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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

HASO, “Post Apocalyptic Utopia.”

I was actually able to write something today, which I didn’t expect. So I hope you all enjoy!”

A small delegation of Vrul scientists were waiting for them when the shuttle landed. Dr. krill looked around the city and noted the increased security from the last time he had been here, though that had been almost a year ago, so he couldn’t have said if that was a recent development or not. Behind him, Admiral Vir, Doctor Katie, and their resident microbiologist stepped out of the shuttle, followed closely by their select group of marines.

The marines had been ordered to keep a close eye on Krill, as it was a well known fact that the Vrul council had put a termination order on his head. They had said the termination order had been dissolved, but to say that he didn’t exactly trust their word, was a bit of an understatement.

Admiral Vir stayed close at his shoulder eyeing up anyone who got to close.

They had brought the marines for a reason, but a single human would have been enough to scare of the Vrul if they were to try, and Admiral Vir, as important as he was in intergalactic government, was even more of a deterrent.

They were met a few feet later by the council members, no one that Krill recognized, so they must have been council assistants.

“Dr. Krill, we were not sure you would answer our call.”

“Is that because of the termination order on my head, or because the Vrul council seems to have a disdain for my work?”

They stepped back a little shying away from his bluntness, but he stood his ground. Perhaps it was a little mean to behave so human-like in front of them, but he had to admit, it gave him no end of pleasure to see the squirm, all except for one.

One of the Vrul scuttled forward and his movements were familiar.

Together both Krill and the Admiral recognized him as the psychologist who had stood up for krill the last time he had brought in on a termination evaluation.

‘I am pleased to see you have answered our call Dr. krill, I was worried the past issues with the council might drive you away.” he looked up and raised a hand to the human, “As well as you Admiral, I am always pleased to see the man who saved my life.”

The admiral saluted, “The pleasure is all ours.”

Krill nodded pleased to see at least one sensible Vrul in this entire place, “I am sure we are all very happy to see one another, but I doubt you would ave called us here for a simple visit?”

The psychologist nodded his head, “Yes, yes of course. Please follow me.”

They did as ordered, the humans sauntering along behind them as the Vrul walked and talked. Around them, the city was surprisingly deserted with few workers and even fewer pedestrians.

“Something strange has happened, something we are not sure what to make of.”

They turned a corner down the middle streat, heading towards the outskirts of the city.

“The morning before last, a…. Minor beta geologist by the name of Dr. Kell was allowed permission outside the city walls.”

“Beta scientist?” Dr Krill wondered

“He was one of those hard cases. His original tests showed promise, but it was later determined that he was closer to a beta than an alpha, though the council let him keep his teaching position at the institute as long as it was only the entry level classes, regardless, that is not the point. The point is, he was allowed outside the city on request to study surrounding soil samples. He was gone for maybe two or three hours before returning, dazed and catatonic. His helium sack had been ruptured, and shortly after being contained within an isolation chamber, he began to develop large yellow soars across his body. Those who came in close contact with him, including myself, have been put into isolation for a days duration, longer than it took for him to be infected.”

They stepped onto a small elevating platform which rose them high into the air along the wall. There were no rails, as Vrul didn’t fear falling, butthe humans clustered at the center to avoid the drop.

They made it to the top of the wall and were motioned over by the psychologist to peer over the edge.

“That of course is not even mentioning these creatures.”

Together they looked over the edge of the wall. The humans muttered in surprise, and Krill Felt his antenna vibrate slightly in unease and burgeoning horror. The creatures below him looked awful like deltas, with their six limbs and thickened bodies, but the way they moved was just so rong. They clambered over each other hauling themselves up against the wall as if they were trying to climb it.

There were no more than seven of them in total and their eyes glowed a glassy white. All over their bodies, he could just make out the sickly yellow pustules. One of the creatures attempted to climb over his brethren, and in so doing stepped on one of the bulging sacks causing it to rupture and spew a thick spray of a pollen like substance. The cloud expanded shortly but was too thick to spread properly and slowly dropped to the ground coating the others in the layer of yellow.

The human grimaced, “Do you smell that?”

The Vrul looked up at him in surprise, “You smell something.”

All the humans nodded. Adam shook his head and sneezed rather violently taking a step back from the edge before wiping his face, “Smells like…. I don’t even know how to describe it, organic but…. rotting .”

Ramirez peered over the edge, “Tree zombies.”

The little vrul psychologist looked up at them, “What is a zombie?’

Krill sighed, “here we go.”

“Its an old legend or folktale I guess. There have been a lot of iterations of it over the centuries, but the general idea is that some kind of virus infects a human and the symptoms cause them to become aggressive and violent. A bite causes them to spread the Virus, and so they become cannibalistic. The disease rapidly spreads through population centers and the entire world shuts down in an apocalyptic event while small pockets of humans attempt to survive. Of course, its not exactly scientifically possible with the diseases we know of, but.” Adam glanced back over the wall, “Obviously not the same thing, but…. A similar principal I suppose. Twenty bucks says that those sores are what make it contagious.”

Krill nodded slowly, “it would make sense why none of you who came in contact with Dr. kell were ever infected, because you were never exposed to the pathogen. I am assuming he was not showing signs of those yellow pustules by the time he showed up?”

The psychologist nodded. “No, he developed those late last night and is still under observation. That happened about the same time he started showing signs of aggression towards the staff.”

“Let me see the patient.” krill said and the psychologist nodded, motioning them forward and back down the wall to where they were keeping their observation room.

It had been set up away and secured from the other buildings, and as they walked in most everyone was dressed in hazmat equipment.

They were brought forward, to an outside observation room where they could see through two sets of thick paned glass to where dr Kell, or who they supposed used to be Dr, Kell, paced around the room scuttling this way and that towards anyone who moved outside of his enclosure. The entire inside of the room was coated in a delicate layer of yellow pollen.”

Krill ordered someone to give him a hazmat suit and he hurried into the crowd to take a look for himself.

Dr, Katie was able to bring her hazmat equipment from the ship and followed after him, walking around with Krill as they examined the subject.

Adam didn’t know much about Vrul related illnesses, but he still found the behavior of the vrul inside the enclosure to be rather unsettling.

He walked around the outside examining the creature as Dr. krill and Katie spoke with each other.

He tapped his fingers against his arms nervously. This was very strange as far as he knew no vrul had lived outside their cities in centuries if not millennia. So how could there be infection outside of the city…. Of course…. That was unless…

A sudden scuttling could be heard outside the door, and he turned around to watch as a small alpha Vrul stepped into the room. It hurried forward and stood at the edge of he room looking unsure and nervous. On occasion it glanced over at him with a wary expression, to the point where he thought it was going to get whiplash.

He nodded, “Do you need something?”

It jumped as he spoke clutching some files on its chest, “i uh… uh I wanted to speak with the doctors about…. About something I found.”

Obviously Vrul only had one gender, but there was just something about it that made him think female, so he went with it.

Usually Vrul chose based on convenience when working with species of more than one gender, but until she said otherwise she was going to have to do.

“You can tell me.”

She looked up at him with a skeptical expression.

Most vrul had a sense of intellectual superiority when it came to other species. It made them insufferable sometimes as humans had IQs closer to their betas than their alphas. Difference was your average human could handle abstract concepts where a beta could not. Though the vrul tended to forget this.

He pressed his lips into a thin line, “I think I can keep up, just humor me.”

She looked at him long and hard for a moment before moving closer, “I am Dr. Vess, head historian at the Vrul institute here in the city, and I have been examining some ancient documents which I think might shed some light on what is happening here.” She paused.

He nodded for her to go on.

“About four thousand years ago, there is a sudden drought of historical documentation. We don’t know much of what happened before then. We think before that time we had light travel expeditions to other planets which gave us the shoot-off species, the Gibb, but there is no historical information to back this theory. I did, however, find architectural blueprints for the wall. The most dangerous predator on our planet is only ten feet tall and can only jump two feet, but our wall is forty feet high and twenty feet thick with no doors. This is also the time when we began to develop our force field technology, which is why we are so ahead of the times. The force field that can surround this city goes as a dome into the air, and even penetrates underground. Based on everything we know, the structure of the wall is far too dramatic to have been built by those who live in the world that we do, unless there was something that happened to prompt the construction.”

Adam nodded slowly, “You think that these creatures…. Whatever they are, were an issue before the wall was built, but you have lived so long behind the wall that it was forgotten with the historical records because no vrul has bothered to go outside the city for the past four thousand years, and by the time they did they were leaving by way of spaceship.”

Her antenna vibrated, in what he had come to know as the Vrul version of a nod.

“It makes sense, as I said before there is no reason for them to have built the walls so high and so thick. Furthermore, I have been analyzing satellite patterns of the surrounding area.” She opened a map before him and he crouched down on the floor with her to take a look as she spread it out on the ground, “Circular clusters of trees, everywhere, at first I thought they were just the natural way in which our trees grow, but you can see patches of them in others places that do not follow this pattern, but looking over here in this book that I found on etymology, they seem to be similar circles made by certain types of hibernating creatures that live on this planet.”

He stared at the evidence eyes wide, “So you are saying you believe that these creatures, whatever they are have been hibernating for a couple thousand years and were only distrurbed when the doctor made his way outside the city, probably due to vibrations in the ground.”

She nodded her head, “That was another thing I had been meaning to point out. The city walls are set on a series of inertial dampeners. Now when we do construction inside the city, the foundation rattles a little bit but the housing around it does not meaning that the city does not disturb the ground around it. This includes when spaceships take off and land despite their engines generally being powerful enough to cause shock waves.”

“Well I’ll be damned.” Adam muttered, “You guys may very well be living in a post apocalyptic utopian hellscape and no one knew because the historical records beforehand were lost.” He lifted his head and turned towards where krill and katie were still working, “Doctor! Wou will want to come and hear this.”

***

He could hear the others speaking in sharp tones behind him, though he wasn’t really paying attention. His eyes were focused mostly on the creature inside the tank. Some of the actual council members had deigned to descend from their council chambers as this was actually turning into a more serious matter than they thought. The history of the vrul was apparently a little more complicated than the “Brave new world” hellscape utopia in which they lived. In fact, it appeared as if they were some kind of post zombie apocalypse.

It was both cool and rather frightening at the same time especially when you considered the fact that these creatures were still hibernating beneath the ground, and could rise at the slightest provocation.

Inside the room, the zombie Vrul bashed it’s head against the wall causing another one of it’s yellow sores to pop spreading its pollenthick against the glass.

He moved forward to where one of the doctors was standing and asked, “Is there an intercom into the room?”

The Vrul turned to look at him and then nodded slowly, “There is, why?”

“I want to try something.”

The doctor stared at him as if he had been audaciou enough to pull off his pants and start pissing on the floor.

“What!”

“Humor me doc, if it works then I might know a way to defeat these things.”

The doctor looked about ready to argue with him but Adam gave hima look and he quickly backed off.

Adam knelt down and had the doctor show him how to transmit something into the room. He scolded quickly through his music library before picking something he thought had a nice complex beat.

The doctor watched him curiously as he turned on the song.

The glass was too thick for much sound to penetrate back through, but as soon as the beat started the reaction was almost immediate, and rather violent.

What had once been Dr. Kell jerked in it’s spot, then agitatedly began to run in a circle before falling to the ground where it twitched and convulsed. He stopped the song before the doctor could order him otherwise, and he turned to look at the little creature staring up at him in confusion, “Rhythmic induced cataplexy, just like the rest of you.”

He turned to look back at where Dr. krill was standing an idea beginning to form in his head.

It was a very extreme idea. He doubted anyone would be willing to try it.

But he had to admit, it did sound pretty tempting.

Very tempting indeed.

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ave-immaculata · 3 years

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will you tell us your conversion story? no pressure

Absolutely! It's pretty long, and trigger warning for some mental health issues, suicide, and sexual assault.

I think it sort of started way way back when I was 16. I'd been really struggling and had been misdiagnosed with so many mental health issues. I was medicated for these issues I didn't actually have (I'm autistic!) and I remember distinctly encountering a little voice telling me I needed to get off the meds I was taking. And well, I didn't know how to explain that and I was basically already experiencing visual hallucinations and having 20+ full panic attacks each day because of some of the meds, so it quickly devolved even further as a mess. I wasn't able to get off of them and it got bad enough I attempted suicide. I had what I refer to as a Divine Interruption where I just saw my mom coming in and finding my corpse, and it triggered a panic attack that led me to dial 911. I ended up being rushed to the hospital and they were concerned I'd have some permanent organ damage from everything I took, but thanks be to God physically I made a full recovery. I later found out that my attempt happened on the feast day of St. Jude, patron Saint of lost causes and desperate cases. There's a local parish named after him and I think someone asked for his intercession at just the right time. I was sexually assaulted not long after by one of my best friends. I remember another friend and her mom came over when I told her what happened and they helped me explain to my parents because I was really nonverbal after a bit, but the only thing I still remember saying was "What did I do wrong?? Why is God punishing me? Why does He hate me??" I had just started getting my feet under me post-hospital and then I was deeply betrayed and traumatized by someone I loved. Even though I didn't believe in God, I knew if He existed I must have been a terrible person in a past life or something to justify what was happening to me. Long story short, I ended up getting off of those medications and figuring out I was autistic (I was in a very bad scene and was cohabiting with a man way too old for me, but his son was autistic and he ended up mentioning his suspicions to me after one too many obvious childhood stories), and got really into atheism. I had a brief run in here with a home Bible study that I attended for a single night, without telling my boyfriend who was also super atheist, but I felt like I couldn't deal with Christianity while I was obviously in a situation they wouldn't approve of (premarital sex, BDSM, cohabitation, etc.) I ended up breaking up with him and moving back home, time goes on, in another relationship in the BDSM scene when that irritating desire for something crept back up. I found myself wanting to just sit in a Church's parking lot or to walk in on one that was open and sit. I didn't really, except once. I was too nervous to go in so I sat in front of a beautiful Mary statue they had out front. At some point I started considering the existence of God with an absolutely insane amount of pride. I was really stuck on the problem of evil (especially natural evil) and initially completely wrote off the Christian God. I tried praying and a lot of the time was vaguely if not outrightly disrespectful or blasphemous, especially when I got angry with God. I completely rejected the concept of Hell, was only interested in (eventually) finding a church that was LGBT+ affirming, and liked the idea of Quakerism, although I had some issues with it as well. I had a nagging in my head calling me to abandon kink and commit myself to celibacy but that was... terrifying. All of my friends except for maybe 2 were in the BDSM community. My boyfriend and I were both in it. I had introduced him to it! I worked up the strength to tell him I wanted to stop kink altogether and he totally agreed. I'd heard a liberal Christian talk about having pre-marital sex in a way that was somehow acceptable to God, but I tried that and I felt hollow inside. I felt like I was trying desperately to convince myself something was okay, that had always been okay, still was. But it wasn't, and even though he was okay with no kink he was NOT okay with no sex. I liked the idea of Mary though, and I didn't know what else to do, so I found a site that walks you through all the prayers of the Rosary on a whim (& gives you a different mini meditation on the mystery for each of the 10 Hail Marys) so I tried that. Then I did it again the next day and the next. Then after maybe a week I figured it was stupid and I should stop. I broke up with him, pandemic hit, and I was really left alone with my thoughts in a new way. I met a guy off (BDSM) Tumblr who was a professing Catholic. We messed around online for a bit but one day we had a really long phone call about religion. I told him where I was at and he just listened and supported that. He told me why he liked the Catholic Church even when I questioned him about it. I started looking into the Church's teachings and saw they were pro-life, side B, affirmed Hell, and a bunch of other things I just could never believe, so I set it aside. Then the 7th anniversary of my suicide attempt hit, which is always a harder time of year for me. The trees are all dying and I'm confronted with the memories of how horrific the hospital was, how desperate I was to escape life, how much I'd been hurting. I just felt this deep desire to try out the Catholic thing. To figure out the theological issues I had as I went. I prayed about it and signed up for RCIA pretty much a day or two after that, and from there it was... just a landslide. Once I was willing to give God an inch He gave back miles. My pride was my biggest issue through the whole thing, and like an excellent Father He just held my hand and guided me through it. I don't think Mama ever forgot those first few Rosaries I prayed. The Lord is so patient and generous and faithful. I remember one of the things that really helped me was the purpose of suffering, and specifically the idea that God suffers with us. There's a lot more to all of this, including more discernment between Eastern Orthodoxy and the Catholic Church, as well as looking into the historicity of Christ, wrestling with the concept of Infallibility, etc., but I think those are the big points of my conversion! For the record, I fully affirm all of the Church's teachings now, although some of them were easier and quicker to understand than others, but He helped me get there in the end. Also, ya girl's been completely celibate for almost an entire year! I found out that a lot of my issues had to do more with pride and vanity than with lust, but that's a whole other story.

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beelspillowpet · 4 years

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could i get some hcs of the brothers (how many is up to you!!) with an epileptic MC? like, they end up having absence and myoclonic seizures, and maybe hurt themselves a bit? sorry if this is too specific adjkd it just happened to me this morning and. i accidentally flung my spoon across the room while eating cereal 🙈 i also stabbed myself in the eye with my thumb but Eh

OMG Anon!!! I hope you’re okay!? Seizures are really serious and dangerous, I hope you’re recovering alright?! Sending you a bunch of hugs and head pats u-u In other somewhat unrelated news, I’m glad people are so comfortable coming to me with these sorts of HCs. Means I really am doing an impactful job in my research and writing these sorts of things comfort you. It also helps me learn a little more about people's everyday struggles. Here’s to hoping for a bright future for you all!

I tried to include more symptoms and types of seizures (?) in this post, but I don’t think I was able to touch on them all? Usually when I do HCs like this, I have something like an “interview” with the asker beforehand to make sure I’m getting their experience probably, and a better understanding of the disorders. I hope this is portrayed properly!!! ~

Lucifer

He’s lecturing you, but pauses for a moment to question your reasoning for making pacts with his brothers. He’s expecting you to answer, but you don’t. You simply daze off at him. You weren’t trying to piss him off, but you weren’t all there in the moment. Your hands twitched and your hand accidently shot up behind you, as if you were pulling your hand away from a snapping dog. He took that as a warning.

The second time it occurred was over dinner. It was just you and him, enjoying the meal you prepared for dinner and waited for him to arrive home for it. You had another epileptic seizure, and spaced out for longer than normal.

When you came to, Lucifer was out of his chair at your side, checking to make sure you were alright. He was a bit rattled to say the least, but when he waved his hand in front of your eyes and they followed, he started to relax a bit more. He questioned what just happened, but with the slot of time missing in your brain, you couldn’t completely answer him.

It’s when you start jerking your body about uncontrollably, as if something is possessing you to behave in such a manner than he finally looks into it. Admittedly, he should have done so sooner, this isn’t normal behavior after all. What he discovers is a bit upsetting, as there’s no “cure” or “fix” for it. He doesn’t bring it up to you- you’re probably sensitive about the topic. But he’s far more patient with you now, knowing that these seizures are just a part of your life.

Mammon

Oh what the fuck was that? Are ya’ good? You just kinda... slapped the fuck out of yourself there? Why’d you do that?

This pea-brain probably doesn’t pick up on too many symptoms at first. You’re just his weird, hopeless human. While that’s nice, a little more attention would be grateful.

“Hey Mammon, when did you dye your hair yellow?” “What’re ya talkin’ about? My hair is white.” “Huh, in this light it looks yellow. And did you get a tan?” He thinks you’re weird but it’s okay. It sort of offends you that he thinks this way, it’s not like you’re doing this on purpose. You genuinely thought he dyed his hair yellow- and that he darkened his skin.

There are also times when he uses the same cologne but something smells different about it. The whiplash of suddenly having one smell and then be overwhelmed by something entirely different, or have this random dizziness... well, at least Mammon is always there to catch you if you lose your balance. As much of an airhead as he is, he’s still a helpful and supportive one.

Leviathan

Your seizures scare the shit out of them. You have the worst ones with him because while in his room, the bright flashing lights are somehow worse. Brighter, even more than before, and before you know it you’re having an out of body experience, feeling your body twitch and tremor, but unable to stop it.

You can hear Leviathan freaking out in the distance, making sure you lay down flat and keep you from swallowing your own tongue. Despite having a panic attack after the fact, he’s relatively calm for the most part. He doesn’t have any real knowledge on these things yet, and he’s not sure if he’s prepared for it.

Other times you may just pace the floor as if thinking. You’re constantly rubbing your hands together, looking left and right erratically. Sometimes when you do this, you’re muttering nonsense, and other times, you’re silent. Leviathan isn’t sure which one is scarier.

He does research on why you behave this way sometimes. You don’t have them too often, but it’s happened at least three times and it’s scared him each time. When he discovers his solution, he tries to bring it up with you in a calm and quiet manner. Either that or he waits until next time because bringing it up unprompted can be awkward.

Satan

Oh. He knows what’s going on. He’s got doctor friends. He sort of just... asks. Just to be sure. Whether you tell him or not, he knows what’s really going on here. He won’t judge. Obviously not. You can’t control your behavior with those sorts of things.

He’s aware that seizures can kick up anywhere, so he watches you carefully. You could have one while walking down the steps and end up falling and hurting yourself. You could get one while preparing dinner and accidently stab yourself- or you can even get one while driving. He’s always prepared to take over for you when you need it.

There was one time you finally did come to him. To confide in him about your problems. It was silly, you thought. Why would he listen? Except he set aside his book, turned in his chair to you, and listened. He never interrupted, and only spoke when you were taking a moment to breathe through your tears.

He was there for you, and he would never try to upset you. He knows how scary these sorts of things can be. While he doesn’t struggle with the same issues, having depressive episodes are not lost on him. He would gladly welcome you into his arms for a hug, and make sure you’re at least safe in these awful times.

Asmodeus

You and Asmo were at the club when it happened. You’re dancing with each other one moment, and the next you’re on the floor convulsing. You were embarrassed once it was all over, but imagine how terrified Asmo was???

You come back to yourself still on the dirty floor of the club, but now people are surrounding you, all concerned. You see Asmodeus crying, not knowing what to do. He’s panicked, and he’s gently holding your hand, hoping you’re okay.

You two leave the club early, and in your guilt, explain to him what happened. Although you’re vague because you aren’t entirely sure of the details, he puts together enough to know it won’t be the last time that happens.

he clings to you afterwards, and doesn’t let go. Even if you involuntarily jerk and hit him by accident. He knows. He understands and he loves you, darling. You would never want to push him away, and he would never want you to go. Next time, he WILL do better for you.

Beelzebub

You two were playing sports together when he accidently tackled you too hard. You fell over and hit your head hard, causing you to fall into a shock-induced seizure.

He kneels there by your side crying. He knows what to do but every time he touches you, you jerk violently. As if you’re afraid of his touch, afraid of him making things worse. Still, he does his best to assist you, making sure you don’t swallow your tongue and that you don’t harm yourself any further.

Once it’s all over, he carries you to the benches and gives you food and water. He’s still crying a bit, not sure what he should do now. He probably calls Lucifer for help, and while waiting, just talks to you. Makes sure you’re still all there.

When he’s alone, he does a bit more research on seizures and comes across epilepsy. After going over what can cause the seizures, he’s riddled with even more guilt. You hit your head when he tackled you. He probably caused that seizure, didn’t he? From then on, he refuses to play sports with you. He could never forgive himself for putting you through that.

Belphegor

Of course it was a nap. What else would it be? You wake him up on accident when you kick your leg out too hard, knocking him off the bed. When he gets up to yell at you for doing that, he notices you aren’t really paying much attention to him. Instead you’re twitching your arms and legs, grunting and groaning at the pain in your limbs when you slap against the bedpost.

You’re blinking rapidly and your lips are moving, as if you’re trying to ask him for help. All that manages to come out is something similar to your lips smacking. Like Beel when he’s taste testing his dinner.

Once the seizure is over, Belphie is sitting you up slowly, petting your hand. He brings you into a hug as you tremble in his arms, whispering that its okay and that he’s here now.

He’d never experienced something so... unsettling in his life. He wonders if humans do this sometimes. Sometimes after... traumatic experiences. He cringes at the thought. Could he have caused this unintentionally? He didn’t think that the one time he snapped, he would leave you with irreversible damage. He tries to be diligent in helping you from there on, doing his thorough research and making sure you are taken care of in all ways possible should these continue, or get worse. To him, it’s more than a reason to redeem himself, it’s just doing what’s right.

#obey me #obey me swd #om!#om! swd #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

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acourtesanofedgewater · 3 years

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Open Heart 3 Ch. 8 SPOILERS for Bryce/Raf/Jackie Stans

I know I'm one day late. Blame PB for releasing the scripts so late. Why they even did that? Idk. It's not like this chapter is good.

Oh, here we are again. Honestly guys? I'm pissed off lmao. And you will be too when you're done reading this. But enough talking, let's begin. Beware, spoilers below the cut

Let's start with Bryce

•He DOES make an appearance this chapter AND has a diamond scene. Should we celebrate? Nah. It seems the only options with characters who-are-not-Ethan in this book are not having appearances at all or having mediocre little plots when they do appear. He makes his cameo at the begging. He's in the lobby with a friend of his, who's sick and wants Bryce to operate on him but Bryce seems reluctant to do so because it's a dangerous surgery. Does it have anything to do with his failed surgery? We won't find out, because instead of his premium scene being about... idk, having a coffee while he tells us about the consequences of his mistakes (not only at work, but also mentally), it is about... visiting a Escape Room with him and his friend? Um, ok. Should I mention that Bryce's pal call MC his 'friend' twice? Yep, PB still refuses to acknowledge MC's relationship with Bryce, even though they've been together for two years and shared a tender moment when MC was about to die. When I was reading the scene, I was like "uuugh, let me guess? we get this corny funny scene and near the ending Bryce and MC find a hideout to make out". Turns out I was wrong lmao. I expect nothing and I'm still let down. They just share a little kiss I front of Bryce's friend when they are leaving the Escape Room. It is mentioned they all are gonna have dinner after this, but we don't get to see that because that would mean PB has to actually write interesting dialogue and develop Bryce and that's sacrilege.

Ok, Jackie's turn.

•She doesn't show up in this chapter. She's not even mentioned. Silly us, Jackie already had her crumbs of development last chapter, there's no need to give her more screentime this chapter lmao. Not when that screentime can be used developing Ethan.

And lastly, Raf.

•He turns up too, but it's a situation similar to Bryce's. He's rehabilitating a little boy who's sad because he will miss his birthday, so enter the bonus scene where MC has the idea of recruiting Sienna too and organizing a surprise party for the kid in the Pediatric Ward. It's actually a cute scene, and spending time with Sienna is always good, but that's the problem. The scene is about the little boy, zero Raf development or plot, and I even feel he wasn't even needed here. We know Sienna visits the PW every once in a while so they could've made her be the one who came to us with the little kid situation and everything would have turned out to be the same, except for some dialogues. Then, near the end, Raf and MC share some flirting words and a little kiss, but everything is in front of the kids, so it's over pretty quick.

And... that's it for our LIs. It sucks, but it's not the worst thing abour this chapter. I'm gonna leave some spoilers of the general plot here below so you can be as angry as me.

•MC confronts Ethan about the trial thing. You can choose to go soft on him or be outraged and point out he's a piece of shit. I recommend the second option. Anyway, if you end up agreeing with him about his decision, he says something like: "I knew you'd understand me, you care about these patients as much as I do" which, for me, given the fact he's older than MC and their boss (and being a victim of grooming myself by someone older than me and that was kinda in a position of power above me too) IS FUCKING GROOMING. If you had any doubts the lead of this book is a creep.

•Yadda yadda, we get Bryce and Raf's mediocre scenes, and back to the main plot, MC and Tobias have to diagnose a patient together. The patient is the most annoying character on this series, only below Ethan. Seriously, she's worse than that Nigel guy from Book 1 who called Bryce "Ken doll". Tobias is kinda shady with her (but... light and funny shady. He's never mean or anything) and we're supposed to be like "ugh, Tobias is the worst" but the patient is annoying so yeah, I loved Tobias' actitude.

•There were lots of Tobias moments this chapter, and he's honestly really nice. I hope we can keep him in Edenbrook. We could even kick Ethan's ass out in order to raise his salary❤.

•Ok, and now the cherry on top of a shitty chapter. Do y'all remember how we were afraid PB was gonna make Harper MC's rival? It seemed like they had dropped that plot and we were safe... but it turns out they haven't. Harper finds out our patient has cheated their way into the trial and while Tobias and MC are bonding in the DT' office, she comes in furious as hell, and starts blaming the MC and insulting them, assuming they're the one who did the trial thing. Harper' screams are so loud that Ramsey, who was in the hall, listens and comes in running. Harper explains what "MC" did and we have three options: blame Ethan, insist we're not guilty but not blame Ethan, and ignore the accusations. Either way, Harper keeps on with the accusations (she's even more enraged if you blame Ethan)

•Ethan lets her mop the floor with MC a bit more before stopping her and admitting he's the one who cheated. Harper is shocked and Ramsey HAS THE AUDACITY of angrily leave the office. He really thinks he's the one who should be outraged in this situation. He's the most childish character PB has ever created. (Props to Tobias for being the only decent character in this situation, asking Harper to calm down because she couldn't know for sure it MC was to blame in this situation).

•MC runs after him. And sure, irl I'd run after him too, but to confront him and complain about all the mess his shitty behavior has caused (or, how we say in my country, putearlo. I wanna clarify to my fellow Latinoamericans, "putear" has a different meaning in Ecuador than in the rest of Latam lmao for us is similar to "mandar a la verga" JAJSJAJAJSK). But no, MC fucking goes to see if he's alright. And cue to the most ridiculous scene in this series:

•Okay, I know we all made fun of the BDSM outfits when the assets came out, and yeah, they're cringey af, but I was curious to see how the story would develop towards these outfits. Everyone guessed they meant kinky time with out LIs. Wrong again. Ethan is so mad about... well, idk why he's so mad, he's just facing the consequences of his actions, but anyway, he needs to release that frustration and that's when we're offered the kinky outfit. Yep, the kinky scene is Ethan-exclusive. It was so fucking easy to include the other LIs in this. Bryce could be frustrated because he's not the same after his failed surgery, Jackie because she has to lead the interns and Jade keeps screwing up, and Raf... well, he should be mad because PB tried to kill him and then decided not to but kept sidelining him and can't even give him a decent storyline could be frustrated because it's exhausting to try to help the patients when they make little progress and become disappointed. PB just was lazy and didn't care.

•Don't ask me about the BDSM scene, nothing in this world will make me read a sex scene with Ethan. I kept scrolling until I was sure that abomination was over. Although I caught the word "safe word" somewhere there so... yeah.

•The next day after that heated discussion, MC enters the DT' office. Harper doesn't even offer an apology for treating MC like shit, she acts like nothing happened. MC notices there's this peace in the air and there's no whining, so they ask where's Ethan

•Turns out, Harper reported MC to their superiors when she thought it was them who messed up the trial and now Ethan had to turn himself in and is meeting with the board. Then, she blatantly admits that if she knew Ethan was the one who did it, she would have talked to him first. She says she regrets telling the board, although, as she doesn't offer MC an apology, it seems she only regrets getting Ethan in trouble, not her awful attitude. Tobias is named the new leader of the DT, and that's the only highlight in this mess of a chapter.

I have more thoughts about everything, but I'll post them tomorrow, when they can reach more people. And I'll catch up with this shitt book just so I can join the mob law tomorrow lmao. See you then.

#playchoices #choices #choices stories you play #open heart #open heart 3 #open heart third year #oh 3 #choices oh #bryce lahela #jackie varma #rafael aveiro

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octalove · 4 years

Text

Back Then

(Batsis/Jason Todd/Dick Grayson)

Description: Reader’s little brother is having some trouble adjusting to his new life. Sad toward the end.

The sun was bashfully hiding behind some thin gray clouds, not unusual for any given afternoon. Leaning against my still-warm black Maybach 57, I tried not to grow impatient. “Maybe he joined an after school activity.” Dick mumbled through the Twix bar I’d picked up for him at the vending machine during lunch. He was sitting in the front seat, with the window rolled down, listening to Adele. I rolled my eyes, knowing full well that Jason Peter Todd would rather be skinned than join an after school activity. Still, though, Gotham Preparatory School for Boys had let out eleven minutes ago, and most of the other boys had gotten into their parent’s cars and sped away to their uptown abodes. Dick and I had come straight from Gotham Academy, punctual as usual, so as to avoid a folly of disapproving glares from dad and Alfred at dinner tonight. Where the hell was that kid?

“Maybe he ran away. Joined the circus.” Dick tried again. “Maybe I’m gonna put you in a circus.” “Back in a circus.” He corrected with a grin. Finally, at 4:15, Jason emerged from the school’s artfully carved wooden doors. His head was bowed, dark hair sticking up in all different directions, brow furrowed. He looked small in his school uniform, plaid socks and disheveled blazer. He hugged a book to his chest. A leathery hand lay on his shoulder, attached to a spindly man in his late 50’s, with receding salt and pepper hair, and golden oval glasses perched on his beak-like nose. I narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms, and upon spotting me, the man turned pale as a ghost, just as Jason looked up to reveal a purple bruise under his eye. He snapped his gaze back down. Dick quickly assessed the situation as well, and hopped out of the car, standing equal to me at a solid 5’8, but with all the toned muscle of a gymnast since walking age. We were about to play good cop bad cop- me, the polite, sophisticated elder sister who didn’t want to involve her egregiously powerful father, unless provoked by lack of cooperation, and Dick, the ill-tempered 15-year-old brother ready to raise hell if he didn’t get a good idea of what the fuck happened.

“Headmaster Ellison.” I said tersely, smoothing out my Gotham Academy uniform. I was thoroughly familiar with him from Dick’s days at the prep school- he’d called him Headmaster Hellison, and had a catalogue of grievances as long as his list of unfinished assignments.

“Ah, Miss Wayne. You look lovely today.” I had to steel my face into something vaguely agreeable, because even though it appeared he was the one afraid of me, I was 17 and in a schoolgirl skirt, and something about getting complimented by old men always skeeved me.

“What happened?” I cut right to the point, deciding small talk might soften my resolve, and I was in the mood for this to piss me off.

“Well, you see, we had a small incident today-“

“It’s okay! Can we go home?” Jason piped up abruptly and nervously, eyes pleading with me to let it go. Unfortunately, Waynes skewed toward long grudges.

“Come here, let me see.” I said more softly. Stiffly, Jason trudged across the neatly cut grass, still avoiding my eye. The bruise itself wasn’t bad, but I could tell it had just begun to bloom.

The Headmaster cleared his throat. “Jason has been encountering some problems with some of the other boys. This wouldn’t be the first incident, but it did escalate this time-“

“Not the first incident?” I clipped.

“It never got physical before, just some small verbal altercations that we easily handled.”

“Obviously they weren’t handled.” It was Dick’s turn to interrupt. It always struck me how he could make his voice go from lazily playful to stark and authoritative, biting off words almost as effectively as dad. Who needed Batman and Robin when Y/N Wayne and Dick Grayson were on the case?

“Please, can we just go? I’m okay, honest.” Jason begged, grabbing my hand and tugging just a little. His bronzed face was all swollen and puffy- not just from the fight. I could tell his eyes were rimmed with red. But he looked at me with all the determination and bravado of a street rat from Gotham, and my heart always bled for him in that regard. I sighed.

“Well, I have violin practice here shortly, Headmaster Ellison, so I’m going to take my brother home,” I bit off the brother part with a special zeal to emphasize that Jason Todd, no matter his name or background, was a Wayne, and I was his reminder. “And my father will be calling this evening to handle it once he gets off work.” Work that includes being able to liquidize this whole school right into his bank account in the time it takes to send an email.

“Get in, Jason.” I said. He did.

After a silent ride home, in which Dick tried to coax the full story out of an increasingly moody Jason, we arrived back at the manor whereupon I briefed Alfred, concerned, supportive, and called dad, exasperated, quiet. I let my little brother stew in his room until later that night, when I finally got tired of waiting him out and knocked on the door.

“Jaybird.” I cooed softly.

“…”

“Jay. If I open this door and you’re not there, I will set up the largest manhunt this city has ever witnessed.”

“I’m okay.” A quiet voice called back, sounding annoyed.

“May I come in?” I asked.

“…”

“Ok.”

I cracked the door open. He was balled up in his window nook, engrossed in a book. The room was dark, and he was reading with a flashlight, which was really unnecessary because he had about a dozen lamps, including a really cool lava lamp that Dick had gotten him. He’d changed out of his uniform and into pants and a hoodie, his hood pulled over with the strings pulled taut. He glanced down at the keys in my hand, narrowing his eyes.

“Come on.” I said.

“Where?”

“You haven’t eaten since you got home, kiddo.” His gaze fell askance. When it came to Jason, food was the way to ensure the answer was yes, whatever the question was.

“Can you bring me back something?” He grumbled quietly after a moment. I shook my head.

“I’m going to Sherman’s. Dine in only. One time offer.” I said with a smile. He frowned.

“I don’t wanna talk to Bruce.”

“Bruce isn’t coming. Just you and me. And we don’t even have to talk.” After some consideration, he pulled himself from his nook and brushed past me on his way out. I grinned to myself. Too easy.

Sherman’s Diner was the finest restaurant experience in Gotham City. The reflection of the neon lights skewed across puddles which danced with the drizzling rain. Fuchsia, cyan, lime green, red. Cracked white tiles and a sign with Sherman himself; a little plump chef man who, despite his jovial countenance and enthusiastic smile, appeared to be weeping tears of rust. Inside, the floor was unswept, the tables a bit sticky from all the no-show teenage staff of the payroll, and one of the lights above a lonely booth flickered. Jason loved it. The waitresses loved him.

“Come on in and sit down, hun, we’ll get ya some coffee!” A blonde woman called from behind the counter. One thing about Gothamites and Diners, black coffee was a 24/7 ordeal; 9pm on a school night was no exception. I let Jason pick the booth- he usually went for the same one, creature of habit that he was. We slid into the cool, torn red leather and neither of us needed to look at the menu. We sipped our coffees quietly for a while- Jason pretending to like it because it was the worldly thing to do. He’d never admit that he only started after he saw that dad and I always passed on sugar and cream.

It seemed our little evening standoff was going to bleed into the night. I took it as an opportunity to show him how patient I could be when necessary. The waitress- Darcy- set down a small slice of Oreo cake on the table. For him. Finally, he sighed, taking a bite of it.

“I hate school.” He mumbled.

“The school? Or the kids?” He didn’t answer. “What happened, Jay? Last week you loved school.”

“I like English.” He offered.

“Jason.” I said, leaning forward and folding my hands on the table. Food hadn’t worked. Patience was out the window. It was time to apply pressure. “If you don’t tell me who hit you, I, on my honor as a Wayne, am obligated to track down every snotty little boy who ever set foot in Gotham Prep and hit their snotty little faces to see how they like it.”

Jason’s lips tugged into a smile, which he fought, and eventually lost. So he hid it behind his cake. But after a minute, his smile fell. Something else crossed his face and he looked out the window.

“I hit first.” He said quietly. Solemnly. I blinked at him, surprised.

“You did?”

“Yeah. Jared Mullins. I hit him first.”

“Why?”

He sniffed, furrowing his brow to try and fool me into believing he was something tougher than a ten year old boy. Maybe he was. Tougher than the likes of whoever the hell Jared Mullins was. “He said…”

I waited.

“He said I was poor. Said I don’t belong at the school. That Bruce only took me in cause he felt sorry for me.”

“Sounds like he deserved to get hit.” I sipped my coffee. He didn’t smile again. A beat passed in its place.

“I don’t know why I hit him.”

“Because it was a stupid thing to say.” He shook his head.

“That’s not it. He was right.”

My heart fluttered in my chest. “Jason! The fuck he was. You know that’s not true.” Alfred would’ve been appalled to have me cuss in front of him, as if it wasn’t a large majority of his vocabulary since before he came to the manor.

“You don’t get it.” He said, eyes glued to the rain on the window. “You’re his daughter. His real daughter.”

“And Dick isn’t his real son?” Dick was usually the one to advise him when his legitimacy came into question, not me. Because in truth, I didn’t understand. Jason didn’t answer the question. A plate of chicken tenders and fries appeared, but they went untouched.

“Look at me please.” He did.

“It doesn’t matter that you’re not dad’s real son. And it definitely doesn’t matter that Jared whoever the hell thinks so or not. Dad took you in because of who you are, and everything you’re going to be. You belong in this family and wherever else you go, because you’re worthy of everything Gotham has to offer- and more.”

Jason’s face crumpled a little before he composed himself, blinking fast and wrestling with the emotion. He didn’t say thanks, but that was thanks enough.

“Hey. Did you see how scared Headmaster Hellison was?” I asked smugly.

A small smile. “Yeah.”

“That’s because you’re one of us. And we scare the piss out of people like him and Jared Mullins. Cause we’re a damn good family.”

Jason smiled at me. “Yeah. I guess we are.”

People like us

I watched- all I could do was watch. There was no way in hell I could stop him. The Jason that stood before me was 6’3 and impenetrable. Even if I thought I could get the gun from his hand, I wasn’t going to save anyone. The only thing about himself he kept when he drug himself out of the grave was his stubborn conviction. Anyone he wanted dead would wind up that way.

Scare the piss out of people like him.

The man let out a guttural, desperate noise as he tried to crawl away, pale as a ghost as Jason stood over him. He was a criminal, to be sure, but not one willing to die for his trade. Evidently, that wasn’t enough.

Cause we’re a damn good family.

“Red Hood! Stand down, now.” Batman’s voice snarled, echoing off of the concrete walls and floor. I flinched. Jason didn’t. A single shot, blood spatter, all the rest. His red monochrome helmet was on the ground, black hair all mussed and disheveled from the fight. A bruise was blooming under his eye.

His gaze flicked up, landing on me. Any trace, any remnant of my brother was gone. The man who came back was a dejected, solemn thing, who carried this dark look in his eye and looked like he could eat me whole. I tried to convey something to him with my eyes. It didn’t appear to take effect.

“You’re late to the party.” His voice rumbled in his chest, and he turned his attention to Batman.

I tried not to let my voice shake as I stepped forward.

“We’re here now.” I said.

His jaw clenched at the sound of my voice. Something grim passed his features.

“Yeah. I guess we are.”

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plasticnightmaredoll · 3 years

Text

(art commission by the lovely and talented @curious-menace)

It is a time where I would like to see what my followers think about various concepts I have in mind pertaining to alternate versions of one my fics. It may take some time to write out any alternate versions since I've been busy and stressed out so much lately, but I am very curious as to what others would find intriguing to read.

But first, some backstory so be patient. We'll get to the voting at the end of this post.

I've been having a lot of bad days lately, and my mood has plummeted to a major low. This includes my self-esteem, which has always been in the dumps but is now basically a dumpster fire.

However, I don't want to be entirely cruel to myself. I deserve some sort of happiness, some sort of reprieve, and writing can be a good coping mechanism. I put a lot of my own thoughts, emotions, struggles, opinions, etc. into my works, as they serve as a way for me to get things off my chest. Sometimes, it's just cute and funny stuff, other times angsty but eventually fluffy stuff, and other times it's quite depressing and dark.

One fic, in particular, stands out, and that is the Mortal Kombat/Batman Arkhamverse crossover, "Volunteer," (trigger warnings: mentions psychological torture and suicide...more about this fic in a bit for those who would rather not read it because of those triggers) which features Arkham Knight Edward Nigma and Jonathan Crane, as well as a lady friend for Edward named Sara. It also features Erron Black and Cassie Cage from Mortal Kombat (Cassie is only mentioned in the story a few times).

If you read the blog intro/self-introduction post pinned at the top of my Tumblr, you know very well how I feel about Cassie Cage (particularly in MK11) and the Erron Black x Cassie Cage (BlackCage) pairing. Those negative feelings are mostly due to a very bad experience with a pushy BlackCage fan who just wouldn't relent one bit on their stance and it was emotionally and mentally draining to try and talk to them, including providing counter-arguments.

I've come up with alternate versions for "Volunteer" recently due to the spike in stress, depression, anxiety, and insecurities I've been dealing with as of late. This is where my followers come in!

I would like people to vote on which alternate take on "Volunteer" they would be interested in reading. Now, I can't guarantee when I'd get to it because, as I mentioned already, I've got a lot going on. However, I really want to try and write at least one alternate version of that fic, just to get some insecurities and negative thoughts off my chest.

Now, for those who are wary of reading "Volunteer" because of the trigger warnings, here's my advice: Just read the first chapter, if you want to. Chapter 2 deals directly with the sensitive subject matter, although, you can probably guess what happens anyway just by reading Chapter 1 and if you know anything about Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow...well, he likes to mess with people...mentally. To put it very mildly.

Now it's time for the voting. I have three different scenarios I've come up with that are variations/alternate versions of the current "Volunteer" fic's concept/storyline. I'd like followers to select 1 (one) alternate telling of the fic. I will open anonymous asks again, so if you are shy or just want your vote to remain a secret for some other reason, then that's fine by me. Otherwise, you can reply to this post with your choice.

Edit: if you are turned off by the idea of a Mortal Kombat/Batman Arkhamverse crossover, I get it. I don't read crossover fics myself, and that's usually because the crossovers either make no sense or do make sense but the ideas are poorly executed.

This crossover I'm talking about, though, isn't a full-on crossover of MK and Batman. There's no world-building, no larger plot, and no other characters in MK even appear or are mentioned except Erron Black and Cassie Cage.

If anything, it's more of a Batman Arkhamverse standard AU with Riddler and a female oc, and Erron and Cassie are the only concrete elements of MK brought in. I mean, yes, the other MK characters exist, I guess, but they have no purpose in this crossover I've written, and won't make any appearances.

So, if you had any concerns about the crossover aspect, I hope this clears things up

Choices below the cut!

A) "Don't You Wish"

This version is inspired by a song from Pink, called, "There You Go." In this alternate telling, Erron manages to survive Scarecrow's fear toxin, and escape (most likely because Erron is out of his mind and panicking, thus not a threat, and he has no one to help him, so Scarecrow doesn't give a damn what happens to the dude). The first thing Erron does is go to Sara's place, having already broken up with Cassie after realizing dating her was a mistake, and Sara means more to him than he thought.

Well, it's been several months since Sara basically pushed Erron out of her life for his poor choice in women, and (Arkham Knight) Edward Nigma has proven to be a much better (and, wiser and more sensible -- yes, I know, but he's not a skirt chaser, Guys) friend to Sara. While Erron ran off with a blonde selfie princess, Edward offered genuine comfort and companionship, and now Sara has been in the process of moving on from Erron even further.

Sara humors Erron and lets him tell her -- while sounding terrified, confused, and conflicted beyond belief thanks to the fear toxin -- what happened to him. Now, Sara doesn't know Edward asked Scarecrow to take care of Erron as a means of getting revenge for her. Doesn't matter anyway. She's unsympathetic towards Erron's plight, feeling as if he didn't even give her a chance to confess her feelings towards him, nor did he even seem to notice how she felt; it was like he was too busy with thinking with his privates to realize he had someone in front of him who would have treated him better.

Sara tells Erron -- in a flat, disinterested tone -- that his situation is tragic and all but wtf is she supposed to do? Why not go to his dumb blonde gf? Oh, they broke up? Well, how predictable. And Crane is also a (sort of) friend to Sara, which shocks Erron and leaves him feeling worse than before.

Sara sends Erron on his way, and he wanders off in a daze, unsure of what to do with his life now.

Sara and Edward meet the next day, and they have a pleasant time, obviously moving towards becoming a couple. She chooses not to mention Erron as she is completely severing the cowboy from her life.

B) "I Don't Even Miss You"

This alternate telling is similar to the previous one, but this time it's inspired by a Miley Cyrus song, "WTF Do I Know" (Hey, her Plastic Hearts album is actually fantastic!), and Edward is with Sara when Erron arrives at her place in a distressed state. At first, Sara deals with Erron in the hall of her apartment building, unsympathetic to his plight and basically telling him, "I told you so," and "too bad." Erron is getting more and more upset, even angry at Sara's callous tone, and starts to raise his voice, demanding to know why she is being so cold at a time like this?

Edward overhears Erron raising his voice to Sara, giving her a difficult time, and he gets pissed. Edward steps out into the hall and not only mocks Erron in various ways, but demands that he leave immediately, or what Scarecrow did will seem like a trip to Disney Land. Erron has caused Sara -- who is currently moving on and growing closer to Edward -- enough problems and heartache.

Edward reveals he set up Erron, and while Sara is stunned to find this out, she handles it better than expected. Edward said it was his way of getting revenge for her, and he'd do it again if need be. Erron is sent away feeling so much worse, feeling lost, hopeless, and betrayed.

Sara and Edward talk and she admits she's upset that he did something like this without speaking about it to her first. However, he explains that he genuinely did it for her and he doesn't want her to feel pain at the hands of some "idiotic cowman," who doesn't consider the feelings of others and who behaves like a greedy, violent Neanderthal. (And yes, Edward does care for Sara, and he didn't send Scarecrow after Erron out of jealousy -- maybe a little jealousy but it was mostly rage over Erron causing Sara so much emotional pain)

Sara means more to Edward than he can express, and he may not be the best when it comes to emotions, but he does care about her and wants her to be safe.

Sara forgives Edward, understanding that, through his heartfelt but very nervous and shy confession that he is sincere about his feelings for her, and they make amends. She of course tells him to never do something so extreme without consulting her first, though, because what happened to Erron -- while she doesn't care what happens to him in the slightest -- was a bit too much.

C) "Listen When the Devil's Calling"

Another title inspired by a Miley Cyrus song, "Night Crawling," and this alternate telling involves Telltale Riddler and no Scarecrow. Almost a year has passed since Erron went with Cassie and Sara, out of bitterness and heartache, refused to speak or see him. This didn't sit well with him as she was his only friend, and his relationship with Cassie dies within a few months.

He goes looking for Sara, realizing she has moved out of her apartment. It doesn't take him long to find out where she is, and she's with The Riddler, a notorious criminal genius and one of Gotham's elite villains. Erron is worried for Sara and seeks her out.

Turns out, Sara's just fine. This isn't one of those scenarios where the girl is with a guy who just using her and taking advantage of her vulnerability. No, Edward does actually love her and takes good care of her. He finds people like reckless, selfish, and ignorant people like Erron to be a disgrace but also amusing because of how pathetically primitive they are.

Edward also doesn't appreciate how Erron pushed aside a good thing in Sara to pursue a girl who is a social media brat and has more selfies on her phone than brain cells in her, well, brain. It defies all logic to Edward, but he's also not surprised because of how much of a disappointment Erron is as a human being (hey, this is Riddler we're talking about, and he's not one to be sweet and gentle to those he can't stand). Edward doesn't say these things out loud, though, as it's a bit too vulnerable and personal for him to do such a thing with someone he doesn't know or trust.

Sara is upset that Erron has resurfaced and she remembers how heartbroken she was when he went after Cassie Cage. She wants Erron to leave her alone like she asked, so she can move on. She can't trust him anymore, because he's just a skirt chaser in her eyes.

Erron tries to plead his case, tries to apologize to Sara, and expresses how he really feels, but this just distresses her further. Edward steps in and tells Erron he's done enough to Sara, she clearly doesn't want to see him, and he needs to take his leave.

This isn't a request.

Edward pulls Erron aside, telling the cowboy that the only reason he's going to walk away from this alive is that Sara hasn't asked for him to be killed. Should she tell Edward to take care of Erron, well, you all know what Telltale Riddler is like.

And those are the three variations on "Volunteer."

If you could be so kind as to:

leave a comment with your choice or

send an ask (even an anon ask) with your choice or

suggest your take on this story.

I'd appreciate it immensely!

Thank you all so much for supporting me and my writing and being patient with my sluggish publishing schedule!

#edward nigma #riddler #arkham knight riddler #edward nigma x oc #riddler x oc #edward nygma #edward nygma x oc #crossover fic #arkhamverse #arkham riddler #telltale riddler

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vintage-brass-tc · 3 years

Text

4/26/2021 — 4/30/2021

This week felt like an entire MONTH, haha. W and I had a LOT of interactions as it progressed, both brief and prolonged, and it was all in a positive light. Some I don’t even know how to explain, so I won’t include everything. 😳

I won’t keep you waiting any longer. Off to the highlights!!

||||||||||||||||||||||||

One thing that pops up in my mind first thing is when W had my and a few other sections lead an exercise for the whole class. Throughout the whole thing, I would look at him every chance I got because…you know. He’s basically a model.

I think he noticed my attention, as he would occasionally stop to stare at me as well throughout the whole playing session.

Pretty soon after this, he told us to sing an exercise out loud so we could pay attention to how we articulated our notes. He decided it would be fun to stand right next to me as it progressed, maybe because of our eye contact earlier.

After one attempt at his request, he was just shy of four feet away from me. He told everyone to sing louder, articulate faster, and pay more attention to where their tongue was hitting inside their mouths.

Challenge accepted.

I did as W said and began to sing more loud and precisely. Right when the second rep began, he didn’t even try to mask his attention on me. His head was dipped low with a serious glow in his looming eyes, under furrowed eyebrows. I mirrored his face and his head’s position with a deeply concentrated and challenging expression, relaxing my brows in a more intense manner as well.

We remained unblinking and frozen as we gazed at each other, all despite my moving tongue as I articulated, and the unconscious smirk growing on my face.

When I felt the most in control, sitting perfectly still, focusing on nothing but W’s eyes, The firmness of his gaze faltered slightly. His serious expression began to fall into one more of…intimidation? I’ve never seen that side of him before.

This slightly fearful switch lasted for a second until he swiftly returned to his regular level of composure, which meant he was staring me down once again.

This interaction only lasted four seconds, but it felt like four whole minutes.

He turned away just before the exercise ended to tell the class it sounded better. He stammered and giggled just slightly before cheerfully stating that we would be doing this again. Wonder why he was so cheerful? Haha.

There was this specific wave W would always give to me. One arm would extend straight outwards whether it be up or to the side, and his fingers would fold as if he were holding a cone inside them. His fingers would wiggle a little bit to compensate for his unmoving arms. You could call it an erect finger-wave, I guess.

Although, despite this, there was one moment that contradicts my statement.

I approached him and greeted him as he was turned around. “W?” I asked. Immediately he turned his body over to me and looked at me with big, curious eyes.

When I opened my mouth to ask him a question, he interrupted me with a small, adorably shy wave. I couldn’t help but feel myself get weak over how cute this guy was. I waved back and muttered a ‘hi’.

We kept staring at each other wordlessly for a few moments until I regained my train of thought and spoke up once again.

I was walking back from putting my instrument case away, then I encountered W saying goodbye to another student. He was playfully kidding around with them by mimicking their low-voiced ‘bye’. After he repeated that while watching the kid leave, probably embarrassed, he glanced at me with a smile.

I stepped close to him until our faces were somehow six inches apart. I think he may have leaned in to listen, I’m not sure. Anyway, his overconfident face was one of pride and power. His lip curved into a smirk and his eyes shined, revealing a hint of mischief and dominance.

Regardless of this man’s godly facial appearance in that setting, I continued with my own smug statement. “You love making fun of people, don’t you?”

He merely smirked a bit more and turned around as if he was avoiding the question. I watched him walk away, dumbfounded and lifting an eyebrow.

This man has many sides to him. It’s a little bizarre.

As I have mentioned, I’ve been helping W out with some band stuff after school. It was awesome getting to spend time with him and learn more about what he does every day as a band director. One of the days I was assisting, I ran into him whenever I was on the phone with someone (it was on speaker), and he just looked surprised.

Though I was still on the line, I asked him if he needed help with the pretty loaded white box he was carrying. He politely declined then thanked me for my help that night after passing me, seeing that I was heading out.

“Sure!” I responded. It was pretty nice hearing that thanks from him. A few moments later I looked back at him in curiosity. He looked down inside his box, then bumped it slightly, like one would do with a baby.

It was so cute.

As I walked to put my tuba away, I began to eavesdrop on W and a couple kids talking.

“When I wasn’t fat, I ran 5 miles every day,” I specifically heard him exclaim. While others found it humorous, the statement caused many questions to pop up in my head.

He’s not fat, what the heck is he talking about?

Maybe he got bigger at some point as a kid?

Or maybe he really does think he’s fat right now?

…Is he insecure about his weight?

With these questions swirling around in my mind, I opened my case to pack my tuba in it. The surrounding conversation died down during the process.

Around a minute later, he started working on his laptop, relocating to his usual spot by the table near the tuba stands.

This time he stood in the corner closest to the podium, facing forward (my right).

I slowly strolled up and didn’t need to greet him, because I noticed he turned towards me. He was slightly tense for some reason. After stopping about a foot away, I gave him a serious and empathetic look.

“You’re not fat. Be quiet,” I told him.

He gave me a look like he was equally disturbed as he was intrigued. Like he didn’t know what I was talking about, and I was crazy for thinking this way.

It was also kind of like how someone would look at a person with three heads.

“I’m not what I used to be.” He replied genuinely and quietly, maintaining the serious eye contact.

“You look fiine,” I hesitated slightly before PATTING HIS RIGHT SHOULDER ONCE WITH MY LEFT HAND AS HE TURNED WEST.

He smiled a subtle amount when I did this and didn’t tense up or anything whenever I touched him, even though we had never really made physical contact purposefully before.

||||||||||||||||||||||||

Aaand I’ll end it there. These are the highlights of this week — except I’ve decided to move Friday’s event moments to ANOTHER post! So no M yet...but brace yourselves!

Stay safe! Thank you all for sticking patiently with me and my TC adventures.

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riotwritesthings · 5 years

Text

Tony Learns Something New

SteveTony, Extremely E, 11k, PWP, complete and utter filth y’all, pre-serum!Steve, vague non-powered AU (check AO3 tags for more info)

This is all Stella’s fault, she put the idea in my head and it just TOOK OVER. And Ant encouraged me. This is the filthiest thing I’ve ever written, and yes I’m including the tentacle porn.

ANYWAYS, skinny Steve is hung like a horse and he fucks the way he lives his life, like he’s got something to prove. Thanks for coming to my Tedtalk.

I have nothing to say for myself except NO SHAME 2020. Come get your porn.

In which Tony finds out that his tiny artist boyfriend is not a nice boy. In the best possible way.

Tony likes Steve Rogers. He really, really likes Steve Rogers. He might even love Steve, if Tony could let himself think about things like that without giving himself a panic attack. Steve is short, he’s adorable, he’s twenty pounds of smartass in a five pound bag and he is one hundred percent always down to fight. Tony knows enough about art to know that Steve is good, but he still blushes so adorably when Tony tells him so. He’s also sweet, and thoughtful, he’s a little bit goofy and fun, and Tony is constantly learning amazing new things about him.

Okay fine, so maybe Tony is already dangerously in love with Steve Rogers. They’ve only been dating a couple weeks, and Tony is already gone. So Tony wants to do this right, take his time, Steve is special, and he’s worth it. Tony doesn't want to ruin this by being his usual easy, straight-to-the-sack-and-dinner-after self.

Which is why Tony pulls himself away when the kiss starts to get a little heated, forces himself to settle for one last, short kiss to Steve’s soft lips before he leans back. “Sorry,” Tony says, a little sheepish, and prepares to settle back in to watch more weirdly intense cooking shows. They’re just having a nice stay-in date, curled up barefoot on Steve’s couch, it’s cozy and domestic and Tony is perfectly happy with this, he really is. No matter what his libido keeps trying to convince him.

What Tony is not prepared for, is to be abruptly and aggressively bowled over, landing on his back on the soft couch with barely enough time to blink in confusion before Steve is on him. Steve presses his way between Tony’s thighs, buries his fingers in Tony’s hair, and then proceeded to kiss all the air straight out of his lungs.

“What’re you sorry for?” Steve asks in between toe-curling flicks of his tongue against Tony’s, “other than drivin’ me crazy?”

“Uh,” Tony says brightly, and then shivers all over when Steve bites sharply at his lip. Tony can’t say anything for several long minutes, mostly because Steve’s tongue is doing its best to get intimately acquainted with every inch of his mouth, but finally he scrapes together the brain cells to offer “I’ve been trying not to push you?”

Steve laughs against his jaw, and yeah, Tony can admit that seems a little ridiculous now, with Steve sprawled out on top of him like he’s just been dying for the chance to get there. “Tony,” Steve says patiently, and then bites at his jaw hard enough to startle a moan out of him, “I have been waiting t’ get inside you for weeks now.”

Which is, okay, not exactly how Tony had expected this to go, apparently Steve’s ‘wholesome good guy’ personality is hiding a bit of a freak underneath. Tony can work with that, he’s a flexible guy, so to speak, and he’s about to let Steve know how completely on board he is with that plan when Steve shifts, lines their hips up just right to grind himself against Tony’s hip, and Tony’s brain completely whites out.

Because here’s another fun thing Tony has just now learned about Steve Rogers, for all that he’s a skinny, big-talking little shit, he apparently backs that up by having a monster cock. Jesus, Tony can only hope that thing is already fully hard because if not he’s honestly a little worried for Steve’s blood pressure. He snaps out of his thoughts when Steve leans back just enough to pull his shirt off, his slim, pale chest sending Tony’s brain into another tailspin before Steve is crashing down on top of him, kissing him again.

“H-holy fuck,” Tony finally gasps out, legs snapping up to wrap around Steve’s narrow waist, grinding up aginst him because he just has to double check that thing is real. “What the- are you serious?” He can’t help asking breathlessly, and then gasps when it twitches against the crease of his thigh, thick and long and a little terrifying.

Steve laughs softly, then props himself up on his arms to better roll his hips down against Tony’s. “You wanna feel it, baby?” He asks, a frankly spine-melting smirk spreading across his face, “‘cause I’ve been thinkin’ about it. Been thinkin’ about it a lot. The way you’d look wrapped around me, takin’ me, stretched so wide you can’t take anymore. You wanna feel that, too?”

“Hnng,” Tony says around a stunned groan, and then makes a couple other garbled sounds as Steve grinds against him again, with intent, and oh fuck that’s definitely Steve’s cock lined up aginst his taint now, the head twitching and nudging against Tony’s balls while the base presses against his ass and holy fuck. Tony’s never been a size queen, okay, but he is shaking at the thought of having all of that inside him.

“Tony?” Steve asks, pausing the steady roll of his rips to raise an eyebrow at him, “no thoughts? You seem... uncharacteristically quiet.”

“I thought you were a nice boy!” Tony blurts, and then can’t help laughing just a little at how scandalized it came out. Steve laughs along with him at least, leaning down just a little so his breath washes hot over Tony’s lips.

“I can play the blushing virgin, if that’s what you were expecting,” Steve offers, but the way he’s slowly pressing his hips into Tony’s again and dragging his lips tantalizingly over Tony’s makes Tony wonder if that’s actually a thing he’s capable off.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Tony says quickly, because sure he’s a little (or a lot) shocked, but he’s sure as hell not complaining. To prove his point he tightens his thighs around Steve’s hips, drags both palms up Steve’s chest as he says “can’t just taunt a man like that and then not follow through, you gotta show me what you got now, honey.”

“I’ll show you what I got,” Steve says, voice full of the kind of dark promise Tony wouldn’t have thought him capable of five minutes ago and already wants to see so much more of. Steve leans down to kiss him again, just long enough for Tony to start sinking into it, and then pulls away and grins at the sound of Tony’s desperate whine. “I’m gonna eat you out until you’re sloppy and begging for it,” he says, matter of fact, like he’s announcing the weather.

“F-fuck,” Tony gasps, hips jerking up and Steve just rolls with the motion, one of his hands slipping into the open collar of Tony’s shirt as he bites his way along Tony’s jaw.

“Gonna fuck you open, Tony,” Steve breathes into his ear, hot and so filthy, holy shit. “Get you so loose I can slide right back in, so easy, stuff you so full you feel me for days.” He pauses to nip at Tony’s earlobe and lets out a low groan as Tony’s arms slide around his back and haul him in closer. “Does that sound good to you, sweetheart?” He asks, slender, paint-stained thumb stroking over the hollow of Tony’s throat.

“Yes,” Tony chokes out, eyes squeezed shut because if Steve says one more sexy as fuck thing than this might all be over before it even starts. “Fuck yes, all- all of that, fuck-“ he adds, just in case Steve didn’t get the memo, and then whines pitifully when Steve’s hand slides away from him, when Steve starts pulling away.

“Then we need to move,” Steve says, equal parts patient and smug as he starts detangling their limbs and pushes himself to his feet. “I wanna spread you out proper, can’t do that on the couch,” he adds, holding out a hand and Tony lets himself be pulled to his feet in a slight daze.

“Right, of course, because you have plans,” Tony says around a short burst of giggles, and then shivers again when Steve gives him a slow smirk. Tony’s shivers only get harder when Steve steps into his space, wraps his arms around Tony’s waist and digs slender yet surprisingly strong fingers into his ass through his jeans.

“You have no idea,” Steve says, voice low and rough, then leans up and kisses him. Tony drapes his arms around Steve’s shoulders, the perfect height, and he’s not even embarrassed to admit that he’s leaning on Steve pretty heavily as they stumble their way to the bedroom because the way Steve’s tongue presses demandingly between his lips has Tony’s knees going weak.

Thank god they’re at Steve’s apartment, because as much as he’s a hot-shot successful artist he’s also endearingly modest, and his taste in housing reflects that. It means that at least it’s a short stumble to the bedroom, and then Steve is pressing Tony up against the wall and tugging impatiently at his shirt.

“Been dreaming about gettin’ my hands on you,” Steve breathes out against his lips, grinding himself against Tony’s thigh and driving him insane. “Wanna see you fall apart, gorgeous. Wanna memorize every second of it, leave my mark all over you, inside an’ out.”

“Gonna draw me like one of your french girls?” Tony tries to joke even though it does not at all hide the way his hands are shaking as he reaches for the button of Steve’s jeans, pausing only to shrug his shirt off when Steve starts shoving it down his shoulders.

“Yeah,” Steve says, dead serious, then kisses him again as he tugs Tony away from the wall and starts shoving him towards the bed, stepping out of his own pants along the way. “Gonna draw the way you look when you sob for me, the way your perfect ass looks when it’s swollen an’ used and leakin’ my come. Hang it on my fuckin’ mantle.”

Tony is too busy gasping and moaning and turning to jelly to even try and fight it when Steve shoves him backwards, just goes sprawling down across the bed. Tony can’t help letting out a soft whine, only a little terrified, at the sight of Steve standing above him, huge cock tenting his boxers so hard that the fabric looks strained and visibly leaking at the tip.

Steve smirks, like he knows exactly what Tony is staring at, that Tony’s heart is tripping all over itself in his chest, then starts tugging Tony’s pants and underwear down all in one go. Tony’s legs are still hanging awkwardly half off the bed and he has to resist the urge to clench his thighs closed under Steve’s dark gaze, feeling incredibly exposed because he knows how good Steve is at recreating a scene from memory.

Then Steve steps back, gets Tony’s pants free of his feet and tosses them away before saying “roll over.” It’s almost a relief to be able to press his burning face into the sheets, and Tony lets out a sigh that turns into a squeak as Steve’s hands land on his ass the second he’s settled. “Your fucking ass, Tony,” Steve groans out, fingers digging in as he pushes and pulls at the muscle. And his fingers might be thin but they’re long, and his palms are wide, and he covers a surprising amount of real estate as he spreads his hands wide and squeezes, pulling Tony’s cheeks apart and sighing “this is the real work of art right here.”

“Steve, Steve, fuck- Ah!” Tony nearly squeals at the cold puff of air against his hole, clenching up reflexively even as he pushes himself back into Steve’s hands.

“So sweet, can’t wait to make you cry,” Steve growls, and Tony’s startled laugh cuts off in a warbling moan as Steve licks firmly over his hole. Steve hums and then does it again, slower, flicks the tip of his tongue over the edge of Tony’s rim.

Tony whines high in his throat, braces his elbows against the mattress and tries to push back into it the next time Steve’s tongue moves over him. “O-oh, god- fuck, Steve,” he gasps, thighs shaking at the strain of holding himself up, still half-sprawled over the edge of the bed.

It draws a frustrated groan out of him when Steve refuses to move any faster, just keeps licking him slow and firm, curling his tongue just a little harder against Tony’s rim with every pass. Steve’s fingers dig in harder when Tony tries to rock back against him, tries to to get more, anything. More of Steve’s breath hot and close against his skin, Steve’s nails digging perfect little crescents into his skin and his tongue slick and wet, working Tony open painfully slow.

“Steve-“ he groans again, drawing it out until it sounds more like a breathy whine than anything. Tony trembles all over as he tries in vain to push himself back against Steve’s tongue and fuck, Steve is barely licking into him and already Tony is losing his goddamn mind, can’t help blurting out “please- Ah!” Tony wails when Steve’s tongue stabs into him, deep, wet and demanding even as Tony clenches around him, and then it’s all he can do not to sob when Steve withdraws.

“Shouldn’t be in such a hurry,” Steve says, voice rough and just loud enough for Tony to hear it over his own heaving breaths, “‘m gonna be here for awhile.” He circles the very tip of his tongue around Tony’s hole, just traces around and around until Tony lets out a desperate whimper and tries to jerk back against him.

Then Steve plunges back in again, starts licking Tony open in earnest as his hands pry Tony’s cheeks even further apart. Every shaking moan and gasp that bursts from Tony’s lungs just seems to egg him on, has him pressing in deeper, scraping his teeth over Tony’s rim everytime he presses in close and then flicking his tongue against the sensitive skin on the withdrawal.

“Shit- holy fuck-“ Tony groans out, fingers catching and clawing at the sheets and every time Steve’s tongue wiggles back into him it sets off another shower of sparks under his skin. He tries to shove himself back harder but Steve just moves with him, keeps the pace exactly what he wants it to be. “Steve, please, please- fuck, oh fuck that’s so good, please-“

Steve huffs out a laugh against his skin, breath hot, and teases his tongue in little circles, just barely dipped inside him, until Tony chokes out a desperate noise and his legs threaten to give out. No matter how much Tony begs, how much he pleads and arches and moans, Steve just keeps fucking going. Until Tony’s entire crack feels sloppy and wet, spit sliding all the way down to his balls and his poor neglected cock leaking against the sheets every time his hips jerk forward. Tony’s not sure when it happened but one of his knees is hitched up on the edge of the mattress, spreading him wide for Steve’s tongue, his arms wrapped up around his head as his every breath comes out a hitching whine.

Finally Steve pulls back, far enough that Tony can only barely feel his breath and Tony has to bite down a desperate moan that wants to burst out of him because he feels so cold, and empty, his oversensitive hole twitching and clenching in the cool air. “Still with me, baby?” Steve asks, voice rough and amused, fingers digging in a little harder along the bottom swell of Tony’s ass.

“Guh,” Tony chokes out, and decides to let himself believe that the sheets beneath his face are not soaked through with drool. “F-fuck, Steve,” he finally manages, lifting his head just a little only to immediatly drop it again with a low groan when Steve’s thumbs dig into his muscle.

“You wanna come like this?” Steve asks, then drags the pointed tip of his tongue over Tony’s hole as if Tony could possibly need the reminder of how amazing that feels. “Or do you wanna see what else I have planned for you?” Steve punctuates that question by pressing his tongue in deep, forcing a reedy moan out of Tony before he pulls back again to ask “what do you think sweetheart, you want more?”

“More,” Tony gasps and he doesn’t even have to think about it, he can’t get the feeling of Steve’s cock out of his mind and fuck yes he wants to feel more.

“Good answer,” Steve says and god, Tony can just hear his smirk, but before Tony can huff at him Steve is dropping a quick kiss to Tony’s wet hole and pulling away entirely. “Wiggle up and roll over for me,” he says, giving Tony’s ass a little shove and then laughing as Tony loose-limbed-flails his way up onto the bed.

Tony can’t even be offended, he’s sure he looks ridiculous but he really doesn’t care because he can feel his pulse everywhere, doubly so in his throbbing cock, and it’s so tempting to just grind himself down against the soft sheets until he comes. It wouldn't even take long, just a couple firm rolls of his hips and he’d be gone. Tony forces himself to flop over onto his back instead, sprawled out and panting.

“Look at you baby,” Steve says from somewhere off to the side, voice low and awed and it sends a shiver up Tony’s spine, has him whining softly as his cock twitches against his stomach. There’s the soft sound of something shifting and then Steve is crawling up onto the bed, lube in hand, and settling between Tony’s splayed legs.

“Fuck,” Tony breathes out because Steve is gloriously naked now, his cock thick and too long to even curve up, standing straight out from his body in a proud jut. Tony swallows hard, gut clenching.

“You look so damn gorgeous right now,” Steve continues, smirking wide like he knows exactly what the sight of him is doing to Tony. “All flushed an’ desperate for me, could just stare at you all night. So damn pretty.”

“Please don’t,” Tony whines, hips jerking up under Steve’s heavy gaze, “I might actually die if- fuck, if you don’t get me off in some spectacular fashion. Preferably soon.”

“I do like a challenge,” Steve says, then leans over Tony to grab one of the pillows from the head of the bed. Tony is nearly too boneless to help as Steve wiggles the pillow under his hips, and then all he can do is blush as it leaves him with his ass in the air and his legs splayed out, completely exposed to Steve’s dark stare.

“Honey,” Tony whines, “please just- oh-” He breaks off in a gasp as Steve presses close, head of his cock nudging up behind Tony’s balls and the thick shaft sliding over his clenching hole. “F-fuck, Steve-“

“I said I want to fuck you open, Tony, and I meant it,” Steve says, low and serious, rolls his hips back until the head of his cock just barely presses against Tony’s hole before pressing forward again. He waits until Tony’s gasping moan trails off to add “wanna make you feel every single inch of me. Wanna carve my way into you so deep you can’t ever get rid of me.” He thrusts against Tony again, watching Tony gasp from beneath his gorgeous eyelashes as he asks “you want that too, baby?”

And Tony has no words, none, it’s all he can do to remember to breathe as he flushes hot everywhere because fuck what an idea. An enticing, arousing, and frankly terrifying idea. Steve’s head tips to the side a little when Tony doesn’t answer, looking unfairly like an adorable puppy and a small part of Tony still can’t believe this is the same man who wants to split Tony open on his monster cock. What the fuck.

Apparently Tony is stuck in ‘stunned silence’ mode for too long because Steve leans down to nose along his throat, voice gentle as he says “you can tell me no, Tony. Whatever you want, we can do anything you want.” And Tony believes him, is the thing, even with the way Steve’s cock is twitching against him, fully believes that Steve would let him change his mind without a word of complaint, would do anything Tony wants.

“I want it,” Tony finally manages to gasp out, because he does, “I want that, want to feel you, fuck-“ He drags his hands up Steve’s back to his shoulder blades, feels the way they shift under Steve’s pale skin as he rolls his hips again, a little harder.

“You will,” Steve promises and bites his way along Tony’s collar bone. “You’re gonna feel me every time you move, everytime you breathe, I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’re not gonna be able to leave this goddamn bed. Keep you right here, nice an’ open for me.”

“Holy fuck,” Tony groans, fingers digging into Steve’s shoulders and tugging at him shakily, “seriously, what- get the fuck up here and kiss me, you filthy little shit.” Steve is laughing as he obediently wiggles up, cock sliding up the crease of Tony’s hip until it presses wetly along Tony’s own leaking cock and then kisses him, deep and heady.

And fuck, Tony has been missing out on so much in his stupid attempts to hold himself back. Even just the way Steve kisses is enough to turn Tony to jelly, hungry and demanding and how the hell did Tony never notice he’s dating a certified freak. That’s the kind of thing he likes to know, so that he can properly appreciate it.

By the time Steve pulls back again Tony has gone full stupid, and all he can do is blink dumbly for a second before Steve’s cock twitches against him and Tony remembers oh right, he’s so worked up he can hardly breathe. “Please fuck me open on your monster cock,” Tony gasps out, and even just saying it sends another shiver through him but he’s really hoping that egging Steve on will force him to finally do something.

When Steve pulls back Tony still whines, because he’d been enjoying that kissing. And then he’s whining for an entirely different reason, gut clenching and heat flashing up his spine as Steve starts lubing himself up. Fuck, Tony’s ass already aches just looking at that thing and he can’t help another impatient noise that has Steve smirking wider.

Steve hooks one hand under Tony’s knee and pushes his leg up, uses the other to press the fat head of his cock against Tony, still slick with spit and quickly smeared with lube. “You ready, baby?” Steve asks, wicked grin on his face as he rubs his cock over Tony’s hole, letting it barely catch on the rim before sliding away again, “you want it?”

“Would you just-“ Tony tries to snap only to break off in a moan when Steve just barely presses inside him before sliding away again, just a teasing burn that has Tony’s legs shaking where one of them is wrapped around Steve’s hip, the other still pushed up towards his chest in Steve’s firm hold. “Steve, fuck-“

“Tell me you want it, Tony,” Steve says, voice deceptively soft considering he’s driving Tony insane and Tony couldn’t stop the whine that drags out of him if he tried.

“I- fuck, oh-“ Tony cuts himself off with another breathy noise as Steve’s cock presses hard against him again, forcing him open around the wide head and fuck Steve’s tongue was nothing compared to this. There’s already lighting shooting up Tony’s spine, every breath coming out as great gasping pants and there’s a small part of him convinced that this isn’t going to work, that he’s going to die. That doesn’t stop him from raising his arms up, stretching up until he can just barely reach the headboard and use that tiny bit of leverage to try and shove himself down against Steve as he gasps out “I want it, please- fuck I w-want it so bad- Steve!”

“Gorgeous,” Steve says, rolling his hips and smiling wide at Tony’s high groan as he presses in a little deeper. Tony makes another soft sound as Steve does it again and the head of his cock finally pops inside, then whines when Steve immediately switches to pulling back, teasing the ridged head against his rim until Tony has to choke down a wet sound. “God you look so good like this,” Steve sighs, finally pressing forward again, just a little bit, sliding in just a little bit deeper, “so fuckin’ pretty, like you don’t even know if you can take it but you want to anyways.”

“Oh- oh my god, fuck-“ Tony moans back because that’s basically the only thing going on in his head, his entire body shaking as fire races through every single nerve ending in his body. Every time Steve presses a little deeper it’s another sharp shock of bright, aching, burning pleasure, every time he withdraws it’s a mix of relief and terrible, echoing emptiness. It’s too much, it’s amazing, the constant back and forth melting every single thought in Tony’s brain and when his next breath comes out uncomfortably close to a sob he doesn’t even try to stop it. “Fuck, Steve-“

“You’re doin’ so good baby,” Steve says, voice finally gone a little shaky, “so perfect, feel so fuckin’ good, Tony, you’re so tight, openin’ up so perfect for me.” He pulls back nearly all the way, ignoring both Tony’s pathetic whine and his foot digging into Steve’s thigh in favor of just hovering there, head of his cock barely holding Tony open as he pours some more lube directly onto his cock, spreading it evenly before pushing back in again, just a little deeper than before. “About halfway there,” Steve says, and grins wickedly at Tony’s answering whine, “you’re so good, doin’ so perfect Tony. How you feelin’ baby? Feels good?”

“Good,” Tony groans out instantly, because god forbid Steve stop, “so good, fu-uck, oh!” Steve presses deeper, and then deeper, breaking Tony open with every roll of his hips in the most amazing way. Tony’s eyes finally squeeze closed and he can’t take it anymore, can’t take the sight of Steve, pale skin gorgeously flushed and glowing, golden hair falling into his face and barely a hint of blue left in his eyes as they drag over the length of Tony’s body. “Steve, Steve,” Tony whines, “god, you- it’s so much.”

“An’ you’re takin’ it so well,” Steve breathes out, shoving forward just a little harder and groaning when Tony gasps and jerks against him. “Wish you could see it, your pretty little hole all stretched out around me, squeezin’ me tight, takin’ me so perfect, you’re so gorgeous, Tony,” he says, just loud enough to be heard over Tony’s near constant moans.

Steve withdraws one more time to add more lube and then tosses the tube aside, thrusts back in and uses his newly freed hand to hook under Tony’s other knee, pushing it up to his chest as well. Tony keeps his eyes shut because the spreading, mind-melting heat inside him is threatening to push him over the edge all on its own and he can’t watch. Bad enough that Steve’s every breath comes out in a low grunt that goes straight to Tony’s cock.

“So close now, sweetheart,” Steve says, hitching Tony’s legs up a little higher, speeding up the rocking motion of his hips and pressing deeper, deeper. “You ready? You want it baby?”

“Yes, yes, please-“ Tony moans out and he’s given up on leverage, hands laying loose above his head and just waiting for anything Steve gives him, everything Steve gives him. Which is just, fuck, so much, and it forces a near scream out of him when Steve thrusts himself in that last little bit, still more than Tony expected, and Tony’s eyes snap open as he gasps out “o-oh, fuck. Steve.”

“There you are,” Steve coos, smiling even as his thin chest heaves with every breath, rocking his hips slightly and shifting his thick cock where it’s lodged deep inside Tony, forcing him to open up around it. “Can you feel me baby? Feel how deep I am, feel me up in your throat?”

Tony’s response is just a series of choked noises, toes curling and fingers tangling in the sheets, shudders racing up his spine constantly. He can’t breathe, can’t move a muscle for fear of splitting open at every seam, stuffed full and stretched wider than he’s ever been and it’s so fucking good, he can feel Steve’s cock twitch inside him and if Tony moves a muscle he is going to come and then he is going to break.

“Breathe, baby,” Steve says, rocking forward a little harder and Tony forces himself to draw in a great shaking breath, and then snaps like a rubber band. The air all rushes back out of him as a wailing moan and he writhes against the sheets, like he can’t decide if he wants to press closer or try to wiggle away and either way he’s caught in place by Steve’s giant cock spearing him open. “That’s right sweetheart,” Steve breathes out, thumbs stroking over the soft skin behind Tony’s knees, “so fuckin’ gorgeous Tony, so sweet for me.”

“Please,” Tony moans, rocking his hips up and then whimpering when Steve slides deeper, bright little burst of aching pleasure shooting up his spine, and he’s so close, so close to tumbling over that ledge. “Please, Steve, I can’t- I need, please-“

“Shh,” Steve shushes and when Tony pries his eyes open again it’s to the sight of Steve watching him through heavy lidded eyes, long lashes fanned across his cheeks and stealing what little breath Tony has left. “Just relax, sweetheart, I’m gonna take care of you,” He says, smirking a little wider when he notices Tony watching him back him. Then he pushes Tony’s knees up higher, nearly folds him half while Tony just groans weakly, and starts to withdraw. Slowly.

It’s like being turned inside out in the best possible way, all Tony is aware of is every single nerve ending that Steve’s cock drags over as he pulls out, leaves Tony achingly empty, until it’s just the very tip of his cock holding Tony open. Tony whines when he just pauses there for a second, unable to tear his gaze away from Steve’s gorgeous, smug little smirk. When Steve starts pressing back in, just as horribly slow, Tony moans the entire time because it burns, it’s like being broken open all over again and it’s amazing.

“Fuck,” Tony gasps as Steve’s hips settle against his ass again, blinking slow and a little dazed because holy shit he can’t feel his limbs. Or maybe that’s not right, maybe he just can’t feel anything other than the bright bursts and slow ache of pleasure spreading through his entire body. His next breath comes out right on the edge of a sob, choked and wet as Steve starts to withdraw again. “Oh, f-fuck-“

“Yeah, look at you,” Steve groans, his pace speeding up only ever so slightly as he pulls out and then pushes in, in, in. “Barely even know what to do with yourself. ‘S that more than you can stand, baby? Or d’you want me to fuck you for real?”

“Fuck me, fuck me,” Tony moans out instantly, instinctually, because oh holy shit that’s right there’s more and he has completely lost control over his mouth as he gasps out “god, Steve, please, please honey I need you-“

“Then breathe, Tony,” Steve growls and shoves Tony’s knees nearly to his chest when he tries to arch up, tries to force Steve to move faster. Tony sucks in an obedient breath, entire body trembling, and Steve rewards him by snapping his hips forward hard, forcing Tony open and punching a loud groan from his chest.

Tony can only nod, dragging in breath after whining breath as Steve rocks his hips a little faster, out and then in, out and then in. Tony is melting, another wave of heat spreading through him every time Steve’s cock slowly pushes back into him, spreading him wide and pressing so fucking deep.

“There you go, you feel that baby? How fuckin’ easy you take me?” Steve asks, stroking his hands up the back of Tony’s thighs as he picks up his rhythm enough to have Tony moaning helplessly on every steady thrust. “Loosenin’ up so good for me, you’re so fuckin’ perfect Tony, knew you would be,” he continues on an almost dreamy sigh, then digs his fingers into Tony’s inner thighs hard and says “‘m gonna fuck you hard now, baby. Gonna break you open, take you apart. You ready for that?”

Fuck, Tony can’t imagine more, feels like he’s already shattering apart into warm shards of pleasure with every roll of Steve’s hips, but he nods dumbly because if there is more than fuck yes he wants it. Steve’s next thrust lives up to his promise, slamming into him hard, all the way in one smooth slide that has Tony screaming, head snapping back while stars burst behind his eyelids and sparks fly across his skin. And then Steve doesn’t stop, slams into him again and again in a brutal rhythm that knocks every single thought right out of Tony’s head, using his full body weight to hold Tony curled down around himself as he fucks down into him. And still, Steve keeps fucking talking.

“Does that feel good, baby?” He demands, like Tony could possibly have the breath or the brainpower to answer that right now, like Tony’s constant stream of moans isn’t answer enough. “You want it harder? Want me to make you feel it for a week? Feel me every time you breathe?”

The words register dimly, every one of them just another fission of heat down Tony’s spine, settling heavy in his gut, winding him tighter and tighter until Tony doesn’t know how he hasn’t already snapped. Until he can feel his orgasm building in his eyes and everything is too much and not enough all at once, every inch of him filled with agonizing pleasure, right at the edge and unable to fall and his next breath comes out a sobbing, desperate moan and Steve falters a little before Tony’s needy whine urges him on again.

“‘S that a good thing? You good, baby?” Steve asks, finally sounding breathless, hips slamming against Tony’s ass in time with Tony’s wet groans and when Tony just nods weakly he huffs. Then he smirks, wicked enough that it forces a sob out of Tony all on it’s own, before leaning back enough that’s it’s just the head of his cock fucking in and out of him, not nearly enough. “Go on Tony,” he insists in a low voice, smirk widening and his eyes dark, “tell me how it feels, tell me what you’re feelin’ sweetheart.”

Tony just gapes at him for a minute, mouth already hanging open around non-stop moans, because Steve wants him to use words right now?! Tony is pretty sure he’s drooling, a little bit, his eyes wet and his cock leaking constantly against his own stomach and Steve wants him to use words?! It’s obvious Steve isn’t going to give in though, keeps his thrusts infuriatingly shallow until Tony gathers all the brain power he possibly can and finally manages to keen out “Steve-“

“Damn straight, you feel me,” Steve growls and slams back into him, grinding in deep before resuming his fast and hard rhythm. He finally shifts one of his hands from Tony’s thigh, instead circling the base of Tony’s dick with his clever fingers and oh, oh that’s too much, too much and perfect and Tony can’t believe he didn’t think of that himself, entire body clenching up tight and Steve feels so fucking huge inside him. “God- fuck that’s so good,” Steve groans, thrusts going uncoordinated as he fucks into Tony harder, fucks the air straight out of his lungs. “Now come for me Tony,” he demands, dragging his fingers up Tony’s cock in one smooth pull and grinding in deep.

Tony comes so hard he sees the big fucking bang, lights and colors and goddamn sounds bursting behind his eyelids as he writhes in Steve’s hold, forces Steve to shove him back down or risk being knocked away. And apparently the orgasm loosens his tongue, because with every electric wave of pleasure that rushes though him Tony moans and sobs out and string of “oh, o-oh fuck, Steve, Steve-“

And Steve just fucks him through it, drives himself into Tony’s clenching body until Tony is reduced to breathy gasps, his chest hitching and streaked in his own come. “God that’s pretty, such a fuckin’ sight, knew you’d be so gorgeous, fuck- Tony-“ And then Steve presses into him, deep, so deep, and comes with a drawn out moan, thick cock twitching and pulsing and sending an all new shock of pleasure through Tony’s overwhelmed system.

Tony isn’t sure how long they stay like that, frozen except for the way they’re panting for breath, but all too soon Steve is pulling away, pulling out entirely and petting at Tony’s thigh when he lets out a pitiful, sniffling whine. Steve tugs the pillow out from beneath him and Tony makes another sound he’s not proud of as he’s finally allowed to sprawl out flat again. He opens his mouth, probably to say something along the lines of ‘holy shit’ again, because that hasn’t been said enough, when Steve beats him to it.

“So perfect, you’re so damn perfect Tony,” he breathes out, leaning in over Tony again and using one hand to brush the sweat-slicked hair off of Tony’s forehead. He leans down enough to drop a sweet kiss to Tony’s slack lips before disappearing from view again and Tony feels the bed shift as Steve moves away, apparently still full of energy somehow.

Tony is left sprawled out and staring blankly at the ceiling, every single inch of him aching deliciously, feeling fucked open and used and still a little confused, honestly. “Holy shit,” he whispers to the ceiling, blinking slowly and he probably shouldn’t be so turned on still, shouldn’t be getting more turned on by the fact that he feels hollowed out, sloppy and loose and oh god his stomach is still a mess of arousal and what is happening?

It forces a groan out of him when Steve hops back onto the bed, shifting Tony’s poor abused body, but he’s immediatly appeased when Steve leans in to kiss him, slow and sweet. Steve has apparently fetched a washcloth, what with his having full feeling in his legs, because he uses it to start gently wiping at Tony’s chest between deep, lingering kisses. Tony is trying really hard to ignore his cock’s attempts to make a comeback as Steve’s attention trails down his stomach, tries to swallow down the needy groan that wants to rise in his throat.

Steve thoroughly ruins that when he drags the washcloth down the crease of Tony’s thigh, breath warm against Tony’s lips when he asks “You leakin’ me yet, baby?” Steve just smirks as Tony jerks and groans, cock twitching and yep, look at that, he’s half hard and Steve is some kind of wizard. “Bet you are,” Steve continues, as if he isn’t giving Tony a crisis over here, “fucked you open so wide, bet I could still slide back in so easy.”

“Steve, what the fuck-“ Tony groans, hips twitching as his cock gives another near-painful throb. Steve lets the washcloth brush over his cock as he pulls it away and Tony doesn’t even try to contain his pitiful whine that escapes him. “How are you even- are you trying to kill me?”

“Does that mean you��re not ready for round two?” Steve asks, innocent smile in place again as he tosses the washcloth away and trails his fingers down Tony’s chest but oh, Tony is not falling for that face again, he is not fooled.

“You are a danger, a true menace to society,” Tony tells him seriously, finally convinces his arms to move so he can cup Steve’s lying little face in his hands and pull in him for another kiss. There’s no denying the fact that Tony’s cock is twitching back to life against his thigh, knot in his stomach twisting up again every time Steve’s fingers brush over his skin and finally Tony drops his head back against the bed with a groan. “I mean I’m like half dead and I think I pulled something but yeah, do your worst you freaky little fuck.”

Steve’s smile immediately goes wicked again, and Tony points a finger at him, fully prepared to semi-seriously accuse him of being possessed, but Steve cuts him off by wedging both hands under Tony’s back and flipping him onto his side with one great heave and then manhandling Tony over onto his front. It’s less graceful than it could be, considering Tony is still mostly just a useless pile of limbs, but soon enough he’s sprawled out, another pillow propping up his chest and shoulders enough to let him breathe and Tony isn’t even sure where it came from but he’s not complaining.

“What the fuck,” Tony says again, because the question hasn’t been put out there quite enough yet, and Steve is laughing quietly as he shoves Tony’s legs together and straddles his upper thighs. Tony crosses his arms under his head, turns enough that he can look up at Steve over his shoulder as he says “no I’m serious, you- oh- oh fuck-“

“What was that sweetheart?” Steve asks and Tony can hear his evil little smirk, but Tony is too busy groaning wordlessly to call him on it as Steve’s fingers dig into his asscheeks again, spreading him open. “Oh, Tony,” he sighs, presses Tony’s cheeks together before spreading them wide again and Tony gasps as he feels come and lube start sliding down his crack, “so fuckin’ gorgeous, can’t wait to draw you like this, all fucked out and tired, wet an’ open an’ still aching for it.” He slides his hands inwards, until his thumbs just barely press against the edges of Tony’s sore hole, and then when Tony tries to arch up into it he presses a little harder and asks “wanna know what you look like baby?”

“God no,” Tony groans, clenching his teeth and whining when Steve’s continues to just barely tease him open, and then finally manages to add “I still can’t believe I’m not dead.” Steve’s soft laugh sends another bolt of heat down Tony’s spine, settles low in his gut and makes his half-hard cock twitch, pushes another pitiful moan out of Tony’s chest that only gets louder as both of Steve’s thumbs press into him with a glorious, burning pressure.

“You’re fine, Tony,” Steve shushes him, still laughing a little as he spreads his fingers, prying him open and adding “you’re perfect. Can’t even believe how perfect you are. An’ so damn pretty, fuck.” He just moves with it as Tony tries to arch up against him again, laughs when Tony whines at the feel of Steve’s cock shifting up along his crack. “What’s your hurry, baby? You feel empty without me?” Steve asks, smirking again as he presses just a little closer and the head of his cock nudges against Tony’s stretched rim.

Tony can only groan in frustration because he does, feels broken open and hollowed out and he’s burning and Steve is so close. “Steve,” he whines, tries to arch up again and shivers all over when the head barely presses into him, kicking the low simmer in Tony’s core into high fucking gear. Tony’s cock is quickly filing up again, trapped between his stomach and the sheets, every inch of him still tingly with oversensitivity, and it leaves him gasping out “god- fuck- Steve, please, I-“

“I know what you need, sweetheart,” Steve says, voice deceptively gentle considering he chooses that moment to start pressing his way into Tony’s body again. And fuck it hasn’t even been that long but it still burns as Steve sinks into him again, one smooth slide that forces all the air out of Tony’s lungs in a keening groan.

As soon as Steve’s hips press up against his ass he starts withdrawing again, and Tony doesn’t try to stop the sob that drags out of him. “Steve, oh my god-“ Tony has to pause and let out a strangled moan as Steve slides all the way free only to immediatly thrust back in, all the way, so fucking deep, and finally he manages to whine out “oh, fuck, honey- that, ah, t-that feels so good.”

“You feel good,” Steve groans back, hands still tight on Tony’s ass as he speeds up his thrusts, cock shoving in deep and all Tony can do is try to arch up into each one, let the force of them shift him against the mattress. “God, you’re so- so fuckin’ amazing Tony,” Steve continues and when Tony forces his eyes open, not even sure when they closed, it’s to the sight of Steve watching avidly as he fucks into Tony over and over, eyes dark and face flushed. That alone has Tony’s gut clenching hard, another weak sob escaping him even as Steve groans out “openin’ up so perfect, like you were made for me, made to take my cock an’ wrap around me so tight.”

“Steve,” Tony moans again, because that’s about the only word he knows anymore, just Steve Steve Steve. Every thrust drives Steve’s giant cock back into him and every time it feels impossibly huge, filling up everywhere inside him until Tony doesn’t know anything but Steve and the aching pleasure of his own cock dragging against the sheets. When Steve glances up, meets his eyes, Tony’s entire body tightens up and his breath hitches in his chest.

“Look at you, baby,” Steve breathes out, hips snapping forward a little harder, a littler faster, “wish you could see how fuckin’ pretty you look right now, how gorgeous you take it.” His fingers dig into Tony’s ass a little harder and then his gaze flicks up, to something just over Tony’s shoulder, and a wicked smile spreads across his face even as he pants for breath. “You wanna hand me that, sweetheart? From the nightstand?” He asks, jerking his chin up a little, and then slows his thrusts until Tony groans in frustration.

There’s a digital camera sitting on Steve’s nightstand. It’s an older model, probably barely has video recording, and a hot flush runs though Tony’s entire body because oh, that is an idea. Still, Tony had kind of promised himself no more leaked sex tapes after his early twenties, and yeah he trusts Steve, but he’s trusted the wrong people before. His hesitation must show on his face, despite the way his fingers are already twitching towards the nightstand, because Steve’s hands on him gentle slightly, thumbs stroking over Tony’s skin.

“You don’ have to,” he says quickly, thrusts still slow and steady and mind-melting, “but I promise I won’t get your face, an’ you can take the fuckin’ thing with you if you want. I just-“ he pauses again, drives himself into Tony a little harder, drags in a ragged breath and then says “just want you to see this, want you to see how perfect you are. How gorgeous you look all stretched around me.”

Tony’s face is burning, gut twisted up tight and every slow roll of Steve’s hips just drives him higher. Steve is clearly waiting for some kind of an answer, keeps his thrusts slow even as Tony tries desperately to arch up against him, chokes out a couple more wet pleading sounds. And the thing is Tony wants it, still a little bit can’t believe he can take it and yeah he kind of wants to see that for himself, wants it so bad he suddenly can’t think of any reason not to.

“Okay,” Tony says around another jagged moan, nodding dazedly as he reaches out a shaking hand. He has to actually wiggle himself free of Steve’s cock before he can reach the nightstand, whining pitifully, pushing himself up just a little until he can finally hook one finger through the loop of the camera. “There, happy?” Tony grumbles, collapsing down flat again, dropping the camera so he can bury his burning face in his arms. “You’re a kinky fuck, you know that,” Tony can’t help adding breathlessly, shaking with anticipation and overstimulation and a million other things as Steve shifts up against him again, “can’t believe you’ve been hiding this all this time. Under your nice boy face.”

“Maybe you just never asked,” Steve says reasonably, and Tony is dimly aware of the click of old camera buttons but it’s incredibly unimportant compared to Steve’s cock pressing against him, teasingly light against his hole. Tony presses his face harder into the sheets to try and smother his needy moan, arching his back as sharply as he can and god Tony can feel the way he’s trying to clench around the head of Steve’s cock, trying to pull him back inside. “There you are, baby, need it so bad, don’t ya?” Steve asks, voice low, “now open up for me sweetheart.”

“Fuck,” Tony gasps as Steve sinks into him again, wet and easy, still so overwhelming and aching and fantastic. Steve’s come is still leaking out of him with every thrust, sliding all the way down to Tony’s balls and fuck the feeling of it has Tony shaking, only gets worse when Steve pulls all the way out before pressing back into him. Steve continues like that until Tony can’t take it, until he’s moaning and whining and sobbing into his folded arms and he finally manages to choke out “please, please just- god, just fuck me, Steve-“

Steve laughs softly and then thrusts in hard, grinding in deep for a second before restarting his pace of quick, brutal snaps of his hips that force his cock in deep and it has Tony wailing, trying to push himself back into it even as he’s shoved back and forth against the mattress. Tony’s orgasm is building hot and fierce in his gut, spreading up his spine and through his entire body with every drag of his pinned cock against the sheets, every drag of Steve thick and insistent inside him.

Steve has gone suspiciously silent, even as he continues fucking Tony with deep shoves of his hips, only letting out the occasional gasp or breathy groan. When Tony dares to crane his head around to look over his shoulder again it’s to find that Steve’s eyes are fixed avidly on the screen of the camera, held just above his navel and pointed down at where he’s working himself in and out, in and out, in and out of Tony’s body.

He looks up, almost like he can sense Tony watching, and Steve’s grin is a little bit goofy and a whole lot unfairly sexy. “Want to see it baby?” He asks, voice low and rough and sending hot shivers all up and down Tony’s spine, “want to see how perfect you are, how perfect you open up for me?”

Tony can only manage a shaky nod, another whine escaping him, and then Steve is leaning down across his back. Steve plants one bony elbow in the mattress next to Tony’s shoulder and his thrusts go short and deep, forcing a guttural groan out of Tony’s chest as he presses deeper. There’s the soft click of Steve hitting a few buttons on the camera with his free hand, and then he rests his chin on Tony’s shoulder and holds it down so Tony can see the screen.

“F-fuck,” Tony can’t help gasping at the sight of his own hole, swollen and loose and leaking come, and he clenches up instuctially only to groan when it makes Steve feel impossibly bigger inside him. Tony’s breath rushes out of him entirely as he watches Steve’s cock start pressing into him, watches the way his own body spreads almost eagerly and a shudder wracks through Tony’s entire body because holy fuck seeing it with his own eyes really drives home just how huge Steve’s monster cock is, how wide Tony has to spread to let him in, the way Steve’s come leaks out of him as he presses in deeper.

“Yeah,” Steve groans, “fuckin’ gorgeous, aren’t ya? So perfect, feel so fuckin’ good when you clench up around me just- like- that-“ Steve punctuates the last couple words by slamming his hips into Tony’s ass, cock pressing in so deep that every thrust knocks a loud moan out of Tony’s chest.

“Steve, Steve-“ Tony gasps out and he’s not even sure if he’s trying to beg or just wants to say it, needs some kind of release from the inescapable pressure building inside him. With every deep thrust he clenches up a little harder around Steve’s thick cock, until Steve is mostly just grinding into him, pressing deep, deep, and Tony is seconds away from coming with just the friction of the sheets against his cock and Steve moving huge inside him, making a home for himself under Tony’s skin and breathing hot against Tony’s shoulder. “Fuck,” Tony moans, squeezing his eyes shut and he’s so close, every inch of him on fire, “god, Steve- ugh-“

Tony cuts off with a startled grunt as two of Steve’s fingers shove between his lips, deep enough that they barely tickle the back of his throat, calloused fingertips pressing down hard against his tongue and Tony's next moan comes out extra wet. “Open your eyes, Tony,” Steve says, low and rough and right against his skin, and Tony whines even as he pries his eyes open again.

The noise that bursts out of Tony might be embarrassing, if he could focus on anything but the fact that he’s burning alive because the camera is right there in front of his face, Steve��s fingers hooked in his mouth pinning him in place and all Tony can do is watch as on the video Steve’s massive cock sinks into his stretched hole. Over and over and over again, splitting him open wide in a slow, deep rhythm thats a complete opposite to the way Steve is currently fucking into him in short, brutal strokes. Tony’s every breath comes out wet and choked, knocked out of him with every rough shove of Steve’s hips, every press of Steve’s cock so goddamn deep inside him. All Tony can manage is a couple muffled groans and whines, drool sliding down his chin as Steve’s fingers press deeper into his mouth, stroking over his tongue before a third finger joins the rest, prying his mouth open wide as Tony moans and sobs.

Steve’s breath is hot on the curve of Tony’s neck as he says “look, baby, keep watching. Look how perfect you are, look how much you love it.” Tony’s entire body has been reduced to constant sparks of pleasure, every muscle pulled tight enough to snap, and he chokes as Steve’s fingers press deeper into his throat. “That’s right sweetheart, so damn pretty when you’re right at the edge, clench up so tight for me. Now let me feel you fall apart on my cock, let me have it,” Steve drags his lips over the curve of Tony’s shoulder, leaving a line of sharp bites in his wake, and then growls “now, Tony.”

If Tony had the breath he’d be screaming, instead all he can do is let out a high, breathless whine as he finally, finally hits the breaking point. It’s like he’s dying, wave after wave of overwhelming pleasure rushing through him, so sharp it almost hurts. It leaves him thrashing and writhing, working his tongue against Steve’s fingers as Steve just fucks him through it, driving him higher and higher until Tony finally comes with a hurt sound, deep in his chest, spilling against the sheets and his own stomach as his cock throbs over and over until he thinks it’ll never end.

Tony’s pretty sure he actually blacks out a little bit, just for a second there, drifts back to awareness slowly with his entire body tingly and only dimly aware of the wet, choked moans spilling out of his mouth as Steve continues fucking into him. Steve has finally let the camera fall away, both hands braced on Tony’s shoulders, throwing his entire weight into it as he slams into Tony again and again and again. “Ste-eve,” Tony whines out, voice slurred and still twitching as every deep press of Steve’s cock inside him sends another spark of pleasure-pain up his spine, his own cock aching as Steve presses him down into the soaked sheets.

“Fuck, Tony,” Steve groans and his breath hitches in his chest, fingers digging into Tony’s skin, hips jerking forward as he presses himself in as deep as he can get and then just grinds there while Tony moans and shakes, inner muscles fluttering and clenching around Steve’s cock. “So good baby, so prefect, so- oh, fuck-“ Steve’s words trail off into a long moan, cock throbbing as he comes.

Tony gasps again, clawing at the sheets because fuck he can feel that, feel every pulse as Steve fills him up again, slick and filthy and when he grinds against Tony the sound it makes is sloppy and obscene, has Tony whining and gritting his teeth as his cock tries to give another impossible twitch.

When Steve collapses down across his back Tony gives the requisite grumble of complaint, but Steve isn’t actually that heavy, and it’s actually kind of nice to have his steady weight spread across him, helps keep Tony grounded as he tries to catch his breath. It also takes an embarrassingly long time for Tony to realize that the ringing sound he keeps hearing is not in fact all in his head. It’s his phone, still in the pocket of his pants, laying abandoned near the headboard where Steve must have tossed them.

The ringing stops, only to immediately start up again, and Tony finally works up the energy to whine out “make it stop. Kill it with fire.” The words come out muffled, his face still smashed into the wet sheets, but Steve must hear him anyways because he lets out a soft huff of laughter.

“It’s your phone,” Steve points out, voice rough and lips moving against Tony’s skin as he speaks, sending another rush of shivers down Tony’s spine to settle warm in his gut and oh god, he might actually die like this.

He tries to ignore the ringing in favor of just soaking up the feeling of Steve warm against him, still buried inside him, but after the fourth time it starts ringing Tony finally lets out an annoyed groan and starts blindly reaching out in the direction of the sound. He managed to hook his fingers into the denim, and finally lifts his head again as he starts dragging the jeans closer. It takes a bit of fumbling to actually dig out his phone, fingers still stupid and sluggish, and he is one hundred percent planning on just turning the damn thing off before he sees the name on the video call request.

Steve must be watching over his shoulder, because he makes a stuttered noise of protest, but it’s too late because Tony is already hitting the ‘answer call’ button and saying “Rhodey. I just had a religious experience.”

Rhodey’s expression on the screen goes from surprised to scandalized to resigned so fast that Tony can’t help a soft laugh, and in the little corner screen he can see the way Steve drops his head to hide his suddenly red face in Tony’s shoulder. And damn, yeah, looking at himself Tony can admit that he looks wrecked, face flushed and hair a mess, and there’s really no way he looks anything other than fresh fucked.

”Hello Tony,” Rhodey says with a sigh, in the long suffering tone of a best friend who has already seen way, way to much to be surprised anymore, “I thought we had a long talk about how normal people don’t answer the phone in the middle of sex.”

“Shows what you know, we’re already done,” Tony says smugly, and tries really hard to ignore the way his stomach gives a little dip when Steve makes a soft, considering noise, like maybe they’re not. “You’re the one who kept calling, what was I supposed to do, not answer the call of my platypus?” Tony asks with a wide grin, forcibly dragging his mind back to the conversation and away from that fact that he might actually die, and what a way to go.

“Yes, for the record, that is exactly what I want you to do,” Rhodey says flatly, then his eyes shift over Tony’s shoulder and he raises one eyebrow, nodding a little as he says “Rogers.”

It’s only then that Tony belatedly remembers oh right, they’ve only met maybe twice, and Steve is still in that phase where he’s mildly terrified of Rhodey. It’s adorable. It also means that Steve is probably not prepared for full ‘Tony and Rhodey’s No Boundaries Experience,’ although in Tony’s defense, he knows for a fact that he’d warned Steve on several occasions. Not his fault if Steve didn’t believe the severity of the situation.

“Hey, uh- nice to see you again,” Steve finally says, red little face tipping up just enough to look at the phone again and that is not fair, how is he so adorable even with his half-hard cock still buried deep inside Tony? Looking all sweet and innocent, like he’s not a filthy, well-hung freak? But oh, Tony is not fooled anymore. Tony knows.

Rhodey gives Steve another nod, and he’s trying to hide the fact that he’s amused but Tony sees right through him too, then turns his attention back to Tony and says “I’m hanging up on you now. I don’t even remember what I needed but I know it wasn’t to get up close and personal with your sex life again. I thought we left that behind when we graduated.”

“It’s like you don’t even want to hear about my religious experience!” Tony protests with a laugh and then has to bite down a noise that tries to rise in his chest when it causes him to clench up and Steve’s cock gives a dangerous throb. Still, Tony isn’t going to let a little thing like that rob him of the opportunity to annoy two of his favorite people all in one go, so Tony says “I saw the face of god and it’s Steve Rogers.”

“Tony!” Steve protests, face scrunching up the way it does when he’s torn between being embarrassed and smugly flattered.

“Please keep your newfound religion to yourself,” Rhodey says, but he’s smirking and distinctly not hanging up. Because if there’s one thing Rhodey loves more than hanging up on Tony for totally valid reasons, it’s putting anyone new Tony starts dating through the ‘friend approval’ gauntlet.

“No you don’t understand, I have been ruined for all other dick. I am a ruined man,” Tony continues brightly while Steve makes more protesting noises into his shoulder and Rhodey sings loud and off-key to try and drown him out. Tony is nearly shouting by the time he finishes with “listen, no listen! Rhodey listen, that thing is a club, it nearly broke me! I haven’t tried to stand yet but I legitimately don’t know if I can!”

“Stop,” Steve groans, pressing his face down into Tony’s shoulder again.

“This from the man who claimed he was going to hang my ass on the mantle!” Tony says, because he has not forgotten about that, thank you very much. He’s going to be hearing that promise in his dreams and he’s still torn between hoping to god that Steve doesn’t actually do that, and really kind of hoping that he does.

Steve groans louder while Rhodey sputters, and Tony laughs right up until he remembers why that’s a bad idea, can’t quite contain the whine that works its way up his throat. “I’m still gonna,” Steve mutters, just loud enough for Tony to hear him, nipping slightly at Tony’s skin, “gonna do you up in watercolor.”

“Yeah, I’ll call back later,” Rhodey says and apparently he heard that too, whoops, “Tony, good luck with... all of that. Rogers, try to keep him out of trouble.”

“Hmm, no,” Steve says, all warm and fond as he noses at the base of Tony’s skull, and Rhodey raises an eyebrow that means he’s secretly impressed. Score one of Tony’s new boyfriend.

“I still love you the most sour patch!” Tony says happily, lifting his other hand enough to wiggle his fingers in an lethargic wave.

“Where does that put me?” Steve asks, and unless Tony is very much mistaken there’s a hint of a growl creeping into his voice. Like he’s trying not to get all possessive right now, and isn’t Tony just learning all sorts of fun new things today.

“Eh, you’re somewhere in the top twenty,” Tony says flippantly, and then lets out a squawk that’s half delight and have actual surprise as Steve bites the back of his neck hard. “Ah, help, I’m under attack!”

“You deserve it,” Rhodey says flatly, still not hanging up, and Steve lets out soft huff of laughter against Tony’s neck before pulling away.

“If you don’t want to be attacked, then stop being a brat,” Steve says matter of factly and drops a light kiss to the skin he’d just had his teeth in.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Tony whines obnoxiously, wide grin on his face, kicking his feet up so his heels knock against Steve’s back, “you’re not my daddy.” Tony is kind of aiming for Steve to bite him again, and then maybe Rhodey will actually hang up on them, and he and Steve can do some more making out. Maybe even figure out if they can defy the laws of nature and logic and go for a third round.

That is, sort of, what Tony gets, Steve’s teeth sinking into his neck again, harder. He also gets Steve’s cock giving a hard twitch inside him, Steve’s hips snapping forward hard and forcing a stuttering gasp out of Tony’s chest. He also gets Steve’s voice, low and fierce against the back of his neck as he growls out “you wanna fuckin’ bet.”

“Hnng,” Tony says intelligibly, because oh hello then. He barely has the brain power to thumb at the ‘end call’ button and toss his phone as far away as possible, he does have some concept of bounderies after all, and he’s only dimly aware of the dull thud of it hitting the ground. He’s far too busy dropping his head to the sheets again and groaning out “god, fuck- yes, try and prove it to me, daddy.”

Apparently Tony had not actually hung up before throwing his phone, because he barely hears Rhodey’s tiny voice shout ‘oh god my ears’ before the line actually goes dead. Tony has way better things to think about, though, like Steve’s lips moving across his neck, hips rolling against him, quickly filling cock spreading Tony wide again.

“Holy fuck,” Tony gasps, clawing at the sheets with fingers that are still shaking, “god- I take it back you’re definitely in the top five.”

“Wow, that’s a big jump, and here I’ve barely gotten started,” Steve says with a soft laugh, and then bites him again.

#my fic #stony #stevetony #superhusbands #i hear you liek filth #have some filth

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justasparkwritings · 4 years

Text

Codename Cupid: Chapter 23

Previous: Cricket & OT7, Return to Sender

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x OFC

Genre: Secret AgentAU, Government AgentAU, Angst, Some Fluff

Rating: PG15

Word Count: 4.7K

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Consensual Sex

Summary: Black Panther & Codename Cupid meet, Golden Maknae & Black Panther attempt to find a solution

What happens when you're confronted with an undeniable lie you've been telling for nearly a year?

(like ... it’s hella long and I only love like... part of it)

Codename Black Panther Meets Codename Cupid

Present Day

It’s awkward, sitting in your office knowing a team of high level, highly intelligent men sit no more than a block away, surveying your every move. Taehyung and Jimin are in their truck, the bugs they’d planted months ago still in use, their sight line into my office unobstructed. So what do you do when you’re under surveillance? No more rapping Childish Gambino at the top of my lungs, no more dancing to ABBA when I’m tired of sitting… No more pretending to work and billing hours when I’m reading conspiracy theory blogs. No more making out with Jungkook when he stops by or whispering filth into his ear when our temperatures are escalating and the need for each other surpasses the need for air.

I have to remind myself what the most important aspect of being under surveillance is: Act like you aren’t.

Cupid enters my office in what I can only describe as a knockout outfit, head to toe Chanel, complete with a Birkin and what I can only assume are Hermes sunglasses. She looks stunning, more so than usual.

“Euna, so good to see you,” I say, gesturing for her to sit. She glances at the chair and shakes her head.

“For how much I pay you, you should be able to afford nicer furniture,” She hums.

“Can I get you a water?” I ask, the anger attempting to pull my smile from my lips.

“Please, Pellegrino?”

“Yes, lemon and regular,” I inform her.

“Lemon please,” She says. Cupid takes her sunglasses off and waits patiently for me to return.

“We have a few updates to discuss,” I tell her. “I have done a little more research on the –

“I came here to tell you that I will no longer be needing your service,” Cupid interrupts.

“I’m sorry, have I done something?” I ask, surprise willingly seeping through my features. “I know we had a tense conversation the last time you stopped by, but I didn’t think you wanted me to stop my work.”

“I have done some digging on my own and have come to the conclusion that it’s incredibly unprofessional of you to engage with Jeon Jungkook in a manner that is far more than casual lovers. He is not who he says he is, and I will not have you investigating your own boyfriend.”

“Euna, how do you know?”

“I have my sources,”

“I thought I was your source,” I counter.

“You are,”

“Then, who else are you working with?” I ask again.

“That is not for you to know,”

“Okay, but you are clearly mad at me, or frustrated with me, specifically regarding my love life, which is not up for discussion. I want to fix whatever is causing this, but I can’t do that if you don’t tell me.” My voice reaches the gravel pit my Speech Therapist told me is unhealthy, ravaging my vocal cords. I can’t tell what her end game is, but I know mine.

“I do not feel comfortable with him being near my family and being with you means he is. I won’t associate with someone so…,” Cupid scolds me, unable to finish her thought. “Further, I believe you have gone above and beyond what I initially requested, and I am satisfied with the work you have done.”

“Why is my relationship with Jungkook so-

“You have love in your eyes,” She says. I gnaw at the dead skin of my bottom lip. “You are no longer leading this investigation with a clear head, and I need someone whose mind isn’t filled with hope to get to the bottom of this. However he knows them, Jeon Jungkook is dangerous.”

“If you tell me, I can ensure he isn’t. We’ve been together for a while, Euna, he isn’t, he isn’t whatever you think he is,” I could easily be lying, in this moment, I have no idea who Jungkook is.

“Be careful, Y/N, you do not know what they’re capable of.”

“Euna,” I start again. How does she know he knows them? What intel does she have that I so clearly do not? “What are they capable of?”

“You don’t want to find out. Here is your last check, bonus included for your exceptional work. I do have one request.” Cupid stands, slipping her shades back over chocolate eyes.

“Okay?” I ask, standing to mirror her.

“Burn it all,”

“Burn it?”

“Whatever documentation you have from my time working with you, it would be in your best interest to burn it,” Euna chooses her words carefully, a trait of being a CEO. I swallow thickly, nodding my head.

“Okay, and Euna?” I ask.

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry this wasn’t everything you wanted it to be, and that I couldn’t find Yoongi,” I concede.

“Oh, don’t apologize. I would be a terrible businesswoman if this was the end of my plans.” Replacing her frown with a gentle smile, she walks towards the door. “When you see Min Yoongi, tell him I’ll be waiting.”

“What makes you think I’ll be seeing Min Yoongi?”

“Oh Y/N, I have a little faith.”

I watch her leave and decide that banging my head against a wall regarding what Cupid knows and I don’t is worthless. I guarantee Namjoon has another file waiting for me with all the answers to the questions he’s assuming I’m going to ask. He isn’t wrong, I do have a million questions, ones for Jungkook, ones for Namjoon, about nine million for Yoongi, and a few for Jimin. Yoongi was so smug, arrogant, rude, a complete ass hole. I hate him. But I also deeply respect his game. I also completely understand why Jun-Seo fell for Jimin, he is by far the most gorgeous man I have ever seen up close, next to Taehyung. And Jungkook. In person? Holy fuck, Park Jimin can fucking get it.

Speaking of the man in question, who is now a suspect to Euna, is waiting patiently for me when I come home. Jungkook’s not stalking in the darkness, slinking through the night to find me, catching me off guard once I close the front door. He’s silent in his approach, waiting patiently for me. But tonight, either in an effort to smooth things over or out of the pure goodness of his heart, he’s home. He’s got takeout waiting on the table, glasses of water and booze sitting in the appropriate places, necessary silverware set in place. This isn’t fucking Thanksgiving, it’s a goddamned Thursday night. He himself is waiting patiently on the couch, lying down, eyes closed and soft snores coming out of his mouth. He looks cozy in ripped jeans and a sweatshirt, his hair growing long again, bleached, a look I was thoroughly against until I laid eyes on him.

Walking. Sex.

That’s the only way I can describe him.

“Go home,” I purposefully slam the door, jolting him from his slumber.

“I am home,” He responds.

“I can’t do this with you,”

“We need to talk,” he sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes.

“I don’t want to talk right now, JK, I want to go to sleep,”

“JK?” His eyebrows raise to say hello to his hairline.

“Yes, I don’t want to talk, go home.”

“Cricket, you haven’t eaten dinner yet,” He reminds me.

I can feel the tears prickling again, the ones I’d shed in front of OT7, the ones I’d born in the car, the ones I’d been bottling up for the last thirty-six hours, trying to not be so obviously heartbroken as I stared Lee Euna down. I’m too sad to fight him, so I don’t, letting him stand and guide me to the table where the Thai awaits. Dropping my bag down, I walk through to my bedroom, into the bathroom and shut the door.

“I’m showering first,” I call, ignoring the protest in his eyes as I walked away.

It’s a little too spot on to blast Adele, but I don’t fucking care. I turn it as loudly as my neighbors will tolerate and sing my sorrows. Tears mixing with cleanser, the poetry of their juxtaposition not lost as Adele fades into Ben Platt, and I’m sobbing as I release the words, noticing the magnitude of the change of phrase:

Now my heart is in your hands, please don't give it up / This is not a temporary love / This is not a temporary love / No, this is not a temporary love / Now your heart is in my hands, please don't give it up

I know Jungkook will be waiting for me to finish showering, and I know he’ll be ready to listen. He’ll beat himself up over whatever I say, he’ll listen when my voice raises, when it cracks, when it shakes. He always does. I guess that’s the thing about Jungkook, no matter how inexperienced he feels about loving someone, taking care of them, supporting them, he always does it and does it well. He shows up, even when he feels like he can’t. It’s been over a year, never once have I doubted his dedication, his steadfast love, not when he walked into the meeting with OT7, or when he tried to follow me after, or in the voicemails and texts he’s left since. I’ve never doubted Jungkook.

I shuffle from the warmth of my bathroom towards the kitchen table, where Jungkook is sitting.

“I reheated your plate,” Jungkook says. He’s sitting quietly, eyes full and downcast.

“Thanks,”

“Do you want to eat then talk, or talk first?” He offers the two options, knowing which I’ll pick.

“Eat,” I sit across from him, noting how he placed my food as far from him as possible, a notable decision that not only highlights how deeply he knows me, but that he still fucking cares. “You ate already?”

“I, yeah, I couldn’t wait,” He’s shy, a blush on his cheeks.

“Why? You always wait,”

“I’ve been on a small mission for the last twenty-four hours, no food, and I’ve been so anxious about us that I just… Seeing you just made all that stress disappear, so I ate,” Jungkook tells me. He sniffles, his tears starting to fall.

“A small mission?”

“Mm, to find out what happened to Bow and Arrow in 2012 and 2014 respectively,” He answers.

“Did you find out?”

“Yeah, but, well, you haven’t been onboarded. But one of our rules is that you don’t discuss work outside of headquarters,”

“Right, sure, makes sense,” I nod. I glance at him again, nose red, tears still falling. “I can’t eat if you’re crying.”

“I’ll sit on the couch,” He stands and shuffles towards the grey clothed piece I scrimped and saved for. It’s beyond worn out, pills of fabric piled on the edges of cushions, stains from mishaps and craft projects I should’ve done at the table. It’s housed many naps and a few guests. Jungkook looks nestled amongst the pillows.

I eat my food quietly, trying to figure out what it is exactly that I want to tell him. I’m not entirely sure I know what will come out of my mouth when I have to stare into his Bambi eyes. But I think I know what will come out of his, and I don’t want to hear it.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook starts. The dishes are cleared, and he’s waiting patiently for me on the couch. I don’t sit down, just stare at the spot above his head.

“How long have you known?” It’s better to just rip the bandage off, right?

“Four months,” Jungkook answers.

“How long have you known Jimin?”

“Eight years. How long have you known about my connection to Jimin and Taehyung?”

“A year,” I whisper. My sin seems far worse than his.

“A year?” Jungkook’s astonished. “You’re mad at me for a few months that were direct orders when you’ve been what, suspicious for a year?”

“You lied to me, fundamentally lied about who you are, I asked you for one fucking thing in this relationship, and you broke it.” I yell.

“Technically, you asked me two things, and I have followed through on both of those.” Why is his voice measured? Why doesn’t he yell when I yell?

“You lied!” My voice rises another octave, “What was your goal, to perpetuate the lie for as long as possible?”

“I had a job-

“I had a job!” I counter.

“My job requires me to do certain things without asking,” Jungkook’s tears continue to fall. “I asked if I could tell you, and I told you what I could.”

“You spied on me, gave all my evidence and –

“I didn’t spy on you,” His teeth are gritted, bunny smile lost to the nasty snare he’s tightened across his lips.

“Your friends spied on me,” I correct myself.

“You spied on my friends!” Jungkook countered.

“Your friends? The men that until two days ago I didn’t know were part of a giant governmental body that’s going to take down the largest conglomerate in the world? Who even are they? Who the fuck do they work for? What the fuck do they even do? I didn’t know you could be a secret organization without like, the federal government or Interpol knowing who you are but to my surprise, you can!”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, it’s aggressive and sharp, seeing his entire brain as they roll. “I had to lie. You, you knew and didn’t say anything. Why not say something?”

I sigh, I can tell him why I didn’t say anything, but I can’t tell him why I didn’t say anything. You know?

“I had no real proof that you really knew them,” I begin, “all I had was a hunch, a reaction they had that made it seem like they knew you. I put a few pieces together, but I didn’t have any real evidence that would hold up in court or against your withering stare. And, what if you were dangerous? OT7 is dangerous, you all could’ve hurt me. Why couldn’t me hiding it be about my safety?”

“You’re grasping at straws. If you had thought I wasn’t safe to be with, you wouldn’t be here a year later.”

“Tell me this, Jungkook, why, in front of all of your best friends, did you fucking let Namjoon tear me to pieces? Why, Jungkook, did you not say anything when you were left off my list of romantic partners? Do they not know about us? Do they not know you, we, love each other? Is this not what I thought it was?” Ah, and there the tears are.

“I wanted to be off the list,” He whispers.

“Why Jungkook? From where I’m standing, it fucking feels like you’re trying your hardest to erase me, like, like this almost year and a half that we’ve been together means nothing because I’m just a god damn mark. Is that what I am? Have I been reduced to that?”

“No!” He stands and shakes his head repeatedly.

“Then who am I to you? Am I your girlfriend? Am I your best friend? Or am I a piece in a larger puzzle that you are trying to solve?” I demand, pausing minutely to gasp for air. “I know what you are to me, I know how I feel about you. All my feelings have done in the last year is grow. I love you more than I did last week, I care about you more deeply than I did when you told me about how you were raised, a slight lie, but still honest. I see us, our life together more clearly than I ever have, but two days ago I.” I let the tears fall, pulling my mascara, never waterproof, and eyeshadow down with them. “I looked like the fool. I was the little girl attempting to play dress up with the fucking Tony Award winning cast of Catch Me if You Can. So, if I’m not the butt of the joke to you, who the fuck am I Jungkook?”

He wipes his eyes on his sleeves, which have covered his hands and are balled beneath his fingers. I’ve never seen him this upset. I know I’m not prepared for what is going to come out of his mouth.

“Namjoon tells people that we’re the one who knocks, but we aren’t. We’re the ones who send in the team to knock, we call all the shots, gather all the data, work the case until it is made out of marble. There are no cracks unless we have intentionally left them. We work as a unit, I don’t breathe without Hoseok knowing. I don’t brush my hair without Jimin catching it. We exist because of each other.” He sighs, “I took myself off the list on purpose. Your existence in my life is a threat. People know who I am, and if they know you…”

He shakes his head, a flash of what I experienced a few weeks ago, the idea of not coming home to this, to us… It’s in his eyes and it’s breaking my heart.

“I know we can keep you safe. I have full faith that our team will always protect you, but if I’m on that list, if there’s a trail of me to you, or vice versa. We’re at risk. I cannot, and I will not, lose you. I will not let my work put your life at risk, I will not sacrifice myself if it means I won’t come home to you. At the end of the day, isn’t that our promise to each other? I love you, and I am so sorry I lied to you, but my hands were tied. I can’t step out of line without risking everything OT7 is and does. I won’t do it.”

“I’m not asking you to be a coward,” I whisper.

“What?” Jungkook asks, for the first time in a few days, his eyes are softening, confusion replacing hurt.

"In Charmed, Phoebe asks Cole to back down, and he responds by saying he would do anything for her, except be a coward. He begs, please don’t ask me to be. I’m not asking you to be a coward, Jungkook.”

“I know you’re not. I asked Namjoon if I could tell you, about my job,”

“I remember,”

“I didn’t give specifics about who you are. I didn’t tell OT7 because I didn’t want you to be used in this case, I didn’t want this to be happening. But I walked into the offices and there you were, your photo, your stats, your codename,” A shiver runs over my spine at the mention of a codename, something so intentional, deliberate, precise. They’d taken the time to include me. “I didn’t know that Jimin and Taehyung had been following you for months or had interacted with you. They asked me point blank and I couldn’t lie. I wouldn’t lie about you, you’re too important. Namjoon gave me orders, and I’m obligated to follow them.”

“You lied to me,” I repeat.

“You lied to me, too.”

I stare at him, I don’t know how to fix this.

“We don’t have to forgive each other, or understand one another or work through it, now or ever. But I think that would be a disservice, a betrayal, of our relationship. You did ask me who you are to me, and the best way to explain it is this,” He grabs a paper off the coffee table and hands it to me, “Namjoon had me write it down.”

Cautiously I take the paper from him, typed and unedited, it’s longer than I expected. “Is this a twisted love letter?”

“You could say that,” Jungkook’s soft smile returns.

“Read it to me,” I hand it back.

Sniffling, “I’ll keep crying,”

“Please?” I ask again, sitting on the couch. He nods gently and sits next to me.

“Can I hold your hand?” He asks. The flames have been handled, dulled to hot embers as we sit, thigh touching thigh, his tattooed covered hand engulfing mine.

“Y/N and I began dating after meeting in a bar. I was struck by how stunning she was, how much I wanted to understand the flush of her cheeks, the curve of her jaw, the cadence of her laugh. We flirted, and I bought her drink. That first night in her apartment, where I now spend almost all of my time, I was overwhelmed by how much it felt like home… which is insane and I’ve never told her, but that night, I could just see us there, our future, all enfolding in front of me... Her apartment doesn’t turn you away or disinvite you once you’ve arrived, it’s far too warm and cozy, just like her. It’s my favorite place in the world, she’s my favorite place.

We spent the night laughing, kissing, getting to know each other. It was something in her eyes, in the way she absentmindedly traced my tattoos, how she fell asleep so easily in my arms. The next morning, we got breakfast, and I asked her out for a date on Monday. Dinner and a movie, classic. She let me hold her hand, and skillfully argued why she should pay for dinner. I compromised, she bought the movie tickets and treats. I barely paid attention to the movie, I just wanted to watch her laugh. Since that night, she’s all I ever think about.

She said she wanted to know what she was going to drown in before she dove in, and I knew in that moment that I loved her. I’ve never heard such poetry spoken, let alone about me, to me, before… She just, she was vulnerable without hesitation. I didn’t understand how she could be so delicate with me, so exposed, so willing to let me in. Her vulnerability welcomed mine, embraced it, and I’ve been loving her ever since.

I’ve never loved someone quite like her. She is brash, she makes decisions and sticks with them regardless of how difficult they make her life. She works side projects for neighbors, unpaid, to ease their lives. The man she rents her office from has a few kids, and in the summers, she takes a day a week to watch them. She hates cooking and brushes her teeth for over the recommended time because she’s terrified they’ll rot. She buys packs of the same popsicles and never leaves without a full water bottle. She hates sports, would rather sit in silence and stare at a wall than watch a football game, but she’ll check up on the highlights if it matters to me. She listens to the same music on a loop and adds in songs I love to her playlists because she wants to feel close to me, to understand me, to see me.

I could continue listing all the things about her, that I love, or all the things I love about our relationship… how we compromise, how we talk through our squabbles, how we respect each other, how we can communicate without speaking but know each other’s voice is our favorite sound. I love that she’s perceptive and asks for alone time when she needs to recharge and can sense from the tone in my voice when I need the same. I love how she sees me, listens to me, brings out the parts of me only OT7 knows. Like I said, I could keep writing… but it’s easier to put it this way:

Y/N is the love of my life, and I will do anything to protect her, to love her, to come home to her every day and every night that she’ll have me.

I will not break my promise to her. Lock and key.”

Jungkook sets the paper down and doesn’t look at me. I’m openly balling next to him, sobs ripping through me in quick succession.

No one has ever loved me like this.

I’ve only dreamed of love like this, I mean, no one has this, right? He’s offering it to me, no strings attached, no secrets, love for the sake of love. Love without penance or an additional cost to it. Here he is, all ink and doe eyes, holding me, the woman who lied to him, deceived him, was suspicious of him for months, hoping he still holds that love for me.

“You’re just, you’re the love of my life,” I wail, hands still covering my face as snot gloms onto my palms.

“Cricket,” Jungkook wraps his arms around me as his tears fall onto my body. “I love you.”

“I’m sorry I lied, I’m sorry I kept it from you. I just, I didn’t know and I,”

“Shh, Cricket, it’s okay,”

“Bunny,” I say, “I’m sorry. I forgive you. You don’t have to forgive me.”

“I forgive you,” He tells me.

“You do?”

“Yes. I’ve watched every member of OT7 lose their relationships, be beaten up over a fake relationship with a mark, giving themselves to someone to have it crumble under direct orders. Jimin is still trying to unravel the Arrow if it all. I didn’t, I didn’t want work to ruin us.”

“You wouldn’t let it,” I assure him.

“I wouldn’t, but there’s always the threat,”

“Are you secretly more cunning than I give you credit for?”

“Absolutely,” He smirks.

“I missed you,” I whisper. Can he hear my heartache? We’ve never gone 36 hours apart… not since our first month or two dating. It’s horrible, I hate it.

“It hasn’t been two days,” His chuckle is light, a sniffle accompanying the sound.

“I know, I missed you though,” I nuzzle deeper into his side, my nose brushing his neck.

“I missed you too,”

“I don’t want to ever fight like that again,” I tell him.

“I can’t guarantee that we won’t,” He reaches his free arm around his torso, knitting his hands together, solidifying my body to him.

“Can you promise me something?” I ask.

“Yes,”

“I promise not to quote Runaway Bride in its entirety,” I start. “But I will still quote it,” I sit up, eyes swollen and red, finding focus on his marble cut features. “Promise me that when things get tough, when one or the both of us wants out, we’ll remember that we made it through this, and we can make it through anything.”

“Do you know in your heart that I’m the one for you?” He asks.

I hate that he leans into my vulnerability, that I’m unable to hide myself from him. I’ve never been able to, not the first night, and not now.

“I will regret it, every day of my life, if I don’t make you mine,” I recite.

“Promise me something,” Jungkook starts.

“The moon and the stars,” I tell him.

“That you won’t lie to me,” He says.

“I promise,” I stick my pinky out.

“You’ll come home to me, always,” He loops his with mine.

“I promise,” I kiss my right hand, he mimics the gesture. “Do you think, maybe we should –

“Move in?” He finishes. His gaze holds mine, all hope, no expectations.

“Yeah,” I nod.

“Yes, here?” It’s hard to imagine he was just crying, the excitement sweeping over his entire body as he stands up and shakes his fists.

“Is your lease up?” I laugh, he’s beyond cute.

“Fuck the lease,” He laughs coming back to the couch. His hands cup my cheeks, fingers gently pressing on my neck, thumb softly caressing my cheeks.

“Bunny?” I whisper, eyes flicking to his lips.

“Cricket,” He answers.

“Lock and key,”

“You and me,”

“You and me,” He leans forward, lips finally meeting. The anticipation of having him in my arms, the ache of his absence over the last day and a half, the unsteady calm of opening your heart to someone… it’s all there in how his lips move against mine, how his tongue gently passes my lips, how his hands move down my body. The opposite of hope is fear, the opposite of pain is joy, as we move together, bodies joining, sweat mixing and names said in pure ecstasy, Jungkook and I solidify what we’ve always known about each other and our relationship.

Lock and key, him and me.

Next: OT8

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thefanficmonster · 4 years

Text

Listener

John (The Dark Pictures Anthology: Little Hope) x Reader (Male)

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR THE GAME LITTLE HOPE

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: He wishes to be fine, he wants to be ok. He only wants to get over that night, bury it in the past and push forward. But you can’t bury what you can’t see or touch - the scars on your psyche, the trauma, the nightmares. He’s not able to battle it...not on his own at least.

Requested by @dark-pictures-until-dawn Hello dear! Sorry to be posting your request so late. I really hope you have stayed patient enough to still want to read the fic because I’m really looking forward to hearing your feedback, especially since it’s my first time writing a male reader. Please enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

I can’t go home. I feel unsafe and lonely there. I feel how shallow is the meaningfulness of my existence and am constantly reminded of how quickly and gruesomely it was almost taken from me back in that ghost town. How I was prepared to do anything to shield my life as well as the lives of those I was responsible of from the horrors Little Hope provided for us. Speaking of my companions at the time, I think they’re doing far better than I am. Angela is, well, Angela - unbothered by the real problem, rather focusing on herself, mostly appearance-wise. Taylor and Daniel are each other’s support and have finally made their relationship public and I’m really happy for them. They deserve nothing but the best and I hope they get through this soon. Andrew left for home for a week or two to be with his family until the concussion and the trauma wore off at least a small bit. I was really worried for him and still am, but I’m at ease knowing he’s surrounded by people who’ll take care of him.

I, however, am left to my own devices. Devices I’m not sure I have. I can hear the weak side of me whispering to me whenever I get home, telling me it’s ok to break the streak at a time like this, even encouraging me to do so. Telling me it’ll be alright, that I’ll be able to pick myself back up, but for now, I can turn to my old friend for comfort. I can allow the liquor to pick me up like it did then. But then, thank the heavens, my rational side kicks in right on time - one second before it can be too late. It makes me ask myself if alcohol ever did anything for me except dig me a grave for my own dignity. Did it ever pick me up, or was it always the illusion behind which was the defeat and demise it truly gave me?

This rational side has helped me put down the bottle just as I was about to unscrew its cap, and I’ll forever be in its debt. Lord knows I’d be back in the same awful spot I was in before I started by journey of getting clean. I can’t go through the hellish first months of recovery another time. But the escape is a little too hard to resist sometimes.

Tonight it’s especially bad. This afternoon I had a meetup with the principle of the college during which I had to tell him all that happened that night, all the while enduring his ‘you’ve gone mad’ stare mixed with pity. He doesn’t believe any of us, how could he? I wouldn’t believe it either if I were in his shoes. Still, I’m the one who he bothers the most about it, given the others are students and I’m basically an employee of his and I am not allowed to show any sort of disrespect, no matter how much I’d like to put him in his place, if I want to keep my job. Having to reach to the dark side of my mind for the memories of that night took a toll on me like it hasn’t been able to in the past three days. I sometimes experience rather decent days during which my mind is too occupied to crack under the weight of the trauma. But then come the nights when I avoid sleeping just to unintentionally sink in deep slumber which is interrupted by a nightmare that sends me in a state of absolute terror.

Those are the instances in which I need metal chains to tie my wrists and feet so I don’t go back to old habits.

Why I still have alcohol in my house is beyond me. It’s like I’m taunting myself to fail what I’ve worked so hard for. Like dangling a piece of meat in front of a lion. The problem is - I’m both the person dangling the meat and the lion. I end up hurting myself by seeking comfort. It’d be a straight up lie if I tell myself I’m strong enough to resist temptation. The only reason why I do so is to avoid those first few months of the new attempted recovery. If I even attempt it, that is.

Because of the deteriorated state my mind is in right now and my weakened defenses, I have made the only move I can think of - sleeping in the school tonight. I’m lucky to have a couch in my office which I share with another professor, so sleeping here will at least be comfortable. The weather has been holding up well, so I won’t even need to bring out the heater. Just as long as no one...

“John? You’re still here?“

…sees me.

The familiar voice scares me half to death, bringing me out of my spiraling thoughts. I’ve become really jumpy and easily terrified which I consider to be reasonable. Other people are rather cautious around me and when approaching me, which I appreciate.

The person standing in the doorway with one hand on the handle and a startled expression on his face is my colleague Y/N. He’s the professor I’m sharing this office with. Him and I started working at this college at the same time and we quickly bonded over our first-day-on-the-job anxiety. He is pretty swell guy, about my age and height. He is the laid back professor, you don’t see many of his kind, especially since he is an ECON professor. Some of my students are in his class too, and they have nothing but kind words to say about him and his teaching. While the other professors, myself included, sport suits to work, he shows up in a polo shirt and jeans. He hasn’t missed a single day of work and his class flaunts the highest score in the whole college. That should tell you enough about how professional and well-put-together of a person Y/N is.

“Um, yeah...I just have some things to finish up.“ I wave my hand dismissively, hoping he’d leave it at that. But we’ve been colleagues and friends too long for him to let that slide so easily. He knows me well, people are an open book to him in general. He has told me he wanted to pursue psychology but his parents talked him out of it which explains his ability to tap into a person’s psyche like a literal mind reader. God knows I need a psychologist right now.

Y/N steps inside, closing the door behind him. “I can wait for you. We could get some dinner if you want.“ He suggests casually, shrugging his shoulders a tiny bit.

My eyes go wide, “No!” I answer a little too quickly and too loudly, causing him to frown in confusion, “I mean...don’t wait for me. There’s no need. It’s already late. We could get dinner another time.”

Y/N narrows his eyes slightly as if attempting to read a sign in the distance. I know he’s reading me. I bet he doesn’t even have to try so hard. I’m an open book that has suffered too much damage recently. And I’m not only talking the events back in that God forsaken town.

I try avoiding his gaze but when he says my name I can look nowhere but his eyes, “John, I know you’re still rattled and traumatized. Who wouldn’t be? Just know that you can talk to me anytime, about anything.“ His hand rests on my shoulder, “I’m one of those people who believes you. I believe you 100%” He chuckles, shaking his head, “I’ve researched that stuff probably more than I should’ve when I was a teenager. And it still intrigues me. Though I’m really sorry you had to go through such horrible events. You know you can take a paid leave for a month or two, right? No one will hold it against you. I’d be more than happy to cover for you if you’d like.”

I find myself smiling at Y/N’s words, “I really appreciate that, Y/N, but I’m afraid that if I don’t come to work I’ll end up losing my mind. Hell...“ I motion around the office, “I don’t even wanna leave. ‘Home’ doesn’t seem so homey at the moment.“ I force a melancholic chuckle, deprived of almost all emotion.

“Hey, now that offends me.“ He frowns, showing off just how much I’ve hurt his feelings, “You’d rather crash here than come over to my place? Come on, John, you should know better than that.“ He pauses for a second, eyeing me suspiciously before a smirk appears on his face, “You’re just afraid I’ll bring out the chess board, aren’t you?“

I can’t help but laugh, “Not at all. We both know I’m the better chess player.“

A mock offended expression makes its way onto Y/N’s face as his eyes widen, “Oh, you’re so on now.” He quickly open the door, one foot already out in the hall.

I hurriedly grab my jacket and briefcase from where I left them this morning, “Not before dinner, though. My treat.” I call after him, my arm automatically reaching out for him, taking gentle hold of his wrist, “And, thank you, Y/N. This means a lot to me. Your support, your company, your friendship...everything.”

Y/N turns around, sending me one of his bright, dazzling smiles, “I was on board with you till you said friendship.” He snorts, moving his hand so it can hold mine and give it a gentle squeeze, “Jokes aside, John, I really want to help you and be there for you. So, please, I’m begging you, don’t push me away. At least try not to, ok?”

The warmth seeping from his eyes comforts me, helps me forget what’s been bothering me, at least momentarily. He always understands, he’s always prepared to help, to comfort, prepared to give advice and receive criticism. He’s human, obviously, but a human who understands what it’s like to be let down, brought down and forced to pick yourself back up, I haven’t found many who understand that in my life. He was my support when I decided to get clean, my biggest stability pillar, why couldn’t he help me now too? Why don’t I allow him to make me at least half the person he is?

“I’ll try, Y/N. I promise.“

And this is a promise I’ll keep, starting by discarding all the alcohol bottles in my house.

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fangirlovestuff · 4 years

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Holding Out for a Hero- Steve Rogers x Reader Pt.9

a\n-Hey lovely people! This one is very much self-indulgent fluff & smut. (If you don't like smut just consider the part where you reach your room the end of the chapter) Enjoy <3

summary: date night ;)

part 8

Steve caught up with you when you all left the meeting room. "Hey," he said softly, "You okay?"

You put your head on his chest and he wrapped your arms around you. "I just don't get how I let that happen. Why did I not ask about him more?" Steve rubbed his hands on your back soothingly. "How could I have been so blind? This man was double-crossing the team and I was playing scrabble with him, not knowing a thing. I just-" you sighed, "I just wish I would've done better."

Steve lifted your head from his chest and looked at you, his brows furrowed gently. "You couldn't have possibly known if he passed the security check. These things are super thorough. You did the best you could," his gaze softened, "and that's enough."

You smiled at him and pecked his lips, not needing words to express your gratitude. "So, now that this whole thing is over, how about that date you promised me?" you said teasingly. "I seem to recall something about a real date that included 'leaving the house', which seems very exciting." Steve smiled. "How about tomorrow night?"

"Why not tonight?" you pouted, mirth shining in your eyes. "Because I need time to plan." You rolled your eyes. "You had two whole weeks to plan. But whatever," you said mock-annoyedly, "I guess tomorrow night must do." Steve laughed at your antics and gave you a sweet kiss.

You practically ran to Julie's room. You thankfully heard her and Bucky talking, which meant they weren't busy doing… other activities. You knocked on her door. "Come in!" you heard Jules call. You barged in, not even caring Bucky was there, "Steve and I are finally going on a date tomorrow!" you exclaimed with a huge smile on your face. "Oh my god! That's great!" Jules smiled as well. "Bucky, I'll talk to you later." Bucky tried to protest but Jules glared at him and he meekly left the room.

"Where is he taking you?" Jules asked once Bucky left the room. "I don't know yet, he'll probably keep it a surprise," you replied. "Well," Jules said, "it doesn't really matter as long as you get laid later," she smirked. "God Jules," you laughed, "sometimes I think you want me to have sex more than I do. Just in case, would you do me a favor and take Lola to your room tomorrow?"

"I just want what's best for you," she winked. "And of course I will. But seriously, I know how much you were looking forward to this date. You must be bursting with excitement!"

"I nearly am," you admitted, unable of keeping your smile off your face. You stayed in Julie's room for a while after that, having your girl talk and laughing until you cried at Jules' ridiculous jokes.

Tomorrow night couldn't come soon enough. You were antsy the entire day, your mission report taking a lot more time than it should.

Finally, tomorrow night came. Steve told you to be ready at 7, so you showered and got dressed. Steve refused to tell you where you were going, so you didn't really know what to wear. You ended up going with a simple, comfortable dress. Nothing too elaborate, but it showed off your curves very nicely.

At exactly 7 pm, you heard a knock at your door. You opened it and Steve was in front of you, looking extremely handsome in a navy polo shirt and black jeans. He looked at you in awe. "You look beautiful as always," he complimented and pulled his arm from behind his back revealing a small bouquet of red roses. It was so cheesy, and you couldn't help but beam at him. "You look great too." You took the bouquet from his hand and kissed his cheek. "I'll just put these in a vase and then we can go."

After you put the flowers away, Steve took your hand and led you towards the elevators. "So, are you finally gonna tell me where we're going?"

"No. Be patient," he smiled at you.

You got to the Avengers garage, if you could call it that. It was a big underground parking lot, filled with cars that belonged to the residents of the compound. Some, like Tony, probably had more than one. Steve led the way to a black Audi. He opened the passenger door for you and got into the driver's seat. "Where are we going Steve?" you asked again, unable to contain yourself. "You'll see," he said with a mysterious air. "Come on!" you pouted, "Can you at least tell me what we're going to be doing? Cause I'm actually pretty hungry."

"Well, you're in luck," he smiled, "We're going to eat." You whooped, making him laugh heartily.

After a pretty short ride, you stopped at a little Italian restaurant on the side of the road. Steve quickly got out of the car to open your door for you, his hand extended for you to take. "Always the gentleman," you smiled and rolled your eyes at him as you took his hand. You liked being "treated like a lady", or "courted", or whatever old-fashioned thing it is Steve was doing. You had to admit, you felt properly wooed.

You entered the restaurant hand in hand. "Mr. Rogers, we were waiting for you," said the hostess at the entrance, and let you to a small, secluded niche at the back of the restaurant. There was a candle-lit table for two waiting for you. Steve thanked the hostess and she left you to your own devices, saying someone will take our orders in a few minutes.

"What do you think?" Steve asked, looking you softly. "I really like it," you said honestly, eyeing the restaurant. It was a pretty fancy spot, but because of its small size and dim lighting, it still achieved a cozy atmosphere. "I probably couldn't have picked a better restaurant myself," you voiced your thoughts to Steve. He beamed at you, clearly pleased with his choice. "Well, you haven't had the food here yet. It's delicious."

You looked at the menu, noticing the variety of delicious kinds of pasta, having a hard time deciding which one you wanted. A waitress went by your table, carrying a big dish of excellent-smelling pasta. "Steve, are all the dishes in here this big?" you showed the size of the plate you just saw. "Yeah," Steve said casually and your brows shot up. "Didn't you say you were hungry?" he smiled, amused at your reaction. "I am, just not That hungry. Do you mind if we share?"

"Not at all. What do you want?"

"Well, I don’t know. There are so many fancy things here, some of them I don't understand. You've eaten here before, what do you want?"

"Not to insult the fancy dishes, but the best thing in here is probably their spaghetti and meatballs."

"I know what it is, so that's good enough for me. Could you order? I'm just gonna go to the bathroom for a minute," you told Steve, who nodded at you.

You made your way across the restaurant to try and find the bathroom. One of the waitresses directed you there. You did your business and was halfway back at your table when you heard a familiar voice calling your name. "Hey! Is that you?"

You turned around and saw the medic who took care of you your first mission. "Hey!" you smiled and went to his table, where he was sitting with a girl that seemed a little older than you, but still beautiful. "How's your job going? Better than it was the night we met, I hope," he said cheekily. "Yeah, it's going very well. Actually, I didn't catch your name back then." You smiled. "It's Eric," he smiled back, "And this is my fiancée Ellie." She smiled at you in greeting. "I almost thought you were going to say Ariel," you chuckled. "I get that a lot," Eric said and you all laughed. "She's my Disney princess nonetheless." He took Ellie's hand. "It was nice seeing you again," you smiled at them. "Have a great evening!"

"You too," Eric said, "and try not to get into trouble again."

"Will do," you waved at them and went back to your table.

"There you are," Steve smiled, "I was starting to worry you ditched me," he said jokingly, but you caught the glimpse of relief in his eyes. "Never," you smiled reassuringly and took your seat. "Oh, you'd never guess who I just met here! Eric! He's the medic you took me away from on that first mission," you explained. "Nice guy," you continued, "was sitting here with his fiancée. I never did hear the explanation as to why you basically dragged me away from him that night," you said teasingly. To be honest, you didn't really know why Steve pulled you away, but you were willing to bet it was a tease-worthy reason. "What a nice coincidence," Steve ignored the last part of what you said, feigning indifference. "Come on Steve, aren’t you gonna tell me? Please?" you smiled. "You're nosy, you know that?" he said teasingly. "Fine, I surrender. I did it because I was jealous."

"Jealous?" you giggled, "of me and him? Steve, he's a medic who was bandaging my blood-filled leg. That's hardly an attractive scenario."

"I know," Steve sighed, defeated. "But you were laughing with him about something. Besides, you already know I was angry that night so I hardly could rationalize it like you just did," he said sheepishly. You blushed, remembering his romantic speech from that night in the training room. You're wonderful, and my worries shouldn't stop you from kicking ass, he told you. You smiled at him. "Yeah, guess you're right."

Your food arrived, a big hot bowl of pasta and meatballs. Steve and you dug in happily.

"Mmm, That's so good!" you exclaimed. "Told you so," Steve smiled. He had a little sauce in the corner of his mouth and his tongue slipped out to clean it. You swallowed your spaghetti. This man is unbelievable. Who gave him the right to be so goofy and hot at the same time? And he's mine, your brain supplied.

You went on eating in relative silence, except for the occasional sound of slurping. At one point you got the end of a really long spaghetti in your mouth. You continued eating it as you looked up at Steve to show him how absurdly long the pasta was. He looked up at the same time, realizing the other end of the spaghetti was in his mouth. You laughed with your mouth still around the pasta. Eventually, your heads came closer together, and your lips touched as you finished the pasta. You laughed wholeheartedly now, holding Steve's hand from across the table. "I can't believe we just had a Disney moment in real life." Steve looked at you quizzically. "Don't tell me you don't know what Disney is!"

"I know what it is!" Steve laughed, "I just don’t understand what movie that's from."

"I'm totally making you watch that soon. It's Lady and the Tramp, it’s one of my favorites. It has dogs, you'll love it," you gave Steve no room to argue and he laughed.

Your dinner went by like that, talking about Disney movies and other things. When you were waiting for your bill Steve had a far-off look on his face all of a sudden. "You okay there?" you asked, a concerned look on your face. "Yeah, I'm fine." Steve shook from his reverie. "It's just… my mom used to make 'spaghetti and meatballs' on special occasions. Obviously, it wasn't as good as this one, because she didn’t have the ingredients to make it. The spaghetti was pieces of bread she cut in stripes." He reminisced with a smile, "but she put her love into it, so it was the best thing ever."

"She sounds great," you smiled at him. "She was. The greatest." He smiled sadly. You squeezed his hand in yours, trying to comfort him. You knew he lost his mom before he even went in the ice, but these things never really heal.

You got your bill and left the restaurant, waving at Eric as you left. If he was surprised to see you with Captain America, he showed no sign of it, and waved back at you.

You got back into the car. "Ready for the next thing?" Steve asked. "Sure," you said. You didn't realize there was going to be a next thing, but you weren't complaining.

Steve drove you both to a mall close by. You sent him a questioning look but he just smiled at you and led the way into an arcade that was located inside the mall. It seemed closed, but a staff member was inside and opened the door for you.

"Didn't want anyone interrupting us," Steve said, making your way to the token machine and getting some tokens. "What do you wanna do first?" he smiled at you.

You spent the next couple of hours playing most of the machines, and unsurprisingly Steve won almost every time. Damn his reflexes, you thought as he won yet another match of table hockey. But you destroyed him in the Dance Dance Revolution machine.

"Not fair!" he said as you executed the moves perfectly, "You know this game!"

"I knew all of the others as well," you laughed, your answer satisfying him.

You won a small teddy bear as a prize and beamed at Steve. You named him Pooh. "I understood that reference!" he exclaimed and you both laughed.

At last, you thanked the employee that stayed to close after you and made your way to the car, Pooh in one of your hands, the other holding Steve's.

The drive back to the compound was filled with comfortable silence, as you both reflected about the wonderful evening. You reached the compound and Steve escorted you to your room like the perfect gentleman he's been the entire time. "Thank you," you told Steve when you reached your door. "I had a lot of fun tonight."

"Me too," he said, kissing you softly, "Goodnight."

"Oh no, you're not goodnight-ing me!" you pulled him back by his shirt. "You can't keep a girl waiting that long Steve-" you came closer to him and circled your arms around his broad shoulders, whispering in his ear, "-that wouldn't be very gentlemanly of you. And we both know how much you like being a gentleman." You smirked at him, pulling him in for a sensual kiss.

After a few seconds Steve caught on, grabbing your hips. The kiss turned hungry and almost desperate and you moaned into Steve's mouth. You pulled apart from him to unlock your door, you and Steve stumbling in, taking your shoes off and locking the door hastily. Steve caught your lips again in a heated kiss as you guided both of you to the bed. Your hands tangled in Steve's hair as you landed on the bed, Steve in top of you, placing open-mouthed kisses on your jaw and neck. Your hands reached the small of his back, bringing his shirt up to his head and tugging it off his body. Your mouth went dry at the sight of his chiseled chest. You placed wet kisses along his collarbone as he tugged at your dress, helping him get it off of your body.

"God, you're beautiful," he said in a hoarse voice that made you wet instantly. He kissed your collarbones, making his way to suck the tops of your breasts, probably leaving a mark, as he unhooked your bra and threw it away. He took one of your nipples in his mouth, teasing it with his tongue as he did the same with his hand on the other. "Steve," you moaned at the sensation and ran your hands on his chest, reaching to undo his belt and push his pants off his legs. When his pants were off you felt his erection against your leg as he ground against you involuntarily.

You slipped your hand past the elastic of his boxers, gripping him and moving your hand along his length. He breathed heavily. "tease," he murmured in your ear, kissing your neck as he took off the rest of your underwear, and his own, leaving you both naked. His mouth found yours once more in a heated kiss as his hand traveled down and teased your clit. You moaned into his mouth. "I need you," you whispered in his ear as you kissed down his neck.

"Wait-" he started, but you reached over to your bedside drawer and pulled out a condom before he finished the sentence. He raised his brow at you, and you rolled your eyes at him. "Shut up and fuck me," you kissed his collarbone. "I never said anything," Steve chuckled, lining himself up with your entrance, "but as you wish," he whispered as he pushed his length into you.

You gasped at the sensation, nails digging into his toned back. He filled you up completely, groaning. "You feel so good around me baby," he whispered huskily and bit down in your collarbone. You took a couple of seconds adjusting to him stretching your walls and then rolled your hips against his.

You moved in sync, grinding against each other. You wrapped your legs around him, allowing him to go deeper, hitting your g-spot again and again. You were so close when Steve's thrusts started faltering, and he brought his hand to your clit one more, bringing you over the edge with him. Your walls contracted around him as you felt waves of pleasure coursing through your body. As you both got down from your high, he pulled out of you and you almost whined at the loss. You knew you'd have a hard time walking tomorrow, but right now you couldn’t help but wanting him inside you. He came back to bed after he disposed the condom and wrapped his arm behind you, moving your hair from your neck and kissing your shoulder sweetly.

"That was…" he trailed off. "Amazing," you finished his sentence and he chuckled. "Exactly." "If we're in agreement, then there's something I wouldn't mind," you said seductively and ground your butt into him. He groaned behind you and bit your neck. The night was still young, and you were so ready for round two.

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers imagine #Steve Rogers x Female Reader #steve rogers smut #avengers imagine #avenger!reader #Avengers #MCU fic #chris evans

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humanoidmindbox · 4 years

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Us Vs. Them

Abstract

In this essay, I will be assessing my personal feelings and attitudes toward different and defined groups. During this analysis, I will be breaking up the population into four groups: Us, Them, Allies, and Enemies. These groups have been formulated by and based on the workings and fields of psychology, psychiatry, individuals with mental illnesses (including me) and how societal norms fit into issues raised in this paper. I hope you find this to be worthwhile and I hope this sparks the fire of your intellectual flame.

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The American population, in the terms of mental illness, psychology, and sociology, fall into one of four categories which are detailed below:

This group of people are those who suffer from profound mental illness. The affliction must be (Your illness doesn't have to be all of these things, but it must be most of them):

Chronic; recurring; cause suffering; affect your relationships with others; make it so you cannot keep a job; make it so you cannot function in society; possibly get government compensation for your illness; *been hospitalized in the psych ward; been arrested when your symptoms were active; reckless and/or impulsive behaviors; suicide attempt(s); and became violent when your symptoms were active.

Them

These people are the majority of the population. They blindly follow pop culture and buy into what the masses are doing, believing, and saying. They do not have severe mental illness although they may be diagnosed with the garden-variety depression and anxiety. They have never been to inpatient for mental disorders, except maybe once, a long time ago. They will try to relate to you when it comes to mental health but they are just regurgitating what the trendy treatments and hardships are (the commonplace “social anxiety” is on the rage right now). In the inpatient hospital, the Them are the hospital staff. Especially the ones who give you the shot and put you in isolation. They are the ones who pink slip you and call the police. They think drugs are bad. You can’t truly trust Them. They don’t understand you and they probably never will. Most of Them are not hateful or mean. They are just ignorant, inexperienced, and constantly lecturing you or preaching to you. Most of Them view you as less-than, whether it is intended or not.

Allies

Imagine a straight line down the middle of a square. This divides the “Us” and “Them” that we already went over. But directly on that line, not leaning to one side or the other, sits the “Allies.” The Us’s allies have most likely not gone to the mental hospital except maybe once, long ago. But they have a mental illness that brings them suffering. They may be in mental health treatment. They struggle almost every day and their behaviors reflect that. They are a part of society and will never and have never been deemed unfit to be a working part of society. They get along with others although they feel like no one completely understands them. They do not blindly follow all of pop culture’s rules and trends. They support the Us. We can trust them somewhat. They are our allies.

Enemies

The Enemies only exist within the “Them” group. They are the ones we must watch the most carefully and never trust. Most of “Us'' do not have many Enemies on the outside but we have plenty of Enemies on the inside (inpatient). The Enemies at the hospital are those who give you the shot after they have to hold you down when you’re screaming and thrashing around because you’re so fucking freaked out. They are the ones who put you in four point restraints and let you “tire yourself out.” On the outside, the police are the Enemy for apprehending you while they get a pink slip. They are anyone who pink slips you. The Enemy tells you that you’re crazy when you know you are doing well. They threaten the hospital and hang it over your head. The Enemy treats you unfairly because something that you cannot control or help is wrong with you. The reason why Them can never be fully trusted is because any one of Them could become the Enemy at any time.

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I first felt the “Us Vs. Them” divide when I started frequenting mental hospitals. And when I started showing signs of severe symptoms of mental illness. In the hospital, you are a “rat in a cage” (Smashing Pumpkins song) with the staff holding the only key to get out. A drastic power imbalance exists between the staff and the patient: we are the prisoners and they are the guards. All we want to do is get out. All we want to do is go home. And if not home, then at least to a different, free place.

When I had my major mental breakdown/manic episode of winter 2019, I had been taking my medications- they were just the wrong ones. In the cage, you must take your medications, whether you want to or not. Whether you trust Them or not. If you refuse medication, They take you to court and get a court order forcing you to take your medication while you are inpatient.

There are some key ways that the “Us” and the “Them” are different in the mental hospital dynamic. They own your body: you are forced to take medications, you are locked in a box (hopefully not isolation). You can’t hurt yourself and if you do, you will stay longer (same goes for violence against others). They control your behaviors: They deem what is “appropriate” and “inappropriate” behaviors. If you break the rules surrounding these behaviors, you will get the shot, isolation, moved to a worse ward (for the more violent and disruptive patients), restraint holds, staying longer, or any combination of these events. The worst one I can think of is moving wards up a number. They try to brain-wash you: They say: “There is only one way to live life and we know the correct way to live it.” “The correct way to live is only what we arbitrarily and subjectively call “healthy coping mechanisms” and you must abandon all “unhealthy” ones in order to live life correctly and avoid being society’s pariah.” “Your only hope to be a functioning person is to abide by the teachings of CBT and DBT. All other methods will not work.” They have the opinion that their methods of recovery always work and if you are not having positive effects from their treatments, you must be doing it wrong- they deny that their treatments do not work for everybody and fail to recognize that the “bad” coping mechanisms are the only way that certain people can get by.

When you are mandated as an inpatient in the hospital, you have no rights. They take away your rights as a person. They tell you where to go, what to eat, and they control how long you are in there, what medication you take, and worst of all- when you get put down like a dog with a shot or when you switch to a more severe level. You are treated like an animal in a cage, and there is nothing that you can do about it. Losing control of your own body to this degree leads to something inside of you breaking and you turning into a feral animal (hospital song). After that happens (especially if it happens multiple times), you are never the same.

There are laws to keep other people from harming you or your property. I believe that it is a good thing that these laws are in place and that they should be upheld. But there are also laws that are made to prevent you from harming yourself and I don’t think such laws should exist. Once again, I question what the authorities, our working society (Them) and the masses (Them) deem “harmful” and ultimately illegal.

Most people in society simply follow popular culture. They just look to what the majority of others do and follow suit. But they have blinders on: they don’t see that they come up with justifications and sorry attempts at reasons to back-up their choice to blindly follow the majority.

The authorities and society says:

Drugs = Bad→ Laws against it.

Self-harm = Bad→ No laws against it but there is intense societal disapproval and shaming connected to it.

*It is the least harmful on this list because it does not alter your mood or drastically change your brain chemistry for prolonged periods of time. But, apparently, it is the most shocking and the most taboo.

Medication = Good→ Sometimes there are laws enforcing it.

I believe all of these things can be good or bad depending on the specific person that it affects. Everyone is different and if you simply follow what pop culture’s opinion is on these issues without looking into them further, it shows ignorance, a lack of curiosity and exploration, rigidity, and a propensity towards the judgement of others. It often signifies that the “Them” in question is too weak to think for themselves and to withstand society’s brainwashing.

I will never think of cutting or drugs as “bad coping skills.” “Good coping skills” consist of talking about your issues and crying according to the “Them.” And according to the hospitals, CBT, and DBT, good coping skills include activities like aroma therapy and drawing. But what do these things do? Nothing. You need a release or a change in the state of mind. Talking about what upsets you is just reliving it all over again. Plus, what if you do not trust anyone enough to tell them what's on your mind? Crying is bullshit. I feel that it is pathetic for me to cry. That’s just how I feel. I have trained myself not to. So why should I do something detrimental to myself when I am already in distress? “Good” coping skills don’t really work and only the simple-minded buy into them. “Bad” coping skills shouldn’t be judged as bad or taboo just because others have all-or-none thinking about them when it's the only thing that helps some people.

Medication: Taking medication should be the mentally ill’s choice. Medication is not right for everybody; it is not always the best thing to do. Not everyone likes themselves on medication. Who are we to judge if a person is the “correct” version of themselves or not? Forcing someone to take psychiatric medications is rooted in a power and control structure that overshadows others. I believe that we should leave others alone when it comes to this and let them live how they want to live. Just because we’re mentally ill, doesn't mean we have to do what you want with our bodies anymore.

In conclusion, I believe individuals and society as a whole should look beyond the systems of the law, procedures in mental health facilities, standard practices of therapies, pop culture trends/rules , and societal norms to find each of our unique spots in this society. We need to rethink what is considered “unhealthy” and what is “healthy” and why we put actions into those categories. We need to be more open and steer clear of letting others dictate what we believe. I’m tired of being lectured and shamed. Let's move on together.

#mental hospital #mental illness #mental health #mental disorder #essay #prose #prose essay #sociology #abnormal psychology #psych #psychology #psychology student

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airi-p4 · 4 years

Text

Perfect asymmetry

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Epilogue

My fav. fic yet :)

Warning: Rated T for mild language

Warning 2: Includes art (1 simple totally SFW drawing)

Thanks to @livrever for the corrections!

Available in Ao3 too

____________________________________

It was late night and Juleka was crying in her room. Fortunately, or unfortunately, her room was shared with his brother, Luka, whom, having a trained ear from his music studies, could hear her sobbing clear and loud.

Luka was sleepy in his bed. He had been trying to sleep, but now he was internally debating if he should leave her sister alone or ask her what’s wrong. Kindness was one of his main traits, and he couldn’t deny he had a soft spot for his beautiful younger sister, so it didn’t take long for him to get out of his bed, stand up on his feet and move towards Juleka’s part of the room, crossing past the partitions that separated both areas.

“What’s wrong, Jules? Don’t cry please.” He said while looking at her curled up in her bed, in a fetal position using her pillow to hide her face.

“I… I’ll never be able to become a model anymore…” she managed to say between her crying hiccups.

“Don’t say that… You’re pretty, you know that. I’m sure you can be an excellent model. It’s your dream, right? You just have to be confident and trust yourself.” Luka sat on the bottom part of her bed, where her feet would be if she weren’t all curled up hugging her knees. He was stretching to pat Juleka’s head as he talked.

“No… I can’t… Not anymore…” she mumbled.

“Why? What happened? Tell me.” He had a soft smile on his face, and just that was enough to make Juleka relax a little.

“It’s embarrassing… I… I can’t be a model anymore because… because…” Juleka paused for some seconds. Luka was willing to listen to her closely and, with a welcoming look and slightly nodding, he encouraged Juleka to continue what she was saying. Trusting absolutely in her brother, Juleka continued talking in a very low voice. “My chest… my breast sizes… are different… They're not symmetrical at all…not pretty…”

‘Well, that was unexpected’, Luka thought. Nothing he could do about it except encourage her and try to make her feel better.

“Hey, Jules, it’s OK! I heard having different breast sizes happens to most women. I would say it’s pretty common! So, don’t overthink it, you’ll be fine as you are! Even Marinette’s are-” Luka gasped as he noticed his mistake, covering his mouth with his hand and looking away embarrassed. “Forget this last part. I just mean it’s OK, it’s normal and nothing that can crush your dream. So stop crying, OK? Just get some rest and you’ll feel better tomorrow”. He spoke nervously and faster than usual. Just as he stopped talking he kissed his sister's long purple hair before getting ready to take his leave “Sleep well”.

Luka stood up fast, in a rush to leave as soon as he could. But he found it impossible when Juleka rapidly grabbed his arm, VERY strongly, impeding him from moving farther. She had returned to a sitting position after his brother had kissed her hair, in order to stare fiercely into his brother’s eyes. Good thing she had stopped crying, but she had now a killer look on her face and Luka knew he was screwed.

“I’m not forgetting any of your spoken words. It’s your turn to explain to me now. HOW THE HELL DO YOU KNOW ABOUT MARINETTE’S BREAST SIZES!?”

Luka choked at how direct was the answer that came out of her sister’s mouth. He immediately got his brain cells working to think a way out of the mess he got caught in because of his slip of the tongue. An excuse (or a memory, to be accurate), didn’t last long to appear in his mind.

“You know, we went to the pool together some days ago and… I just noticed… You know, she was wearing that pink and black bikini… the…" Luka blushed at the memory as he paused "You know which one I mean…”

“Oh YES. The flashy one. No, the SEXY one. Of course I know. I couldn’t stop staring at her for a long while! No one who was there could! Not until you lend her your jacket to brush the pervs looks off! I’m thankful you did that, you know? She kind of made me feel like a horny girl. God, she looked so gorgeous!”

Luka couldn’t help it but to internally nod in agreement while his sister talked. But there was more talk coming, the type of talk that meant trouble to Luka and caught him unprepared.

“That’s why I know you are lying. Because I myself stared at Marinette long enough to memorize every detail of her beautifully sculpted body, from her toned abs, legs and arms, to her delicate hands, face, lips and ankles, and, of course, her beautifully round boobs she was almost exposing to everyone there! And you know what? That even with all that staring, I couldn’t notice any asymmetry in her body at ALL. So, don’t you dare to LIE to me. I’ll ask you again: HOW DO YOU KNOW MARINETTE’S BREAST SIZES?.”

“I- I don’t know, I just-…“. Luka had run out of ideas and immediately knew he had no escape. But he was too embarrassed to talk about Marinette’s chest with his sister. It just seemed wrong. But Juleka was not a patient girl and she was not willing to lose her time with an unclear answer.

“Look. I’ll ask you directly. DID YOU GRAB HER BOOBS, YES OR NO!?”

Luka choked. God, THAT really was a direct question. A hell of an embarrassing question. How is he supposed to say yes to that without sounding like a pervert? How is he supposed to give his sister details about how she made out with her close friend? Luka short-circuited at the thought, and Juleka wouldn’t give him any second to breathe, pressuring him further. He could notice she was grabbing his arm even stronger.

“ANSWER ME NOW!”

“OK, I did. I DID! I touched her breasts, OK!? That’s why I know there’s a slight size difference between them. That’s it, I answered you. Can I go now?” it was rare to see Luka impatient and flushed with red all over his face, but Juleka was not satisfied with that answer. She wanted to know more.

“Why? How? I need to know! Are they as soft as they look?”

“God, Juleka! Don’t ask me embarrassing things like that! I’m your brother! This could haunt me forever!” Luka had his arm still grabbed by his sister, but he used his remaining free hand to partially cover his face. “And hell yes, they’re even softer than they look…”. The musician couldn’t help but slightly smile at the memory. “Ugh… I feel like a pervert now… Don’t make me say this kind of thing, please!”.

“You know I can just ask her instead if you prefer… Or maybe I’ll ask her to let me touch them too… God, I would love to touch them…”

“Jules, NO!”

“Why? Is she your girlfriend? She isn’t as far as I know…” Luka seemed to have lost his usual cool. She got him just where she wanted.

“No… she isn’t my girlfriend. At least not yet? I think…? I mean- We really did have a private moment together but… I don’t know… I want to ask her tomorrow if she wants to date me but… What if she says no? God… I’m a mess and full of nervous. I don’t want to lose her…”

“You touched her boobs.”

“Well, that’s right but-”

“You grabbed them. And most likely massaged them. And with her permission, I assume. I know you wouldn’t do it otherwise” Juleka sounded partially angry and pretty confident.

“Well, that’s true but- “

“Did you kiss? God, don’t tell me you didn’t even kiss her before grabbing her boobs, ‘cause I’m going to punch you”

“No, I- I did… I kissed her. But even so-”

“Enough of ‘buts’! If there is a chance you are the reason she was wearing that fricking sexy bikini for at the pool, and I think there is a pretty likely, I’d say it’s pretty obvious she is more than INTERESTED in you. God, the oblivious girl didn’t even notice the pervs staring at her, she only looked at YOU and your embarrassed reactions!”

“Wait, really…? She did…? Are you sure, Juleka? ‘Cause I don’t want to be heartbroken again. Not after what happened with Adrien…”

Overconfidence wasn’t one of Luka’s main personality traits but, seeing him in such low spirits was unusual. He is mostly a positive boy, who is used to encourage people but not used to be encouraged. Good thing Juleka knew exactly how to handle him.

“JUST ASK HER OUT YOU IDIOT! My God… she let you kiss her and grab her boobs! What else do you need!? I’ll ask her out if you don’t!” Juleka’s voice wasn’t low anymore. She sounded angry and kind of… smitten?

“Wha-…!? Don’t you dare to sabotage your older brother! You’re interested in Rose!” Is she teasing me? Luka thought as he talked back to the girl.

“I’ve always had a thing for Marinette too, so I wouldn’t mind trying… If I’m lucky enough I could… you know… grab her BOOBS, maybe?” She couldn’t hide a chuckle as her teasing continued.

Luka, noticed her teasing and knew she wasn’t talking seriously, so he cooled down a little and decided to tease back, backfiring where it hurt her, but knowingly doing it avoiding any real damage. He smirked as he let his voice out.

“What the hell happened to your crying and your breast size complex, sis? I was supposed to be the one encouraging and cheering you up. Shouldn't we return to that topic? I can let you touch my chest too if you want...” Luka was talking in a sassy way, his hand over his chest.

“Ew, gross! But hey, you already did cheer me up! I’m in high spirits now! Thank you for telling me even perfection is not perfect. I feel way better now. And maybe, if she says yes tomorrow, which I’m sure she will, I’ll get to see your girlfriend’s boobs in the flesh. Don’t mind me if my hand slips and I ‘accidentally’ touch them sometime…”.

“I don’t know how I should feel about that…" Luka pouted "but I’m glad you feel better and that you’re not crying anymore.” He ended his words with a sincere smile on his face.

“You’re the best, Luka. Dumb, but still the best. Go get your girl tomorrow!”

Luka couldn’t tell if Juleka was serious or joking, but it could perfectly be both. At least she had a teasing but genuine smile on her face, and that made him feel relieved she was back to herself. She wouldn’t usually show her true self to anyone, not even her friends, so it made him happy she could express like that around him. He loved her laugh and, knew exactly how to summon it.

“YEAH! Bring it on! Rock and roll!” trying to imitate Jagged Stone’s accent, voice, tone and pose, Luka let out an unusually loud voice.

“OMG This is the worst imitation of Jagged Stone I’ve ever seen!! How can you be so bad at it!?”

Both siblings started laughing effusively, playing a little more their imitation games before going to sleep.

______________________________________________

The next day came peacefully as the light entered through the round windows of the cabins inside the Liberty, the houseboat Luka and Juleka lived in. Luka couldn’t sleep much due to his nervousness but rested well enough before waking up from the first rays of sunlight of the day. He woke up early and saw Juleka was waking up too, as the sun illuminated her pretty round face.

“Good morning,” Luka said.

“Good morning…” she was sleepy, but after remembering the previous night conversation with her brother, she immediately got cheerful and smiled at him as she got up out of bed. “Ready for today? Remember you’re not allowed to chicken out!” she teased him, giggling.

“Yes, yes… I know. I don’t want you to steal her from me” He smiled and giggled back at her, ruffling her hair. “I’ll make breakfast. Why don’t you get ready and prepare your things meanwhile?”

Juleka nodded and went to the bathroom. With their mother sleeping from the tiredness of her night-time job, Luka was normally the one in charge of the cooking. There was another reason for his cooking responsibility: the last time his mother cooked something the boat almost got incinerate, and Juleka was still terrified of fire after that life-threatening experience.

After the siblings peacefully finished eating their breakfast, Juleka was in charge of the dishes. They would always save some breakfast for Anarka, that Juleka made sure to wrap with transparent film. It was then Luka’s turn to get prepared for University. It was already his second year in Music Degree and he still couldn’t get used to it. He sometimes hated it, and sometimes loved it. He hated to ride the crowded metro at rush hour the most, but he loved composition lessons, which made it worth it. Perfection doesn’t exist, I guess… He thought, but then he was instantly reminded of Marinette, the girl he considered perfect in all aspects. ‘God bless cold showers’, he whispered before grabbing a towel.

Luka’s had to cross half of Paris by metro to reach his University. That meant he had to leave home way earlier than his sister and return later too. Still, with his delivery job to do, it would be late when he could actually get to see the girl he loved. And he still had to ask her if she wanted to meet today. Since he had some minutes left before leaving, he messaged the twin-tailed girl.

“Good morning, Marinette.”

“Could we meet today? I have to tell you something”

Marinette didn’t reply to him before he had to leave, so he only got more and more nervous. Juleka had told him she was probably still sleeping, but he was feeling uneasy. ‘Be positive’, he told himself. But classes started and there was still no reply from her, even if the ‘read’ signal was on. Negative thoughts kept his mind busy as classes went on. He would later need to ask his classmates to lend him their notes.

______________________________________________

Marinette panicked when she saw Luka’s message on her phone. ‘Is it time? Is it finally coming today? The long-awaited confession? Did he finally get my hints? God, I hope he’s not backing off and telling me he doesn’t want to see me ever again! I feel like I could die if he does!’

Marinette was in her last year of High School, but even being older now, she didn’t change much. Of course, she matured physically and mentally, but she had a WILD imagination that wouldn't let her act cool when it came to her crushes. And not only a crush, this time she was IN LOVE, which made things even worse. As her messy thoughts occupied her mind, she didn’t realize she still hadn’t written a reply to the boy she loved. And just like that, it became midday.

During lunchtime at High School, Juleka approached Marinette, who didn’t notice her: she was still immersed in her thoughts about a certain blue-haired boy.

“Good morning”

“Aah! Juleka, you startled me! Good morning” Marinette had jumped what seemed impossible from the surprise.

“What’s wrong? You seem down?” the purple-haired girl asked.

“It’s nothing…” she said while thinking about how she didn't have the courage to tell her about her older brother.

“Is it about Luka? He told me about… well… that.” she had some blush on her face, which made Marinette think of the worst possible scenario.

“WHAT DID HE TELL YOU!?”

Marinette's voice was very loud and it made all the students nearby turn around to look at the girls. She blushed and covered her mouth and the crowd rapidly lost their interest.

“Calm down, Marinette. What are you so nervous about? Haven’t you read my brother’s messages?” she asked her friend.

“I did! I’m meeting him today! He said he wants to tell me something! I- I- Do you know what it is? Tell me, please!”. Her arms were moving quickly, showing her nervousness.

“Marinette, you should have told me you cared so much about him. Wow, you two are really idiots. Take a look at this” Juleka reached her pocket and took out her smartphone, turning it on to show her friend the instant messenger app screen.

Luka: “Jules, Marinette hasn’t replied to my messages yet and I can't keep my cool anymore. I'm going crazy. Could you ask her during her free time to meet me at 9 PM at Pont des Arts, please?"

Juleka: “Leave it to me”

Luka: “Thank you, you’re the best”

"Wait. I thought I had replied!?" The girl switched on her smartphone to check her messages with Luka and noticed she had never really replied. "OMG how can I be so stupid!? I’m scared. Should I really go??" Marinette was being her panicking self, saying nonsense, according to Juleka, who was already tired from their useless fears.

"OMG not you too! Give me this". She snatched her friend's mobile phone and messaged her brother as if she was Marinette:

Marinette: “Message received from Juleka. I’ll be there.”

"Done" Juleka said, tossing the smartphone back to her friend.

"What have you done!? Now I have no excuse for not going! I can't make him wait and I have to get ready! OMG I have to wash my hair and choose my clothes and… so many things! I'm scared..."

Marinette's rambles were her usual type, so Juleka decided to ignore them and focus her efforts on the couple, trying to help them out.

"Marinette, I assure you nothing bad will come of that. You already kissed, didn’t you? It will be ok, you'll see” Juleka was smiling both teasingly and honestly.

"HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT!?" Attention from all students was on her again, as she blushed and hid her face. Her friend continued talking.

"Marinette, it will be fine, I assure you it will. Luka is not like Adrien, you know that. Everything’s gonna be alright. Trust me” Juleka's confidence and soft smile made Marinette calm down and feel better immediately.

"Thank you Juleka, you’re the best! Let me know if there’s anything I can ever do for you!"

Marinette's eyes were sparkling while she took her friend's hands into hers in a grateful way. A little blush formed on the long-haired girl's cheeks, as she smiled. Then, her smile became a smirk. 'Anything, huh?', she thought.

"Well… there’s one thing..."

______________________________

It was 7:40 PM when Luka finished his delivery errands. He would usually finish 20 minutes later, but he rushed his bike in order to finish earlier. The extra effort left him sweating and exhausted, but thanks to that, he would be able to go home and take a shower before meeting Marinette.

His nervousness hasn't stopped for any second during that day. He was scheming and considering which one could be the best way to convey his feelings. He wanted them to reach the girl's heart, in a pure and sincere way. It's not like this was his first time confessing to her, but this time was different: he was going to ask her for an answer. He wanted to ask her to be his girlfriend and only two possible answers were in the picture: YES or NO. He tried not to think about the next step after that. Juleka was encouraging him to be positive, so he couldn't afford to lose to pessimistic ideas.

When Luka finished taking a shower it was already 8:25 pm. He felt bad for calling on a girl so late at night, but he couldn't wait any longer, and, since it was early June, he knew the sun would still be out. He wouldn't have chosen this time to meet her otherwise. He didn't want her to walk alone at night around Paris dangerous streets.

The place of the meeting was strategically chosen too: close to Marinette's house and even closer to Luka's houseboat, where he still lived.

He had been planning to rent an apartment for himself for a while, but he didn't want to share it and, finding a good apartment on a budget that he could afford in Paris was almost impossible. Because of that, he still hadn't moved away from his mother's boathouse, but he was getting impatient to go live on his own: sharing a room with his sister at his age wasn't healthy for him anymore, even if he loved and enjoyed being with his sister and mother. You know, men’s needs.

As soon as Luka finished getting ready, he put a slim jacket and some cologne on, made sure his hair was looking good, and brushed his teeth. He wanted to arrive earlier than Marinette so she wouldn't have to wait for him, so he left home 15 minutes early, in order to arrive 10 minutes earlier than the accorded meeting time.

When Luka arrived at Pont Des Arts, Marinette hadn't arrived yet. Some tourists were still strolling around, mainly couples, but the approach of nighttime made them leave little by little. Dinner time was on too, so the chosen time was beneficial in that aspect too. He wouldn't like to have public when he confesses, especially if it ends up with a rejection. 'No negative thinking, damn it'.

Time felt like it wasn't passing for Luka. His nervousness was consuming him, so he decided to grab his guitar and play a little to calm himself down. He didn't succeed, and soon people had approached to listen to him. Some even tossed some coins inside his guitar case.

It was 9 pm and Marinette hadn't arrived. 'Late as always' he thought. But then it was 9:10, 9:15, 9:20... and nothing, still no sign of her. He had been playing his guitar while he waited, but as it was getting too dark, the remaining people had decided to leave. He had only stopped playing when the big arrow was pointing down on his watch.

After returning the guitar inside its case he gazed at the river, losing hope of the girl coming anymore. He wondered if he should throw himself into the river, but the view was nice and he stood up on one of the lower parts of the fence to have a better look of the water of the Seine.

"Luka!!! Nooo!!! Don't do it!!"

Marinette came rushing towards the surprised but extremely happy boy, who was also confused by her words. She ran as fast as she could in her high heels until she lost her balance, spin on her right foot and almost bumping into the fence of the bridge, and almost falling down if it hadn't been for Luka, who placed his hands over her hips and pulled her towards him to miraculously avoid any collision. Luka's pull was so desperate he couldn't control his strength and Marinette fell on him.

Marinette was panting hard from her run. She was on top of Luka, who was on the floor, sitting but almost laying down. Marinette was very close. He could tell she had spent a lot of time styling herself: clothes, hair, and makeup. And even if the race there had messed up her hair, she looked more beautiful than ever.

"You look beautiful," he said.

Marinette suddenly blushed, looking down in embarrassment… only to find the boy's hips under her, with something standing out (literally) and she couldn't take her eyes away from it. The blush on her face couldn't be redder.

"OMG I'M SO SORRY!!" she was screaming while she got up. "I'm so sorry for making you wait… I was styling myself and… I didn’t notice the time... and… all for nothing… it's ruined now…" she looked genuinely sad. "But don't throw yourself to the river, please! I don't think I could live without you! I need you!" she desperately added.

Luka had already stood up from the floor and was staring at the girl in front of him. Marinette had begged, with crying eyes ruining her makeup, for him to live for her, and he was astonished. She had just told him she couldn't live without him and that she needs him. Marinette gasped flustered in red as she noticed her words and Luka couldn't shut his mouth out of the surprise.

"Marinette, what did you say right now? Do you really mean it...?" Marinette shyly nodded, face looking to her feet. "Is it ok for me to think of it in an egoistic way… I mean… Is it ok for me to have hope...with you?" Marinette's eyes were meeting his now, opened as plates as she nodded shyly. That little nod gave Luka all the courage he needed.

"Marinette, I love you. I can't live without you either. Please, be my girlfriend."

Luka had a serious but slightly shy look on his face. A mix of happiness, embarrassment, surprise and hope. On the other hand, Marinette couldn't stop her grin from growing wider on her face.

"Yes!! Finally!!!" She said, completely excited. "I thought you would never ask. I was afraid you didn't feel the same for me after those years and I've been trying to impress you and I've been so desperate recently I can't believe it myself and-"

Luka's face only grinned his happiness as she mumbled things he couldn't hear. "Marinette" he finally called her. "Look".

The sun was already setting and a beautiful sunset had formed and reflected on the river.

"Isn't it pretty?" Said the boy, turning his face slightly over her.

"Yes… so pretty…"

Orange colors were all over their view, their eyes and faces matching with the color of the sky. Luka then took Marinette's hand softly, and linked hands with her as they enjoyed the view. After a few minutes, the light was replaced by the one from the streetlights.

"Sorry I called you so late. I wish I could spend more time with you, but it's already this dark. I don't want your parents to worry…What kind of boyfriend would I be?" Luka said, still trying to assimilate his own words.

"It's ok, Luka. We have a whole life to spend together. I'm your girlfriend now and I hope that when I'm not anymore, it's only because I've become your fiance, and then your wife. I love you and I can't live without you. I really mean it."

Marinette was smiling softly and Luka was stunned by her. Not only she had confessed first, but she also shared his same feelings. He couldn't help it but feel extremely happy but also a little stupid for his passivity and negativity.

"I feel so stupid. Not only you confessed to me first when I was the one who called you here with that purpose, but you also talk as if you have stolen my words from my mouth. I feel exactly the same, Marinette. I love you. I've loved you since the first time we met and I hadn't stop loving you since then. Thank you for becoming my girlfriend. It means everything to me".

The new couple was smiling softly and Luka finally leaned in to kiss his girlfriend. It was a romantic kiss filled with pure love, leaving butterflies inside their stomachs and giving them electric vibrations on their lips. With darkness surrounding them, their senses intensified, making them feel like only them were existing in the world.

When they separated, both of them wanted to kiss again, but they were aware of the time, so they decided to hold their feelings back for now.

"I'll walk you home," said the boy, lending the girl his jacket. His girlfriend nodded in response.

They walked hand in hand to Marinette's home, while she talked about how disappointed she was she styled up for nothing and could have made better use of that time if she had arrived on time to their meeting. Luka could only smile at her rambles, thinking about how he had never been this happy in his whole life.

After kissing 'goodbye, see you tomorrow', Marinette went inside her house from the back door and Luka returned home with a smile he couldn't hide on his face.

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Luka arrived home after a long day. He was physically exhausted, but his mind was floating in Loveland. Juleka received his brother at his arrival, as Anarka had already left to work.

"Welcome back," the little sister said, before giving him a fast scan. "I was going to ask you how it went, but your stupid grin is obvious enough. Eww, disgusting!”. She stuck her tongue out for a second before continuing “Congratulations on getting a girlfriend" she smiled, secretly happy for his brother.

"Thanks, Jules. I just can't believe it. Marinette is extraordinary. She's sweet, honest, and surprising. God and she is beautiful and her lips are made of magic..."

"Eww! Enough! Stop daydreaming about your girlfriend, skip the sugar when you talk to me. Let's talk about important things: you know you owe me one, right?" Juleka smirked as she teased her brother.

"Juleka, I owe you one. You're the best! Come here". Luka gave his sister a hug full of gratitude and fraternal love, which Juleka loved but would never recognize it all loud to anyone. Even less to Luka. She started to tease him in order to hide her feelings.

"Hey, Luka. You know? It's a B" she said.

"Pardon?" Luka blinked rapidly at the randomness of her sister’s words.

“Marinette. She wears a B cup” she specified.

"Of course you would know that just from looking…and you are a girl so..." Luka pouted a little for breaking the magic of their sibling hug.

*And listen, her actual sizes are…" Juleka had grabbed his brother's upper arms and made him go down a little, so she could whisper certain numbers to his ear. She let go of him and smirked when she became quiet.

“JULEKA. HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT?" Said Luka loudly, losing his usual cool. The blue-eyed boy opened his eyes surprised and grabbed his sister's upper arms so he could look her face to face.

“What can I say? You were right! There’s a slight difference between them” she sighed as she smirked.

"OMG Juleka you grabbed my girlfriend’s breasts!? You betrayer!" Luka couldn't hide his shock.

"She wasn’t your girlfriend yet and she was in debt with me. Of course, I would take the chance" the long-haired girl explained with a victorious grin on her face.

"JULEKA COUFFAINE YOU’RE NOT GETTING CLOSE TO MY GIRLFRIEND AGAIN!" He warned her, part joking, as he knew his sister was just teasing him.

"Too bad we’re meeting tomorrow… Maybe I’ll get to explore something more… You know: benefits of being a 'girl friend'" Juleka licked her lips teasingly after finishing her words and Luka choked.

"Don’t you dare touch my girlfriend, you traitor!". Luka frowned.

"I'm can’t promise you anything."

Luka thought of how Juleka was always able to make him lose his cool with her teasing and Juleka loved messing with her brother. They both knew she was just joking, as she only had eyes for Rose, but they enjoyed the fun.

And with that, one more day of giggles filling their shared room and houseboat ended. But this one was extra memorable: for their bonds as siblings, and with Marinette too, got stronger than ever. All thanks to a pair of beautiful small soft round pair of B sized breasts and a girl’s complex.

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I hope you enjoyed this, because I’m already working on the prequel :)

#my fic #airipyon #airip4 #lukanette fic #fic: perfect asymmetry #lukanette endgame #I hope you enjoyed this #thanks for reading

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