Seerow’s mistakes — and Alloran’s own decision to publicize the failings of his prince — have ensured that the whole debacle was a massive embarrassment even before the defeat on the hork-bajir homeworld.

And then...

He’s heard the word, whispered and hissed and screamed and shouted.

Abomination.

His face is the public face of the Yeerk Empire. His voice is its voice. The morph he was just using — a bald, middle-aged human male — was constructed from the DNA of a dozen human-controllers. Everything he owns, from the black limousine parked at the curb to the press pass of a woman called Aria, was taken from the hands of murdered slaves.

Of course his people don’t want him back. Of course not. The quantum virus was one thing, but then he had the gall go to and get himself captured by the yeerks. And he’d added insult to injury when he’d challenged a captain on Aximili’s behalf.

He can see it. That’s what stings. He can stare up at the glittering point of his home star even as he runs across a field of dull foreign grass, and at this rate it’ll never be anything but a fixed point of light in an unfamiliar sky ever again.

Eva shows up then, before he can feel too sorry for himself.

She brings a human substance known as pinot noir.

**********

“And then...” Eva points a wavering finger at him. Her words have gotten blurrier over time. “And then, we just sneak it in, and bam!” She slaps the tabletop.

Alloran leans in across to her. “Bam,” he agrees.

“You needed a ride home?”

At the new voice, Alloran stands up sharply. Too sharply. He gets his two flimsy little legs tangled in the chair and almost pitches over.

Marco catches him. “You all right?” he asks.

“I,” Alloran intones, “am intoxicated. Tox. I. Cate. Ed. Wonderful word. Intock. Sick. Kate. Dd-d-d-d-d.”

“Yeeeaah, I was getting those vibes from the—” Marco leans around him in an impressive display of human balance. “Bottle of wine apiece you two’ve apparently emptied.”

Eva draws herself up. “I did not call and request a ride home, I called and requested a ride to the Netherlands!”

“You’re right, you did.” Marco rolls his eyes. “Which is why I made the decision to show up and bring you home instead.”

“No, no, the Netherlands.” Eva steps up next to Alloran. They both regard Marco carefully. “Not to worry, we’ve thought it through. You call your friend with the private plane, Bradley or Bradford or whomever his name is. We fly out to the Hague tonight.”

“Where is this going,” Marco mutters.

“Holland,” Alloran informs him. “It is-sssss in...”

“Yeah, I’ve been.”

“Anyway.” Eva gestures sharply, bringing attention back to her. “We shall have a perfectly ordinary canister of table salt with us, and we shall request to visit with Visser Three—”

“Oh Jesus. Mom.”

“The guards will not suspect a thing, for it is just an ordinary condiment. All we must then do is create a diversion, and...” Eva flings out both hands as if miming an explosion.

“Splat,” Alloran says. “Pllll-lat. Hissssss.”

“And this will accomplish what, exactly?” Marco asks.

“Making Alloran feel better,” Eva whispers to him. However, she seems to be whispering a great deal louder than she realizes. Humans are ill-equipped for private communication, with their sad reliance on verbal speech. “None of the andalites want him back.”

“Yeah. Cool.” Marco laughs. “Ten out of ten therapists recommend war crimes for a friend in need! And as a guy who’s been to at least ten therapists, I’d know.”

Alloran is not certain, but he believes that Marco might be employing the human verbal quirk known as “sarcasm.”

“No one will suspect a thing.” Eva pats him on the shoulder.

Marco sighs. “Security will just think it’s cocaine.”

“Cocaine?” Alloran asks. “Coke-cane? Co-c-c-c-c-c-c-aine?”

“Something you’re never going to try.” Marco levels a hard stare at him. “Given how well you handle your red wine.”

“Cooo-caaayyy-nnnee. Co-cane.”

“How did you get wrapped up in this dumbass heist, anyway?” Marco looks from one of them to the other.

“Alloran needed me,” Eva says.

“I have no friends,” Alloran announces. “And Arbron does not own a cell phone. Ell. Elffffff-own.”

Marco closes his main eyes for several seconds, massaging the bridge of his nose. An impressive feat of daring, for a creature with no stalk eyes who relies upon bipedalism. “Should’ve known you’d be a morose drunk,” he says.

“So, you’ll take us to the airfield, then?” Eva asks.

Lifting his head up, Marco opens his eyes. “In the words of my wise and estimable mother: if you want it that bad, you can have it when you’re sober.”

Eva opens her mouth halfway, squinting in what Alloran would guess is the effort of remembering when she would have said that. After a second, her expression clears. “I was right to say it, that floozy would have broken your heart in the morning, and this situation is entirely different!”

“That floozy’s name was Jake Gyllenhaal,” Marco mutters, “and I totally would’ve gone for it when I was sober, but I never got his number.”

Eva says something in Spanish, presumably about the loose morals of Jake Gyllenhaal. Marco’s expression would suggest that he only pretends not to understand her.

“Anyway. The point stands. I’m driving you home.” Marco jerks his chin at Eva. “And you,” he says, looking at Alloran, “are gonna morph and sober up before we go anywhere. I’m not having you nothlited on my conscience.”

“But,” Alloran says, “the salt—”

“We’ll revisit the salt in the morning,” Marco says firmly. “Demorph. Please.”

Alloran considers pointing out that he is a war-prince, he does not take orders from alien children, he has his pride... And then considers whether any of those statements is actually true.

He demorphs.

Instantly, he feels both better and worse. On the upside he’s more clear-headed now, but on the downside he’s more clear-headed.

“I’ll call you.” Marco gives him a long look while shepherding Eva out the door.

**********

Marco does not call, but he does send several written missives to Alloran’s cell phone. The Animorphs still have an illegal andalite communication device, it would appear, and Marco has put in requests to channels both official and not about the possibility of transport from Earth to the homeworld.

—Ax is on it, Marco’s latest text reads. —He’s calling an old friend. Might take some smuggling, but we’ve got an idea.

—Thank you, Alloran types carefully on the tiny keyboard. —Your assistance is greatly appreciated, and undeserved.

He’s debating whether to hit send when there’s a knock on the door.

Alloran’s in an abandoned building the Sharing used to use for housing human-controllers. There is very little chance that this is an incidental knock, or someone who wandered by accidentally.

The thought occurs to him that it’d be smarter to morph human and blend in before he answers. But the fear of facing the unknown in a half-blind, tailless morph wins out. He opens the door as is.

It proves to be the right decision. The andalite on the other side didn’t bother to morph either.

Estrid stares at him in silence for several seconds. Her expression is unreadable, all eyes ahead and carefully blank. Alloran doesn’t know what she’s looking for, but he lets her look.

«Estrid,» he says at last, when it’s clear she isn’t going to speak first. He gestures with his tail blade, the downward sweep of greeting for an honored warrior.

«Father,» she says.

Her own sharp tail-turn puts the flat of her blade toward him. A greeting between equals. An insult. Both not formal enough for an aristh to acknowledge a war-prince, and too formal for greeting a family member.

But then, Alloran went for Estrid, didn’t he. Not Aristh Estrid-Corill-Darrath, not Estri-kala or my child.

They haven’t seen each other in over two years. They haven’t spoken in almost twenty.

Arguably, given how young she was when he was taken, they’ve never really spoken at all. Certainly Alloran knows little of the person his daughter has become as a young adult. As a groundbreaking aristh. As a brilliant researcher.

As a war criminal.

Humans have a saying, about apples that don’t fall far.

«How is Jahar?» Alloran says. It’s what he really wants to know, and he doesn’t know how to approach any of the other minefields that lie between them. «And Ajaht, how is he?»

Judging by Estrid’s expression, she takes this to be a standard small-talk opening instead of the deeply earnest inquiry it is. «Mother is well enough. I suppose you’ll have to apologize to her in person.» She doesn’t mention her brother.

Alloran feels his tail blade drop nearly to the floor without his permission. «Yes. Of course. Estrid...»

«I’m on a diplomatic mission to Earth,» she says briskly. «Prince Aximili and I have concluded discussions with several local leaders about access to morphing technology and tourism restrictions going forward. Therefore, I will be able to exit the planet and return home after being subject to nothing more rigorous than human security scans.» The dismissive little flick of her tail at this last is, all things considered, somewhat warranted. Humans have yet to devise a single effective way to detect morphers.

«Return home,» Alloran repeats.

Might take some smuggling, Marco said. It’s sinking in: Estrid is here to bring him home.

Home. To the wife he disgraced. The brother he got killed. The children who won’t even acknowledge him, a feverish pair of overachievers desperate to leave his legacy behind. Ajaht’s tail-fighting is so legendary that, even using human channels, Alloran has been able to find scraps of news. Estrid’s skill is not praised so publicly... but the yeerks got ahold of Arbat’s files, after their disastrous mission to Earth. Alloran knows more about her, he thinks, than he ever wanted to.

«We’re leaving now,» Estrid says. «My window for authorized exit ends in two-point-eight-six Earth hours, so we need to move.»

She must have been here for days if not weeks, to negotiate the way she’s describing. And yet she came to find him at the last possible second. Likely to minimize the time they’re forced to spend together.

Alloran doesn’t have the time or the energy to care. «What would you prefer me to morph?»

«Something small and Earth-based.» She barely finishes speaking before she starts to morph herself.

Alloran pauses in surprise, because Estrid morphs with shocking skill, melding from andalite to human in a mere forty-seven seconds, all without ever once losing her footing. She even wears a normative amount of clothing when she’s finished, a sundress and sneakers and a coat overtop.

She sighs, looking him over. «We don’t have all day, here.»

«You were wasted in Arbat’s lab,» Alloran says.

«You don’t have to tell me that,» Estrid snaps. «Tell me, dear father, what else was a girl and a second-born and the child of a disgraced bloodline meant to do?»

Alloran has no answer. Silently he morphs.

His options are limited — Visser Three overwhelmingly preferred large to small morphs, and Alloran hasn’t bothered acquiring much else — so he opts for snake, Lachesis muta according to a human-controller from the area. It’s still larger than most Earth reptiles, but by coiling in close he becomes small enough to drop into the oversized pocket of Estrid’s jacket.

Estrid doesn’t speak to him, and he doesn’t ask her to, the entire way back to her fighter. She’s under no obligation, and he won’t force the issue.

********

«We’re landing soon,» Estrid tells him, three Earth weeks and eighty-two light years later. She’s maintained that icy formality throughout the entire journey so far, responding to Alloran’s questions — about her research, about her brother, about her morphing — with flat non-answers.

Alloran steps to the viewport to look out over the rolling grasslands of home like a child on his first in-atmosphere flight. Is it home, really? It’s been thirty-nine years since he left home to quell the small skirmish on the hork-bajir homeworld, forty-seven since his first offworld assignment serving under Prince Seerow. He has seen a dozen planets, been a hundred species, since that time. This body belonged to Visser Three for nearly as long as it did to Alloran himself, decades of nonexistence until he all but forgot his own name.

«What will you do next?» Alloran asks Estrid, still desperate for conversation.

She flicks a dismissive hand at the air. «I have my work.»

«Even without Arbat?»

«I didn’t say it was easy.»

«And the quantum virus?»

She turns all four eyes on him. A small part of him wants to scold her for bad form, but a far larger part of him recognizes he’d be overstepping. «The quantum virus never happened,» she says sharply. «And if it did, I was never informed of its existence. This journey was my first visit to Earth, Arbat died in a lab accident, we were never involved in weapons development, and if you even think about saying differently the War Council will back my story, because all of the documentation —»

«Estrid.» He cuts her off as gently as he can. «I would never...»

He sees it, in the stiffening of her stalk eyes. Hears it in the catch of her breath. She doesn’t want a father. Or if she does, she doesn’t want him.

«I would never dishonor the memory of my brother by raising questions about his death,» Alloran says instead.

Estrid relaxes, and turns back to the controls.

He is weary of war, weary of being alone. The person he’d been when he first met Esplin 9466 would have been shouting by now, demanding to know what right Estrid has to consider herself any better than him. He only deployed a quantum virus, had no hand in its evil creation. Either she is a hypocrite... or she is just like the War Council officials who consider it a far worse crime to be enslaved by yeerks than to have murdered ten million hork-bajir.

It’s been a long war, and Alloran has missed her every moment of it. Let her be angry; she’s here.

There is one more delicate question Alloran needs to ask, however, before they disembark on their family’s land. «Jahar,» he says. «I assume... She has found someone else. To help raise you, and...» Dark Sun, but this is hard. «She deserves to be loved, of course.»

Eva’s mate remarried, after all. Together they’d cried about that, somewhere between the third and fourth glasses of wine.

«Who would date her?» Estrid asks. «Who would be seen speaking to her? No. There’s no one. There hasn’t been. There was me, and Ajaht, and that’s it.»

Alloran feels sadness and relief and disappointment and shame at his relief, all at once in a rush too complex to understand. «I see,» he says at last.

«So go to her.» Estrid yanks hard to unseal the fighter’s outer door; they’ve landed without his noticing. «Go to her and—» Another hard yank. «Kriffing thing!»

Alloran puts his hand next to hers, pleasantly surprised when she doesn’t pull away. As one they move, and the door comes open at last.

She came to meet them. Alloran doesn’t know why he wasn’t expecting that, and yet...

Jahar is older, lined around the eyes and stooped in her shoulders and dull-edged around her hooves. She’s radiant. Transcendent.

Alloran is frozen. Aware of all the knocks he’s taken, all the shine he’s lost. Aware that they’ve been apart for longer than they ever were together.

He blames that last for the way his knees lock. For the voice that freezes inside his mind, unable to form words. For the crack in his breath and the painful squeeze of his hearts as she becomes the one to step forward. As she raises a hand to his cheek, in the first gentle touch he’s felt in over twenty years.

[Note: I know that Aloth’s line in #38 about Estrid being Arbat’s niece — which would make her Alloran’s daughter — is probably not meant to be literal in context. But the straightforward interpretation is boring, so I went with the fun one.]

#animorphs #animorphs fic #long post #ficlet #alloran #alloran is my trash baby #animorphs spoilers #victim blaming #estrangement #alloran semitur corass #Estrid Corill Darrath #alloran is estrid's dad #actual dumpster fire alloran semitur hardass #star wars swear words #cold mountain... in space!

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fantasyoverreality98 · 5 years ago

Text

Fight the Darkness Pt. 10

Masterlist

Pairing: Gaius x MC

Summary: Stuck on a destroyed Mydiea, Amy and Gaius make plans for what to do once they return to Greece.

Author’s Note: Sexual content warning. That’s all I have to say. No other words needed. Also, sorry for any potential typos or grammatical errors.

Word Count: 4,339

-----

Death had never felt so good.

It was dark, quiet, and…damp?

Amy shot up, gasping as she scrambled to her feet. Pain shot through her leg, and she fell back to the ground, wincing.

“Oh, thank god.” Gaius sat a few feet away, his hair disheveled. “I had no idea whether you would ever wake up.”

“Where are we?” She studied their surroundings, frowning when she noticed the small stream running alongside her, its water black.

He sighed, averting his gaze when she looked back at him. “We’re in a cave. And we’re still on Mydiea.”

She should be dead. She had been ready to accept her fate.

Now, she didn’t know what to do.

“I’m so sorry,” Amy said, remembering the way she had behaved. “I should have told you the second I felt like I was losing control.”

“How are you feeling now?” His muscles were tensed.

He was afraid of her.

The sound of the stream filled in the silence while she tried to think of what to say. Finally, she cleared her throat, a genuine smile tugging at her lips. “I feel nothing. No voice, no darkness, no power. It’s quiet.”

Her laugh echoed off the cave walls. For so long, there had always been a presence lingering, following her everywhere she went. Now, all she felt was the blissful silence of being completely alone. There was only one voice now. Her own.

This relief was temporary. Once Amy remembered what she’d done, how many lives she had claimed, shame washed over her. Hundreds were dead. And it was all her fault.

“How do you live with the guilt?” she asked, wishing Gaius would look at her.

He stared at the cave floor, the blade of his sword scraping against the rock as he dragged it in small patterns. “Eventually, you get used to it. You accept that there’s no way to take your actions back. And you just hope you can redeem yourself someday.”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever feel like I’ve redeemed myself.”

His lips twitched, and he finally met her eyes. “Join the club.”

Amy looked back at the stream, frowning at the color of the water. “How did we get here?”

“I had to carry you in here before the sun killed us both.” Gaius set his sword down, staring at a spot near her head. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“Yeah…” She slowly rose to her feet again, the leg no longer hurting. “But I don’t think we can just go back to pretending nothing happened. People are going to start looking for me.”

The text from Adrian rose to the surface of her thoughts, and Amy grimaced. Her friends were coming for her, whether she liked it or not. And they would not be happy when they learned about what she’d done. They already knew who she was with, which would just make things even worse.

She realized that this would likely be goodbye. After they escaped Mydiea, she and Gaius would have to go their separate ways. “Where are you going to go next?” she asked, clenching her hands into fists.

“Considering we somehow managed to survive, I think we should go to Russia.”

“We?” Hope swelled in her chest.

Gaius looked at her again, his expression softening. “Didn’t I tell you this was never about being the hero?”

“Well, you kinda were the hero, whether you like it or not.”

He was clearly trying to maintain a serious expression, but ultimately failed. As he rolled his eyes, his lips pulled back into a grin. Gaius got to his feet, closing the distance between them. “As I said before, you are absolutely insufferable.”

“And yet, here you are. Still here.” Her voice was a whisper, the memory of him saying he loved her burned into her mind.

The horrors she had committed were forgotten for a moment as Gaius pulled her to him. “Because you are also irresistible.”

She smiled, running her hands up the back of his neck into his hair, pulling his face down to meet hers.

Somehow, in this moment, she felt like everything was going to be okay.

They pulled away after a minute, and Amy turned to walk toward the cave entrance, stopping just out of the sunlight’s reach. When she saw what the island looked like, her steps faltered, and a quiet gasp slipped past her lips.

All signs of life on the island were gone, leaving behind little more than destruction. The houses that had been built were gone, the trees growing around them blackened and strewn around the ground.

The once crystal blue waters were now black around the island, changing back to the original color in the distance. Amy stepped back into the cave, unsure what to say or do. She had destroyed Mydiea.

“How do we get back to the mainland?” Her voice bounced off the walls, and she turned back to Gaius. “Is there a way?”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I have no clue. The boat might still be there, but I feel that is little more than wishful thinking.”

Amy swore under her breath, walking deeper into the cave, squatting beside the stream. A smell unlike anything she’d ever encountered before hung in the air. It was as if whatever darkness, whatever evil had been inside her for so long, had destroyed the land.

Once, she had felt the constant confliction between good and evil. Now, she wasn’t sure how to feel. She couldn’t say she was good, but she wanted to believe that she wasn’t evil, either.

“How long was I unconscious for?” She started to reach for the water, but pulled her hand back, an instinct warning her that this was no ordinary stream anymore.

Gaius leaned against the cave wall a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest. “Half of the day, at least. The sun will probably set in a couple hours.” He eyed her ripped clothing. “I didn’t think we would make it in here in time.”

“Why didn’t you just let me die?” She knew that the question had been a mistake when he stared at her. “I did so many horrible things. So many people died because of me.”

“It amazes me how often you seem to forget about my past. I am not exactly an upstanding person.”

Amy sighed, wishing he would just tell her that she should feel bad. It would be better than trying to make excuses for her sins. Death was supposed to be the way this had ended. She had been ready for it, had wanted it, and instead she would have to continue living with a new weight upon her back.

“That still doesn’t answer my question,” she said, her fingers once more hovering inches away from the blackened water. “You could have just left me there.”

But there was no need for him to answer. They both knew why he had saved her, and she wasn’t ready to have that conversation yet. There was still time for him to change his mind. A few days together wasn’t enough time to make the decision to stay. She had always known the time would come for this little journey to end.

“I guess the idea of living in a world without you made me a bit sad.” There was some of the old, sarcastic Gaius in the comment, and Amy fought back a smile.

It would take a long time for things to return to normal. Perhaps they never could go back to the way they had been, but she had to admit she missed seeing this side of him.

She remembered their reunion, and turned her head back to look at him. “Now you understand the reason why I spared your life. It seemed just a tiny bit of a waste to kill you.”

“Nice to see that you’re back to making those terrible jokes.” He shook his head, his lips quirked up in a smirk. “It would be a shame if I never heard one again.”

Amy finally gathered up the courage to touch the water, and immediately withdrew her hand when she felt the evil that lurked beneath the surface, that seemed to be intertwined with the island itself. Whatever she’d done to rid herself of the power had not destroyed it forever. It still existed outside of her body.

Suddenly, the island felt unsafe. She feared that staying here too long would not be good. Trying to hide the fear, she rose to her full height and walked past Gaius, back toward the cave entrance.

The air felt heavier than before, reminding her of the Death Island they’d visited when trying to defeat Rheya. Something evil lingered here, and Amy wanted to get far, far away.

“Do you think anyone survived?” A large part of her already knew the answer, but the smallest part wanted to believe otherwise.

Gaius took a place by her side, shaking his head. When their eyes met, he frowned, reaching up to brush his fingers across her face. “We both know the answer to that question already.”

“What about everywhere else?”

He sighed, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “I haven’t the slightest clue.”

“Are you sure you want to stick around and deal with the aftermath? It might just make you look even worse.” Amy felt the guilt wash over her at the idea of hindering Gaius’ mission to redeem himself.

Why had she dragged him into this mess?

“There is nothing else I’d rather do for the next thousand years.”

A smile slowly spread across her face, and she tried to think of how to respond to that. After a moment of silence, Amy pulled him closer. “Are you sure spending a thousand years with me won’t make you regret choosing to save me? I can be quite annoying.”

“I think I can manage.” He leaned down to kiss her, and all she wanted to do was forget about everything but this brief moment of bliss.

It was strange, laughable, to think of the circumstances. She’d fallen in love with the one person she never, ever should have. Gaius had done horrible things. He had killed her. And countless others. The list of his wrongdoings went on and on, and yet…

Amy held his face in her hands, kissing him harder. Now would be the perfect moment to say those three words. They had survived, and he had told her to wait to say it, but now she found it difficult to admit the way she felt.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered against his lips, thinking about what she had almost done.

Gaius shook his head, pulling her body closer to his. “Don’t apologize. You weren’t yourself.”

“But I was.” Her actions weren’t excusable. She knew that, deep down, she had been drawn to the pull of power, to the darker instincts within. “It’s like you said. I was still myself. I had several bad days.”

He sighed, studying her face without a word. Amy thought about all she had done, of the bloodbath that likely remained in a vampire club not too far away. People would hunt her down. Of that, she was certain.

“I can’t believe I was going to change you again. After I knew what those years of being trapped did to you.” Amy tried to pull away, but Gaius continued to hold her. She shook her head, still wishing the sun had finished her off. “Don’t try to make excuses for me. It was wrong.”

“I am not making excuses for you. As someone who spent thousands of years making the wrong decisions, I can understand. You did horrible things, but you are not beyond redemption.”

She almost wanted to laugh at where they were now. “I guess we have one more thing in common now, at least.”

Using humor to deflect from the guilt she felt would only work for so long, but Amy didn’t care. She couldn’t afford to think about it right now. Not with the knowledge that just beyond this cave, the world was in rot and decay. Mydiea might never be inhabitable again.

“You think there’s still room for me on your journey to redemption?” Amy knew that her friends would eventually find her, but she had no intention of going back. It was too late for that.

Gaius glanced at the world beyond the cave, and a muscle in his jaw twitched. “My opinion hasn’t changed. I still believe that you are too good for me. It would probably be best for you to return to Adrian and Kamilah.”

She reached up for his face, forcing him to turn his head back to her. “I am not too good for you. You are the only one who understands me. I choose you.”

He took a shaky breath, closing his eyes as he rested his forehead against hers. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I love you, Gaius Augustine.”

When they kissed, she finally felt complete. The hole that Jax’s death had left no longer felt so big. Amy couldn’t stop herself from crying, the tears traveling down her face as she held Gaius in her arms.

Slowly, their kisses grew more desperate, and Gaius slid his hands under her shirt. They were cold, the damp cave causing a chill in the air, but Amy didn’t care. She wanted him. She needed him.

“Amy…” Gaius’ throat bobbed as she stepped back to unstrap the katana from her back, letting it fall to the ground. “I—”

With a smile, she placed a finger over his lips, shaking her head. “We still have time before the sun sets, and I really don’t want to spend the next few hours overthinking every single thing that’s happened.”

He nodded, placing his hands back on her body. The cold that hung in the air sent shivers down her spine, but she savored the feel of his hands on her bare skin as he slowly undressed her.

Once they’d finished ridding each other of their clothes, they began to kiss again. They took a few steps back, and Amy gasped when the freezing cave wall pressed against her back. With a quiet chuckle, Gaius pulled her away, his hands at the small of her back.

“Do you want to stop?” He gently bit her neck, running his fingers along the curve of her waist. “Now seems like an odd time to do this.”

She shook her head, trying to control her breathing. “Don’t stop. This is the realest I’ve felt in days.”

The sound of the stream still echoed in the cave, accompanied by the occasional gasp as they focused on each other.

A splash echoed in the distance outside the cave, and the island itself seemed to be falling apart. Gaius turned his head in the direction the sound had come from, but Amy pulled his lips back to hers, their bodies flush against each other.

If this was how they would spend their last few hours, she wouldn’t have it any other way. She hadn’t expected to leave the island anyway. The cave could collapse on them, and she wasn’t entirely sure she would care.

“I need this,” she said, running her hands down his chest. His muscles tensed the lower she went, and Amy bit her bottom lip, locking eyes with him.

Memories of their night together on the boat flashed through her head. In that moment, it had been all about satisfying a physical attraction. Even the other times they had had sex before focused largely on a need for release.

This time felt different.

Gaius breathed heavily when she wrapped her hand around his shaft, capturing her lips with his as she began to move. “Amy.” Hearing her name in that breathy tone made her feel more than any touch ever could.

He groaned as she picked up her pace, digging his fingers into her hips. They stumbled backward, her back hitting the cold cave wall again. Ignoring the chill that went through her, Amy tugged him closer, moaning when her tongue grazed his teeth and he kissed her harder.

One of his hands traveled between her legs, their restrained gasps filling the air as they drove each other to the edge. When she felt like she was about to finish, Amy buried her hands in Gaius’ hair, bucking her hips toward him as she finally reached orgasm. A breathy laugh slipped past her lips when he pulled back to look at her, grinning.

“God, you drive me wild.” His hair fell in his face, and she pushed it back, her heart still racing.

“Mm, seriously, I think you need to get a haircut.” She weaved her fingers through the dark strands, cutting off his response with her lips.

Amy broke off the kiss after a minute, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth as she moved to kneel in front of him. He tangled his hands in her hair as she tilted her head back to make eye contact with him, trying her best not to smirk.

Breathy curses bounced off the cave walls as she took him into her mouth, and Gaius groaned quietly. He let her continue a few minutes longer before pulling her to her feet, holding her in his arms.

“I look forward to many more moments like this,” he whispered in her ear, his cool breath making her shiver.

Amy felt her stomach clench, the anticipation enough to make her knees weak. She closed her eyes and leaned against the cave wall as Gaius focused his attention on her chest. Those three words she’d finally gathered up the courage to say played on a loop in her head, heat rushing to her face in a mixture of shame and desire.

When he grabbed one of her legs and brought it up against his hip, her eyes fluttered open. For the first time in twenty-four years, there was no voice in her head. She could truly enjoy the moment without worrying about losing control.

“Gaius.” His name was her new favorite word. She kept repeating it as he slowly pushed inside, mouthing it as he started to move.

Once they left this island, there was no telling what might happen. They could find themselves face to face with death the moment their feet hit the mainland.

Darkness still existed here, lingering in the shadows as the island slowly succumbed to the poison that had lived inside her body for so long. Amy feared what she would see when they left the cave. Something told her that it would not be a pleasant sight.

“I love you,” she said again, her nails digging into his back as Gaius hoisted her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

He leaned against her, pressing her further against the wall. She hardly noticed the cold anymore. “I love you too.”

After they finished, they slowly got dressed and sat beside each other, letting the steady flow of the stream fill in the silence.

Amy laced her fingers through Gaius’, unable to stop herself from smiling. She leaned her head against his shoulder and took a deep breath.

“I still don’t understand why you changed back into your old outfit. What was wrong with the one I bought you?”

Gaius rolled his eyes. “Nothing was wrong with it. I just prefer this one.”

She couldn’t help it. Amy started to laugh, ignoring the glare she received in response. “How many times do I have to tell you that you look absolutely ridiculous?”

“How many times do I have to tell you that you are the only one who thinks that?”

“Trust me, I’m not the only one who thinks that.”

He scoffed, turning his head to look at the cave entrance. The sun was beginning to set. “Are you ready to leave Greece as fast as we can once we arrive? Once people figure out what happened, they will come for us.”

“It’s still not too late for you to go your own way. I won’t take offense.” A small part of her worried that he really would accept the offer. Staying with her would put both of their lives in danger.

There was silence for a moment before Gaius answered. “If I’m completely honest, I was a bit miserable before you showed up.” His eyes were full of regret when he looked at her. “You were the one who convinced me I had something more to live for. I owe you my life. Were it not for you, I don’t know if I would want to even try to redeem myself.”

“As a wise man once said, ‘goodness is a choice.’ You can’t give me all the credit. At the end of the day, every decision you’ve made has led you here. You want to be good. I didn’t force you to do anything.”

“I’m not so sure the others will see it that way.” He eyed up his gladius, sighing. “They seemed to be convinced that I will always be the evil man they knew. And maybe they’re right. Maybe I will eventually give in to my darker desires yet again. You said it yourself. You know who I truly am.”

All the horrible things she’d said and done while under the influence of Rheya’s powers would haunt her forever. Amy wanted to apologize again, but she knew it wouldn’t make a difference. There was no taking back what had already been said.

“We can keep each other in line,” she said, watching the black water flow deeper into the cave. “If I start to slip, or if you do, we can stop it. Or both end up destroying the world together. Who knows.”

He laughed, leaning his head back against the wall behind them. “Has anyone told you that your sense of humor is quite morbid?”

“Maybe once or twice.” Her smile faltered when she thought about Adrian’s message again. “How long do you think it will take before Adrian and Kamilah find us?”

Gaius kept his eyes trained on the ground, his grip on her hand tightening. “If they know about what happened in Ireland, it won’t be long. And if what happened at the club has already made news…I think they’ve already found us.”

She shuddered at his words. The idea of leaving Mydiea no longer appealed to her. Leaving this island would signal the beginning of a life on the run. From now into the foreseeable future, someone would be searching for them.

“Great.” Amy wasn’t sure she wanted to face her friends. Lily might be a bit more understanding, but she knew that Adrian and Kamilah would be less than happy.

Maybe they wouldn’t guilt her too much for what she’d done with her powers, but they would most definitely be horrified to learn just what her and Gaius had been up to while they were together.

“Are you certain you want to come with me? You will have a better chance at earning forgiveness if you go with them.” Gaius was frowning when she looked at him. “They can protect you in ways I cannot.”

She shook her head, scooting closer to him. “I don’t need protection. I’m not some helpless child. I defeated The First. I overcame the darkness twice.”

He grinned, a laugh bursting from deep in his chest. “That you did.”

“So, I’m sorry to say, but you aren’t getting rid of me that easily.” The sky outside was growing darker, and Amy felt butterflies in her stomach as the nerves settled in. “I just hope you’re prepared to deal with them.”

“Whatever will be, will be.” He glanced at the cave entrance again, and sighed, rising to his feet. “We should probably prepare to leave.”

Waves lapped at the shore when they emerged ten minutes later, the water looking even worse in the darkness. Amy swore she heard rumbling from deeper inland, and shivered. She began to reach for the katana, but stopped herself. It was silly. There was nothing left alive on Mydiea.

Miraculously, the boat was still where they’d left it. It looked like it had been damaged a bit, but it would have to do.

As they pushed the boat out into the water, chills ran down Amy’s spine when they stepped into the sea. The black water lapped at her calves, and she could feel the energy that radiated from the island.

“Let’s get out of here,” she mumbled, ignoring the way the hairs on her arm raised.

Evil remained here. And it was much worse than it ever had been before.

Gaius nodded, and together, they climbed into the speed boat. The motor rang out in the silence, and Amy shuddered again as she watched the island slowly fade away.

Before she turned away, she thought she saw a shadow standing on a cliff, watching them speed away. She shook her head, telling herself that it was her imagination. It was over. The island would slowly wither away, taking the darkness with it.

They spent the trip back to Greece in silence. Amy couldn’t stop thinking about everything she had done, knowing that she had spiraled out of control in so little time. It would haunt her forever.

Eventually, land appeared once more, and she let out a sigh of relief. It felt good to be back on the mainland. The world seemed undisturbed, safe from what she had done on Mydiea.

The relief she felt was temporary, however. After Gaius helped her climb out of the boat and the two of them started walking toward the city, she sensed a shift in the air. Before she’d even looked up, Amy knew who waited for them on the railing separating the beach from the streets.

Still, it didn’t stop her from wincing when she finally looked up and saw Adrian, Kamilah, and Lily watching her.

#choices: stories you play #choices fanfiction #gaius augustine #gaius x mc #gaius augustine x mc #bloodbound #bloodbound 3

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