#like I think it actually matters a lot that hes not just a force of evil that drives conflict but a Person whose circumstances and choices | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

beabnormal24 · 2 days

Note

I just saw that you’re writing Carcar fic, a snippet pls 🙏

I love your stories so much so I’m really excited ❤️

This is the first thing that I read when I wake up, thank you so much anon because this means a lot to me, so I'll do it.

(I edited this post, 'cause I had a bit of trouble publishing it)

Soo, a not-so-little snippet for you!

“Mate, I honestly think you’re just exaggerating. It doesn’t sound like that big of a deal to me, really.” Logan stretches his legs out, knocking his feet right against Oscar’s knee.

Oscar grumbles in lieu of an answer, lowering his head until he can hide his gaze in the bottom of his pint.

“Don’t know why you hate the guy so much; he seems alright to me.”

The thing is, Oscar Piastri does not hate Carlos Sainz.

Hate is too strong of a word for an individual with whom Oscar tends to have zero to no interaction whatsoever, except for forced polite greetings in the elevator and those rare times when Carlos decides that going out with Lando is worth his time.

Oscar sincerely thinks that only pretentious people claim to be as busy as Carlos does, so much so that he never seems able to find an evening to spend an ounce of time with his best friend.

So, no, Oscar does not hate him. He just can’t stand him, which is a big difference and Logan should note that.

Is the prospect of working alongside him on his most important project of his entire career going to deepen that grudge? Probably, surely.

But Oscar is, in fact, a professional, no matter what Carlos thinks of him, and he knows how to work with people he would rather keep a safe distance from. Nail guy and Germophobic guy should be more than enough proof.

“You don’t know him.” Oscar protests, sighing in frustration. Lando raises an unimpressed eyebrow next to him, tapping his chin. “Alright, sorry Lando. You do not know him in a working context.”

“I mean, how different can that be?” Logan says doubtfully. “Lando said you don’t even work in the same department.”

“Lando is just biased because Carlos got to him before us.”

Lando snorts, shaking his head with an amused smile. “Wow, thanks Oscar, you make it sound like I can make my own decisions.”

Oscar shrugs. “You’re welcome.”

“Has he started complaining about being paired up with Carlos, yet?” Yuki asks just as he settles down two other pints on their booth’s table.

Alex trails behind him, carefully balancing two portions of fries on each arm before sliding in the empty seat next to Logan.

“Mate, you have no idea.” Logan groans, placing a sloppy kiss on Alex’s cheek as he steals a fry from his portion.

Alex rolls his eyes, but still lets him with a fond smile. Oscar sincerely thinks he could puke.

“I really don’t understand why you despise him so much. He seems alright to me.” Alex says, failing at hiding the curiosity behind his voice.

“Babe! I said the same exact thing!”

“And he’s a great golf player, honestly.”

Oscar sighs, knowing that he’s left with his shoulders against the wall.

It’s not like his friends would understand, anyway, since they do not have to walk in his shoes.

Logan and Alex do not count, because they like everyone, and Yuki is one of the most unfazed people Oscar has ever met, Lando is just obsessed with Carlos for reasons Oscar will probably never fully comprehend.

He’s left alone, on this matter, even when they all go out together and Charles and Carlos tag along, Carlos is the only one who seems to not have any joke or a single word to address to Oscar.

Lando says that he’s probably the one actually ignoring him. Oscar thinks that Carlos is just plain out rude to him, and only him.

But that’s a bit childish, so he’ll keep that thought to himself.

Everyone starts focusing on their own food, and Oscar stupidly hopes that the topic must’ve finally been brought out of his last Saturday night as a free man before three months of utter nightmare.

And then Yuki quips in and reduces his hopes to shreds. “On his first day, Carlos told Andrea that he thought Oscar was too young for that position, and that he would be inexperienced. Oscar heard him, and he’s totally convinced that Carlos knows that he heard him but he still never apologised and Oscar took that personally because he’s peevish.”

“I am not peevish!” Oscar groans bumping his forehead against the table.

“Yeah, Oscar, you are a bit peevish. Just a tiny bit, though.” He feels Lando’s hand coming up to pat him on the back, sympathetic. “Come on mate, I’m pretty sure he didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yeah, I mean, we say similar stuff about each other all the time at my workplace.” Alex offers, in an awful attempt at cheering him up.

It doesn’t do any magic at all, because Alex works as a teacher and Oscar has gone to school for enough years to know that teachers are only capable of hating each other for stretching out their hours longer than they should and preferring different students.

Well, unless they’re shagging like Alex and Logan, but they work in two different schools so that should not apply.

“It’s not just that.” Oscar tries to defend himself. Because holding a grudge for something that happened three years ago does sound a bit childish, and he’s not.

The rest of the table looks at him inquisitively, impatiently waiting for an answer, just the sound of the background music filling the silence that Oscar would so much prefer over having to talk about Carlos, of all people.

The worst topic they could choose for a Saturday night out at the pub, really.

“He’s just-“ he makes a vague gesture, hoping that they might understand it easily. Of course, everyone just blinks at him. “I mean, who goes around with only shirts that have his initials stitched on it? Who goes around acting like they know everything and they’re the best at it? And he says that Lando is his best mate, but I don’t see him hanging out with him that often, no? That’s just top dickhead behaviour, if you ask me.”

“Aw, Osc!” Lando exclaims, and in a matter of second, Oscar finds himself with his head caged under Lando’s elbow, the Brit’s hand mussing his hair. “You’re so cute, defending my honour.”

“You never did that for me.” Logan protests, and then more quietly to Alex. “Babe, he never did that for me.”

Alex smiles, patting his back lightly. “Do not worry, Lo, I’ll do it for you.”

“I’m not defending anybody’s honour.” Oscar splutters out, his cheeks growing hot, heart thumping in his chest, wild – a dangerous zone. He slaps Lando’s hands away from his hair, trying to ruffle them to some kind of order, but it’s no use, they’ll never make sense.

Carlos’ hair is always perfectly styled and composed. What a dickhead, indeed.

“I’m just stating the obvious.”

“Still, I can guarantee you that you do not need to worry about that.” Lando assures him, trying to reach back for his head, but Oscar is quicker this time, leaving him to poke Yuki’s cheek with a finger, instead. “He’s got other things to do on Saturday, usually.”

Oscar takes a sip of his beer to cover his snort.

He doesn’t trust Lando’s words, he’s probably just too biased by having been Carlos’ friend for such a long time.

Someone who’s not even married and who earns as much as Carlos does surely should not have that many things to do instead of hanging out with his friends.

But anyway, it’s none of his business. Rather, he should be glad he can at least escape him on Saturday.

“Sure.”

—

On Monday morning, Oscar clocks into work on time, his jacket is completely dry, his hair kind of makes sense and there’s a spring in his step, and he just feels good overall.

He has spent most of his Sunday sitting on the couch binge watching the entire final season of Brooklyn 99 and he’s convinced himself that whatever mind games Carlos might want to play with him, Oscar is stronger and smarter, and he won’t let himself get squashed.

Logan kind of fuelled his confidence, as well, with his usual monologues about the importance of believing in himself and remembering all the sweat and tears he put in to reach the place he’s in now, though Oscar is pretty sure he only comes up with them to exercise for his drama kids.

But the point is that he knows that it’s his job, that it’s his career, and even if he would probably get the promotion either way, he still wants to earn it. If not for Andrea, then for himself.

The fact that it’s his biggest project ever, just motivates him more.

He plops down on his office chair with a smile that must be breaking his face if the way Yuki glances at him curiously from the other side is anything to go by. But he just shrugs it off, playing dumb.

He’s just in a good mood, is that illegal?

“It is if you’re called Oscar Piastri.” Yuki tells him, no hair on his tongue. “You always look like-“ he makes a serious face, his lips closed into straight line, one eyebrow raised, sceptical. Oscar does not look like that, he thinks (he hopes). “Like those statues from Christmas Island.”

“I do not look like that at all.” Oscar glares at him, turning his computer on. “And it’s Easter Island.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

He spends the morning going through Andrea’s instructions over and over again until he can exactly tell the position of every single letter, and then he spends the rest of it making a first draft for a spreadsheet with all the products they will probably need to change a million times.

Carlos does not write him, nor does he come around to ask for him, either, but Oscar doesn’t question it that much. God knows he has his own side-projects, although minor, to care about but he guesses that spending some time to start brainstorming over this new one it’s not entirely a bad idea.

He’ll just email the file Excel to Carlos once it’s done, and then maybe they’ll shortly discuss about it, Oscar will even accept some suggestions because, against all odds, he is ready to work as a team. Besides, his creativity is pretty close to a zero percentage, but he has heard that Carlos knows how to do a mean presentation, and that’s how teams work, right?

Combine your best skills and all that stuff about sharing each other’s strengths. Oscar wouldn’t know about that, really, since he’s always preferred the solitary work, but he doesn’t have that much of a choice right now.

Yuki asks for poke at lunch, and Oscar is a man of his word, so as soon as the clock strikes half past twelve, they’re already out the door chattering about the latest apex legends’ update.

The guy behind the cash register smiles at him sweetly when he pays, and Oscar swears he winks at him as he slides the receipt over the counter, and sure enough when he looks at it there is a phone number scribbled on the paper.

Oscar isn’t exactly interested in dating as of now, but the guy was cute, and it did boost his ego a bit, and it might not be a bad idea to go out with someone that is not his roommate, his roommate’s boyfriend, his coworker and a weird friend from university. Maybe he could even get laid, which doesn’t seem like a bad prospect at all.

It’s just the combination of all these tiny little things that makes him feel better, more confident, almost ready to let himself believe that he could change his mind about Carlos, like Lando has been trying to make him for years, now.

Maybe he could actually reconsider him, even if just by stopping viewing him as a pretentious dickhead.

But Carlos just makes it incredibly difficult, it seems.

Oscar has just started settling back behind his desk when his attention gets caught by the new email in his inbox, that definitely was not there before.

To: oscar.piastri@g... From: carlos.sainz.vasq... Sub: team project

Hi Piastri, attached you will find your part of the project. Please, do not contact me on my lunch breaks, Friday nights and weekends. I will not respond. I sincerely hope you do not need any clarification, but if you do, you can write to the email above. Good work.

[See more]

“You have to be fucking kidding me.” He almost slams his laptop shut, feeling the rage bubbling up inside of him. Logan likes to say that he’s an emotionless human being, Yuki just compared him to a freaking statue, and yet Carlos Sainz is enough to make him doubt himself and his capability to have a decent control of his own emotions.

He inhales deeply, nostrils flaring as he tries to calm himself down. Breath in, and breath out, it’s just the first day of three months.

Which means that it can go even worse, fuck.

“What is it?” Yuki asks, curiously peering over his screen to take a glance.

Oscar had almost completely forgotten about his presence, and he just groans and turns the laptop around, not finding it in himself to explain without cursing one Spanish lineage or two.

“Mh, okay, yes.” Yuki mumbles, nodding understandingly with his chin propped up on his palm.

Oscar can see his eyes moving from one side to the other of the list, a list, of things that Oscar should do, that Carlos decided Oscar should do, just to prove himself once more as the biggest prick Oscar might’ve ever met in his life.

“Well, I don’t see the problem here.”

“You don’t- what?” Oscar splutters out, blinking once, twice. Yuki’s expression doesn’t change, it stays confused, amused even. “Isn’t it obvious? He gave me a list, Yuki, a list.”

“Yes and?” Yuki asks, unsure. “I mean, I would kill to have a teammate who tells me what I have to do. Splitting parts is the worst step for a team project, in my opinion. You should be glad.”

“I should be glad?” Oscar says, he almost feels crazy about it. “Yuki, can’t you see it? He’s doing it in purpose! He probably just decided what parts he didn’t want and gave them to me so I can, like, do his dirty laundry. I am almost 100% sure he’s going to take all the credit after and he just- ugh!”

Yuki looks at him, unimpressed, standing in front of Oscar’s desk like he’s seconds away from giving him a slap on his head. When they’re like this and the height difference is completely reversed, Oscar remembers that Yuki can be incredibly frightening, too.

“Oscar, listen to me.” Yuki says, gentle. Well, not really gentle, because Oscar is pretty sure that Yuki lacks that definition, but something akin to gentleness, surely. “I think you’re a bit stressed out right now, I get it, it’s an important project-“

“My most important project.” Oscar interrupts him. He feels compelled to remind that detail, which he doesn’t find small at all.

It will dictate the rest of his career, his future, his curriculum, his self esteem. He might be exaggerating, but he’s used to take things seriously only when he manages to convince himself that they are, in fact, serious.

But now that he thinks about it, he may just need a change of perspective: maybe having to work alongside Carlos is just a challenge for himself, one last obstacle to overtake before he can finally make all his years of studying and working his back off worth it.

He just needs to impose himself and he needs to show himself and to Carlos that he knows what he’s doing, and that it can easily be a 50/50 kind of work.

Perfectly balanced, yeah.

“- and I mean, anyway, if you’re not happy with whatever he decides, you can just go and talk to the guy.”

“You know what, Yuki?” Oscar says, standing up as he shuts his laptop close, feeling thrilled about the prospect of taking reins between his hands, for once. It must feel amazing, to finally have control over something, and it only makes him want that promotion more. “I think I’m going to give him a little speech about respect.”

“That’s not what I meant, but you do you.” Yuki shrugs before finally going back to his desk, sitting hunched over his screen and probably causing himself twenty different problems to his back.

It’s a spur of the moment, Oscar is not used to get them often, he prefers to be more levelheaded, in a way, more rational, logical.

But Carlos has always managed to get under his skin in a way that he never was able to point out, like he could just crawl inside and gnaw at it and smirk that too full grin of his that some would define as charming, Oscar just finds unappealing.

If he were to admit it, he would probably find the reasons of their mutual grudge behind deeply buried thoughts that Oscar has long since tried to forget about.

Like that time he had been scratching his own wrist with his nails, too long, too uneven, waiting for Lando to give him an ounce of his attention, just for Carlos to get it all with a bat of his eyelashes and a show of his straight teeth.

And Oscar has thought that, well, he did not know how to style his hair and he had always had bunny teeth and he did not post shirtless selfies on his socials, and he did not like to hop from one club to another to spend the time on a Saturday night, so hoping that Lando could turn around and look at him and say ‘Oscar’ all British accented and tongue in the little gap was just- ridiculous.

Rationally, that should not be considered as Carlos’ fault, but Oscar just knows that he knows. He swears he had seen him, winking at Oscar jokingly before taking Lando away by the hand, tilting his head to the side, curious, wicked, and then acting like Oscar wasn’t there, not even trying go engage him into conversations.

At work, it’s quieter, at least.

The only reason why Oscar still hasn’t spilled a hot coffee all over the front of his shirt is because Carlos kind of is his superior, after all, and people would surely almost immediately suspect of him if they were to find a distressed Carlos Sainz in sight.

But they still work in different sections, and they never have to cross paths unless they happen to be in the same elevator at the same time, or by the same coffee machine at the same time. They never make small talks, sometimes Carlos just glances at him and nods his head and makes a half assed comment about his commitments for the week like he’s someone too important to be around Oscar.

And Oscar wants to strangle him or scoff at him and give him a piece of his mind, but he does not, because he’s rational and levelheaded.

On top of that, the inexperienced comment and the lack of apology thereof does still sting, though he’ll never admit it.

The upper floor is a little bit nicer than the one his and Yuki’s office is, with longer corridors and opaque glass doors and plants that are actually alive.

Well, he and Yuki had tried to keep one between their desks, but the attempt had failed after they had realised they had forgotten watering it for four weeks straight. But at least they had tried.

Oscar doesn’t really think about what he’s going to say when he pushes the door open, nor does he when he strides into the office, basically uninvited.

And then when he finally thinks about it, it’s just to remain utterly speechless at the sight of Charles half slumped down on the little couch in the corner, scrolling away on his phone.

“Hi Oscar.” Charles says, enthusiastic as all the other times he and Oscar have interacted in the past. Oscar likes him, even though he can’t help but feel slightly intimidated by his attractiveness, but Charles has always been nice to him and when he goes out with them at the pub, he’s always asking Oscar about his day and appearing actually interested about it.

Which doesn’t explain why he would be friends with such a douchebag like Carlos, but it’s not like it’s any of his business.

“Hi Charles.” Oscar replies, unsurely taking a step forward. It doesn’t change the aspect of the situation, of course, what is supposed to be Carlos’ office chair is still as empty as the first time he laid eyes on it. “Am I in the wrong place?”

“Were you looking for Carlos?” Charles asks with a strange lilt to his voice, one that is not just from his accent, Oscar can tell.

“Uh, yes?”

“Then yes you are in the right place.” Charles concludes. “But at the wrong time, he’s out for his lunch break.”

Oscar checks his watch, then he checks it another time just to be sure. “But lunch break ended fift- twenty minutes ago.”

“Yeah, but he has to do other things, so he asked for a later lunch break.”

A later lunch break.

What kind of immense prick asks for a different lunch break than all the other employees? Who does Carlos think he is?

Oscar sincerely thinks he has never met someone as full of himself as Carlos in his life, not even that one guy at his high school that went around claiming to be able to get every single girl in his bed.

Which Oscar knew for sure was a big load of bullshit because he had watched Lauren Smith reject him at their final year’s party, and Oscar had given him a drunken blowjob in a bathroom on the same night.

And still, Carlos managed to top that off.

“Alright.” Oscar says calmly. “Then I guess I can come back later.” He finishes, already turning around to get out of this office as soon as possible and go back to lament on Yuki.

But Charles doesn’t seem to be of the same opinion, clearing his throat to get his attention back on him. “Uh, we will be in a meeting later.” He says sheepishly, and then adding, “I’m sorry I didn’t know you needed him so soon.”

It’s not Charles’ fault that Carlos is a douchebag, really, and Oscar is not that immature to act like one. “Do not worry, I will come back tomorrow, then.” One deep breath, in and out. “Thanks Charles, I’ll see you around.”

“Bye Oscar!” Charles waves at him, back to his enthusiastic self.

Oscar can’t share even an ounce of that same giddiness, right now, so he just closes the door behind himself and curses the name tag on it, flipping the golden plate off.

And then once again before getting inside the elevatore.

It’s cathartic enough.

To: carlos.sainz.vasq... From: oscar.piastri@g... Re: team project Sub: adjustments

Hi Sainz, I was not able to find you and I would like to discuss the attachment of your last email. As it is a team project, I think that we should work, in fact, as team, unless you might’ve missed Andrea’s directives, though I am pretty sure you were sitting next to me. I sincerely hope you do not need any clarification on that. Good rest of the day.

To: oscar.piastri@g... From: carlos.sainz.vasq... Re: adjustments Sub: appointment

Hi Piastri, I guess I can concede you a talk face to face over the matter. You can meet me in my office tomorrow at half past ten. Do not be late.

To: carlos.sainz.vasq... From: oscar.piastri@g... Re: appointment

I won’t.

#carcar #carloscar #oscarlos #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #oscar piastri #my fic #ao3 fic #formula 1 rpf #lando norris #charles leclerc #yuki tsunoda #alex albon #logan sargeant

54 notes · View notes

armpirate · 3 days

Text

Anti-romantic || JJk | Ch. 18

Pairings: Boxer!Jungkook x fem!reader || Enemies to lovers, neighbors

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, curse, illegal boxing, violence

Warnings: fuckboy!Jungkook x reader, smut, dirty talk, curse, mention of tarot and fate

Summary: Jungkook had always been carefree when it came to love. He always believed he was worth sharing himself with everyone, and thought it was selfish of him to ever think of keeping himself exclusive to just one person.

And maybe that was exactly what got him into the big problem he was in.

A curse that kept him away from love didn't seem an issue for him. The fact that his ex-girlfriend thought he'd be affected by the idea of the girls he slept with running away from him after sex was ridiculous. She actually did him a favor, and took a burden away from him.

At least that was what he thought at first.

He had never found himself thinking of the possibility of repeating with neither of his hook ups, because they disappeared before he was able to even think about it. But when he makes the mistake of sleeping with the sexy neighbor that lives in front of him, he finds himself hoping to get the chance for a second round every time their paths cross.

Y/n hated him the second he set foot inside the building by the way he started making her life a miserable mess for no reason. Sleeping with him was a big mistake she wasn't thinking of repeating. At least not until he came up with the excuse that she rejected him for a curse. Not only she thought he was annoying, but she was also convinced he was crazy.

There was no way she could take him seriously.

Aprox. time of reading: 16 minutes

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

While she was rinsing her hair, Y/n could only hope that canary yellow was gone from her hair. It took her a lot of showering, spending a lot of money on hair dyes, and a big big self love not to let the murmuring and giggles get to her when she was forced to go to work looking like that.

It didn't matter how much she tried to hide that ugly hair color under a beanie, it came out somehow. All the time.

As she left the towel on the toilet, she wondered out loud how that tint got to her shampoo. And why did it have Jungkook's name written all over it. Confronting him about it was useless, he'd deny it. But at the same time he made sure she knew it was him with his awful jokes and that dumb smirk she'd love to erase.

He crossed a line that day.

She was surprised when she found him at her door, with one hand placed on the right side of her door frame while he waited for her to show up in front of him. Her eyes rolled just imagining what he could be there for, making her sigh so loud that he was able to hear it from the other side.

And that sound, for some reason, created some type of satisfaction in his system, getting exactly what he expected from her.

—What do you want? —she placed her head against her door.

—I need to speak to you, face to face —his tone sounded serious, as he tried to keep his face away from the peephole.

—If you're looking for a victim for your failed dream to become a hairstylist, I'm not home today.

—But I'm speaking to you.

—You're speaking to my answerphone, not me.

—Whatever —he threw his head back, allowing her to see his exposed neck—. I think we should be mature enough, and talk about this topic while looking at each other. There's something I really need to tell you, and I can only do it if you open the door for me.

While she wanted to ignore what he was saying, it made her curious to know what was that serious issue they needed to discuss, and that clearly had nothing to do with the new hair that only lasted a few days. As she looked back through the peephole, she could see his eye becoming bigger than the rest of his head as he approached it, attempting to look through it as well with no luck.

She had nothing to lose. Maybe he was there to apologize for what he did, maybe that was the last attempt to become a functional adult, who's able to see past his mistakes and take accountability for the things he had done wrong.

Y/n completely ignored his victorious smirk when she first opened her door, confronting him for the first time that morning after she managed to get back to her cold hair color that she never wanted to change.

—Oh —he pointed up at her hair—, I'll miss the yellow.

—Sure you will —those words went through her teeth like daggers—. What did you want? I'm busy.

—It's Saturday.

—So? I'm busy.

Actually, she wasn't. The most difficult thing was dealing with her hair, and she already got it done.

But Jungkook didn't need to know that.

—Busy with sitting around at home doing nothing?

—Exactly.

—Okay then... I'll be quick —he shrugged—. I know we've had a lot of ups and downs, I know I'vee made it difficult for you to live here for the past month and a half. But I think we should try to grow closer as neighbors, we should actually stick together. We see each other more than we see our families, right? —instead of receiving the response he expected, Y/n simply rolled her eyes— We shouldn't be fighting all the time. We actually should do something to improve our relationship. And what's better than trusting each other?

It did look like an apology. Or at least an attempt of truce.

—Yeah, I agree —she nodded.

—Fine —he took her wrist, moving her hand to him—. Somebody will come to repair the air conditioner, but I need to go to work. And since you're here doing nothing, you could open the door for them. Thanks —he quickly informed, leaving his keys in her hand.

Y/n had no time to oppose that responsibility, which she clearly didn't want to have, because Jungkook sprinted towards the stairs before she could even realize what he had said. The keys were still lying in her palm, while she looked at the curve Jungkook disappeared in the fastest she had ever seen him.

At first she was confused, annoyed even. She couldn't wrap her head around the fact that Jungkook had the audacity to ask her for a favor after he sneaked in her house, acting like her boyfriend -which also led to her mother still being hung up on it, despite of how many times she tried to deny it-, and tinted her hair in the most awful hair color to exist. She wasn't able to see quite the good part of that until the technician spilled a comment that had her brain thinking.

—He's lucky to have a neighbor he can trust. I know the most innocent thing mine would do is steal the microwave.

She had spent those days trying to think of a way to get back at Jungkook, her mind wasn't as evil to think of something straight away, but being inside his house gave her a whole new perspective.

Cutting the optical fiber so he couldn't watch his football matches that had her rolling her eyes? Tinting his laundry in an ugly color to throw to waste all of his clothes? If he had a contact book, she could even call one of his hook ups so he'd find her there when he came back.

There were so many choices that would work so perfectly...

Two knocks on the door interrupted her evil plan making, having her turning on her tracks towards the door to find a woman that had some features that resembled Jungkook's. She couldn't put it past him that he was so self-centered that he was turned on by hooking up with someone that looked like the female version of himself.

—Oh, I might've got it wrong.

—Depends on who you're looking for —Y/n interrupted her.

—Jungkook lives here?

—Yeah, but he isn't home —she tried to explain—. He's off for work —and considering it was afternoon already, he probably would take three more hours to come back—, but he won't take too long. Can I ask who's looking for him? Are you another...?

—I'm his mother.

Whatever attempt to make him look like a serial cheater got stuck in her throat with that answer, suddenly feeling bad at putting that poor woman through something as uncomfortable as that.

It was a logical answer, but with Jungkook it was better not to expect the expected.

They looked so alike in some ways, but they looked so different in others. That lady looked elegant, Y/n could even bet her bag cost one month of rent; while Jungkook was... Jungkook.

—You must be his girlfriend?

—Yeah, yeah —she nodded—. That's why I'm here, because we're living together.

Even if the idea of seeing Jungkook settling with someone was too far-fetched.

—You look so sweet —she genuinely mentioned—. Could you tell him I came?

—He doesn't know you are going to be here? —Y/n frowned, confused.

—Difficult if he doesn't pick up my calls —her laugh was nervous, grimacing at the end—. I'll come back another day.

So he was the type to completely ignore his parents...

And that gave her the brightest idea she had in the last few days.

—Why don't you wait for him here? —Y/n suggested.

—I don't think it'll be a good idea.

—Don't be stupid. I mean... —she giggled, insisting on having her step inside his house— You already came all the way here, you can't leave where you came from. Come in, please.

As she closed the door behind her, she couldn't stop imagining Jungkook's face when he saw his mother there.

—Do you want to go for a beer today? —Jimin suggested, palming his shoulder from behind.

Jungkook didn't bother looking up, he knew exactly what facial expression his friend had on his face to try to convince him.

—I pass —he shook his head—. Y/n had the key to my apartment, and I think it'll be testing fate too much.

—Who in their sane mind would give his keys to the person who wants revenge on them?

—Why did you sound like a narrator of one of those lame rom-coms trailers?

—Say whatever you want, but I'm not the one going back to a house on fire —Jimin walked back.

—She wouldn't set it on fire —he denied, chuckling with it—. She'd burn her house as well if she did it. Also that's too brutal to be Y/n's idea. Good thing is I don't have anything at home that could hurt me to see it destroyed.

—Only for saying that, I hope she had broken everything at her reach.

—One thing about my neighbor: she isn't made for being vile and sneaky —Jungkook assured his friend—. That's why it's so fun to mess with her: I get entertainment, knowing it won't hurt too bad.

—Karma will bite your ass —Jimins squinted his eyes—. And I'm not hoping for it, I'm telling you it will.

—If karma is the artistic name of a new Victoria Secret's model, she can bite wherever she wants.

—You're disgusting —Jimin commented, shortly before stepping outside the office.

Every day in the gym was the same for him: he arrived early in the morning, hid inside the office until it was time for the few training sessions he had scheduled, he trained himself for a bit, and hid back inside in the office until it was the time to close the establishment.

That was his life.

Right when he was picking up the few things some of the people that went there left, like empty water bottles or those boxing bandages, he heard the door opening again.

—We're closed —he sighed, not turning to the person who had just stepped inside the dark place—. Come back tomorrow.

—Are you Jeon Jungkook?

He smirked at the mention of his name by a deep male voice, thinking he'd be the one in the winning end if he just pumped his chest a bit and showed that confident persona he loved showing off to intimidate others.

—Depends on who's asking —he sighed, finally getting up from the floor.

—Alessandro Rossi.

When he turned around, he saw a tall bald man, that was twice his size, looking at him attentively, while the youngest man behind him -and that was staring at everything going on from afar- just was a witness of the conversation.

Jungkook's blood went cold at the mention of that name, knowing that it'd bring no good.

—Wow, is he finally honoring me by acknowledging my gym? Look, I am a bit disappointed it took him so long after all these years, but you can tell him I forgive him. I can...

He wasn't able to say anything else, before his words were cut by a sudden punch to his jaw that made him instantly dizzy. Shaking his head to get some control of his body back, he saw the bald man rolling up the sleeves of his black sweater, stepping closer to him.

—Oh, he does know you.

Jungkook blocked his right hook, attempting to punch back. And he probably would've succeeded if that bully hadn't come with his little friend, who stopped him before he was able to defend himself, finding his arm under his grip, so the other could be able to beat him up as he pleased.

He lost count of all the hits he received, every punch hurt less with his body going numb slowly, only able to keep standing by the way the younger man was holding him from behind.

Jungkook was used to the pain of the punches after so many fights, but it was so different after not being able to fight back, losing all control of his body when they both just stopped messing with his body as they let him fall to the ground heavily. His sight was blurry, only able to distinguish some silhouettes, as he felt the blood dripping from his face.

—Next time you try to get on mister Rossi's business, or pretend to stop a fight, we'll burn this mousetrap with you inside.

He wasn't able to do two plus two right away, before his brain had to process the kick straight at his mouth and that made his body fall flat back on the floor. Their steps sounded heavy, echoed in his head as he tried to stare at the ceiling among the darkness while recovering his breath.

He lost count of how much time he spent in that same position. Actually, he didn't even know how he managed to close the gym and walk to his motorbike, losing every attempt of putting the helmet on, before he started the engine and drove to his place.

The crashing sound of his motorbike against the pavement as he tried to park it next to the entrance to his building would've hurted him any other day, but that day he was too focused on standing on his feet without losing his balance.

It had been a long while since he saw himself like that. Jungkook hadn't been in such a low state since he started gaining experience in those boxing parties, and even then his body was aching to the point that he felt pain at the mere move of his leg to take one step.

His body wobbled, forcing him to reach his hand to the wide door frame so he wouldn't fall. And he didn't try to start walking again until he breathed deeply, considering whether to take the step not to annoy Y/n, or take the lift to give his body a rest.

—She'll come at me for any other reason, anyway —he thought, dragging his body to the big metallic box.

The lift slightly trembled as Jungkook rested his body against one of the walls, quietly moaning to press the button that'd take to his floor.

Hearing her voice inside his apartment was reassuring somehow, making him feel like at least he'd be back to someone it didn't bother him to see. At least he'd be able to tease her a bit, and feel entertained before he cried himself to sleep.

But her voice was suddenly followed by a different one. And he couldn't recognize it. It sounded muffled due to the walls, but it sounded familiar.

He swore he'd kill Y/n if she had allowed in one of his hook ups after she came looking for him, which was something that had never happened before.

As he opened the door, and stepped inside his house to a clearer voice, he tried to gain some stability back to confront the woman Y/n was hanging out with. He completely omitted the panic in her face, or how quickly she asked what happened. His rage was only centered at one person that had no business to do there.

Seeing Y/n in that state, barely able to hold on and open his eyes to look at them, with his face and clothes covered with blood, instantly made her expect the worst, sprinting towards him to help him out however she was able to.

—What are you doing here? —he grunted with a raspy voice.

At first, she thought he was talking to her, forcing her to look up at his face as she tried to hook his arm around her shoulder. Although it wasn't her. He was furious, dedicating that woman a look that she had never seen before. It was like he was ready to bark everything that was going through his head.

—Let's talk about it later —his mother tried to get him to calm down—. Let me h...

As soon as she tried to land a hand on his other arm to help Y/n, Jungkook moved it away abruptly, also making Y/n move her hands away and almost causing her to lose her balance.

—I want nothing from you. Wasn't it clear all the times I've told you the same? —he hoarsed— I don't want you here, and I don't care why you came looking for me. Did you run out of money now? That's what you want? Huh? Because I have nothing for you. Nothing. And I don't want to see you again, I don't want to get anything from you.

—Jungkook... —Y/n tried to stop him.

—I told you already: you're dead to me. So do exactly the same thing you've been doing all this time, and disappear.

Y/n gulped thick as she saw the tension between them, seeing the guilt and pain in his mother's face, and the rage and annoyance on his. She couldn't understand what the older woman mumbled as she walked past them with a sad expression. Her apology probed on her lips, but never coming with a sound.

—I don't want you here either —Jungkook turned to Y/n.

—I don't want to be here either —she answered back, turning completely to him—. But I'm not going to leave you like this.

—What are you going to do? Piss me off until my face doesn't look like this? You've done enough already.

—Well, I don't care —she shrugged.

When his mother commented how she had a small fall out with her son, Y/n thought it was a small fight that was meaningless, she couldn't imagine Jungkook reacting that way.

—You make me pay attention to your place, because you think I'm your personal portress, and now you want me to leave? —Y/n loudly scoffed— Sit on that damned couch, unless you want me to shower you up with antiseptic.

He could've insisted, Jungkook knew that if only he had told her again, she probably would've given in. But instead, he followed her guidance, huffing while he walked to his couch, knowing that the worst part was yet to come.

And he was right.

His body squirmed every time she moved the gauze over one of the wounds on his face, clenching his teeth together to keep the moans he was dying to let out to himself.

—You won't ask how this happened?

Knowing Y/n, it was strange she didn't even attempt to ask. She was surprised by how he looked, but not about why it happened.

—Knowing your history, it was a matter of time until this happened —her comment almost made him laugh.

If he wasn't wrong, it was likely that those bullies came to him because of how he got in between Y/n's fight a few weeks back. It was better not to let her know.

—...sorry —she muttered.

—What was that? —Jungkook opened his eyes to look at her.

—Nothing.

—You said something.

—I just said —she mentioned, almost overlapping with his words— that I'm sorry. I didn't know you had such a bad relationship with your mother.

She thought it was nothing bigger than a dumb fight, she couldn't imagine it was as big as serious as Jungkook showed.

He didn't answer back, he didn't think it was needed. But seeing her so serious, and disappointed, pushed a button that got him to speak. He didn't have to explain himself, or the situation, but he felt it was right to do so.

—She cheated on my father —he mentioned—. It was years ago, but I just can't forgive her —as he spoke, her hands moved away from his face and dropped to her lap—. She left, and she didn't care about what she left behind. My dad went through hell, he almost lost his house after he got fired from his workplace, because the quality in his job also got affected because of the situation. I got my ass beaten up countless times just to earn some extra money to pay the bills, because my job wasn't enough to pay half of the things. Not once she cared about all that, and now she wants to act like nothing happened...

Y/n didn't know what to do, or say. She just looked at him attentively, surprised by that new side of him. She was so used to bickering with him, or seeing him being a pay in the ass, that that new side of him felt like a completely different person.

—I know how you feel.

Before she was able to elaborate on her words, Jungkook's scoff interrupted her.

—And you remind me a lot of my brother —she nervously smiled.

—He also thought you were annoying?

—He also did illegal fights to earn money when there was no other choice —she quickly shut down his attempt to joke around.

His smirk dropped with her answer, finally finding some sense into what her mother asked her when she met him.

—My dad also left, without saying a thing —she started—. He left a lot of unpaid bills and debts, my mother suffered depression and wasn't able to work. Me and my brother tried to work, but our salaries just covered a few things. That's how he started, until he died in one of those fights.

—That's why you're so stubborn about the article?

—If the only thing I got from it was recognition, I would've published it already —she commented—. I want to see all of those people exposed, and I want to find the person that put my brother into that fight —she threw the gauze on the table.

—Why didn't you tell me?

—Did I have to? —she lifted her eyebrow— You didn't need to know more than the fact that it was going to be written.

—Well, it'd have changed a lot of things.

—You'd have helped me? Like you're thinking of now? —she cut him off— Forget it. I don't want your help anymore.

—Y/n, I only said it because it's dangerous.

—And I know —she nodded.

She started picking up her things, getting up from the couch before she started heading towards the door.

—Put a lot of ice everywhere. Or not. I don't care.

Suddenly, a lot of things made sense for Jungkook. She was so used to healing that type of wounds, she was so familiar with that dark environment, that he should have known it went further than just being a good professional passionate about her work.

She lived all of that up close. She knew all the consequences and still went for it.

Taglist: @jk97bam @ttanniett

35 notes · View notes

decafdoodlez · 2 days

Text

RenRina NSFW Headcanons/Dynamics

A short list of self-indulgent NSFW headcanons and dynamics for my TPoF OC and Fox, though I think some of these could be applicable to Fox x Reader scenarios. ❤️‍🩹

a/n: I am cringe™️, but I am free (part 2), but a little spicier~🌶️ To be honest, I’ve drawn plenty of NSFW, but I’ve never actually written it, so apologies if anything sounds a little disjointed, this is my first time writing anything remotely raunchy! (´｡• ᵕ •｡`)

word count: 1.1k

warnings/tags: NSFW | written with AFAB OC x Canon in mind, captive/captor themes, toxic dynamic, power imbalance, age difference (both adults are 25+), just lots of fucking headcanons

Marina was a virgin before meeting Fox. Marina had only ever focused on furthering her career, so relationships and sex (or lack thereof) were very much the lowest on her list of priorities in life. (She would’ve been content e-fucking anime boys for the rest of her life, lmao)

In their second livestream, Fox states that it doesn’t matter to him one way or another if she’s a virgin or just inexperienced, though he can’t help but find it adorable seeing Marina fumble her way through and gagging while giving him a blowjob, or her legs giving out and becoming Jell-O immediately from trying to bounce up and down on his knotted member.

Marina isn’t completely clueless about sex, having played 18+ otome hentai games, but putting what she learns in theory from these games into practice is another story. Fox lavishes in her sweet, sweet ignorance, and ever so “lovingly” teaches her everything he knows to get the two of them to the peak of ecstasy.

Despite being a sadist, Fox isn’t only interested in getting himself off. Fox also derives pleasure from getting Marina off. Seeing her go from the prim and proper picture of untouched innocence into a broken, crying, and filthy whore for him and him alone makes his cock twitch at just the thought of it.

Fox at his core is a versatile switch, enjoying roles as dominant or submissive depending on his partner, but because of Marina’s inexperience and role as “pet,” he performs a dominant top role in the bedroom. Though, he does encourage (force) Marina to top him, just to see her buckle under the pressure of having to perform well enough for him as she grinds her hips against his.

Though he has retired Marina from gore torture streams, he still fucks her on camera occasionally, without going too extreme on her in terms of physical pain with the requests that roll in from the chat. These streams are not as popular as his snuff streams, but they still hold an audience of devoted Fox fans who just enjoy watching their favorite furry DILF fuck pretty and sweet little pets.

Fox is not a tit or ass man, to him, they both have their merits. BUT if he had to choose, his preference is for whichever part of his partner is larger, so in this case, Marina’s breasts are his favorite part of her body.

Speaking of Marina’s breasts, her large nipples are quite sensitive and she gains pleasure from them being teased and toyed with. Fox takes advantage of this fact, and often finds himself suckling on her tits and leaving bleeding marks on her areolas like a leech. >:3

Marina’s bust size is 34F, and Fox will never let her get a reduction. But conversely, he doesn’t need her to get an augmentation either; he likes her big naturals just the way they are.

Fox’s cock is an average length at 5 inches from tip to knot, and 6.25 inches from tip to base. The stretch from his knot is absolutely delicious.

Fox’s pubic hair is a thick white fur that trails down from his navel to the base of his shaft. His fur also cutely runs from his lower back into his ass crack, to around his hole and trailing up to his taint and balls. uwu

Fox’s nicknames for Marina as he fucks her are a far cry from the sweet names he usually purrs out for her. Some of his more raunchy favorites are “Fuck doll,” “breeding bitch,” “fuck bunny,” “cum slut,” and “cocksleeve.” His more standard nicknames are “pet,” “naughty little girl/slut/whore,” “crybaby,” “needy little baby,” “baby/babydoll,” and “my (little) girl/baby.”

Though Fox enjoys fucking as a whole, his favorite position would have to be doggy or prone. (Shocker /s) Having one arm pulled back and her face pressed into the surface she’s being bent over is the most intoxicating position for him. Seeing his cock go in and out of her puffy and slick folds while he has a firm handle on her round and reddened ass as she has no way of escaping him pounding into her drives him animalistic.

Marina’s favorite position is missionary. It’s a bit on the safe side and a more standard position, but it makes her feel loved when Fox looks her in the eyes as he slams his cock into her needy hole and his balls slap against her ass.

Missionary may not be Fox’s favorite position, but he does enjoy how romantic it can be. Plus, he gets to watch her breasts flop around rhythmically as he pounds into her.

Fucking with Fox can go one of two ways, fast & rough/primal, or soft & slow/passionate. It’s all dependent on how he’s feeling. He’s got beastly and feral qualities for sure, but at his core, he is a bit of a romantic, and likes to display that side of himself on occasion.

Despite his age, Fox has better stamina than one could expect for a man pushing 50. He can keep a steady stroke pace, and usually cum twice or three times in a fuck session.

Marina on the other hand taps out quite easily, and whines and cries as she convulses from the overstimulation, while Fox continues to pump in and out of her, chasing his own high.

Fox is not averse to having Marina pass out as he fucks her, but he will smack her face a bit to wake her up if he sees her falling unconscious. He’d just prefer if she’d stay awake as he ruins her. He wants her to remember the feeling of every inch of his cock and how it stretches her out…and unfortunately, “you can’t do that while sleeping, darling.” uwu

Fox gets very excited when hearing Marina’s shrill whimpers and whines. With each mewl that leaves her pretty little lips, his tail thumps harder and faster, and his grip on her supple flesh becomes tighter and rougher.

Fox has taught Marina how to squirt. (Or fucked her well enough to squirt, rather.) The first time she squirted was while he was eating her out, sucking and nibbling on her clit until the last bit of composure inside of her just snapped. After coating his face in her fluids, Marina thoroughly apologized to Fox, thinking she had done something wrong and off-putting by making a mess, ultimately thinking she would be punished for it. However, Fox with a predatory gaze licked his lips then continued to work away to Marina’s sensitive clit, over-stimulating her further to the point of her releasing her juices again and again as she shrieked in the pain derived from the pleasure.

a/n: This list was a bit all over the place, but I feel like I could go on and on, haha. I could certainly do a part two to this! I think I may want to pick a kink and do a one shot for my next writing though. I want to play around with dialogue, hehe. Thank you for reading!~ ❤️‍🩹

#my writing #ren hana #the price of flesh #tpof fox #tpof #boyfriend to death #btd ren #tpof ren #fox x reader #fox x oc #tpof fox x reader #renrina #fox x mc #ren x reader

46 notes · View notes

fandoomrants · 2 days

Text

Some personal Marauders era hcs and thoughts.

I don't aim to offend anyone and that's just a bunch of canon-related stuff I think.:

The Marauders:

-Peter WAS their friend. That's what made it even more hurtful in the end. But like, he was actively their friend, who they loved and trusted. However, I believe he was also underestimated, especially by Sirius. And not because he didn't consider him a friend, but because he didn't consider he could turn their backs on them because he admired them too much and wasn't a capable and therefore dangerous person.

-On the contrary, the reason Sirius thought Remus was the spy wasn't because he was a werewolf. It was because he knew he's capable and could take care of himself, and could keep a secret. But he was more likely to actually do something out of his own will.

-Remus saw Harry for the first time on the train when he was 13. He never saw him as a baby because he was already estranged from his friends.

-Remus stepped aside because he realised he couldn't have the lives most of his friends had, and didn't want to be a burden, or threat.

-The Prank was nasty but it wasn't that big of a deal. Of course Remus was angry at Sirius but I believe they all were. Yet it was just a stupid thing he did as a child (sorry,l but 15-16yos are the dumbest years of someone's life decison-wise, imo and that's talking both from experience and observation) and he was very much aware it wasn't in order to hurt and expose him as a werewolf.

The girls:

-Marlene was probably around the Marauders' age and attended Hogwarts with them because Lily mentions her in her letter to Sirius. However, there's a chance that they just got close because of the Order.

-Dorcas was, as I've seen many people hc, perhaps much older than them, however. I personally don't think it was a common thing for someone to leave Hogwarts and immediately join the Order. Or even if they did that because all the help was appreciated, they weren't such a big threat, no matter how good wizards and witches they were. However, the little we know about her is that Voldemort dealt with her personally. He dealt with James and Lily personally (*sob*) in order to get to Harry but that's because of the prophecy. She must have been a real pain in the .... for him to want to do it personally, and I think this means she was someone with a lot of experience.

-Lily didn't hate James and they weren't enemies to lovers but more of strangers to lovers. Yeah, she got irritated by him and the rest mistreating Snape who was her friend but this doesn't mean she hated him, she disliked him. (Also, for enemies to lovers, it's supposed to be from both sides and he didn't dislike her, quite the contrary.)

-Lily wasn't popular. I'm pretty sure at Hogwarts everyone knows each other because you get to live with these people, more or less, even if you're not the same year or house, but I don't think she was popular.

The Slytherin skittles:

-Regulus was probably a Capricorn. That's more about the fanon interpretation but also the little we know about him?? That note in the locket?? I know lots of Capricorns. If someone's gonna do it, it's a Capricorn.

-Same as Dorcas, Evan was probably also much older than the rest. Moody was an experienced auror. Only someone who is also experienced and powerful can match him in a duel.

-Barty wasn't insane before Azkaban.

-Barty wasn't a good person and what he did was bad but he wasn't some psychopath without emotions, he loved his mother. His father is the one who was mostly responsible for him becoming who he is. Yet he's not considered "bad" because he wasn't a Death Eater.

-Regulus became a Death Eater completely willingly. He believed in Voldemort's ideas. Something changed later but he believed them at first and he wasn't forced by his parents, they weren't ones and their whole deal came for the love of purity, not power, he didn't do it in order to get closer to Voldemort and discover the Horcrux thing, or anything like that.

-These characters are interesting and cool, I love reading about them but I'm not apologising their actions and disregarding the fact they were villains in the end, redempted or not.

General thoughts about other characters and things:

-Alice and Frank were older than the Potters. At one point I believed they were the same age but the more I grow up, the more I get to realise that James and Lily were really young when they had Harry and that was most likely not the case with most.

-Also, I think this is pretty much confirmed, Alice and Frank got tortured and lost their sanity after Voldemort disappeared. On that topic, there's a chance Bellatrix and some of Voldemort's most loyal supporters might have had at least a slight idea that Neville could have been the Chosen one. Or at least they knew something about Alice and Frank.

-Snape was genuinely not a nice guy. We see a moment in which the Marauders are jerks to him but this doesn't mean he was a victim of their abuse all the time, and hadn't done anything wrong. The spell James uses is one Snape invents, and it was something Remus says was popular and done all the time so Snape might have been the one who used it first on someone. He also called Lily "mudblood" because he was angry but she was his friend that tried to protect him. Just because he loved her doesn't excuse him. In fact, it makes it worse. Back to the Sirius didn't tell him about Remus to hurt Remus thing. Well, here Snape did it with the purpose of hurting Lily.

-James wouldn't have liked Regulus, no matter of either of them's sexuality, and vise versa. And it all comes to Sirius. We have no canon mentions on Sirius and Regulus's relationship during Hogwarts but I think they were estranged. And James was a very good and loyal friend, he wouldn't have went to his best friend's brother knowing what Sirius thought of his family and his relationship with them. Same way, Regulus wouldn't have had anything to do with his outcast's brother best friend.

-I genuinely don't think they were all queer. Like, that was the 70ies and it wasn't spread and accepted. Even if they were, they would have been in the closet.

That's it for now. Some of these are based on literal facts from the books and some are personal opinions. Again, this is in no way aimed to offend anyone's opinion, or ships. I do enjoy reading about these characters, I ship most ships, I don't mind the rest. That's just my opinion canon-wise. Also, I might not remember some things well so excuse me if there's evidence against something I said in canon.

#hp meta #hp #marauders #marauders era #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #peter pettigrew #lily evans #dorcas meadowes #marlene mckinnon #regulus black #barty crouch jr #evan rosier #severus snape #the slytherin skittles #the marauders

20 notes · View notes

tyrantisterror · 2 days

Note

Who are your top ten favorite sympathetic villains in fiction?

See, that's the kind of question you just can't answer on this site in normal conditions. This is tumblr, the place where if you think a villain from any media that people have heard of is sympathetic, there will be an incredibly vocal contingent of moral puritans who will flock to your proverbial door to scream at you for being a fascist and threaten you with torches, pitchfork, and a good ol' stake to burn you on. Doesn't matter what media the villain is from or how fantastical or mundane their crimes are - if you try to argue someone deemed bad by the mob is actually morally complex, they will force you to walk the scaffold of the gallows so they can plunder your real estate when you're buried in the unmarked grave reserved for heathens and heretics.

Hell, it's not just strangers on here you have to worry about this with, either. When I first read this question a few characters who affected me deeply came to mind immediately, and for each one I could pinpoint at least one person who follows my blog that would not hesitate for a moment to post a several paragraph screed in a reblog of this ask telling me why that character is actually Objectively Worse Than Hitler, and that I'm a fascist if I continue to like them. This is not a safe space to sympathize with villains. Lust after them, sure, but not to sympathize with them.

But! I have thought of a work around. Obviously, any media with a fandom isn't safe - unless that media is so obscure, so barely known, that its fandom can probably be counted on two hands. Something where the fan count can't reach above the double digits, and in all likelyhood is less than fifty at the most generous estimation. And it just so happens I can think of AT LEAST ten sympathetic villains from works of media I dearly, genuinely love - love them so much it's as if they were my own children, even - that are at this level of obscurity, and likely to remain so for as long as I live. So here are my

TEN FAVORITE SYMPATHETIC VILLAINS FROM WORKS OF MEDIA SO OBSCURE THAT I CAN GUARANTEE NOBODY ON EARTH WILL EVER SEARCH FOR THEM ON TUMBLR AND PROCEED TO SCREAM AT ME FOR LIKING THEM!

10. MechaTyrantis from The Atomic Time of Monsters by William Cope

Appearing in William Cope's stunning kaiju period piece novel series The Atomic Time of Monsters, MechaTyrantis takes the genre trope of a mechanical doppelganger kaiju and gives it a few new twists. We actually meet MechaTyrantis as a purely flesh and blood creature first, where he is presented as a natural rival for the main kaiju character, Tyrantis, because they are both males of the same species vying for the attention of the sole female of their kind that they've found. MT loses the courtship fight to Tyrantis, and nurses a grudge about it, eventually luring Tyrantis into a trap to try and kill him. In the grand tradition of villains, his evil plot backfires and hurts him more than his intended victim, leaving him crippled and comatose in a rock slide.

This is where the pathos comes in, for as nasty as MT is, the human villains who excavate his unconscious form from the rocks are a lot worse, harvesting him for parts to make a cyborg war machine. Intended to be nothing more than a wetware PC, MechaTyrantis's animal brain lies dormant for much of the time he's being piloted, but sporadically awakens when given proper stimuli - at which point we get treated to the horror of what was done to him, and how his animal mind struggles to understand the surge of inputs from both his machine body parts and the human trying to pilot them. His existence is, bluntly, a nightmare, and one that makes MechaTyrantis continue to lash out at the world with horrifying results.

Yet as nasty as he was before and after his alteration, it's clear he doesn't deserve a fate this wretched, and author William Cope obviously agrees with me, as MechaTyrantis does stumble his way into a redemption of sorts, albeit by suffering a great deal of pain and humiliation before he can reach the epiphany he needs.

9. Promythigor from The Atomic Time of Monsters by William Cope

One of the last villains introduced in The Atomic Time of Monsters Series (at least so far - while there are only two volumes at the time of this writing, esteemed author William Cope has noted several times on social media that he intends to write more someday down the line), Promythigor has less screentime than most of his fellow bad guys, but he makes it count. Essentially King Kong if he both had firebending powers and a dangerous case of pyromania, Promythigor isn't outright malicious so much as lethally foolhardy and careless with his fire powers, which brings him into conflict with pretty much ever living being he encounters.

Yet, like MechaTyrantis, there's pathos to him, as he too is a horrible science experiment created by humans who neither thought of nor cared about the psychological state of the supernatural animals they were exploiting. There's almost an innocence to Promythigor as he lashes out, and for all the trouble he causes with his mischief it's clear he doesn't really understand how much harm he's doing. One thinks he could sort himself out if given a few good influences and a lot of firm boundaries, which volume two seems to set him up for. At the very least, he got one of the best action scenes in the books.

8. Ahuul from The Atomic Time of Monsters by William Cope

Ok, last kaiju on this list, I promise! Or at least the last one from ATOM. Ahuul is the first villainous kaiju we meet in William Cope's groundbreaking series, and he does a good job of setting up the stakes - before we properly meet him, the story is relatively light-hearted, especially with the big, lovable friendly kaiju Tyrantis forming an unlikely friendship with human paleontologist Dr. Lerna. But then Ahuul flies out and begins eating people to reminds us that these monsters can be quite deadly indeed. Things get particularly dire when he leaves the countryside and lands in the nearby town, at which point we see how helpless the local law enforcement of this rural community are in the face of a kaiju threat - and that makes it all the more cathartic a release when Tyrantis arrives to kick his ass.

Ahuul doesn't have a redemption arc so much as what tumblr has called a "Vegeta arc" - which is to say, he never really stops being a nasty, vicious bastard, he just ends up surrounded by enough morally inclined badasses that he stops being able to get away with doing much evil anymore. By the end of volume one, he becomes something of a joke, easily trounced by all the other monsters around him, as by that point the world of ATOM has expanded enough to show that a monster as deadly to humans as Ahuul is still ultimately kind of a small fish in a big pond.

Which does lead to some character development, in a roundabout way. Ahuul may be awful, but he doesn't like to be beaten up all the time, and so he starts making efforts to tone down his worse impulses and gain the tolerance of his neighbors. Seeking redemption out of pragmatism instead of remorse may not be super moral, but it does shed an interesting light on the nasty bastard, and allows us to enjoy him as a character without worrying that his comedically awful personality will cause real problems.

7. The Jester's Jape from No Small Feat and Wake of the Red Death, a pair of Fabula Ultima TTRPG Liveplay Shows GM'ed by William Cope

(inking for these sprites done by the illustrious @dragonzzilla)

I suppose I'm cheating by putting four characters in one spot, but you kind of have to take these ladies together. A quartet of goofy villainous henchmen in the vein of the Turks from Final Fantasy 7 and Ozzy, Flea, and Slash from Chrono Trigger, the Jester's Jape are a quartet of trouble-makers who routinely find themselves working for arch-villains and megalomaniacs because hey, it pays the bills. Though the bosses they work for tend to be bastards (or at least majorly conceited), they themselves are firmly in the "punch clock villain" mold, only doing what they need to to get paid, and more than happy to betray the evil bastards they were working for if things go South. I also like the fact that they establish clowns are explicitly a variety of half-demon in the setting of these stories, because it's fun to think of clowns as a variety of monster rather than just an occupation.

6. The Ravening Beast from No Small Feat, a Fabula Ultima TTRPG Liveplay GM'ed by William Cope

(Inking for these pieces done by the magnanimous @scatha5 and the splendiferous @dinosaurana, respectively)

Ok one more kaiju I suppose, technically, if we really stretch the definition of the word a bit. In a campaign full of fairy tale pastiches, The Ravening Beast fulfills the archetype of The Big Predator That Wants to Eat You - not just your Big Bad Wolves, but your bridge trolls, your manticores, and all other large hairy things dwelling in wild places and waiting for innocent passersby to cobble up. And for most of the campaign that seems to be all there is to the monster - just a big, nasty, hungry thing that wants to eat and eat and eat, a primal fear that torments the player characters at every turn.

Until, of course, the heroes track it to its den, and we discover the Beast's history - how its father particularly aimed to sire a monster, creating a creatures whose hormones were so imbalanced that it had to eat its siblings at birth just to quell the churning emptiness in its guts. How it was specifically groomed to be a maneater, and how it was fed a corpse with one of the magic jewels that serve as the campaign's primary mcguffins, which turned it into an even worse monster.

At the end of the story, the Ravening Beast wasn't a figure to be afraid of, but one to be pitied - a poor, mistreated creature who was never given a chance to be happy, and like the real life man-eaters that inspired it, sadly had to be put down for its own sake.

5. Prince Lucifer of Cocytus from No Sympathies by William Cope

Yep, that's right, it's the goddamn devil. William Cope's magnificent first novel, No Sympathies, gives us a taste of its take on Lucifer at the start by showing us his rousing speech during the War in Heaven before The Fall, but after that it waits a long time to show us the demon of demons when he's fully crowned in his sinful glory as Hell's prince of princes, content to build his reputation in whispers before we see him in action. Once Lucifer is fully unveiled, though, he is every bit the cunning and cruel bastard you'd expect, castrating his daughter's would-be suitor and generally coming off as in control of every situation we see him in.

At least, until the halfway point of the book, where shit truly hits the fan and Lucifer's dominion of Hell is threatened in way he's never had to face before. Lucifer, the ultimate bad boy, is forced into having to fight to save his people, and as expected, he's pretty fucking bad at it because, well, he's a self-centered douche - but one with enough charm and enough love in his heart to still be likable, making us root for him to get his shit together despite it all and finally be the hero he's always claimed to be.

4. Prince Beelzebub of Scathatch from No Sympathies by William Cope

While Lucifer is arguably more important to the plot of No Sympathies, I think anyone who's read William Cope's brilliant debut effort would agree that Beelzebub is his favorite of the princes. Hell, the lord of flies even gets to do the novel's title drop as part of his starring role in the chapter that really underlies the book's major point - namely, how can we judge the damned so harshly when we too are capable of sin, and isn't viewing some as sinners and some as saved a sin of hubris in itself?

Beelzebub gets some slick one-liners and produces one of the most horrifying images in the book, but more than that, he shows the pathos inherent to being a devil, as he's smart enough to realize that landing himself in Hell was a dumb move that's only brought him misery, but is too proud to fully accept his culpability in it, which makes his struggle to rationalize why he's suffering so much kind of tragic. Like Lucifer, you find yourself rooting for him to get his shit together despite his MANY rough edges, especially when the plot hits its big turn and he's forced into an unlikely hero role.

3. Marquise Alichino from No Sympathies by William Cope

It's a novel entirely focused on demons that almost no one's read, of course I'm going to mine it for characters! Alichino is, on the surface, a simpler villain than Lucifer or Beelzebub, in that her flaws are exaggerated to comedic extremes and mostly played for laughs. Hell, she's literally a demonic harlequin, isn't that appropriate? But her silliness contributes to her sympathetic nature, as you quickly get the sense that Alichino isn't fully aware of how nasty she's being, in part because the nature of Hell has divorced her from understanding the scope of suffering her actions inflict on those she's sent to punish. Alichino is further softened by the affection and loyalty she shows for those she's deemed worthy of her protection, proving to be a reliable ally despite her violent nature.

2. Matilda from No Sympathies by William Cope

This is the last No Sympathies character, I promise - and yes, that means I won't be including the book's protagonist, Pug, since you can't really argue he's a villain. He's a henchmen at best. Matilda, though, was a full on temptress in her heyday, in that it was literally her job to tempt people to sin. We even get to see her on the job, where she acts with all the sleaze of a used car salesmen while trying to convince a mortal man to sin. Of course, it backfires on her when she proves to have too big of a heart to stick to landing, and ends up demoted to a lowly position in Hell for it. The Matilda we first meet in the novel is broken by that experience, and much of the book is built on her discovering and embracing the goodness within herself despite the misery it brought her in the past - while Pug may be the main character of No Sympathies, Matilda is arguably the novel's heart.

1. Lord Dhenregirr from the Wizard School Mysteries series by William Cope

We're ending with a character from William Cope's exceptional and utterly unique novel series that is certainly not similar to any popular fantasy fiction franchise that was published within the last three decades, Wizard School Mysteries. While only two of the promised eight novels in the series have been published so far, I think it's safe to say that Lord Dhenregirr is a scene-stealing standout among the supporting cast. In the first book, The Meddlesome Youths, he plays a primarily comedic role, a bumbling minor villain with delusions of competence and a tendency to make grandiose speeches about his wicked plans that are undercut by how quickly he's defeated, like an even more pathetic one-man version of Team Rocket.

However, in the second book, Tournament of Death, we get to see more dimensions of him, ad this is where Lord Dhenregirr shows signs of being more than just a gag character. Facing the protagonist of the series, James Chaucer, in a one-on-one battle in the titular tournament, Dhenregirr proves to be a far more competent fighter than previously shown, as for once he's neither outnumbered nor caught by surprise. No-selling most of James's spells and summoning a legion of skeleton soldiers to fight alongside himself, the goofy ineffectual villain ends up becoming a serious threat.

That is, until James threatens those skeleton minions with harm, which is when Dhenregirr exposes a truly sympathetic side of himself, as it turns out he's the rare villain who actually cares about the well-being of his cronies. Add to this the fact that some of his dialogue in the fight seems more like that of a mentor than an adversary to James, and you start to see how there could be more to Dhenregirr's motives than the simple cartoon villainy they first appeared to be. With six books left in the series, there's plenty of room for Dhenregirr to grow into a truly complex characters, and I for one cannot wait to see what William Cope does with him.

21 notes · View notes

chaosduckies · 2 days

Text

Restoration (Chapter 11)

The time has come! This took me about five drafts for me to actually think it was decent so I hope you guys enjoy it! There’s just a whole lot of little scenes I liked to make. It’s a roller coaster of emotions, you’re going to hate me but it gets better! (Please don’t hate me I will not hesitate to cry TwT) Otherwise, enjoy!

Word Count: 12.7k

CW: Death, Vague mentions of suicide, severe trauma, vague gore warning, violence, I think that’s it!

11- Ryker

It was quiet without Angela and Lucky. Mostly because Dylan and Lucky are almost always the cause of all the loud noises, but sometimes Angela and Isabelle just liked to play around. Now, it was lonely. Of course Nathan always let Angela talk with us on his phone for hours since we can always see Lucky at school, but Angela was being picked up by Nathan for almost a full week. Nathan says she’s been doing fine. She plays some games with his mom and he likes playin hide and seek with her when she’s bored. As for Lucky, Nathan says he’s just been doing his own thing. What he usually does. He also says that he’s on the phone with Dylan all the time too. Not surprising.

No worries though. They’ll be back before Christmas. There was no way I was letting them miss it. Plus, the riots and stuff have been going down lately. They can finally come home, and I really, really missed them. No matter how many times I’ve had to clean up after them or they’ve given me half a heart attack every time they’re on the edge of somewhere high in the house. They were my siblings, I couldn’t just not care.

Jasmine helped me take down all of the elevators around the house. The only bad part about that is that we can’t exactly put them back once they’re off, so it’s going to be like this until I can find the time to put some in later. They’ve never had a problem being carried around everywhere anyways.

I sighed, laying down on my bed and staring at the ceiling. There wasn’t anything to do really. Dylan stayed in his room talking to Lucky while also playing whatever game he had, Jasmine was in the living room playing with Isabelle since no one else could at the moment. Usually Angela kept her busy.

“Ry!” I heard Jasmine’s voice yell through my door. I groaned. I didn’t feel like getting up. I just laid down not too long ago, can I not get a break?

“What!” I screamed back.

“Isabelle says she’s hungry!”

I placed a hand on my forehead, forcing my body under the covers. I was too tired to do anything, but I’m pretty sure we have some leftovers from last night she could eat. Jasmine and Dylan can make themselves something. I just wanted to get some sleep at this point.

“There’s leftovers in the fridge!”

I heard the fridge door open and close, then the microwave starting all the way from my room. I finally relaxed, the pillow cold under my head and my lights off with the blinds closed, blocking out any evening sun that threatened to creep inside my room. Perfect time to go to sleep. the best part about it was that I didn’t have school in the morning either. I was so physically and mentally exhausted I could just pass out. And I did.

——————

When I woke up, it was to the smell of burnt pancake batter, making me scrunch up my nose and hurry to the kitchen, where Jasmine was currently throwing out her entire plate of pancakes that were beyond burnt. I laughed, watching her hurry to turn off the stove that was surprisingly not on fire. Jasmine just glared at me, leaning agianst the counter in defeat. I walked up next to her, smirking the entire time, “You just lost to pancake batter.”

She playfully punched me in the shoulder, laughing along with me. I looked back at the box she had used, seeing that there was still enough for the four of us. I sighed, grabbing another bowl and placing the old one into the sink. Might as well make the rest if they really wanted pancakes.

“Why’d you try cooking? You hate being anywhere near a stove.” I asked, mixing together the powder with milk.

“You were asleep.” Her voice slightly a higher pitch. I looked back at her for a second, watching as she tapped her hand on the counter.

“What else?” I grabbed a new pan that didn’t have burnt remains of pancakes and turned on the stove. Dylan knew how to cook a little bit. Jasmine would have woken him up to help her. So why didn’t she?

“Nothing. Isabelle and I woke up about an hour ago and she just told me she was hungry.” Jasmine shrugged her shoulders. I poured some of the newly made batter into a pan and let it sit there for a couple seconds. She wasn’t going to tell me. At least not anytime soon. Better to just accept her answers now before she gets mad.

I stayed silent until Dylan walked into the room, immediately sitting down on top of the counter and yawning. He scrunched up his nose, the faint smell of smoke in the air, “What did Jasmine burn this time?” He joked, earning a punch to the shoulder that actually looked like it hurt.

Everyone grabbed their plates, and we all watched a cartoon in the living room. It just felt quiet without Dylan and Lucky constantly messing around with each other or Isabelle and Angela playing with their stuffed animals. I knew we all missed them. Just two more days. Two more days and they’ll be back with us. Everything was going to go back to normal. I’d really have to thank Nathan and his mom for helping us out so much. I smiled at the thought.

———Nathan———

Despite there being two more people in the house, is was actually relatively quiet. Which was surprising given that Ryker’s house was usually filled with a huge commotion. Maybe it was because they were away from each other? I really did feel bad. I mean, they all seemed really close to one another. Plus after Ryker told me what happened to their parents… It must be hard. I couldn’t think about leaving my mom for any reason, so it must be so much worse when it’s your own siblings.

They were going back this Sunday. Things have gone down and it’s nearly Christmas so I didn’t want them to miss that. Lucky was taking a nap on the couch while Angela was busy with a coloring book my mom had bought her the other day. She was currently coloring a picture of a parrot, and for a four year old she was surprisingly good at coloring. My mom was cooking dinner. I offered to do it instead but she just argued that she hasn’t cooked for me in a while. I just left it at that.

So now I was laying down on the couch. School was out for winter break finally. Which meant only five more months until I would be left alone again. Just my mom and I. I didn’t plan on going to college, maybe just a part time job. After what happened so many years ago I’ve been afraid to live on my own. But let’s not think about that right now.

What I was worried about was what if Ryker didn’t like the present I would be giving him. The concert tickets of course. They didn’t really cost much. Like a seventy dollars for two tickets? Not bad. I had bought everyone else’s gifts except for Dylan’s. I knew he liked sports and all that, but I couldn’t get him something like that. I had zero idea and I really needed to ask Lucky what to get him, because I’m pretty sure Lucky had bought something for him before he came here. I’d just have to ask. Not now though.

I know Ryker loves reading, drawing, cooking. What else? Lucky mentioned something about sweets? Like cookies and all that? How would I even do that? I can’t just bake something fifty times my size. I had thought about buying something like a cake but how would I even get it to him? I mean… I could ask for help. Maybe from Jasmine? Nope. Get that thought out of my mind. She hates my guts. Dylan then? That would mean I’d have to ask him for a favor, and I didn’t really want to. But how else would I give Ryker a good gift?

I guess that’s what I would do. But instead of buying one I’d ask Dylan to make it using my recipe. Would he though? I mean he seems like a nice guy. I guess the real question would be if I could be alone with him for about two hours. Or if could handle it at least. I’ve really only been around Ryker.

——————

After we ate dinner, it was around 7 but Angela already looked exhausted. My mom set her to sleep in the guest room before leaving for work. I didn’t get why she always overworked herself. I knew she was tired too, but yet she stays awake almost all day to take care of us, and then leaves for work at night. When it was just me here as soon as she came back she’d give me a hug, take a shower, and then head to bed until it was later in the evening. I guess having more people in the house is making her think she has to stay up. I can take care of everyone. I didn’t mind playing around with Angela, I didn’t mind joking Lucky in a game, or going outside with everyone. I also didn’t mind cooking for more than just two people. So I didn’t exactly know why she stayed awake when she was so tired.

“I can’t wait to head back home alreadyyyy.” Lucky groaned, the tv playing quietly in the background. He was on his phone while l sat reading a book as usual.

“Sorry.” I mumbled, closing my book and turning my head to face the tv that was currently playing a movie about some cops trying to catch a serial killer or something like that. I wasn’t paying attention.

Lucky stayed quiet for a while before facing me, “Sorry for what?”

“That you have to stay here.” I answered.

“It’s not even your fault. Plus, it’s not even bad here. I just miss being with my family, y’know?” Lucky explained, now facing the ceiling with his arms under his head. I nodded my head. I didn’t exactly know how he felt about this whole situation. I’m sure he realizes why he even has to be here. Because some people just don’t like humans.

I opened my book again, trying to get at least halfway done with it before I fall asleep. At least that was my goal. Honestly I was extremely tired for no reason. I go to bed relatively early, and since I don’t have school anymore I’ve been waking up at around nine in the morning everyday. I didn’t know why I felt so exhausted. I wasn’t too worried though. I feel fine in the morning so it’s fine.

“Can I ask you a question, Nathan?” Lucky asked, still staring at the ceiling.

“Sure?” It came out more as a question.

“Do you like Ryker?”

My eyes widened. What kind of a question was that? “Yeah. He’s a nice friend. Why wouldn’t I?” Lucky started laughing, sitting up and now looking right at me, “I meant like, like him. Y’know, like a couple?”

I felt my cheeks immediately heat up at the realization. Lucky started laughing so hard he was choking while I buried my face in my hands. This was embarrassing. I tried getting rid of the red blush that just seemed to be painted on me at this point. I groaned as Lucky caught his breath, still waiting on an answer, though I’m sure he’s already assume one.

I’ve never really thought about it. I mean I do like him as a friend. He’s done nothing but help me ever since I’ve met him. I really do like being with him too. But do I really like him? I could just be mistaking it for liking him as a friend. That was probably it really. I don’t think I do. Nope. Plus, what makes anyone think that Ryker would like me back? It just didn’t make any sense. was he even into boys? Was I even into anyone? I’ve always thought that no one would want to be around me pretty much my whole life. I don’t know anymore at this point. Why were we even on the topic?

“N-no. We’re just friends.” The blush on my face was still painted across my cheeks. Lucky just rolled his eyes, “Whatever you say.”

I grabbed my book that I had lightly thrown on the cushion next to me and hid my bright red face in it. Just forget about it. Why would he ask that question anyways? It so random to ask. I was so unprepared too. There was no way I could just forget about this.

———Ryker———

The cold air outside felt great. A thin layer of snow now covered the entire city from last nights little shower, and it just felt great to be outside. Today was going to be a good day. I could feel it. Today also happened to be the day that Lucky and Angela would be coming home with us, which we were all excited about.

Jasmine had work today, and of course she was angry. It actually took me a while to clam her down so she wouldn’t be late for work. So now it was just Dylan and Isabelle with me as we headed to the bus stop to go and get them. I guess this counts as a family reunion? I mean, we haven’t really seen each other for nearly a week. It may not seem that long, but when all you have are your siblings, it’s not easy to let go of them. Let alone be apart from them for this amount of time.

Nathan had already texted me that they were already waiting. Apparently his mom wanted to say goodbye to Angela because she grew attached to her. I wasn’t very surprised. They must be freezing though. I know this kind of weather is kind of amplified for humans too. My mind went back to that night that seemed like forever ago. When Nathan had just snuggled up as close as he wanted to me for warmth. My heart fell, and a small smile appeared on my face as we walked along the sidewalk.

When we arrived at the bus stop, Lucky had practically ran as fast as he could to Dylan’s hand. Isabelle stayed in the back, smiling. I had told her before we had left to keep her distance from these two. Mainly because I had noticed how alert Nathan was when Isabelle was around. But that’s not something I should worry about now.

I crouched down, watching a small four-year old girl stumble over the snow to get to me. I let down a finger for her to hang on to while I talked to Nathan and his mom, but I couldn’t help but notice how the woman standing next to Nathan flinched as soon as Angela had hugged my finger. Did she think I’d hurt my own sister? That-that can’t be it, right?

“Thank you both so much. I don’t know what I would do if you hadn’t helped.” I slightly smiled, they smile back, “Oh you’re welcome! If you need help you can send them our way anytime!” His mother offered. She was the complete opposite of Nathan. She didn’t seem sheepish around me at all. So then why was Nathan so afraid? The thought snuck into the back of my mind, but I just pushed it aside.

“Ready Angel?” I asked, waiting for her to nod her head, but instead she rushed over to Nathan’s mom, gave her a hug then hurried back. I chuckled, tilting my hand slightly for her to climb on herself. I turned to Nathan, who waved a little before quickly stuffing his hands into the pockets and scrunching up his jacket. Just as I called it, he was freezing. Maybe he wants to come with us for a little? I have to take them shopping since there was only a couple days until Christmas, and Dylan and Lucky still needed to find gifts.

“Wanna come with us, Nathan? We’re just going shopping then heading back to my house.” I asked. He looked shocked before turning to his mom who nodded and whispered something to him. Nathan nodded his head with a smile on his face. I let my hand down again, watching him lift himself up on the first try, but still trip over thin air and fall. I would help him, but judging by the way he reacted a week ago when I was just trying to check up on him, I don’t think I really want to freak him out even more.

I thanked his mom again for helping, and we left. Dylan and Lucky were catching up while we made our way to the small store where we usually go to. I handed Angela to Isabelle. She knew what to do and what not to do. I couldn’t imagine Isabelle ever hurting anyone or anything so it was fine.

Behind me, Lucky and Dylan were laughing about something, and it made me kind of curious, but I didn’t want to bother them. Even if they spent hours talking on the phone and as much time together in school as they could, they still acted like they haven’t seen each other for years. That’s what happens when you let them share a room when they were younger. It wasn’t a bad thing though. Not at all.

It wasn’t too early. Maybe about midday so it was a little warmer, but that didn’t stop me from worrying about the little ice cube in my palm that was shivering. Was he just sensitive to the cold? It would make sense. Not even Angela was, but then again she was wearing a thicker jacket. I slightly cupped my hand a little more, watching him adjust his position and bundle up a little more. My heart fell, I wish I could help more, but I was scared that he’d freak out again if I did anything more. The last thing I wanted was for him to be uncomfortable.

“We’re almost there. You okay?” I asked worriedly, passing by some people on the sidewalk that seemed to be coming back from shopping themselves. A lot of them were carrying bags and wrapping paper. So people had the same idea as us.

Nathan nodded his head, a slight smile on his face. Just a two more blocks. I looked back, seeing that Dylan was holding one of Isabelle’s hands and smirking right at me. Lucky was on his shoulder, and I’m guessing he was doing the exact same thing. I raised an eyebrow, making them both laugh. I rolled my eyes, turning to the huge parking lot coming into view. Surprisingly enough, there weren’t many cars. I guess it was a good thing we came relatively early.

As soon as I entered the store, I was hit with warm air, slightly making it hard to breath for the split second I was under the heater. I stared down at Nathan, who looked relieved, but he still felt like an ice cube in my hand. Just give him some time. He looked like he was doing better already. A small smile involuntarily formed on my face.

“Sooo it’s only Lucky and I picking out gifts today?” Dylan walked beside me.

“Well yeah. If Isabelle and Angela want to get some things too.” I shrugged my shoulders, walking over to the sitting area where the small deli stand was. There weren’t too many people here, and I was just kind of here to make sure everything would be okay. I needed to get gifts too, but I just need to go pick them up when the order is done.

“Alright. We won’t be long.” Dylan grabbed Isabelle’s hand again, asking her and Angela if they wanted to go pick out gifts for everyone. I laughed when they both cheered. Meanwhile, I let Nathan down on the table. It took him a while to catch his balance, but he just sat back down on the table instead of the human-sized table on top. It’s not like I minded though. We’ve shared a desk together since the start of school anyways.

“Feeling better?” I asked, holding my head up with one of my hands.

“Y-yeah,” He stuttered, playing with his hands, “Why’d you w-want me to come a-anyways?”

I shrugged my shoulders, “Why not? You could have said no if you didn’t want to come.”

He thought about his response for a bit, “Thank you.”

I was a bit surprised. Why was he thanking me? What did I do for him? Get him out of the house? I was about to ask what for, but I wasn’t going to. He probably has his reasons. Whatever’s going on in his mind I guess. But I could say I was grateful that he said yes. I would have probably just been on my phone while waiting for Lucky and Dylan to pick out gifts. It gets boring.

Crowds of people were leaving and some were entering. Every time someone had passed by us I couldn’t help but notice Nathan inch closer to me. Right. It’s been a while since we’ve really hung out I forgot he doesn’t really do well when other people are near him for whatever reason. I used my free hand to hide him from everyone’s sights. Maybe he’s just reticent. It wouldn’t be shocking. No offense!

“Um, what are you doing for Christmas?” I tried taking his mind off of whatever was going on in there. He slightly flinched, then shook his head like I had just brought him back to reality, “Ah, um, reading? We… We don’t r-really do Christmas. Just hand each other gifts and th-that’s it.” He smiled like that’s normal. Then again, as far as I know it was only him and his mom. Still, it must be pretty sad that the doesn’t really celebrate.

“That’s it?” I looked at him sadly as he nodded his head. Usually we just kind of decorate together, which was why I hadn’t even set up the tree yet, but then Dylan and I make dinner, and we just open gifts. It’s not like this big thing though. It used to be when my parents were still here.

“If you want to you can celebrate with us. You don’t need to get us gifts or anything either.” I offered, making him laugh. A confused look was plastered on my face before he explained, “I kinda… already have g-gifts for you all.”

I blinked a few times. That I was not expecting. When? Why? Why did he get us all gifts? He didn’t have to. Now I kind of feel bad that he actually spent money on us. Did he get one for everyone? I think he did.

“Huh? W-why?” I was at a loss for words. Of course I bought him something, and I really hoped he liked it, but now I have to worry if it’ll be equal to whatever he bought for me. My initial plan was to surprise him with it, but apparently he had the same idea. I just hoped that it wasn’t anything crazy expensive because then I’d really feel bad.

“You’ve all b-been really nice to m-me,” He started, “Oh yeah! I still d-don’t have anything for Dylan. D-do you mind helping me?”

“I mean, yeah of course, b-but how did you even…?” I was confused. How did he get presents if he’s… vertically challenged. Our size difference limits us a lot so how did he even buy gifts if they’d be fifty times bigger than himself? Even we struggle with that which explains why we all go Christmas shopping at different times with Lucky since Angela can’t walk into a human-sized store by herself.

“I haven’t b-bough them yet. I actually need y-your help with that too.” He laughed nervously. Now that makes more sense. I just nodded, smiling. Nathan was too good of a friend for me. I wasn’t expecting anything honestly. I would definitely give him a hug if I didn’t think he’d be afraid.

——————

I gave Nathan a list of everything Dylan was into, even the embarrassing stuff that only his family knows about, but I trust Nathan not to tell anyone. Eventually he found something and sent it to me to make sure. It was a poster of one of his favorite actors, signed and everything apparently. Dylan absolutely loves watching movies. Even the old ones made thirty years before he was even born. I don’t know where Nathan found that at, but oh my gosh if all the gifts are like that I am going to feel so bad that mine won’t even be comparable to his.

Right on time, Dylan and all of them came back with bags in their hands. We all left and walked back to our house. Like I said, today was a good day.

———Nathan———

Today really was a good day. I have no idea why I had thought that hits morning, but obviously it wasn’t lying to me. It’s been a while since I’ve hung out with Ryker, so of course I said yes to his invitation. Before I left my mom just whispered for me to go, like she was going out to do something as well. I knew she took off work today as well so obviously something was happening there. But I completely forgot about it while I was at Ryker’s house.

It was already getting late. The sun just barely peaking out over the horizon. There was a light snow outside, covering the already frosted ground outside. It was nice and warm inside, with the heater on and slightly blowing right on me. I was snuggled up near the windowsill in the living room, blanket on top of me and staring outside watching the sun go down. Ryker was helping his siblings wrap gifts, so it was just me for now. It was surprisingly quiet except for the faint crinkling of wrapping paper.

The front door opened wide, letting in cold air that slightly stung my face. I peaked my head around the wall that obstructed my view, seeing a girl with long, curly black hair with a few dark purple streaks walk into the house, carrying a two bags and a uniform that looked like it belonged to a gas station. I guess Jasmine was working or something? Either way, I pressed myself up father into the corner, trying not to be seen by her. She scares me. Even if Lucky said she’s a lot nicer than she’s been to me, I don’t exactly think she’ll ever like me.

“Ry! I’m home!” She screamed from across the house. I stayed under the blanket, staying hidden. I have a feeling the second she sees me she’ll start asking questions or threaten me. Luckily, she didn’t see me, and instead headed off to her room, soon followed by the sound of the shower starting.

Ryker walked back into the room, grabbing something off from a table and leaving again. Then everyone had started bringing in the now wrapped presents and placing them on the on the floor. Ryker came back with a box and set it down beside the couch. I forced myself to crawl a bit closer to see what they were doing. Setting up a Christmas tree. I’m guessing they had the ornaments in the box too.

“Alright, you guys go crazy.” Ryker laughed, opening up the box and walking to the couch by the windowsill I was currently sitting down at. He sat down, sighing and turned to check on me. I flashed a smile, earning one back.

I watched as Dylan set up the tree for everyone while Isabelle quickly grabbed some white streamers and draped all over the tree messily. My attention was turned to the still form on the couch next to me. Ryker’s chest slowly fell and rose, his eyes closed and covered up in the blanket. He looked comfortable…

Was he asleep? Probably. I would too if I had to keep up with this many people. Was it hard? Well no duh, Nathan. He always looks tired when he’s at school. Should I leave now then? I didn’t want to wake him up when I had to go. I would feel terrible. Actually, now would be a great time to ask Dylan about getting Ryker an extra gift in case he won’t like the one I have for him. The only problem is mustering up the courage to even talk to him. Alone. I think it’d be fine though. It’s only for a little bit until I can eventually make this.

It took them around twenty minutes to place all of their ornaments on the tree, but they did. None of them dared to wake up Ryker after they were done either. Jasmine walked into the room, dressed up in white sweatpants and a sweater. She walked up to Ryker, rolling her eyes with a smile on her face before she noticed me. Her smile disappeared as she glared at me. I sank back, burying myself in the blanket. What did I do to her?

She averted her attention to the tree, smiling and talking with both Isabelle and Angela. Thanking them for helping with the tree and then continued to play around with Angela in her hands. No wonder she threatened me so much when she had to watch Angela leave. Jasmine was really attached to her. Kind of like my mom.

“Boo!” I physically jumped, my heart racing from the scare. I looked behind me, seeing Lucky laughing, nearly choking. Dylan was also laughing, but I just smiled. Where did he even come from?

“Oh my gosh you should have seen your face!” Dylan let out a hand for me to help me get on my feet. It took me a while to balance myself from sitting down for so long, but I managed.

“You want to get out of here for a bit?” Lucky asked just as soon as Dylan offered an open palm. I stared at it, wide-eyed. I really only trust Ryker to hold me, but I guess this won’t be so bad.

“Sure.” Lucky grabbed my wrist as we walked on, and for the first time in my life I didn’t trip and fall on my face embarrassingly. Okay, so I had help this time but one day I’ll be able to do it on my own. Hopefully. Or maybe I won’t even have to.

Dylan took us to his room, where there were tons of posters of games and a little tv stand with a shelf full of some books that he probably needed for school and some games along with VHS tapes. I was honestly really surprised by the place. I don’t know why expected there to be sporty things like weights and basketballs. Y’know. What athletes have.

There was a bedside dresser with a few human-sized things on it which I was guessing was Lucky’s temporary room. I was guessing these two just shared a room since his other room wasn’t at all filled with things. Just a few clothes and a dresser. I’m guessing everything else was here.

Lucky and I were set down on the dresser while Dylan sat down on his bed. Lucky gave me a short tour of his own little room before letting me sit down on his bed while he sat in a chair. It was quiet for a second before Jasmine’s voice screamed from the other room, “Lucky!”

He groaned in response while Dylan snickered, letting lucky onto the floor. It was just the two of us now. I waited until I saw Lucky leave before trying my hardest to calm down before I had a actually tried to talk to Dylan by myself. I could when there were people around. What’s so different this time? I had no one to save me if I said the wrong thing.

“Oh hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you what you got Ryker for Christmas. Lucky told me you had something good.” Dylan spoke first, a grin on his face. Well I already told Lucky, so if I don’t tell Dylan he’ll just end up telling him. There was no point in hiding it.

“C-concert tickets.” I answered, hoping he could hear. I was guessing he did by the reaction. His eyes went wide and his jaw slightly opened wide in shock.

“That one band he’s absolutely crazy for?”

I nodded my head. Not the way I would word it. I actually kind of find it funny how much Ryker loves that band. I forgot the name, but he’ll remind me when I show him the tickets.

“Oh my gosh he’s gonna to go crazy.” Dylan laughed. Does that mean he’ll like it? If that’s so then I don’t need to ask for help. This makes my life so much easier. I’m so glad I don’t have to ask for any favors. It’s not exactly a grate first impression to immediately ask for something. I let out a sigh of relief.

——————

I didn’t leave the house until about an hour after Ryker woke up. It was close to midnight, but it’s not like I’m some little kid who has a bed time. Heck, we don’t even have school tomorrow so it really didn’t matter.

When I arrived home, my mom was asleep on the couch, the tv playing The Golden Girls per usual and the blanket halfway on the ground. I smiled to myself, pulling the blanket over her and turning up the heater. She was freezing. I headed to my room, grabbed a pair of clothes, took an extremely hot shower, and buried myself under the blankets. Things were going great. Maybe life really didn’t hate me all that much.

———Ryker———

It was Christmas Day. The day everyone was waiting for. Especially Angela and Isabelle who woke me up at six in the morning to wish everyone in the house a merry Christmas. I admit, I was just the slightest bit annoyed, but that was because I went to bed late at night cleaning up and setting up gifts. I also had to take out some food to defrost for later.

This morning was a huge mess. Even if we weren’t really doing anything until later, I still had to go pick up a few things before. The day before I helped Nathan with the gifts he had bought, which by the way he ordered online (I don’t know how I didn’t think about this sooner) I wrapped the one’s I could while he wrapped the other two that belonged to Lucky and Angela. I was honestly surprised at how thoughtful he was. He even bought one for Jasmine and I know for a fact that Jasmine would absolutely love it. Although she doesn’t like to admit it, she absolutely loves stuffed animals. I just don’t know how he even knew. Was he just guessing? Then I also noticed that he was hiding mine from me. I wondered what it could be, but I would find out later today.

I also had to go pick him up today, but that wasn’t my priority right now. I planned on going early in the morning, but the snow was coming down pretty heavy so I had to wait. I wouldn’t have minded heading out there, it’s just I didn’t want to get sick. I rarely do, but when it does happen, it’s terrible. So now it was almost four in the afternoon, only about two hours before all the stores started closing. Just barely making it in time to go pick up the cake Jasmine had ordered. Why she didn’t get it herself? I had zero idea. I would have made her get it if she hadn’t been half asleep.

Once in the store, the sweet smell of strawberry and chocolate filled my nose. Curse my sweet tooth. Where did she even find this place at? It was like in the middle of nowhere, yet it looked so nice inside and smelled delicious. A woman walked up to the counter, her apron dressed in icing and batter.

“Hi! Did you have an order?” She smiled, ready to tap away at the screen in front of her.

“Oh, um, I think it’s under the name Jasmine?” I replied, not being able to take my eyes off of the amazing looking cookies that were displayed.

“Yup! Let me just go get the box.” She left the room. Jasmine purposely made me come get this. She was doing something at home, and she thought she could distract me. Damn it it’s working.

The woman came back with a white box and typed something in the computer before l grabbed the box, and I guess she saw me looking at the displays because she just laughed, “I’ll give you a small box for free. How’s that sound?”

“Yes please.” I almost immediately replied, laughing along with her. I swear if Jasmine makes fun of me for this when I get home… I was handed another small box while I thanked the lady and left.

When I walked in the house, Jasmine was waiting right at the front door, a huge smirk on her face. I glared at her.

“Why the extra box?” She could barely hold in her snicker. I rolled my eyes, “Shut up. You’re not getting any.” I stuck my tongue out immaturely, while she tried reaching for the extra box I was holding just above my head. She gave up about two minutes later, snatching the cake from my hands and muttering something as she made her way to the kitchen.

I looked at the time, reading six thirty already. Now would be a good time to go quickly pick up Nathan. I gave him a quick text, placed the box of cookies in my room, and went back out.

——————

It only took me about half an hour to walk over there and back. Everyone knew Nathan was coming, and I don’t think I’ve ever been more excited. I mean, he’s never had a real Christmas according to him, so I’m glad I can at least give him the opportunity. Even if we aren’t family or anything, I think it’s a nice change of things. Plus, afterwards the younger ones go to bed while the rest of us stay up a little longer and go to our separate rooms. Really I was the only one alone because Jasmine falls asleep almost immediately. Nathan was actually staying the night, and not in the human accommodating house. I didn’t want him to be alone so I had offered to make a little space for him in my room. He agreed.

So now we were at the house, Nathan sitting down in my room away from the chaos happening. I was cooking, Dylan clearing the middle of the living room for later, Jasmine keeping the little ones busy, Lucky was taking a shower. Things were going great surprisingly enough. This was only the second time time we’ve celebrated without our parents, so I was expecting something to happen, but everyone seemed happy. The first time was hard for us, and we barely even wanted to celebrate, but it’s what our parents would have wanted, so we kept on going.

The food was relatively done, I just needed to go get some plates and get everyone in here. I went to my room, finding Nathan sitting on the makeshift bed I made out of some soft cloth I cut off of one my hoodies. What? I don’t used that one anymore. I would have been more than happy to let him on my bed and I sleep on the floor (I’m sure he was terrified just as much as I was about what could happen if we slept on the same bed) but I figured he’d feel bad, so I tried to make it as comfy as possible.

“Sorry for just leaving you here. I wasn’t sure if you’d be okay with the chaos happening in the other room.” I explained, offering a hand. He shook his head, stepping on and falling forward yet again. He’ll get it at some point. Hopefully.

“It’s fine.” He replied, groaning as he sat back up.

Lucky was already making the three of them a plate. I don’t really know where he learned how to do it, but he just did. I wasn’t complaining. It was less work for me anyways. As soon as everyone had their plate, we ate around the coffee table, laughing and sometimes messing around with one another. Jasmine had brought up the cookies again before I lightly slapped her shoulder.

Once we all finished eating, it was time for presents, which I handed out to everyone. Nathan told me to let everyone know to open the present he gave them last just so he knows how much they would all really like it. I just went along with it, so now everyone was kind of excited. I opened mine, getting one of the hoodies I had shown Jasmine just a few days ago. From Dylan a pair of new headphones since my old ones broke sadly. Lucky bought me some new markers since my old ones were dry. Isabelle and Angela combined their gifts and gave me a little picture frame of both of them (My heart was melting) that I would definitely be placing on the tv stand later.

It was weird for me since I didn’t have a physical gift from Nathan, and I didn’t really know how to react to that. Just what did he get me? I was so confused, but I waited patiently. I’m sure I’d love whatever it is either way.

Everyone was done opening their gifts, only left with one. Nathan jumped when all the attention was on him, visibly trembling. I stepped in for him. “Jasmine should go first.” I grinned. She rolled her eyes, grabbing the box I had stuffed the gift in.

“Like this is gonna be good…” She mumbled. I elbowed her side while Nathan looked down a little sadly. Just wait…

As soon as she had opened it, her jaw nearly dropped. She glared at me for a split second before turning back to the adorable looking teddy bear. She hates admitting it, but she loves those kinds of things.

“Okay, maybe you’re not so bad after all.” She smiled at him for the first time ever.

“My turn!” Isabelle and Angela both opened theirs at the same time, revealing a matching set of clothes. I had to cover my ears from the high pitched squeals. Nathan laughed, covering his ears too.

Lucky opened his, a game that he’s been wanting for forever. He hugged Nathan, he flinched at the contact, but either way hugged him lightly back. Dylan followed, confused at what his could be before he opened it up all the way and stuttered, struggling to find what to say.

“H-how did you…” He looked over the me, but I just shrugged and smirked.

“You are literally the best.” Dylan laughed, folding the paper back up.

We all laughed, including Nathan who was walking closer to me, waiting on the edge. Was he waiting for something? Oh! I let me hand out, seeing him use my thumb to help him balance so he didn’t embarrass himself in front of everyone. I brought him closer, confused the entire time as he pulled out his phone, and seconds later my own phone going off. He pointed at his as I hurried to pull mine out, and nearly dropped my phone when I saw the pictures he sent.

“You’re kidding, right?” I felt my face heat up slightly, watching him shake his head and laugh a bit. I did a double take before covering my mouth with my free hand.

“Told you he’d love it!” Dylan smiled.

I absolutely do yes.

“I-I, um, wasn’t sure if you’d like it.”

“Are you kidding? This is literally the best thing you could have ever given me.” I laughed, trying my hardest to hide the blush on my face, but it was too late because everyone was laughing except for Angela and Isabelle. Including me. Oh my gosh this was so much better than my gift to him. How was I even going to compare to his?

I looked to Lucky, who nodded his head and grabbed it really quickly before I even let Nathan back onto the table. Lucky handed it to him and pointed at me. Nathan started opening it, stopping halfway as he tried to figure out what it was. It wasn’t anything too special. Just a picture frame of the two of us. A picture we had taken a long time ago when we had to share classes. The same day that we hung out together for the first time.

“It’s not anything special. I’m not the best at picking gifts, but I hope you like it.”

I was surprised when he hugged it close to his chest and looked like he was about to cry.

“Awww.” Lucky joked around. I couldn’t help but notice the slight blush on his cheeks. He loved it.

We cleaned up, had the younger kids go to sleep and Jasmine. Dylan and Lucky were in their room watching a movie, while my door was closed along with my curtains. The only light was coming from the dim lamp I had on my desk. I let Nathan down on the nightstand. We were both changed into something more comfortable. So now it was just the two of us.

“I can’t believe you bought me tickets.” I exasperated, still in shock.

“Well yeah. You’re really nice to me, help me out a whole lot.”

I turned to face him, a slight smile on my face, “Really? I feel like you’re the one always helping me.” He nodded his head. It went silent for a bit before I decided to break it, “Are you tired?” Honestly, I was exhausted, but I was willing to keep Nathan company until he fell asleep.

“Mmm… yeah.” He replied, already under a blanket. I chuckled lightly, gettin under my own, “Good night then.”

“Good night, Ryker.” I heard him reply. I’ve rarely heard him say my name before, and I don’t know why my face started heating up.

Four days later.

———Nathan———

Everything was going so great. The Christmas party at Ryker’s was amazing. Even the few days before that it was great just the be with everyone. My mom was happy, I was happy. Life was finally turning around for me. For the first time in years I finally felt like I could actually have a normal life. I had friends, I was going to graduate in five months. Everything was looking all up for me.

So why did it get flipped back around?

My mom and I were just going to go buy fireworks. Just the small ones. Nothing too huge. That’s all we wanted. This was really the only thing we truly celebrated together since it marked the start of the a new year. It marked that we could restart our lives over again. We loved watching the many colors paint the sky. That’s all we wanted. And we couldn’t have it.

We were just in the wrong place at the wrong time I guess? Because everyone just acted like nothing had happened. That everything was going to be fine and okay. But it wasn’t. Nothing was “fine and okay.” I had really thought that maybe my life was finally turning around for the better just like my mom’s had, but no. I can never have anything nice just once. Just once I wanted something nice. And I couldn’t have it. Just like the fireworks we couldn’t have.

The store we were shopping at was relatively empty. Only a few people here and there. The only thing about it was that it was really close to the giant part of the city. That was all we were wary about. But we brushed it off. After all, we would only be there for about an hour then head back home.

“Ooo these look nice, right?” My mom picked up a tiny pack. I smiled, holding out the basket I was holding and let her place it in along with the two other tiny packs we had. We had continued looking, not at all aware of the large tremors that only grew more and more. And neither did the other people in the store. We all had just thought it was some unaware giant walking across the street. If only that were true.

The next thing we know, there’s screaming outside, we heard people fighting, we were rushed outside so we didn't get hurt, but we shouldn’t have ran outside. Two giants were fighting right in the open. Brutally at that. One had a very muscular build while the other was built, but not as muscular as the guy on top of him, laying punches in the face. People tried to break up the fight, but it only grew worse, and soon enough, the giants decided to bring humans into it. The one that was being pouched in the face continuously had tried to reach practically anything he could, and that just so happened to be a human-sized tree from a nearby park. Right where my mom was standing dialing 911.

I mean, what are the chances of that? It seemed like a made up lie, but it wasn’t. Trust me, I’ve tried my hardest to convince myself that it wasn’t real, that there was no way my mom would just be standing there and it just so happens that the giant would try reaching for the tree right next to her. Hah! It was ridiculous, right? I only wished I wasn’t telling the truth.

I stood in fear as I heard her scream at the top of her lungs while in the giant’s fist which was also holding the huge tree that looked minuscule in his hand. I couldn’t move. My mom was there. Getting hurt. And all I could do was stand and watch.

Eventually help did come, all the other humans had gone away except for the few that actually cared about what happened with my mom. I knew I was, because as soon as the paramedics came to see how she was doing, I nearly started sobbing in front of so many people. I’ve seen her like this before. She’ll be okay. Just let her heal for a few weeks and she can come back home. Right? I wish that were true. I wish that we hadn’t even decided to go to that stupid store. I wished that she was standing right next to me. But she wasn’t. And now everything I’ve worked so hard to build up here in this city is just taken away.

I stayed at the hospital, right next to my mom’s limp and weak body. The doctors were trying their hardest to keep her from… you can probably guess. Five broken ribs, a broken leg, and internal bleeding. I’m also pretty sure the doctor’s were hiding something from me, but I don’t know. She couldn’t breath well, and she winces every time she tries to move. Every time she wakes up she tells me to go home and get some rest. I tell her that I wasn’t leaving until she would be able to come home with me.

Today was no different. She would wake up, struggle to sit up, and eat her breakfast while I stayed sitting on the little bench. The doctor’s let me stay the night. I guess they felt bad or something? I didn’t know, but I wasn’t leaving her here. My phone would go off at least two times a day. It was always Ryker. I’m guessing he had heard what had happened, but I really didn’t feel like talking. Not now when this was when my mom needed me most.

“You should…. Eat…. Hon.” She had to take a few breaths between each word, which worried me, but the doctor’s would help with that. I believed it.

“I’m okay mom. Don’t worry about me.” My voice was light and tired. I didn’t feel hungry, but I knew my body was. I hadn’t eaten since the day she came here which was about three days ago. School starts tomorrow, but they called and said I didn’t have to come back until two weeks.

I refused to cry over this. If I did, then it would show that I’d given up. Mom always hated to see me cry. So I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t have to anyways since she would be coming back home with me.

My phone started going off again. Everyday at exactly nine and six Ryker would call, and I would let it ring until he was sent to voicemail. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I didn’t want to eat. I didn’t want to do anything but stay here with my mom and make sure she gets better. If she doesn’t then I don’t know what I would do.

“Maybe… you should… talk to him.” She wheezed. I shook my head, “I don’t feel like talking to anyone.”

“He’s worried, Nate. Just… promise me… you’ll talk to him?” I thought about it for a second before nodding my head. I was already hanging onto a promise her and I made all those years ago.

——————

“Mom!”

“Yes, Nate?”

“Do you promise to stay with me for forever?” I hung onto the hem of her tattered dress.

“Of course.” She smiled down at me.

——————

She had to keep that promise. She’s all I have left. Dad was already gone… I didn’t want to lose her too.

“Honey, go get some breakfast. For me, please?” She had begged, and I just couldn’t say no. I walked over to the door, and told I would be back.

———Ryker———

What happened three days ago was heartbreaking. At first I didn’t believe it. That’s a really big stretch, but it happened. How do I know? Because I’ve been calling and calling Nathan, and he doesn’t answer. It’s almost like he doesn’t wan tot talk, but then again I did the same with my own siblings after our parents passed away. I pushed them away and locked myself in my room. That’s what was happening with Nathan.

I had heard his mom was in the hospital, still healing, and I really do hope that she would be okay. Her and Nathan. It’s going to break Nathan if she… y’know.

Everyday I call him twice, he never answered. I understood why. I couldn’t be mad at him. The same thing happened to me. I pushed everyone away, and I only pulled myself together when I realized that they were also hurting. They helped me out like they did each other and now look at us. Back to some-what normal. Not to mention that they didn’t know how to cook or clean.

I groaned, leaning back in my desk chair while looking at my phone. I felt terrible. All I wanted to do was to try and help him out as much as I could. I would give him anything he needed. I know how bad it gets, and I would hate to see him like that.

My phone was going off, and I was surprised to see that Nathan was actually calling me back. I quickly picked up my phone and clicked the green phone button.

“Oh my gosh Nathan! Are you okay? I-I heard what happened and-“

“This is Ryker, right?” It was a raspy woman’s voice. His mom.

“Oh, y-yes ma’am.” My hands were shaking, my heart racing. I don’t know why.

“I-I’m sorry to ask… you of this but… can you do something… for me?” I covered my mouth, my heart throbbing. She sounded terrible. How could Nathan still be there and listen to his own mother like this? I couldn’t if I was him. Oh Nathan…

“Anything!”

I heard her lightly chuckle, “Just make sure… Nate doesn’t do anything bad… please? H-he’s really not… doing good.”

“Of course.” I would imagine he wouldn't be doing too good.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She hung up.

I threw my phone on my bed, worried about what Nathan was even doing. I really am worried about him. So is nearly all of my siblings. Including Jasmine. I really wanted to talk to him. But I don’t think he’s going to school for the next couple of weeks. How do I know? Because I have the exact same message from the school. Also with a small note from Mrs. Kay saying that I should be there for him. Why wouldn’t I? I’m not a fake friend. I just hoped Nathan would call me eventually.

———Nathan———

She wasn’t getting any better. Actually, I think she was getting worse. The doctor’s increased the amount of pain meds for her, and nearly everyday they have to do an emergency procedure because she couldn’t breath right. That’s when I received the news that she had a punctured lung, which explains why she couldn’t breath properly. But that wasn’t good news. There was none. Anything I had heard was something that was wrong with her.

It was evening now, I was reading a book while she had the channel turned on to The Golden Girls. Everything was peaceful until she had a fit of coughs, and eventually the heart monitor was beeping fast. The doctors rushed in, and I could hear her struggle to breath again.

“Mom!” I yelled, watching as they had rushed her down the hallway.

“I love you, Nate.” She formed a weak smile right before they shut the door on me to the procedure room.

——————

I came back home after a week of staying in the hospital on that uncomfortable bench. I had a bag over my shoulder, and stood in the empty living room. It was quiet. You could only hear the faint sounds of crickets outside in the dark. I headed to my room, turned on the lamp in my room, and laid down in my bed, holding the old teddy bear up against my chest.

She was gone.

Tears formed in my eyes, but I didn’t let them fall. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. And I didn’t. She wouldn’t want to see me like that. She would say that there was no reason to cry. But there was. I had no one now. Just myself. What would I do now? I sucked in a shaky breath, falling asleep and hoping that all of those was just some sick nightmare.

When I woke up the next morning, it was quiet still. I stood up, changed my clothes and headed to the living room, where no one was sitting down watching tv. I headed to my mom’s room, finding her bed messy. She always makes sure it’s made before leaving the house.

So it really wasn’t a nightmare.

I wasn’t hungry. At least I didn’t feel hungry. I had only eaten that one day, and even then all I had was half a muffin. It’s been about four days since then. I felt that my body was weak, but I didn’t care. There was nothing for me to care about. I had just thought for once second that everything was alright. That everything was going great, and then this happens. It’s just my luck, right?

My phone was going off. It hasn’t for a while. Ryker was calling again, and I still didn’t really feel like talking to anyone. Of course I realized that he was just trying to check up on me, but I really wasn’t up to the task. I wasn’t even up to the task of making myself something to eat, so what makes anyone think I could hold a conversation.

It was cold in the house, so I just grabbed a blanket and bundled myself up on the couch. The tv was on in the background. It was usually on, and I was so used to it playing something while I was in my room reading or taking a nap. What was I supposed to do with my life now? There really was no meaning if I didn’t have anyone anymore. Ryker could move on. He didn’t need to worry about me. I was just a temporary friend anyways.

Why am I thinking like this?

I can’t believe I fell for a false ending. I thought I could just live a happy life now. Of course whatever bad luck was following me never went away. I could keep wishing all I want, but it wouldn’t bring any of my parents back. I could cry, but it wouldn’t bring them back. No matter how hard it was to keep the tears from falling. They would hate to see me like that. They would also hate to see me alone, but it was hard to choose between the two.

I don’t want to leave Ryker.

I groaned, burying my face into my hands. Maybe Ryker would give up on me too if I stayed quiet long enough. He’d eventually stop calling me everyday and find a new friend that was much, much better than me. Then again… I don’t want to lose him too. I really do like him. He’s been nothing but patient and kind to me. This was how I’d be repaying him? I was a horrible person. I would tell him that I’m sorry if I had the guts to. But I don’t. There’s nothing more I want in the world than to just cry and cry and cry, and I couldn’t.

“I’m trying to keep myself together, mom.” I whispered, stifling back a sob and burying my entire body under the sheets. I felt terrible. I deserve everything that’s happened to me… I’m a horrible person and no one would disagree with me.

——————

For the next four days I just slept. Off and on. There were some days I would sit outside in the cold and watch as people walked down the street or how many cars went passing by. I’d go back inside, lay down on the couch with my little bear and go to sleep. I didn’t feel like doing anything else, and somehow I woke up the next day feeling even more tired than before. I didn’t know if that was a sign that my body was giving up on me, or if was from the lack of food that I’ve been neglecting to give to my body. I just haven’t been feeling like it.

Ryker never stopped calling, and each time he did my heart throbbed. Each time he called I had to hold in the tears that were already so hard not to let out. All of a sudden I wanted nothing more than for him to hold me close and keep me warm like he used to. I missed it. I missed him. Which was an odd thing for me to say. I grew too used to him, but was that really a bad thing? It just means it’ll hurt more when he eventually leaves me. He’ll take one good look at me now, and abandon me. Even the slightest mention of the thought was enough for me to not to answer his calls. I wanted to answer so badly.

Please help me.

I always repeated in my mind. I still had his gift. The picture of the two of us the first time we ever hung out together. I didn’t realize how small I really was next to him until I saw that photo, but I loved it. I had a real smile on my face. I haven’t been able to do that for a while.

This morning wasn’t any different, I sat outside for a while until I couldn’t feel my fingers, walked back inside, grabbed a book, and read until I fell asleep. When I woke up, I’d put the tv on, clean up whatever little mess was in the house, and head back outside for a little. I at least like to get a little bit of sunlight everyday. I wasn’t really taking the best care of myself, but I could just do this one little thing. It couldn’t hurt me anymore than I already was.

Maybe I could walk over to Ryker’s?

That was an insane thought. There was no way I could do it. Plus, he probably doesn’t even want to see me. He’s called so many times I forgot what number I was at. Why would he want to see me? I really haven’t been the best. At all. Though… I could at least try. I know where he lives. I’ve been there plenty of times to know. I really did want to see him too.

I grabbed my phone, zipped up my jacket, and started to walk slowly down the sidewalk. It was a long walk just to reach the small gas station that was close by their house. The sun was long gone, it was cold and snowing lightly outside, my face was freezing and my skin stung from the cold, but I kept on going. I was almost there. If he wanted to see me, he’d let me in and I could be warm again, have someone to talk to, finally be comfortable. If he doesn’t, then I’d be left out in the cold and get hypothermia unless I can make it back to my house in time.

In total, it took me nearly an hour and a half to reach their house. I stared at the huge door in front of me, shivering. This was a bad idea. This could either go really good, or end really badly. I guess there was only one way to find out.

I grabbed my phone with my shaking, ice-cold hands and called Ryker back.

———Ryker———

Everyone was gone on some overnight school trip. The entire district. It was to some theme park a couple hours away from here, and I didn’t really feel like attending. Actually, I haven’t even been going to school since I received that message. I’ve been hanging onto hope that Nathan would eventually answer one of my calls. He never did.

So now, here I was, watching a movie by myself in the living room. It was pretty late, but might as well finish off the movie. I was sitting down with a bowl of half-eaten popcorn when my phone started ringing. Probably just one of my siblings-

It was Nathan.

I freaked out, quickly pausing the movie and placing the bowl I had on the coffee table in front of me before answering.

“Hello?”

It took a while for Nathan to reply, but he did, and I was more than shocked.

“U-um. C-c-could you o-o-open your d-d-door?”

He just walked all the way from his house to mine. In the cold. While it was snowing. Of course I hurried to open the door, seeing the small being that was Nathan on my doorstep, shivering. I dropped my phone of the floor, scooping him up into my hand, hearing him let out a tiny squeak before I shut the door behind us.

I gave him a second to catch his breath, his chest quickly rising up and down. I apologized so many times as I slid down the door. Nathan did not look good at all. He looked skinnier, I could tell he wasn’t really taking care of himself. I waited for him to say something, but he was struggling himself just to find the words.

I wasn’t mad at him. Not at all. I’ve wanted to see him. I’ve wanted him to say for me to help him. Was this the time? I would do everything I could for him. Starting with making him something to eat since I’m positively sure he hasn’t been eating. I technically made a promise to his mom and I was not about to break it.

“Did… did you want something to eat?” I whispered. It took him a second to process what I asked him, but he nodded, and I couldn’t tell if he was shivering of trembling in my hand. I stood up slowly, guiding us to the kitchen and tilting my hand on the counter for him to get off. I grabbed a plate of leftovers I made for myself last night and started heating it up in the microwave. I watched with sympathy as he scooted his back up against the paper towels and dug his head into his knees. He felt bad.

“H-hey look, I promise I’m not mad at all. I understand why you didn’t answer my calls.” I tried to make him feel better. It’s not like I would lie to him. Nathan just shook his head, taking deep breaths to stop himself from crying. I bit the inside of my cheek, hearing the microwave go off. I took out the small container of chicken and rice and worked on making Nathan a small enough plate. I handed him the small pieces, offering a small smile as he took a bite.

I waited until he was full, seeing that he didn’t really eat much, but it was better than nothing. Then, went over to the living room to turn off the tv. Obviously he wasn’t going home tonight. He was probably exhausted anyways, and I never did get rid of those makeshift accommodations for him. I don’t think he really wants to be alone either.

“Do you wanna go lie down for a bit?” I asked, my hand palm up and ready for him to climb on. Nathan nodded his head, climbing on and sitting in the middle, a little warmer now. I closed the door to my room and turned on the lamp on my desk. I placed my hand on the nightstand for him to get off, but he didn’t Instead, he shook his head, grabbing as much of my sweater sleeve as he could and hung on tight. My heart fell. He just wanted someone to be there for him, and how could I deny him that?

I smiled, sitting down up against the head of my bed and just let him stay in my palm. He was hurting, and I couldn’t just leave him like that. That’s when he let go and pointed back to the set up I had on my nightstand.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I don’t mind. I get why you’re upset. I’ve been through the same thing.” His eyes went wide before shaking his head, “It’s not the same thing! I watched the doctors take her away. She said ‘I love you’ right before she went through the doors, and she never came out. She knew she wasn’t going back with me. I had no one waiting for me at home because my dad was also killed right in front of my face! I’ve been depressed and lonely for years, and I had no one. Did you have to watch your own parents die in front of your face? Were you alone after everything happened? No, because you had your siblings to help you!” He covered his mouth as I stared wide-eyed right back at him. He wasn’t wrong. I had people help me. Nathan didn’t. Which was why I wanted to help him. But the next words that came out of his mouth shook me to the core.

“Please don’t hurt me. I-I’m s-sorry.”

He brought his knees up to his chest and covered his head with his arms. My heart skipped a beat. He was afraid of me, and that just made me horrified. He never told me what happened to him before he moved here. He never told me why he was so afraid of giants. So, whatever had happened was obviously was affecting how he felt right now.

“What? No, never little guy. Why would I hurt you?”

“You’re not mad?”

I shook my head, “Not at all.”

I watched as he wiped away loose tears, sniffling them back and scooting closer to me. I braced myself for what I knew what was coming next.

———Nathan———

Once the tears had started flooding my eyes, there was nothing I could do to stop from crying in front of Ryker now. I bit the side of my cheek so hard the faint taste of blood filled my mouth. Don’t cry. Don’t cry, don’t cry. But my own words didn’t stop the tears from cascading down my face.

Ryker fixed my position in his palm while I struggled to wipe away the loose tears that were only falling down harder the more I kept thinking about the tragic events that have happened this past month. Why? Why’d she have to leave me here?

I was full on sobbing at this point. I had buried my face in Ryker’s hoodie to muffle the sounds of my cries. I could hear the faint sound of his heartbeat, I could hear his light breathing. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Ryker. Is what I wish I could say to him, but I currently couldn’t

Something warm pressed me up lightly against Ryker’s chest. I flinched, slightly turning my head to see that the pad of his thumb was offering some kind of comfort. It felt weird to me, but somehow I liked it? I didn’t want him to let go of me, but I was also scared at the same time.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m right here, Nathan.” Ryker whispered softly, noticeably trying to comfort me while I just cried and cried into the fabric of his hoodie. I’m sorry Ryker. I wanted to say it so badly, but I couldn’t. Why did he worry about me so much? I should be at home, alone, crying into my pillow. Why did he want to stay with an insignificant little human whose life somehow gets turned upside down every other month?

“I’m s-s-sorry.” I managed to say in between sobs. He lightly squeezed me against him before responding, “You’re the one who’s hurt, Nathan. You don’t have to apologize if I’m the one who wants to help you, okay?”

And I could practically hear the sad smile forming on his face as he continued to offer a comforting presence.

I quietly kept on crying, grabbing fistfuls of as much fabric as I could while feeling safe up against his chest. Was this what I needed? To be held just like this and cry and cry? It felt so good. I didn’t want Ryker to ever let go of me. The soft, warm touch on my back felt amazing.

“I-I miss her, Ryker.” I cried in between sobs.

“I know, I know. It’s alright,” He started lightly rubbing my back, making me slightly shudder, “Do you want me to let you go?” I quickly shook my head, sniffling while tears silently fell down my face. Please don’t ever let me go. I snuggled up closer, closing my eyes. This felt right. Nothing else could make me feel better.

“You okay?” He asked me. I nodded my head, hearing him chuckle above me. I missed both my parents. So, so much. Nothing could describe just how grateful I was that Ryker didn’t shut me out. I’ve never felt better than right now at this very moment. I don’t know what I would have done. Probably continue to starve myself until I eventually died. That was probably my initial plan, but I doubt that now that I’m with Ryker he’d just let me do that. Heck, the first thing he asks me is if I want something to eat, which I involuntarily nodded to. I felt safe when I was around him.

Ryker moved, but never moved me. He just laid down and just let me lay down on him. I smiled to myself, closing my eyes and just letting sleep take over me.

And it felt like the first real sleep I’ve had in ages.

——————

Please don’t hate me, I was just in an extremely angsty mood TwT. But hey, at least we get some comfort, right? Hahaa… (Please don’t hurt me)

I’m sorry this one took so long, it’s just I wanted to add a whole bunch of wholesome scenes. It was fun and depressing to write this, but everything’s all coming together. (Please don’t mind the many errors I was too tired edit it) Only a few more chapters and it’s done! Thank you guys for sticking with me on this ride, thank you all!

18 notes · View notes

oatbugs · 26 days

Text

procrastination is starting to have its consequences finally

#on my friends living room floor they love together but one of them has been london for weeks or maybe months #to be with her love. im on a foam mattress from one of their beds next to a glass bottle of water opened by one of them #in a mug given to me by another. the weather felt like my childhood today and it also felt like 2 years ago.#(put space in the heavens Einstein's idea and hes your friend too so nothing to fear) around the table they drank and laughed and i thought #i hope you keep growing so full with the love you receive . i hope your appetite becomes insatiable from how used to it you are #and i know youre all leaving soon but i hope one day you miss this and that youll be happy you miss it #its worth missing i think #i thought he didnt care but he said after exams hes going walk around this area over and over #(this is near where he lived and where we visited almost daily for a year)#(hed come across the bridge on a lake)#we went where she used to live and at the entrance a fox sat calmly. it just yawned and stared.#it felt important somehow. i think maybe their impressions of me will never be close to how i feel inside but i think #i love them enough for that not to matter. i dont think theyll ever know this. i dont think if they did it would change much.#and seeing them smile makes my heart glow anyway. today i tried their malaysian tea the ginger burned my throat #they warmed my heart. hes going to canada soon and hes going to the US soon and shes going everywhere soon ill never understand #how were supposed to live with memories and with seperation and with the past but we do it anyway so i think it doesnt matter much #i wanted to write a poem for the lab rats with the fibre optic wires lit with blue forcing them to turn around and around #something about how im sorry that the two photon arrays burned the inside of your brain. im sorry about the sharp points of multielectrode #arrayes. im sorry about everything we do to you. she asked to see me tomorrow. im trying to have self control but i miss her so awfully #last night my friend talked to me and i updated on everything that happened with love and the lack of it and she just started laughing #and she told me about the same thing from her side. and she told me about how she loved london because she would walk the streets #and she felt like the people were her. and her eyes would go over the people and the bag of bagels and the construction men they probably #have a kid at home maybe shes a daughter. this kid is crying for her mother and the building you just walked past caused #blisters and pain and people died in it and very likely people were born in it. we talked for hours and i felt like #i was holding her hand just like that time she held mine watching a horror film. i love her so much #my friend is a genius and i remember her picking up the charms of my phone and staring at the leaf hanging from them. shes side stepping to #music drinking dangerous cider and cocktails from a movie and chit chatting with billionaires and undergrads #i love her dearly. his head covered in electrodes. she tells me about a syrian guy shes in love with and she says #what you feel and what i feel is like cocaine. ive tried a lot of fucking cocaine.#she says ive reminded her of what living actually feels like and to never put energy into someone who doesnt see me this way.

23 notes · View notes

arvoze · 4 months

Text

you don;t get to learn about this one either (you will). if i tell you this thing is about death and murder you would have to trust me

#luwel #mike #my art #the only reason i never posted abt this one before is bc theres like.#a lot to work out.#its a murder mystery thing but the murder and mystery literally doesnt matter at all #and they both leave before the case even gets explored :sob:#its literally just abt mikes reaction to being in a dangerous enclosed space with somebody who he #cares very dearly about and doesnt know how to deal with it #bc he's been near death so many times and killed someone himself so he's like.#in an absolute nightmare realm. but he has to just liek .#unfortunately forces himself to put his own worries and stuff to the side #(luwel has not been anywhere as close to actual violence like mike has and detaches himself from reality to the point where he just .#thinks that everything is fake and a play and wants to get involved with solving it bc he wants to believe it's fake #and mike's like hey uh. no. this is real i Cannot let you out of my sight)#the last image is outdated btw its when his outfit was based on primarina instead of flapple #luwels was always based on serperior

20 notes · View notes

tswwwit · 1 year

Note

Did Bill not come to terms with his feelings for Dipper until he was forced to in Confessing It, or was it earlier in the series (even if he would never admit it)? Sorry if this is sorta implied, I’m not amazing with subtext. Rereading atm and I was curious lol

Actually, Bill (sort of) came to terms with having fallen for Dipper well before Dipper got his feelings sorted.

It's in Faking It chapter 15:

[Bill] glances up at Dipper. “You…. are the single worst thing that has ever happened to me. And I don’t say that lightly, you got no idea how old I am."

#answers #Bill still had a lot of struggling to do after that #But if you're looking for him accepting his feelings *this* was the moment #When Bill realized he'd fallen pretty far even though he couldn't make himself say or think the proper word yet #His thoughts on the matter are addressed in more detail in Chapter 9 of Hating It #Dipper liked Bill. Even when he was trapped and nearly powerless and in a shitty situation - Dip *still* respected and lusted after him #Not after position or power or wanting him to be different. Even knowing he wasn't remotely human!! He just wanted *Bill*.#And it goes BOTH ways #Dipper was most of the way there too but also trying REALLY HARD not to care about a demon at that point #Then a minute or so later Bill's cheering up attempt did the rest of the work #Dipper had stayed so strong. Fighting against this horrible yet compelling demonic force. No feelings here no sir it's a bad idea #And in the one moment he got weak. When he teared up. Bill got awkward and tried to perk *him* up #Both hilarious and relatable AND a moment where Dipper realized Bill actually in his own way cared about him #These idiots were never going to be able to resist someone who could see them at a truly low point and like them anyway #Confessing It is basically: Them Trying To Actually Talk: The Fic #They both already knew how the other felt #But actually Communicating about it like a functional couple was hard #All the very kinky smuts are canon btw #I like my absurd smut to have character development #And believe it or not #Amazingly they communicate well when both of them have the same fun goal in mind

86 notes · View notes

eldragon-x · 1 year

Text

thinking about that wretched triangle again

#*clenches fist* bill really is just. such a character.#like I think it actually matters a lot that hes not just a force of evil that drives conflict but a Person whose circumstances and choices #made him into the villain of this story. theres so much he has in common with the pines when you look at it but the way he deals with #things and interacts with people around him in ways that go against the themes and virtues of the show is why hes the main antagonist #at the core of it he really is a dark mirror to mabel and ford and stan #and it Makes Sense for him to be more than just an evil for the sake of evil because he is an embodiment of weirdness in a show about #accepting and embracing weirdness #and at the end of the day despite all the horrible shit hes done there is the axolotl willing to reach out a hand to him and give him the #chance to finally grow and leave behind his terrible methods #because at the end of the day hes not done himself any favours. he only isolated himself like ford did and chose to live in idealized #denial like mabel did but unlike them he has not grown and gotten out of it. but he may yet.#im so so normal abt him

24 notes · View notes

daz4i · 1 year

Text

if i may complain for a bit about something that doesn't actually matter and can be easily avoided. god i hate fics that baby-fy chuuya

#yeah yeah i know just don't read them w/e. there's no tags to avoid these unfortunately 😐#it kinda feels like a fanon of fanon. it's so far removed from his canon self even if some core elements are there.#why write him like a 15 y/o even as an adult. and the thing is. even when he was 15 in canon he wasn't this childish. c'mon.#a lot of the most popular skk fics have him characterized like this and man I'm tired. look how they massacred my boy.#ok complaining session over. i feel like i sound kinda mean. sorry abt that.#it doesn't actually matter that much just a bit frustrating when it keeps happening when you're already a couple hundred words into a fic #edit: i lied I'm not done complaining i gotta turn this into a rant bc ppl misunderstanding my favorite character online is a crime.#childish was the wrong word for me to use ig it's more like. innocent.#girl. bestie. he has been part of criminal organizations quite literally since he remembers himself.#he is not some sweet uwu baby who's a bit of a tsundere or w/e. he's got genuine reasons to be angry yknow. he's been through shit #and he's not innocent? he's in the fucking mafia lol we literally see him kill like 20 people in 5 minutes at 15 y/o.#he's not naive either???? he may not be dazai levels of smart but he's still capable of figuring things out himself????#like he did figure out rimbaud's thing by himself. he's not stupid or slow. he wouldn't be a mafia executive otherwise.#and that's also the reason he can't be naive like... he is in constant danger after all #and idk watering down all this^ for aus is boring and turning him into practically an oc but it's even worse in canonverse #or literally any au where he suffers the same amount as he does in canon. bc then what's your excuse for watering him down.#it feels like forcing him into this very clear cut mold you see in every media when he is literally. not that.#no one in bsd is honestly that's part of its charm imo. they all subvert your expectations of their character archetypes #i think this is why it's making me so angry bc it doesn't feel like just misunderstanding the character but also the whole story. in a way.#am i going too far? perhaps. i dunno. i do feel less Dirty after letting out this frustration tho.#complaining session is now officially over okay. yes. sorry. i don't mean to offend anyone sorry if i sound mean at any point.

10 notes · View notes

daydreamerdrew · 1 year

Text

Marvel Treasury Edition (1974) #25

#the Hulk’s not that great at understanding his own emotions in general #like he needs a lot of time and quiet space to work things out #but at the same time there are things that no matter how much time he has he simply isn’t going to be able to understand them on his own #and he needs help which he doesn’t actually get all that often #which isn’t something that he plays no part in #like oftentimes he takes the frustration of not understanding something and accuses the other person of intentionally trying to confuse him #and his awareness and acceptance of his own limitations is not consistent #like sometimes he understands that there’s a lot he doesn’t understand #but a lot of the time it’s everyone else around him that’s stupid actually #so I think that this kind of subtle/less domineering form of mind control is more interesting #than say someone just lying to the Hulk and outright tricking him into doing their bidding #sometimes those tricking stories can feel forced whereas this is more natural #marvel #bruce banner #peter parker #my posts #comic panels

4 notes · View notes

tiktaaliker · 2 months

Text

getting very close to the point I stopped back when I first saw the show (pretty sure I stopped around the end of season 2 because I got so pissed with how it was going I never bothered with season 3) so here's a non comprehensive list of things I completely forgot about that happens in the magicians

eliot's clay-golem and subsequent coma after the golem dies while he's possessing it

the whole cacodemon thing

Quentin gets possessed and almost killed by niffin-Alice

mayakovsky shows up again in season 2 and is like. Penny's mentor for a little bit

magic gets fucked up for everybody because ember took a shit in the wellspring

Raynard the fox's demigod son is a highly favored and successful us senator who has accidentally and unknowingly been using his extremely powerful innate magic abilities to win at politics

the temporary alliance between Julia and the Beast

ok circling back to the Alice possessing Quentin thing most of the time when they're depicting the possession it's with Olivia Taylor Dudley as just Alice with the understanding that everyone else sees Quentin but there's like a 10 second scene with like 1 line where it's just Jason Ralph and holy SHIT it's really good they should've done that more I love it when someone is acting as a different character pretending to be their usual character and it was pulled off soooo well for just those few seconds that I wanted to see more of it so bad it's not even funny. anyways

julia does war crimes against sentient trees

THE BANK HEIST EPISODE!!!!

I was going to end the list here but it won't let me delete this bullet point so I'll take the opportunity to say that I like Fen way more than I did back when I first watched the show. she's cool.

#howling #the magicians rewatch #btw I wonder how many of you have blocked that tag yet. lol #but yeah I think I blocked out a lot of season 2 #because I was just SO pissed that the one openly gay character got forced into a straight marriage #where due to magic he cant ever get out of it and can't be with anyone else ever again without risk of ACTUAL DEATH #and its all portrayed as Eliot 'growing up' and his attempts at getting around it are kind of depicted as being immature and Wrong #which is still. you know. fucking YIKES #and I still fucking hate it but the show is also just filled with fucked up and unfair shit happening to everybody in general #so i can at least acknowledge that it kind of tracks with what this show tends to pull #not happy about it but like. y'know.#there's literally an abortion subplot this season. whatever #<- these are also reminders that no matter what I say about this show I do NOT recommend watching the magicians #in fact I would actively discourage it entirely. dont do it. don't make my same mistakes

0 notes

supreme-leader-stoat · 8 months

Text

You're fresh out of college and looking for a job. Everyone is hiring. Nobody who's "hiring" is actually hiring. You finally get a call back from somewhere you barely remember applying to (though the voice on the other end sounds synthesized). You pull up the job listing again real quick. The company name and the fact that the listing is for "Minion" are kind of concerning, but you know what, you've interviewed with enough evil corporations by now, you can handle one wearing its true colors on its sleeve. At this point it's a matter of making rent or moving back in with your parents, and as much as you love your family, you can't imagine spending another summer dealing with your brothers' antics. You agree to the interview.

The man who greets you is an enthusiastic older German(?) man who's either way too into cosplay or just that committed to the bit, judging by the lab coat. He made cookies. The tray of cookies is proffered to you by a ten-foot-tall robotic caricature of a 50s businessman. You take a deep breath to calm yourself. You bite into one of the cookies. It's delicious.

You ask the boss about his business model. "Oh you know, a little of this, a little of that, I bounce from project to project a lot." He mentions that his end goal is becoming the undisputed ruler of the surrounding counties. "Really? Not the whole world?" you ask. "I like to set realistic goals," he replies.

As he gives you the tour of his "evil lair," ingrained instincts are screaming at you to report this guy to some kind of authority figure. You remember the salary. You decide that you can always bust him after getting your first paycheck.

The boss asks when you can start. Caught off guard, you say "tomorrow?". Your boss(?) says he'll see you then.

On the way out, you bump into your stepbrother's girlfriend. Your boss introduces her as his daughter. You both silently agree to sidestep the subject for now and act like this is your first time meeting.

You show up to your first day of work. Your boss is putting the finishing touches on a giant machine that was definitely not there yesterday. You are nonplussed. You ask him what it's for and he launches into a convoluted explanation involving his parents always forcing him to put his shirts on backwards so the tag was in front. You think he should probably talk to a therapist.

Your brothers' exotic pet breaks down the wall. You stare at him. He stares at you. Incredulously, you say his name. "Oh, good, you two already know each other!" your boss says. You mention that you used to live with him. "What? Perry the Platypus, you never mentioned having a roommate."

This is what I like to imagine Candace Flynn's life is like, post P&F.

24K notes · View notes

makoodles · 6 months

Text

ミmy daddy didn't love me so i guess i've moved onto you

🍓 pairing: captain john price x fem reader

🍓 tags: nsfw, daddy kink, undefined age gap, oral sex, unprotected vaginal sex, rough(?) sex, both reader and price have a daddy kink that they indulge in with very little discussion, allusions to reader having a bad relationship with her father (but nothing concrete), price uses a lot of pet names for reader and also calls himself daddy several times

title is inspired by the song peter bogdanovich by my queen CMAT

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

If there’s one thing you know, it’s that you’re damn good at your job.

You have to be in order to survive in this ridiculous goddamn base. There are protocols to be followed, risk assessments to carry out, weapons and equipment requisition requests to send off, and you have to handle almost all of it for Task Force 141. That’s one thing about working with the military – they’re all about action, and rarely have the patience to fill in their paperwork, and then when they do it’s never done properly.

You’re patient when you need to be, willing to push when you have to, and you make sure shit gets done. It’s not an easy job; you work your ass off, and it’s often thankless. Most of your job is done behind the scenes, whether that’s requisitioning on-the-fly tactical or strategic airlifts, liaising with other units, or trying desperately to smooth over any little problems that might crop up with the higher-ups.

It’s challenging and exhausting, and you love it, but damn, it can be fucking infuriating. Working in a male-dominated environment is a little bit soul-destroying, with every condescending comment and lascivious gaze that lingers over your body. But none of that matters, because you don’t need male approval to excel at your job. You don’t need male approval for anything.

You repeat it to yourself on the daily, which is something that you’ve never had to do before. But before, you weren’t working with Captain John Price.

He’s not… rude, per se. If anything, he’s always coolly polite. But it’s obvious, so obvious, that he just barely tolerates you. He’s gruff, short, to-the-point, and never speaks to you outside of brusque orders. It takes weeks for him to start trusting you with even the most basic of files, and even then chunks of information are often redacted. And it shouldn’t matter; you’ve worked for men like him before, you know how it goes, and if anything he’s one of the better ones.

In the beginning, when you had first been assigned to the task force, Price had not been happy about it. It had been a tough transition; your assignment had been approved by Laswell in order to take some of the strain of liaising off both her and Price, but the Captain hadn’t been too pleased about it. He had seen you as a sort of interloper, a silly little pencil-pusher sent in by the brass to do the grunt work of administration that no one else wants to do.

But you work hard, you always have done. And maybe… maybe, part of the reason that you end up busting your balls so hard is because you want– no. Maybe you need his approval. You’d prefer not to think about it; it’s easier to throw yourself into your work, and pretend that you’re doing it for you.

You’re not even sure how it started, but at some point, Price starts looking at you differently. Maybe he realises that you’re competent at your job, or maybe he just needs to get used to you. Maybe, you hope, he’s finally starting to realise that you’re good at what you do; that you can be an asset to the team, so long as they actually work with you.

Whatever it is, he eases off. Stops being such a hard-ass, starts giving you space to do your thing. Eventually, he starts delegating too — stops hoarding the work like a miser, and finally starts treating you like you’re capable of something more than just photocopying.

He’s not a bad boss, not by a long shot. He’s kind, determined, patient when it matters, with a wry sense of humour. He’s also fiercely protective over his team, and that includes you now.

But he’s also older, by at least fifteen years, and he’s not always the most diligent with paperwork. Typical man of action, you’ve seen it a hundred times before. There’s always something more important to do, and while he’s always so cognisant of your workload and careful not to add to it, he is also all too happy to let you take the reins when it comes to bureaucracy. You like to think that you’ve proved yourself to him, but maybe he just respects competency.

That should be it.

But you’re so ashamed to admit that even when Price stops treating you like you’re a hostile target, you can’t stop hoping for his attention. Your mental chants of I don’t need male approval for anything, I don’t need male approval for anything become a daily thing, and sometimes a several-times-a-day thing.

Because the thing is, Price can be a difficult man to please. He’s always so busy that he doesn’t have time to give you the approval that you’re straining for, but when he does it gives you the most shameful warm glow in your belly.

A brief nod or a low grunted ‘Thanks, sweetheart’ is enough to fuel you for days now. Even better is when you’re walking along beside him, briefing him on the latest update from the higher-ups, and he leans his head in towards you as he listens intensely, sometimes even laying his large palm against the small of your back. Ostensibly, it’s to lead the way and guide you out of the path of the running cadets, but it just toes the line of professionalism and you flounder under the touch.

It’s stupid. You’re stupid. He’s just a coworker, and you need to keep your issues to yourself.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

You’re perfectly self-aware enough to admit when you’re in a bad mood.

You start the day tired, and when you check your reflection in the mirror first thing that morning you’re greeted with the sight of a big, fuck-off pimple on your chin. It’s big, it’s throbbing, it practically has its own fucking heartbeat. You barely restrain the urge to pick at it, though you can feel it even when you’re not looking at it.

Your mood doesn’t improve when you get to the small kitchenette by your office and find that someone has used the last of the fancy French Vanilla flavoured coffee that you’ve stocked for yourself. As if that’s not bad enough, your little stash of chocolate digestives you keep for yourself for emergency bad days have disappeared too.

You clench your jaw and continue about your business. Whatever. You can survive without your coffee and chocolate.

Your resolve falters when you see the pile of paperwork on your desk, but whatever. It’s all part of the job. A little chocolate biscuit to nibble on would definitely make your job easier, but you’re a big girl and you’re just going to have to go without.

Then you get the phone call. One that makes you want to bang your head against your desk hard enough to knock yourself unconscious so that you don’t have to deal with this.

It’s time to update the TF141 personnel files. Orders from above, since there’s been significant changes to medical and surgical history in the last couple of months from injuries on missions.

Normally, that’s not such a big deal. It just involves updating their medical and technical files, making sure that nothing major has changed with regards their addresses or other personal information, even though a big portion of it ends up redacted anyway.

And, naturally, updating their photographs for their files.

You start easy.

Gaz is happy to come to your office when you text him, and he stands obediently for you as you take his picture. He’s gotten a metal plate fitted in his kneecap from the last time his file has been updated, and he sits and chats easily with you as you go through his information. He’s a sweet guy, and so easy to talk to, and you sigh with the knowledge that no one is going to make your job as simple and leisurely as Gaz just has.

After he leaves, you target Soap. He comes to your office as easily as Gaz, but he’s significantly more difficult to photograph.

He just keeps smiling, no matter how many times you tell him to quit it.

“It’s a personnel file photograph, not a photo for your Instagram.” You sigh, irritated. “I need you to have a blank, neutral expression. It’s like a passport photo, Sergeant. It’s for a government document.”

“Can’t help it, lass.” Soap says easily, that stupid grin not even dimming. “I see a camera, I smile. It’s muscle memory.”

You think that your irritation is only encouraging him, which only worsens your mood. In the end, you don’t get a single usable photograph of him for his file. You have to give up on him, swearing that you’ll come get him to try again later. He leaves your office still chuckling, like he thinks your frustration is cute.

You have tougher targets to tackle.

The difficult part isn’t even taking Ghost’s photo — the difficult part is catching him in the first place.

You spend almost three hours trying to track him down (because he won’t read your texts and your phone calls go unanswered), wobbling all over base in your stupid high heels and somehow missing him by mere moments every time. You arrive in the gym, the mess, the firing range, even the barracks, only to see the man’s enormous broad back disappearing out of the other door as soon as you get there.

You can only assume that Soap had given Ghost the heads up that you were on the prowl with a mission and a camera, because the lieutenant is avoiding you like the goddamn plague.

So yeah. You’re in a real bad fucking mood. But you can’t help it — some days your job is entirely thankless, and your mood drops so low that you feel like going home and crying. But you can’t, and you don’t want to show weakness in front of these military idiots, so all you can do is lock your jaw and go about your business the best you can.

You go back to your office, jaw and fists clenched tight, and collapse at your desk with your head in your hands. You have to take a few deep, slow breaths to try and calm yourself, but then you make the mistake of checking your reflection and your mood sinks lower again when you see that the stupid pimple on your chin has worsened.

God, this is just not your day. You have to get these stupid files updated, or it’ll fall on your head.

Eventually, you reluctantly stand up. There’s no point moping; you have a job to do, whether you like it or not, and your next victim is Captain Price.

You walk to Price’s office swiftly, your feet aching in your stupid heels. You wish you had worn something more sensible, but… well. Even subconsciously, you want to impress.

When you reach his office, you throw the door open and march inside without even bothering to knock.

Price is sitting behind his desk, and his head snaps up as soon as you walk in. His expression is set in a hard scowl, though it softens when he sees who it is. You guess you don’t exactly pose much of a threat, so he sees no use in posturing.

“I need you for a moment.” You bite out, allowing the door to slam shut behind you.

You hear Price sigh, before he leans back and settles into his chair, making himself comfortable. He’s wearing the same dark compression shirt that he usually wears for training exercises or to the gym, and he’s recently groomed his beard down too. He looks good, though it takes a colossal amount of effort for you to not notice, because you have other things you need to focus on right now.

“Hello to you too, love.” He grunts, wiping a hand over his eyes. “What’s the problem?”

You struggle not to react to that, his low voice both soothing and igniting something in your blood. You take a breath, try to calm down. You’re a professional, and you’re not here to embarrass yourself in front of the captain.

“I’m updating personnel files,” You say, and this time it comes out calm and steady, “I need to take a picture of you.”

Price’s gaze lingers on you, his stern brow softening a little. For a moment, you think that maybe this is actually going to be easy. That he’ll just stand up and take the fucking picture, so that the two of you can go back to your jobs and relax for the rest of the day.

But then–

“Jesus, kid.” He sighs, already shaking his head. “I’m up to my eyes right now. Leave it ‘till tomorrow.”

For a moment, you don’t react at all. You just stare at him, letting those dismissive words settle over you. He’s already looking back at his paperwork, mission briefings and maps littering the desk, and you feel so effectively dismissed. You feel small, so silly and stupid standing in front of him in a way that you haven’t felt since you first started working with the task force. You had thought that you were past this, that you had earned some meagre sort of respect from him.

“I need it done today.” You say, and your voice comes out a little hollow to your own ears.

You don’t need male validation. You don’t. But damn, you’ve had a rough day and the fact that your captain isn’t even bothering to look at you makes you want to cry.

Price sighs, and rubs at the crease between his eyes. He looks just as tired as you feel.

“Yeah, well. I don’t have time. Tomorrow.”

You swallow, pursing your lips. He’s so effortlessly dominant, which means that his careless dismissal stings all the more.

“I have to get the whole team done,” You say, struggling to keep your voice firm. “Soap wouldn’t stop smiling for the camera, I couldn’t find Farah anywhere, and Ghost–”

Price gives a sharp, derisive snort. “Forget Ghost.”

You scowl. “I need to do the whole squad.”

“Not Ghost.” Price repeats, this time slower and with more emphasis. “Simon doesn’t do photos.”

You take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. You’ve been working alongside the task force for a while now, and you’re familiar with Lieutenant Riley’s penchant for covering his face. It’s not something you have a problem with – usually.

“There’s no reason for him to be the exception to personnel photos, Captain.” You say through gritted teeth. “Everyone else is being photographed. The task force might be covert, but Lieutenant Riley is no more–”

“Christ, enough.” Price snaps, his voice a deep boom that has your mouth closing with a click. “The One Four One is my squad, in case you’ve forgotten. I know these lads, and I’m telling you to leave it out.”

You stare, a little taken aback by the harshness in his voice. He hasn’t been this sharp with you in months, not since you had started to prove yourself competent, useful. Now, you can see the warning signs of his bad mood; the circles under his eyes are pronounced, his skin dull in the ugly fluorescent lights of his office. He looks exhausted, his skin lined and dry like he hasn’t been drinking enough water.

You realise, a little too late, that you might have been pushing your luck by insisting on something as silly as personnel file photos. TF 141 had only returned from deployment at the beginning of the week, and Price has no doubt been drowning in reports since.

“This is why I told Laswell you weren’t necessary,” His snarl is entirely unlike him, and he rubs his face furiously, his palms rasping through his beard. “I don’t need someone coming in here and making demands of my squad for– for fucking photographs.”

You inhale shakily through your nose; to your utter horror, you can feel your eyes burn with hot wet tears. It’s stupid – you’ve dealt with far crueller words from far harsher men. The nature of your job often puts you in the firing line for frustration, and when it bubbles over it’s frequently directed at you.

But this… this feels different, for some reason. You’ve been working your ass off to try and earn some recognition from Price, to show him that you’re a valuable asset to the team, and so his sharp, frustrated dismissal of you cuts deeper than it should.

You hate that your eyes are burning like this. You don’t want Price to think of you as useless, or as the silly little girl who was put on the team by the brass who can’t even do her job right. He was just starting to think of you as competent, and it hurts your ego to have to go to him for help with something that you should be more than capable of handling yourself in the first place.

“Right,” You say, and even you’re startled by the sharpness in your tone. “Fine. Forget the file updates, then.”

You step forward, jaw clenched hard, and toss the files you’ve been carrying around all day onto his desk. They hit the surface with a smack that feels uncomfortably loud in the tense silence that’s fallen over the room.

“I’ll tell the higher-ups that you’re handling it.” You continue, your voice coming out brattier than you’d like. “Since obviously I have no idea what I’m doing–”

“Oh, don’t do that.” Price sighs, as though you’re the one being unreasonable. “What I’m saying is, if you’re going to work with the team, you have to understand the team–”

That, you think, might just push you over the edge.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” You snap out, and Price’s mouth closes. “D’you think I’m– that I’m some kind of idiot?”

Price blinks. It seems like you’ve managed to take him by surprise, as though your bad mood rivals his just enough to pull him out of his own grumpy form entirely. He opens his mouth again, but you’re not ready to hear him speak again just yet.

“I’m here because Laswell put in a request for me to work with you and your squad, Captain. I’m considered an asset to the teams that I work with,” You’re scowling thunderously, all the tension and frustration that’s been mounting all day spilling over. “And I don’t have to put up with being dismissed and unappreciated when I know that I would be respected in other squads for the work that I do.”

Price raises his hands, a frown creasing his brow. “Kid, that’s not–”

Usually, being called ‘kid’ by Price has a warm glow settling in your stomach that you’re absolutely not interested in examining, but this time it only lights an infuriated fire in your belly.

“Don’t!” You snap, your breath juddering unsteadily. “God, you think I enjoy being treated like an idiot? You think I haven’t had to deal with this from men my whole career? My whole life? Even my father–”

To your abject horror, a lump forms in your throat and you can’t finish that sentence. Your eyes are hot with unshed tears, and you’re pretty sure your lip is trembling.

Price stands, his stern expression slackening into something like uncomfortable surprise as he moves to step around the desk.

“Hey,” He soothes, lifting his hands. “I’m not your father.”

“I know that!” You snap, irate. You’re frustrated with yourself, embarrassed at what you’ve unintentionally given away. “I wouldn’t want you to be!”

Price’s expression flickers, as though he can’t decide quite how to react to you. You’re more than aware that you’re being childish, but you find yourself unable to temper your overreactions. In the face of your tears and your frustrated anger, Price looks like he’s at a loss.

“All I’ve done is work hard, and tried to take the burden off you to make your job a little easier.” You continue before he can interrupt again. “And all I get in return is stress, and my chocolate biscuits eaten, and breakouts, and– and–”

“Kid–”

“The only person who wasn’t an absolute dickhead to me today was Garrick,” You rage, on a roll now. “Everyone else has just been so– and look how bad my skin has gotten from the stress of having to deal with men who want to act like children–”

Price watches you with an expression that is plainly bewildered as you gesture at the stupid pimple that’s been throbbing on your chin all day. You don’t even think you’re making sense, too lost in your frustration and humiliation to be properly aware of what you’re saying.

“Your… skin.” He repeats, a little disbelieving.

You whirl away, agitated. You’re not getting your point across well, and Price must think you’re simply demented.

“Hey,” He says slowly, approaching from around the side of his desk. “I didn’t mean to suggest that you weren’t doing a decent job–”

“Whatever.” You mutter, running your hands over your skirt in an attempt to straighten out the creases. “Whatever.”

It’s too little, too late. He’s always been a bit of a hardass, and you’ve always tried so hard to please him, to impress him. But you can’t bear to make a fool of yourself like this any longer.

“I’ll leave the paperwork to you. Update it, or don’t. It doesn’t matter.” You say shortly, turning on your heel and marching towards the door.

“Wait,” Price calls out. His voice is firm, echoing with the grim certainty of a man who is used to being obeyed.

But you’re not one of his soldiers, and his command falls on deaf ears. Your skin is still prickling with humiliation; you don’t think you’ve ever been so desperate to get away from the Captain before.

“Sweetheart, just wait a minute,” Price says, and this time you can hear the exasperation in his voice. “I understand that you’re stressed, that’s normal. Everyone gets stressed in this line of work. But you can’t just go and get your knickers in a twist because some of the lads are bein’ difficult–”

“My knickers are none of your business!” You yell. Truthfully, it’s more of a shriek, high-pitched and unsteady enough to have Price’s eyes widening and darting towards the door as though worried about someone overhearing from the corridor.

“Whoa, okay,” Price says with the air of trying to soothe a spooked horse. “You're right. Your... knickers... ain't my concern. But helping keep this squad running smoothly is, and that can't happen if my admin is on edge."

“Oh, give me a break!” You’re beyond on-edge now, sailing right into fury. “You ignore me most of the time when you're not on deployment, you dismiss me when I’m just trying to do my job, but now you’re telling me you need me to not be on edge?”

You’ve reached the door now, your hand clenched tight around the doorhandle as you take one last moment to turn and look at him. He’s stepping towards you, no doubt with the intent to stop you before you can leave, but you don’t plan on giving him the chance.

“Kid, just hang on a damn minute–”

“Sort the files yourself, or do whatever you want.” You bite out, yanking the door open but pausing in the doorway. “I don’t even care anymore. It’s your squad, you do it.”

Price takes a breath, visibly fighting for patience. Truthfully, you don’t know how he hasn’t lost his head with you already. He was already exhausted and in an obviously bad mood when you had stormed in here, and it couldn’t be more obvious that you’ve just made it worse with all of your frenzied anger and borderline hysteria.

The fact that Price is staying calm and level even in the face of your stress-induced meltdown only makes you feel all the more ridiculous. You wish he would get angry, that he would snap at you like he had when you had first walked in – at least that way you could pretend that you don’t notice the way his stressed scowl had melted into a look of concern as soon as he had seen the tears welling up in your stinging eyes.

“And you don’t have to wear that stupid hat, we’re indoors!” You yell, your voice teetering on the edge of hysteria.

You just have enough time to see his hand reach up to touch the brim of his boonie hat before you hurriedly bolt out of the room, escaping into the corridor before he can stop you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

“— just thinking that maybe I’d be better suited with another team, that’s all. I heard Kortac’s liaison is approaching maternity leave—”

“That position is going to be filled internally,” Laswell’s voice is calm over the secure phoneline, a stark contrast to the shaky undertone of stress in your own. “Besides, organising a transfer like that is more trouble than it’s worth.” There’s a pause, then a sigh crackles over the phone. “You still haven’t explained what happened. As far as I can see, you were doing good work there.”

Yeah, you think sourly, because all you see is the paperwork end of it.

“... Internal conflict.” You mutter, playing with the fraying edge of your sweater sleeve.

There’s a long pause, protracted enough that it makes you squirm. You know what she’s thinking – in your line of work, it’s impossible to avoid clashing with some of the big dominant personalities who are used to getting away with whatever they want. But you’ve always been able to handle it, well-versed enough in diplomacy to know when to stand your ground and when to bow out to avoid unnecessary strife.

“Internal conflict.” Laswell repeats, her voice as bland as you’ve ever heard it. “Meaning?”

God, it feels like you’re disappointing your mom or something. You scrub a hand over your face, pacing in the living room of your small apartment.

“I know how it sounds,” You say, “But– they don’t want to work with me. There’s only so much I can do if I’m being met with resistance at every corner–”

“You’ve worked with resistant squads before,” Laswell interrupts. “It’s part of the job.”

“Yes, but…” You start, before trailing off.

She has a point, of course. It is part of the job. There’s no way to professionally explain to your superior that the reason this assignment is so difficult is because you have a mortifying crush on the Captain of the Task Force. It’s making you stupid, making all the stupid bullshit that you’re usually able to look past feel so much worse, especially because all you’ve ever wanted was Price’s approval.

Another sigh. This one, at least, sounds a little more sympathetic.

“Look,” Laswell says, and this time her voice is a little gentler. “I’ve never given you an assignment that I didn’t think you could handle. Whatever is going on, you need to sort it. You’re a capable girl, and the One Four One is far from the most difficult team you’ve had to deal with. There might be some big personalities there, but nothing that you shouldn’t be able to tackle.”

“Mhm.” You grunt noncommittally.

“Sort out whatever’s going on with you.” Laswell’s tone leaves no room for argument, her suggestion falling just short of a command. “If whatever issues you’re experiencing continue, I’ll talk to John–”

“No!” You blurt.

God, you can’t think of anything worse. You’ve already made a show of yourself in front of him, the last thing you need is for him to learn that you’ve gone crying to Laswell about the whole thing. You don’t want him to think of you as any more of a useless little girl than he doubtlessly already does.

“No,” You repeat, calmer this time as you clear your throat. “I’ll… sort it. Sorry to bother you with this, ma’am.”

Laswell hums, and you can imagine her eyes narrowing. Judging by the wind whistling in the background of the call, she’s not anywhere near her cushy office. You’ve interrupted her on whatever assignment she’s on, and she’s been kind enough to listen to your silly little complaints for at least fifteen minutes of her valuable time. You feel more ridiculous than ever, and you pinch at the bridge of your nose.

“... Right.” She says. “Fine. Keep me updated on the situation. I want a sitrep by the end of the week, understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You understand what’s not being said. Laswell expects you to work your own shit out, but you can hear the concern in her voice when she demands an update. All you can do is agree. Laswell has been by your side throughout your whole career, always having a hand in your assignments and your progression, and she’s always been an advocate for you and what you’re capable of. Now, after this conversation, you feel silly for getting so overwhelmed in the face of what is a relatively minor obstacle.

“Good. I’ll speak to you then.”

You hum, wish her goodbye and good luck, and hang up the phone.

For a long moment afterwards, you sit in silence in your living room. God, how did all of this spiral into such a mess?

For the last few days, you’ve been avoiding the base entirely. You have a few PTO days built up, and you’ve taken the opportunity to just chill out. It’s the first chance you’ve had to relax properly in months, since you had started working with the task force. The space is good, and it’s needed.

You get out of the headspace of work, and reports, and files and requisitions and debriefs, and instead treat yourself with full body self-care. You exfoliate, you moisturise, you use a hair mask, you take bubble baths. You even catch up on the trashy Netflix romance series that you had put on hold for ages, just waiting for some free time to indulge.

And you almost, almost, forget about why you’re hiding away in your little flat in the first place.

But your third day off creeps around, and you can’t help but feel as though your little bubble of isolation is about to pop. There’s only so much time away from the office that you’re able to swing, and the longer away the more you feel that your position on the team is untenable. No matter how you currently feel about the task force and your place with them, you’re not willing to let your hard work go down the drain just because you’re too cowardly to face them again after your little meltdown.

So, you go back to work after your little break away.

You manage to slink into your office mostly unseen, other than polite hello’s from other admin staff as you slip through the halls. Your office is far from prime real estate when it comes to office space on base – it’s well out of the way, down several corridors that no one ever goes down, and once you get past the main thoroughfares you don’t come across anyone. Even still, it feels a little like you’re doing a walk of shame, but you walk with your head held high before you finally get your office door closed behind you.

To your surprise, your desk is clear. Typically, any slight break away from your desk results in work piling up on it, just waiting for your attention once you get back. You don’t know what to make of the absence of work; you can’t help but wonder, somewhat uncomfortably, if Price had taken your words to heart and dealt with all of the paperwork himself.

You check the drawers of your desk too, just in case, and come up empty yet again.

Well. Okay, then.

You sign into your desktop, waiting for the encryption program to load before accessing your emails. There’s a lot to catch up on, so you spend the next hour or so organising your to-do list in order of urgency.

You get lost in making your little lists, allowing yourself to relax into finding order in your schedule. You barely even look up until there’s a soft knock on your office door, and by the time you’ve raised your head the door has opened and Farah has slipped inside.

“Oh,” You straighten up in surprise. “Commander. What can I do for you?”

It’s a surprise to see her, especially since you hadn’t received any email correspondence. Your office is tucked away down a remote corridor, and soldier’s usually prefer to just email you their requests rather than make the trek down.

Farah offers a polite smile, approaching your desk. “I hear you are taking photographs.”

Your smile slips a little. “Oh. No, actually, I wasn’t–”

“Captain Price said I was to be photographed,” She says, pulling the chair out opposite you and watching you expectantly. “I tried to find you yesterday, and the day before, but I believe you weren't on base.”

You shift, feeling abruptly rather awkward. “Right. I was– Price said that to you?”

“Mhm.” Farah leans back in the chair, her dark eyes alert as they track over your face. “He said that you have been stressed.”

You feel your face heat, mortified. Oh, god. How embarrassing. Has Price given the team a goddamn debrief on your little meltdown? Farah tilts her head as though she knows what you’re thinking, and a tiny smile quirks at the corner of her lips.

“That’s all he said,” She says. “That, and that we should try to make your job a little easier.”

“Oh.” You shift, embarrassed and awkward. “I– Listen, I had a… rough day at work a few days ago, that’s all. I’m not– things are fine.”

Farah just nods as though that’s perfectly convincing, and you find yourself wildly appreciative of her for a moment.

“So, then,” She says, and raises her eyebrows. “The picture?”

You can’t find a way to explain that you had thrown that particular responsibility right back at Price in a fit of pique, but it turns out you don’t have to. Farah produces a slim folder that you hadn’t noticed her holding, and you realise with another flush of embarrassment that it’s her personnel file.

“There wasn’t much to update, just a recent blood work test.” She says as she lays it on your desk.

“That’s… thanks.” You say weakly, taking the file in hand. You flick through it briefly, feeling something in your stomach squirm at the sight of Farah’s details all filled in – Price’s handwriting is unmistakable, the small neat blocky letters standing out amongst the messy scrawl of Farah’s medical report.

You dig out your camera, still a little flustered, and direct Farah to stand against your plain white-painted wall. She’s an easy subject to photograph; she stands perfectly still, unsmiling, and you get the perfect picture after only a couple of attempts.

“Lovely,” You murmur, flicking through the pictures. “Thank you.”

Farah hums. You’re expecting her to dismiss herself, and it takes a moment for you to realise that she’s still lingering. You glance up, blinking, only to find that she’s standing with her lips pursed, obviously considering something.

“The Captain is worried about you.” She says, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Is everything alright?”

You gape at her like a moron, camera still hanging loosely from your hands. You feel uncomfortably seen; there’s no way that Farah could know what happened, but she’s looking at you with an awful lot of sympathy right now.

“What?” You squeak.

“You fought?” Farah speaks slowly, obviously conscious of overstepping her boundaries. “I don’t mean to pry, it’s just…”

“No, that’s okay.” You say hastily. “We didn’t– there was no fighting, exactly.”

She just nods, as if you’re making perfect sense, then smiles politely. She gathers herself up and steps towards the door, and you feel your head spinning as she turns to go.

“You look tired,” Farah murmurs, low enough that you almost miss it. “When Price wants to fix things, let him.”

“Mhm.” You nod quickly without really hearing her. You’re pretty sure you’d agree to anything right now just to escape the knowing intensity of Farah’s gaze. “Yeah, of course.”

After Farah leaves, you feel like you need another day off. It’s all you can do to just sit in your comfortably padded office chair and groan like a moron, because Jesus Christ you’ve made such a mess of things.

It was bad enough when you were pining like an idiot from afar; you’ve had crushes before, and you know that you would have outgrown it eventually. But then you had your stupid little meltdown in front of Price, and revealed more than you intended, and all of a sudden you’ve made yourself into a fool in front of the squad you’ve tried so hard to impress these last few months.

You have to try hard not to spiral. In fact, it’s a challenge not to cave and grab your phone to call Laswell all over again to demand a reassignment right this second. You have a pretty good idea of what she’d say to you in response, but still, the impulse remains.

All you can do is put it from your mind. You potter about, printing Farah’s photograph so you can tuck it neatly into her file with a paperclip, and then decide to start replying to the many emails that have built up in your absence.

The emails vary in tone, from polite enquiries to not-so-polite demands for you to solve some administrative issues, and you sigh quietly as you respond to some of the more snotty messages from upper management. And if you’re a little bit passive aggressive, then you don’t think anyone can blame you.

Your mind has finally quietened, focusing on your work as the buzz of your thoughts settle down, when another knock sounds out from your door. This one is firmer than Farah’s soft knock from earlier, and a little louder, though this time you don’t look up from your screen.

“Come in.” You call, chewing at your lip as you struggle to keep the wording of your email civil.

You’re half-expecting it to be Soap this time around, or maybe one of the recruits hoping to get you to sign off on their leave. So when you finally glance up only to catch sight of the broad, thick-shouldered figure of Captain Price stepping into your office, you think you might go into cardiac arrest.

Email abandoned, you half jolt to your feet before changing your mind mid-movement and attempting to sit back down. It ends up being a humiliating sort of jerky motion, and you pray that he somehow missed it entirely.

“Captain.” You wheeze, your voice coming out a little weak.

Price’s cool blue eyes dart over your face and then down the length of your body, and you become suddenly, mortifyingly aware of the state you’re in. You might not want to admit it, but your wardrobe definitely changes when the Captain isn’t on deployment. Instead of professional trousers, you wear your tight knee-length pencil skirts and fitted shirts, and totter around in your heels. And it’s silly, but… well, you can’t help but notice the way Price’s eyes follow you when you dress like that, and you like his attention on you.

Except today, you hadn’t been planning on running into Price. You hadn’t planned on seeing anyone, so you had dressed for comfort — you’re wearing a pair of frumpy grey wool trousers and a super over-sized soft purple sweater that practically swallows you whole. You haven’t even done your hair nicely, and you curse yourself. This has to be the least sexy you’ve looked in months.

“D’you’ve a moment, love?”

His voice seems loud in the quiet of your office, even though realistically you know he’s only speaking in a murmur. In the quiet days you’ve spent alone in your apartment, you’d almost forgotten how lovely and low and gruff his voice is, and you feel your toes curl in your shoes at the sound of it.

It’s not as though you can refuse him, though you’re already embarrassingly aware of the way in which you had stormed off the last time you had seen him.

“Yeah.” You swallow thickly in an attempt to strengthen your voice, but it still comes out high and thready. “Sure.”

As if he had just been waiting for permission, Price steps into the room properly and closes the door behind him. All of a sudden, the room feels a little claustrophobic. Price is a big man, broad-shouldered and thickly built with a soft layer of fat cushioning those hard muscles, and you can’t help but feel as though his presence is sucking all of the air out of the room.

But still, he approaches slowly, like you’re some kind of feral cat. Those sharp eyes of his are still tracking over you; he never misses a beat, and you know that he’s taking stock of you in the same way he would for an enemy out on the field. You feel raw, uncomfortably vulnerable. You find yourself wishing wildly and ridiculously that you had worn your usual fitted shirt and pencil skirt, or at least put on a bit of makeup.

“You look rested.” He notes, coming to a slow stop just in front of your desk.

You suddenly curse your last minute choice to stay seated, because now Price’s big body is towering over you in a way that’s honestly making your head swim a little.

“Yeah.” Your voice is a little hoarse. “I guess.”

Price nods, inhales through his nose. A moment passes before he clears his throat and reaches out to place a handful of files on your desk. Despite the plain manila envelopes, you recognise them for what they are almost immediately; the personnel files for 141.

“Finished ‘em off for you while you were gone.” He says gruffly, as though it were no big deal. “Nearly had to nail Soap down to a chair for that damn photo.”

You stare at the files for a long moment, making no move to open them. You find yourself totally, utterly lost for words.

“This is–” You start to say, and truthfully you’re not sure where you’re going with that. You think you’re about to thank him, but he doesn’t really give you the chance to.

“Why don’t we talk?” He says, and motions to the dinky little couch in the corner of the room as if he owns it.

You hesitate a moment, a little peeved about the effortless way he takes command in your own office, but relent and push yourself up from the desk. You don’t make eye contact with Price as you step around him, walking to the corner, but you can feel his eyes on you all the same.

The couch had come with the office, and you don’t even really want to think about how old it is, but you sink down awkwardly onto it anyway. The cushions are worn and threadbare and the springs creak gratingly when you settle your weight onto it, but it’s fine. It does the job.

You’re half-expecting Price to drag the spare chair at your desk over so he can sit opposite you – you’re not expecting him to step right up next to you before he drops down next to you, sighing as his thick thighs spread wide.

You barely bite back a squeak, a little bewildered. You’re not surprised that he’s asked to talk to you. Your behaviour had been wildly inappropriate, and you couldn’t exactly protest if he’s decided to caution you or something.

But you had expected it to be a more formal affair; sitting together on the pathetic, dingy little couch in your office feels entirely too casual for the dressing down you’re sure you’re about to receive.

“Think we’re due a discussion about the other day.” He says, gentler than you had been expecting.

You avoid his eyes, though you can feel his stare boring into the side of your face. Ugh. Time to eat humble pie, you think miserably.

“I’m sorry, sir.” You keep your voice as dispassionate and prim as possible. “My behaviour was unprofessional and entirely unacceptable, and I have no excuse. It won’t happen again, I assure you.”

It’s as professional an apology as you can manage, and you chance a quick side glance at him to see his reaction. Your stomach sinks when you see that his brow is creased in a frown, and you panic a little at the realisation that your apology hasn’t helped matters at all.

“Well,” His voice is gruff enough to elicit a little shiver from you. “I wasn’t–” He clears his throat. “I wasn’t looking for an apology.”

That finally makes you turn properly, your eyes darting nervously over his face. He’s already watching you, his blue eyes searing under the brim of his stupid hat. He’s trimmed his beard since the last time you saw him; the salt and pepper bristles of his moustache and chops are neat and shortened. He looks good, though you try not to notice. He doesn’t look as dehydrated or drained as he did a few days ago either, though he still leans into the couch with an air of quiet exhaustion.

“Paperwork has never been my favourite thing in the world,” He confesses with an air of chagrin that’s painfully endearing to you. “Always found it a pain, to be honest. Puts me right out of sorts. I was… short with you, the other day.”

You frown, making yourself small on the couch. “You said I wasn’t necessary.”

Price winces, then reaches up and pulls his boonie hat off his head so that he can drag a hand over his short-cropped hair. Though you had insulted it only the other day, it strikes you as odd to see him with a bare head.

“Shouldn’t have said that.” He mumbles, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his hat hang from his hands. “You’ve been great these last few months. Don’t know what I’d have done without you, sometimes.”

You’re stupid. It’s the only reason you can think of to explain the way blood rushes to your head and turns your face hot, your whole body going hot and prickly in response to his low praise. You fidget, glance away, and pray he doesn’t notice.

“You know I’m no good at deskwork,” He says, and leans in a little closer like he thinks you’re not listening properly. “Don’t have the head for it. I think you’re the reason the team runs so smoothly in the first place, love.”

The flattery is being laid on a little too thick, but it works. You fall for it entirely, a warm glow settling over you like a blanket, wrapping around you tight and soothing the jagged edges of your anger and anxiety. You hate that you’re so easy to appease, a couple of sweet compliments and assurances falling from your Captain’s lips assuaging all that upset that you’ve been carrying around with you for days now.

But still, part of you isn’t quite willing to let go of the sting, the hurt that his words and his harsh tone had caused.

“Is this you apologising, then?” You ask, watching him from the corner of your eye.

He smiles, close-mouthed. “Yeah. It is. Not doin’ too good, am I?”

“You’re doing okay.” You murmur, before deciding to try to be a bit cheeky. “But you can keep going, if you’d like.”

Price laughs, rich and warm and low. You don’t think you’ve ever actually heard him laugh in all the months you’ve been working with the task force, and the sound of it rumbles right into your bones, settling something inside of you and finally allowing you to relax. No longer tense with stress, you melt a little into the corner of the couch.

“Shouldn’t have snapped at you,” He says slowly. “You do good work. Great work. You shouldn’t feel like you’re not a valued member of the team.”

You swallow thickly. You feel too warm, your head swimming a little. His attention feels too heavy, heating your blood and going straight to your head.

“I overreacted,” You mumble reluctantly. “I shouldn’t… your hat isn’t stupid.”

That gets another bark of laughter out of Price, and he slaps a hand down onto your knee. The contact makes you jolt, eyes widening, but Price’s hand doesn’t shift. His palm is so large, spread across your thigh as his fingers curl over your knee. The touch feels almost scorching even through the thick fabric of your trousers.

All of a sudden, your tongue feels very thick in your mouth. The hand on your knee is not in any way suggestive; it’s chaste, innocent, just resting there like a reminder that he wants your attention on him (as if it could be anywhere else). But your nerves are jangling all of a sudden, every one of your senses straining towards him as you hold your breath.

“The hat isn’t the problem,” Price mutters, though you barely hear him. “I wanted to ask you about something else you said, love. Something you said about your father.”

That has some of the heat in your veins cooling, your eyes blowing wide. “I– what?”

To your bewilderment, Price’s cheeks have reddened beneath the whiskers of his beard and moustache. Despite his clear chagrin, he doesn’t break eye contact with you, his thick fingers squeezing cautiously around your knee.

“Don’t mean to overstep,” He assures you quietly. “And– and don’t mind me if I’m talkin’ nonsense. But I know that you’ve been working so hard, and you’ve got a tough job. Can’t be easy. And I just wanted to say that if you'd like some… guidance – someone to steer you on the right path, that is– well, that I’m here if you ever want to talk."

Oh god. You feel your mouth go dry.

It’s funny, because even though Price isn’t even yet forty, he’s always seemed so much older. Maybe it’s the weight of the responsibility that he carries on his shoulders, or the battle-hardened icy blue eyes, or the paternal sense of protectiveness that he shows over his team. He’s always been like an almost father figure for the squad, regardless of age; you’ve seen the way he’s so protective over Ghost, the way he claps Soap on the back or shoulders in praise to boost him up, the way he beams with pride when Farah excels, the way he always makes time to guide or give advice to Gaz.

It’s sweet. He’s always been sweet, so aware of the personalities on his team, even when he’s acting like that typical military authority figure.

"Sounds like you want to be my daddy." You mean to say it in a derogatory fashion, laughing as though it's ridiculous, though when it comes out you can hear that it’s missing some of the sarcasm you had intended.

Price reacts instantly. He reels back, eyes widening, the pink in his cheeks flares into a deep red flush, and you see his chest heave as his breath catches. You hadn’t been expecting a reaction like this; Price looks as though the words have hit him like a physical slap.

“Jesus. That’s not–” He says, and the gravelly hoarseness in his voice is a shock. “That’s not what I meant.”

There’s a moment of charged silence. Fuck, what have you done? Why would you say that? Why would you say that, to the captain of your task force? Hadn’t you embarrassed yourself enough in front of him the day you had had your silly little meltdown? It’s like you just can’t keep your damn mouth shut around him, like your brain turns to mush the second he looks at you and you just lose the run of yourself.

“I’m sorry.” You blurt. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know what– I didn’t mean it.”

The next silence is even worse than the last, tension humming between you like a live wire. He’s so close to you that his scent fills your nose – a blend of sweet cigar smoke, sharp gunpowder, and a heady masculine musk. You feel so fucking stupid, and more than a little panicked. You don’t think you could survive the humiliation of having to call Laswell and beg for a reassignment twice in one day just because you’ve completely humiliated yourself in front of the Captain again.

Price swallows, the sound painfully loud in the silence.

“Right.” He says slowly, before coughing roughly to clear his throat. “Mm. ‘Course. I didn’t mean to– perhaps I overstepped. Since you mentioned your father–”

“I don’t want to talk about my father.” You say swiftly.

God, you feel like your issues are out on display with a big damn spotlight. You feel so pathetic, so damn pitiful, as though your desperate need for approval and affection from an older male authority figure is written across your forehead.

But if your issues are on display, then so are Price’s, because you can’t help but notice that the vibrant red flush on his cheeks hasn’t faded. If anything, that deep flush has spread down his throat and over his chest; you can see how the skin that’s stretched over his pectoral muscles is glowing crimson beneath his shirt.

A niggling boldness begins to creep in, and you find yourself straightening on the couch. You turn, bring one of your legs up on the couch so that you can turn your whole body towards him, one of your elbows resting on the back cushion of the couch.

Price’s eyes sharpen when your body turns towards him, and his body draws tense. Those cool blue eyes dart over you, and you’re surprised to see heat in them despite your oversized purple jumper and unflattering wool trousers. The whisper of his fatigues brushing against the fabric of your own trousers is both a distraction and an invitation, your thighs sliding surreptitiously against each other.

“What if I did mean it?” You blurt out before your courage can flee you.

Price goes so still it looks preternatural, even the breaths in his chest slowing.

“Kid.” He says, and it sounds like a warning.

You don’t heed it, adjusting yourself so that you’re shuffling closer yet again. You don’t think you’ve ever been so close to him, his scent and his body and his heated gaze filling up your consciousness until he’s all that you’re aware of.

“What if I meant it?” You ask again, the whisper coming out low but charged.

Price takes a breath that sounds like a groan, and it surprises you. You hadn’t expected that reaction; it sends a trickle of heated desire running down your spine, and you’re startled by how much you want him in this moment.

“D’you know what you’re asking for?” He asks, the gravel in his voice flooding wet heat between your legs.

His carefully laced words linger in the space between you, daring you to accept, to shred the formal boundary that looms between the two of you. You get the sense that you’re walking a fine line here, that you’re getting close to the point of no return.

“Yes.” You breathe, although you’re not entirely sure that you do know what you’re asking for. All you know is that he’s so close, and he’s staring at you with an expression of such hunger that it’s making you feel weak.

Price moves fast for such a big man, and all you can do is let out a soft sound of surprise when one of his big hands wraps around the back of your neck to pull you in. A deep, guttural sound escapes him when his lips crash into yours, his mouth demanding and greedy.

It feels like you go both lax and rigid simultaneously, before you positively light up. The hand that Price has wrapped around the back of your neck keeps you grounded, and before you can stop yourself you’re burrowing closer. It feels like the tension, your childish argument, the sexual friction – everything has culminated to this electrifying moment, where Price’s full lips are consuming yours, the hair of his beard rubbing over your cheeks and chin and keeping your nerves straining towards him.

The kiss doesn’t start out slow; it skips straight to hungry, fast and dirty, with Price’s big hands on your hip and the back of your neck, holding and guiding you. Overwhelming.

Price’s big fucking body is leaning in, caging you against the couch. The wide shoulders and barrel-chested mass of him pressing you into the cushions is just short of breath-taking, but it’s not enough. You want to be right up against him, under his skin.

You swing your leg over Price’s, and climb up into his lap. His thighs are thick beneath you, wide and muscled, but you’re still hesitant to fully settle your weight against him. You just want to be closer, to feel the heat of him pressed against you, but the second you start moving Price grabs at your hips and pulls you down properly, uncaring of your weight.

“I’ve been–” You manage to say in between kisses, your words muffled and a little wet. “I’ve been working my ass off, for the squad, for you, and you never say or do anything–”

Price grunts, grappling with his sudden lapful of you. His eyes meet yours, and in them, you think you might see the spark of admiration, for your brave stupidity if nothing else.

“Sh, I know,” He says as he grips at your hips under your oversized jumper, encouraging you to settle down your full weight on his thighs. “I know, love, you’ve been working so hard. What would I do without you, huh?”

And the thing is, you’re a very capable woman. You’ve had to be, in order to survive in your line of work. You know that you’re capable, you know that you do good work, you know that you help keep the wheels greased and everything moving behind the scenes for the 141, but even still, Price’s praise sinks into you like warm honey.

“Watching you walk around in those tight little skirts, Christ.” He hums, and his big palms land on your ass and squeeze there suggestively. “And those heels– completely impractical for a military base like this.”

You wheeze a laugh, clutching at his shoulders. It feels completely surreal that you’re currently perched in your Captain’s lap, with his big shovel-like hands groping your bum as he nips at your lips and confesses that he’s been watching you. It goes straight to your head, makes you dizzy, makes you wish wildly that you had worn one of those skirts for him today.

Oh, you could get used to this. Realistically you know the size difference between you two isn’t that immense, but Price is built like a man whose reality is all war, and when he shifts beneath you his muscles roll, unwittingly showing off his physique. You think you could stay here forever, feeling safe in a big man’s lap, cushioned by his body as he tells you that you’re valuable, and important.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Price groans, nipping at your lower lip before capturing your mouth wholly again. “You’re a handful.”

You’d love to argue that – you like to think that you’re perfectly measured and sensible, after all – but you’re already squirming in his lap, your legs spread wide over his thighs. Arousal pools in your stomach, makes you slick your knickers, and you can’t stop the slow grind your hips trace against his thigh.

Price’s breath shudders out of his chest, and his hands clench tight around your hips. “Hang on a sec,” He breathes, “Hold on. I’m still– I’m still your Captain–”

You think that it’s meant to be a warning, or at least a word of caution about the precarious situation you’re in regarding professionalism and inappropriate workplace relationships. What you’re doing right now is ridiculous, after all. You’re still on base, you’re in your office, and if the two of you get caught you don’t even want to think about the consequences. The fraternisation rule shouldn’t apply here, since you’re only considered part of the team by a mere technicality, but even in your lust-hazed mind you can still recognise that sitting on his lap and kissing like this at your workplace is wildly inappropriate.

But if it is a warning, it doesn’t work. The reminder of his authority only inflames you further, and a quiet whimper is torn from your throat when you rock against his lap.

He swears, and beneath you his cock stirs in his fatigues. You can feel the way it fills out where it’s pressed against the seam of your trousers, right between your legs. You reflexively squish your thighs together, tightening them around his hips.

“Christ,” He grits out like a curse. “Alright, then.”

He moves quickly, his hands secure on your back as he lunges forward, flipping you over so that you’re laying on your back on the shoddy, worn-down couch. You go so easily –

you’re soft now, pliable and eager to please, and he could direct you anywhere he wanted.

He’s too large to be climbing on top of you on a couch like this, but somehow it doesn’t even matter. Now that he’s above you, holding himself up with those strong arms on either side of your head, he looks down on you with an expression that you don’t know what to make of. His eyes are still intense, but the lines around them are softened as he stares down, his gaze tracing your face.

“You think I haven’t been looking?” He asks, and his voice isn’t as harsh or gritty as you’d been expecting. It’s softer now, fond, almost. “How could I fuckin’ miss you? Always so pretty, always workin’ so hard. ‘Course I noticed.”

When his fingers creep beneath your big purple jumper, you launch into helping him remove it, eagerly stripping it off so you’re laying in your bra. It’s one of your simple utilitarian ones, and you curse yourself for not wearing a sexier one.

But Price groans at the sight of your simple white cotton as though it’s premium lace. His palms are rough as they trace up your sides, the callouses on his fingers coarse against the soft squishy flesh of your belly. He leans forward and nuzzles at your ear, kissing behind your lobe before scraping his teeth along your jaw until he’s kissing messily at your mouth all over again.

“So gorgeous.” He says, his voice a low rumble that has your nerves buzzing. “I was too mean to you before, wasn’t I? Too harsh, when all you were trying to do was help.”

“Yes.” You whisper, though you feel a little bit petulant for it.

“Let me make up for it, darling,” He whispers back, and it sounds like a plea. “Hm? I’ll show you how good you’ve been.”

You’re nodding before he even finishes, desperate. God, yes. You’re not even sure what it is that he’s offering, but you know that you’ll take anything that he has to give you.

He’s looming over you, so large, as his hands fall to the closure on your work trousers. His fingers are so thick that he fumbles with the delicate button and little zip, and it takes him a couple of tries to pull it open and down. When he’s got it, he shucks your trousers off easily and tosses them aside, then stares down at you in your ugly shapeless underwear as though you’re wearing something else entirely.

Even though you’re laying unclothed and vulnerable, squirming and wanting, Price is so slow to get moving. He doesn’t grab at you, or grope greedily, or take impatiently. He acts as though he’s got all the time in the world, leisurely looking you over as though he’s committing you to memory.

“Need you to say it,” He says, strained like he’s trying to hold himself back. “Need you to say it out loud.”

“Want you to show me how good I’ve been.” You say immediately, your desire leaving no room for shame. “Want you to look after me.”

The request comes out a little bit plaintive, and Price sighs out before ducking his head and kissing you again. He’s so much more affectionate than you had ever imagined, and you feel as though you’re drowning in it. His attention is like a warm blanket, settling every craving you’ve ever had.

“I will,” He breathes like it’s a promise. “Oh, I will.”

His palms are rough and hot as they drag over your skin, deceptively gentle as he reaches your tits and pushes your bra up so that he can knead at the soft flesh there. He doesn’t even bother to unclasp it, impatient enough that shoving the cups up so to free your breasts is enough for him.

He bends his head down, and licks a stripe over your nipple. His tongue feels scorching against you, like you’re hypersensitive to his touch, and he groans against your skin as though he’s tasting something incredible.

You writhe, hips arching up in search of some kind of friction, but Price doesn’t give it to you. He’s too distracted, peppering dozens of kisses over your tits as though they’re something precious even as his hands coast down your back to grope at your ass again where your plain cotton underwear is riding up.

“So pretty, ain’tcha?” He groans against your chest. “Fuck, even when you were walkin’ around with a face on you like a slapped arse, I thought you were the sweetest fuckin’ thing I’d ever seen.”

“Charming.” You snap, but there’s no anger in your tone anymore. In fact, you don’t think there’s a lick of anger anywhere in your whole body anymore, like Price’s hands and mouth on you have washed it all away.

All the brattiness, and the prickliness of your bad mood, is entirely forgotten now that you’re laid out and squirming beneath him. You can hardly even remember what you had been so stressed and angry with him for.

He finally reaches around to unclasp your bra, then tosses it to the side to let it slump sadly to the floor. His next target is your underwear, pulled from you roughly enough that you think the fabric might tear even as his hands cradle the plush flesh of your ass like it’s a treasure.

“Mm, so gorgeous, princess,” It seems like the name just slips out of his mouth, and you feel your whole body draw tense and hot. “So lovely, and I bet you taste even better than you look… like sugar, my sweet girl.”

Jesus Christ. You think your whole fucking body throbs, blood pounding and nerves straining as you wish so desperately for him to touch you. You can’t handle him talking to you like that, so fondly, as if you haven’t just acted like the biggest brat in the world for several days straight.

You can hardly even reconcile this man with the usual stern, gruff man that acts as your Captain, and you let out a choked whine of bewilderment as he slides down your body.

Your thighs are clamped together, shy under his gaze despite how desperately eager you are. You want this, you want him, but you can’t help but feel so mortified by the vulnerability of being nude beneath him on the couch while his big formidable body is still entirely clothed.

Price’s fingers stroke against your hip, his tone low and rich as his lips find your throat again. You can feel his tongue darting out against your skin, his hunger so palpable now that it’s infectious.

“Let daddy see you,” He croaks against the hollow of your throat. “Spread your legs, sweetheart.”

It’s not like you could ever say no to that. The request sends liquid heat shooting straight to your cunt, making you hot and sticky. You spread your thighs, and feel embarrassment flare when there’s a squelch as your cunt unsticks. And– Jesus, Price’s eyes fucking light up, and you realise that he’s clocked your reaction to his honeyed words, the way he calls himself daddy.

The kiss he gives you is claiming and hungry, consuming your lips with a fervour that leaves no room for doubt about his intentions. It’s a taste of both command and reverence — in equal measure. When he pulls away from your mouth you’re breathless, still gasping softly even as he pushes himself down the length of your body.

In the blink of an eye, he’s there — between your welcoming thighs, his hands resting securely on your soft hips, as much a lifeline as a promise of what’s to come. Your pussy is already sloppy, slick and wet in anticipation of him. He shoves his head between your thighs, using his thumbs to spread apart your folds and just look at you.

Your back arches at even the suggestion of his touch, feeling his breath ghost over the heated slick flesh of your cunt. Despite your obvious willingness, and his apparent eagerness, he doesn’t immediately touch you.

You crane your neck to see that he’s staring at your pussy as though the sight of it is earth-shattering. His gaze drinks you in, heated blue eyes taking in the sight of your swollen sticky folds, no doubt throbbing invitingly under his attention. You’ve never seen a man look so hungry, like he’s about to risk anything for it. A dark, groaned "fuck" escapes him as he kneels between your spread legs, head bowed as if in reverence.

"Daddy needs a taste, sweet girl," His deep voice a heavy rumble, vibrating against your soft inner thighs.

It takes a beat for you to realise that he’s holding himself back, that he’s essentially asking for permission to lay his mouth on you, but then you gasp, “Yes, fuck, yes, please–”

Price takes it as the enthusiastic invitation that it is and bursts into movement immediately, reaching out and guiding your legs wider so that he can muscle in between them properly, before leaning in and finally getting his mouth on you.

You choke, hips aching as you try to spread your legs even further. Price drags the flat of his tongue along the seam of your cunt, groaning as though he’s savouring the taste of you, before wrapping his arms around your thighs to keep you all spread open for him as his tongue rasps over your sensitive flesh.

You want to call out for him, but his name stalls on your tongue. What would you call him – Price? John? Captain? Daddy? You think you would die if you said it out loud.

Then his tongue finds your clit, and your thoughts scatter. He flicks the tip of his tongue over you, back and forth, then flattens it to grind eagerly. You had thought, given the way he had taken that moment just to look at you before he’d pressed his mouth to you, that he would start slow. But instead, he gives you everything he has.

You cry out as he devours your cunt, his bushy eyebrows pulling up in delight as you give him your first moan. While your legs had spread wide in the beginning, eager to let him in, you now close them tight around his head to keep him in place. You have a brief, hazy thought that maybe this is an asshole move of you, a little like if a man were to hold your head down while you were sucking cock, but Price doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, judging by the snarl he lets out when your thighs close around his ears, he likes it.

You toss your head back against the worn couch cushions as jolts of white-hot heat spread from where his mouth is working at you, playing with you, tongue painting long, broad strokes up and down your pussy.

Your cunt is syrupy hot, throbbing as his tongue rubs relentlessly at your clit. You’re so fucking wet, and you can’t help yourself from rolling your hips more assertively into his mouth. You’re leaking on his mouth, his tongue, your slick drenching his cheeks and his beard.

Seized by a sudden urge to watch, you clumsily raise your head so you can look down. It feels entirely illicit, watching Price’s head between your legs as he buries his face so enthusiastically into your folds. His eyes flash as he glances up, the bottom half of his face hidden entirely in your pussy as his jaw works, the soft hair of his beard tickling your sensitive inner thighs.

With a jolt, you realise that one of his hands has fallen to his lap, his trousers hastily pushed open. He’s fisting at his dripping cock, red and angry and still begging for release against the thick dark hair of his stomach. Sticky pre-cum leaks from his flushed head, pooling into his skin and clothes as his cock bobs and twitches at the sounds of your moans.

The sudden realisation that Price is getting off on this, on the taste of you and the smell of you and the way you’re whining, sets you aflame. He grunts, one of his big hand’s wrapping around his throbbing skin to pump his length to the rhythm of his tongue inside of you.

“Oh, oh fuck,” You press your lips together, stomach pulling tight as his tongue thrusts up inside of you, “Fuck, fuck, fuck that’s so good, oh god, Captain–”

“Yeah,” Price grunts, his words all wetly muffled, his arms wrapped tight around your thighs to keep you in place as he feasts on you, sucking on your clit like it’s a sweet. “I know, baby, I know.”

He’s so accommodating, so nice to you. You tilt your hips up and grind your cunt into his mouth, sighing in satisfaction as his tongue drags along your clit before dipping to lick inside of you. He barely even shifts when you hump your pussy into his face; he only opens his mouth wider, licks at you more enthusiastically as though your desperation is contagious.

Your belly goes hot and tight, and a high-pitched whimper is torn from your throat. It feels as though you’ve been strung high and taut for months now, and your breath catches at your imminent orgasm. You’ve just been so stressed, and having Price hunched over you on the couch like this with your legs thrown up around his shoulders as he licks and sucks at you so eagerly that it has your eyes rolling in your head feels like it’s curing you.

You think, somewhat madly, that an orgasm like this, with Price’s mouth sealed over your cunt, will solve every damn problem you have right now.

“Wanna come, wanna come, Jesus fucking Christ, please please–” Your chest heaves as you scramble, one of your hands reaching down to cup Price’s head to keep him in place, face buried in your cunt. “Oh god, please make me come–”

Maybe it’s not fair to be so demanding of him, but to his credit Price responds with restless enthusiasm. You double over in pleasure as he heeds your broken little pleas, your nails scraping into the couch as you cling on for dear life. His tongue swirls over your clit quickly and with fervour, tight circles to make your vision go blurry.

You’re lost in the sensation of his hot, wet mouth in your cunt, the way he licks into you like a starving man tasting his first meal. It feels like a sensation overload, as though you’re just completely lost to your own desire, but you just want more of what he is offering.

You grab his hair again and pull him closer, greedy with need, and he hums in affirmation as he allows you to guide his mouth to exactly where you need it. Arching your hips up, you grind into his mouth, chasing your orgasm. You groan, eyelids fluttering as you wrap your other leg around Price’s shoulders, up around his neck, and his hand snakes around your thigh to anchor you there.

Price’s fingers are gripping at your hips, surely hard enough to leave bruises there. You smile, almost deliriously; you could live with some souvenirs from tonight.

Your feeble gasps start to spiral into whimpers as that hot coil begins to tighten in your belly, and your toes start to curl. When your climax finally hits, it does so with a sense of relief that almost knocks you flat. Your body winds tight then releases, and you convulse in a wave of shudders that has you sobbing out loud.

Your chest heaves as you sob, squirming as Price licks at your clit insistently. It feels like your breath has caught in your chest, your toes curling so hard that your feet cramp. You’re panting like a damn dog as your orgasm rocks through you, until the waves of it subside and you can finally get a full breath again.

From one second to the next your nerves turn red-hot and oversensitive, and you clamp your thighs shut around Price’s ears and whimper-whine pathetically. Mercifully, he gets your unspoken message easily, and finally pulls back, chuckling breathlessly to himself as he pushes your legs apart in order to retreat.

“Fuck,” He says, and his voice comes out as harsh and gravelly as you’ve ever heard it. “Jesus Christ. Knew you’d taste sweet, knew that you’d come so pretty.”

The praise practically slams into you, ripping through you like a forest fire. It feels like you’ve lost your breath all over again, and ridiculously you suddenly feel shy.

“I–That–” You start to say, but you still feel a little fuzzy-headed from your orgasm and your thoughts fizz away like TV static.

“Mhm, I know, sweet girl.” He murmurs hoarsely as though you had said something coherent.

When Price finally sits up, you blink hazily. He had been all hunched over you, crammed into the corner of the couch in order to squeeze himself between your thighs like that, but now that he’s straightening back up again you’re reminded with a tired jolt just how big and broad and strong he is.

A small, self-conscious part of your brain screams at you to close your legs. Your thighs are still spread wide, your cunt on display; you’re still all sloppy and wet, spit-slick and dripping, all puffy from the attention Price had lavished on you with his mouth.

But instead of closing your legs, you let your thighs fall open a little wider and shift restlessly under his intense gaze. Your desire makes you stupid – how could you ever experience anything as mundane as self-consciousness when he’s staring at you like that? He’s looking at you like he wants to fall atop you all over again, and you feel yourself throb – you feel so empty, your body craving something to fill you.

And Price notices the way you keep yourself all spread for him, the way you don’t make any move to cover yourself. Beneath his beard, his face splits into a wide smile, the apples of his cheeks practically glowing with pride.

“Oh, my girl, you're so pretty. Just the loveliest girl in the world with your beautiful face and your hair all wild like that.” He leans in then, and presses a hungry kiss to your mouth. He tastes salty-sweet, the iron tang of yourself lingering on his lips. His beard is wet too, practically soaked through.

You gasp when he pulls back, overwhelmed by the kiss and the praise and the electric aftershocks of your orgasm. “Your beard is wet.” You observe dumbly.

He chuckles, as though you’ve said something terribly endearing. “Of course it is, sweetheart. That’s all you.”

You mumble a little incoherently, mostly because you’ve just spotted the way his trousers are still unbuttoned and his hard, swollen cock is jutting out from the band of his boxers. It’s angry looking, the head of it so red it looks a little painful, and you feel a sudden urge to return the favour seize you.

But when you reach out, Price is quick to grab your wrist. He transfers his grip to your hand swiftly so you don’t feel as though you’re being held down, his wide palm and thick fingers winding around yours.

“Don’t have to do that, love.” He grunts, shifting. He’s looming over you, hips tilted towards you and his wide shoulders blocking out your view of the office. “D’you think you could take me?”

It takes you a moment for your slow, stupid brain to catch up and process what he’s asking you. Then you nod swiftly, eyes widening. You're wet and sticky and so so empty, and you have no doubt your body is so ready to take him inside.

You’re still a little limp and drained from the satisfaction of your orgasm, but you keep your thighs spread and wait eagerly for him to touch you again. He doesn’t keep you waiting long; he coos softly at you as he adjusts himself, kissing your tummy then up your sternum and back to your throat. The soft, sweet kisses distract you as he presses his hips between your thighs.

You gasp softly, your clit sensitive enough that when his cock rubs against it, you jolt. Despite the overload of sensation, you find yourself grinding back against him, so desperate for something. As if he can sense what you need, he presses a kiss to your jaw and dips a hand between your thighs. Two thick, calloused fingers circle your clit for a moment and make you whimper, only to dip lower and press inside you.

His fingers are larger than yours, but they still slip into you so damn easily that it’s embarrassing. You barely even feel a stretch, your body so eager for him that your cunt practically sucks his fingers up.

The worst part is the way Price laughs, all soft and breathy as he rubs his callous-roughened fingers into the spongey walls of your cunt.

“Oh, fuck,” He murmurs, his lips dragging over your overheated skin. “Yeah, you’ll take me just fine.”

You burn with embarrassment, but you still don’t close your legs. It’s silly, but there’s still an element of pride as his fingers rub against the soft inside of your pussy; you want him to see how much you want him, how well you’ll take him. It’s obvious how wet you are, and you hope he’s imagining how good you’ll feel on the inside.

“Need you to turn over for me, love.” He murmurs, gripping at your hips and easing you over so that you’re on your belly beneath him. “That’s it, arse up. My knees aren’t what they used to be. Make it easy for me.”

You usually would make a joke about that, some sort of jab about being old before his time, but you simply don’t have the mental capacity for it. You’re too busy dropping to rest your weight on your elbows as you stick your ass up towards him, arching your back and hoping you look pretty.

He doesn’t waste any more time, much to your relief. Your mouth drops open with a sigh as you feel the blunt head of his cock glide between your slick folds, tapping once against your clit just to watch the way your legs jerk, then finally lining up with your entrance and pressing lightly in. His cock notches, catches, then slides in so slowly that it makes you want to scream.

“Gotta let me in, petal.” He says, using his grip on your hips to pull you back onto his cock in increments. “Relax, relax.”

You had wanted this, you’re more eager than you think you’ve ever been for anyone in your life, and yet Price is a big man and the stretch makes your breath stall in your lungs. Your cunt is sucking his cock in further with a hunger that’s almost embarrassing, even as you wince a little at the feeling of being stretched out to your limits. Though you’re wet and eager and ready, two of Price’s fingers briefly testing inside weren’t quite enough to prepare you for how fat his cock is.

Your head is spinning. You’ve never taken a cock this big with so little stretching, but neither you nor Price are patient enough to wait. But the stretch feels good, and you find yourself wheezing like a moron as he presses inside inch by inch.

“Fuck… you alright, love?” Price breathes, adjusting his knees on the couch behind you and wrapping his hands around your hips. The motion only succeeds in shifting him far enough away to make you aware of the feeling of him sliding into you again. You both groan, and you feel Price twitch, deep inside you.

“Fuck,” You moan, breath gasping out of you. “You’re fucking huge.”

It feels like you’re learning for the very first time what it really means to be full. For a few seconds, it feels like you can’t even breathe. It feels like his cock is lodged somewhere in your belly, forcing the breath from your lungs as he nestles his way deeper into the eager clutch of your body.

“Am I– s’it too much, honey?” He asks, his voice rough and low as his hands squeeze at the flesh at your hips. “Need me to take it out?”

“No!” You blurt, and your body clenches up hard as though you’re trying to lock him in and keep him from escaping. “Don’t you dare!”

His cock still feels so big, and when you tighten up as hard as you do it almost feels as though he’s fucking impaling you. Price groans as though he’s been shot, and his head lowers so that he’s burying his face into the space between your shoulderblades. His body lowers too until his chest is pressed to your back, joined at the hips as he rocks inside of you.

“Okay,” He grunts, and you can feel his chest expand as he takes a breath. “Okay, love, but you need to relax. You’re going to squeeze my cock right off.”

“Sorry.” You try to do as he asks, taking a deep breath and allowing your body to go limp and pliant. He grunts in appreciation, and you feel his whiskery beard rasp against your throat as he presses a kiss to your neck as if to reward you.

Your spine is still taut from the pressure of being all stretched out around his cock, and you reach back clumsily to grasp at his belly, the soft fabric of his shirt rucking up between your fingers. Price reaches back and grabs at the neck of his own shirt, tearing it over his head then tossing it aside. Your eyes are all hazy and a little blurred from your overwhelmed tears, but you look back over your shoulder and blink frantically in an attempt to get a proper look at him.

God, he’s so big and strong, his chest furred with a layer of brown hair curling in whorls over his nipples and down over his belly. You feel yourself pulse in response, your mouth dropping open in a thoughtless gasp of desire. He’s exactly the kind of man you think of when you think of masculinity, and your belly tightens in anticipation when he presses all up against you, heavy and hot.

When he begins to pull out and press back in, the noise you make is utterly pathetic. It feels like he cleaving you in two, carving out a space for his cock every time he fucks back into you. He’s cautious at first, conscious of hurting you, but when your thighs close around his hips he grunts and begins to pick his pace up.

“Christ, you’re tight,” Price says, his voice all rough and muffled against your shoulder. “And you're all mine, love, my own sweet girl, ain’t that right? And daddy's gonna love you so good, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” You gasp stupidly, pressing your face into the couch cushions.

Typically, you find that doggy style can be a position that’s a little detached – usually, you like seeing the face of the person you’re fucking. But right now, with Price plastering his whole hairy body against your back as he ruts into you and the sweet filthy words he’s murmuring to you, this position feels so far from detached that it has your head spinning. It feels like he’s blanketing you, the heat from his skin igniting what feels like an inferno between the two of you. Sweat beads at your forehead, and you moan softly as Price begins to fuck you properly.

You’re bouncing against the couch, clutching at the cushions as your body moves under the weight of Price’s powerful thrusts. The sound of it is sloppy and wet, your bodies smacking together quick and hard. And fuck, it feels good. His cock is hitting that perfect spot deep inside of you, and your entire body jolts with pleasure every time he pounds back in.

It’s enough to make you squeal, your nails scrabbling desperately for purchase on the threadbare couch cushions in an attempt to stabilise yourself. Your nipples are sensitive from Price’s licking at sucking at them, and your toes curl as your tits are pressed into the rough-textured cushions, electrifying your nerves to the point of almost too-much.

The noises you make are entirely undignified, and you struggle to muffle them into the couch. Little burbling ah ah ah’s are being torn from your throat every time Price fucks into you, the sensation of his furred balls slapping against you with every thrust has your eyes rolling.

Your body is all loose and pliant from your earlier orgasm, and you whimper as though you’re being fucked absolutely stupid. It’s not that he’s fucking you all that hard, but he’s filling you up so deliciously and knowing that it’s him, your Captain, the man that you’ve worked so damn hard to impress and to please, makes you feel like you’re going to explode. Even through the haze of desire and pleasure, a little part of you is still so aware of making him happy. You keep your back arched, practically waving your ass up in the air as he fucks into you.

“Tell me how you like it, sweetheart. Tell me how it feels.” Price says in a low, rough purr. His chest is still pressed to your back even as the two of you pant and sweat as you rock together. “Tell daddy how good he's making you feel.”

Jesus Christ, Price feels like a fucking furnace against you. It feels almost as though you’ve been glued together, your skin sweat slick as he ruts into you like an animal. Your lungs are burning, and your mind is completely scattered. Getting fucked like this feels feels primal, an exchange of power through pleasure; you’re aware that he’s asked you a question, but you can hardly string two thoughts together. All you can do is squirm and whimper in below him as his weight pins you in place.

“Good,” You groan, vaguely aware that tears are leaking from your eyes and soaking the couch beneath you. Your vision is blurred, and you can’t even see straight. “I just– it’s so much–”

“I know,” He rumbles. “But you can take it, can’t you? You’ve been so good, sweetheart.”

The praise does exactly what he’s hoping for; you practically melt into a puddle beneath him. Your thoughts are slow and sluggish, and your jaw hangs open as you fucking drool. Even still, you manage to nod your head clumsily. You can take him – it feels like a point of pride to prove it now, to show off how good you can be.

Price’s rhythm is practically machine-like, and you make a quiet sound of pure appreciation when his cock slams into that gummy spot inside of you that makes you lose your breath. It’s as though he takes note of it, because from that point on he stays absolutely jackhammering into that little spot, making you see stars and have to bite your lip to stifle your moans. His balls would slam against your clit in a repeated motion that made your underbelly tighten like a coil so close to snapping.

He groans every time he sinks into you, his growls rumbling into your back and ratcheting up the intensity another notch. You feel lost in a sea of sensation, moored only by the places of contact between you and Price. Your hips are humping back against Price’s cock unconsciously, unable to help yourself and unable to get enough of him.

“I wanna come again,” You say, and it comes out in a demanding sort of whine. It’s a little humbling to hear yourself and realise that you sound so honest to god bratty, but you can’t bring yourself to care when Price is apparently in such a giving mood today.

“You’re gonna come, love.” He promises. His voice has that tone to it, the one you’ve always tried to ignore during work because it makes you so horny. The authoritative one, when it drops just a bit in pitch, when it sounds just a little like a threat.

But despite his promise, he doesn’t change his steady pace. You’re just this side of overwhelmed, but you still need more to push you over the edge into the second orgasm that’s simmering in your lower stomach.

“Please, daddy,” You let the name pass your lips on a whimper, finally giving in and calling him by the title he’s so clearly craving. He’s fucked all the shame out of your body at this point, leaving you with nothing but white hot desperation. “Please, please make me come again–”

“Fuckin’ Christ–”

Price’s arm reaches around your front, and you’re startled when his big palm wraps around your throat. You think for a moment that you’re about to get choked, but no pressure follows. He just grips you there, gentle and secure, before using his hold on you to pull you back against him so that he’s rutting up into you at a speed that’s overwhelming in the best way. His other arm reaches around your belly so that he can rub at your clit as he rails you into the couch. His soft grip on your throat ensures that no matter how much you try to squirm your way back into meeting his thrusts, you’re forced into stillness.

It’s exactly what you wanted, and it has you wheezing and hiccuping out moans on every stroke. It’s better than you ever could have hoped for, and you’re nearly sobbing from the sheer sensation of it all. You feel your abdomen drawing tight, heat beginning to build rapidly in the bottom of your belly as he strokes at your clit hard and fast at a pace that matches his fucking.

You know that you’re already starting to shake, trembling from head to toe. You can’t even keep your back arched anymore, though you don’t think Price gives a shit because he just nuzzles at the base of your shoulder as he fucks into you. Between his cock and his fingers, everything just feels too much but your body is strung taut as you proverbially climb higher and higher.

“Oh god, I’m– yes, yes, yes–” You chant, your voice high and reedy and so damn needy.

Then the world falls out from under you. With one last whimpering moan, your body convulses beneath the heavy weight of your captain’s big body. Your vision practically wipes out, and you squeeze down around Price’s dick and pulse. Your whole body rocks with the flood of pleasure, the warm fuzzy feeling that makes you feel as though you’re losing your mind. You know that your hips are twitching madly, simultaneously trying to get more and less as you get overwhelmed by the feeling of him fucking you through it all.

You’re still coming down from the sweet release of your orgasm when Price practically tears himself away from you, leaving you cruelly empty and clenching around nothing. You let out a sharp sound of loss, startled that he’s pulled away so suddenly, and you find yourself slumping bonelessly against the couch now that his hands are no longer supporting you.

The wet shlurping sounds from behind you prompt you to glance lazily over your shoulder from where your face is smushed against the cushions, and you’re blessed with the sight of Price tugging his cock furiously behind you. His cheeks are bright red as he stares at the mess he’s made of you, his jaw soft and his mouth open as he pants.

He sees you looking, and whatever expression is on your face seems to be his undoing. He takes in your tear-clumped eyelashes and your dazed expression, and you can practically see the moment he hurtles over the edge. He practically snarls, his nose scrunching in a way that’s unexpectedly adorable right as his cock gives one fat pump of thick white come, then several smaller sputterings that collect in a creamy puddle right at the base of your spine, just over the swell of your ass.

You sigh, your eyelids fluttering lazily shut as you relish the feeling of his hot come hitting your skin. You still can’t manage to pull yourself together, feeling loose and floaty like you’re on another fucking planet entirely. You’re only distantly aware of his big palm rubbing gentle circles on the small of his back; you think for a second that he’s just trying to soothe you, until your fucked out brain catches up and you realise that he’s rubbing his come into you like it’s goddamn lotion. Your cunt gives a tired throb at the realisation, fluttering as though it’s sad that he didn’t come inside.

“Fuck…” You hear him rumble from behind you, then a hot heavy weight settling over you yet again. This time, he pulls you back into his arms to hold you tight against his chest.

You go perfectly limp, curling into him and nuzzling into his sweaty hairy chest. Despite yourself, you’re reminded of cuddling with a massive teddy bear. All you can do is hum, basking in the affection and hardly able to think at this point after he’s turned your brain into a slurry of feelings without thoughts.

“You okay, love?” Price asks. You can feel his nose nuzzling against your temple, though you can’t quite summon the energy to open your eyes again. “Did I go too hard on you?”

Your legs are still shaky, your hamstrings aching and your back throbbing a little from the pounding you’ve just taken. But Price is being so lovely and soft, so gentle with you right now. His hands coast over your hips, your back, your waist, squeezing a little bit just because he seems to like the way you feel in his hands.

“Shhh,” You drawl shakily. “Don’t make me think right now.”

A low chuckle, and you feel his broad chest rumble with it where your head is laying atop him. His fingers run up the length of your spine, the touch making you shiver. He touches you like you’re delicate, a stark contrast to the way he’d just fucked you into your sad little office couch. It makes something in your belly squirm.

“Alright. My girl just needed to switch off for a while, hm?” He murmurs, and you can hear the clear undertone of amusement in his voice. “How are you going to finish out work today if you’re all sleepy like this, huh?”

That wakes you up a little, and you finally blink your eyes open again in order to look up at him. An edge of panic is beginning to creep in as awareness comes back to you, and you take a deep breath as your hands curl against his chest.

“Oh my god.” You blurt, eyes growing wide. “I– we’re at work!”

“Sharp as ever, darling.”

Not even Price’s lazy wryness can distract you now. You try to wiggle off the couch, already craning your head around in search of your clothes, but Price’s thick arm locks tight around your middle and keeps you pressed to him.

“We have to– oh my god, we have to get dressed, what if someone walks in–”

“Shh, shhh, I locked the door when I came in,” Price grumbles. He doesn’t appear too impressed with the way you’re attempting to wiggle away, but it doesn’t matter so much; even with one arm he’s perfectly capable of keeping you pinned in place against his chest. “Lie back down, love.”

Slowly, you let yourself relax back into him. It’s hard to hold onto your panic when he’s so obviously unbothered, so you end up hesitantly snuggling back up against his chest as his arms come up to close around you. Despite his encouragement, you’re unsure whether or not you’re allowed to be touching him like this. But his hands don’t stray from you, not even once, and gradually you return to your previous state of being a puddle of limbs and pliant muscle.

“That’s it, relax.” He coaxes, clearly pleased now that you’re melting back into him.

“I have so much work to catch up on.” You grumble, though you have no intention of actually going anywhere now that he’s given you the greenlight to stay like this.

His chest vibrates beneath your cheek, and you realise he’s chuckling again. It feels good, and you sigh softly as your fingers stroke lightly over the defined shape of his soft pecs.

“You think I wasn’t capable of keeping the ship afloat for the couple of days you were gone?” He asks, one hand stroking over your flank then dipping lower to flatten his palm over your left asscheek. “I finished out those little files you were stressin’ over. No picture of Ghost for his, but like I said, that’s standard.”

You had known that he had finished updating the files for you when you had seen Farah’s, but hearing it straight from his mouth is something else entirely. You purse your lips and lower your eyes, still embarrassed about your little freak out despite his apologies.

“Thank you.” You mumble.

You try to hide your face in his chest again, but a large hand on your jaw stops you by tilting your head back and forcing you to look at him. A thumb strokes over your cheek, and then he’s leaning in and pressing a sweet kiss to your mouth. You respond tiredly but eagerly, still hardly able to believe that your boss that you’ve been mooning after for months is being so affectionate and intimate with you.

Price pulls back slightly so that your lips are just barely touching, breathing each other’s air for a moment.

“Ask for help when you need it, sweetheart.” He murmurs, his lips dragging over yours. “That’s what I’m here for. We help each other with the workload, alright?”

“Yeah,” You breathe, leaning in eagerly in the hopes of getting another kiss. “Alright.”

Price smiles, his cheeks going all full and round as his eyes crinkle, and you feel your heart throb so violently it feels as though it jumps right up into your throat. He leans in and kisses you again, soft and sweet as his beard rasps against your chin.

You want to stay like this forever, wrapped up so warm and cosy and safe in his arms. He makes you feel so safe, like you’re valued and appreciated, and you can’t even feel bad about being lazy because he so clearly doesn’t want to move either.

“Let me come home with you tonight,” He says suddenly, and you feel his bicep contract as he squeezes you closer. “You have an apartment off base, don’t you? I’ll… why don’t I cook you dinner, hm? Want to show you how much I appreciate all the work you do.”

There’s a pause, then he adds cautiously, “If I’m not being presumptuous, that is.”

You can’t stop the shy smile from overtaking your face. He’s so sweet, and being on the receiving end of this kind of attention from him is more than you ever could have expected. Ridiculously, he seems a little nervous as well, and you come to the slow realisation that he had been vulnerable with you as well when it came to his interests when he had fucked you.

“I thought this was you appreciating the work I do.” You say coyly, glancing pointedly at all of your bare skin pressed up against his.

“Mm. You do a lot of work, and I’m very appreciative.” Price murmurs, squeezing teasingly at your ass.

You giggle despite yourself, relishing the light-hearted air between the two of you. At the sound of your laugh, Price’s expression brightens further; it’s strange, seeing your usually stern, stressed captain being so sweet with you. You’re so used to seeing him with that flinty determined look in his eyes, or barking orders, or with his eyes sagging with exhaustion after a long deployment only to return to a pile of mission reports. Seeing him like this, with those soft eyes and a fond smile, makes your heart feel as though it’s beating out of rhythm.

“I said I’d look after you, sweetheart.” He murmurs, and this time his voice is missing that teasing undertone from before. He sounds so earnest now, almost painfully so. “You just need to let me.”

Yeah, you think to yourself as you let yourself succumb to the drowsy haze that’s been tugging at you, allowing your eyes to slide shut as you nuzzle into Price’s bare chest. You think letting John Price look after you might just be the easiest thing you’ve ever done.

#PLEASE don't look at me right now i will be taking NO questions on my state of mind #captain john price #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #price x reader #john price smut #cod smut #cod fic #141 x reader #daddy issues price

15K notes · View notes