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boredoverlord · 3 years

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Bucky X Reader - Hold the Line

I came in here to show you a good time, so here's my personal work and my very first fanfiction of all time. And because I'm a thirsty bitch, of course it's smut.

Summary : As a young and talented psychologist specializing in difficult people in prison, you believed in a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to work with the SHIELD. Turned out you were tricked to work for HYDRA.

For three years they made you do horrors in the name of an ideology you despised, but you may have found the occasion to finally make a change for the good, when they introduced you to your new patient.

The Winter Soldier.

Rating : Explicit, please kids, look away ( of course you won't because you're cute little rebels, but please do it)

Word count : 6.4k (chapter 1)

TW: Light BDSM (for now) Because Bucky is a massive Sub and it seems nobody agrees with me, so I have to do the lord's work here.

Foul language, mention of violence and murder, Masturbation, male orgasm and a tiiiny bit of choking. I started lightly

Please consider reading this on Archive of our own or read it below the cut. Lemme know what you think !

Chapter 1: A Story of Almost Everything

You never were the type to brag. But one thing you know is : you’re damn good at your job. Years and years of psychology studies, you barely got to parties, you hardly made any friends, and your sleeping schedule is still a nightmare. Those were sacrifices you did for one sole purpose : helping others. To be the last resort for people who have lost everything. You always firmly believed that you could make a change in the world, even the slightest, even for just one person. That would have been enough to make your lifetime worthy. What's more noble than just a genuine try to make it better, after all ? So you wasted your youth on studies, without a damn blink. And never one ounce of regret. You did it because it felt right. You’re not very brave, but you decided to face your fear a couple of times. You even were an intern in a high security prison, talking to broken men and women who hated your guts. Trying to lead them to another path of life. You heard stories that could break any mind. Only time could tell if you actually helped them. But that’s part of the job. Hope. And hard work.

That’s why when you started to have a growing reputation, at 26 after five years of studies and several years working in prison and rehabilitation, you were ecstatic when S.H.I.E.L.D contacted you. You quit everything, starting with your homeland in Europe, to fly to Washington DC, to visit the headquarters. The new building, the thrill of novelty, the clean rooms, the medical wing, and Alexander Pierce himself coming to shake your hand and telling you personally the wonders they have in mind for the psychology field. You could prepare people to save the world, you could have all the resources to make research, and fix minds that were supposed to be beyond repair. It was supposed to be just a quick trip, but the visit wasn’t even done when you looked at your guide with enthusiasm : you weren’t going home. Just cancel the fly. You’re taking the job immediately. It was three years ago.

Enough to understand how fucked you are.

You didn’t save anyone, you didn’t even work to make the world a better place. Oh but you did work to make a change. A change for HYDRA. They tortured you to make you swallow their ideology, but even if your body surrendered, your mind didn’t, even if it was still a perpetual work on yourself. You never believed in this masquerade, but you know it doesn’t matter. Because HYDRA knows how good you are at your job, and you’re a precious asset. So precious that they pushed all your buttons to make you obey. You tried to act and escape. Their last resort is the Damocles sword they put over your family’s head. Next act of rebellion, heads will roll. And it won’t be yours : no, no. HYDRA won’t give you this relief. It will be your loved ones. So you’re doing what you have to do. It’s the most cowardly choice, you know it. And you’re ashamed. But you’re too terrorised to make it otherwise. So you’re here to twist people's minds to swallow whatever Hydra wants. You make them understand the importance of the organization, when they can’t take it anymore, you make them understand that not only they can, but they must . You saw vulnerable people giving their life to this awful cause, and you are the person to make them understand it was the right thing to do. They gave you kind people with dreams, morals and passion, and you turn this into anger, hate and war, worshipping a crazy doctrine that spoils everything you believed and fought for. You have blood on your hands. You’re THAT good at your job.

So when they called you for a highly secret mission, you weren’t exactly surprised. Just disgusted by them, and mostly yourself. In the guts of what was called the Ideal Federal Saving Bank, you’re obediently following the chef himself : Alexander Pierce, to your next place of action. “I believe you have read your mission’s order, Y/N ?” “Yes Sir.” You said. “It did mention I will have the whole file today, though. I need to take a look at my patient so I can work in proper condition.” “Whatever you call it.” He said, opening the door of the clandestine laboratory in the now abandoned bank. If not for the machinery, we could still believe that those art deco walls filled with safes would still contain treasures of a lifetime for some people. Now there is nothing of value in here, not even the very skin of every PoS present. And you were including yourself. Making your way in the middle of the heavy set up, you slowly reach the pod in the middle, chewing secretly the interior of your cheeks. You know what’s inside, and it makes you want to puke. Mr Pierce continued “Doctor, as your mission was presented to you, your one on only assignment will be the physical and mostly the psychological perfect condition of the Winter Soldier, for the entire length of this mission on american soil.” Basically, be sure his brain is a fucking slushy. You reluctantly nodded and drew closer. “What’s his condition ?” At the top of your height, barely 5’3, you tiptoed to actually look at him by the window of the cryostasis chamber, since you never got this close of a look, not without the file and basically crumbs of info that were thrown at your face. They expected you to keep a dog on a leash, not making actual work on him, and it shows. White man, late 20s to early 30s, approx 5”7, long dark messy hair, not shaved, geez, it seemed like the poor guy was barely cleaned up before being pushed here. Good physical condition, breathing was steady. You could see the steam of his breath on the glass. He may be clinically asleep, but she highly doubted he would be in his best shape. He looked uncomfortable, and tired. It wasn’t a restorative sleep. It was a prison. You couldn’t help but notice his prosthetic arm, even if that was the only thing you knew about him. It’s a fascinating work of science, that’s for sure. And even if transhumanism and biomechanical wasn’t your forte, you wanted to have a closer look, to satisfy your curiosity. One of the scientists watching his screen responded : “He’s gently defrozing, should be half conscious in 5 minutes. You may want to take a step down.” You ignore that, and lean your hand to your superior. “May I finally have what I have been asking for ?” With the most irritating smile, he gave you the Winter Soldier’s File and you quickly opened it to have a first look at all the fuss. Basic physical information, previous missions report, date of entering and ending of cryostasis, bare minimal medical record, notes by her predecessor, fucking trigger words to make him kneel like a 12 years old in front of any boysband... nothing about his previous life, his antics, his name, actual disorders, no name, nor adresses… You glaced a bit at Pierce and threw a polite smile. He knows what he’s doing, and he knows you know. You’re extremely good with very violent patients. You have endured rapists and murderers spiting in your face and swearing to bite your head off and fucking your skull. You were traumatized and you cried yourself to sleep, but the following day you did your job again. You’re just here to handle the worst of the worst. And you’re going to do it.

Or he’s going to break your neck and fuck your skull. You’re fine with that.

“Thank you it’s going to be very helpful.” As helpful as a band-aid on a wooden leg. “What’s this device ?” You point your chin to another machine not far away from it. One of the two men finishing installing it, raised his head to look at you. “A memory suppressing machine. Usually he doesn’t need it as much as he used to, but it’s mainly for safety. He must be prepared.” “He’s in a state where he willingly takes it. So don’t hesitate if he’s starting to be annoying, or excited. That can happen. But that mean you would probably have to work more with him to make him fully ready for his mission,” “Understood, thank you for clarification gentlemen.” You smiled and they smiled back. You’re a woman, so you’re used to it. Basically this shit was supposed to hack his brain, and it must be painful. “I would strongly recommend not using it at such a time. From what I quickly read he needs stability and time. Wiping everything out will more likely create more confusion.” You took a look at the file again and took it upon yourself to not have your eyes double in size and screaming at this bunch of idiots. “... and it does seem he’s using it a lot.”

“We want the asset to be as focused as possible.”

“I understand that, but that's a temporary solution at best. He’s got a brain, not a harddrive. We still don’t know how it can store information, and if it can…” “The last time we used him was five years ago…” Started Pierce, with diplomaty, but also with a tone that wasn’t allowing any more debate on the matter. “And this mission is an absolute priority. The asset is strictly under cryostasis procedure as soon as he’s not needed anymore. The machine will be used if needed.” “I understand your point.” You absolute psychopath. “Then my request is simply to be here if it happens, and to be able to control the shocks. Also, I insist that he must be in perfect condition when you launch the procedure, I’ll personally make it happen and give you a green light.” “Thank you for your hard work.” He said, raising his hand, that you promptly and politely shook. You could feel the angry grasp. “I know you’re the perfect woman for this hard job. Your work is an inspiration for us all.” You wish you could end your life right here right now, instead of being told such atrocities. But you think about your mom and dad. At this time of year they start to prepare the pool for the summer, for the future neighborhood barbecues where they will brag to everyone about their incredible psychiatrist daughter who is doing secret stuff over sea to help save the world. You have to be strong. At least for them. At least for now.

“Hail Hydra.”

“Hail Hydra.” You responded, while your tongue feels like sandpaper.

“Ok he’s starting to wake up…” Someone warns, as Pierce leaves the room, unbothered. The pod opens before your eyes, as the asset -you hate this term- is being roughly handled and carried away by two dudes to his seat. The one dangerously close to the memory suppressing machine. You squatted in front of him, the time for him to blink several times and look around him. Confused, but it’s not exactly his first rodeo either. His eyes are quickly focused on the first thing in front of him : you. He looked like he was trying to remember who you are, but quickly realized he didn’t know you. Two blue spears digging right into your soul. That’s making you a bit uncomfortable. The same weird feeling of unease you have when a cat is watching you taking a shower. “Hi.” You started, in english, even if he could be from italy you had no freaking clue. You guessed that he was probably slavic. But the file says he’s speaking more than ten languages. And it wasn’t specified when and how the hell did he learn that. “Can you hear me?” He took a few more seconds to look at you, probably the time to finish reading every embarrassing moment of your life, right into your eyes, like your drunk 18th birthday when you finished in your panties swimming in a city fountain, but he nodded eventually. You actually know this look. But it’s the first time you have a super soldier in front of you so it’s of a rare intensity. He’s dissecting you. Gathering information. His eyes moved slightly down : a recent scar on your neck. Right : an ex piercing on the top of your ear, now unusable. Down left : he just realized you’re slightly unbalanced so he knows you have a hip issue. And down right : he’s looking at your hand, you don’t really know what he saw here, maybe calculating how to break them ? You were literally a foot in a viper’s nest. Were you terrified ? Absolutely. Will that forbid you to do your job ? Nope. “Can you follow the light ?” You asked, moving slowly your phone’s lamp from left to right in front of his eyes. He did it without questioning. “Ok good.” You tried a smile, not really knowing why. If he was at least a tenth as clever as the file said he was, he perfectly know that you’re here to fuck him up. But you couldn’t help it. Poor dude. He was visibly more or less your age. He could have been a prince, or thief, a womanizer, or a priest, whatever, HYDRA took everything from him. From his free will, of his right to grow old, to his sleep. “Can you tell me your name ?” He frowned, perplexed. “Winter Soldier.” Shitty answer but at least he was fully aware, and his tongue was working properly. “Nice to meet you, I’m doctor Y/N. We’re here to work together in preparation of your next assignment. Do you understand ?” He nodded, unimpressed. “Good, can you get up ?” He did, so you did it too. And he realized that you were… very short. His eyes literally went up and slooowly down. That was a bit mean, actually. You carefully took a glance behind you, and your eyeroll could probably trigger an earthquake. “Can you all nice gentlemen let down a bit of their weapon ?” You said at the 6 dudes with rifles literally fixed on him, ready to shoot at the wrong twitch of muscle. No wonder he wasn’t talkative. “You won’t say that when he will break your neck with two fingers, ‘mam.”

“He’s pretty stable for now. Plus he’s not fully awake, let’s give him time before threatening him, shall we ?”

Nobody moved for ten seconds before one of them complied, since you didn’t move. The rest of the bunch reluctantly followed . You looked at your patient, hoping that that would have made him a bit more relaxed. Nope, he didn’t give a shit. He wasn't even looking at them. He was looking at you. You’re the mystery of this room to him. But you didn’t need extra vision to understand that Docs treated him like a guinea pig, so he was very understandably extra careful with you. Standing on his feet, all his muscles ready for action, that’s the exact moment you realized how close you two were. Indeed, if he decided to, your jaw would fly across the room in a single move. You never had such a display of sheer raw strength, and you could feel the heat of his body radiate.

“He needs a shower, and clothings.” You said, having a look at his 5 years old combat suit still reeking the smell of his sweat. It was intoxicating. They didn’t even allow him to clean himself. Poor dude was frozen in his own filth for the last five years. And you didn’t know why you took an even deeper breath. “And I’m talking about comfy workout clothes, no combat suit. Please escort him and handle him with care, before bringing him to my office.” You actually decided to be sure he wouldn’t be mistreated, by waiting outside the man’s bathrooms. You weren’t certain of how he could react, and you didn’t trust anyone here. If one of them decided to do a piss contest with your patient, it could end badly. So you put your hands in your pockets, looking at the two armed men waiting for the most dangerous assassin in the world to finish scrubbing himself with soap. The atmosphere was heavy and the silence was loud in itself. Even the sound of the shower was stressful and menacing.

When the Soldier was escorted to your improvised office into the archive, directly linked to a storage room that will be your bedroom for the next weeks, you let him take a seat and promptly blocked the access to the room of the two escort members. “Thank you sirs, that will be all. Please wait here.” They look at you like you just told them you were dating their daughters. “Sorry Miss, but we can’t…” “Sorry Doctor , and I can’t work properly with weapons in my office.” You raised your hand, showing your device on your wrist. Something that would not only call for aid by a simple pressure, but could stun an opponent. Neither them nor you were stupid : it wouldn’t stop The Winter Soldier, maybe he would blink a second at most. But you really wanted to be alone with him. Was he dangerous ? Yes. Were you absolutely certain that you would leave this room alive if you closed this door to their face ? No. But it’s been three years since your priority wasn’t your survival anymore. So you forced a smile and slapped the door. They needed you more than you needed them, so they will obey.

“Douchebags.” You muttered to yourself while coming back to your desk. Your patient didn’t even move a muscle at your little argument. He wasn’t totally inexpressive actually, mostly terribly broody. His hair was still wet from the shower he took, wearing cargo pants, heavy boots and hoodies, generic clothes by HYDRA. You got those too, since you’re not allowed to carry anything personal for mission to mission. You had a tablet for books, music and movies, but that was it. You haven’t opened your shelves yet, but you know it’s full of ugly clothes and generic black panties of doom.

You took a large inspiration, sat on your desk in front of him, and started : “Ok ‘Winter Soldier’... how are you doing ?” He didn’t even flinch. He was staring into your soul with his eyes lost into dark circles. Depriving someone of proper sleep is a basic rule for brainwash. “You enjoyed the shower ?” Nothing. You waited for a bit to see if he would finally respond. Ten seconds. Twenty. fourty. a minute. When he gathered that you were actually looking for an answer, visibly a first one for him, he finally gave you the courtesy of one. “Yes.” “Perfect.” You didn’t hide your slight smile and tiled your head. “I’ll be sure you’re in your best condition for your next mission. If something’s on your mind, I need to know about it. Nothing will get out of this room. Both of our priorities are your goal, and your condition is the key to success. Which makes you , my high top priority. Do you understand me ?” “Yes.”

“Ok so let’s get going.” You took another file, and took a picture out, ready to handle it to him. “Is the name : Nicholas Fury, ringing some bells to you?” “Yes.” He took it inside his titanium fingers and finally moved his piercing blue eyes away from you to look at the picture. “In two weeks, you’ll be in Washington DC. An entire squad will be deployed to assassinate him. Fury is the leader of the S.H.I.E.L.D, not a mere target. He will break free and fight back. That will be when you’ll show up.” He wasn’t looking at the picture anymore. One thing for sure : at least he was paying attention to you, and what you were saying. And that made you actually kind of proud of yourself. “That was part one. I’ll personally supervise your training with the VR machine and your physical health and condition. I really need you to communicate with me all the time about anything that could be in your mind. The more focused you are, the more Hydra’s plan will succeed.” And what’s that plan ? You have not a single clue. You were a cog in the machine, disposable. Not much more than him. “Do you understand ?” “I understand.” Oh shit, two words this time!

“Good.” You smiled. He didn’t. You move your hands closer to him, to take a grip on the picture. He opened his prosthetic hand, leaving you to take it back. Nothing in his gesture seems dangerous. Just normal, somehow cordial. “I must ask : are you in any pain right now ?” His eyes significantly get from right to left. He must probably wonder why you are asking him that. Did nobody ever ask him such basic questions like : ‘are you in pain?’ This man's sole purpose was to fight, that made no damn sense for you.

“Sir ?” You insisted for an answer, even if the ‘sir’ sounded absolutely ridiculous to your ears. You didn’t know his name, and you don’t feel comfortable calling him “Winter Soldier” , “Soldier”, “Sir De Winter”, “Hey you,he soviet assassin” so it will be “Sir” for now. “Sir are you in pain right now ?” “I’m not in pain.” A complete sentence, that’s progress. You breathed a bit better “Ok good.” You got up from your desk, which was honestly barely taller that him remaining on his chair. He didn’t let go of your eyes and you decided to make a bold move. For now, he was always being responsive so you slowly moved your hands toward him. To his prosthetic hand. “May I take a look, please ?” You glanced at each other, nobody made the first move. In complete silence, if it wasn’t for both of your breaths. You’re almost sure that it has been at least 5 minutes since you decided to speak again. Slowly, and gently, with no signs of confrontation in your body language or speech. “I will not do it until you comply. And you can refuse the contact.” He didn’t answer right away but he finally nodded.

Slowly, you took his hand into yours, lifting it from his thigh where it was resting. At the beginning it was just taking a look. But he wasn’t making any moves, so you decided to take your observation a little further. You used your other hands to start to move each finger separately, taking a step closer to him. Finally, you made one of your hands slowly sliding into the hoodie, to feel the muscles, the nerves, how it feels like a real arm. It was cold, but you felt it shudder to your touch. That was the line you decided to not take it further.

“Thank you, Soldier.” You said with a smile, taking away your hands from him. You moved behind your desk, opening your notepad to take a bunch of notes, breaking the contact with him. Just a second. But when you raised your eyes again, The Winter Soldier wasn’t in sight.

You shuddered and didn’t make a single move. If it wasn’t for your fingers grasping your desk. You did your best to have a steady respiration and not start to panic. Your throat dried up immediately. You took a deep breath and say : “Please, get back to your seat.” You slowly moved your head to look right back at him. He was standing. His eyes were black, taking loud deep breaths, fixing your behind your shoulder. Tall. Dangerous. You were terrorised. And he could smell it. He didn’t move so you stood up as well, and slowly faced him. You try to remain in total control of your body and not start to fidget. You could scream for help, but for whatever reason, you still had the feeling you could handle the situation. Trying to convince yourself that it wasn’t the first time a patient was disobedient. The only difference was that this one could crush your skull in a bat of an eye,

“Get back.” You said once again, bearing his piercing eyes, but he didn’t budge. So you took out your hand and put it on his chest. You felt like an ant against a mountain, but you pushed him a bit. “We will go nowhere this way.” You resumed trying to get a step closer, even if it will be creating a proximity that could be even more lethal to you. “So please, get back to…”

Something happened. It was obvious, and clear as day : you felt the bulge between his legs. Right above your navel. Hardening even more now that he could feel your body. You decided immediately to repress the shameful feeling of your very inside warming up and tickling you. “Winter Soldier.” You growled, angry but trying your best to remain as professional as you could. Of course, of fucking course. This guy was gorged on serum and hormones, quick, violent actions, and adrenaline. Pumping in his veins, burning 24/7. His body was on the edge all the time, and he just awoke from a dreamless slumber. He was a human, whatever all these idiots were thinking, not a freakin’ cyborg. When was the last time he saw a woman that he didn’t smash the head on a wall ? You even suspected that Pierce was counting on it. Nonetheless, you were alone in an office, literally glued with the world's most dangerous assassin, who was having a massive hard-on. Throbbing against you. You had your share of very awkward situations in your short life time. But nothing, nothing prepared you for this. And you had even less of an idea of what to do because he was doing nothing . He was feeling uncomfortable, that you could say, but he wasn’t really doing any moves to attack you, or even take you. He was standing here, with heavy breathing, his eyes still piercing you. And you slowly slided your gaze to his lips, finding the vision of his hard laboured breath strangely mesmerizing.

Short of ideas, your reflexes took the best (or the worst) of you, and without you realizing it, your hand was around his neck. Your palm pressured on his glottis, and you clearly felt him swallow. As clearly as you felt him becoming even harder. Your breath was starting to shake, as you felt a not-so subtle chill coursing your spin. You drew his face and your face closer, as you finally moved forward, forcing him to move as well. Forcing was a strong word : the last time you hit a punching bag, you hurt yourself and sobbed for an hour. But for whatever reason, he did whatever you wanted. As if he was testing your resolve to make him obey. But there was nothing on his file about this behaviour. He tried to attack, kill and escape. Nothing about testing the limits of anyone.

“You. Will. Sit. Down!” you spat, through your teeth, forcing even more your grip around his neck, as your other hand was reaching for his hair. You pulled it, not too harshly, but you could definitely smell the musk, and the wetness of what stayed of his shower.

You did it. He was sitting down again. And your bodies departed for one another. For once he tried to escape your gaze, which was a strangely human reaction. You both managed to get your breath back, before you decided to call the guard to adjourn your observation.

As soon as the door closed behind them, you felt your legs giving up and you sat on the ground, back against your desk, a small wimp leaving your throat. You felt your eyes starting to wet, and your teeth rattled a bit so you tried to cuddle yourself to try to retake control on your body. Your hands were shaking uncontrollably as his intoxicating smell was still all around you. It was by far one of the most terrifying experiences you ever felt, and it was all clouded by the phantom feeling of his body against yours. You could still feel his gaze, his heat, his… well, his cock against your belly. You were still chilling, trying to repress whatever you were feeling at this instant. Because it wasn’t right, for you. Nor him. Everyone in this godforsaken organisation was treating him like a dog, just here to attack and do tricks, but you swore to yourself not to do the same. You will succeed at your mission, but you’ll do it from the crumbs of humanity and morality that HYDRA left you. You will do anything possible that the mission will be complete, the most painless possible for this broken man you just saw. Wait a second.

Painless .

You jumped on your feet, ignoring the numbness of your legs caused by the shock, and you ran at the door, screaming at the three men at the end of the corridor. “HEY !” The guards startled a bit and looked at you “I changed my mind. Bring the Winter Soldier back to my office.” They briefly exchange what seems to be a bunch of insults about you, but they comply to bring the Soldier back. Him ? He seemed absolutely unbothered.

You closed the door behind the both of you, to the face of the guards yet again. He was standing here, showing his back as you slowly got back in front of him. Hands in your pocket, not really sure of what to do nor how to do it. He was looking at you, this same feeling of unease than before. And for reasons : a small glance confirmed that he was still rock hard. You didn’t make any move for a long time, until you finally put your hand on his chest. You felt his breathing becoming slightly quicker. “You’re not in pain.” You whispered, and he shook his head, negatively. “That was the wrong question. I’m sorry... “ Without you noticing, you had the palm of your hand on his cheek, scrubing lightly his stubble with your thumb as an apology. You breathed in, just couldn’t believe what you were about to say. “Do you need help ?” His expression didn’t change, but his eyes ? They became a bit brighter, you could even see a bit of relief when you saw him nod.

You swiftly move your other index on his pillowy lips as you still lower your voice. “They cannot hear us.” He nodded again as the only feeling of your finger as close to his mouth made him shiver with anticipation. He was literally dying of anything that could relieve him. And for what you understood, as your conversation continued, he trusted you with his body, to provide him with the sweet touch he has been totally deprived of. You slowly push away your index to gently slide your thumb between his lips, and he sighed with pleasure as he took it with an eagerness you would never have believed possible. The most deadly assassin in the world, the legendary Winter Soldier that everyone wishes he wasn’t real, was purring while sucking your finger. If you weren’t the shrink, you’ll be needing one immediately. You gently moved him to make him sit in his chair, he was way too tall for you to handle this with ease. “What about the showers?” You asked him, as you removed your thumb to make it gently slide on his lips, your other hand crawling across his chest to his pants. He swallowed before whispering. “I could but... “ his well built square jaws started to tense, with a visible revulsion. “... They can watch.” Disgusting. He couldn’t even close the damn door of the shower. “You’re safe here.” You said as your hand was finally reaching the bulge behind his Hydra cargo pants. You didn’t know what you expected but… it was way beyond that. He hissed a bit at the feeling of your hand as you started to touch it gently over the fabric.

Now he was panting, looking at you as you were a single oasis after years of thirst in the desert. “Please…” You heard, barely audible when he was starting to lose it. “I got you, but you have to promise me to be good.” “Anything. Please…”

And at your very surprise, you obliged him. Using your hand to plunge into his pants, while the other fast pressed into his mouth, muffing the immediate deep moan that escaped at the very second you touched his pulsing penis. He started panting even more, as he used his flesh arm to drive you onto him. His forehead against yours. You couldn’t stop yourself from getting closer and closer. Actually you let go of his -massive- erection a second to just drop out his pants, and his breach. You stopped a second, only to watch him begging you with his eyes, as you could feel his saliva at the palm of your hand while you muzzled him. It was it. You realized what kind of power you have over this man. He has been used and abused in every single way, but for once : someone’s finally doing what he wanted. You had his pleasure in your very hands, and for once in years, you could finally help someone. So you’re gonna do it, you’re going to make him feel good. Very good. “Good boy.” You muttered, without knowing where the hell that could come from, and you reached him again. Stroking your hands up and down his shaft, nourishing yourself over the vibration of his muffled moans against your hand. His eyes weren't leaving yours, if it wasn’t for when they seemed to roll to the sky. His vision periodically blackened by the waves of forbidden pleasure he was feeling over his body, who was barely him anymore. Your eyes were gorging on the vision of his handsome muscular man, surrendering himself to your touch, sweating, trembling and panting for you. You were saluted by an utterly satisfied noise the moment you decided to lean over his manhood to drip a large amount of your own saliva moist what was already on the edge of ruin. You rolled your thumb against his tip, massage his veins with just one finger… anything to make him feel something. Anything that wasn’t pure anger, hatred or apathy. You were inclined to believe the file saying that he was nothing but a perfectly built weapon for HYDRA to command. But now, when you tickled, teased and made him shiver, and you felt all his sincere gratitude, you were certain : There is a man in here. And he was finally feeling good .

But soon, it wasn’t enough anymore. Seeing his bare thighs, powerful, thicken by years of training and super soldier serum, tensed by all the nerves and muscles deliciously answering to your call, made your inside warmed up. Your core was aching, screaming for proximity and intimacy, and before you understood what happened, you sat astride on his left thigh. The soft flesh between your legs immediately responded with delight, making you shiver. Almost instantly, you felt his grip on your hip, of the cold metal digging into your flesh with despair. It was a super soldier, with the stamina of several dozen men, but it’s been so long, and you were touching him with perfection. You felt his head on your shoulder, and slowly you started licking his temple, tasting the very fruit of your hard work : his sweat.

Galvanized by his intoxicating smell, and the thrusting he started giving to your hand, you started to move like a snake, rocking against his skin, looking for some pressure despite the fabric of your pants, mercilessly acting like a barrier of your own pleasure. You could get it off, but it was a limit that you forbid yourself to cross. But it’s true, as you were working him, you couldn’t stop yourself to think of how this would feel. Sliding inside you. You were so very short and fragile, and compared to your hand, his phallus was gigantic. He could ruin you, split you in half, using his bare hands and make you do anything. But the only person in control here, were you. And only you. You never felt anything like this before. And it’s highly probable than neither did he. You tried to vanish the thought, but the more you could feel his thigh between yours, the more you became obsessed.

The more he was approaching, the more eager the soldier became. Both of his hands firmly gripped on your behind, almost certain that it will leave bruises, but you didn’t care at this very moment. His grunts against your hands became more and more intense, and you started to feel he was about to give in. In between your fingers, small drips of salivas were started to escape. You couldn’t give up your grip now, so you made it even more tight, drawing your lips closer to your hands, you whispered as your sore wrist fastened its path “I’m here for you. Give everything to me.”

His panting became incontrolable, his eyes rolled out, his head dropped back, before he finally reached his peak. You felt the deep vibration of his ultimate cry on your hand, as your other hand was dripping of hot seed. You slowly removed your other hand from his face, and could contemplate your masterpiece : the Soldier absolutely looked like a mess, with his red face, his eyes blinking furiously, covered with his own saliva. You left his leg, both your hands dripping of his bodily fluids. You used the one that was on his lips to pick his head and forced him to look at you. You ravished your vision of this man who absolutely surrendered to your good care, deeply satisfied with your attention. You cradled his face, and you took a large lick of his spit from his chin to his mouth. Where he leaned for a wet and warm kiss. You took a good taste of him, intoxicated by whatever pheromones he could diffuse around you.

You look at him another few seconds, before recluandly moving away, to the bathroom where you not only washed your hands, but came back with a wet towel. You first cleaned with infinite care his face, and then his genitals, making sure he wouldn’t have any kind of unpleasant sensation as he had a big day ahead of him. You were his doctor and caretaker, and he had a mission to prepare. He seemed to respond well to the cleaning, not really expressive, but he made no sudden move. You could see him sighing with ease, closing his eyes as he rubbed his cheek in your palm again, when you were caressing him with the wet towel. You could still hear a loud satisfying purr. If you didn’t specifically ask him to kill someone less that an hour ago, you would actually find this absolutely adorable.

You breathed in and out, making sure he was okay. “Are you feeling better ?...” He nodded, visibly relaxed, as he was closing his pants but not much more expressive than before. He stood up, in front of you, like nothing happened. “Yes.” But to your surprise he added a second later. “Thank you, doctor.” You smiled at him as you couldn’t keep yourself from making your knuckles caressing his cheek, and finally tracking the shape of his jaws. “Good boy.” You heard yourself say, wondering what the fuck was wrong with you.He didn’t react. All the shivers, purring, sighing, and moans disappeared as soon as his pants closed. It was for the best, and you quickly took your hand back, clearing your throat. You call the guards. The Winter Soldier was fully ready for his mission preparation, and you asked them to give him some time to recover from… his cryostatic, before you would start the procedure.

In the meantime, you need a shower. A long, hot, steamy, shower.

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cablesscutie · 3 years

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Oh could you do 3 or 17 for the zutara fluff prompt please?☺️

I love both of these- thank you! I'm going to save #17 for a little later, so here's #3: “You’re everything I could’ve wanted and more.”

PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3

Zuko flips down the visor in his car to fuss with his hair one last time. Mai and Ty Lee had insisted that he pull part of it up to keep him from hiding behind his hair like he was wont to do when he got nervous. In this particular situation, Zuko found that it made him extra nervous to know that he didn’t have that security blanket, scar on full display. This was why he didn’t do blind dates. This poor girl was already suffering through the awkwardness of an ex’s wedding, and now she was going to have to do it while pretending to be vaguely attracted to him.

Her text the previous night had included a reminder of the time and address, as well as an apologetic note that, hey I’m sorry to heap more awkward on this, but apparently this ex is friends with another of my ex’s and it ended Badly...and I might’ve implied that you were a little more significant to me than a blind date? Really I’m so so sorry and I can tell them you have food poisoning or something if this is too awkward, but really all you have to do is not mention that we’re strangers. Sorry!! He’d had absolutely zero clue how to appropriately respond to that message. His first impulse had been to think that of course he didn’t want to pretend to be her boyfriend in front of not one, but two of her ex’s. But Mai probably wouldn’t see this as too much for the favor he owed her. Then his brain had flitted unwillingly to the Instagram account Ty Lee had showed him, and before he could stop himself, his fingers were tapping out That’s fine - see you then.

“Okay,” Zuko sighs, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles go white. He closes his eyes and pulls in a deep breath, holds it, and on the exhale unclenches his hands and forces himself out of the car. The temple rises up before him in a series of spires and exterior staircases, terraced gardens overflowing with practical plants rising up around all of it. He follows the trickle of people who seem like they know where they’re going, glancing about idly for a familiar face.

She finds him first, which he probably should’ve expected given that his face stands out pretty clearly. She’s also more petite than he’d expected. If she weren’t wearing heels, the top of her head would probably tuck easily under his chin. Zuko shakes his head quickly to erase the thought before it can take hold properly, which unfortunately comes at the same instant that she asks, “Zuko?” and leaves her blinking at him in utter confusion. “Oh. I, uh.”

“I mean yes!” he rushes to correct, reaching out to grab her elbow as she starts to turn away. “Zuko. Me. I mean.” Fuck, he’s such a moron. He clears his throat and holds out his hand to shake. “Hi, Zuko here.” There’s a familiar and terrible heat in his cheeks and spilling down his neck, and he wishes to Agni not for the first time that he could be anyone but Zuko right now.

Katara laughs at him, as she should, but it is a kind laughter, all dimpled cheeks and sparkling eyes. The pictures hadn’t done her justice. “Hi Zuko,” she says, taking his hand and shaking it. “Katara here.” He can’t help but return her smile, goofy as it probably comes across. “Thank you again so much for coming to this shitshow,” she tells him as she drops his hand. “We should probably head inside - it’s starting soon.”

Zuko offers her his arm to be escorted up the stairs of the temple. It’s an old-fashioned gesture that has always gotten mixed reception, but Uncle has drilled manners into him so relentlessly that he always falls back on them reflexively when in a panic. Luckily, she slips her hand into the crook of his elbow with a smile, and his shoulders settle as he guides them both. Along the way, she catches him focusing on the planters, and asks, “do you like gardening?”

“My mother did,” he says reflexively, and he turns to her in time to catch the very moment she registers the past tense. He wants to kick himself for setting up pity or prying questions, but she just gives his arm a slight squeeze and says,

“So did mine. The flowers blooming every summer was her favorite part of the year.”

Usually, he is precious with his memories, but hearing the echo of his own grief in her wistful tone makes him actually want to share his mother with her. “She came from a family of traditional healers, and wanted to keep up the knowledge, so she grew all kinds of herbs and wildflowers that were used in old cures.”

She hums, and they walk along in silence for another moment before she says, “Did she teach you anything?”

“She started to.” It’s bittersweet, his mother’s unfinished legacy. “I have her books though, so maybe someday I’ll finish studying them.” Katara smiles at him, part sympathy, part understanding. Zuko’s heart pounds. When her eyes meet his, he almost wants to hide because it feels like she can see too much.

“Did you learn any cures for nerves?” Katara asks, the sardonic dip of her voice a gift to lighten the mood. Zuko smiles back, starting to laugh off the heavy conversation, but a flash of something catches his attention.

Katara’s eyes go wide as he lets go of her to crouch down and carefully pick a purple blossom. He does it just the way his mother had shown him, finding the right joint in the stem to make sure it will grow back, and with a gentle bend and twist, it breaks between his fingers. The fragrance follows him as he rises and offers the sprig of lavender to Katara. In trying to indicate that she should smell it, he almost shoves it up her nose when she leans towards it, but she giggles and wrinkles her nose adorably. Her fingers fold around his as she slips the stem out of his grasp.

“Thank you.

“Mom used to put a little vase of lavender in me and my sister’s rooms to help us sleep,” Zuko explained.

“I feel better already.” She sniffs the flower again as she slips her arm through his again to properly enter the ceremony space, her eyes fluttering closed for a fraction of a second that steals his breath away. This is actually going well, he thinks in utter astonishment. I keep tripping over my tongue like a moron, but for some reason she seems to like it. A voice in the back of his head that sounds uncomfortably like his teenage self sneers, Wow, she must be really desperate not to look single. Must be some impressive ex’s. Zuko’s heart stutters and slows back to normal. Right. This is a favor. He needs to focus.

Not least because his distraction causes him to walk right into the man who appears in front of Katara. “Sorry,” he says reflexively, stumbling back. Katara’s grip on his arm has tightened, keeping him from dragging both of them off balance. Despite her small stature, she is rooted firmly, anchoring them both. He realizes why as soon as the guy pretends to dust off his sport coat (which is not particularly neat to begin with) and purrs, “So Kat, this is the new guy?” as though Zuko isn’t even there. So this is the other ex.

“Zuko,” he and Katara say at the same time, in the same steely tone.

The ex looks briefly startled, but recovers enough to shake Zuko’s hand. “The name’s Jet.”

Zuko has never met Jet before, and yet he knows from the curl of his smile that he has made out with several Jets at various parties in college. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Jet squeezes Zuko’s hand a little harder, just to the edge of macho discomfort. “Pleasure’s all mine.”

Katara scoffs - almost inaudibly, but it’s there - and Zuko can’t help but look to her and say, “It would be, wouldn’t it?” It’s the kind of snarky remark he and Mai used to share under their breath at their parents’ insufferable dinner parties back in high school. The two women are nothing alike, but there is something similar to the ease he feels with his best friend as he stands beside her. She bites her lip, and her eyes glitter with silent laughter, and Zuko feels a much gentler heat kindling under his skin. Jet manages to look confused and dismissive in one twitch of his ridiculous eyebrows, but returns his attention to Katara undeterred. His eyes linger as they trace obviously over the v of her dress’s neckline and admittedly tempting curves draped in navy satin before he flashes her a pair of puppy dog eyes and asks, “Save me a dance?” When she doesn’t immediately respond, he tilts his head and entreats, “For old times’ sake?”

Zuko is irritated to once again be entirely ignored, and the possessive part of him wants to snap at Jet that all of Katara’s dances are already reserved for him. Hard-earned self control wins out though, and Zuko manages to remind himself that despite his attraction and the ruse he is meant to be perpetuating, he is not actually Katara’s boyfriend. There is no real reason for him to be upset if she chooses to dance with Jet. There are several reasons for the flutter in his chest when her expressive face hardens to stone.

There is no excuse or cutting joke, just one word, a complete sentence: “No.” She gives him nothing to play off of, no buttons to push or entreaties to make, and he backs down quickly.

“Oh. Uh. Okay, I guess I’ll just...see you at the reception?”

“Yeah, you’ll see us there,” Zuko cuts in, mouth stumbling ahead without him. He puts too much significance on the word us, but seems to bother Jet, and Katara leans into his side, so he figures it’s okay. Jet lifts his chin in a parting nod to him. Zuko just meets his eyes evenly as the other man turns away to find his seat. Shaking his head as he watches the guy go, Zuko says, “Pft. If your friend invited that guy, I think you need better friends,” because he has no filter. And then he remembers yet again that he doesn’t know Katara, much less her friends, and he is overstepping all over this situation. His free hand comes up to smack himself in the face. “Shit. Sorry I’m probably screwing this up so bad; I’m the worst blind date in history.”

A small, warm hand closes around his wrist and tugs his hand away. Katara shifts to stand in front of him, blocking the rest of the wedding full of strangers from his view as his attention narrows only to the bounce of her hair and the crescent of her smile.

“You’re everything I could’ve wanted and more.”

Here's the prompt list!

#zutara #zutara fic #my writing #ask game

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jokerfan99 · 3 years

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My Top 10 Favorite Anime Villains (Updated) by DarkChild316

In a different time and a different world, I did a list of “My 10 Favorite Anime Villains”. I am older now, and hopefully much wiser and now thanks to the global pandemic and my new subscriptions to Hulu and Funimation I’ve had the opportunity to go back and revisit so many classic anime that I feel like I should re-do it. Plus I’ve gone back and looked at my previous list and shook my head thinking to myself: “My God man, what in the f**k were you thinking with some of these choices!” So, I’ve gone back and redone the list, now this list is strictly for the men only. If you want to see a list dedicated to my favorite female villains, check out my list of “My Top 10 Favorite Anime Villainesses.” But for this list, here is my updated list of My Top 10 Favorite Anime Villains:

#10. Shishiho Makoto (Rurouni Kenshin): Growing up as a kid, Ruroni Kenshin was one of the first anime I had ever watched, and this guy was someone who I hated with a passion. Looking back at it years later, I realize now what an amazing villain and foil to Kenshin that Makoto was. Unlike a lot of villains on this list, Makoto wasn’t just evil for the sake of being evil, Makoto’s evil came from the worst type of trauma: betrayal! In this case the betrayal came from Makoto’s own government, where Makoto survived not only multiple gunshots, but being doused in oil and burned alive, leaving him in complete and utter agony. What puts Shishio on my list is what he manages to do after surviving death. He compiles an army of the best fighters Japan has to offer and plots to overthrow the entire Meiji Government. While in complete agony. Who else can claim that? Did I also mention he’s topping the list of the best fighters in the show? His swordsmanship is second only to Kenshin himself as he proves in their absolutely epic fight.

#9. Hisoka Morrow (Hunter x Hunter): Hunter x Hunter is a show with several great villains that truly stand out, and while Meruem was memorable, pardon me for believing that Hisoka was the standout villain from that show. A devious killer and master Nen user, Hisoka is driven by little more than his desire to find and kill strong opponents. Be they young children or master criminals, he’ll pursue them to the ends of the Earth with a bloodlust on par with that of a wild predator. Likewise, he doesn’t care what happens to himself or others in this pursuit. Mass civilian casualties, the loss of his own villainous allies or even the loss of his own limbs barely phases him, so long as he gets to fight with someone that tests his limits. As a result, he more often than not embodies chaos incarnate, wreaking havoc in his pursuit of battle and leaving a mountain of corpses behind him. Needless to say, this puts him at odds with the series’ protagonists at regular intervals. Not only do Gon and his friends fit the bill for what he seeks, but they often take on enemies that prove to be exactly what Hisoka is looking for. And yet, this also serves to make him all the more interesting. Where other villains might strike out at the protagonists and heroes immediately, Hisoka schemes, allies himself with and double-crosses people regularly, always finding the best angle to work in order to reach his goals. He may not be a world-ending anime villain on the level of a Meruem with seismic ambitions, but he’s undeniably the most interesting and brilliant villain in Hunter x Hunter to see at work.

#8. Izaya Orihara (Durarara!!): If you think of a list of top anime villains and this guy isn’t one of the first people who comes to mind, please raise your hands so I can have a few words with you in private with no cameras or eyewitnesses. The crazy thing about Izaya is that he doesn’t even realize he’s evil, and that’s what makes him great. He loves humanity; from the depths of his bones he loves us all. This is why he makes it onto my list; he does progressively more cruel acts against humans, putting people in situations that generally lead to their deaths. He is also a master of parkour and highly skilled with a switchblade in his hand (as evident in the above picture), which he generally only uses in dire situations or fights against Shizuo. In short, I absoulutely love this guy. I thoroughly enjoyed the way he manages to manipulate an entire populous, and that’s why he’s more than earned a spot on my list.

#7. Dio Brando (Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure): You might have thought it was someone else, but it was me, Dio! All meme-worthy jokes aside, Dio Brando is unquestionably one of the most iconic anime villains of all time and, thanks to his series’ late-blooming popularity outside of Japan thanks largely to the 2012 anime adaptation, one that still feels modern in our minds. Dio is a tenacious bastard that takes advantage of the generosity of the Joestar family to further his own power, being intolerably dickish to Jonathan by constantly tearing him down, trying to make him look bad in front of his dad, spreading rumors to sully his reputation, and sabotaging his relationships. This escalates into killing his dog (his f***ikg dog of all things!), poisoning and later stabbing his adoptive father (I mean WTF!), and becoming a freakin vampire. Even after decapitation, Dio gets his revenge and sets in motion many of the events of the series, making a formal return in Stardust Crusaders as the main villain once again. With raw ambition taken to the extreme, iconic lines, poses, and outfits, incredible abilities from Aztec mask-induced vampirism and the time-stopping power of The World, Dio’s menacing presence towers over his series and over anime as a whole, which makes him MORE than deserving of a spot on my list.

#6. Light Yagami (Death Note): Yes, he’s a VILLAIN, get over yourselves Light Yagami fanboys! Anyway, there are a number of different adjectives and superlatives that could be used to described the lead character of Death Note: Diabolical, calculating, and determined to make the world in his own image all describe Light who was easily the most clever man in Death Note, as evidenced by the layers upon layers that composed his elaborate plans. Light started out as a good kid, doing well in school and heading to a bright career in police work like his father. But when he gets possession of the death note, he begins a remarkable descent into a disturbing mastermind who becomes judge, jury, and executioner for the entire world. But what truly makes Light's character stand out remains complicated throughout the story. His ultimate goal is to make the world a happier, safer place; a noble but perhaps misguided goal. His idealism and nobility still shine through when he doesn’t have the Death Note. When he temporarily relinquishes ownership of the death note to throw L off his trail, Light loses all memory of the death note and he reverts to his normal personality. His sense of morality returns and he shows more compassion for those around him. He even refuses to use Misa Amane to get information out of her when L asks him to. These qualities help to create a complex character who ends up being a detestable villain, yet you still kind of root for him to come out of this story as a winner. Light’s progression through the series is marked by his sheer brilliance. He's got a calculated and strategic mind that would make the great philosopher Machiavelli jealous, and the power of the death note adds a callousness that makes him free to use people in whatever way necessary to accomplish his goals. It’s highly entertaining to see his intricate plans play out. But Light’s messiah-like ego is just as big as his brain, and that arrogance ultimately leads to his tragic downfall.

#5. The Major (Hellsing): An evil Nazi Scientist, I know everyone is just rolling their eyes right now thinking I’m reaching for the low-hanging fruit for this one, but just hear me out here. While he may seem like an obvious pick for a list like this, The Major’s goals, however, are somehow far more unhinged than what may first appear. Despite being an impassioned orator and uncompromising strategist willing to sacrifice countless soldiers, the Major himself had no especial loyalty or passion for the cause of Millennium. His sole obsession is to plunge the world into an unending conflict to the point of endangering not only the lives of others but also his own. The Major’s leadership of Millennium, his decades espousing the genocidal ideology of fascists, and subsequent war against the Hellsing organization, the Vatican, and the entire world serve only as a pretext to satiate his insatiable bloodlust. The Major is one of anime’s most insidious villains, a charismatic, nihilistic sociopath driven purely by his sadomasochistic death wish.

#4. Shou Tucker (Fullmetal Alchemist): Now, you may be recalling that in my previous version of this list, I had Envy listed as my choice as my favorite villain from this show. Well after careful reconsideration, I’ve had to reevaluate my decision and give that spot to this creep, because while Envy’s actions were despicable to a point, they PALE in comparison to this guy! He only really appears in one episode if I remember correctly, yet in that one single episode, he made more of an impact then most villains make in a lifetime, which really says a lot about this guy’s character. What was it that made him so memorable you ask? Well, it could have something to do with the fact that this man transmutaed his own dog and daughter to create a talking chimera, which hadn’t been done before, and for what other reason…all in the name of recognition in the world of alchemy! That mere fact alone made this guy the most hated man in all of anime, the fact that he sacrificed his own family for the sake of fame, with absolutely no hint of remorse, made this guy the definition of an absolute living piece of shit and the only thing worse is how the episode ended, but I won’t spoil that one for you if you haven’t seen it.

#3. Gendo Ikari (Neon Genesis Evangelion) Up next is a man competing with the likes of Medusa Gorgon for the title of “Anime’s Worst Parent”, Gendo Ikari, please step up to the front of the congregation. Now Gendo is a man who’s list of atrocities throughout Evangelion is far too many to name, but I’m going to try my best to list them here: You have being actively complicit in the premature instigation of a biblical apocalypse, resulting in a near extinction-level event that caused the death of nearly two-thirds of the human population. Emotionally neglecting his own son Shinji estranging himself from him for over twelve years, only to offer him up as a sacrificial pawn in his bid to artificially bootstrap humanity’s ascent into evolutionary godhood so that he could be reunited with his dead wife. Cloning said wife’s DNA into a harem of emotionally dependent albino ingenues who share a dogged infatuation for their creator. And that’s not even mentioning the horrific emotional abuse and mental manipulation he inflicts on Dr. Ritsuko Akagi and her mother Naoko. All-in-all Gendo is proof positive that love not only has the capacity to overcome any obstacle, but sometimes it can truly make monsters out of us all.

#2. Griffith (Berserk): Griffith did nothing wrong; at least, not by his own drives and ambitions. A peasant who grew to become the leader of his own mercenary band, Griffith was a self-driven man who pursued his desires with unparalleled efficiency. No matter the situation or obstacle, he found a way to overcome them, whether that meant facing down an army of thousands or assassinating a country’s leaders. All the while, he amassed a legion of friends and followers who would follow him to hell and back, caring for him as much or more than he cared for them. As a result, they were dragged down with him when his ambitions saw him imprisoned, tortured and maimed. They cared little though, risking life and limb to save him and help him salvage a life with what he had left. That wasn’t enough for Griffith though. When given the option to become a demon and continue the pursuit of his dreams, he whole-heartedly accepted it; even though it came at the cost of sacrificing the lives of each and every one of his friends and allies. But that wasn’t the worst of it, to further spite the early desertion of Guts, Griffith proceeds to rape Casca, Guts’ love interest, in front of him as Guts is held down by demons. So yes, Griffith did nothing wrong by himself. By everyone else though, he did them the worst of injustices, and continues to do so with each breath he takes, all of which makes him a compelling and infuriating villain.

#1. Johan Liebert (Monster): I’ve covered a wide variety of monsters (pun fully intended) on this list, but THIS monster (again, pun FULLY intended) truly takes the cake when it comes to anime villains. A serial killer who would fit in well in any blockbuster film, Monster told the story of a man who had truly become monstrous; a charismatic, intelligent sociopath with no other goal than to kill everyone else in the world. Johan didn't just kill people, he made other people into monsters just like him. This skill of his corruption is first displayed in his youth, when he used stories to convince the other boys in his orphanage to kill all the staff, and each other. Johan is often compared to Light Yagami of Death Note, but the two couldn’t be any more different. Light's fatal (and genius) flaw is his own ego, which leads him to put his own life above all else, even his goal of changing the world. But Johan has never been afraid of death. Quite the opposite, he welcomes and embraces it, being more than willing to put his own life at risk, and one of his signature traits is how he challenges people to shoot him. Another of Jonah’s signature traits is his skills as a masterful manipulator. Where Light and other on this list had to resort to supernatural means to get what they wanted, Johan just used his own wits and knowledge of human nature. He's easily the most frightening villain on this list because he’s the truest to life villain on this list and he exposes the base human nature of his victims and of human society. Monster's remarkable story was almost entirely due to Johan alone, and it’s why he’s #1 on my list.

So that's my updated list, what did you guys think about it? Love it, hated it? Go on and tell me what you think and let me know who your favorite anime villains are. See you soon!!!

Deviantart: https://www.deviantart.com/darkchild316

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everything-y-nothing · 3 years

Text

Bonnie moves to Berkeley.

Rating: T Word Count: 724 Character(s): Bonnie + Caroline Summary: After returning from her tour of Africa, Bonnie moves to the West Coast. Caroline is not taking it very well. __________

Bonnie believed, with absolute certainty, that the universe conspired to relocate her to California. Starting with a tarot reading, then a couple of premonitions, her admission to Cal Berkeley and the timely sale of her childhood home – all of it fell into place so effortlessly. Perhaps the ancestors had bigger plans for her, or maybe it was a reward for saving the world. Whatever the case she appreciated the opportunity. What she didn't appreciate was the constant stream of new messages from the friends left behind in Mystic Falls. Well, one person in particular...

“Hey, Care,” Bonnie manages to answer her cellphone upon crossing the threshold of her sunny 1930s apartment.

“BONNIE BENNETT!! Have you completely forgotten the primary function of a mobile phone?—You must have because it’s not Instagram!! Why haven’t you returned any of my calls or texts in the past five days!?" The sound of Caroline’s shrill voice echoes against the half-decorated walls and hardwood floors.

“Calm down, mom,” Bonnie chuckles, her front door magically shuts and locks itself. She inwardly thanks herself for enchanting the door for moments like these where her hands are full. Caroline's ranting continues as Bonnie sets down her purse along with a couple of new plants acquired from a nearby nursery. Next, she untangles herself from the leashed dog at her ankles. It's not until she hears Caroline mention 'serial killer' and Weekend at Bernie's in the same breath that she decides to interrupt her friend's insane diatribe.

“—Do you need a glass of wine? A Xanax? Or maybe—I don’t know—a big fat blunt? I’m gonna need you to dial it back several notches.”

The blonde vampire gasps at the meaningless insults, “1) How dare you. Abby could never... and 2) Seriously!? Gross. The devil’s grass and I don't mix and you know this. Why would you even suggest—wait, are you becoming a pothead now!? What is happening to you?”

Bonnie eye-rolls at Caroline’s ridiculous inquisition, toeing off her shoes and removing a delicate stack of protection bracelets and rings from her person to rest atop a rounded selenite charging plate.

“Caroline, that's it!! I'm calling 'Piglet,'" Bonnie exclaims. Named after the Winnie the Pooh character, 'Piglet' became the childhood safeword Bonnie would use to save Caroline from her manic thoughts and keep both of their sanity intact. Her frazzled friend offers a quick 'sorry' followed by a deep calming breath.

"And FYI, the weed out here hits different—they got the good shit,” the witch releases a sigh and flops down on the bed with her new furry rescue companion, Ziggy, sitting happily beside her.

“Anyway...you’re obviously keeping up with my IG stories, so I know you know that I’ve been settling into my new place and becoming the best new dog mom to Ziggy. What’s going on? How are the girls? Sorry I missed our regularly scheduled FaceTime sesh this week.”

“The girls are great—just missing their Aunt Bonnie. I apologize for flipping out on you. It’s just that…Mystic Falls isn’t the same without you, B. We have never lived this far apart before and I kinda/really hate it. This adjustment sucks,” Caroline whines in frustration but resigns, “but don’t get me wrong because I completely understand why you felt the need to break out on your own and I fully support you shining your light and finding your happy, and living your best life wherever that may be.”

Bonnie hums knowingly. “Thanks, Care. I miss you, too.”

A pregnant pause threatens to settle between them. It consists of Caroline’s grief over Stefan and the 3,000 miles between her and her soul sister, mixed with Bonnie’s bittersweet memories of the hometown she both loved and loathed, and topped with the creeping guilt of leaving behind her closest friends during a period of their collective mourning. But this was not the time for emotional unpacking.

Brushing away the negative feelings before they can permeate, Bonnie shifts the conversation, “So, I’m beginning to understand why they call it Berzerkely. Today I saw the most bizarre house. It was mollusk-shaped and had like...fins?”

“That is some hippie-dippie shit and I am officially intrigued. Tell me everything!”

Bonnie laughs heartily in response to Caroline’s enthusiasm and starts to detail the architectural anomaly, grateful to save heavy topics for another day.

End.

__________

Note: This moodboard has been sitting in drafts for a bit, but I felt like it needed some context and I was uninspired too lazy to develop something until now 😅 Thanks for organizing Bonnie/Klonnie Week, @24kmagiic! Lastly, the house Bonnie refers to is called the Fish House by architect Eugene Tsui.

#bonnie week 2021 #day 4: graphic creators #day 5: drabble headcanon #bonnie bennett #baroline #tvd #moodboard #ficlet #bear witness and enjoy #still not a writer #my edit

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

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Survey #449-450

(both from yesterday)

What do you dislike about the house you live in? It's in the suburbs. Have you thought more about your funeral, or your wedding? My hypothetical wedding. Dinosaurs or unicorns? DINO BOIZ. What do you think of Maroon 5? I like some of their old stuff, and one or two of their newer songs, like "Payphone." What about Coldplay? I enjoy them. Fall Out Boy? Love 'em. Katy Perry? She's okay, I guess. There are a few songs I enjoy. Have you ever snuck into an R-rated movie when you weren’t old enough to see it without parents? No. What is your favorite Disney show? I don't have the slightest clue what's on Disney nowadays. What do you miss most about elementary school? Digging tunnels in the sandbox during recess with my friends. :'( When was the last time you saw the person you had your first kiss with? The start of February 2017. Hard to believe it's been four whole years... Is there anything hanging from the doorknob in your room? Ha, yes. Mom got me a little sign that says, "If I can't wear my flipflops, I'm not going," lmfao. All I wear are flipflops. What's your opinion on wearing pajamas in public? Do you yourself do that? I LITERALLY couldn't care less. I wear pjs in public sometimes; it really depends on where I'm going. What was the most severe punishment your parents gave you when you were growing up? Taking away technology was the worst. Do you usually fill up at the same gas station? Mom goes to a few different ones, depending on proximity and price. Have you ever owned any pet birds? What kinds/colours? I have not. I used to want a cockatiel for a long time, though. Do you pay much attention to your YouTube recommendations? If so, what was the last video that caught your attention? Kinda, I guess. I'm not sure what was the last recommended video I clicked. What has been the happiest time of your life so far? It's complicated. Most of my best memories are from high school with Jason, yet at the same time I was HORRIBLY depressed. I think my most pure happiness when I was really progressing with recovery. Moving on from him, losing tons of weight, feeling motivated... Have you ever had a crush on a celebrity? Who? My two biggest celebrity crushes ever have been/is Link Neal and Mark Fischbach. Do you have any fears you would rarely admit to anyone? Nah. Admitting fears isn't a big deal to me at all. What website do you spend most of your time on? YouTube. What did you have for dinner last night? A chicken sandwich. What could you talk about for hours? Meerkats, Silent Hill, Mark... Do you have a lamp beside your bed? Yes. What's your favorite ice cream topping? Chocolate syrup. What was the last TV show you binge watched? Avatar: The Last Airbender. Would you rather eat burgers or tacos? Oh, burgers for sure. I don't likes tacos. Did your mother change her maiden name when/if she got marred? Yes. Do you use TikTok? Nope. Are you closer to your mother or father? Mom. Do you own any costumes? No. Would you care if your SO went to a strip club? Hm. So long as they're not laying hands on any of the strippers and they ASKED me first, I don't think I'd care? I'm pretty sure I'd also only be okay with that if we were a long-term couple where very strong trust has been built. How helpful are your parents to you? Would they help you to pay for your first apartment? College? Where does the line end? They are so, so very helpful and I'm pretty sure would go to the ends of the earth to help me in any way they could. I know they WOULD help pay for the things you mentioned, but it's not something I want them to do. I want to be able to financially provide for myself, one day... Have you ever had to evacuate due to natural disaster? No. What video games did you have when you were growing up? LOADS. I looooooooved video games. What was the first election you ever voted in? This last one, actually. Can you hear anything right now? Yeah. I'm watching Gab play the Resident Evil 3 remake on hardcore mode. What's the coolest, most unusual pet you can think of? I've always thought sugar gliders were quite interesting as pets. I wanted one for a looong time, but I am not informed on how well they do in captivity and if it should even be legal for me to truly want one anymore. Have you ever seen a UFO or other weird object in the sky? By definition, it was a UFO. Sometimes I do even wonder if it was an alien spacecraft, given JUST how strange that shit was. I won't explain it again, just 'cuz I've done it in many surveys before. Are there any albums you know every single lyric to? I could probably nail Ozzy's Black Rain. What's your go-to painkiller? Advil. Does your mom have a celebrity look-alike? No, but there's a celebrity with her exact name. Do you think it’s pretty when 100s of balloons are let loose into the sky? NO NO NO NO NO that shit is SO upsetting. Where do you think they end up??? It's littering. Animals get choked and tangled by them all the time. What do you draw more than anything else? Definitely meerkats. Have you ever visited someone in a psychiatric home or ward? No, but people have visited me in one. Have you ever received a parking fine? No. Are you in any group chats? Who's in them? No. Do you have a lisp? No. Do you have an Instagram account? Do you use it often? I have three, but one's pretty much dead. I don't post stuff regularly on my other two either, really... Can you parallel park? I would absolutely hit another car. Have you ever played paintball? Did you get hit? No, that shit's dumb. You can get really hurt. What was your favorite fairy tale when you were a kid? Maybe Little Red Riding Hood? Are your parents still together? If not, do you know why? No. Mostly financial disagreements, but I know there's stuff I don't know. Have you ever been evicted? Why? Yes, because we couldn't keep up with rent. Have you ever worked as a manager or supervisor? Noooo. What was the last thing you voted for? So Snake Discovery (a reptile channel I love) hosted an enclosure build-off recently, and the winners were selected by fans via voting. The guy I voted for got 3rd. What's the most amazing animal you've ever seen in captivity? I've been very close to an elephant at a zoo once. They're magnificent. Having been to Sea World as a kid (I would NEVER go now), I also saw the killer whale show. As much of a spectacle as it was, it was animal abuse regardless. Do you like white chocolate? It's okay in small doses. Have you ever eaten snow? Yeah. Do you talk to your pets? Um, duh. Have you ever adopted a stray? (Cat or dog?) Cats, yes. Do you read about any mythology? (Greek, Roman, Norse, Egyptian, etc) No, not by my own will. I DO love mythology, I just... don't read it. Do you ever use bath bombs? No. Have you ever gotten angry at an employee and complained to the manager? No. Have you ever sent your food back at a restaurant? Yes, because they got my meal wrong. I was REALLY shy to do it, but I made sure to do it politely and apologetically. Do you sleep in a bra? What mad lad sleeps in a bra???????????? Has your ex ever gone out with someone close to you? No. Can you suggest someone funny on YouTube? I'll go for someone what isn't my obvious vote, ha ha. There are truly so many, but Garrett Watts is high on the list. Elena Bateman, too. Can you do a handstand? No. Has anyone close to you ever been suicidal? Yes. Have you ever broken someone's heart and didn't care? Tyler sure acted like I did, and to be entirely frank, I didn't care very much, but only because it was a HUGE overreaction and I knew he'd be fine quick. What color is your hairbrush? It's just a white comb. Who was your most recent call from? My psychiatrist. Have you ever watched someone die? Only animals... It's the absolute worst. Are you currently "seeing" someone? No. Are you friends with someone who's autistic? I might be, but I know my niece is on the spectrum. Do you like humans? To be entirely transparent... I think I wish humans were never a thing. We've done so, so much harm to the planet, some things irrevocable. Earth would be a much healthier, far more peaceful place if we'd never existed. Do you like pandas? I love pandas. P.S., fuck outta here if you're one of the people who don't support conservation efforts for them. That shit blows my mind. What do you think of Evanescence? They're great. Amy's voice is absolutely incredible. I don't even think that's an opinion, but global fact, ha ha. What do you think of Avenged Sevenfold? I like some of their stuff. I haven't heard a whole lot though, honestly. What do you think of Halestorm? ^ Do you think you are attractive? God no. I don't see me as an attractive person at all. Do you like dinosaurs? I love 'em; I was OBSESSED as a kid, and my first aspired job was a paleontologist. Do you like lasagna? No. Do you share a room? No. When was the last time you climbed a tree? Never, actually. Have you ever been hospitalized for more than 2 weeks? I think my longest was three. What can you do that none of your friends can do? I dunno. Why did you last go to the airport? Mom and I were dropping Sara off so she could go home. Who was the last person to see you in your underwear? My mom. Who’s the most attractive female you’ve ever seen? Maybe Alissa White-Gluz from Arch Enemy? Or my friend Alon. I'm certain there's more, because women are just so fuckin beautiful asdkfajlwejkrjqwe Red, white, yellow, or pink roses? I actually like the original, rich red. Do you think someone would ever want to marry you? Well, two people have, but one absolutely doesn't anymore and the other knows that it's not healthy or emotionally safe for either of us to imagine that at this time. I don't know if anyone ever will again. Do you like Thanksgiving? No. Like I enjoy the focus on thankfulness, but the history isn't right and I don't enjoy the food. Do you ever wear colored eye liner? No. Have you ever used a darkroom? No. Have you ever been "popular"? No. Has someone ever tried to convert you? Yes. Have you ever been told that you dress like a slut? No, not that how someone dresses has any relevance to their sexual activity. What’s your most recent obsession? Final Fantasy X jfccccccc. Video games or board games? The former. Are you scared of tarantulas? As much as I talk about them... you can probably tell I have a massive interest in them, ha ha. However, even though I love them, they're still sorta scary. Like, threat poses are no joke. And it's terrifying on the very rare occasion they hiss. During Covid, do you wear a mask or no mask? I'm fully vaccinated, and yet I still wear a mask because I'm a considerate human fucking being. Do you have a PlayStation 4? No, but I reeeeaaally want one. :/ Have you ever played Fortnite? Nah, not my type of game. Do you like anime? Yeah. Have you ever been on a boat? Yeah. I was always SO excited as a kid when Dad would take the boat out for a fishing trip. Have you ever played Kingdom Hearts? I've played some of it with Jason. I wasn't a fan of it. Have you ever built a snowman? Yes. DC or Marvel? I don't really have a preference.

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Do you prefer your nails long or short? Why? Short, because I can't keep my nails long for the life of me. I pick/peel my nails badly. Do you have any vinyl records? No. Are you still in touch with your best friend from high school? No. Have you ever visited any celebrity gravesites? No. How do you feel about archaeology? It's extremely fascinating. Would you have a big cat (like a tiger) for a pet if you could? No. I could never provide the environment they need, and it's simply not safe. They are not domestic animals, and even the ones that seem most tame can surprise you. What are your favorite smells? Cinnamon rolls, coffee, lilac, fresh baked bread, barbecue, etc. Have you ever had to block people online for harassing you? I'm not sure, actually... What is your favorite thing to do on The Sims? Surveys have a lot of questions about those games... I only ever played the ones that focused on animals, and I think I most enjoyed breeding them and naming the bbz. :^) And watching their behavior. Which hair color you've had has been your favorite? Red. If you were stupid-rich, would you ever actually want a mansion? No. I do not need all that room, nor am I wasting my money on such excessive space. What drinking games have you played? None. Do you take lessons for anything? No. Has something really heavy ever fallen on you? No. If you wear makeup, what colors do you usually wear? Only black. Does your shower have curtains or a glass door/wall? Curtains. If you have more than one pet, do they ever get jealous of each other? One is a snake and the other is a cat, so. Is there a room in your house that you don’t like going in? No. Besides salt and butter, do you put anything on your popcorn? Nothing besides what you mentioned. Are you lonely? I'm way too lonely for it to be healthy. Do you like pineapple? Yep. Have you ever seen fireflies? Yes; they're endemic to here. Have you ever trespassed? As a kid, yes. Do you raise your hand or participate in class? I did sometimes. Are you afraid of heights? Yes. Are you afraid of the dark? No. Would you ever be your school’s mascot who wears that costume? No. Have you ever written a poem? I've written a lot. Would you ever be a tornado chaser? FUCK TO THE HELL NO. What is your favorite thing to eat with bbq sauce, if you even like that stuff? I hate bbq sauce. Have you ever had to do a class in summer school? No. Have you ever been to the rainforest? No. Ever thought about writing a book? Yes. Have you ever had a dream where you killed someone? Yes. Have you ever solved a Rubik’s Cube? Nope. Have you seen all of the Jaws movies? No, only the first one with Tyler. It was aight. Have you ever had a black eye? No. Is your ex sexually attractive to you still? I haven't seen a picture of Jason in years, and I don't want to. Not because I care about how he looks now, it'd just be extremely triggering to see his face. I still find Sara gorgeous. Have you ever been to couple’s counseling? No. How often does your employer ask you to work overtime? N/A When was the last time you were scared? Ummmm I really can't say I know. What’s your favorite song by Rihanna? "Disturbia" is where it's AT. There's this synthwave edit of it that I positively adore. Can you speak binary? No. Have you ever had a pet that you disliked? A family pet, yes. Do you like boys with long hair? UGH yes. Do you like root beer? Not really, no. Do you like ice cream cake? Not really. Do you ever dream of yourself dying? That's not all that rare in my nightmares. What song always makes you sad? I think two songs are tied for what makes me most sad: "Stairway to Heaven" by Led Zeppelin and "Eternally Yours" by Motionless In White. Were you mean as a little kid? No; I was a sweet kid. Have you ever tried spam? No, it looks SO gross to me. How fast can you run? This is pathetic, but I don't think I CAN run. My knees are too weak. I think my weight coming down on them would just make me crumple over. Have you ever bought something from Spencer's? Yeah. Have you ever been on a diet? I've tried diets many times. Do you prefer light or dark jeans? Dark. When you listen to music, do you generally sing along, or just listen? I almost always just listen. Do you have any of your exes as friends on Facebook? Yeah. Who was your first love? Do you ever miss that person? Jason. I miss his memory every day. I say "memory" because it's been years, and I have no way of knowing who he is today. How many cars are parked at your house right now? One. Has anyone ever told you you’re a control freak? No. Do you know anyone who has gone missing? If so, were they ever found? Not personally. What was the spiciest thing you’ve ever eaten? Some wings with extremely hot sauce at Buffalo Wild Wings. Have you ever deliberately tried to get someone drunk? Um yeah, no. Do you like sprinkles on your ice cream? No. I don't like sprinkles in general. Do you know how to do the moon walk? No. Has anybody ever told you that you have a good singing voice? Yes, somehow. Onion rings or french fries? French fries, for sure. Who is the best cook that you know? Dunno. If you have your ears pierced, when did you get them pierced? When I was a kid. I don't remember the age, but I was old enough to decide myself that I wanted them pierced. If you have siblings, have they moved out or do they still live with you? They have their own places now. Do you like fried rice? Yessss. Are there any animals you refuse to touch? Some bugs. Have you ever intentionally fed a house spider? I don't believe so, no. What makes you feel lucky? That I have the family I do. What is something nice going on in your life right now? Just the gym-going, really... Who’s the worst person you’ve encountered on the Internet? An old friend I just knew as Shakes. If death wasn’t a consequence, what would you try? Maybe sky-diving, idk. Has a teacher ever told you off? No. Have you ever told off a teacher? No. Do/did you take school seriously or not? I certainly did. How do you usually cope with breakups? Not well. I obsess over how something's wrong with me and I'm not good enough for anyone. Disney princess or Disney animal movies? Animals, for sure. What's your favorite Katy Perry song? It's evading me right now... Have you ever made/tried friendship bread!? Omg, I forgot that was a thing! I actually have. I've completely forgotten the gist of it or even how it tastes, but I remember I loved it. What do you want to know about the future? If I'll ever be content and happy. What's your biggest insecurity? My weight. Ever found something disgusting in your food while eating out? No, thank god. Does the area where you live have a good or bad reputation? A very bad one. Are there any holidays that you don't celebrate? Yeah, like St. Patrick's Day, among some others. If you could find out who you're gonna marry right now, would you? Yes. Save myself time and heartbreak. How important is it to you that your partner has the same religious views? I wouldn't date someone very religious. If they're more tame about it, that's fine, but I'd prefer to not date a religious individual. Do you own a Wii? Yeah. I've kinda been wanting to play Guitar Hero or Rock Band lately on it... Do you like a lot of cheese on your pizza? "A regular, reasonable amount of cheese." <<<< This. I really don't like when things are so cheesy that it leaves a ridiculous trail when you try to separate pieces. Have you ever been made fun of because of your sexuality? Not directly to my face, but I can guarantee people I know had certain ~opinions~ on it when I came out. I also like just came out as pansexual versus bi, and I'm not even telling a lot of people in my personal life because I know they'll find the concept absolutely ridiculous. What would you do if you found an abandoned animal? "Depends on what type of an animal it was, and whether it was friendly or skittish." <<<< This. I'm obviously not going to try to usher a rabid dog over to me (I'd call a rescue or something if the animal appeared potentially dangerous), but if the animal appeared safe, my heart would absolutely lead me to try and get the animal to come to me so I could take it home and try to find the owner. Have you ever kissed someone who had a tongue piercing? No. What singer/band do you think deserves to be more famous than they are? Jonathan Young from YouTube. He is INCREDIBLE. He deserves to be picked up by a label so badly. What is your favorite PlayStation 1 game? The original Silent Hill, no competition. Do you think objectum sexuals are real, or attention seekers? I really can't imagine someone pretending to want to fuck their car for attention. I don't get it AT ALL, and it's weird as shit to me, but I mean, I don't think people can control what they're attracted to. How far out of your age bracket would you date? 21-early 30s, probs. Have you ever had an STD? No. Have you ever tried pho? No. Pick one: Crash Bandicoot or Spyro? Spyro!!!! I have the original trilogies of both series, but Spyro is where it's AT. Does your job allow piercings or tattoos? I'm unemployed, but I wouldn't work at a job that didn't, honestly. If you could dye your hair any color right now with absolutely no restrictions, what color would you dye it? Maybe like a galaxy-esque mixture of layered colors. I've wanted that for YEARS. Have you ever known a white supremacist? This region is swimming in them. Have you ever spoken to a detective before? No. Do ladders scare you? Climbing them does, yes. Do you have any tattoos on your arms? Yeah. Have you ever thrown up on anybody? Unless I did unknowingly as a baby, no. How many people have you turned down when they asked you out? Uhhh two or three, maybe? What is your favourite kind of fruit cobbler? I actually haven't tried enough to have an educated favorite, but I can say I love peach. Do you hear any other people talking right now? I'm watching a let's player play Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice, so I hear her, obviously. When was the last time you started a new medication? It's been a while, idk. What is your favourite type of nut? Cashews, I guess. I don't really like nuts, but I definitely like cashew bars. Where did you eat the best pizza you’ve ever eaten in your life? ... Domino's lmaoooo. Did you ever watch The Rugrats when you were a kid? Yeah, I loved that show. I even had two video games. Do you know anyone who was adopted? Yes. Can you name all 50 US state capital cities? No. Can you tie balloons? I can't, actually. Have you had a deep conversation with anyone today? Yeah. I wanted Sara's advice on something I'm dealing with. On your Facebook friends list, who was the last person to have their b-day? One of my sisters' was yesterday, actually. What did you/are you having for dinner tonight? I had Special K cereal. Name some healthy foods that you enjoy eating. Strawberries, apples, bananas, (sometimes) broccoli, other things that aren't coming to me. Who was the last person you Facebook messaged? My friend Girt. What flavor was the last cupcake you ate? The cupcake itself was chocolate, and the icing was uhhhh... blue? Apart from sleeping, what do you plan to do tonight? I haven't done anything of note. I'm probably going to bed soon. What’s the age difference between your parents? Two years, I think. When was the last time you ate an apple? Today. I have been on a big sliced apples w/ peanut butter kick lately. Have you had any caffeinated beverages today? I have soda every day. :x Have you eaten any chocolate today? What kind? Mom brought me a Reese's home today when she went out with a friend. How many different towns/cities have you lived in? Three. Have you ever written a song or poem for someone special? Poems, yes. Are you attracted to the last person you Facebook messaged? Not very much physically. Emotionally... I don't know. Do you have any ice cream in your freezer? What flavor is it? No. Ice cream is my #1 comfort food, so that's a big "keep out of the house."

#survey #surveys #random questions

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path-of-my-childhood · 5 years

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The Rolling Stone Interview: Taylor Swift

By: Brian Hiatt for The Rolling Stone Magazine Date: September 18th 2019

In her most in-depth and introspective interview in years, Swift tells all about the rocky road to 'Lover' and much, much more.

Taylor Swift bursts into her mom’s Nashville kitchen, smiling, looking remarkably like Taylor Swift. (That red-lip, classic thing? Check.) “I need someone to help dye my hair pink,” she says, and moments later, her ends match her sparkly nail polish, sneakers, and the stripes on her button-down. It’s all in keeping with the pastel aesthetic of her new album, Lover; black-leather combat-Taylor from her previous album cycle has handed back the phone. Around the black-granite kitchen island, all is calm and normal, as Swift’s mom, dad, and younger brother pass through. Her mom’s two dogs, one very small, one very large, pounce upon visitors with slurping glee. It could be any 29-year-old’s weekend visit with her parents, if not for the madness looming a few feet down the hall.

In an airy terrace, 113 giddy, weepy, shaky, still-in-disbelief fans are waiting for the start of one of Swift’s secret sessions, sacred rituals in Swift-dom. She’s about to play them her seventh album, as-yet unreleased on this Sunday afternoon in early August, and offer copious commentary. Also, she made cookies. Just before the session, Swift sits down in her mom’s study (where she “operates the Google,” per her daughter) to chat for a few minutes. The black-walled room is decorated with black-and-white classic-rock photos, including shots of Bruce Springsteen and, unsurprisingly, James Taylor; there are also more recent shots of Swift posing with Kris Kristofferson and playing with Def Leppard, her mom’s favorite band.

In a corner is an acoustic guitar Swift played as a teenager. She almost certainly wrote some well-known songs on it, but can’t recall which ones. “It would be kind of weird to finish a song and be like, ‘And this moment, I shall remember,’'” she says, laughing. “‘This guitar hath been anointed with my sacred tuneage!'”

The secret session itself is, as the name suggests, deeply off-the-record; it can be confirmed that she drank some white wine, since her glass pops up in some Instagram pictures. She stays until 5 a.m., chatting and taking photos with every one of the fans. Five hours later, we continue our talk at length in Swift’s Nashville condo, in almost exactly the same spot where we did one of our interviews for her 2012 Rolling Stone cover story. She’s hardly changed its whimsical decor in the past seven years (one of the few additions is a pool table replacing the couch where we sat last time), so it’s an old-Taylor time capsule. There’s still a huge bunny made of moss in one corner, and a human-size birdcage in the living room, though the view from the latter is now of generic new condo buildings instead of just distant green hills. Swift is barefoot now, in pale-blue jeans and a blue button-down tied at the waist; her hair is pulled back, her makeup minimal.

How to sum up the past three years of Taylor Swift? In July 2016, after Swift expressed discontent with Kanye West’s “Famous,” Kim Kardashian did her best to destroy her, unleashing clandestine recordings of a phone conversation between Swift and West. In the piecemeal audio, Swift can be heard agreeing to the line “…me and Taylor might still have sex.” We don’t hear her learning about the next lyric, the one she says bothered her — “I made that bitch famous” — and as she’ll explain, there’s more to her side of the story. The backlash was, well, swift, and overwhelming. It still hasn’t altogether subsided. Later that year, Swift chose not to make an endorsement in the 2016 election, which definitely didn’t help. In the face of it all, she made Reputation — fierce, witty, almost-industrial pop offset by love songs of crystalline beauty — and had a wildly successful stadium tour. Somewhere in there, she met her current boyfriend, Joe Alwyn, and judging by certain songs on Lover, the relationship is serious indeed.

Lover is Swift’s most adult album, a rebalancing of sound and persona that opens doors to the next decade of her career; it’s also a welcome return to the sonic diversity of 2012’s Red, with tracks ranging from the St. Vincent-assisted über-bop “Cruel Summer” to the unbearably poignant country-fied “Soon You’ll Get Better” (with the Dixie Chicks) and the “Shake It Off”-worthy pep of “Paper Rings.”

She wants to talk about the music, of course, but she is also ready to explain the past three years of her life, in depth, for the first time. The conversation is often not a light one. She’s built up more armor in the past few years, but still has the opposite of a poker face — you can see every micro-emotion wash over her as she ponders a question, her nose wrinkling in semi-ironic offense at the term “old-school pop stars,” her preposterously blue eyes glistening as she turns to darker subjects. In her worst moments, she says, “You feel like you’re being completely pulled into a riptide. So what are you going to do? Splash a lot? Or hold your breath and hope you somehow resurface? And that’s what I did. And it took three years. Sitting here doing an interview — the fact that we’ve done an interview before is the only reason I’m not in a full body sweat.”

When we talked seven years ago, everything was going so well for you, and you were very worried that something would go wrong. Yeah, I kind of knew it would. I felt like I was walking along the sidewalk, knowing eventually the pavement was going to crumble and I was gonna fall through. You can’t keep winning and have people like it. People love “new” so much — they raise you up the flagpole, and you’re waving at the top of the flagpole for a while. And then they’re like, “Wait, this new flag is what we actually love.” They decide something you’re doing is incorrect, that you’re not standing for what you should stand for. You’re a bad example. Then if you keep making music and you survive, and you keep connecting with people, eventually they raise you a little bit up the flagpole again, and then they take you back down, and back up again. And it happens to women more than it happens to men in music.

It also happened to you a few times on a smaller scale, didn’t it? I’ve had several upheavals in my career. When I was 18, they were like, “She doesn’t really write those songs.” So my third album I wrote by myself as a reaction to that. Then they decided I was a serial dater — a boy-crazy man-eater — when I was 22. And so I didn’t date anyone for, like, two years. And then they decided in 2016 that absolutely everything about me was wrong. If I did something good, it was for the wrong reasons. If I did something brave, I didn’t do it correctly. If I stood up for myself, I was throwing a tantrum. And so I found myself in this endless mockery echo chamber. It’s just like — I have a brother who’s two and a half years younger, and we spent the first half of our lives trying to kill each other and the second half as best friends. You know that game kids play? I’d be like, “Mom, can I have some water?” And Austin would be like, “Mom, can I have some water?” And I’m like, “He’s copying me.” And he’d be like, “He’s copying me.” Always in a really obnoxious voice that sounds all twisted. That’s what it felt like in 2016. So I decided to just say nothing. It wasn’t really a decision. It was completely involuntary.

But you also had good things happen in your life at the same time — that’s part of Reputation. The moments of my true story on that album are songs like “Delicate,” “New Year’s Day,” “Call It What You Want,” “Dress.” The one-two punch, bait-and-switch of Reputation is that it was actually a love story. It was a love story in amongst chaos. All the weaponized sort of metallic battle anthems were what was going on outside. That was the battle raging on that I could see from the windows, and then there was what was happening inside my world — my newly quiet, cozy world that was happening on my own terms for the first time. . . . It’s weird, because in some of the worst times of my career, and reputation, dare I say, I had some of the most beautiful times — in my quiet life that I chose to have. And I had some of the most incredible memories with the friends I now knew cared about me, even if everyone hated me. The bad stuff was really significant and damaging. But the good stuff will endure. The good lessons — you realize that you can’t just show your life to people.

Meaning? I used to be like a golden retriever, just walking up to everybody, like, wagging my tail. “Sure, yeah, of course! What do you want to know? What do you need?” Now, I guess, I have to be a little bit more like a fox.

Do your regrets on that extend to the way the “girl squad” thing was perceived? Yeah, I never would have imagined that people would have thought, “This is a clique that wouldn’t have accepted me if I wanted to be in it.” Holy shit, that hit me like a ton of bricks. I was like, “Oh, this did not go the way that I thought it was going to go.” I thought it was going to be we can still stick together, just like men are allowed to do. The patriarchy allows men to have bro packs. If you’re a male artist, there’s an understanding that you have respect for your counterparts.

Whereas women are expected to be feuding with each other? It’s assumed that we hate each other. Even if we’re smiling and photographed together with our arms around each other, it’s assumed there’s a knife in our pocket.

How much of a danger was there of falling into that thought pattern yourself? The messaging is dangerous, yes. Nobody is immune, because we’re a product of what society and peer groups and now the internet tells us, unless we learn differently from experience.

You once sang about a star who “took the money and your dignity, and got the hell out.” In 2016, you wrote in your journal, “This summer is the apocalypse.” How close did you come to quitting altogether? I definitely thought about that a lot. I thought about how words are my only way of making sense of the world and expressing myself — and now any words I say or write are being twisted against me. People love a hate frenzy. It’s like piranhas. People had so much fun hating me, and they didn’t really need very many reasons to do it. I felt like the situation was pretty hopeless. I wrote a lot of really aggressively bitter poems constantly. I wrote a lot of think pieces that I knew I’d never publish, about what it’s like to feel like you’re in a shame spiral. And I couldn’t figure out how to learn from it. Because I wasn’t sure exactly what I did that was so wrong. That was really hard for me, because I cannot stand it when people can’t take criticism. So I try to self-examine, and even though that’s really hard and hurts a lot sometimes, I really try to understand where people are coming from when they don’t like me. And I completely get why people wouldn’t like me. Because, you know, I’ve had my insecurities say those things — and things 1,000 times worse.

But some of your former critics have become your friends, right? Some of my best friendships came from people publicly criticizing me and then it opening up a conversation. Hayley Kiyoko was doing an interview and she made an example about how I get away with singing about straight relationships and people don’t give me shit the way they give her shit for singing about girls — and it’s totally valid. Like, Ella — Lorde — the first thing she ever said about me publicly was a criticism of my image or whatever. But I can’t really respond to someone saying, “You, as a human being, are fake.” And if they say you’re playing the victim, that completely undermines your ability to ever verbalize how you feel unless it’s positive. So, OK, should I just smile all the time and never say anything hurts me? Because that’s really fake. Or should I be real about how I’m feeling and have valid, legitimate responses to things that happened to me in my life? But wait, would that be playing the victim?

How do you escape that mental trap? Since I was 15 years old, if people criticized me for something, I changed it. So you realize you might be this amalgamation of criticisms that were hurled at you, and not an actual person who’s made any of these choices themselves. And so I decided I needed to live a quiet life, because a quiet personal life invites no discussion, dissection, and debate. I didn’t realize I was inviting people to feel they had the right to sort of play my life like a video game.

“The old Taylor can’t come to the phone right now. Why? Because she’s dead!” was funny — but how seriously should we take it? There’s a part of me that definitely is always going to be different. I needed to grow up in many ways. I needed to make boundaries, to figure out what was mine and what was the public’s. That old version of me that shares unfailingly and unblinkingly with a world that is probably not fit to be shared with? I think that’s gone. But it was definitely just, like, a fun moment in the studio with me and Jack [Antonoff] where I wanted to play on the idea of a phone call — because that’s how all of this started, a stupid phone call I shouldn’t have picked up.

It would have been much easier if that’s what you’d just said. It would have been so, so great if I would have just said that [laughs].

Some of the Lover iconography does suggest old Taylor’s return, though. I don’t think I’ve ever leaned into the old version of myself more creatively than I have on this album, where it’s very, very autobiographical. But also moments of extreme catchiness and moments of extreme personal confession.

Did you do anything wrong from your perspective in dealing with that phone call? Is there anything you regret? The world didn’t understand the context and the events that led up to it. Because nothing ever just happens like that without some lead-up. Some events took place to cause me to be pissed off when he called me a bitch. That was not just a singular event. Basically, I got really sick of the dynamic between he and I. And that wasn’t just based on what happened on that phone call and with that song — it was kind of a chain reaction of things.

I started to feel like we reconnected, which felt great for me — because all I ever wanted my whole career after that thing happened in 2009 was for him to respect me. When someone doesn’t respect you so loudly and says you literally don’t deserve to be here — I just so badly wanted that respect from him, and I hate that about myself, that I was like, “This guy who’s antagonizing me, I just want his approval.” But that’s where I was. And so we’d go to dinner and stuff. And I was so happy, because he would say really nice things about my music. It just felt like I was healing some childhood rejection or something from when I was 19. But the 2015 VMAs come around. He’s getting the Vanguard Award. He called me up beforehand — I didn’t illegally record it, so I can’t play it for you. But he called me up, maybe a week or so before the event, and we had maybe over an hourlong conversation, and he’s like, “I really, really would like for you to present this Vanguard Award to me, this would mean so much to me,” and went into all the reasons why it means so much, because he can be so sweet. He can be the sweetest. And I was so stoked that he asked me that. And so I wrote this speech up, and then we get to the VMAs and I make this speech and he screams, “MTV got Taylor Swift up here to present me this award for ratings!” [His exact words: “You know how many times they announced Taylor was going to give me the award ’cause it got them more ratings?”] And I’m standing in the audience with my arm around his wife, and this chill ran through my body. I realized he is so two-faced. That he wants to be nice to me behind the scenes, but then he wants to look cool, get up in front of everyone and talk shit. And I was so upset. He wanted me to come talk to him after the event in his dressing room. I wouldn’t go. So then he sent this big, big thing of flowers the next day to apologize. And I was like, “You know what? I really don’t want us to be on bad terms again. So whatever, I’m just going to move past this.” So when he gets on the phone with me, and I was so touched that he would be respectful and, like, tell me about this one line in the song.

The line being “. . . me and Taylor might still have sex”? [Nods] And I was like, “OK, good. We’re back on good terms.” And then when I heard the song, I was like, “I’m done with this. If you want to be on bad terms, let’s be on bad terms, but just be real about it.” And then he literally did the same thing to Drake. He gravely affected the trajectory of Drake’s family and their lives. It’s the same thing. Getting close to you, earning your trust, detonating you. I really don’t want to talk about it anymore because I get worked up, and I don’t want to just talk about negative shit all day, but it’s the same thing. Go watch Drake talk about what happened. [West denied any involvement in Pusha-T’s revelation of Drake’s child and apologized for sending “negative energy” toward Drake.]

When did you get to the place that’s described on the opening track of Lover, “I Forgot That You Existed”? It was sometime on the Reputation tour, which was the most transformative emotional experience of my career. That tour put me in the healthiest, most balanced place I’ve ever been. After that tour, bad stuff can happen to me, but it doesn’t level me anymore. The stuff that happened a couple of months ago with Scott [Borchetta] would have leveled me three years ago and silenced me. I would have been too afraid to speak up. Something about that tour made me disengage from some part of public perception I used to hang my entire identity on, which I now know is incredibly unhealthy.

What was the actual revelation? It’s almost like I feel more clear about the fact that my job is to be an entertainer. It’s not like this massive thing that sometimes my brain makes it into, and sometimes the media makes it into, where we’re all on this battlefield and everyone’s gonna die except one person, who wins. It’s like, “No, do you know what? Katy is going to be legendary. Gaga is going to be legendary. Beyoncé is going to be legendary. Rihanna is going to be legendary. Because the work that they made completely overshadows the myopia of this 24-hour news cycle of clickbait.” And somehow I realized that on tour, as I was looking at people’s faces. We’re just entertaining people, and it’s supposed to be fun.

It’s interesting to look at these albums as a trilogy. 1989 was really a reset button. Oh, in every way. I’ve been very vocal about the fact that that decision was mine and mine alone, and it was definitely met with a lot of resistance. Internally.

After realizing that things were not all smiles with your former label boss, Scott Borchetta, it’s hard not to wonder how much additional conflict there was over things like that. A lot of the best things I ever did creatively were things that I had to really fight — and I mean aggressively fight — to have happen. But, you know, I’m not like him, making crazy, petty accusations about the past. . . . When you have a business relationship with someone for 15 years, there are going to be a lot of ups and a lot of downs. But I truly, legitimately thought he looked at me as the daughter he never had. And so even though we had a lot of really bad times and creative differences, I was going to hang my hat on the good stuff. I wanted to be friends with him. I thought I knew what betrayal felt like, but this stuff that happened with him was a redefinition of betrayal for me, just because it felt like it was family. To go from feeling like you’re being looked at as a daughter to this grotesque feeling of “Oh, I was actually his prized calf that he was fattening up to sell to the slaughterhouse that would pay the most.”

He accused you of declining the Parkland march and Manchester benefit show. Unbelievable. Here’s the thing: Everyone in my team knew if Scooter Braun brings us something, do not bring it to me. The fact that those two are in business together after the things he said about Scooter Braun — it’s really hard to shock me. And this was utterly shocking. These are two very rich, very powerful men, using $300 million of other people’s money to purchase, like, the most feminine body of work. And then they’re standing in a wood-panel bar doing a tacky photo shoot, raising a glass of scotch to themselves. Because they pulled one over on me and got this done so sneakily that I didn’t even see it coming. And I couldn’t say anything about it.

In some ways, on a musical level, Lover feels like the most indie-ish of your albums. That’s amazing, thank you. It’s definitely a quirky record. With this album, I felt like I sort of gave myself permission to revisit older themes that I used to write about, maybe look at them with fresh eyes. And to revisit older instruments — older in terms of when I used to use them. Because when I was making 1989, I was so obsessed with it being this concept of Eighties big pop, whether it was Eighties in its production or Eighties in its nature, just having these big choruses — being unapologetically big. And then Reputation, there was a reason why I had it all in lowercase. I felt like it wasn’t unapologetically commercial. It’s weird, because that is the album that took the most amount of explanation, and yet it’s the one I didn’t talk about. In the Reputation secret sessions I kind of had to explain to my fans, “I know we’re doing a new thing here that I’d never done before.” I’d never played with characters before. For a lot of pop stars, that’s a really fun trick, where they’re like, “This is my alter ego.” I had never played with that before. It’s really fun. And it was just so fun to play with on tour — the darkness and the bombast and the bitterness and the love and the ups and the downs of an emotional-turmoil record.

“Daylight” is a beautiful song. It feels like it could have been the title track. It almost was. I thought it might be a little bit too sentimental.

And I guess maybe too on-the-nose. Right, yeah, way too on-the-nose. That’s what I thought, because I was kind of in my head referring to the album as Daylight for a while. But Lover, to me, was a more interesting title, more of an accurate theme in my head, and more elastic as a concept. That’s why “You Need to Calm Down” can make sense within the theme of the album — one of the things it addresses is how certain people are not allowed to live their lives without discrimination just based on who they love.

For the more organic songs on this album, like “Lover” and “Paper Rings,” you said you were imagining a wedding band playing them. How often does that kind of visualization shape a song’s production style? Sometimes I’ll have a strange sort of fantasy of where the songs would be played. And so for songs like “Paper Rings” or “Lover” I was imagining a wedding-reception band, but in the Seventies, so they couldn’t play instruments that wouldn’t have been invented yet. I have all these visuals. For Reputation, it was nighttime cityscape. I didn’t really want any — or very minimal — traditional acoustic instruments. I imagined old warehouse buildings that had been deserted and factory spaces and all this industrial kind of imagery. So I wanted the production to have nothing wooden. There’s no wood floors on that album. Lover is, like, completely just a barn wood floor and some ripped curtains flowing in the breeze, and fields of flowers and, you know, velvet.

How did you come to use high school metaphors to touch on politics with “Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince”? There are so many influences that go into that particular song. I wrote it a couple of months after midterm elections, and I wanted to take the idea of politics and pick a metaphorical place for that to exist. And so I was thinking about a traditional American high school, where there’s all these kinds of social events that could make someone feel completely alienated. And I think a lot of people in our political landscape are just feeling like we need to huddle up under the bleachers and figure out a plan to make things better.

I feel like your Fall Out Boy fandom might’ve slipped out in that title. I love Fall Out Boy so much. Their songwriting really influenced me, lyrically, maybe more than anyone else. They take a phrase and they twist it. “Loaded God complex/Cock it and pull it”? When I heard that, I was like, “I’m dreaming.”

You sing about “American stories burning before me.” Do you mean the illusions of what America is? It’s about the illusions of what I thought America was before our political landscape took this turn, and that naivete that we used to have about it. And it’s also the idea of people who live in America, who just want to live their lives, make a living, have a family, love who they love, and watching those people lose their rights, or watching those people feel not at home in their home. I have that line “I see the high-fives between the bad guys” because not only are some really racist, horrific undertones now becoming overtones in our political climate, but the people who are representing those concepts and that way of looking at the world are celebrating loudly, and it’s horrific.

You’re in this weird place of being a blond, blue-eyed pop star in this era — to the point where until you endorsed some Democratic candidates, right-wingers, and worse, assumed you were on their side. I don’t think they do anymore. Yeah, that was jarring, and I didn’t hear about that until after it had happened. Because at this point, I, for a very long time, I didn’t have the internet on my phone, and my team and my family were really worried about me because I was not in a good place. And there was a lot of stuff that they just dealt with without telling me about it. Which is the only time that’s ever happened in my career. I’m always in the pilot seat, trying to fly the plane that is my career in exactly the direction I want to take it. But there was a time when I just had to throw my hands up and say, “Guys, I can’t. I can’t do this. I need you to just take over for me and I’m just going to disappear.”

Are you referring to when a white-supremacist site suggested you were on their team? I didn’t even see that, but, like, if that happened, that’s just disgusting. There’s literally nothing worse than white supremacy. It’s repulsive. There should be no place for it. Really, I keep trying to learn as much as I can about politics, and it’s become something I’m now obsessed with, whereas before, I was living in this sort of political ambivalence, because the person I voted for had always won. We were in such an amazing time when Obama was president because foreign nations respected us. We were so excited to have this dignified person in the White House. My first election was voting for him when he made it into office, and then voting to re-elect him. I think a lot of people are like me, where they just didn’t really know that this could happen. But I’m just focused on the 2020 election. I’m really focused on it. I’m really focused on how I can help and not hinder. Because I also don’t want it to backfire again, because I do feel that the celebrity involvement with Hillary’s campaign was used against her in a lot of ways.

You took a lot of heat for not getting involved. Does any part of you regret that you just didn’t say “fuck it” and gotten more specific when you said to vote that November? Totally. Yeah, I regret a lot of things all the time. It’s like a daily ritual.

Were you just convinced that it would backfire? That’s literally what it was. Yeah. It’s a very powerful thing when you legitimately feel like numbers have proven that pretty much everyone hates you. Like, quantifiably. That’s not me being dramatic. And you know that.

There were a lot of people in those stadiums. It’s true. But that was two years later. . . . I do think, as a party, we need to be more of a team. With Republicans, if you’re wearing that red hat, you’re one of them. And if we’re going to do anything to change what’s happening, we need to stick together. We need to stop dissecting why someone’s on our side or if they’re on our side in the right way or if they phrased it correctly. We need to not have the right kind of Democrat and the wrong kind of Democrat. We need to just be like, “You’re a Democrat? Sick. Get in the car. We’re going to the mall.”

Here’s a hard question for you: As a superfan, what did you think of the Game of Thrones finale? Oh, my God. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this. So, clinically our brain responds to our favorite show ending the same way we feel when a breakup occurs. I read that. There’s no good way for it to end. No matter what would have happened in that finale, people still would have been really upset because of the fact that it’s over.

I was glad to see you confirm that your line about a “list of names” was a reference to Arya. I like to be influenced by movies and shows and books and stuff. I love to write about a character dynamic. And not all of my life is going to be as kind of complex as these intricate webs of characters on TV shows and movies.

There was a time when it was. That’s amazing.

But is the idea that as your own life becomes less dramatic, you’ll need to pull ideas from other places? I don’t feel like that yet. I think I might feel like that possibly when I have a family. If I have a family. [Pauses] I don’t know why I said that! But that’s what I’ve heard from other artists, that they were very protective of their personal life, so they had to draw inspiration from other things. But again, I don’t know why I said that. Because I don’t know how my life is going to go or what I’m going to do. But right now, I feel like it’s easier for me to write than it ever was.

You don’t talk about your relationship, but you’ll sing about it in wildly revealing detail. What’s the difference for you? Singing about something helps you to express it in a way that feels more accurate. You cannot, no matter what, put words in a quote and have it move someone the same way as if you heard those words with the perfect sonic representation of that feeling... There is that weird conflict in being a confessional songwriter and then also having my life, you know, 10 years ago, be catapulted into this strange pop-culture thing.

I’ve heard you say that people got too interested in which song was about who, which I can understand — at the same time, to be fair, it was a game you played into, wasn’t it? I realized very early on that no matter what, that was going to happen to me regardless. So when you realize the rules of the game you’re playing and how it will affect you, you got to look at the board and make your strategy. But at the same time, writing songs has never been a strategic element of my career. But I’m not scared anymore to say that other things in my career, like how to market an album, are strictly strategic. And I’m sick of women not being able to say that they have strategic business minds — because male artists are allowed to. And so I’m sick and tired of having to pretend like I don’t mastermind my own business. But, it’s a different part of my brain than I use to write.

You’ve been masterminding your business since you were a teenager. Yeah, but I’ve also tried very hard — and this is one thing I regret — to convince people that I wasn’t the one holding the puppet strings of my marketing existence, or the fact that I sit in a conference room several times a week and come up with these ideas. I felt for a very long time that people don’t want to think of a woman in music who isn’t just a happy, talented accident. We’re all forced to kind of be like, “Aw, shucks, this happened again! We’re still doing well! Aw, that’s so great.” Alex Morgan celebrating scoring a goal at the World Cup and getting shit for it is a perfect example of why we’re not allowed to flaunt or celebrate, or reveal that, like, “Oh, yeah, it was me. I came up with this stuff.” I think it’s really unfair. People love new female artists so much because they’re able to explain that woman’s success. There’s an easy trajectory. Look at the Game of Thrones finale. I specifically really related to Daenerys’ storyline because for me it portrayed that it is a lot easier for a woman to attain power than to maintain it.

I mean, she did murder... It’s a total metaphor! Like, obviously I didn’t want Daenerys to become that kind of character, but in taking away what I chose to take away from it, I thought maybe they’re trying to portray her climbing the ladder to the top was a lot easier than maintaining it, because for me, the times when I felt like I was going insane was when I was trying to maintain my career in the same way that I ascended. It’s easier to get power than to keep it. It’s easier to get acclaim than to keep it. It’s easier to get attention than to keep it.

Well, I guess we should be glad you didn’t have a dragon in 2016... [Fiercely] I told you I don’t like that she did that! But, I mean, watching the show, though, maybe this is a reflection on how we treat women in power, how we are totally going to conspire against them and tear at them until they feel this — this insane shift, where you wonder, like, “What changed?” And I’ve had that happen, like, 60 times in my career where I’m like, “OK, you liked me last year, what changed? I guess I’ll change so I can keep entertaining you guys.”

You once said that your mom could never punish you when you were little because you’d punish yourself. This idea of changing in the face of criticism and needing approval — that’s all part of wanting to be good, right? Whatever that means. But that seems to be a real driving force in your life. Yeah, that’s definitely very perceptive of you. And the question posed to me is, if you kept trying to do good things, but everyone saw those things in a cynical way and assumed them to be done with bad motivation and bad intent, would you still do good things, even though nothing that you did was looked at as good? And the answer is, yes. Criticism that’s constructive is helpful to my character growth. Baseless criticism is stuff I’ve got to toss out now.

That sounds healthy. Is this therapy talking or is this just experience? No, I’ve never been to therapy. I talk to my mom a lot, because my mom is the one who’s seen everything. God, it takes so long to download somebody on the last 29 years of my life, and my mom has seen it all. She knows exactly where I’m coming from. And we talk endlessly. There were times when I used to have really, really, really bad days where we would just be on the phone for hours and hours and hours. I’d write something that I wanted to say, and instead of posting it, I’d just read it to her.

I somehow connect all this to the lyric in “Daylight,” the idea of “so many lines that I’ve crossed unforgiven” — it’s a different kind of confession. I am really glad you liked that line, because that’s something that does bother me, looking back at life and realizing that no matter what, you screw things up. Sometimes there are people that were in your life and they’re not anymore — and there’s nothing you can do about it. You can’t fix it, you can’t change it. I told the fans last night that sometimes on my bad days, I feel like my life is a pile of crap accumulated of only the bad headlines or the bad things that have happened, or the mistakes I’ve made or clichés or rumors or things that people think about me or have thought for the last 15 years. And that was part of the “Look What You Made Me Do” music video, where I had a pile of literal old selves fighting each other.

But, yeah, that line is indicative of my anxiety about how in life you can’t get everything right. A lot of times you make the wrong call, make the wrong decision. Say the wrong thing. Hurt people, even if you didn’t mean to. You don’t really know how to fix all of that. When it’s, like, 29 years’ worth.

To be Mr. “Rolling Stone” for a second, there’s a Springsteen lyric, “Ain’t no one leaving this world, buddy/Without their shirttail dirty or hands a little bloody.” That’s really good! No one gets through it unscathed. No one gets through in one piece. I think that’s a hard thing for a lot of people to grasp. I know it was hard for me, because I kind of grew up thinking, “If I’m nice, and if I try to do the right thing, you know, maybe I can just, like, ace this whole thing.” And it turns out I can’t.

It’s interesting to look at “I Did Something Bad” in this context. You pointing that out is really interesting because it’s something I’ve had to reconcile within myself in the last couple of years — that sort of “good” complex. Because from the time I was a kid I’d try to be kind, be a good person. Try really hard. But you get walked all over sometimes. And how do you respond to being walked all over? You can’t just sit there and eat your salad and let it happen. “I Did Something Bad” was about doing something that was so against what I would usually do. Katy [Perry] and I were talking about our signs. . . . [Laughs] Of course we were.

That’s the greatest sentence ever. [Laughs] I hate you. We were talking about our signs because we had this really, really long talk when we were reconnecting and stuff. And I remember in the long talk, she was like, “If we had one glass of white wine right now, we’d both be crying.” Because we were drinking tea. We’ve had some really good conversations.

We were talking about how we’ve had miscommunications with people in the past, not even specifically with each other. She’s like, “I’m a Scorpio. Scorpios just strike when they feel threatened.” And I was like, “Well, I’m an archer. We literally stand back, assess the situation, process how we feel about it, raise a bow, pull it back, and fire.” So it’s completely different ways of processing pain, confusion, misconception. And oftentimes I’ve had this delay in feeling something that hurts me and then saying that it hurts me. Do you know what I mean? And so I can understand how people in my life would have been like, “Whoa, I didn’t know that was how you felt.” Because it takes me a second.

If you watch the video of the 2009 VMAs, I literally freeze. I literally stand there. And that is how I handle any discomfort, any pain. I stand there, I freeze. And then five minutes later, I know how I feel. But in the moment, I’m probably overreacting and I should be nice. Then I process it, and in five minutes, if it’s gone, it’s past, and I’m like, “I was overreacting, everything’s fine. I can get through this. I’m glad I didn’t say anything harsh in the moment.” But when it’s actually something bad that happened, and I feel really, really hurt or upset about it, I only know after the fact. Because I’ve tried so hard to squash it: “This probably isn’t what you think.” That’s something I had to work on.

You could end up gaslighting yourself. Yeah, for sure. ’Cause so many situations where if I would have said the first thing that came to my mind, people would have been like, “Whoa!” And maybe I would have been wrong or combative. So a couple of years ago I started working on actually just responding to my emotions in a quicker fashion. And it’s really helped with stuff. It’s helped so much because sometimes you get in arguments. But conflict in the moment is so much better than combat after the fact.

Well, thanks. I do feel like I just did a therapy session. As someone who’s never been to therapy, I can safely say that was the best therapy session.

#uhhhh #just by copying and editing text I see it's gonna be good =)#can't wait...#taylor swift #interview #by taylor #lover era #Rolling Stone magazine #Brian Hiatt

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wordstro · 4 years

Note

mingi + mafia au + you shouldn't have done that

mingi x gender neutral reader, 1.5k, thank you!!!!!!!!!!!

Part 2

you were meant to do great things. at least that’s what your parents, your teachers, even your best friend used to tell you over and over and over, beaming at you and whatever your newest accolade of the moment was. you had ranked number one in your class all throughout high school. you had your pick between the top three universities in the country. at graduation, you were on top of the world.

and then, things went downhill and never really stopped.

you’re still not quite sure when you’ll hit rock bottom, when you’ll finally get to turn your life around. or maybe, you missed that chance long ago. your father grew incredibly ill and your mother fell into debt. you worked too many part time jobs to help pay it off and your grades slipped. eventually, your father passed away and your mother was too busy dealing with grief and debt to really be a mother. you failed one too many classes and got kicked out of university. you still felt like you needed to help your mother pay off the crippling amount of debt and you indulged yourself in people you would have never given the light of day. and, to top it all off, your best friend slowly stopped answering your calls and your texts, drifting out of your life as if he hadn’t been there since you were both children, as if all those years and late nights and time spent together meant nothing.

it’s been years since then, but the mere thought of him still brings tears to your eyes, still makes your stomach curl with guilt, still makes you wonder what the hell you did wrong. during your brief phone calls with your mother, she would ask about him, and you never had the heart to just tell her. but, maybe she noticed your short answers because, nowadays, she’s stopped. nowadays, she’s even stopped asking for details about your job.

you’re grateful for that, really, because how the hell are you supposed to tell your sweet, tired mother that you work as a freelance hacker for an underground network of crime syndicates? it’s a bit of a mouthful, really, and you don’t think your poor mother’s heart can take such news.

sometimes, you wonder if this is your rock bottom. especially when you catch sight of yourself in the blackness of your screen before you boot up your laptop. the debt hasn’t stopped and you don’t think it ever really will because interest is a fucking bitch, but it’s become manageable. sometimes, you think about how you could go back to school. you could get decent work in an office somewhere.

but, you kind of like the thrill of this. you could go back, but you won’t. you know you won’t. you enjoy the rush of adrenaline when you receive a notification from one of your clients instructing you to extract information for them. you never ask too many questions about the whos. you only really care about the compensation. and this particular task has a price tag of several million won.

you raise your brow, stretching your fingers and cracking your back, already thinking about all the things you plan on buying with the extra money, grinning because the task in question is easy. almost too easy. you just need to root out a location from within a shit ton of security walls, as if whoever built it absolutely does not want anyone to find them. you grin and get to work.

~.~.~.~.~

you’ve seen your fair share of security systems over the course of your career and you’d rank this one as one of the tougher ones. still, you get in. you always get in.

and, for a moment, the IP address appears on your screen. the tension falls from your shoulders as you sit back admiring your work. for a moment, all is well.

until it isn’t.

your screen turns red, filling with white static, and it’s fucking terrifying. especially when it starts keening, high pitched, shrill, ringing in your ears, until it goes black.

you freeze, slowly peeking out from behind your chair, eyeing the computer in concern. you wonder if it’ll explode. white symbols fill the screen, cursor blinking. it takes a moment to register the message and when you do, your heart drops into the pit of your stomach, your breath catching in your throat. it’s your full name and your current location, written out in full, almost as if it’s mocking you. a chill runs straight down your spine and, for a moment, you’re frozen in your spot, crouched behind your computer chair. you were always cautious. you switched between VPNs constantly, you kept your work computer clear of anything and everything relating to your identity. this shouldn’t be happening. holy shit, you need to go. you shoot up, rummaging through your closet for the getaway bag you made long ago, just in case. you knew you needed a contingency plan when you started this. you just never expected to actually need it. but, now, you need to get out. you need a burner phone and cash and -

knock, knock.

the things in your hand slip, clattering all over the floor, and you flinch at the loud noise, glancing between the laptop and the door. you contemplate jumping out the window, but you’re on the third floor and you doubt that -

beep. beep. beep. click.

the front door sits ajar and the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end. for a beat, you are so terrified you aren’t sure if you can even move. then your brain jumps into overdrive. you need something to defend yourself with, though. you’re frantic when you yank the lamp off the table beside the couch, scurrying into the kitchen.

it’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop and you hate it. you swear your own heartbeat can be heard in the quiet of your apartment. there is no force used, you notice, as if your brain is clinging to the tiniest details as a way to keep calm and collected. nothing about the knocking at your door nor the technical break-in is forceful or loud, and it’s somehow worse than if someone had just kicked your door down and stuck a gun in your face. you lift the lamp over your head, just as you hear the creak of the front door opening and the faintest of whispers. you hear footsteps, slow and measured, so fucking casual, echoing throughout your apartment and your grip on the lamp tightens. it doesn’t take long for the footsteps to approach the kitchen. you don’t even try to catch a glimpse of the intruder; the moment they step into reach, you bring the lamp down over their head with a loud thud.

a man cries out in pain - the loudest noise you’ve heard yet this evening, the sound making you flinch - and you back out of the kitchen, nearly tripping on your own feet, not even bothering to watch the man crumple to his knees. you just hope he stays down.

but, you didn’t account for the other voice, the other footsteps.

you yelp when you run face first into a sturdy wall of a person, thrashing as their fingers wrap around you, holding you steadfast with such ease. you think, holy shit, holy shit, I don’t want to die, while you’re being dragged and tossed onto the floor of your living room. you hit your head too hard, vision swimming, pain shooting through your skull, but you manage to put space between you and where you think the intruders are. you stare, wary, terrified, thinking, thinking, thinking. you open your mouth, ready to scream, but there’s a pretty boy with dark eyes and sharp features staring down at you, head tilted, a gun cocked in his hands.

he says, “scream and i’ll shoot.”

you didn’t account for three intruders, the man with the gun, the one you hit over the head with the lamp, and whoever is helping him up. your eyes flicker past the kitchen entrance, frantically searching over the man’s shoulder for an opening. you notice the lack of face coverings - from what you’ve picked up throughout your years of working in the underground, you know that is not a promising sign, it usually means they don’t plan on letting you live long enough to expose their identities - and you scoot further back until your back hits the wall. the man’s eyes and gun follows you, a kind smile playing on his lips, out of place in a situation like this. it’s just as unsettling as the lack of force behind their break in, the silence with which they work under.

two people emerge from your kitchen, the man you presumably hit over the head grumbling under his breath while the other one holds him up, towering over him. the man with the gun speaks up, pulling your attention back to him, “now, tell us.” he steps forward and you have nowhere to go. “why exactly were you trying to hack into our systems? who put you up to this?”

“I…I don’t know.” your voice comes out steadier than you expected and you’re grateful for that. the man with the gun sighs. you glare, you can’t help it. “I really don’t know. I make it a point not to know who my clients are.”

the man sighs, yet again, and somehow that angers you. you watch as he steps back from you, gun still directed at you, turning his torso to face his friends. your gaze flickers up to them and you -

“holy shit.” your fingers dig into your palms, your eyes locked on him.

because it’s song mingi.

memories that you have spent years trying to forget floods into the forefront of your mind. birthdays spent with him, his soft smile, the first memories you’ve had with him, playing tag in your parents’ house. the way he sometimes insisted you be the big spoon when the two of you cuddled, laughing at the way you could barely contain his long limbs in your arms. the way he cried into your shoulder when his family dog had to be put down. the promises of forever he made with you. his laugh, the way his eyes would scrunch up and his smile would get so big. memories and feelings and everything just floods through you and you can feel tears prickling at your eyes, your chest heavy, words stuck in your throat.

he has red hair now, his arm curled around the man you hit over the head. still, he hasn’t changed much. he’s taller, broader, older, but he is the same in so many ways. his eyes, though, are different. the light and love they always held has dimmed and there’s something dark about his gaze, something ancient and sad and irredeemable, something broken. your breath catches at the sight, at the way his eyes widen ever-so-slightly, before they narrow, at the way you can’t read his face easily like you used to be able to.

“mingi?” you speak, then, your voice less steady than before, barely audible really, if it wasn’t for how quiet the apartment had become. both his friends startle at that, but your eyes are on him. there is a mix of anger and relief and yearning that curls in your chest. you’ve missed him, you realize. you’re angry because he left you so long ago, that he is standing here now, on the side of the man with the gun pointed at you, and you should be mad, should be screaming, but you missed him. maybe this is your rock bottom.

for a moment, mingi softens, eyes returning to the way he used to look at you before. for a moment, you can pretend he still cares about you.

but, only for a moment.

his gaze steels, his lips pressing into a thin line. he slips his hands off his friend, stepping towards you and there is an aura surrounding him that is unfamiliar and, frankly, terrifying.

he crouches, until he is at eye level with you. you hold your breath. he says, “you’ve built a very notorious reputation for yourself you know. makes sense, though, you’ve always been the greatest at whatever you put your mind to.”

there’s something so very foreboding about the way he says that. you blink, manage to respond, “why are you…what do you want from me? what are you…what are you going to do to me?”

mingi looks at you like you are a stranger and you think, no, this is your rock bottom. he leans in close, red hair falling over his unreadable eyes, elbows resting on his knees. the world falls away and all that is left is you and mingi, mingi and you.

he breathes, “hacking into our systems? you really shouldn’t have done that, sweetheart.” then he tilts his head and stares you down. you cannot breathe as he tacks on, “now we have to make an example out of you.”

#song mingi #ateez #ateez angst #ateez scenarios #mingi angst #requests #i hope u like it!! maybe i want to make a part 2 but idk TT #Anonymous

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thanksjro · 4 years

Text

More Than Meets the Eye #16- All the Greatest Love Songs are Secretly About Heroin

Dang, been a minute since we got into the series proper. What all happened again?

Oh. Right. That.

…So anyway, let’s brush up on our Ultra Magnus history!

There was a massive fight on top of a spaceship. Swoop was there, Impactor was there, Overlord was there, Heretech was there, Killmaster was there- shit was lit. Ultra Magnus was doing his thing, though it looks like this was before he got LASIK done, because he’s got a visor on.

Then Ultra Magnus got shot in the gut and fell off the spaceship. It was so scary his hand started spasming.

Later on, we return to a place we’ve seen before, albeit from the Decepticon side.

Magnus, your badge isn’t up to code, my guy! Better get that sorted, before your current self comes out of his medically induced coma, invents time travel, and comes to beat you up.

Also, Pious Maximus? What is your friggin’ DEAL, bro? What the actual hell is your deal?

All the K-Cons start falling out of the sky, and Magnus orders everyone to take cover, as a familiar-looking bomb that literally has his name written on it lands bang on target. It’s such an intense experience, his hands start spasming.

Later still, Magnus is in the middle of dealing with the Simanzi Massacre, and it looks like his visor’s seen better days. Hopefully it was a reading pair, and not something he actually needed to see. Rotorstorm is also there, because his character apparently only exists to suffer. Magnus and his team rise from the muck and the mire, coming ashore right on top of a Cybernought, which promptly fries Magnus with its hand lasers. He gets so crispy, his hands start spasming.

For anyone having trouble parsing the scraps of rended metal that used to be Rewind of Lower Petrohex here, allow me a moment to break him down. That cylinder in the lower left corner is his camera, the wire coming off of it is where it plugged into his head, and that squarish chunk with the clean, round hole in it is probably part of his helmet. The other chunky bits I couldn’t tell you what they are, but I think it’s pretty safe to say that Chromedome absolutely put the dog to sleep with that blast last issue.

Inside the Lost Light, Swerve’s trying to be a nice guy by putting on some tunes for Ultra Magnus, who got his spark shot by Overlord last issue, but all it’s really done is make Ratchet get distracted.

Magnus is in a bad way, as was established by First Aid last issue, and it doesn’t seem like Ratchet’s having any more luck than had been predicted. Swerve’s here for emotional support, and also because he’s got medical training. Tailgate’s here for cleanup duty. Drift’s off in the corner making snide remarks about the medical equipment, probably because he’s mad his legs are still off.

Drift looks like he’s been chiseled out of stone here, and I kind of love it. Forget softboi uwu Dwift, I want more of this guy who’ll bite into a teddybear cactus and not even flinch.

Agustin Padilla’s back on the scene for this issue, and he’s decided that everyone’s going to be elongated in as many ways as he can manage in 20 pages. Tailgate and Swerve? Tallest they’ll ever be in the series. They’re as tall as Cyclonus, and he’s a fucking space jet. Someone’s got a chevron? You better believe that thing’s scraping the gotdang ceiling. Drift’s kitty-cat ears almost never fit into the panel, because those suckers are LONG today. It’s like they’ve all been put through a taffy-puller. There are a lot of little quirks with this art, but this is one I can kind of get behind, if only because it’s so distinctive.

Getting back to the story, Drift’s talking about the Death Clock here- no, not the animated band from Adult Swim, but an actual medical device that can calculate the moment a shrinking spark will give out, down to the second. It only measures the lifespans of the terminally ill, so Swerve hasn’t accidentally given himself even more depression by sticking his little hands in the shiny light without a thought as to what the device he’s messing with might do.

Ultra Magnus has about ten days to live. This makes Tailgate incredibly upset, because he, unlike everyone else on the ship, hasn’t experienced the horrors of war and death.

Ratchet’s right, though. There’s certainly a chance that Tailgate, who’s been shown to react to stressful situations by having panic attacks to the point of blacking out, could have a very severe response to what is his first major catastrophe. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder usually isn’t an immediate development, but being proactive about your mental health is never a bad thing if you can swing it. Hell, with how bad the Overlord situation was, I wouldn’t be surprised if Rung was booked solid long enough for Tailgate to actually have time to develop PTSD.

Rodimus is on the intercom to address the situation that just took place, because man oh man, was it a doozy. He intends to hold an inquiry to figure out just what the hell happened and how Overlord got on the Lost Light to begin with. As he tells everyone what’s going to happen, our focus shifts to Chromedome, who’s standing on the outside of the ship, staring off into space.

Man, I hope Chromedome’s on the front half, because this is a fucking grim scene to witness.

Skids comes out, having been looking for Chromedome. Trailcutter of all people pointed him in the right direction- which I suppose makes sense, given that he was on the Ethics Committee on Kimia. He probably would know Chromedome and Rewind decently well by this point.

Chromedome turns around to show off his mourning black Autobot badge, freshly photoshopped onto his chest for our viewing pleasure. It’s especially blatant when contrasting with Padilla’s rougher linework style.

Skids asks our brand-new widower how he’s holding up, and Chromedome says he’s fine, which is funny, because the other day he was all:

Chromedome has a moment of reminiscing, playing connect-the-dots with the stars like he and Rewind used to do all the time.

Skids, they were married for 250,000 years.

Skids might actually have been one of the worse people to have found Chromedome, if this is what he’s going to say, and then immediately leave. He’s so awkward and clearly uncomfortable and doesn’t want to be there. Does he feel weird about Chromedome knowing more about him than he himself does? Does Skids not have access to any of his memories related to mourning? Geez, I hope nobody needs him to help them through a difficult emotional time for a good while, because this was painful to watch.

Back inside the ship, Rung’s come over to Rodimus’ room to see what all the crashing and banging is about. It would seem our dear captain’s upset, and has decided to work through his frustrations by destroying his private quarters, perhaps in an attempt to summon the wrath of Ultra Magnus, thus saving him through the power of his own mess-induced rage. Rung comes to sit with Rodimus, I guess giving up his search for Chromedome, and the two of them discuss Magnus. Specifically, they discuss Magnus’ memos, and how much Rodimus despises receiving them, because they make him feel like he’s not doing his job right. He stopped even opening them, they made him feel so bad.

If you subscribe to the headcanon of Rodimus having ADHD, you could potentially read this as being a manifestation of Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. As it is within the story proper, Rung’s decided to ignore this tidbit of information to get at the more pressing issues, like why exactly Rodimus felt the need to wreck his room.

This is about the point where the art for Rodimus becomes roughly 90% spot blacks, and it’s highly suggested that Rung get out while the getting’s good.

Oh, well this is going to be awkward.

Later on, we’re at the funeral. There’s five coffins, though not all of them actually contain a body. Everyone’s here to see their friends off, even Cyclonus, who was invited to the wake by Chromedome himself. Awful nice of him to do that, given their history.

The lineup in the front row is a bunch of chatterboxes, and they prove that very quickly as Swerve, Skids, and Whirl theorize on the contents of Brainstorm’s mysterious briefcase, which is also here at the funeral. Swerve swears himself to the duty of finding out what’s inside, on threat of death should he fail.

A short time skip is had, and Rodimus is revealed to be wearing his ceremonial funeral cape and terrifying vampire arm spikes to this shindig, as he sends Tripodeca, who is surely the most beloved of all Autobots, off with as many kind words as he can muster in the time they have. Everyone says goodbye, and we get to Rewind’s turn. Rodimus has a moment of pause, as Rung gives him the most withering look I believe he will ever produce in the entirety of the run of MTMTE/Lost Light.

Rodimus concedes to giving Rewind the credit for saving everyone from Overlord posthumously, as well as Fortress Maximus and Chromedome, labelling himself as a failure on that front. Chromedome comes up to the podium for a few words on the love of his life.

…well, it’s been a long day for everyone, I suppose.

Chromedome sits back down, right next to Brainstorm because they’re besties, as Brainstorm stares him down like he knows something Chromedome doesn’t.

Probably because he does.

After the funeral, Brainstorm pays Chromedome a visit, finding him in the middle of spring cleaning. He’s taking all of Rewind’s stuff and shoving it in a box to be destroyed.

Does it count as foreshadowing if it’s like a page before the reveal? I guess so.

Chromedome is trying to ease Brainstorm’s mind about the inquiry Rodimus is conducting, saying that the guy ought to talk to Drift before he gets TOO antsy about spilling the beans- perhaps a touch too late there, Domey- but Brainstorm isn’t here for any of that.

So you’re saying Chromedome/Dominus isn’t going to be endgame.

Turns out Chromedome’s been collecting dead spouses, and he wasn’t even aware of it. When faced with this inherent truth about his personal relationship with grief, Chromedome only has this to say:

Time for a pop quiz!

When the burden of life is too much to bear, what is an addict most likely to do? Is it:

A) Quit cold turkey

B) Seek help for their addiction

C) Relapse

If you answered C, you get a gold star, and a harsh reminder that addiction is a fucking monster that will devour your life and meaningful relationships, leaving you with nothing but itself for company.

Chromedome has had a problem with injecting since he got good enough at it to get his own set of finger needles, and he’s been completely dependent on other people to get himself to even close to stopping the habit. His character bio on the crew roster page has, up until this point, outright claimed this.

Now Rewind’s gone, and there’s really nothing stopping him from just taking that pain away. Brainstorm certainly can’t do it, though not for lack of trying.

Chromedome says that he won’t go through with his plan, but Brainstorm knows he’s lying, because they’ve done this song and dance before. At this point, asking Chromedome to not inject is just a courtesy to the deceased.

No wonder Chromedome invited Cyclonus to the funeral- probably figured why the hell not, since he wouldn’t remember it anyway.

Brainstorm gives Chromedome a data slug- the last one Rewind ever made, shot through the door just before it sliced Chromedome’s arm off, and found by Fort Max. Brainstorm leaves, probably to go prepare himself for that awful, hollow feeling he’ll be getting the next time he sees Chromedome.

Over in the shuttle bay, Rodimus is addressing the crew, Chromedome is retconned into being Toxin because he’s not supposed to be in this scene, and Drift is named as the sole conspirator in the Overlord debacle. Rodimus just starts tearing into Drift, and while he does, we cut over to the medibay, where some zombie nonsense is going on.

Golly, seems like there’s some flavor of undead on the Lost Light every other week, doesn’t it?

Rodimus strips Drift of his Autobot badge and tells him to get the fuck out.

Back at Chromedome’s room, he’s decided to take a gander at what Rewind left behind, plugging the data slug into the computer.

Man, this part always makes me a little weepy.

I can’t do Rewind’s final message justice, not in the choppy format I present here- which is perhaps a bit ironic, given the nature of how it’s presented. In the final moments he had, Rewind pieced together a plea for Chromedome to love himself, and to remember that he was- and still is- loved. He shared his own fears of them being apart, and how he knows how hard the coming days will be. He begged Chromedome to be kind to himself, because he- whether he believes it or not- has grown from the person he was in the New Institute.

As this message plays out, we see Drift swarmed by furious Autobots, who get violent as he makes his way off the Lost Light, only to be helped back to his feet by none other than Ratchet, before climbing into a shuttle, surely never to be seen again.

Shane McCarthy slipped Roberts a twenty to set up a slowburn between his OC and Ratchet all the way back in MTMTE #4. This is the start of the pining portion of their relationship.

God, just- there’s a reason Roberts has claimed this issue as one of his best, and it’s this fucking message. Please, if you somehow have gotten to this post without reading the comics- well, first, how, and second- go and READ THEM. I promise it’s worth it, they’re beautiful and funny and full of heart, even when everyone’s being a dick to each other.

Rewind leaves Chromedome with one final piece, which probably didn’t feel like enough, but was all he could manage in the time he had left.

I’m basically legally obligated to post this panel.

Let’s take a moment to consider Rewind as a character. He’s an archivist, and one who’s gotten very good at his job over the millennia. The guy’s OBSESSED with history, and recording as much of it as possible.

Which stands to reason that he knew about Chromedome’s past conjunx endurae. I mean, why wouldn’t he? It would be public record- even if you don’t necessarily get a marriage license on Cybertron, Chromedome would have been on the paperwork with these other guys somewhere, and the fact that he wouldn’t be able to answer the question of “Who’s this guy you lived with for several thousand years?” Would imply some… rather unfortunate things.

Rewind also has a hard time letting go of things- he gets jealous of Chromedome’s past relationship with Prowl any time it’s brought up, and he’s still looking for his ex-husband after what’s probably been at least a million years. That, combined with the way Rewind lives his life- you know, recording every single moment of it- gives me the impression that he really, really wouldn’t enjoy the idea of being forgotten. He wants Chromedome to stop injecting because it’ll kill him, of course he does, but he also wouldn’t want to be erased.

The video cuts off, leaving Chromedome alone. It’s all up to him now, whether Rewind gets to stay in his heart now.

Chromedome/Dominus is still on the table.

With THAT crisis of love dealt with, we move back on to that weird zombie nonsense we saw a little bit ago. Ultra Magnus is missing. Odd, that.

Ratchet, how many times are your patients going to have to disappear from your medibay before it’s less of a “them” problem, and more of a “you” problem?

As Ratchet goes off to search the rest of the ward, Tailgate accidentally bumps into the death clock, which gives him a nasty little surprise: apparently he’s only got three days to live.

Yeah, this is the point where the comic kicks into overdrive, plotwise- there are no brakes on this train anymore.

#transformers #jro #mtmte #issue 16 #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #overthinking about robots #incoming analysis #comic script writing

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mostpopulardisneygirl · 4 years

Text

Sugar Daddy Part 5

Prompt: Modern Arcana AU. Lucio is a wealthy business owner and MC is a college student.

Fandom: The Arcana

Pairing: Lucio x MC

Warning: NSFW

Word Count: 2,000

You stir awake on the soft pillows. Mercedes and Melchior are snuggled up against you. You grab your head and recollect your memory. “Movie night...and Lucio...” you muttered to yourself and gasps, covering your mouth. Suddenly the door opens and Lucio walks in with a tray. He remains shirtless, but at least he had the decency to put on some pants. “Good morning,” he places the tray next to you. “I bought you some breakfast. Hope you like pancakes.” You sit up straight on the pillows and he kisses your cheek.

“I didn’t want to disturb you while you were sleeping,” Lucio pets Mercedes and Melchior next to you. “You looked too cute while you were asleep.” You smile and join him in petting the dogs. “And the dogs really like you.” He smiles sincerely at you while you blush and look away. “Lucio...” you mutter. “Last night was...” He leans closer to you. “Yeah?” You rub your neck softly and he places a kiss on the flesh, making you shiver and melt into him. “Mmmmm,” you moan. “Last night was amazing.” Lucio nuzzles his nose against you. “Yeah,” he whispers. “You were amazing.”

You take a bite of your pancakes and offer a piece to Lucio. He takes a bite off of your fork and looks at you. You start to blush under his stare until he takes you lips on his. “You taste good,” he whispers against your lips. You lick his bottom lips in return. “You do, too.” Lucio gave you a sly chuckle and lie you back down on the pillows. “Aren’t we gonna finish breakfast?” You asked. Lucio pouts but helps you up and feed you the rest of your breakfast. You look down to your phone and saw several unread messages. All from Asra. “Oh, no,” you mutter.

“What?” Lucio placed the plate back on the bedside table. “I should’ve called Asra,” you answer. “He must be worried sick.” Lucio takes your hand. “Hey, just leave him a message. I’ll drive you home.” Lucio grabs a shirt from his closet and you watch his back. You bite your lips gently. “Enjoying the view?” He ask across his shoulders. You blush and grab your clothes from the floor. He watches you, transfix on you. “What?”

“Just enjoying the view,” he says as he watches you change.

Asra is pacing around the apartment, muttering himself while Julian is drinking his coffee. “They could’ve called. It’s morning now. Maybe they’re lost. I should’ve been there for them. Why did I choose to leave them again?” He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “You’re overthinking this, Asra.”

“Ilya,” Asra shouted. “My roommate is out there with that...that...” Suddenly, you walk in the door. Asra embraces you tightly. “MC! Are you okay? Are you hurt?” You hug him back and laugh. “I’m fine, Asra,” you say in a calm voice. “Last night just went a little...different than expected.” You make your way to your room and sighs as you slide down the door. You pull your phone out and start texting.

“I hope we can do it again sometime”

“Me too. Maybe you should come over again. 🍑😏”

You giggle as you text him back.

Unbeknownst to you, Asra and Julian are pressing their ears to your door. They each hear nothing except your giggling. “Yep,” Julian nods against the frame. “I’m telling you. They did it.” Asra made a sound of disgust. “Why are you still here?”

Days later, you went down to the school to make a payment to your student loans. “Hmm,” the dean muttered. “It looks like everything is payed for. You don’t owe anything.” You knit your eyebrows. “That can’t be right. I haven’t made a payment since last week. There must be some mistake.” The dean shakes their head. “Nope. Everything was paid in full a few days ago.” You nod slowly and placed everything back in your bag. “Thank you.”

Walking out of the school, you take your phone from your pocket. A few messages were left unread from both Lucio and Asra.

Asra: Went our for the day. I’ll see you again soon.

Lucio: You busy today? I have a something for you.

You decided to text Lucio. “I’m not busy today. But I’m curious about something. Someone payed my student loans.” You walk down back to your apartment and fumbled with your keys. A chime is heard from your phone.

Lucio: Isn’t that weird? Are you home?

You text him back while opening your door. “Yeah. Nothing much to do today. Think I might stay home, watch some movies, make cookies.”

Lucio: Cookies?! I love cookies. Mind if I come over to join you?

You smile at his enthusiasm. “Sure.” Suddenly you hear a knock at the door. “That was quick,” you thought to yourself. To your surprise, it was just a delivery guy. “Special delivery for MC. Sign here.” You sign the tablet and knit your eyebrows. “Your package is just outside.” You walk down to the parking lot and find a car you swore wasn’t there before with a humongous bow on top. “Who the...!” You look at the bow, and it surprisingly has your name on it.

“I hope you like my surprise,” you hear a familiar voice behind you. It’s Lucio, who arrived just in time. You laugh and hug him tight. “I can’t believe you did this!” Lucio shrugged and chuckled. “Well, no offense, your car was a piece of shit.” He holds up the keys to your new car in front of you. “Wanna take it for a joyride?” You jump in excitement and take a seat in the drivers seat. “Oooh,” Lucio takes a seat in the seat next to you. “Listen to that purr.”

“I didn’t start the car yet,” you explain. Lucio gives you a sly smirk. “I wasn’t talking about the car.” Your face glows bright red as you start the car and drive to the nearest stoplight. “You can go anywhere with this,” Lucio explains. “Anywhere I want? Even your place?” Lucio laughs out loud. “Absolutely!” You rushes the car at the green light, passing a familiar car as you go. “MC?” Asra pokes his head out of his window. You giggle madly as you rush your car pass him and around the corner. “MC!” Asra grits his teeth and turns the block.

You return to the apartment full of exhilaration. “That was amazing!” You breathe out. Lucio walks behind you with a bag of food. “I’m glad you like it,” Lucio places a kiss on your cheek, but a question rack in the back of your head. “Lucio?” Lucio turns to you. “Hmm?” You fidget with your hands gently. “Earlier today, I learned that my student loans were paid off, and then you come here with a brand new car for me.” Lucio takes a seat on the stool. “What about it?” You move closer to him. “Did you do this?” Lucio sucked in a deep breath.

“Just between you and me,” he bit his lips gently, “yeah. But to be fair, who else would pay for it. I mean, you got your shop, your internship with Jules.” He shrugs lightly. “What else?” You hug him tightly. “Thank you. It’s such a relief.” Lucio’s lips spreads into a smile. “We probably shouldn’t let this food go to waist,” Lucio hands you your takeouts and sits with you in your living room. “I wanna know more about you,” you take out your chopsticks and nudges him. “What do you wanna know?”

“Anything,” you say. “Like,” you place a hand on his thigh, “what are you into?” Lucio chuckles lightly and places his food down. “I’m gonna tell you a secret, MC.” He leans closer to your ear. “I really like being choked,” he whispers. “And maybe a little bondage.” You can’t help but blush madly, sweat drips gently down your forehead, which Lucio quickly kisses it away. “What do you say we have a little fun?” You nod lightly.

“Okay,” you whisper back and lead him in your room. Already, he presses his chest to your back, heat crawling under your skin. Lucio places his fleshed hand around your neck as he kisses down your shoulder. A light shiver escapes your lips. He pulls your shirt over your shoulders and tosses it to the floor. You shiver at your torso being exposed until Lucio unbuttons his shirt and presses his bare chest against your back again. “Lucio...” you breathe out his name while he sinks his teeth into your neck, making a dark mark.

“Do you want me to touch you, MC?” Lucio slithers his hand down to you pants and you nod quickly. “Please...” you mewl. “Please touch me, Lucio...” his hand slips inside your pants, touching your sensitive spot. You cover your hand to muffle out your cry, but Lucio takes it and pulls it away. “No,” he whispers. “I want to hear you.” You moan at every touch and he purrs against your neck. He pushes you onto the bed, your chest against the sheets. He removes your pants in a swift motion and kisses down from your shoulder to your lower spine.

“Get on your hands and knees,” Lucio kisses your neck and removes his pants from his waist. You follow his request and perch yourself up on your hands and knees, biting your lips at your heat. Lucio then teases you with the tip of his cock at your entrance. “Do you want me, MC?” He teases. You nod quickly. “Please, please fuck me, Lucio.” He complies by thrusting in you. You fist the sheets below you at his animalistic thrusts. “Lucio...!” You breathe out loudly. Suddenly there’s a knock on the door. You freeze and and push Lucio off of you. “Somebody’s here!”

“Who cares?” Lucio places his arms around your torso and kisses your shoulder. “Lucio, what if it’s Asra? Or Julian?” Lucio chuckles. “Why would be visit you?” You give him a serious look. “They could kill you.” Lucio scrambles off the bed and grabs his clothes. “Quick!” You push him in your closet. “Don’t make any sound!” To try and cover it up, you put on your best gym clothes and rush to the door. To your surprise, it’s Julian. “Julian, hi!” You let out a small breath. “Sorry, I was working out.”

“Asra called me,” he explained. “He wanted me to check on you since he was out. Everything okay?” You nod quickly. “Yep, everything is fine. And I have a meal to get to, so...” you try to close the door, but Julian steps inside. “That car outside, I haven’t seen it before.” A blanket of sweat covered your face. “It must be a visitor for a neighbor. Really, Julian. I think you can go now.”

“He’s in your closet, isn’t he?” Julian folds his arms over his chest and peers down at you. You chew your lips nervously and shut your eyes tightly. “Please don’t tell Asra. I know Asra hates him, but...”

“So that is your car? And the sweat around you? You weren’t really working out, were you?” You look down and ran your hands through your hair. “MC, I’m not going to tell you who you should or shouldn’t be with, but...” you stop him with your hand to his mouth. “Let him leave before Asra sees him.” Julian was shock at your request, but after seeing a few tears shedding from your eyes, he nods. “He should be home soon.” You escort Lucio out of the apartment just enough time for him to leave without Asra knowing. “MC...” Julian reaches out a hand to you for comfort, but you recoil. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Asra walks in the apartment and looks between you and Julian. “What’s going on?” You wipe at your eyes. “Nothing.” You grab your takeouts and head back to your room.

#thearcanajulian #the arcana #the arcana apprentice #count lucio #count lucio x mc #julian devorak #the arcana lucio #asra alnazar #lucio the arcana #count lucio x reader #count lucio x apprentice #count lucio the arcana

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usagichanp · 4 years

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lexthan

*rubs hands together* I was hoping someone would ask me that

This is gonna be a long one folks.

General:

Rate the Ship -

How long will they last? - Life long partners, babey.

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - I think they had crushes on each other for a while. They didn't officially say "I love you" till a few months into their relationship, but they thought it sooner.

How was their first kiss? - I wrote a lesbian Lexthan version of their first kiss, though I don't think canon Lexthan's first kiss was like that. I imagine it to be not really planned out; just like they're talking to each other in the car and lock eyes, then slowly lean in and kiss. Since they've had kisses before, it's not a catastrophe, and it's actually fairly soft.

Wedding:

Who proposed? - Ethan. Wrote a whole ass fic about it.

Who is the best man/men? - I know who the best man is in my fics (it's my man Marsh, for those who have read it), but idk about the canon Ethan's best man. Maybe Danny (the Smoke Club Boy) but I'm not sure if they'd be friends enough to be his best man. He might not have one.

Who is the bride's maid? - Hannah. Duh.

Who did the most planning? - Ethan, but Lex chipped in too. Tom might help as well if asked lol

Who stressed the most? - Ethan. Though their ceremony isn't big, he still wanted it to be a good memory down the road (it was)

How fancy was the ceremony? -

Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.

First they had just a courthouse wedding where they signed the papers, then had a tiny wedding ceremony with only close friends. Even if they could afford a proper wedding (Canon Lexthan prolly couldn't afford it) I don't think they'd want a big affair anyways. It's be exhausting.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - Lex's mom. Obviously.

Sex:

Now we're getting to the good part lads

Who is on top? - Ethan is a fucking switch. You can't convince me otherwise. He tops maybe like... 60/40 or 65/35. But when Lex tops, she tops bitch.

Who is the one to instigate things? - Ethan likes instigating things since he's a horny teenage boy, but it Lex doesn't want to, he stops. Sometimes Lex instigates, but usually when she does she's in the mood to top.

How healthy is their sex life? -

Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now

I'd give it a 7.5, depending on the situation. While they try to tone it down around Hannah, when they have alone time they'd totally go for it. Ethan's glovebox in his car has a box of condoms in it at all times. What can I say, as I said before, they're horny teenagers

How kinky are they? -

Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

They don't like seeing each other hurt so they wouldn't like BDSM. They're not vanilla but nothing too crazy- blindfolding, light bondage (aka tying hands up with rope or cloth), scratching, light spanking, pegging

How long do they usually last? - It depends on how much time they have to have sex. They've done quickies in bathrooms or whatever before, but if they have all night then they're pretty good at prolonging it.

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - Absolutely. It is said in multiple fics (I think?) of mine that Ethan makes sure Lex has the same amount of orgasms as he does. Always.

How rough are they in bed? -

Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.

They certainly can have slow, soft, romantic sex, but Ethan is also 100% capable of rocking Lex's world so hard she can't walk right for a week. (That happens in my first fic, Cassieopia, albeit off screen)

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? -

No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.

1) I fucking love that metaphor 2) They don't get much physical affection at home, so they fucking love snuggling and cuddling- whether it be after sex or just hanging out. Sometimes they cuddle as a form of stress relief after a shitty day.

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? - 2, maybe 3.

How many children will they adopt? - I think they might prefer to have children naturally, but in my California series they gain custody of Hannah when she's 12. Does that count?

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - Lex forces Ethan to learn how to change diapers. That being said, Lex isn't half bad at changing them either, since she helped change Hannah's when she was a child.

Who is the stricter parent? - They're not exactly strict parents, but both Lex and Ethan can definitely scold the kid. ("hAnNaH! tHaT bEtTeR bE fUcKiNg fLoSs!!!!!") That being said, both take care to not be abusive to their child, especially Lex. She doesn't want to be like her mom, so she tries to keep her temper in check.

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - Ethan has good reflexes, and has stopped his kids from falling and hitting their chin on a playground structure more than once. (Fun fact! That happened to me when I was 3. I fell from a steel elephant shaped jungle gym at a German zoo, hit my chin on a steel bar, and bit through my lower lip/knocked 3 teeth out. I still have the scar years later lol)

Who remembers to pack their lunches? - Lex. Though the lunches aren't always the healthiest.

Who is the more loved parent? - I think they're both loved, but maaaaaybe Ethan a bit more.

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? - Neither would attend PTA meetings out of the goodness of their hearts. If Lex or Ethan would go to a PTA meeting, it'd most likely be because they wanted to yell at a teacher or principal. They might go seperately or together depending on the severity of the issue.

Who cried the most at graduation? - Ethan wouldn't admit he cried, but he did. So did Lex.

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - Oh bitch, Lex and Ethan both said fuck the law. If it was just like, an overnight jail cell for some stupid misdemeanor, they might try to break their kid out. Otherwise, Lex would probably the one paying the bail because Ethan would try to punch the cop in the face if the cop talked shit about Ethan's kid. That reaction is not exclusive to cops.

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - Neither of them are exactly 5 star chefs, but they can hold on their own. Lex is better at cooking breakfast and Ethan is better at cooking dinner- but if he's exhuasted from work, Lex can cook dinner for him.

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - Neither are picky. Both of them grew up young scrappy and hungry just like their country without really the chance to be picky. They had to take what they could get.

Who does the grocery shopping? - Lex. She's good at calculating totals in her head. I wrote that in an unrealeased fic.

How often do they bake desserts? - Rather rarely. Perhaps on special occasions or to bond. Ethan has ruined the kitchen with his kid trying to bake a cake for Lex at least once. Maybe more.

Are they more of a meat lover or salad lover? - Meat lovers, babey. Fuck that fancy plant bullshit.

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - Ethan. I wrote that in the proposal fic.

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - Depends on what you count as "going out". Lex likes going to McDonalds, but Ethan is the one who suggests eating at actual restaurants.

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidently while cooking? - Ethan, but both have had near misses.

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - Both had fairly messy rooms as teenagers so they're not super anal about having sparkling clean rooms. That being said, when someone comes over Lex does try to tidy the place up a bit. At least enough to make it seem like they have their shit together. Ish.

Who is really against chores? - Ethan can be a bit of a lazy bones sometimes, but Lex isn't exactly a huge fan of chores either. However, she is used to doing chores since she practically raised herself and Hannah.

Who cleans up after the pets? - They take turns. Both hate it.

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - Ethan, because he doesn't want to incur Lex's wrath.

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - Lex. As I said above, she actually actively cleans the house beforehand. Not to the level of that freaking out mom from the comedy video who's name I can't remember tho.

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - Ethan. He has a nack for finding random bits of money. Score.

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - Lex, though both take relatively quick showers to save water.

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - They actually like doing it together. It's nice to get some fresh air, and they enjoy each other's company.

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - Ethan goes over the top, partially to annoy Lex. You know that Christmas tree Chris Pine vine? Yeah, Ethan would fucking do that.

What are their goals for the relationship? - Live a better life together than they did in Hatchetfield. White picket fence and California dreams shit.

Who is more likely to sleep till noon? - Ethan, but Lex is known to sleep till 3 in the afternoon if she's really tired.

Who plays the most pranks? - Ethan. That's literally canon.

I can babble about them all day lol

#Lexthan #Black Friday #lex foster #ethan green #I'll reblog this later with links to my fics #thank you!!#asks

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purplesurveys · 3 years

Text

1147

Have you ever overflown a bathtub? Hmm, I can’t remember ever doing that.

Why did you ignore the last person you ignored? My new manager, Kata, messaged me a bunch of links to EXO’s videos to get me into them – I looooove that she’s friendly and we vibe super well so I have a feeling will be close soon enough, but I’m still a bit shy so I ignored her for a bit while I was thinking of a reply haha. I’ve since gotten back to her, though.

What's your favorite pizza place? Yellow Cab’s pizzas have never failed me. Mama Lou’s is good too, but they don’t deliver to my area so I haven’t had their pizzas and any of their food in over a year now.

What was the last stupid thing someone talked you into believing? That we can stay friends. I believed it for a while and it was so mentally and emotionally deteriorating for me, so I did the right thing and let go instead.

What's at the top of your to do list in life? Save. I’m superrrrr frugal with my money and hate spoiling myself. I’d rather enjoy everything in the future once I feel like it’s right to settle down.

What's a song that would describe your life at the moment? What Type of X by Jessi. Maybe not my life, but the song certainly matches my mood these days.

Do you ever scream at inanimate objects? Occasionally, if they’re not working or if I accidentally hurt myself with them.

What was the last thing that you shared? I just had lunch delivered to Angela’s place as a surprise, if that counts. I got her chicken wings and these chocolate chip cookies she’s always wanted to try. It feels really nice surprising people with gifts; I might start making it a habit :) I have to credit my director Bea for it - she’s been having food delivered to mine and Kata’s places recently and I just want to pay it forward.

What smell/s can you absolutely not stand? Fruits. We constantly have a stock of oranges because my parents and sister like having them after dinner, and the smell is nauseating. Spoiled food is also high up on my list, and the general smell in Manila is also very foul. Go to other places in the Philippines if you’ll ever visit!!!

Do you ever eat leftover pizza cold? Yessssssssssssssss. Idk why but I find it really good? like even if I eat it straight out of the fridge.

Where are you the most ticklish? The sides of my stomach and around my neck.

Would you put your life in danger to rescue someone? Someone absolutely important to me, yes.

When you're wanting a midnight snack, what do you normally get? I usually don’t really like the snacks we have in our pantry so unless I already had food delivered earlier in the evening I just let the hunger fade because I don’t like having food delivered that late anyway.

Which cartoon character would you want to keep as a pet? Buster from Toy Story. Or Maximus from Tangled but in dog form, because I don’t know how to care for a horse.

What color best represents you? Something peaceful like off-white, or a pastel shade.

Do you like marshmallows? I hate them.

What is your favorite flavor of candy cane? I also don’t like candy canes, or candy in general. Too sweet and I can always feel how unhealthy they are whenever I have to have them.

Do you have any shoeboxes full of old photos/letters/other memorable stuff? My mom has several plastic bags filled with photographs over the last few decades. As for me, I don’t own any memory boxes; but recently, I’ve been sticking up notes from my friends and co-workers up on my corkboard.

Are you in any way double jointed? Nope.

Have you ever considered a career in music/acting? Never. I never liked singing in public and I’ve never considered acting.

When was the last time you felt seriously embarrassed? A few days ago when I accidentally turned my camera on during a work Zoom meeting while I looked completely unpresentable. Luckily I knew I clicked the button and immediately un-clicked it, but my video still showed up for like 0.001 seconds lol.

Have you ever liked a song, looked up the lyrics to it, then hated it? I don’t think I’ve gone so far as to hate it. I have felt slightly disturbed upon hearing the lyrics of some songs I’ve taken a liking to though; and Cherry Wine by Hozier certainly ticks off this box.

Which is worse for you: being hot, or being cold? Hot, which is why living where I do doesn’t work with me well for the most part.

What would be the icing on the cake for you this Christmas? Get nicer gifts for my loved ones. I was able to get everyone presents last Christmas, but given that I had just received my first-ever salary then, I wasn’t able to go all out as much as I would’ve liked. I’d love to spoil my loved ones even more for next Christmas.

If you had the opportunity to live forever, would you take it? Probably, as long as I was guaranteed to live comfortably. I’d love to see how else technology can continue to improve.

Have you made someone happy today? I hope so, when I got Angela food earlier.

Do you generally watch a lot of television? I do watch my favorite shows a lot, but not on television. Most of my content I already consume online.

If your bedroom walls could talk, what would they most likely say? They’d probably go over all the shit I had to go through and the ensuing breakdowns they’ve had to watch from me over the years.

What's your favorite Christmas song? It’s Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas, because it makes me feel festive.

Did you ever really believe in Santa Claus? Only for a brief moment when I was introduced to the concept, but kid-me never bought it because he never showed up.

Do you like the band Relient K? I’ve heard of the band name but I’m largely unfamiliar with them.

Have you ever seen a movie that was better than the book it was based on? Maybe, but for the most part I usually find the books to be better.

Do you like quesadillas? Yes, omg and with jalapeños and cheese *chef’s kiss*

Did you like the show Invader Zim? Nope.

Do you think tomorrow will be a good day? I feel like I’ll be sullen because it will be Sunday again, but I still plan on making the most out of it.

Do you ever talk to yourself? A lot.

Whose butt did you last slap? Idk, probably my ex.

Do you think that chivalry is dead? I don’t think so, but I also think it’s a bit outdated.

What's the greatest/most influential song you've ever heard? That’s a lot of pressure on a song... as much as I don’t really like The Beatles, I’d say Hey Jude has been pretty influential.

What's the weirdest thing you've seen in a grocery store? Not sure. If I had thought something I’ve seen was the weirdest thing ever, I would’ve taken a photo.

What is true love to you? Sacrifices.

Do you like chocolate milk? YES, lactose intolerance be damned.

Have you ever bought yourself a present on Christmas? Not yet. I hope to be able to this year!

Have you ever been on a mechanical bull? Nope, but I’d definitely get on one if I find one here.

Do you prefer to pull off band-aids slowly or quickly? Slowly. Actually, I prefer running water over it until it just slides off.

Have you made a mistake in the past week? I am constantly making tiny mistakes at work.

What was the last weird thing you said to someone? Idk, I feel like all the conversations I’ve had recently didn’t involve any inside jokes or general weirdness.

Have you ever met any bands/band members before? I got to work with one - Redd is the drummer for a local band but he’s since resigned to work with another company.

Have you ever sat on a copy machine and made copies of your butt? No. I’ve never even used a copy machine.

Are you a camera whore? Not at all, I hate posing for the camera.

Have you ever purposely dropped someone's toothbrush in a toilet? Never even considered it.

What kind of mood are you in right now? A little sad because it’s the weekend and I can’t even do my weekend coffee shop trips anymore because Covid cases are experiencing another surge (9000 cases a day!!!), protocols are everywhere again, and my parents already told me I can’t go out...those moments were my rare time alone where I can take walks and reflect and whatnot (and not to mention experieince air conditioning for a few hours), so it sucks to have to be stuck at home again. There’s not much to do at home to begin with, so now I’m just stuck in a cycle of taking surveys and finding videos to watch on YouTube.

What was the last thing someone told you that had you at a loss for words? I was ranting to Andi about how I started despising Diane from BoJack Horseman the moment she flipped out over Mr. Peanutbutter gifting her an entire library. I get where she’s coming from, of course, “understand people’s love language” and all that; but I felt like the very hostile reaction was super uncalled for and it reminded me a lot of my relationship with Gabie – I liked giving and giving, but it was either 1) never enough or 2) apparently the wrong way to show her love, and I was always the one punished for it in the end. I told Andi that because of my experience with her, I don’t even feel like giving a library (metaphorically speaking) to any future significant others anymore because of how hard I had it with her.

Anyway, they gave me some advice about it and in the end they told me, “One day, someone will tell you, “Thank you for your library.’” It was very beautifully put and I struggled to find the words to reply.

What's something that always makes you smile, regardless of what’s going on? I’m not sure there is such a no-fail thing.

What was that last thing that you bought online? Food for Angela.

Do you enjoy riding around town looking at Christmas lights? Yeah, but the general mood for last year obviously wasn’t super festive and there weren’t as much lights, so it’s been a while since I’ve seen my village all decked out.

Is there someone that you're mean to for no good reason? No, that’s terrible.

What was the last thing you got out of the freezer? The coffee ice cream that I bought from Leigh yesterday! It’s crazy fucking good and I already feel a repeat order coming through.

Are you currently reading anything? No.

What's a good book you'd recommend? I don’t read anymore. I know child/teen-me would be very disappointed.

#survey #surveys

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summonerscenarios · 4 years

Note

this is my first ask here so please ...... be gentle. 😖 S-so wha-what are your T-Top 10 favorite Charakters in TAS? a-and could you give me l-like 1 or 2 reason please. (sorry if I write it weird I'm a little nervous) and if somebody already ask you this ...... I'm sorry

Heyya hun no need to be nervous it’s totally chill!!! Always happy to ramble about favs! Honestly I probably have waaaaaaaay too many favorites to narrow down (but honestly don’t we all?) but if i had to narrow it dowwwwwwwnn-

(also these are in no particular order)

I like Mr. Triton specifically because of the gogo event. Being one of the first events i played I’m not gonna lie it’s one of my favorites - his special event after the main event too was just PEAK. ALSO IS RESPECT FOR THE OCEAN? As someone who both deeply fears and loves it I WISH I had that level to just scream how much i love smth like that - it’s a powermove and honestly iconic.

I really like Shiro too! I’ve probs said it before but I see a lot of myself in him especially the flaws - it was essentially “lmao man that’s pretty funny...WAIT A SECOND-” Also the way he treats the D-evils???? They’re his kids you can’t convince me otherwise - he celebrates their birthdays and goes to their recitals like the doting father he is and that’s the FACTS.

Also Ryota! Being one of the first people aside from Sal that you meet I naturally got attached - but honestly after hearing how he struggles with a desire to be important to someone and to have that one of a kind relationship whilst fearing being left behind??? Man that shit hit me WAY TOO HARD. Like damn talk about too close to home aasdfghjkl. Also just the fact that he just wants people to be happy and not fight? Seriously if everyone in TAS had that mentality the game would be a hell of a lot shorter im just saying.

Okay this one is probably super obvious BUT THE CRAFTERS. I LOVE EM TOO MUCH SO TO SAVE SPACE IM BUNCHING EM UP. Kurogane and Heph especially like they’re honestly my favorite guild in the game so ANY time they show up I get stupidly giddy like ‘THERE THEY ARE THERE’S MA BOYS’ so you can imagine how happy I am with the current event going on rn~

Honestly all of the Shinjuku teachers are cool too! Though I do wish we got to see more of them! I love the dynamic between Jinn and Triton and honestly Mononobe’s just a stressed dad of an entire school just trying to keep em all together like SOMEONE GET THIS MAN A MEDAL AND CHAIR TO REST IN ASAP. Also Ziz??? Goddd I love her sm!!! She’s so nurturing (even tho it’s potentially self destructive) and I loved her in the valentine event! Plus when she said we were known as the trouble child? Yikes just shoot me in the knees it’ll hurt less asdfghjkl

Zao is also a fav tho it started off veryyyy reluctant! Honestly every time he got exasperated with the MC even I got stubborn when he demanded we back down and this is coming from someone with the backbone of wet spaghetti! The cave scene in his event though??? I will admit my heart did melt a little bit. ALSO MOUNTAINS??? HELL YEAH I WANNA CLIMB A MOUNTAIN SIGN ME UP I say as someone deathly terrified of heights asdfghjk

I also love a lot of the Yoyogi academy characters! Gunzo is probs my top fav from there because just his whole thing is just so cute. ALSO HIS DEDICATED DENIAL TO THE SPIRITS ON HIS BACK ONLY TO TRIP UP SO MANY TIMES AND PRETEND IT DIDNT HAPPEN??? THIS MAN CAN BE SUCH AN IDIOT SOMETIMES AND FUCK ME IF IM NOT SMITTEN. We honestly love lack of braincells in this house can relate I’m dumb as shit.

Durga too!! she’s honestly so headstrong and I can appreciate her drive to always be number 1! Tho I can totally understand how she goes a liiiiil bit too far (ie most of her events asdfghjkl) Also ngl she is super fun to doodle.

MELUSINE. NEED. I. SAY. MORE. Like the more I learn about her the more I wanna find the person who broke her heart. Like dw just give me a name and location I just wanna talk. Her design is breathtaking and the more events I see her in the more I honestly just love her character.

GARMR. I CAN’T BELIEVE I DIDN’T MENTION HIM SOONER. ABSOLUTE BABY BOY. Like I KNOW realistically he’s a big ol rough n tumble guard dog who could break my bones with a too hard hug but that will NOT stop me from seeing him as a loyal fluffy child.

Idk if this counts but I also like the MC’s potential? like obviously the MC is mostly centered around what we as the player want them to be but they’re just so interesting to delve into??? especially because of their circumstances. Like they’re literally thrown into a world with nothing but a name and a phone and they’re flying through everything by the seat of their pants and because they’re ‘lucky’ enough to have 23 souls crammed into them??? LIKE THAT IS A LOT TO HAVE ON YOUR SHOULDER. if anybody needs to go to some kind of therapy its them - Also I personally hc that they probably have a severe attachment to all of the things that they have like photos and even little things like receipts and stuff just to know that they still have those memories to cling to because they dont have any prior - sad hours in this house tonight folks.

Okay I’m gonna stop here cause I know for a fact I’ve gone way over 10. Sorry about going a lil overboard there ^^’Thank you so much for asking darling and I hope you have a wonderful day~!

#quantumsbq #Juno ramblings #oooohh boy i got way too carried away again #im so sorry about rambling ya'll i know you're here for the content but i just couldnt help myself asdfghjk

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consumedkings-archive · 4 years

Text

ancient names, pt. vii

A John Seed/Original Female Character Fanfic

Ancient Names, pt vii: anything that touches

Masterlink Post

Word Count: ~6.4k (sorry I’m a clown)

Rating: M for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop.

Warnings: Language, some “light” religious blasphemy (it’s Far Cry 5). Strong canon deviance from here on out. Uhhh brief mental breakdown that implies disassociation, and also some weird Joseph/Deputy if you squint real hard. Like REAL hard.

Notes: This chapter was a blast to write, mostly because I got to revisit that ICONIC scene (iykyk). That's pretty much the last in-canon thing we're going to have; the dialogue is essentially the same, but it felt important for me to have Elliot's experience of what it was like, when she was still soft and new.

Y'all the HOPELESS romantic in me is SUFFERING through these two but. I swear!! I swear. I SWEAR. Also anyone who tells me John doesn't want a partner who can put his ass in the dirt can fight me in hand to hand combat, because home boy needs it.

Thank you, as ALWAYS, to my sweet talented beautiful incredible @starcrier for proof-reading when this stuff is still in trash stages, and the ever-dutiful and perfect @empirics, who doesn’t even go here and yet???? Still stans and ships like she do. We love.

As always, thank you again to everyone who reads/comments/whateva! I’m so grateful for anything and everything and I just want to make it clear that I would not continue writing without you. Tysm!

John had never felt dread like this.

It was strange, the way it crept upon him as they walked to the trees. It was dark out, but the clouds had cleared so the moon and stars above were perfectly visible; it wasn’t as though he couldn’t see, and the closer they got to the trees, the more assured John felt that the van was there, or had been there. He supposed he didn’t know if the cultists had made off with it or not.

No, he wasn’t feeling dread about the fact that they were on foot, or that Boomer was nowhere to be seen, or that it was dark, or that he didn’t know for absolute certain that he was going in the right direction.

He felt dread because they were alive: because they were free, because there was no cultist in sight. He felt dread because Elliot was clutching his hand in hers, and her other hand was gripping his forearm, and she no longer moved with the surety of the apex predator she had made herself out to be in a very short period of time. Her feet hit the ground with heavy, unsteady thuds, their progression through the field and to the trees painfully halting. He had a very vivid memory of Elliot telling him, I’d rather you let me eat shit when he’d tried to steady her from falling, just a few days ago.

She wouldn’t look at him, either. Not directly in the eyes. He didn’t know if this was another side-effect of whatever they’d laced her with, or if it was Elliot, or if it had anything to do with the way she’d tried to pull away from him when he’d first found her in the field.

“Elliot,” John said, trying not to sound frustrated as her nails dug into his arm, “loosen your grip a little.”

Her lashes fluttered. She said, “Okay,” but then nothing changed, even though she looked like she was trying, as though the faculties with which she normally operated were so severely hindered that she wasn’t even aware if her body was doing the things she was willing it to.

He didn’t bring it up again. Even when he thought certainly her grip was going to bruise, even when his arm began to ache.

By the time they got to the trees, the moon was high in the sky, and John’s legs burned with the effort of merely walking. That was all it had been, walking, but the longer he turned it over in his mind that they were headed into a trap, the more laborious the movements became. They waded through the trees, the moonlight only barely filtering through now, until he saw it: the van.

At first, he felt relief. And then, immediately after, crashing into any good mood he might have left, was the paranoia. Why did they leave it? he wondered, hesitating. A trap. They want us to get back into the van.

But if they were trying to trap them, why wouldn’t they have just... kept them?

“John.” Elliot’s voice dragged with exhaustion. When he looked at her, her cheeks were flushed with fever, and her pupils were still huge—but not as much as before. “I’m so… tired.” Her body swayed a little, her eyes struggling to stay open; she was crashing, hard and fast.

“Stay here.”

Carefully, John pried his arm out of her grip, sitting her down in the nook of a tree’s roots before creeping his way over to the van. It was empty, and open, as though the cultists had just taken them and left it as it was. He wasn’t about to get caught a second time, so he moved quickly—climbed into the back, grabbed the backpack Elliot had filled with food and Tylenol, and reached for where he thought the guns were.

“Fuck,” John said. Gone. Everything else was left, except for the guns. And his glasses. Fuckheads.

He stuffed the pack of cigarettes and the lighter into the backpack before he slid out of the back of the van and made his way back to Elliot. Her face was buried in her knees, her fingers absently curling and uncurling, something that John knew was just an Elliot thing—he’d seen it when she was at her most stressed, when she was trying hard to stay rooted.

John reached out and touched her shoulder. Even though he’d been clambering through the brush, the gesture startled her, her head jerking up and her eyes looking at him for just a second before diverting.

“We can’t stay,” he said urgently. “Come on.”

She nodded numbly before she took his offered hand, hoisting herself to her feet and trailing after him past the van and out closer to the road side. He thought, briefly, about yelling for the dog, or trying to whistle the way Elliot did, but the idea of making a violent range of noise to fetch a beast from somewhere deep in the woods—if he even was there—did not sit right with him. So instead, he found them a spot that was still within the trees, but pressed into the slope that led up to the road, and sat Elliot down again.

Now that he had a moment to sit, a moment to think, his brain flipped a switch into a necessary, self-preservation panic. Just a little adrenaline, to keep him awake, surely; because he didn’t want to be sleeping any time soon.

John couldn’t push the image of Elliot, pressed against the earth, crying , out of his mind. What had she seen? What did they do? His mouth burned with the itch to ask, but he couldn’t bring himself to, not when her eyes couldn’t stay on one place for more than a second.

“They didn’t—they didn’t do it to you?” Elliot asked him, after she took the tylenol he gave her dry and picked a chocolate chip out of a granola bar. John turned his gaze to her, cocking his head to the side. She still carried with her that dreamer’s sway, that soft loopy tone to her voice that reminded him she wasn’t yet quite herself again, but he thought it sounded like she was clearing up. Hopefully.

“Do what to me, deputy?”

She blinked down at her hands. “Drug you.”

He hesitated. He’d certainly gotten something , though he didn’t think it was anything like what they’d given Elliot. “Not the same,” he said after a second. “But I was asleep, for a while. For hours. I don’t know how long.”

“I wish I had been sleeping.” Elliot’s voice was miserable. She had never been so small, he thought, than in that moment, and she tipped her body over until the side of her face was on the ground. And then, after her eyes had drifted shut and a lapse of silence had passed, she mumbled, “They probably thought I was a bigger threat than you.”

John fought the urge to smile. It only barely worked, and he was glad, because he didn’t need Elliot getting a bigger ego than she already had.

“Yes, Rook, you’re very scary and intimidating. All—what, four feet, eight inches of you?”

“I’m five foot four, you fuckhead.”

A wave of relief washed over him. He rested his head back against the tree, exhaling softly.

“Go to sleep, deputy,” he murmured, “so you can go back to being the bigger threat.”

For the sake of both of us.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

For the first time in what felt like years, Elliot slept.

It was fitful sleep, to be sure, plagued by a strange, blurring color-scape of nightmares and fever-dreams that haunted the corner of her sleeping vision. It all just lurked around the edges, never an image that she could pin down or find, only ever something that was present enough to fill her with a persistent terror. Voice melded into each other, overlapping; fragments of noise and color drifted in and out of her, like a tree shedding petals in a fiercer wind.

When she woke, light was just beginning to try and creep over the distant mountains. It wasn’t enough to feel like a real morning, like the day time , but enough that the milky glow of it filtered through the tops of the trees; the earth smelled wet and fresh, and her clothes were a little damp from sleeping on the wet ground. The sky stretched, gray and soft as wedding silk, through the tops of the trees. She wiped the water from her face.

I smell: the earth, the rain, the grass and wind. I see: the light, the sky, the tops of the tress. I feel —

“Ah, sleeping beauty awakens,” John said. His voice sounded gravelly; maybe he hadn’t slept at all, this whole time, which somehow made her stomach twist a little even though she didn’t want to care about what John did or didn’t get to do.

“Fuck off.” She groaned, coming into a sitting position and feeling her head immediately swoon with the effort. The back of it pulsed with a splitting pain, and she remembered the red-haired man from before, telling her to go back to sleep just before he slammed her head into the floor of the van. “God—what the fuck —”

“It’s so lovely,” John intoned, and she got the impression maybe it wasn’t lovely at all, “to have you back at full capacity again, deputy.”

Elliot pressed the heel of her palm to her head. “That asshole that works for Ase smashed my head in before he drugged me.”

John’s eyes narrowed. “Let me see.”

She stilled and closed her eyes against the splintering pain at the back of her head; she heard John shift where he was sitting, and then his hands against hers, brushing them away from the back of her head. Elliot tried not to think too much about how warm his hands were, how comforting the calloused feel of them was, or how gentle they were when he combed the hair out of his way. He clicked his tongue a little, hands dropping from her hair, and suddenly Elliot’s stomach plummeted, too; the loss of contact sent her poor little drug-addled lizard brain reeling.

“Well, you’ve got a nasty cut,” John said after a moment, “which is mostly scabbed over. And a bump that will probably be the size of an egg by the time it’s done.” His voice slid her out of her strange little panic, her desire to grab his hands and put them back on her face, even when that exact nightmare she’d had was stopping her from being able to meet his eyes for very long.

Elliot swallowed thickly. “Goody.”

She thought she could hear a smile in his voice when he said, “I’m sure you’ve had worse, Rook.”

“Don’t call me that.” She tried to force more heat in her voice, but she was so tired ; it felt like she hadn’t slept at all. John made a mild noise that might have been amusement, and then shifted where he sat before coming to a stand and stretching. Elliot asked, “Did you sleep?” and then immediately kicked herself ( because why would she care ), but it was too late to take the words back.

Her gaze flickered to John’s face and then immediately away. The strange dream—nightmare?—that she’d had of him, cradling her face, his touch searing through her, my Elliot , lingered on her skin still, heavy like a cinder block tying her down. It made it hard to look him in the eyes; she was afraid she’d see the flowers again.

“No,” he replied, and if it bothered him that she wasn’t looking at him very much, his voice didn’t sound like it. “Someone had to make sure those crazies didn’t come back.”

She scoffed, struggling to her feet. “The term crazies coming out of your mouth is impeccably comedic.”

“I’ll be here all night.”

Elliot shouldered the back pack and glanced around. The forest was quiet, and there was no sight nor sound of Boomer anywhere. She could only hope that he’d been out and away from the van when everything happened, and that he’d had the good sense to stay hidden. He was a smart boy. She tried not to worry too much.

At least, she would keep telling herself that, until proven otherwise. But she wouldn’t be whistling for him anytime soon—not with how easily they’d been tracked down by Ase and her fuckhead assistant.

“I suppose we should go on foot from here,” she said, a little mournfully, regretting the reasonable nature of her statement. She saw John grimace out of the corner of her eye.

“I suppose so, deputy.”

She heaved a sigh, fingers fluttering over the cut on the back of her head absently before she nodded. Her clothes were wet, she was nursing a raging hangover from whatever the fuck she’d been drugged with, and she’d eaten half a granola bar in a little over twenty-four hours. And if the drag of her breaths in her chest — even when she was taking a normal inhale — were any indication, sleeping in wet clothes had done nothing to improve her sickness.

Elliot set off, marching through the underbrush to get out of the woods and closer to the road. They passed the van again on their way out, and she thought, fuck, I’d kill John to get one more cigarette out of there, but she knew she shouldn’t. They probably had some kind of—bomb, or tracking device, or—

But in her heart of hearts, she knew that wasn’t true. They didn’t utilize machinery the same way that Eden’s Gate did. And if they wanted her and John dead, well. They would have killed them already. So even though she knew this, and thought it to herself, she couldn’t bring herself to go back to the car.

I see your color, mor, Ase had said, her voice like a thousand whispers against her skin. Elliot’s throat felt tight. She turned to John suddenly and said, “Hey, do you speak Swedish?”

John brushed past her. “What do you think?”

“How are you so unhelpful, and all of the time? Don’t you get tired of being useless?”

He laughed, and Elliot felt a little spark of indignation light in her chest. All of John’s strange tenderness—and she hadn’t forgotten, even if it was fuzzy, the way he’d held her face and said it’s me, Elliot, like he was supposed to be a comfort to her—

(and he was, now, what a sick thought, )

—was gone, and instead she kept thinking about the stupid fucking expression on his face when he’d said, so you think I’m attractive, then , because there was nothing more irritating than John Seed knowing he was attractive. It wasn’t like he needed her to tell him, so why he’d tried to wriggle the words out of her was beyond her comprehension; although Elliot supposed it could be explained that John hadn’t had anyone chant yes at his face for perhaps twenty-four hours, so how was he still sustaining himself? He must be craving attention, starved for it.

“You are the most annoying fucking person I’ve ever met,” Elliot announced, so that she could abruptly shove any and all thoughts of John’s hands on her face out of her head, huffing a little as she worked to catch up with him.

And then John turned around so suddenly that she careened straight into his chest, his hands landing to steady her shoulders—( warm, she thought absently)—and he said, “I know,” with all of the arrogance that she knew him to have. “Give me the backpack, deputy. If they are tracking us in some sick game of hide and seek, they’re going to hear you huffing and puffing from fifteen miles away.”

Elliot mustered all of the spite she had in her—which was not as much as she would have liked—and said, “I hate you, John Seed.”

“You’re going to have to find a new slogan,” John rumbled, sliding the backpack straps off of her shoulders, “because that one just doesn’t ring very true anymore.”

She let him take the backpack; not because she liked that he was being helpful, but because her shoulders screamed in relief. The more and more sober she became, the more her muscles ached, like she had been involuntarily tensing all night, and now they burned . John might as well have punched her entire body over and over again, with his stupid rings.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she replied, fishing the tylenol out of the bag and swallowing two. John rolled his eyes.

“Look, I can tell when you’re lying to me,” he said. “And I know that I’m irresistible, not only because I saved you—”

“Do not —”

“—but because, as a man of God, I am infinitely more wise than you, as well. If there is one thing that I would know about a woman of wrath, Deputy Honeysett, it’s that the one thing she wants is to feel in control of herself, and I’m exactly the man who can give you control.”

Elliot could have, perhaps, not picked a less-Godly man than John Seed; the only exception would be one of his brothers. His words rattled around in her skull. Was this the stupid shit he told himself? That he could give her control? Here, in the woods—soaking wet, sick, split open, walking for God knows how long on foot—and that’s the sales pitch he was going with?

Her jaw clenched, blistering the headache behind her eyes under an impossible heatwave of pure ache , and she pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’re—fucking—”

John waited, patiently, much to her fury: but the words would not come to her, color fractals splintering even when her eyes were closed, driving frenzied neurons to fire off pain signals over and over again. When she opened her eyes, for a second, an aura stretched across her vision, like someone pulling saran-wrap tight right over her face. She thought she might puke.

“I’m fucking...?” John prompted, and when she only shuddered a breath, his tone shifted a little. She couldn’t tell what to , but his voice was different when he said, “Deputy?”

He sounded, quite suddenly, like he was very far away from her. She tried to open her eyes again. The world wobbled unpleasantly, and the ground stretched beneath her until it felt like she was on a moving conveyor belt. She saw herself , standing there numbly, heels of her palms pressed against her eye sockets in a desperate attempt to quell the migraine.

“Elliot.”

John’s hands came to her face, yanking her back into a painful reality. He was too close now, smelling like wet earth and forest and a little bit like sweat, the rough, warm palms of his hands holding grounding her back to reality. He said, “Earth to Elliot.”

“Yes,” Elliot managed out. She couldn’t muster up any vitriol; one of her hands gripped John’s wrist where it cut through her peripheral. “I’m here,” she added, and she didn’t know why she said it like that , like she’d been somewhere else—maybe because she had. “Just—this head wound is really fucking with me. We have to get moving, and—”

She heard, a few feet away from them, the sound of a car door slamming. Her brain immediately jumpstarted; first, she thought, oh those fucking Swedes, and then her brain tried to say, or maybe it’s Jerome, or Grace, or —

It was neither of them. Through the haze of pain, Elliot heard the sound of Eden’s Gate’s radio playing, the sound of boots hitting the pavement.

“Well,” Joseph sighed, “if it isn’t the lamb and her shepherd.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Joseph Seed is a particularly difficult man to pin down.

She never meets him once, either before she goes off to the Academy or after, and she’s glad for it. After she gets back to Hope County, after she gets cleared by the psychiatrist, after she gets back to life-on-normal, she thinks she’d be happy to never see Joseph Seed. Not because she isn’t religious, but because she doesn’t like his brand, because the doomsday-ing and the wriggling past legalities of owning land or, perhaps, even people make her skin crawl.

Elliot doesn’t think she’d ever be able to walk herself into his compound. She doesn’t think she’d ever be able to look Joseph Seed in the eye, but she doesn’t have a choice , the helicopter planting them squarely in the compound.

The ground is wet, fresh from a recent rain, and slips underfoot. The night is clouded above with no stars in sight. She feels almost like she’s in a dream, Joey walking ahead of her as the U.S. Marshal bickers with Sheriff Whitehorse, back and forth. She’s barely listening. She feels eyes on them, burning, angry and defiant shouts coming from the onlooking Eden’s Gate members, and she hears the sound of dogs barking in the distance.

They get to the church. Inside, the congregation is singing Amazing Grace, and the crickets match its feverish pitch, sliding along her skin.

“Hudson, on the door and watch our backs,” Whitehorse says, when the Marshal— Burke , Elliot thinks absently, that was his name —acquiesces to doing things the way Whitehorse wants to do it. “Don’t let any of these people get in. Rookie, on me.”

Elliot nods, her gaze focusing sharp again. Whitehorse has taken a risk, bringing her out when she was still so green; she wasn’t going to let him down.

Not that he has much choice. They’re short-staffed as it was anyway.

“And you—” Whitehorse looks at Burke, his expression faltering, tired. “Just… Try not to do anything stupid.”

Burke claps him on the shoulder. He is all easy confidence, surety of foot, the kind of confidence Elliot wants to have some day. She hopes she doesn’t become tired, like Whitehorse. “Relax, Sheriff,” Burke says, “you’re about to get your name in the paper.”

But Elliot isn’t paying attention to them. She’s thinking about the armed men and women skulking around, and the dogs barking in the distance, and the sound of the singing from the inside of the church.

Joey’s hand briefly touches her shoulder. Her dark gaze is soft, and she squeezes Elliot’s shoulder before she says, “You’ll be fine.”

Whitehorse doesn’t look pleased by Burke’s comment. He doesn’t even look assuaged, mildly. He pushes the door open, and Elliot sticks close to his heel, as the singing comes to an abrupt stop; the church is dimly lit, with most of the light coming from behind the man at the front, his silhouette carved obsidian so that his features are obscured to her.

They walk slow. The man says, “ Something is coming. You can feel it, can’t you?”

His voice is a rich-willow timbre, decadent. The gathering of the cultists turn, their eyes piercing into the trio. Elliot’s heart is slamming against her rib cage. She doesn’t have a gun pulled—would never, not without Whitehorse’s blessing—but she wants to, not to fire but to warn. To keep them away.

“We are creeping toward the edge, and there will be a reckoning. That is why we started the Project—”

They’re dirty, and bedraggled. Elliot’s throat tightens. Why would they choose this? Why would they want to be like this?

“—because we know what happens next. They will come. They will try to take from us—take our guns, take our freedom, take our faith.”

Burke looks back at her, his hand floating and tense, ready to pull his gun at any moment. But he beckons her with a crook of his fingers and she does as he bids. Closer now, Elliot can see that the man is not alone; to the left, a tall, rugged red-head, his arms crossed, his expression stony. To the right, a soft young woman, dressed in white, dreamy. And just behind Joseph, a handsome, dark-haired man; a man that Elliot recognizes as John Duncan, but now is told by Joey is John Seed .

Joseph’s shirtless, which should be ridiculous and comedic but only serves to make him look both polished and feral in equal amounts. Golden light from outside drenches through a window cut to be the same shape as the emblem of Eden’s Gate, and it bathes him; he is golden, soft and sharp all at the same time.

“Sheriff, c’mon,” Burke says, because he is not charmed; he, too, thinks it is ridiculous. Whitehorse holds up a hand to steady him.

“We will not let them.” Joseph Seed’s voice flexes, furious and controlled. “We will not let their greed , or their immorality or their depravity hurt us anymore. There will be no more suffering.”

Burke is furious that the sermon —if it can be called that, which Elliot would argue that it cannot, knowing the Seeds—has continued this long. She hears him say, “No, fuck this,” and he pulls the paper out and holds up in front of the man’s face.

“Joseph Seed,” Burke bites out, “I have a warrant issued for your arrest, on the suspicion of kidnapping with the intent to harm. Now, I want you to step forward and keep your hands where I can see them.”

Elliot’s gaze flickers. She feels sick to her stomach. Joseph lifts his hands; he is soft, again, no longer fervent, no longer yelling, and his gaze fixes on her.

“There they are,” he says, his voice quiet. “The locusts in our garden.”

Members of Eden’s Gate—armed, ragged, feral —slide their way between them and Joseph.

“You see, they’ve come for me.” Other members are beginning to get angry. They’re yelling, now, as Joseph says, “They’ve come to take me away from you , they’ve come to destroy all that we have built,” and the voices raise in volume, and Burke puts his hand on his gun and Whitehorse yells for him to stand down and Elliot’s fingers itch and she thinks, oh, no, this is when I’m going to have to shoot someone.

But Joseph steps down from his platform. His hands brush the shoulders of his supporters, and they part for him, quieting the crowd, quelling their noise. Behind him, John steps across the stage, his eyes narrowed and sharp, studying them; he moves like an animal, prowling.

“We knew this moment would come. We’ve prepared for it,” Joseph says, gentle. He ushers them away; they brush past Elliot, her head turning after them, thinking certainly one will grab her, choke her, kill her, but they don’t.

“— and I saw, ” Joseph is biting out, pointing at Burke, and then looking at the sheriff, “ and behold, it was a white horse. ”

And then Joseph is looking at her. He lifts his hands to her. His eyes are fixed on her, and she feels a strange, uncanny thrill slide through her. Joseph looks at her like she is the only person in the room, like all others have blinked out of existence and it’s only them.

That’s why, she thinks, the feeling of it making her heart ache a little. That’s why they choose to be this way. To belong to someone.

She knows that’s what it is. She knows that’s how he’s gotten these people to follow him: because he looks at them like this, with longing, like there is nothing in the world that he wants more than to take them into his embrace.

His voice is breathless, soft, covetous, jealously cradling her in velvet swathes: “ And Hell followed with him.”

Elliot feels frozen. Petrified. Her stomach churns. She can feel the eyes of the Seed siblings on her. Burke jerks his hand at her, breaking her out of her reverie.

“Rookie, cuff this son of a bitch.”

Joseph is holding out his hands, obedient and compliant. “God will not let you take me.”

Burke says it again, maybe different, she can’t remember because the blood is rushing through her head, so she does as he asks. Her hands might be trembling. She takes Joseph’s hands and slides the cuffs on them, and he leans into her like he’s going to breathe her in or swallow her whole and almost purrs —

“Sometimes, the best thing to do is to walk away.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

John’s hands slid from Elliot’s face. The first thing he felt when he saw Joseph was relief —sheer, pure relief, that it wasn’t the Resistance that had found them and that it wasn’t Ase and her man again, but that it was his brother. Over his shoulder, too, John could see Jacob in the driver’s seat of the truck, his face stony and hard as always.

The second thing that John felt was dread.

Joseph’s expression was unreadable. It almost always was, he supposed, but now the fact that he couldn’t tell what Joseph was thinking struck a hot cord of fear inside of him, because he was reminded—now and painfully—that Faith was still lost to them.

“Joseph,” John managed out, his hands drifting now from Elliot completely, where before they had slid to her shoulders. “I’m so glad to see you.”

“You could sound like it,” Elliot muttered, and he shot her a look before he turned back to his brother, immediately crossing the gap from him to Joseph, standing on the road. Joseph watched him steadily, and once he was within arm’s reach, John stopped, hesitating.

“We were on our way to you,” Joseph explained, his voice steady, a soothing balm to John’s frayed nerves. “We heard talk on the radios that our sister had been taken, but we didn’t get a response when we tried to contact you at the ranch.”

John nodded. “Yes, it’s—there’s so much to tell you—”

Joseph’s hands came to rest on his shoulders for a moment; and, much the same way that John had done to Elliot, Joseph took his face in his hands.

“We’re so glad you’re alive,” Joseph murmured, his expression softening just that much . John felt the relief flood his system immediately at the gentle contact—merciful, healing, the way Joseph liked to be. “And that our dear deputy is still with you. Compliantly, too, it seems.”

Elliot’s voice was hard as flint when she said, “Yeah, well, you missed the last twenty-four hours where this fucking idiot had us cuffed together.”

Behind the yellow lenses of his glasses, Joseph’s gaze flickered to wherever Elliot lingered behind John, over his shoulders. His brother stared at Elliot for a moment; there was something in the way Joseph locked his gaze on the blonde that made John’s stomach twist uncomfortably, and he couldn’t quite pin it down, either, couldn’t get it to stop squirming long enough for him to figure out what it was.

“And yet,” Joseph said after a moment, his voice a low drawl as his hands dropped from John, “you are here, unburdened.”

John turned to look at Elliot. She still had to be in pain; she might have been trying to hide it, because of Joseph, or maybe even still because of him , but he could see it on her face, in the way her fingers curled and uncurled themselves absently, absently digging her nails into her palms. But this little give-away of hers meant nothing to anyone else, because the lines of her face were sharp and unrelenting.

Elliot’s gaze did not once leave Joseph. John recognized on her face that same odd, cold calculation she’d had when she’d thought about choking that Eden’s Gate guard out. If there was, he supposed, one person that Elliot hated more than himself, it was Joseph; perhaps she was thinking about all of the ways she wanted to kill him , now.

“Well, coincidental, we were on our way to you , Joseph. There’s now a problem one size bigger than your little cult.” Elliot said, her shoulders relaxing. She crested the hill up to the road, her feet hitting the pavement with more surety than she’d had since she’d woken up. It was like seeing someone that she hated had poured adrenaline straight into her body, and now she moved with the same precision she always did—though if the weariness in her expression was any indication, she was only half capacity. “How lucky .”

Joseph gazed at Elliot, as though John didn’t exist—as though no-one and nothing else existed, in that moment, except for her. John’s stomach lurched again, once more, with feeling! a wicked voice shouted in his brain, rattling around, keeping him nice and distracted so that he couldn’t figure out quite what it was that it made him feel.

“Fated,” Joseph agreed. His voice was almost sly. “One could say.”

“One could,” Elliot shot back, “but one shouldn’t, if they don’t want to sound like an idiot.” The words shot a jolt of fearful anticipation through John—not only because he thought, Joseph is only so merciful , but because he was sure that it reflected back on him, the way she felt so comfortable insulting Joseph.

“Deputy,” John snapped, and she glared at him, her brows knitting together at the center of her forehead. Joseph smiled pleasantly.

“Mouthy,” Jacob said from the truck, his voice clipped, “for someone who wants our help.”

Elliot bit out venomously, “Fuck you,” just as John said, “ Elliot ,” their voices overlapping furiously, and she looked at him again. There was something accusatory in her gaze. John wanted to pluck it out of her, break it apart so he could figure it out: but there wasn’t any time for that now.

Her hands curled into fists at her sides, like she was going to fight Jacob right then and there, and John wasn’t entirely sure that she wouldn’t, pushed enough. He turned back to his brothers and said, “She’s agreed to help and get Faith back.”

“Not for nothing.” Elliot’s add-in was sharp. “I get to use the radios to contact the resistance and tell them to get the fuck out of Dodge.”

Joseph’s gaze fluttered between them, just for a moment—landing on Elliot for a heartbeat longer than it did on John—and then he stepped back, gesturing for them to get into the back seat of the truck. The blonde stepped on without John, brushing past him and flinging the door of the truck open before hoisting herself inside.

“How much do you know?” John asked as he climbed in after Elliot, shoving the backpack behind one of the seats. He tried not to think about the way Elliot’s eyes stayed pinned on Joseph, or the way her body had gone rigid, like at any moment she was ready to throw her fists in the direction of the nearest Seed brother—and certainly now, she had her pick if that were the case.

“Enough,” Joseph replied. He closed the passenger seat door and Jacob pulled the steering wheel of the truck until it was turning around. “But I’m certain you’ll be of more help.”

John opened his mouth to elaborate and give what information he had at the top of his brain when Elliot said, abruptly and without pretense, “You’ve come so unguarded, Joseph. Doesn’t that make you nervous?” and John turned his head to stare at her in disbelief.

Fucking insane, he thought. She wants to die. Does she ever stop?

But Joseph only laughed. Through the rearview mirror, John saw his eyes make contact with Elliot’s, and he said, “Jacob is sufficient protection on his own.” He paused, something slick and cool in his voice when he added, “But your concern is touching .”

“That’s an interesting choice of word. Not what I would have picked, though.”

“When we heard the radio chatter,” Jacob interrupted, before John could will himself to tell Elliot to shut the fuck up while he was still within hitting range, “Joseph told everyone to hunker down while we identified the threat. For once, it wasn’t a little girl playing with a shotgun.”

The accusation lay there, unspoken: Jacob had made it clear many times that he was certain he could snuff Elliot out faster than anyone else, either deeming her useless or shaping her into the perfect killer. If Joseph would just let him, he’d said, he would see.

But Joseph had told him to wait. To let John—persuasion was his specialty. Let John show us.

And John didn’t miss the way that his brother said it; Joseph told everyone. An opinion had been overruled, and it wasn’t Joseph’s, and Jacob hadn’t forgotten.

Elliot’s mouth opened, rearing up to say something; the indignation had been lit in her gaze, furious. He would have been comforted that she was back to normal—no longer trembling, no longer somewhere far away from him—but he knew that Jacob had much less tolerant than Joseph did.

“I grabbed the cigarettes from the van,” John said tartly, before she could get going. “Smoke one.”

The unspoken words lingered. Chill the fuck out. Occupy your mouth with something else. Something that John didn’t think he’d say to her, out loud, unless he was feeling particularly confident that she wouldn’t strangle him to death in front of his brothers.

“Good thinking, honey ,” Elliot drawled. His eyes narrowed at her. She stuffed her hand into the backpack, searching until she found them. The blonde only looked mildly surprised through her rage that they were actually there.

When she rolled down the window and lit it, John relaxed a little and continued, “We’ve had a run-in with their leader. They’re armed and organized.”

Elliot stayed quiet. She settled back against the seat, deep into the corner of it, closest to the window, as though she couldn’t stand how close to them all she was, and took a long drag of the cigarette. The orange end of it burned until it was a sunspot in his vision.

John’s gaze drifted over her for a moment. Still, she wouldn’t look at him; she only spared him furtive glances through the corner of her eye, but never met his gaze, never going farther than his mouth.

“Ah.” Joseph’s gaze remained fixed on the road, his voice interrupting John’s thoughts. “So there’s now one more breed of locusts in our garden, it seems. Easy enough to exterminate, I think.”

“And how, pray tell,” Elliot asked, her voice sly, “do you plan to get rid of a new breed when you can’t even get rid of the old one?”

Jacob’s fingers tightened and flexed on the steering wheel. John could see a small smile tick the corner of Joseph’s mouth.

“If you get one flat foot on the devil’s wing,” Joseph replied, “you can get him to do just about anything you want.”

#far cry 5 #john seed/deputy #john seed/ofc #fc5 #my writing #fic: ancient names #ch: elliot honeysett #ch: john seed #but WHERE IS BOOMER #I SAY #THE AUTHOR #also like 2 instances very close together of john looking at elliot and joseph wanting to kill each other but ignoring him at the same time #and going #*hmmmmmm*#*don't like that*#so you know #idk what's even going on anymore i'm just in this wild ride with yall

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spine-buster · 5 years

Text

Alone, Together | Chapter 35 | Morgan Rielly

A/N: I just...someone call the Pope.

“First class again?” Bee asked as she looked down at the boarding pass that had just printed out from the kiosk at Toronto’s Pearson International Airport. She readjusted the Louis Vuitton tote bag on her shoulder – the same one that Lucy convinced her to buy all those months ago – and looked up at Morgan quickly.

“Did you expect anything less from me?” Morgan asked, looking down at her. “I mean…really.”

Bee snorted as she took a closer look at the boarding pass in her hand, wondering if she got a window seat again or if she was in an aisle cubby. As she looked at her seat number, a peculiar word caught her eye. “Uh oh.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I think it printed out the wrong boarding pass for us. We might have to go back up to that lady who took our luggage.”

“What do you mean?” Morgan said, his tone not phased at all by the apparent error. Morgan flew all the time – this was probably a common error. Did private team jets still print boarding passes?

“It says the destination is Kelowna instead of Vancouver,” Bee said.

“That’s because the destination is Kelowna.”

For a moment, Bee couldn’t understand the words coming out of Morgan’s mouth. She looked at him like he had three heads, trying to decipher the words. “We…we’re going to Kelowna?” she asked. He nodded. “But…I thought we were going to Vancouver?”

“We are, silly. I’m surprising you with a trip to the Okanagan Valley first, then we’re going to Vancouver,” Morgan was smirking at her.

“The Okanagan Valley? You mean like B.C. wine country?”

“Precisely,” he leaned down to give her a quick kiss. “Who would I be if I didn’t surprise you with something. And don’t Morgan me.”

She sneered at him playfully. “I wasn’t going to.”

“Sure.”

“But you do…I mean…” she began, wondering if she should even say the words. “You do know we could be staying in a Motel 6 and I’d be happy.”

“Briony,” he said her name in a half-amused, half-warning tone. He leaned down to kiss her again before continuing. “What’d I say about this stuff.”

“I know, but--”

“We are going to have,” kiss, “a very good time,” kiss, “going on winery tours,” kiss, “and watching the sunset,” kiss, “over the Okanagan,” kiss, “and then we’re gonna take a roadtrip,” kiss, “to Vancouver,” kiss, “and watch the sunrise,” kiss, “over the Sunshine Coast,” kiss, “just like last time,” kiss.

Bee couldn’t help but smile at his words. She was also very conscious of the fact that he was kissing her multiple times in the middle of a busy airport. She didn’t used to be that person, but Morgan brought it out of her. She licked her lips and bit her bottom lip before looking up at him. “You’re too good to me,” she mumbled.

“You get what you deserve, Bumblebee,” he winked. “Now let’s go.”

***

When they touched down in Kelowna, they checked in at the Delta Grand Okanagan Resort on the waterfront and changed into workout gear. Morgan wanted to take Bee hiking up the mountain to see the views, and she was more than ready to comply, despite the fact that she knew she was out of shape and would probably have to stop several times along the way up the mountain. She knew the views would be worth it, and if she was a sucker for anything, it was views from mountaintops. Considering she had never been to Kelowna, she thought it the perfect introduction.

They began their hike at the base of Knox Mountain Park, following the trail diligently and making sure to stay on the designated path. There were a lot of hikers out and about due to the beautiful day outside, so there were many quick greetings and many dog pets as they made their way up. About half way up the hike, they happened upon a group of middle-aged people – Bee would say they were probably around Rocco and Clarette’s age – with four golden retrievers between them. Morgan was in absolute heaven. Everybody stopped so the dogs could be pet, and one of the men eventually recognized Morgan, so everyone posed for a group photo. Bee was pulled into it for some reason. The man’s wife was so excited that she pulled Bee in. It was all very nice, but unnecessary for her to be there. She could have at least taken the photo.

When they got to the top of the mountain about twenty minutes later, Bee gasped. There, before her eyes, was Okanagan Lake and the city of Kelowna spread out across the landscape. Though she was out of breath, probably red, and definitely sweating, she couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed at the sight before her. The vast expanse before her was almost too much to handle; too beautiful to forget. She focused hard, and long, creating a mental image in her head of the view so that she’d never forget it. She didn’t want this memory to disappear.

It was only when she felt Morgan’s arm wrap around her waist that her trance sort of ended – even then, she couldn’t look at him, too transfixed on finding every little detail to remember. The colour of the trees. The sparkle of the water. The deep blue of the sky. “It’s beautiful, eh?” he asked softly.

“Like…it’s not fair,” she said, causing Morgan to giggle slightly. “I know I said this on the boat that morning in January but you’re so lucky that you got to grow up here. Like, incredibly lucky.”

“I know, Bumblebee. That’s why I want to bring you here all the time,” he admitted. “I want you to love it as much as I do.”

She couldn��t help but smile as she finally looked up at him. “I already do.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Just by virtue of the fact that you grew up here. Never mind the views and the scenery and the people – they’re extra. I love it because you love it. Because it’s your home.”

Morgan leaned down to kiss her, not caring about how many people were around possibly watching. Sometimes, Bee had the simplest reasons for things, and for a guy who got stuck in his head too much and came up with overly complicated explanations for things some of the time, it was that simplicity that he needed. I love it because it’s your home. It was the simplest sentiment but one that brought out the best in Bee. She didn’t need anything besides the ground beneath her feet and her favourite people by her side. Everything else was extra. “I love you, you know that?” he whispered against her lips.

“You do?”

He pinched her butt playfully. “Smart ass.”

“Yeah, but you love my ass.”

“You’re lucky I do.”

***

So you’re finally working out. About fucking time, fat ass.

Surprised you’re not off fucking Fred or Tyler for your 15 minutes of fame. But then again, who’d want to fuck someone as desperate as you?

Making Morgan spend money on you again…typical. Bleeding him dry. If you were smart you’d be with Auston bc he has way more money.

All the Toronto girls are talking about you behind your back. I hope you know that. You’re still the biggest social climber ever. You think you’re hot shit but you’re not. And just because your new BFF is Aryne, it doesn’t mean a thing. Everybody can see right through you. When Aryne and Morgan dump you, it’s over for you. You’re already so irrelevant.

Why do u think u can wear tights like that omg u look like a complete whale!

Go drown urself in that lake bitch

“Is everything okay?” Morgan asked as he crawled into bed beside Bee, snuggling up to her automatically as she lay in bed with a lace camisole pyjama set. Bee had sent Angie a quick text to see how Bruce was doing, and Angie was supposed to have sent a video of Bruce back to them. She and Mason were cat and house sitting the apartment while they were away.

“It’s fine,” she sighed. “Just reading the latest messages from my fan club.”

“Fan club?” Morgan asked. When she gave him her phone and he saw the familiar layout of Instagram, he knew immediately what she was talking about and furrowed his brows.

Ur soooooooo desperate for attention

U look like a cheap hooker…like not even an escort. Ur so trash!!!!!

You should learn a thing or two from Lucy and her yoga business. AKA stop leeching off your boyfriend!!!!! You think you’re better than everyone else when you’re not. SAD!

Morgan is stupid to be with you. I don’t understand what he sees in trash like you.

“Bumblebee…you don’t…I can’t…” he couldn’t find the right words to say as he shook his head. “I’ve gotta talk to Steve again…”

“He’s not coming back from Europe for you, Morgan.”

“Briony, you shouldn’t have to be dealing with this,” he said sternly, unable to joke about this like she was. “I know how much this affects you, baby. And it’s not fair. It’s not fair that they can say whatever they want to you and you have to refrain from saying anything back. That you can’t…that you…” he trailed off.

“That I what?” she asked. She was practically able to see the gears shifting in his head.

“You can’t say anything about it…but what if I did?”

“NO,” she half-screamed, grabbing her phone out of his hand quickly before his thoughts got the best of him. She sat up in the bed and he followed her, sitting up too. “Morgan Frederick Rielly, NO. Don’t you dare. Don’t you – that would make it worse, Morgan. That’s the stupidest idea you’ve ever come up with. Could you imagine the media coverage on that? Kyle would blow a gasket, let alone Steve. Shanny might have a stroke.”

“But I want to keep you safe, Bumblebee. I need to keep you safe,” he tried to reason with her.

“Not at the expense of your good reputation with the team and in Toronto and definitely not at the expense of your career,” she said sternly. “Morgan Frederick Rielly, don’t you even think about it.”

“But Briony--”

“Don’t.”

“I don’t understand how you can handle all this. It’s all my fault,” he said.

“It is most definitely not your fault.”

“I feel guilty every day, every fucking time I have to read one of those fucking messages or see you torn up about it. Canada Day wrecked me. To see you like that…Briony, I can’t. How can you be so…how can you handle it? How aren’t you scared ab--”

“Shhhhh…” she said quietly, bringing her finger up to his lips to quiet him. “Because my love for you is greater than my fear of that.”

Morgan took a moment to internalize her words. His chest was heaving slightly, he was a bit agitated, and his mind was set on doing something about it himself if he had to, but all he had to hear was her voice, her smooth, calming voice, and all those feelings washed away. “You…”

“My love for you is greater than my fear of that, or them, or anything they say to me,” she repeated, cradling his face in her hands as she kissed him. “You need to start realizing that. They can say whatever they want, and sometimes it might hurt me, and I might cry about it a little bit, but I’m stronger than that and I’ve been through way worse.”

Morgan sighed heavily. “Bumblebee…”

“Shhhhh…” she shushed him again, her finger on his lips being replaced by her own lips. “They’re all jealous. That’s all it is. Jealously. Jealous that you’re mine and jealous that we’re building a life together. Jealous that I get this giant hunk of man all to myself,” she whispered, kissing him again. “Now…if you don’t mind, I’d like to show this giant hunk of man how grateful I am for him and everything he does.”

“B-Bumblebee…” he mumbled out before she kissed him again.

“Quiet, Mr. Rielly.”

Morgan did as he was told. He began kissing her back, softly at first, then with a fervour he reserved only for her, that only she could bring out of him. And when she began kissing along his jawline, climbing on top of his body simultaneously and rubbing her core on his thigh, all his thoughts dissipated completely, replaced with a hunger that he felt only for her. He was insatiable for her. He could never get enough of her. He wanted her always, all the time, constantly, incessantly, persistently. His body ached for hers. It was crazy, he thought, how well they fit together. How their bodies responded to one another instinctually. He wouldn’t be able to find this with anyone else – couldn’t find this with anybody else.

Her took off her lace camisole easily. With her breasts now exposed he took the opportunity to lean forward and take a nipple in her mouth, sucking and teasing and biting down gently. She threw her head back, her long hair cascading down her back, and cradled his head in her hands before tugging on the tufts of his hair gently. She took his shirt off easily. Over it went, across the room, and she moved down his body to slip his boxers off slowly.

“Briony…” he managed to mumble out as she stayed there, grabbing his already hard cock in her hands.

“Shhhh,” she shushed him for the umpteenth time that night. She began stroking it and watched as he gulped. “I got you, baby.”

“I d…I don’t want to cum in your mouth,” he mumbled. “Don’t – when I say--”

“Mmkay,” she said quickly, licking the tip of his cock. “Just say the words,” she said in an almost playful tone before dipping down and taking him in her mouth.

He gathered some of her hair in his hand to get it out of her face; he didn’t want his view to be obstructed as she bobbed up and down, his cock disappearing inside her mouth further and further until he felt the head of his cock touch the back of her throat. He closed his eyes momentarily, relishing in the feeling. “Fuck, baby,” he sighed out.

Bee let out a mischievous giggle, her fingernails digging lightly into his thigh. “You like that, don’t you?” she asked as she scratched down slowly. Morgan nodded his head desperately. “You love it when I suck your cock.”

“Y-Yes,” he stuttered out. “Fuuuck Briony, I love it when my cock is down your throat.” He felt her dip down again, her tongue swirling around the tip, licking the pre-cum greedily. “You better start touching yourself,” he told her.

He watched as she slipped a hand down her body and underneath her shorts, wiggling out of them with ease. By now, he was rock hard, and when Bee looked up at him with her big green eyes before she took him in her mouth all the way, hitting the back of her throat again, his hips buckled and he let out a loud groan. She gagged slightly, his movements shoving his cock deeper into her throat, but when he looked at her again, she was already looking at him, a slight smile in her eyes that drove him fucking crazy. “Briony…p-p-please--”

She ignored him, looking away and focusing on her movements instead, and the feeling of his hand tugging at her hair slightly so he could get a better look at her. His grunts and movements gave her the confidence to keep going, to take risks and be as daring as she could. It wasn’t long, though, before Morgan’s breath became heavier, his chest rising and falling with every gasp her took. “B-Briony…”

She moaned on his cock in response, taking him to the back of her throat one more time before her mouth left his cock with a large pop. “I want more of your cock, baby. Just cu--”

“N-No,” he stuttered out.

“Babyyyyy,” she mewled, kissing the tip.

“No. I want…I…get up here,” he huffed out.

“Ba--” she tried again, but Morgan wasn’t having any of it. His hand left her hair as he leaned forward, pulling her up and flipping her onto her back on the bed, his large body immediately over hers as he grabbed at her thighs and wrapped her legs around him. He didn’t wait – there was no time to wait – and entered her quickly, the feeling of her warm walls around his cock causing him to moan out again.

“Holy fuck Mo,” she gasped out, her legs wrapped tightly around his torso so he stayed buried deep inside of her, not allowing him to move just yet. “Fuck baby.”

“Who gets too fill you up, Briony?”

“You, baby.”

“Who?”

“You, Mr. Rielly. Only you get to fill me up,” she pulled his head down to kiss him passionately, lips and tongues everywhere.

Morgan bit down on her bottom lip, dragging it away with him as he straightened out his back and unwrapped her legs from his body. He brought them both together, keeping them over his shoulder as he looked down at her, her body flush with desire. “You okay?” he asked. She nodded her head quickly. “You want my cock buried deep inside of you?”

“Yes Mr. Rielly,” she nodded her head.

He began moving, slowly at first, her breasts bouncing along every time he thrust into her. He would watch her breasts bouncing like that all night if he could. He progressively kept getting rougher and rougher until he was pounding into her, her moans and cries fuel for him to give her more. “You like it when I fuck you like this?”

“Y-Yes,” it was her turn to stutter out. “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

He could feel the heat inside of him growing. He grabbed at her legs that were over his shoulder and pushed them forward, into her body, changing the angle so he could go even deeper. She let out a string of expletives at the new feeling, her cries out music to his ears. “S’deep babe,” she could barely get the words out.

“You like that?”

“Yes Mr. Rielly. Yes. I love it when you fuck my pussy hard like that.”

“Are you gonna make that pretty pussy cum for me, Briony?”

She could only nod her head as he continued to pound into her, fast and rough and wild, until he felt her walls clench around him and heard her scream out his name over and over again. At the sound of his name escaping her lips so desperately and full of want, he exploded inside of her, leaning further into her so the angle was just right. Bee huffed, trying to catch her breath.

“Stay right there,” Morgan mumbled quickly.

“W…What?” she asked not understanding why he’d say such a thing. Where the fuck was she going to go?

It didn’t take long for her to find out. Two of his fingers slipped into her pussy quickly, causing her to gasp out, and they began moving quickly in and out of her, not allowing her to catch her breath or settle down from her first orgasm. “Mo...” she gasped out, but instead of answering her he licked his way down her body. He was being gentle but rough with his fingers, and she squirmed as she was pinned beneath him. “Mo Mo Mo Mo Mo…” she kept repeating his name as he finally attached his mouth to her clit, lapping and sucking like he was drinking a thick milkshake. “Mo, fuck, please.”

“All mine,” he mumbled against her pussy. “All fucking mine.”

“All yours Mr. Rielly. All yours,” she breathed out, grabbing hold of his hair. Her body gyrated at the sensation and it was too much; in no time, she was cumming again, the sound of her wetness and Morgan’s fingers still moving in and out of her just amplifying it all. He lapped up every last bit before moving back up, squishing her beneath his body as he kissed her.

“I love you Briony,” he mumbled against her lips.

She could taste her juices on his lips as she continued to kiss him. “I love you too baby. So much.”

***

“Wow, Ms. McTavish, you’re a natural!” Chef Michael smiled as Bee began basting the chicken breast cooking in the pan. The chef looked over to Morgan, who had given up a long time ago and chose instead to just watch – Bee had no problem cooking his chicken breast too. “You’re a lucky guy, eh?”

“The luckiest,” Morgan smiled as he watched Bee concentrating on the basting.

“Does she cook a lot at home?”

Morgan nodded his head. “My specialty is grilled cheese and breakfast for dinner. She does everything else.”

Chef Michael focused his attention back to Bee. “Alright Ms. McTavish, we need to let it simmer now. Let’s focus on those broccolini sautéing with the garlic. Think we should add more?”

“You can never have too much garlic.”

Chef Michael looked over at Morgan again. “My kinda girl!”

“I learned some of my cooking skills from an Italian,” Bee continued, stirring up the broccolini. “If a recipe called for two garlic cloves he’d put five.”

“Who are your friends? Your family? I need to meet these people!” Chef Michael exclaimed, so enthusiastic about everything. “Let’s mince some more garlic in there.”

When all was said and done, Bee had perfectly prepared two plates of creamy chicken in a white wine sauce, roasted Japanese sweet potatoes, and sautéed garlic broccolini. It smelled heavenly, and Morgan could tell she was so proud of herself as she fixed her plate with the last of the brocollini, Chef Michael instructing her on how to present everything beautifully. When she finished, he presented them with a bottle of white wine from the winery to have with their meal, uncorking it and pouring it for them.

“You two can bring your dinners out onto the patio with you. Ray will come to clean up the pans and dishes while you eat,” he said.

Morgan nodded but Bee furrowed her brows. “Oh, there’s no need for someone to clean up. We can just do that after.”

Chef Michael paused his movements momentarily. “No no Ms. McTavish, it’s fine. Ray will be in any second with the busser to take everything away.”

“I insist--”

“No ma’am, it’s fine,” Chef Michael stressed. “It’s part of the service. You can just enjoy your meal on the patio. You worked hard on it.”

“Bumblebee,” Morgan said gently. “It’s alright. We can go.”

She looked between Morgan and Chef Michael hesitantly before giving in. “Okay. Um, thank you,” she said, more awkwardly than she would have liked. “Are you positive? Because I can just wash everything after dinner. It’s no big deal.”

Chef Michael let out a laugh. “Go enjoy your meal Ms. McTavish. And have a good night.”

Bee followed Morgan out onto the patio with her plate and wine glass, his own already on the table. She looked back into the room as Morgan closed the sliding door, watching as Chef Michael gathered all the dirty cutlery and utensils and put them all in the sink. She looked to Morgan, who had pulled out her chair for her. “Does that usually happen?” she asked.

“Does what usually happen?”

“People cleaning up after you in these fancy shmancy places,” she clarified, setting her plate and wine down on the table.

“If you request for butler service, yes. But we didn’t get that,” Morgan said, knowing that would be her next question; that she would give him one of her looks if he did. “I think it’s just a part of the service they offer with the chef. I think they figure you’d want to eat right after instead of clean up.”

“It’s a bit…I mean, I can clean up after myself.”

“Not everybody is responsible and sensible like you,” he leaned his head down to kiss her quickly. “Now, let’s eat, shall we? I want to have a romantic dinner with my girlfriend.”

Romantic it was. Morgan couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. The scenery spread out before them was beautiful – just like everything else was in British Columbia – but he could only transfix his eyes on her, watching her as she ate and listening to anything she began talking about – how it was supposed to get cool that night, how Angie had sent her a new video of Bruce with the zoomies, how Mark had texted her that they had made record profits the past month for a particular client of theirs. If her voice were the only thing he heard for the rest of his life, he’d still die a happy man.

When they finished their meal, Bee stacked their plates on top of one another. She brought them into the villa, setting them in the sink before popping her head out the sliding door. “Is there a way you can call so they can come get these plates and not bother us for the rest of the night?” she asked. “I don’t want anyone coming back in. I just want to watch the sunset with you.”

“Yeah, of course,” Morgan nodded his head, getting up from his seat. “I’ll call.”

“Good. I’m going to the washroom,” she said, disappearing into the bedroom.

After some time, Ray was back to collect their plates and ask if they wanted anything else taken care of the night. Morgan declined, thanking him, and let him go for the night, making sure to lock the door behind him as Ray left. He found it a bit peculiar that Bee was still in the washroom. He hoped the food didn’t get to her; there’d be some strongly worded complaints if it did.

“Bumblebee? You alright in there?” he called out. He glanced at the screen door quickly to see the sunset in full bloom.

“I’m okay,” she said. “Is Ray gone?”

“Ray’s gone,” Morgan confirmed. “You feeling okay, Bumblebee?”

“I’m feeling fine,” she responded, but he could tell her voice was a little off. “Can you…um…can you make sure the door is locked?”

“Already is.”

“Okay. Can you come into the bedroom?”

Morgan furrowed his brows. “Of course,” he said. “Are you sure you’re okay, Bumblebee?”

“I’m fine,” she confirmed, still calling out from the closed washroom. “Just…you know…get comfy. Change into your pyjamas. I’ll be out soon and we’ll go out and watch the sunset.”

Morgan did as she said, stripping himself down and changing into his pyjama bottoms. He sat in the chair, folding the jeans he had been wearing, before the light in the bedroom mysteriously turned off. He looked up, only the light from the sunset peeking through the window. “Bumblebee?” he saw her stand outside the doorway to the washroom.

“Hey.”

“What’re you doing?”

“Good thing you’re already sitting in the chair. Topless, even,” there was a slight laugh in her voice, not answering his question. She turned on the lamp, illuminating the room romantically. He noticed she was wearing a robe. She never wore a robe at home.

“What’s this?” he asked, his eyes wide as he noticed it was a silk robe, lace trim dangling from the ends of sleeves.

Bee smiled shyly. “Just a little something.”

“Just a little something, huh?” Morgan gave her an up-down, throwing his jeans onto the floor beside him.

“Mhm,” she nodded her head, playing with the tassels that tied the robe together. “You know…I bet all that cooking must have taken a lot out of you,” she winked.

Morgan couldn’t help but giggle slightly. “Oh, it did. I am spent.”

“Well then. Just sit back and let me give you a show,” she smiled devilishly.

“A show?” Morgan asked. Bee nodded her head slightly. “You…you planned something?”

“Is that okay?”

Morgan couldn’t help but let out a light laugh. His body already felt on fire. She had planned something – with that robe on, and whatever else was underneath it – and was asking if it was okay? “Of course baby,” he said softly. “Let me see. Let me see what you’ve planned.”

Standing far away from him, she bent over and leaned forward, placing a quick kiss on his lips. “I trust you.”

“And I trust you. And I love you.”

“Good to know. Because by the end of this I have every intention of you fucking me like you don’t.”

Morgan’s pupils dilated. He gulped nervously. He watched as Bee straightened herself out and took a few steps back, playing again with the tassels on the robe before she started to sway her hips slowly back and forth. She worked on untying the tassels slowly, achingly so, and Morgan could feel himself getting hard with each passing hip sway. Eventually, she pulled, untying the bow and letting it fall, the robe becoming looser. A hint of pink lace peeked its way out of the robe.

“Briony…” Morgan barely made out her name.

“Yeah baby?” she asked in an innocent voice, her fingertips gliding along the edge of the fabric near her chest.

“What…what did you--”

“Shhhh baby,” she cooed, approaching him slowly, seductively. “What did I tell you?”

“But baby--” he tried reaching out to grab the fabric of the robe.

She smacked his hand away quickly. He looked at her in the eye, shocked. “Don’t touch me,” she ordered. “Don’t touch me unless I tell you. Just watch.”

She saw his chest rise and fall dramatically. “Briony--” he tried to grab at her again.

“Don’t. Touch. Me,” she stressed, smacking his hand away once more. “Unless you want me to stop. Then you’ll have to take care of that,” she eyed down to the growing bulge in his pants, “all alone.”

There was a fire in her eyes and Morgan knew she meant it. This was completely new – he was completely blind-sided – but he wasn’t exactly complaining. He loved seeing this sort of confidence from Bee. He thought it partly cute, partly evil that she had planned this – masterminded it from the beginning. He nodded his head, agreeing with her. He couldn’t formulate a word. There was no point.

She took a couple of small steps back – far enough so Morgan couldn’t reach out, and far enough so he could get a full body view – and started to pull the robe down her shoulders slowly, letting it fall to the floor dramatically revealing, inch by inch, the blush pink floral lace bralette and garter set, complete with a matching pair of pantyhose.

“Oh my fucking God,” Morgan mumbled in disbelief.

A smile adorned Bee’s face. “Do you like, Mr. Rielly?”

Morgan nodded, beginning to feel an uncomfortable strain in his pants. “Yes,” he nodded his head almost desperately. “Yes. Yes. I love it,” he was a gibbering mess.

“D’you like the colour?”

“Yes.”

“And the lace?”

“Yes.”

“What about the garter? And the pantyhose?”

“I love it all,” the desperation was evident in his voice. “I love it all. Every fucking piece of it.”

“Good,” she bit her bottom lip, running her fingers along the lace of the thong that hung on her hips. She took a step towards him. “So if I came closer…” another step, “and closer,” another step, “and closer,” one final step, “you’d be able to keep your hands to yourself?”

Morgan huffed out a breath. “I don’t…”

“If I put my hand on your chest…” she moved to do exactly that, walking to his side. His head followed her as far as it could until she was behind him. “If my breath grazed the back of your neck…” she moved, again, to do exactly that as she stood behind him, her hand still on his chest as she gave the skin on his neck a quick kiss. She took a few steps so she was standing in front of him again, turning away so her back was towards him, her ass in full view. “If I sat in your lap, would you be able to keep your hands to yourself?”

She didn’t give him the chance to answer. She lowered herself onto his lap, swaying her hips back and forth for good measure. She heard Morgan grunt as she did so, absolutely fucking loving that she was getting such a reaction out of him. She felt powerful. Sexy. Sensual. She could feel the erection already in his pants and it made her the most confident she’d ever been.

“Fucking hell, Briony,” Morgan whispered. Like clockwork, it didn’t take long for her to feel his hand on her ass, even if it was just a quick caress.

She rose up quickly and slapped his hand away for a third time. He whined out in protest as she walked away from him, flipping her hair over her shoulder to look at him. “No. Touching.”

“But Briony--”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“NO! No no no,” he shook his head. “Please God no.”

“No more touching. Do you understand me?” she said, her voice seductive but stern. “No. More. Touching.”

“I won’t. I won’t.”

“Promise me,” she demanded.

“I promise. I promise you,” he was desperate, so desperate. “I swear to you, I won’t touch you. Fuck Briony, fuuuuck, I w…I won’t touch you. Not unless you tell me. Just get back here.”

“Not until you beg.”

Morgan whined out again. “Briony. Briony please.”

“Beg.”

Morgan could swear there were tears forming in his eyes. “Please Briony, I promise. I’m begging you. Come back here so I can look at you. Please. Please.”

Briony smiled, biting down on her bottom lip again. “If you touch me without my permission again it’s over. Keep your hands to yourself.”

Morgan nodded his head. “I will. I’ll keep my hands to myself, I promise. Now please. Please come back here.”

Bee sauntered over to him, bending over so her breasts, covered by the delicate lace, were right in his face. She leaned forward so the material gently grazed against his nose and lips. “Lace is your favourite, isn’t it?” she asked, already knowing the answer. Morgan nodded his head. “You always go crazy for me in lace.”

“You look perfect in it,” his voice was low. “You make it look perfect. Every time.”

She straightened out briefly so she could turn around again, her ass facing him as she sat down on his lap. “You love spanking me too, don’t you.”

She heard his sharp intake of breath. “Y-Yes,” he stuttered out.

She looked over to see his hands gripping the armrests of the chair, his knuckles almost completely white. Excellent. “Especially when I’ve been a good girl?”

“I…y…yes,” he huffed out, stuttering again. She watched as his hands shook through the grip he had on the armrests.

“Am I being a good girl right now?” she asked, grinding down against him gently.

“I’d reckon you’re being a bad girl right now.”

Bee let out a giggle, looking at him over her shoulder. “Is that so?”

“You’re being a very bad girl teasing me like this,” he reasoned.

“Whoops,” she rolled her eyes playfully at his answer. “Sorry not sorry.”

“Briony, please.”

“Please what?”

“I need to touch you,” he begged.

“I don’t think you’ve earned that yet.”

“Wh – I – please,” he continued to beg. “You don’t understand, Briony.”

“Not yet,” she shook her head. She stood up again to face him, placing her hands on his chest. His eyes were pleading with her, but she didn’t budge. “What do you think of the garter and pantyhose?” she asked again, just to torture him.

“I love it. I love it all,” he said. “It looks so, so sexy. It’s driving me fucking crazy.”

Her hands made their way down his chest and over his bulge, settling on his knees as she shifted her weight from one leg to another again and again before flipping her hair in front of him dramatically. She promised him she’d give him a show, so she was going to give him a show. She incorporated her movements into pulling his pants off of him, revealing how rock hard he was. After scratching her nails up and down his thighs, she settled them on his knees once more before spreading his legs open dramatically. Morgan looked at her wide-eyed before she squatted down between his legs, her hips swaying from side to side.

“Jesus fucking Christ Briony,” his voice was frantic as she spun around on her tiptoes, still squatted, before swaying her hips back up into his face. “Briony.”

“You like that?” she ignored his pleading tone, knowing all he wanted was to touch her.

“Yes. Please Briony, can I t--”

“What about when I do this,” she said, spinning around to face him before climbing on to his lap. She flipped her hair in his face again, and began to grind down. His hands left the armrest dramatically, ready to grab her, but with every ounce of will he had left in – which wasn’t much – he balled his hands into fists and kept them away from her. She shoved her chest into his face, her hands on his shoulders and nails digging into his skin.

“Briony – you fucking – you don’t – you can’t--” he muttered out.

“You want to fuck me with this on, don’t you?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“You don’t want me to take it off?”

“No. Keep it on. Keep it all on. I’m gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to fucking walk tomorrow,” he told her as she grinded down on him again, his cock rubbing up against the fabric of her thong.

She smiled. “That’s what I like to hear, Mr. Rielly.”

“Can I touch you? Please?”

“No.”

“Briiiiiiony.”

“Not. Yet,” she said, arching her back. “Tell me something Morgan,” she began. He gave her cut eye. Her right hand slipped down between their bodies to her hot core. “Do you like it when I touch myself?”

Morgan huffed. “I like it when I touch you better.”

“Why?”

“Because I know how to make you feel good,” he said. “Because I like making you feel good.”

“And when you get to touch me, what are you going to do to me?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

She smiled. She grabbed his cock without warning and began to stroke it teasingly. She felt his hips buckle at her touch and knew she had teased and agonized him long enough. She grinded down on his lap one last time, for good measure, feeling just how hard his cock was. “Morgan?” she whispered in his ear.

“Yes Briony?”

“Make me be your good girl. Fuck me so hard I won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

Morgan was like a man possessed. In what felt like less than a second he grabbed her, picked her up, and threw her on the bed. He climbed onto the bed after her and flipped her over so she was flat onto her stomach, her legs spread apart for him but her ass slightly raised. She arched her neck to look behind her and saw him hovering over her. “You think you can play games like that with me and get away with it?” he asked her, his voice low and coarse and his hands went to the small of her back, pressing down so she stayed laying flat on the bed.

“You liked it, didn’t you Mr. Rielly?” she asked, her voice playfully innocent in tone. “You kept telling me how much you liked it. You begged to keep me close.”

He leaned forward so he could whisper in her ear. “Now I’m gonna make you beg,” he said, watching as her lips curved into a smile.

“Like your good girl?”

“Like my good girl,” he nodded his head. “I want to hear you scream my name.”

“Yes Mr. Rielly.”

“You can’t cum until I say so. Understood?”

“Yes Mr. Rielly,” she nodded her head, feeling his body loom over hers. He was still holding her down so she could barely move. “Mr. Rielly, if I be a good girl will you spank me?”

Morgan laughed mischievously. “We’ll see about that. Maybe if you ask nicely,” he said.

Without warning, he entered her hard and quick, unable to wait any longer. Bee cried out automatically at the feeling – everything from the speed, to the size of his cock, to his holding her down, to the angle that he entered her, made him go so deep that she swore she could already see stars. He didn’t start slow either; he was desperate and needy and didn’t have time for any of that, so he rocked into her hard and fast. She screamed out in pleasure over and over again, savouring the feeling. He was being a bit rougher with her than normal, but she loved every second of it. She wanted it. She had asked for it, and he had complied. He was doing exactly what she wanted him to do, and they had the trust in each other to do this.

The way he was holding her lower back down, keeping her in place, meant the angle was deep – and with the force he kept pounding into her with, she knew she wouldn’t be able to last long. But just as he complied – as best he could, he did slip up twice – to her rule of ‘no touching’, she knew she would have to comply to his rules now too. “Mr. Rielly,” she said between her screams and moans, “Mr. Rielly it’s so deep.”

“You like it when it’s deep like that, huh?” he asked.

“Your cock is so big and it always goes so deep,” she said, knowing it would stroke his ego. “Can you spank me, please?”

She heard Morgan huff out a laugh, barely missing a beat as he continued to fuck her. “No.”

“But Mr. Rielly--”

“No.”

“Please Mr. Rielly, I want to be spanked so bad.”

“I don’t think you’ve earned that yet,” he threw her own words back at her. She almost regretted the decision to use that language when she was teasing him – almost. But there was no way she could ever regret anything that brought her so much pleasure. “You have to beg, remember?”

Morgan could hear her whimper. “Pleeeease Mr. Rielly. Please spank me.”

She felt one of his hands leave the grip he had on her lower back and she prepared herself. Instead, she felt him grab her hair and tug her towards him, so her back was flush against his chest momentarily. His hand snaked around and went to her clit, and he bit down on the skin of her neck before moving up to her ear. “Beg.”

“Please Mr. Rielly,” she was practically on the verge of tears. “Please please please, I’m begging you to spank me.”

“If I spank you are you gonna cum?”

“No,” she answered automatically, shaking her head slightly. “Not until you tell me to.”

He smiled, a throaty laugh escaping him. “That’s right. That’s my good girl,” he cooed, pushing her back down so she was flush against the bed again. With one hand on her lower back holding her down, the other hand spanked her ass. She let out a cry of pleasure, and with another spank, another cry.

“Harder,” she mewled out

“Harder?”

“Fuck me harder, Mr. Rielly. Spank me harder.”

Her spanked her again, red marks already appearing on her ass from before. He rubbed the area gently before spanking it one more time. “You want to cum, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she said quickly, not bothering to hide how close she was. “I want to cum so bad.”

“If I spank you again will you cum?” he asked. Bee nodded her head. “Then no.”

“No, please,” Bee cried out. “I can’t – I won’t--”

“Are you going to take more like a good girl?” he practically growled out, holding her down again with both hands now.

Bee didn’t answer automatically this time. She was trying to regain composure, trying to regain whatever semblance of sanity she had left in her body. “Y-Yes…” she whispered, barely audible.

“Are you going to take more like a good girl?” Morgan asked, louder to insinuate how loud he wanted her to be.

“Yes,” she said aloud.

“Like my good girl?”

“Yes!” she screamed out. “Like your good girl. Always your good girl, Mr. Rielly.”

Morgan continued pounding into her for a while, even harder than before. Bee’s cries became louder, as did the sound of cock throbbing in and out of her hot core. With the prelude leading up to this, the dirty talk, the sound of Bee’s moans and cries, and the fact that he probably could have cum while sitting in that God forsaken chair if Bee had grinded down on him just one more time, he was surprised to have lasted this long anyway. He could feel his body getting flushed and hot and knew he was close.

“Are you ready for my cum, Briony?” he asked.

“Yes, Mr. Rielly,” her voice was coarse from all the noise she was making. “I’m always ready for your cum. Always.”

He spanked her again a few more times for good measure, getting some more desperate cries out of her, before tugging her hair one last time to bring her back against his chest. “You’ve been such a good girl,” he cooed as he gave her a sloppy kiss.

“I love it when it’s like this,” she managed to get out through hooded eyes and desperate whispers. “I love it when I’m your good girl. When you take me from behind. When you fuck me like I’ve never been fucked before.”

“You like me fucking you hard and fast?”

She nodded her head. “I love it so much Mr. Rielly.”

He snaked a hand around her body and began rubbing circles on her clit. “You ready to cum, Briony?”

“Yes. Fuck, yes. Please.”

“When I spank you I want you to cum,” he instructed her. “And I don’t want you to stop. Understood?”

“Yes. Yes yes yes yes,” she said in hushed whispers.

Bee waited a few moments, and when she didn’t feel the hard smack on her ass she whined. She waited for another few moments – and still nothing. She was desperate. She was going to kill him. She was going to cum any second. “Mr. Ri--”

Smack!

She cried out, loud, her orgasm pulsating through her like a tidal wave, her entire body shaking and her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Morgan continued to pound in and out of her with his throbbing cock, while his hand continued to rub at her clit, giving her orgasm after orgasm, over stimulating her just how she liked it. After what felt like a million of them – a million different orgasms, a million different cries, a million different moans and desperate shouts of his name – she finally, finally, felt his hot cum pour into her, filling her up as his cock twitched and throbbed inside of her. She felt his body shake against hers, his own moans and desperate calls out of her name filling the air as they rode out their orgasms together, clinging on to one another.

Bee swore she could still feel an orgasm ride through her entire body as he pulled out, the both of them collapsing on the bed trying to catch their breath. Her core was still so hot and sensitive as she curled up in Morgan’s arms, both their bodies hot and glistening with sweat. She was surprised the lingerie made it through – that Morgan didn’t rip it off half way through or take it off with his teeth or something. She was glad it got this reaction out of him.

“Bumblebee…” she heard Morgan’s voice, barely above a whisper. “I wouldn’t have done that with anybody else but you.”

She smiled, curling further into his body. “I wouldn’t have done that with anybody else either,” she responded, reaching down below their bodies to grab hold of his cock. “Thank you for indulging me. For giving me exactly what I wanted.”

“I love you so much,” he mumbled, feeling her put his softening cock at her core again, the heat still so comforting. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

***

Bee was a bit sad to leave Kelowna and the Okanagan area, after having experienced its beauty, great weather, and lovely people, but she had to remember she had Connor, Andy, and Shirley Rielly waiting for her on the other side, eagerly anticipating her presence in Vancouver for the second time that year. Earlier that morning, she and Morgan had checked out of Hester Creek Winery, where they had been staying for the past three nights, and loaded everything into their rental car for their five hour road trip to Vancouver. After a last minute stock up of the wine from the winery, and a very last minute stop at Tim Horton’s for some coffee and snacks to sustain themselves (like good Canadians) they were on their way, the GPS system directing them where to go.

“You tell me anytime you want to stop to take pictures,” Morgan said as they took the on-ramp onto the highway. “It’s going to be a pretty scenic route. Especially when we drive through the provincial park.”

“I will,” Bee smiled, stuffing a Timbit into her mouth before feeing Morgan one. “I’ll try not to stop too much. I don’t want this trip to take eight hours.”

“Nuh uh,” Morgan shook his head. “You just tell me whenever you want to stop. We can take ten hours. It doesn’t matter.”

“Your parents are expecting us for dinner.”

“We’ll call them and tell them there’s traffic,” he said, his mouth still full with the Timbit. He winked at Bee as she gave him one of her looks.

Morgan reached over the console and grabbed her thigh, exposed thanks to the pretty sundress she was wearing, squeezing it gently as the road opened before them. It was there for a while, as they continued to drive on the open road, occasionally squeezing and massaging her skin before it crept higher and higher, getting dangerously close to her core.

“Keep your eyes on the road, you perv,” Bee placed her hand above Morgan’s to stop it from going any higher. If it did, she knew he’d probably swerve off the road.

“I am keeping my eyes on the road,” he reasoned. “My mind, on the other hand, isn’t on the road.”

Bee snorted, shaking her head playfully. “You want to fuck me in this rental car, don’t you?”

“Maybe.”

She couldn’t help but snort. At least he was being honest. “Why’re you so horny all the time?” she giggled.

“You make me.”

“If you keep it up we’re gonna end up having ten kids.”

There was a silence between the two. It wasn’t awkward, or charged, or because either was tongue-tied and didn’t know what to say. It was just…a silence. A comfortable silence, the road of the car on the road filling the void, until Morgan spoke first. “We’re not having ten kids.”

Bee couldn’t help but smile. “No. Definitely not. I’m not doing that to my vagina. We’re not the Duggars.”

“Two or three is good,” he said.

Bee nodded her head in agreement. “Two or three. One of each. Whatever happens first.”

Morgan took his eyes off the road to look at her. She noticed his smile. How he was looking at her; like he’d just laid eyes on the image of perfection. “Yeah. You…you’ve thought about it, then?”

Bee nodded her head. If she thought about the wedding, and establishing a life together, there was no way she didn’t think about kids either. “Of course. You know I want kids.”

“I know. But like…”

“I want kids with you, if that was going to be your next question,” she said. “I mean, there’s no question. It’s you. I’m not having anybody else’s kids. I’m having your kids,” she stressed.

“Okay,” he said, unable to contain the smile on his face. “I uh…yeah. Okay.”

“Tongue tied, are we?”

“No,” he kept trying to contain his smile. “Not at all. Just glad you’ve thought about it too. That’s all.”

“I know…I know you’ve always initiated these conversations in the past,” she said, thinking out loud at this point. “Whether drunk or tipsy or not. But I think about this stuff do. I do love you more than I can describe with words. I just…I think because of my background, because what I’ve been through, I’m a bit less open about it. Because my mom never wanted to hear it when I was a young kid, and because I never really loved her later on growing up. But I do love you. And like…I want everything with you. A life. A house. Children. I may not vocalize it, but I do. And I don’t picture myself having all those things with anybody else. I only want it with you.”

Morgan flipped his hand so he could hold hers and bring it across to his lips so he could kiss it and hold it across his chest. “I only want it with you too,” he said, his lips rubbing against her hand. “I’ve only ever wanted it with you. And I want to give you all that.”

“I want to give it to you too. This is a relationship. A partnership. We can give each other these things,” Bee clarified.

“Yeah. You’re right. That’s what I meant,” he nodded his head again, correcting himself. “We can give each other these things. A life. A house. Children. But not for a while – children, anyway. We…we’re already building a life together.”

“We are.”

“Everything else will come in time,” Morgan said confidently. “I’m just…I know I’ve told you this before, but I thank my lucky stars every single day that it’s you in this life with me.”

Bee smiled again, unable to keep her eyes off of him. “And I thank my lucky stars you sent a mojito to my table.”

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