#is it too much to hope that jonny brings her back??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lostonehero · 2 months

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Ok fuck cannon for both series mech tma au

Also mech Martin as a treat

"W-wait." Jonny stopped holding up his hand before Nastya could set the dimension hop.

"The great Jonny d'Ville stuttering? Never thought I would see the day." Nastya rolls her eyes. "What's wrong? You want to get Martin, right?"

"I..." Jonny sighs and looks at Tim and then back to the rest of the crew and eventually Nastya. He fishes out a pair of glasses from his pocket.

"Smarts Jonny." Ivy raised her brow.

Jonny sighs and crosses his arms. "Tim and I have other versions of ourselves in that universe."

"So?" Raphaella quirks her brow. "Extra parts to experiment with."

"Not exactly." Jonny takes a breath. "Any universe or reality doesn't like copies and to remedy that well... we won't be able to stay here." He starts to motion his hands as his tail starts to lash back and forth. "The reality has a way to correct this, and that is to physically fuse myself with my alter, and the same will happen to Tim. I literally have no idea what that will even do."

Brian tilts his head. "So what you're saying that that there is a chance you'll both dissapear?"

"Not exactly, but kind of." Jonny shrugs, removing his glasses. "Eh, it's whatever just wanted to warn you fucks. Tim and I agreed to go through it. We all were already fucked around with the promise of actual death and waking up before, and who knows Martin's world goes through a literal apocalypse so that will be fun."

Tim nods. "We both have bets going on about how it works. I also get to go to a less advanced version of where I'm from. I really want to see what's that like. Also, I saved Bertie, and he got a long life, so I'm honestly fine with a true death."

Raphaella looks at both of them. "If both of you truly die, can I do an autopsy of your bodies to see what came over?"

"Why the fuck not? I don't give a shit I'll be dead." Jonny hums and raises a brow at Ashes. "What?"

"You'll be human." Ashes motions vaguely to his obvious status as not human.

"Huh." Jonny scratches his stubble. "I'll miss my tail if I remember any of it."

Tim snickers. "I'll be fine."

Ivy smirks. "What if your alternate has short hair?" She pauses. "Also, I want earth books."

"I have a new fear." Tim sighs.

Nastya pauses. "Are you sure?"

TS smiles. "I Think They Already Agreed. Bring Me Back A Earth Cat."

"You heard them let's fucking go." Jonny reached out and grabs Tim's hand. "I ain't living for the rest of time without Blackwood."

"Neither I am." Tim nods. "All speed ahead."

Nastya sighs. "This is a terrible idea, but if both of you still remain, I suppose stopping the apocalypse would please Aurora..... oh hmmmm." She puts the ship full throttle, and in an instant, Jonny and Tim vanish.

......

Martin woke up on his back, which honestly is the weirdest way he could wake up second to the alarm on his... he knew the word for the thing, but he couldn't recall it. He barely fumbled to turn off that obnoxious noise. What was a much more pressing manner was the fact his body was wrong, well correct but that was wrong. He can't recall when he had normal legs and feet... he could, but he would much rather forget the time before the good doctor got her hands on him. He was abnormal for a mechanism since his mechanism was organic in nature his lower half was that of a spider. Of course, he didn't hate it he wanted something different after that.

Ok, at the time, he thought himself a monster and tried to kill himself a multitude of times. He grew out of it. Obviously, it would have been a bleak eternity otherwise. He had a vague feeling of where he was, but the word peaches and worms came to mind. He kind of knew what that meant, but he was more so annoyed that this afterlife was basically before he became a mech. He had to figure out what he was doing.

Maybe if he went too... uh oh right the Magnus Institute, that's when he worked a normal job on earth. This was earth he hoped it wasn't in his head that this was some elaborate death dream because that would be a first. He should try to recall more of this if he is ever going to get through this weird afterlife. He hoped it was an afterlife because if not it meant that he wasn't dead, and he didn't want to do that without Jonny and Gunpowder Tim, and of course, the rest of the crew.

He got showered after figuring out the old-fashioned shower and got dressed in familiar clothes he didn't want to remember. He knew he had to remember, but he really didn't want to. He knew how this world worked. Public transport was easy, and soon, he arrived at the very institute that set everything in motion. What's that saying like a hover bike? Or a bicycle? He will remember what to do and go through the motions.

"You're late." A pretentious pompous voice sneered at Martin.

Martin paused, staring at the man studying him, and he reminded him of Jonny, and a name spilled from his lips. "Jon?"

"Did you hit your head on your way here? Of course I'm Jon." The short man shoved a stack of papers in his arms. "Get through these and try not to fall behind."

Martin frowns and takes the stack of statements. He knew they were statements. Some real some fake, and he had an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach that this wasn't the afterlife. He sat at his desk and stared at a computer, which he didn't recall the password for, and just started to read. He couldn't think about who he saw by him.

"Geez Marto, you ok?" That was Tim, not gunpowder, but Stoker. He was rubbing his eyes, but it was still him.

Martin knew the moment he saw her not corrupted by a thing that wore her skin poorly he might add he knew he wasn't in the afterlife and his death was a fucking lie. He wanted his final death with the rest of them. Did they also wake up before they became? Before the doctor got a hold of them? He takes a breath and sighs. "I'm fine." He forced himself to say. He noticed Tim was bleeding around his eyes. He chose to get up and wet some napkins to help.

"Tim, you really should see a doctor for that." Sasha frowns.

"I'm fine it's probably from my contacts. I'll wear my glasses, and the problem should clear up." Tim gives finger guns as his eyes water.

Martin sighs. "Tim, you're crying."

"Not emotionally." Tim snickers at his joke. "I'm fine. I probably just need rest and to get new contacts." His eyes stop watering after a moment, but it doesn't stop him from rubbing them like they ached.

Martin wasn't convinced, but he knew better than to push it normally got him shot or someone crying in his arms. He knew that didn't matter here. This place wasn't.... he wasn't home. "I'll make some tea for everyone."

"Thank you, Martin." Tim smiles as he rubs his eyes.

"Amazing as always." Sasha smiles.

Martin nodded and distracted himself with making tea. It didn't last long enough as he gave out the tea. He stepped into Jon's office, and he raised a brow at the scene he walked into. Jon was sitting on his knees in a chair not built for that position. "I made you some tea."

Jon nods, rubbing at his chest. "Right."

Martin paused and decided to push his luck. "Why are you sitting like that?"

Jon scowls and takes his mug of tea, and takes a sip. "My lower back aches, and it is worse if I sit normally. My painkillers haven't kicked in."

"Ah, alright, just be careful, alright." Martin smiles, hoping he was acting enough like he did before.

.....

Tim groans as he stares at the bottle of eye drops the doctor gave him. It did literally nothing. His eyes ached and burned, and no matter what he did, the pain wouldn't go away. It's been two weeks, and it's only gotten worse, and he hasn't been able to do anything to relieve it.

He used the heels of his hand and pressed them into his eyes for any sort of relief that wouldn't come. Doctors couldn't find anything wrong and called him basically crazy because there was nothing wrong with his eyes. He knew something was wrong. He knew something was happening.

Tim was desperate. If the eye pain wasn't enough, he was starting to have weird dreams of a man with mechanical eyes. They would talk, and Gunpowder, the other guy picked that name. Don't ask him why it suited him. The memories... no dreams, he keeps having to correct himself. The dreams Gunpowder tells him are his memories, and he apologizes for them all the time. At one point, these memories became his own, but the only thing it did was make Gunpowder more solid in his mind.

Tim liked Gunpowder he was kind and a bit odd, but he didn't feel alone. He hasn't felt seen or known since his brother. Fuck he really missed Danny.

"You have his memories."

Tim nearly fell backward. That was Gunpowder, but he was awake if the pain was anything to say about that. His eyes scanned the small bathroom, searching for the source of the voice, but he didn't see anything. Maybe he was hearing things. The statements were probably getting to him.

Tim sighs and shuts the lights off, and heads to the couch. He just needed to sleep, that's all. Sleep came quickly these days, and he woke up not in Gunpowder's memories but to a futuristic bedroom. He knew this place from some more steamy memories from Gunpowder. Speaking of him, he was lounging in the bed holding a bottle that no longer had labels.

Gunpowder flicked his mechanical eyes to glance at Tim. His long hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and a pair of goggles was around his neck. He held up the bottle. "Shit doesn't do much in here but wants some?"

Tim shook his head as he approached and sat on the edge of the bed. "Did you say something?"

"When you started to spiral? Yeah." Gunpowder sits up, putting the bottle aside. "I'm not as well versed in this theoretical nonesense as Jonny is, but I think it's almost complete." He reached his hand out, and Tim allowed him to grab it. "Soon we'll be together awake and asleep, probably when my eyes finally form. Again, sorry about the pain."

"I don't think I'm able to believe you." Tim had that sinking feeling of dread that he knew Gunpowder was right. "Why?"

"We wanted to save our third to complete us." Gunpowder pulls his hand away. "Eternity isn't great when you're missing someone that helps complete you. We were also promised an apocalypse, and that did sound fun."

"Love is a good reason." Tim wanted to reach out again but refrained. "So would you be able to take over like a ghost?"

Gunpowder laughs. "I ain't no ghost, but maybe again, Jonny knows more about this bullshit than I do."

Tim nods and gets up approaching the door.

"Are you sure?"

"If what you say is true, I might as well know more about you." Tim opened the door and vanished into memories that weren't his own.

Gunpowder picked the bottle up again and sighed. "I wonder if Jonny is having a good time."

.....

Jon felt even worse, he however did not go to the doctor even at Martin insistent, he was acting odd more so than normal, and it made his work even worse. He stripped off his shirt and pants, then finally his binder and groans. The red spot on his lower back right on his tailbone he could pass off as bug bite, now ballooned into a throbbing red mass that was completely solid to the touch.

He really wanted to keep ignoring it, but he felt something move under his skin, and it scared him half to death. Every part of him felt wrong, to his privates they were extra sensitive more so then when he started T to his ears that were bright red and painful, to his head that he can feel growing bumps on his head. The worst of it was his chest, his heart was constantly beating erratically, and he could swear he heard a ticking like a metronome in his chest. Everything was wrong, and yet he just crawled into his bed.

No to Jon, the worst part were these dreams that were nothing but fiction, and this Jonny character was a idiot, a violent obnoxious idiot. Jonny talked to him. He purposely argued with him and teased him. That ass was crude and didn't have a fucking care in the world the complete opposite of himself. He was some vile creature that probably spawned from the statements he read.

Jon bit down on his pillow, he moved wrong, and his sensitive privates sent nerves and sparks through his body. He was asexual he shouldn't have these desires, and he shouldn't be thinking about his coworkers in this matter. Why the fuck was Martin a spider creature it scared him but also thrilled him and he hated these thoughts. Tim was mostly the same, but his hair was long, and his eyes were machines. He blamed Jonny for all of this. But he wasn't real his mind just wanted someone to blame.

That obnoxious crazed laughter rang in Jon's ears. He groaned, spitting out his pillow. "Leave me alone, you annoying hallucination." That only earned him harder laughter. He gave a frustrated yell into his pillow. He refused to listen to the just jerk off from Jonny and grabbed sleeping pills from his draw, and hoped for a dreamless sleep, which he knew was futile. He kept seeing memories that weren't his of some nonesense syfy fan wet dream. Jonny wasn't real, and what he saw wasn't real either.

.......

Sasha moved closer to Tim. "Eyes still bothering you?" She motions to his the dark sunglasses you couldn't see his eyes through.

Tim nods. "Yeah, doctors aren't helping. They feel like they're going to pop." He sighs. "Do you know what's up with boss man?"

Sasha shrugs. "I was going to ask about Martin. He seems more lost than normal, and he seems less jumpy but even more depressed? I don't know he keeps avoiding me every time I try to press."

"I can talk to him if you talk to Jon about his attitude. I watched him yell at Martin first 10 minutes, and Martin just took it with a smile like he didn't care." Tim frowns, rubbing his eyes his vision was getting blurry, and he could feel something wet drip down from his face.

"Eye drops first, you're crying again, and it's not clear." Sasha hands him a tissue. "I'll go talk to Jon."

"You're the best, Sasha." Tim smiles and rushes off to the bathroom. He barely makes it inside when his vision goes dark. He can only whimper in shock as fresh pain blooms where his eyes should be. A wet substance drips down his cheeks, and he barely registers hands on his shoulder, guiding him to sit on the ground.

Soft hands carefully remove the black glasses and a soft curse on his lips from a voice Tim knows, but he can't focus or see who said that. He could feel a wet cloth wipe whatever was on his face.

"Tim, you gotta breathe." That was Gunpowder. He sounded so clear, like he was right next to him. "I know it hurts, but you have to let the machines build themselves. It's actually really neat to watch."

The soft hands were done cleaning his face as he let out a sigh at the loss of touch. And a flash of light burned, and then he heard a soft click like that of a camera and a softer moving of machines like a soft roll. His vision came back way too fast, and suddenly, it was too perfect, and he saw too much. He saw a familiar sweater connected to a man leaning over him. "M-martin?" Of course it was Martin his hands were soft... he didn't know why he thought of them like a cat's paw.

"Blackwood!" Gunpowder gasps.

Martin takes the spoiled hand towel and puts it in his back pocket. "Tim, can you focus on me?"

The soft whirl of machines and Tim was looking at Martin. "What happened?" He could see the hand towel and had a few theories on what the stains were.

Martin smiles softly, and Tim feels calmer.

"Feels safe into the den of the spider." Gunpowder hums. "Do you mind if I just uh..."

Tim barely registered what happened until he was in the spot where Gunpowder was. He saw his body move without him, and he just watched unable to process until it clicked what had happened. "Oh." He watches Martin tilt his head as Gunpowder looks up at him, then he feels a stinging pain as Martin hits them.

Gunpowder holds his cheek and looks to Tim, realizing they both felt it.

Martin takes a breath. "You didn't heed any of my warnings."

Gunpowder smiles staring up at Martin.

Martin falters, and he moves and sits down next to him on the bathroom floor. "Is...?"

"Yeah, Tim's here." Gunpowder hums. "Don't think he made the connection yet."

"That is a given." Martin pulls his knees up. "I haven't.... yaknow, and I'm worried when I do..."

"You won't be able to hide." Gunpowder nods and reaches out to Martin. "Aha, he made the connection."

Martin smiles softly, interlocking his fingers with Tim. "Yeah, a lot of shit happened. Welcome to the madness of it."

"Oh, we're well past madness and circled back round to sanity." Gunpowder chuckles, taking the glasses back. "Talk later?"

Martin nods and watches Tim return to his body. "Are you ok?"

Tim blinks. Well, he thinks he blinks, but he's pretty sure he doesn't have eyelids anymore. "I uh... I think so." He paused. "So where's the spider parts? Don't tell me my shared memories and adult fantasies are a lie."

Martin chuckles. "Oh, you're both horrible. Ask Gunpowder, you ass." He gets up and holds out his hand. "Come on, we have to get back to work before Jon throws another fit."

Tim nods, getting up with Martin's help. "Seriously though, where are the spider bits?"

"I don't actually know, and I don't want to test dying to see if they come back." Martin sighs.

"Ah, fair enough." Tim continues to hold Martin's hand. "I uh...you know what happens..."

Martin frowns. "Tim, for me, it's been well over a few thousand years. My memory isn't perfect. I remember what my mind thinks are the important bits, but I've really tried to forget this happened. The ending isn't a good one." He sighs. "We can talk after work, in the tunnels."

"Tunnels?" Tim raised his brow following Martin, never unlocking their hands.

......

Martin pulled Tim back as emts rushed out with a stretcher. "Who got hurt?"

Sasha rushed over. "I went to check on Jon, and he... he was bleeding, and he was barely breathing. I called the ambulance, and they rushed him to the hospital."

Tim frowns. "Is he ok?"

"I don't know." Sasha gives a soft gasp as Martin pulls her into a hug.

"Hey, you did the right thing. Jon will be fine." Martin smiles softly. "We can visit him after our shift. I'm sure he wouldn't mind visitors."

Sasha hugs him back. "You're right. You're right. He probably knew something was wrong and refused to see a doctor."

Tim sighs. "That does sound like Jon." He paused for a moment. "I, uh yeah, back to work."

Sasha nods, wiping her eyes and pulling away from Martin. "I'm sure he'll appreciate a cleaner archive when he gets back."

Martin nods. "Of course, that sounds great." He grabs Tim's arm. "Tim and I can grab some boxies and start moving things around."

"Oh, that's great." Sasha smiles, watching them leave.

.....

"Why did you grab me?" Tim raised his brow.

"So I think I know what happened to Jon." Martin frowns.

Tim paused, and his demeanor changed, and he sags his shoulders. "Oh, this is not going to be good."

"No, it's not." Martin sighs. "Fuck everything has changed now."

"So, did we do it?" Gunpowder raised his brow.

Martin snickers. "Yeah, not even close. We both know that gods won't take this lying down even if it's Jonny."

"Eh, worth a shot." Gunpowder shrugs. "Blackwood has told me enough to know what Jon ends up as I'll explain later."

.....

Elias adjusts his tie and smiles, looking over his archivist. The unfortunate nature of the Flesh and Stranger working together does have this outcome. Of course, he can pull all the strings needed to have this little incident swept under the rug and tied in a neat bow. He smiles softly, watching him wake up. "Are you alright, Jonathan? You've given us all quite the scare." He stops seeing a scowl that isn't Jon's normal one on his lips.

Jonny's mouth felt like it was full of cotton, and his head was fuzzy, and Jon's nagging didn't exactly help him either. His gaze moved up to the man in a suit. He looked like a prick, an obnoxious wealthy prick. Jon was yelling at him that's his boss and don't fuck this up. Of course he wouldn't fuck this up he knew how to act proper and can copy Jon's boring ass. If he could just focus.

"Jonathan, are you alright? You may have hit your head on the way down. You're on some painkillers." Elias smiles, leaning over him.

Jonny furrows his brows. He hated painkillers and always took the fun out of pain and violence. "...fuzzy..." He managed to mumble. His tolerance to painkillers was null and void due to his affection for actual pain. Couldn't he just get Jon's tolerance and not just the fun new parts to explore. He scowls again at the man above his bed, he wanted to rip that smile off his face.

Elias chuckles softly. "Painkillers will do that, and you're not even on that heavy of a dose. I'm sure your coworkers will be visiting you soon. Hopefully, you'll feel better by then."

Jonny grits his teeth. He had a few choice words for that pompous ass.

"You can't kill him." Jon looked drowsy floating next to him.

At least Jonny wasn't the only one suffering in this cushioned hell. He huffs and turns his head.

Jon chuckles. "Don't be mad. You've got control." He was very out of it. He felt the same effects Jonny was. "What's.... what is uh...." He blinks, unable to form a coherent thought.

Jonny huffs and can't fight the feeling of sleep overtaking him.

......

"So Gunpowder Tim cut a bloody path...." Jonny stops, noticing that his head finally felt clear enough and reciting old ballads of his friends wasn't needed. He looked down at Jon, who was staring at him. He floated down to lay next to Jon. "What's with that look? I already explained our situation to you at nauseum."

Jon scowls, looking away. He then makes a vague motion, unable to explain why he suddenly felt wrong.

Jonny raised his brow. "You've got my dick. Ain't you special."

Jon scoffs, but his face is turning red because he feels that is true. "No..." He huffs.

Jonny paused, watching Jon get frustrated. He didn't feel like sharing in that. He learned early in that they shared emotions, and he had to get used to feeling things that weren't his own. It was honestly worse than Nastya, making him feel Aurora emotions. "I can tell you."

Jon felt himself be pushed out from his body as Jonny took control. He scowls but sighs, watching and feeling Jonny's own emotions. "So? What's wrong with m- us?"

Jonny scowls. "They cut off my fucking tail! It's a fucking bitch to grow that back." He raised his ands and feels around his forehead. "Good, they didn't cut them too short. Actually, I like them short, so this isn't an issue... I'm narrating for you Jon be grateful."

Jon raised his brow. "You can't hear my thoughts?"

"Can you hear mine?" Jonny spits back.

"Fair point." Jon sighs. "Are we ok?"

"Fuck if I know. Everything is new, raw, and sensitive. My dicks never been this fucked before." Jonny growls as he is forced back out by Jon.

"D-Dont do that." Jon pulls the blanket over his body.

Jonny shrugs, not understanding Jon. "Whatever, we just have to adjust." He pauses for a moment, pointing at Jon. "This is earth, right?"

"Yes?" Jon raised his brow.

"Tim and Blackwood always referred to me as a cowboy. What's a cow? I don't think I've ever seen an earth cow."

Jon blinks. "But you have parts like a bull."

"Wait, I thought it was called cows." Jonny returned a confused look.

Jon shakes his head. "Alien, right, you're an alien. You don't know human er earth animals. Cows don't have sharp teeth like you, but uh, bulls are basically male cows, but cows are the general term used."

"Can I see what they look like?" Jonny floated to lay next to Jon.

"Yeah, when I get my phone." Jon paused. "Are you upset I wasn't born a man?"

"Why would I care? You've got my dick now, and I have a new hole to play with. This is a win for me." Jonny shrugs and raised his brow feeling relief pour from Jon.

"Thank you." Jon says quietly.

"Ok?" Jonny shrugs floating to look around the hospital room.

......

Sasha slams on the breaks. "Tim what the fuck."

Tim's eyes clicked and whirled. He was told only he could hear this by Gunpowder. Well, both can hear since they share a body. He reaches for his glasses and realizes he took them off because his ears were bothering him. He could feel the look from Gunpowder and Martin on him. "It's a long story."

Sasha rocketed to a spot to park, and she twisted her body to the back seat. "Tim explain now!"

Martin bites his lip and blurts out. "It's my fault. I'm supposed to be dead, both me and Gunpowder. Promised an end to eternity, and it was a farce and I'm back here like this, and I really tried to forget about this part of my life. I mean for fucks sake you die and get replaced Sasha and none of us notice for a year because of how it worked. Tim dies in an explosion, destroying the circus, and that isn't to mention the fucked up paranoia from Jon and extreme levels of fucked up creatures that I mean now I can look back at and laugh but you can't you're mortal. I mean, these are fear gods, so I mean they will get to you eventually."

Gunpowder grabs Martin's hand. "Martin, that's enough. The only reason Jonny knew about my past was because he was playing soldier and was with me. You don't have to..." He stops as Martin waves him off.

"No, it's fine. Tim and Sasha deserve to know." Martin sighs. "I'll tell you what I can remember it has been a few thousand years since I've been through this."

.....

Sasha swallows. "I believe you."

Martin blinks. "Why?"

"I've had a bad feeling, and I knew Gertrude didn't just go missing." Sasha then points to Tim. "Also look at his fucking eyes Martin that's pretty good evidence."

Gunpowder nods.

Martin gives a nervous smile. "I'm sorry I've gotten used to things over the years. I like Tim's eyes."

"Yeah, yeah, don't boast his ego." Sasha puts her seat belt back on. "So keep your glasses on Tim. We're going to visit Jon if the same thing happened to him like you."

"It's equally as possible. Jon worked himself into a delusional state and just hurt himself." Martin shrugs.

Tim blinks back in control. "That's really dark."

"No, no, Martin has a point." Sasha starts the car again. "Remember that incident in research."

"I tried to forget, but I see your point." Tim sighs, putting his glasses back on.

Martin sighs. "Hopefully that isn't the case."

.....

Jon shifted uncomfortably as he sat up. Jonny wasn't lying. The tail thing was incredibly uncomfortable and annoying. He stared at the hospital food in front of him and was told he couldn't leave till tomorrow. He hated hospital food, and he hated hospitals.

"Stop pouting." Jonny rolls his eyes. "I can feel your emotions and pouting won't get you nowhere."

"Oh, then what can I do? Please enlighten me." Jon scowls taking a bite of his peas.

"For one, actually eat. How the fuck are you in such shit condition? Do you even know what fun is?" Jonny shook his head. "You can't do shit without meat on your bones, and you look half starved. You're a fucking disaster."

Jon continues to scowl, not saying a word.

The door opens to his room.

"Blackwood!" Jonny floats through him, trying to tackle him. "Fuck."

Martin smiles softly as Tim and Sasha follow behind him. "We wanted to make sure you're ok."

"You gave me a scare, Jon." Sasha crosses her arms. "You need to learn how to take a break, or at least see a doctor."

Tim was odd wearing sunglasses that completely hid his eyes, but he knew Tim was having trouble with his eyes. "You look awful."

Jon can't help but give a soft smile. "Just wasn't paying attention and hit my head." He motions to the bandages around his head and ears.

"Don't lie to Blackwood. That man can see through any lie you spit." Jonny crosses his arms. "Besides, I bet you control of my choosing that Gunpowder is in your Tim."

Jon ignores him. "Ah you didn't have to bring me anything."

Martin smiles softly as he pulls out a chocolate slice of cake. "It's just some chocolate cake. I mean, you don't have to have it..." He stops as Jon's demeanor changes in an instant as he pushes his food aside.

Jon was forced out and watched Jonny make grabby hands.

"Give it here, Blackwood." Jonny huffs. "Don't you fucking tempt me."

Martin's expression changed, and Jon could feel a shiver down his back. "You and your sweet tooth." He tisks, placing the slice down.

Jonny grabs the container. "Fuck you." He huffs and has enough decency to use a fork. "Your fucking lucky I have to fix this body or I would end you."

Jon watches Tim snicker. "You lost height!" His snickers turn to giggles.

"Piss off." Jonny scoffs.

Sasha raised her brow. "How did you know the cake would work?"

"d'Ville only has one craving he can't quit, and it ain't cigarettes." Gunpowder smirks, taking off his glasses, revealing his mechanical eyes.

Jonny scowls. "Oh fuck you. I don't deny myself pleasures like you."

"I have manners you lack." Tim spits back.

Martin chuckles and has a glint in his eyes and a sinister smile that again Jon can't tear his eyes from. "Now, both of you, that's enough." He moves closer and leans over Jonny. "How about you behave and finish all of your food, and maybe I'll convince the doctors to let you leave early?"

Jon can feel the tug, no the crashing wave of desire, and just pure love spill from Jonny, and if they had his tail, it would be wagging like a dog.

Jonny, for his part, nods eagerly. "It would be faster if you fed me." He purrs back.

Martin steps back. "Don't push your luck. I'm mad at you."

In a split second, that emotion was gone, replaced with annoyance. Jon had to shake his head from the whiplash.

"We agreed!" Jonny huffs stuffing his face with food. "It's not like you were there with your bleeding heart. You weren't there, I woke up after that bar in that... look, I'm not having this conversation."

Jon could feel a bubble of an emotion, one that he knew should leave unspoken. He remains quiet watching Martin.

Martin gaze didn't break, let alone change. He crosses his arms. "Did you do the same?"

Jonny swallows his final bite. "I can't say I wanted to change it, so I didn't."

Martin's gaze seems to finally soften. "Good, he didn't deserve forgiveness." He reached out and pat Jonny's shoulder. "That's my cowboy." He pauses. "What's with the frown?"

"They cut off my tail." Jonny sounded honest and small.

Jon was taken aback.

"I never said humanity was a kind species." Martin brushes a stray piece of hair out of Jonny's face. "It will grow back."

"Not the point." Jonny sighs. "How's your former mortal." His gaze shifted to Tim.

"Probably better than yours with the adjustment." Gunpowder slides his glasses back on. "You look like shit."

"Not my fault." Jonny mutters.

"Never said it was." Gunpowder muses. "Maybe you shouldn't have asked Martin for his story."

Martin rolls his eyes. "Just because you're bitter doesn't mean you get to drag me into this argument again." He walks by Sasha, grabbing her arm. "Would you like to hear more while they complain?"

Sasha nods. "Sure, why not." She follows Martin out of the room as he shuts the door behind him.

Gunpowder frowns. "Don't give me that look. I already got an earful from him, and to be fair, he warned both of us to wait. Now, why do you think this didn't happen the first time?"

"Aren't you just full of dumb questions." Jonny adjusts his glasses. "They were already dead and gone by the time we crossed the first time. This place was fine. I dunno Blackwood said it's been. I dunno fifty years since it ended and started again." He raised his brow at something Tim couldn't see. "You do know what apocalypse means, right? Right well that happened, and you died before I came here the first time."

Gunpowder waves his hand. "Jonny, stop, we both know what happened in the end. They don't know the full truth yet, neither of them."

Jonny frowns and stares at Tim. "How long do you think it will take till being the good guy gets old?"

"Who knows? We've never tried it." Gunpowder shrugs. "You should hold off on being honest about this world, as much as I know you like your stories and songs. Unless you want to deal with Jon."

Jonny waves him off. "Whatever, it doesn't matter now he'll learn as I will annoyingly to see his memories. Just let me figure this out, and as much as I hate to see you two on good terms compared to my situation. Just wait."

For what, Jon had no idea, but this Gunpodwer did, who nodded.

"Seriously though, figure something out with this Jon. You seriously look worse than when we were starving, as a competition." Gunpowder sighs. "Blackwood..." He looks through the door. "Yeah, he already convinced the doctors and nurses to let you go, and they are on their way. Enjoy your new home, alone." He smirks as he leaves.

Jon was flung back into his body, feeling Jonny fuming, but the other man was uncharacteristic silent. He had to think this over and what this actually meant. So he died the first time, but when and how? Before or after the apocalypse?

.......

He wasn't truly alone, not anymore. Jon sunk into his bed and opened his phone. "How did Martin even convince them to let me leave?"

"He's got a way of trapping people making them do what he wants." Jonny hums. "Now, show me a picture of a cow."

Jon wanted to press, but he quickly learned pleasing Jonny was the best way to get answers. He pulled up a picture of a cow and a bull and held it up.

Jonny was quiet studying the creatures he saw. He broke into a wide grin. "They look cute, don't they. Good cows."

Jon hums and sighs. "You said Martin told you what happens to this world. What happens? Why did he become one of you? What are you guys?"

Jonny frowns. "I rather not feel your stupid emotions." He scratches behind his ear. "You won't let this go. However, Blackwood warned me you were insistent, so I might as well spin you a tale." Suddenly, a harmonica appeared in his hands. "A tragic fate of star-crossed lovers doomed by forces beyond their control, and a man turned to a monster that was left in the ruins."

Jon listened to the haunting story on a soft melody. He learned how his coworkers, no his friends, died. How he roamed the wastelands the fears as the apocalypse he caused reigned, how Martin stayed by his side even though he caused this by being tricked. The story ended in a sharp blade.

Jonny stopped. "And you were no more as the pancoption crumbled the archive now, just a man taking his final breath. An ending driven by a man afraid of death and so willing to please a god who didn't care for him as nothing more than a tool. Blackwood crushed but was not dead. A familiar doctor just happened to be passing by the rubble. She wanted to try something new, just not machines anymore, something animalistic, something new. And so Blackwood became a monster a first of his kind." He stretches. "Immortality such a boring goal, isn't it? You would think you would want something more interesting."

Jon was speechless he couldn't string together thoughts.

Jonny frowns, feeling the rush of emotions. "Look..." He swallows and feels tears drip down his face. He was frustrated that he couldn't stop this. He hated emotions, and he hated being honest to himself, but Jon still viewed himself as mortal, and he won't be raw without his partners. He floated down beside Jon and let him cry. He couldn't stop it. The rush of emotions overwhelmed him.

Jon finally spoke. "How do I stop it?"

"Fuck if I know. I wasn't here. I heard the story from Blackwood." Jonny was purposely looking away from him. "You have to ask him, but we promised to play the good guys this time around, or well, until it gets boring."

"We're going to stop this." Jon tried to muster confidence he didn't have.

Jonny just sighs. "Go to bed. Watch some of my memories. If you don't start trying to fix your body, I will do it by force."

Jon pulls his blanket up and frowns. He falls into an unsteady sleep.

......

Elias raised his brow, watching his archivist return to work. "Jonathan, I did tell you to take time to rest after yesterday." He had a smile and a silver tongue.

Jonny scoffs. "He's worse sober."

Jon smiles nervously. "I'm fine, Elias." He adjusts his hat covering his new sensitive ears. His tail had already started to grow back, and Jonny said it's a side effect of immortality, which Jon didn't believe in. It's supposed to be much longer than a cow's tail and semi prehensile. He wanted to test it but knew better than to try anything in public.

Elias frowns. "Now, Jon, I don't need you working yourself sick again." He knew the effects of the stranger and the flesh it probably hasn't hit the man yet, and he didn't want him breaking down having him explain the truth.

Jon frowns. "I'm fine, Elias. I know how to take care of myself. I'm going to get back to work."

Elias frowns, crossing his arms and watching Jon rush off to the archives . He raises his brow, and seeing the start of a tail, he is informed that it is cut off. It shouldn't be growing back this fast. He had a few connections to pull to get more information. He had no desire to pick another archivist nor start again.

......

"We should kill him." Jonny floats next to Jon, his tail lazily flicking behind him.

"Elias is my boss. I'm not going to kill him." Jon scowls as he hears Tim snickers. "Tim, that's enough."

Tim hums, Jon can see his hair is curling and is getting lighter than the black he has. "I don't think so, bossman. We think it's quite hilarious Jonny's on a leash."

Jon was pushed out as Jonny took control. "Oh go fuck yourself you fucking cunt." Jonny stomps off to Jon's office making it a point to slam the door.

Martin snickers from the entrance and refrains from explaining Elias can see them. Oh, that would be hilarious. Does he know Jon and Jonny are sharing a body, or does he think that the fears changed Jon? Either way, things have changed, and he wants to see Elias... no Jonah squirm with the unpredictability. Martin will force him to realize immortality is not worth it, and death is a gift. He silently walks to his desk and takes a seat.

"Enjoying the show?" Tim smirks. "We are."

"Oh, I'm enjoying something else." Martin smiles back.

"Already knitting a web, I see." Gunpowder nods. "I always enjoy the finished project."

Martin taps his fingers against his desk. "You know I think it's not a Web I rather not get mixed up with that particular fear I think I can recall the avatar is kind of a right bitch."

"Really? You have to explain the fear thing better because some of them just sound fun or fun to kill." Gunpowder smirks.

"Later, and Sasha already made a list." Martin points to Sasha sipping her coffee.

"You two share a body. Did you not pay attention when Tim was reading it?" Sasha raised her brow.

Tim huffs. "I couldn't figure out how to turn off the Xray vision on these damn eyes until like an hour before I slept." He had a slight blush on his cheeks. "Then the damn things wouldn't stop focusing on objects miles away."

Gunpowder took back control. "To be fair, I still have trouble controlling them. Human biology and mechanical parts tend to fight until they get into a rhythm. Also, I have like a million years of experience, and Tim does not."

Sasha frowns. "That sounds actually awful. Does Jonny have these problems?"

Gunpowder shrugs. "He never complains, and if he dislikes something, he's quite vocal. I think he uses the ticking as a metronome."

Martin nods. "As boney as he is, he's very nice to sleep too. The ticking is quite soothing." He sighs. "Granted, I won't be able to enjoy any of that for a long while, I reckon."

"Shit, I remembered that this isn't a desert planet." Gunpowder pauses. "Jonnys going to be a little bitch."

"Why?" Sasha raised her brow.

"Jonny's originally from a mostly desert planet, so his tail ears and horns were basically made to keep him cool. Even the nights were hot, so he doesn't exactly have any defenses against the cold, and he makes his complaints known as Gunpowder said." Martin hums. "Although he loves the snow and rain."

"We never said the man made sense." Gunpowder shrugs, letting Tim back in control.

Sasha tilts her head. "What was the planet like that you're from?"

"Gunpowder is from the earth of a different dimension." Tim taps his pen against his desk and adjusts his glasses. "He did however blow up the moon."

"Now you're just fucking with me." Sasha rolls her eyes and heads back to her desk.

Martin chuckles. "Don't feel bad about it. In this time, we've barely had any people on the moon."

"See, I told you!" Tim huffs. "He wouldn't listen to me or the facts I provided."

"Tim, you have to understand where we're coming from. We lived on a spaceship." Martin hums heading to his desk to start working.

Tim sighs. "Still annoying."

.....

Martin stares at the bloody fingernails in the sink. He knew his luck was running out. His body wasn't going to wait till his first death. He could feel how tight his skin felt and how it was hard to walk to breathe. He wasn't scared to become what he was supposed to be, but it would make this so much harder. He flexed his hand, seeing the black claw nails start to poke through his flesh. He doesn't truly care he made peace ages ago with what the doctor made him.

Elias watched Martin with a curious gaze. He can feel the Beholder use his eyes to watch intently. He had a feeling in his gut something changed something twisted in the mere fabric of reality. He hasn't even checked on Jon since he arrived this morning, and the Beholder agreed that something more interesting was happening. Martin was unassuming and predictable, but this was new, and he wanted to know why. He wasn't an avatar, and that also fueled his curiosity. How is he changing without one of the fears?

Martin rubbed his eyes and sighed. He had time, and he had time to prepare. He wanted Jonny. He just wanted that soft ticking, Gunpowder could soothe his anxieties, but Jonny was a comfort. Sure, the man was brash rude and a devil, but he was his, and that was enough. Gunpowder wouldn't touch him till Tim was fully on board with him, and Martin respected that. Hell he was fucking happy with that. Jonny, however, was a mystery, Jon was tighter lipped, and he knew how long it took for Jon to even understand his emotions, let alone actually relie on others.

Martin gathered his fingernails from the sink and threw them out with a sigh. Maybe he could go to artifact storage to slow things. Well, that has just a likely chance to kill him. He doesn't care. Maybe he could convince Gunpowder and Tim to head to the tunnels properly. He finished washing his hands, not even flinching at the exposed nerves.

Elias's gaze intensified as he watched Tim enter the bathroom. More importantly, he removed his sunglasses, revealing new eyes. When did he get surgery? More importantly, how can he still see? He shut his eyes, and he was seeing from Tim's eyes.

Tim scratched his chin. "Martin, you alright?"

Elias saw a man in the mirror that wasn't Tim.

Martin sighs. "I'm fine." He stretches. "Just a bit achey, what about you?"

"I'm fine." Tim crosses his arms. "Ok, maybe not entirely fine, but I'm getting used to it."

The man in the mirror that wasn't Tim spoke and Elias could hear him.

"I know my scars aren't pretty, and I'm sorry." The not Tim sighs.

Tim shook his head. "Dude, I said it's fine." He turns back to Martin. "I'm more peeved about the hair than I am about the scars, and I still haven't agreed to grow it out."

Not Tim huffs.

Martin chuckles. "The two colors look good together, and if you don't grow it out, what else am I supposed to grab?"

Tim swallows, and Elias sees him in the mirror, and he figured it out that this not Tim was in control.

"Oh, don't tease the man. He doesn't understand the fun a simple act can do. Let alone one with those..." Not Tim stops staring at Martin's hand. "When?"

Martin huffs. "Gunpowder, it's fine. You know how you can't hide what the good doctor does to you. I'm fine. I just feel a bit stiff and uncomfortable, but it will pass."

Not Tim or Gunpowder, ridiculous name if you asked Elias. He smiles softly.

"Fuck the waiting, from what I've seen its going to be brutal and he shouldn't be alone..." Tim was speaking out loud now. "He shouldn't have to go through this by him....self... ah, you ass."

Martin raised his brow with a soft smile. "I appreciate the offer, Tim, but you're not exactly desensitized enough for my liking."

Tim huffs. "Then Gunpowder will watch and be out. You don't deserve to be alone through this. I know you have an issue with that, I uh well, Gunpowder knows, and I saw the memory."

"Fine, if you insist." Martin paused, and Elias shivers with that look. "I've shared things with Gunpowder in secret. I don't want you to share with anyone." He grabs Tim's shirt. "Understand?"

Tim swallows and nods.

Martin smiles again as his features soften. "Good, I'll come by your flat tonight."

Tim watches Martin leave with a shudder. Elias doesn't leave yet.

"I warned you about being caught in Blackwood's web. You're not close enough with him to get comfortable." Gunpowder clicks his tongue. "He's not the man you knew, so please don't underestimate him. I would rather not die before Jonny does. We've got a bet going on."

Tim swallows and slides the dark sunglasses back on, and Elias is shocked to see his vision didn't change in the slightest. "He's still a good person."

"That's... well, none of us are good." Gunpowder responds dryly. "It comes with the territory."

Tim didn't like that answer, but he remained quiet as Elias came back to himself. He had a lot to think about.

......

"At least you know how to tell a story." Jonny responds with a bored tone. "These statements still suck, I still suggest we burn the entire place down."

Jon scowls. "No." He stretches and pulls out the used tape. "Can you think of anything that doesn't involve violence.... or sex." He gives a glare.

"Now you're just plain boring." Jonny raised his brow. "Being serious all the time must be fucking exhausting."

Jon sputters. "Just because I'm not some guy who thinks he's immortal and some sex pest doesn't mean anything."

"I don't care what you think of me." Jonny stares directly at Jon. "We are stuck together for the rest of time, and whatever comes after."

Jon scowls. "I won't devolve to be on your level."

Jonny rolls his eyes. "I don't care."

Jon huffs and leaves his office.

"Jon, you ok?" Sasha smiles softly.

Jon stops and sighs. "I'm fine, just getting used to an unfortunate roommate."

"That's one way to call it." Tim mutters.

"You two should try getting along." Sasha hums. "You'll be stuck together forever, I guess. I think it would suck if you two were stuck together fighting for all of that."

Jon scowls. "Oh, he's a right ass only cares about violence and sex. He's nothing but a pest, and I abhor the fact that I have to share my own body with him."

"Oh piss off." Jonny huffs.

Gunpowder sighs. "His attitude comes with his age. He is the oldest of us besides the doctor, but we don't know about her, though, really." He kicks his feet up. "Jonny, I know you're listening. You should be cautious he's going to see memories that you've forgotten. Funny how the mind works even if we forget they still exist in there, just waiting for a trigger to pull them free."

Jon expected Jonny to kick him out and take control, but he felt fear grip his heart that no longer beat. He swallows the dread that wasn't his and doesn't look at Jonny. "I will keep that in mind for when I sleep."

The conversation dies as Jon leaves as the day has ended, and he doesn't want to linger.

.......

The rusty hinges creaked on the old shack the teen called a home. He made sure he tipped off his shoes before entering, and he saw his father passed out in a drunken stupor. He carefully made his way to the small kitchen connected to the living room. If you would call it, that and stumbled upon a note.

"Jonny boy, I've left to clean up after your father. He pissed off some old doctor at the edge of town. I've left old Bessie for you to make sure she's in better condition when I get back, boy. Now, if I don't come back, I know you won't end up like your father. You're too smart for that. Use your ears to find a target to shoot. We both know your eyes aren't the best use that good hearing of yours. Don't file your horns too short boy they grow for a reason, and I love you forever and always."

Wrapped in leather by the note was a familair old looking revolver, the name Bessie was carved crudely into the handle. The weight would become familair in the teen's hands. He took the note scowled at his father and then headed off to hunt for dinner since that lazy piece of shit won't do anything but gamble.

Jon woke up with a start. He could feel a rush of emotions that weren't his. "I..."

"Don't say a fucking word." Jonny scowls. "Don't go telling nobody about that."

Jon nodded he paused, squinting at the clock that glowed, showing it was 3am. He sighs. "I don't remember my mother, or my father, with died at different times, but I was too young to remember them. My grandmother raised me, bitter she had to raise another child. Never told me that directly, however."

Jonny braces himself and grits his teeth. "I don't remember what my mom looks like either."

"Then we have that in common. Maybe the next dream will be my memory, and you can pick apart that." Jon sighs and curls under his blanket.

Jonny nods. "Just go back to sleep."

......

Martin grits his teeth and groans in pure agony. He could barely register the hand going through his red curls. His legs hurt, and he couldn't move them. His skin felt like it was on fire, and he didn't particularly like burning to death. He was stripped down to his birthday suit, and it didn't help with the fact that he was in pure agony.

Gunpowder continues to run his hands through Martin's hair. "It's alright, you're ok. It will be over soon."

"Just fucking kill me." Martin groans.

"We both know that won't help." Gunpowder sighs. "Would you like to hear my story?"

Martin takes a deep breath. "Please distract me."

Gunpowder nods and begins to narrate his origins.

....

An obnoxious alarm pulled Tim from sleep on the floor. He was laying in something wet and the smell of iron... no blood filled his nose, which caused him to panic and flail completely awake. His eyes lock onto a large spider, half then blood, then flesh and bone. Gunpowder takes over before he can throw up.

"Yikes, I thought the shared emotions wouldn't be this strong. Man, you are super depressed." Gunpowder gets up, smearing the blood off from his body. "You're going to need a stronger stomach." He looked over Martin, who was out cold. "See, he's breathing.... please stop screaming. " he covers his mouth, feeling his stomach sour from the sheer fear and disgust from Tim. He swallows the bile rising in his throat, turns away from the scene, and heads to the bathroom.

Gunpowder barely makes it to the toilet to empty the contents of his stomach. He continues to dry heave for a moment before turning to face Tim. "Are you done?"

Tim was pale, and he finally caught his breath. He was still radiating fear and disgust, but he was stable enough to talk. "Is he still alive?"

Gunpowder wipes his mouth. "Of course he is. What part of we can't die, don't you understand?" He frowns, pulling back his frustration. "Sorry you can't control how you react yet. I didn't realize how much I would share when we feel strong emotions." He sits on his knees and sighs. "I'll clean up, just try not to get sick again, please."

Tim nods and shudders. "I.... I'm not desensitized to this stuff. I'm sorry."

Gunpowder gets up, feeling the soft twists of sadness and self-doubt. "Tim, it's not a bad thing, means you're still human. Don't be too hard on yourself." He pulls out some cleaning supplies from the bathroom cabinet. "Tell me about Danny."

Tim frowns and nods slightly. "He was my younger brother...."

.....

Martin wakes up to someone touching his hand. He furrows his brow, pulling his hand back, and skitters up to be his full height, staring down at Tim. He hissed and then blushed, finally realizing that Tim was, in fact, there, and he wasn't a threat. He covers his face and groans, playing out his legs to be shorter. "I didn't mean to hiss at you."

Tim looked over to Gunpowder giggling, and he felt a laugh bubble in his own throat, and wow, no wonder he got frustrated. He didn't exactly know how he felt about feeling someone else's emotions. He gave a soft smile and reached out again to hold Martin's hand. "Your hands are really like a cat's paw."

Martin smiles and lets Tim take his hand. "Spiders have padded limbs and toe beans if you actually look at them."

"That's actually really cute." Tim blushes slightly. "Oh shit how are we going to get to work?"

Martin shrugs. "Might as well scare Elias first."

"Really?" Tim snickers. "What is he scared of spiders?"

"No, he's scared of what they represent." Martin hums. "We're going to be late, and I need a shirt."

"Right, you brought a spare one, right?" Tim paused and rushed over to a bag Martin brought. "Also, you're going to have to talk to my neighbors because of all the stuff we threw out, and they probably think I'm a serial killer."

Martin snickers. "I think I'll scare them into silence."

"Man, I've seen too much of Gunpowder, and Jonny and you having fun together to remember that I'm supposed to be scared of you because you're a spider centaur." Tim tosses over a sweater.

"I suppose I don't find myself scary either. Honestly, the fear left pretty quickly once I realized how my new body worked." Martin smiles. "This will be obnoxious getting to work. I don't mind walking. You live much closer than I do, but being stared at isn't ideal."

"Maybe a blanket?" Tim stops and covers his face. "That wouldn't work."

Martin chuckles. "I appreciate the concept idea, but Jonny tried that once."

"Wait really?" Tim raised his brow.

"Yeah, ended up in a bar fight." Martin snickers. "Although it was fucking hilarious."

"Huh." Tim crosses his arms. "Just bite the bullet and head out?"

"After you." Martin hums and smiles.

.....

Elias blinks, and the scene doesn't change. What confounds him the most is the fact that this has nothing to do with the web. The Beholder is taking it all in, and he can feel actual confusion from his patron. He clears his throat and approaches. "Martin, I don't believe it's near Halloween unless you've got an event planned."

Martin hums impressed at how well Elias can mask his true emotions. "I don't think a costume would be strong enough to carry someone on." He motions to Tim who waves.

"He insisted that he carry me." Tim smiles.

"Well, yes, but I hope I don't cause you too much trouble." Martin smiles. "Why the surprise this is your institute, and shouldn't you expect the supernatural?" He has a smirk as he walks past a stunned Elias.

Elias doesn't have a response to that. His mind was completely blank, and the Beholder was eerily silent.

Tim was snickering. "Double boss man seems quite stunned."

Martin chuckles. "Oh, this is quite fun."

That thought came crashing down with a terrified scream and wide eyed stares.

Martin felt exposed, and he couldn't remember the last time he felt bad about his body until this moment. He knows Tim can feel him tense. "I..."

"Jon, seriously?" Tim huffs sliding off Martin's back. "It's not his fault he's like this."

Jon was trying really hard to keep his panic and fear in check, and he felt a growing bubble of white hot rage directed at him and feeling it. The feedback loop was really confusing. "I uh..." He was forced out by Jonny.

"Fuck off." Jonny took back control his tail was lashing and puffed out at the end. His ears were pinned back, and the hair on top of his head was puffing out. "Seriously fuck off I don't judge you for who you carnally desire. Blackwood is mine, and you have absolutely no right." He goes o continue his rant, but a tooth falls out. He blinks as confusion fills his features, and he crouched down to poke it.

Martin opens his mouth and closes it. "You know I remember now what he was missing, the teeth."

"The teeth." Gunpowder repeats with a nod.

"I'm sorry Martin, are you ok?" Sasha vaguely motions.

"I mean, it was painful, but it doesn't hurt now." Martin pauses. "I have to figure out how to use my desk."

Tim is getting back control, pulling his eyes away from Jonny, now messing with his teeth. "I mean, you can get rid of the chair and move from there."

"That could work." Martin hums and looks over to Jonny. "Are you ok?"

Jonny holds a handful of his teeth. "What do you think?" He scowls. "Well fuck you too. No, I'm mad at you. That's a stupid fucking question, I don't care about spiders let alone being scared of them."

Three pairs of eyes watch the one sided argument.

.....

A fog seemed to roll into Elias's office out of nowhere, and a tall, muscular man in a captains attire steps inside. The man stops and stares at Elias, who had his head down on his desk. "Elias?"

Elias groans. "Peter."

"Shouldn't you be enjoying your new archivist floundering?" Peter raised his brow.

Elias takes a breath. "Peter, I have called every avatar I ever had contact with to ask if they knew what was going on with my archivist and his assistants. I have no leads, and the Beholder is clueless."

Peter opens his mouth then shuts it with a click.

"Do you have any idea what's happening? Because I don't have a singlaur clue." Elias throws his hands up. "One of the archivist assistants is a half spider centaur, and he's not even aligned with the web. The other has mechanical eyes that still work as eyes. That technology doesn't exist, and the Flesh doesn't bother with machines."

Peter reaches out. "I think you need a vacation."

Elias slams his hands against his desk. "Peter, I'm serious!" He gets up and grabs Peter's arm, and drags him to the archives.

Peter stared stunned.

#the mechanisms #the magnus archives #jonny d'ville #jonathan sims #sasha james #tim stoker #gunpowder tim #martin blackwood

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lingering-42-long · 7 months

Text

Pegging a Sarg.

October 1

Johnny “soap” McTavish x female! Reader

It’s kinktober! That means from now till October 31 there is going to be some spicy content. IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18 DNI!

Warnings: Adult content, DNI! 18+

Johnny and you had a strong relationship. The pair of you were always working like 2 cogs in a clock, but things were slow. Not in a bad way necessarily but in bed it was getting one noted. On some weeks you and Johnny were just too tired for any activity.

Now here you were at an adult store, looking at things to spice up the mood in bed. A few thing’s caught your eye as you browsed though. A nice young lady came and smiled at you “need anything?” She asked.

“I’m looking for something to really spice the mood up… it’s been getting stale in bed.”

The young lady laughed and smiled “ have you tried a strap? It’s not for everyone but we get a lot of women who come in with the same issues and the strap works wonders on meny.” She showed you the collection.

“Ok! How do I wear it.” You asked

“It straps to your hips and some to your thighs to get a better fit. If this is you and your partner’s first time I would suggest a smaller size and numbing cream.”

You nodded and got the recommended size. “Is there anything else?”

“Do you have lube?”

“Yes.” You chuckled

“Ok good! It will be your best friend. When my partner and I do it, I always do a warm up. Stretch him out slowly then enter. You can wear gloves if you feel like you need it just lube them up.”

“Thank you so much… I think I’ll try it.”

You purchased the goods and then went to the grocery store to buy dinner. As you were shopping, you called your husband, “hello lass, how’s my bonne doin’?” His thick accent making it almost hard to understand him. “Hey Jonny, I got food for dinner tonight, also a surprise.”

“Oh a surprise? Will I like the surprise?” He chuckled.

“I think so… will you be tired tonight?” This was code for “will you be able to fuck tonight?”

“I think so Lass.” He chuckled. “I’ll be home early.”

“Ok good… then I will see you later.”

“Alright lass. Take care. I loue ye.”

“I love you too.” You hung up and continued to shop for dinner.

Later, as you were making the dinner, you could hear keys jingle and the front door being unlocked. Soon, a tall man with a mohawk appeared, taking off his military jacket and boots, making a beeline to you. Before you could even get one word out, he engulfed you into his burly arms. “Ah lass I missed ye.” He breathed in your sent as he kissed your neck and cheeks before kissing your lips.

“I missed you too. Dinner is being made right now, hope you brought your appetite.” You laughed

“Lass, Lass, when have ye ever know meh not te bring meh appetite.” He chuckled.

“True.” You giggled and managed to wiggle out of his arms to finish dinner.

“You need any halp Lass?” He asked

“Nope I got it” you kissed him before shooing him out of the kitchen as you finished the meal. He only laughed and walked into the dining room to get the table set before sitting down in the living room.

Once dinner was finished you both ate and chatted about each others day. Dinner was done you started washing the dishes when you felt your husbands lips press up on your neck. “What about tha’ surprise ye were talken about?” He purred in your ear, shivers ran down your back and your legs felt like jelly. He always had this affect on you.

“Let me get these dishes done then we can-“ before you could grab the other pot, his hands stopped yours in a gentle but firm manner.

“Lass Yer always worken why don’t you just relax yeah? I promise I’ll do the dishes once we have our time together.” He held you close and kissed your neck again. You relented and sighed.

“Ok. Your right….” You smiled at him. “I got something for us to try… have you heard of pegging?” You asked.

“Ah! My bonne Lass has some kinks I see.” He winked at her “wha ye want te do te meh?”

“I got the gear… can we try tonight?” A smirk formed.

“Well Lass lead tha way, I’m under yer mercy.”

You smirked as you dragged your husband into the bedroom before laying him down and completely stripping him of his clothes. His well-built, abs and toned muscles flex slightly as you begin unbuckling his pants. Grabbing some lube, you carefully inserted your fingers first one then to, and you begin gently prodding his whole before coming to hit a certain type of bump which made the man moan loudly.

“So that makes you sensitive?” UT used as you begin, pressing more and rubbing on that bump.

“Ahhhh Lass! That feels so good Ahh!” His moans were loud as he arched his back up into the air.

Now you got on your strap with the fake dildo attached to it and carefully inserted it into his hole after lubricating and numbing the area. He let him get adjusted first before he started pumping. You could tell he was very hard as pre-cum was leaking onto the bed as he was on all fours in a doggy style position while you were toppling him. Johnny was bright, red in the face. Sweat fell off of his bangs that were in his eyes, and his back and arms glistened with it. The man was panting as he wanted to reach down and rub out his cock as you were moving but then again, he would lose his balance, so he looked to you over his shoulder. “Please love! Ah~ please rub me out.” You did as you were told and gently begin massaging his cock as you pumped into him. He was stiff and aching to release. The man cried out as he bucked in your hand.

You began rocking your hips, faster and faster into him having the dildo go deeper and deeper and rubbing that special spot of his making, the man seem moving shapes and colors in his eyes, as he felt so close to being overboard. Soon, without warning, the man cave three hard thrusts before releasing all over the bed, Cum flew everywhere and painted the sheets white.

Your Sergeant collapsed in his own filth and panting heavily. Once he got his composure, and you had pulled out, he immediately flipped you onto the bed this time his turn

“Oh Lass don’t be shocked, I plan on returning the favor.~” he purred as he began pounding into your wet dripping pussy.

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

Click here to send me your requests!

#cod x reader #cod x you #x reader #cod #soap x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny x reader #soap mctavish #soap x you #soap x y/n #soap mw2 #soap cod #kinktober #18+ post

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shylemon0 · 2 years

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Knitted Mittens (Gotham!Jonathan Crane x Reader)

He’s so cute I could cry!

(Why did this almost take 2 months for me to complete 😳😟)

(I have a taglist now! It’s on my pinned post if you want to know more about it!)

Warning: angst, using R instead of y/n, implied mistreatment of mentally ill/disabled people, scars, Gotham Asylum sucks, guilt, manipulation

(Gn reader) ———

I looked at the gates of Gotham Asylum as I got off the bus; really excited to see Jonathan again, it’s been 4 weeks since I last could come visit him which is way too long in my opinion, I finally took a step towards the gate and started walking towards the front entrance, “Oh! Young R, Nice seeing you this afternoon, Are you here to see Jonathan as usual?” The nurse greeted and asked as she saw me walk towards her desk, “yup just as usual” i said with a smile on my face “oh I almost forgot-” I reminded myself as I reached into my bag “i made these for Jonathan, I hope it’s okay if I give them to him-” I said as I laid a pair of knitted mittens on the desk “-l know the rules are super strict and all but I really hope I could just give him these- oh and you can of course give them a check if you’re concerned about me bringing something I shouldn’t, I heard what happened a few days ago with the sharpened pen someone brought in” I rambled, she only smiled and said “I’m sure you could bring these in dear, but yes I do have to check them just in case” I only nodded in response and pushed them closer to her for inspection.

Once the nurse finished looking over the stuff, she gave them back to me and stood up to walk me to Jonathan’s room, we were walking down a hallway that was right next to a common area where a lot of the other patients were socializing, “R! Hello!” Greeted a patient I’ve seen a couple times when I came to visit Jon previously, “Hi Steve, how has your art project been going?” I ask giving him a little smile “it’s going great! I could show yo-” Steve got interrupted by a doctor yelling “Steve stop bothering the guests” “but I-” Steve tried to say something before he got grabbed by the arm and dragged away, I kept my eyes on them for as long as I could, this place is horrible.

We turned a corner as she took out her keys to Jonathans room, the second we stood in front of the door she opened it and stepped in front of me for a second “Jonathan you have a visitor” she loudly said startling Jonathan by the sudden loud noise, I could hear movement in the room before the nurse stepped aside letting me walk into the room, the door shut and I quickly got bombarded by Jonathan throwing his arms around me “i missed you” he whispered into my neck, I couldn’t keep myself from smiling of the feeling of having him around me again “i missed you too Jonny” I hugged him back before he let go still keeping his hand in mine, he lead me over to his bed and we both sat down “I’ve got something for you” I softly said with a small smile on my face “really?” Asked surprised that you were able to bring it in “yeah, now cover your eyes” l smiled at him, he put his hands over his face and I leaned down and grabbed the gift from my bag.

“okay you can look now” I said cheerfully, Jonathan slowly and hesitantly moved his hands to his lap and opened his eyes to see my arms reached out with the gift in hand, “here you go” I giggled as he grabbed his gift and started to take a closer look, “w-wow! Did you made these?” Jon asked with a smile growing on his face “yeah, I know it gets pretty cold here during the night so I thought I’d just make you something” I explained as he put the mittens on his hands “thank you” he said as he quickly hugged me once again “I’m glad you like them” i said as I put my arms around him, he rubbed his face into my neck “I love you so much” he whispered so quietly that I almost didn’t hear it “I love you too Jonny” I whispered back as I laid down on my back with Jonathan in my arms, his head rested on my chest as I played with his hair.

We laid there and just talked about memories for an hour or two, it ended up in Jonathan looking up at me and me looking down at him as I had him in my arms, I caressed his face keeping my eyes on his face, my fingers slowly slid up to his forehead and scalp when I felt something by his hairline, I frowned as I moved his hair to see what it was when I saw scars, electric burn scars, holy shit what are they doing to you I thought as I sat us up and looked back at him with shock and sadness, he looked ashamed, “when did this happen?” I quietly asked, he frowned and looked down “Jonny?” I whispered as I carefully caressed his face making him look at me “I-.. They said it wou- would fix it- me” he stuttered “it didn’t” he said a little louder as his eyes averted away from my face, I pulled him in and held him pecking small kisses on the top of his head “please don’t be ashamed of what they did to you, it’s not your fault, it was never your fault” I whispered into his hair, Jonathan put his arms around me clinging to my shirt as he started to sob into my shirt, I rubbed his back to comfort him “you didn’t deserve to have that happen to you Jon, please know that” I whispered into his hair “you deserve nothing but love and happiness” I continued to whispered as my eyes watered, his tightened grip loosened as his sobbing turned into sniffing, I slightly pulled away as I pressed my lips on his scars and slowly trailed kisses down to the bridge of his nose and all the way down to his lips, I held his face slowly rubbing circles with my thumb over his cheekbone, I pulled away only to quickly give him 2 small pecks on his lips before I fully pulled away looking over his puffy face “i love you” I whispered as I wiped the tears of his face and leaned my forehead against his closing our eyes.

Staying there saying sweet nothings to each other, enjoy each other’s presence we leaned against the wall the bed was next to looking into each other’s eyes,

we sat up straight as we heard the lock on the door open, “Young R your visiting time is over for today” said the nurse standing in the doorway with a tired smile on her face “oh um, okay” l quietly answered as I was about to stand I could feel Jonathans grip on my hand tighten “please don’t go” he whispered as he hid his face into my arm, I sat back down and carefully grabbed his face “I’ll be back in a week or two Jonny, I promise” I whispered as i caressed his face looking into his eyes “okay” he said as he let go of my hand as I pulled him into a hug “love you” I whispered and he whispered it back as I pulled away and stood up giving his hand a goodbye squeeze as I let go and walked towards the nurse who was patiently waiting for me.

I gave Jonathan one last good look for a while as the nurse closed and locked the door, “alright I’ll just walk you out then-” the nurse started before a man walked up behind me “don’t worry miss ill take care of this one” the voice of the warden said as he put a hand on my shoulder, the nurse mumbled a okay before scurrying away and i turned to look at the man behind me, “this way” he said as we started walking down the corridors.

“Young R it was lovely having here but i think your time visiting here is done” he said casually as we were walking, i stopped dead in shock “what?” i ask as he stops walking and turned to look at me “you are not allowed to visit anyone in this asylum anymore” he said as he turned back and continued walking, i hurried up to him “I've put you on our blacklist, so if you ever come on our grounds again after today you'll be escorted out by security” he said as we can see the exit, “w- wait what?” I ask in disbelief as I quickly looked up at the warden “you can’t do that” I mumble “Yes I can for the well-being of my patient, he’s been getting worse and worse every time you’ve visited him, so I have to stop your contact with Young Crane” he said in an monotone voice with an unsettling look in his eyes “I’ve been making him worse?” I whisper apparently loud enough for warden to hear “That’s correct, now you must leave and don’t come back unless you want security to deal with you” he said nudging me towards the exit, “Goodbye now Young R, and I really do hope you respect our choices, for Jonathan’s sake” he said standing by the exit opening the door, still in shock i stare at him my brows burrowed and slowly nodded as I took a breath and walked out of the Asylum not fully processing the fact I won’t be able to see Jonathan anymore or at least not for long.

The Warden watched as R left with a smirk on his lips and turned to go to Jonathan’s room for his ‘punishment’.

#Jonathan Crane #gotham jonathan crane #gotham!jonathan crane #gotham jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane imagine #gotham!scarecrow #scarecrow gotham #scarecrow dc #scarecrow x reader #batman scarecrow #dc scarecrow #gotham #gotham x reader #gotham fanfiction #jonathan crane fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic

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viscountessevie · 2 years

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I think we need to respect that Simone is a private person, and Bridgerton was her workplace. I am private and don’t share much of myself with colleagues. People probably think I’m a snob. I don’t mean to be, but sharing is just not in my comfort zone. I’ve kind of gotten that vibe from the Bton oddness. Whatever it is, SA is an adult. She works. She doesn’t need to be effusively close with co-workers.

Okay so I'm pausing 'grave dancing' (as Rahul Kohli puts it) for a moment and we're back to our usual programming!

So I put these all together - though I was going to end with the very top one because I honestly have nothing to add and it pretty much sums up how I feel about the whole thing - because they are all very similar in sentiment as to how Simone is very professional, private and has been in the industry for a while and is doing just fine.

Pretty much I have nothing to add on that front and am letting all these anons speak for themselves!

The last two are also very similar for the cast feeling protective of CC which I understand we're all trying to make sense of their social media behaviour but I really think we should just stop you guys. They already made their bed and decision on who to 'support' in a sense of their likes and comments, that's on them.

I just want to sum up my last post on this with these poignant quotes and points all my anons on this post brought up:

Anon 1: I think we need to respect that Simone is a private person, and Bridgerton was her workplace. I’ve kind of gotten that vibe from the Bton oddness. Whatever it is, SA is an adult. She works. She doesn’t need to be effusively close with co-workers.

Anon 2: Simone Ashley is an adult who has survived in a tough industry this long. She’s doing fine. We all need to remember that.

Anon 3: Simone seems to be not as active and keeps it strictly professional.

And of course the main point I’ve been parroting across all my posts and of course this is all of your choices to do so and I am no way policing your Internet time, just some good ole advice from your Non-Binary Pal:

Time to set a firm boundary with yourselves to Not look at the cast’s social media activities (likes and comments)

It’s their business who they want to hype up with their likes and comments, I cannot give a single fuck anymore I already know where they stand so no point bringing it anymore in my opinion. Also on top of all the dramas we get every day (did yall see Regé’s post yall?? Just wait I have a post coming on that!), we do not need add this to that.

[Got a little long; direct replies to Anon 1 & 3 along with me setting a new boundary on this blog below!]

[Let’s all just look at JQ making a fool of herself again - did yall see this dumbass repost a bookshop doing their best labelling all the books with the spouses BUT THEN FUCKED UP WITH GREGORY AND PUT HERMIONE INSTEAD OF LUCY??? JQ’s laundry list is getting too long I don’t think I can keep enough to make that recap post kjshhasd.]

Before I end this off I want to reply directly to Anon 1&3 (cos 2 you said all there is so thank you so much for your ask!):

To Anon 1 - Babess you’re just private and I promise you’re not snobby at all! If your co-workers think that, that’s on them! I dunno when we all got to a point where everything needs to be shared everywhere tbh. Life and Film School especially has lately been teaching that I need more boundaries in my life between the different parts - hell even on here.

To Anon 3 - Her new projects are coming babes!!! I think once TLM starts promo and she can talk about it more, more of her projects are gonna be announced. You know what they say, when it rains it pours. As for ‘angel bean’ Jonny, I do like him and admire his work,,, I realised something that I will address in the Regé post but let’s just say that the realisation has made me side eye the extent of his support of Simone. I still like him - not so much love anymore but yeah again learning to engage with celebs a normal amount. I’ll talk more about it in a bit!

Anyways ending this with boundaries: I hope you guys find it in you to want to set the boundary I said above ^^ and as for me I would like to set a new boundary as well. As much as I want to listen to all of your views and asks, I am extremely burnt out by CC asks so I please ask that we no longer discuss her on this blog. Yes, I’ll reblog an odd photoshoot of her or an Eddie gif when I’m missing Bookwina but I don’t really wanna talk about her via asks! [Everything I’ve wanted to say on my stance on her is in this masterpost as well as this previous ask where I mention I still do admire her as an actress.]

Oh and comparison asks like the string of these that we had over this week. I have said multiple times, I hate hate comparing them. CC getting the hype doesn’t diminish our love for Simone or her talent!!

Thanks for reading yall and for sending these asks in! Hope you understand my new boundary and respect it!!

#Bridgerton #Bridgerton Cast #Bridgerton Fandom #Simone Ashley #Bridgerton Asks #IG Boundary-gate

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jeeperso · 2 years

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D&D Quotes Without Context

Ravenloft edition, Har-Akir arc, part 3

"Well, off to go tomb raiding once more. Let's hope the traps weren't made by a sadist.” “Oh, Nyx. You sweet summer child.”

"The local monsters no better than to attack a Vistani caravan, but we'll be on our own.” “We can make a few examples. They’ll learn about us fast. Just remember to leave a survivor.”

"At least it isn't vorpal rabbits. Stupid idiot just had to use magic to crossbreed rabbits with wolves.” “And that's what hand held explosives are for.”

"Suffer not The Love Guru to live…"

"Fear not children, hope has arrived! Why? Because WE ARE HERE!”

GM: The ogres are now moving in slow motion. OOC: BGM All-Star at .05 speed.

GM: Actually wait not. You catch the guy int he knee. He starts screaming. Edmund: "Ill fix that! I'm a doctor!” Jonni: “Stop crying! We’re rescuing you!”

Poom shoots the non-groveling one with a ray made of clocks. Nyx: ”Ewww, Poom, did you have to rot the ogre? Couldn't you have done some other form of damage so it doesn't explode in a shower of guts when that damaged?” Edmund: ”Apparently Ogres become more juicy with age.... “ Poom: "Only if you store it wrong.”

Jonni stands in mid air. “Here! Let me show you a big … bang… kind of atta… fuck it, fireball!”

“I AM THE GODDES OF HELLFIRE AND MOLASSES! AND I BRING YOU THE GIFT… OF FIRE!”

Gorbash: “It's Ogres, My Great Uncle always said they're often too stupid to realize they're already dead.” Jonni: “They are. Torm the Almost Unbeatable was nearly killed when one kicked him after he cut its head off. That was a good solstice festival.”

“I’d say you can take a bite out of them, but Ogres taste like crap.” Poom: "You have to pickle them first.”

"Easy now... Let me look you over... I think. You have an arrow to the knee.”

Azathoth: "Giant rubies are never a good thing.”

OOC: Oh, shit, it’s Akio Ohtori! Don’t get in any cars with him!

OOC: Put some sand in there. Maybe a helmet made from a skull.

“I, sir, am a Paladin. It is my sworn duty to keep the innocent from harm.” “He is. Trust me. It’s almost gotten us killed.” “Please, all of our virtues or vices have nearly gotten us killed at some point.”

The circus tent that walks like a man's heavy iron tread echoes through the halls.

Edmund: ”Which... might be quite..... Deadly. Assassins are rather known for it. “ Jonni: “I mean, so am I.”

OOC: DREAM WARRIORS ASSEMBLE!

The streets are empty, the buildings are basically empty shells like the set of a stage play. “Is there still booze?”

As you look around, you hear singing in the distance, along with the dragging of something. “Yeah, yeah, creepy dream demon 101.”

"Mouth eyes, cute. I've seen worse in my own nightmares.”

The ruby is gone, in its place is a deck of cards. Gorbash slaps Eddie's hand instinctively.

Poom: "I'm not sure I dream any more so much as have 'enforced family time’."

"Are you guys still in town? What happened?” “Minor delay, unrelated cursed nightmare shit. Nothing you need worry about.” "Right yeah, I forgot you guys are addicted to the side quests. Alright carry on.” “Yeah having a functioning conscience can be inconvenient.”

Jonni: “I think I can see the curvature of time, guys.”

Jonni flies back and does her sexy Identify dance on the wagon.

"DOG! I HAVE BEEN IMPRISONED IN THIS ACCURSED BOTTLE FOR 500 YEARS, I VOWED TO SLAY THE FIRST LIVING BEINGS I SAW WHEN I EXITED AND THAT SHALL BE YOUuuuu…" He lowers his scimiter and looks at Jonni. Then at her bottle. Then he quickly bows.

"I am the duke of boiling rage, hurler of 10,000 curses, collector of 10,00 skulls, who has brought low everyone who has insulted me.” "Your haircut is very fancy!” "Thank you.”

SANDSTORM! OOC: I had that book.

OOC: No fair! I’m using Mon-Ra in Spelljammer! Their the unholy spawn of Mum-Ra and Mon-Starr.

Jonni: “Their last name is ‘Golzana?’ I could have been making fun of that this whole time?!?”

OOC: FUCK THAT! JONNI NEEDS HER EYES FOR LOOKING AT TITTIES!

OOC: Also, bold of you to assume Jonni’s cylindrical shaped vessel has been a bottle.

“Mistress, can I chop this ones hands off? He wont leave my flask alone.” "No. I need my hands. For Reasons!”

Jonni: “Efreet don’t get powers from bottles. They only get into them at all for weird sex stuff.”

#dungeons and dragons #dnd 5e #quotes without context #ravenloft #har-akir #sandman #special guest villain #the corininthian

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christopblog · 1 year

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CHRIS 2022 TOP 10 ALBUMS

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

Carly Rae Jepsen - The Loneliest Time

She's back baybee! Though it grew on me significantly, her previous 2019 album Dedicated was a bit of a let down after I'd gotten really into EMOTION. The Loneliest Time doesn't come close to EMOTION, but I might like it better than Dedicated, this is a really great helping of extremely catchy pop without too many misses. More of an even, consistent good without major highlights though. Western Wind, and Go Find Yourself Or Whatever are the best.

Weyes Blood - And in the Darkness, Hearts Aglow She's back baybee! One of the most unique vocalists out there, I was very excited for Ms. Blood's follow up album to her excellent 2019 Titanic Rising and was not let down! Though maybe slightly weaker, Hearts Aglow brings incredible songwriting, excellent instrumental production, and more of her iconic voice and singing style. Very pretty, if you like Baroque pop/chamber folk or whatever the fuck genre she is check it out. Opening track and God Turn Me Into a Flower are the highlights.

The Smile - A Light For Attracting Attention

He's back babyee! Featuring pioneer sadboy Thom Yorke and guitarist Jonny Greenwood, The Smile looks, feels, and sounds exactly like what it is, half of Radiohead. And since Yorke is in that half, that's honestly good enough for a pretty excellent album. Not quite Radiohead tier, maybe better than some of their weaker releases. Radiohead 2!

Florence + The Machine - Dance Fever She's back, baybee! This one was pretty close to cracking the top 10, I think this is Florence's strongest release since HBHBHB, and wayyyyy better than High as Hope. This is definitely her Bovid album, creating a much more intimate atmosphere than some of her previous, more grand releases, and I think the introspection really suits her. Getting to see a lot of these songs live also helped, what a fucking great concert. Cassandra, Free, and My Love are the best, but honestly there are very few misses.

Hikaru Utada - Bad Mode

They're back, baybee! This is definitely their Bovid album, creating a much more intimate atmosphere than some of their previous, more grand releases, and I think the introspection really suits them. It's funny that I get to just copy and paste that, because strangely it fits both of these albums very well. I think this is easily Hikki's best in years, I really love some of the longer ballads that have extended instrumental sections. Somewhere Near Marseilles clocks in at kino length aka 11:54, legendary stuff.

Big Thief - Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe in You

The bit doesn't fit for this one unfortunately it's a band. This is easily the most hot and cold release on this list, this fucker is 80 minutes, and I think some of the weaker cuts could have been left off the table for a tighter album experience. Adrienne Lenker continues to prove herself one of the best songwriters alive right now though, and while this is not nearly as tight as her solo project from 2020, some of that brilliance shines through in a few tracks. Time Escaping, Little Things, and Simulation Swarm are some of the best songs of the entire year, seriously, go check them out. Folk's in a good place with them at the top, tbh. TOP 10 ALBUMS OF 2022:

10. Hatchie - Giving the World Away

This album feels deeply nostalgic for a certain sound and era of pop, somewhere in the 90s, and I can feel that despite having not really listened to much music in that era. What really elevates this album is the production and mixing, which is just fucking phenomenal. Jangly reverbed guitars, synths, and Hatchie's great vocals create this layered, harmonic, blissful pop that I cannot get enough of. This is one of those albums you just throw on and vibe to hard the whole time, zero skips, all gas. I'm very excited to see what she'll make in the future, she's clearly extremely talented. Track highlights: Lights On, This Enchanted, Quicksand, The Key, Til We Run Out of Air. Common Australia W

9. Naked Flames - Miracle in Transit

I get in the mood for house music sometimes, especially for late night gaming sessions, or when I'm working on some kind of creative project. House provides something that I can throw on and not pay attention to the nuances of the track, but let them sort of wash over me and impress the themes and ideas over time. This album was literally so good I kept stopping what I was doing to jam out to the beats, this goes fucking ridiculous. It's like the soundtrack to some indie game that was never released from the early 2000s, games like Sonic are a clear inspiration. If you're into electronic music game soundtracks, you absolutely have to give this album a spin, I'm looking at both of you Juan and Claire. Probably my biggest single recommend for both of you. If you want a test, throw on Pan Matsuri or Visiting Corners. I'm literally skimming through the songs right now and popping off at how good the grooves and beats are on this thing, it's so textured and layered and delightful.

8. Alvvays - Blue Rev

So, I think I listened to their extremely popular sophmore album Antisocialites a few years ago because I have it rated on RYM, but I never saved any of the songs, I think I liked it okay but it didn't leave much of an impression. So, suffice it to say I was surprised when this new one blew me the fuck away. This is superb indie pop. A great mix of noise, with some shoegaze thrown in there too, wonderful guitar playing, and top notch songwriting. I think one complaint would be that the songs tend to blend together in my mind, there's a similar sound throughout the album, but that sound is a good sound so that doesn't end up being a problem for me. Even despite that, there are a few melodies that really sink into my brain and get lodged there, like Many Mirrors, and Tile by Tile. Belinda Says is an incredible piece of songwriting, too. I think I was a little hotter on this after the first listen than I have been since revisiting it, which is why it's lower on the overall list, still, don't miss it if you like this kind of stuff.

7. The Beths - Expert in a Dying Field

What's that? Oh, it's the sound of the Beths cementing themselves as one of my favorite bands of all time with another stellar album. Crazy, they just keep doing it, huh! This band has a real talent for a style of quirky, witty, deadpan lyrics that trend melancholic in a way that somehow hits me directly in the feelings every time. This is likely due to their knack for writing music that elevates the lyrics emotionally in a way that I really don't experience with many other acts. Power pop at it's finest, I adore Elizabeth Stoke's voice and could listen to it forever, but the rest of the band backing vocals lead to some amazing harmonies too. Using a pretty simple rock band structure, they like to lean into different styles like punk, ballads, and just good old fashioned rock'n'roll too. I hope they keep this up, and I'm very excited to see them in concert in March. (this is still probably my least favorite album of the three so far, but it's close, they're all amazing) extremely common new zealand W

6. Kessoku Band - Self Titled

Do not let your eyes deceive you, this is not an anime soundtrack, this is a proper J-rock album from Bocchi and the band. I just want to point out that Tricot did release an album this year, which was good, but did not make my list. This made my list. If this was a real band releasing their debut J-rock album I would be praising them as one of the best new groups coming out of Japan, and I promise I mean that genuinely and not just because I gave Bocchi the anime a 10. It's admittedly difficult to separate my enjoyment of these songs from their appearances in the anime, but I maintain that without context I would like this music just as much, it's very my shit. This is genuinely amazing songwriting, a full album's worth of catchy bangers, zero skips, and listen to Bocchi fucking shred dude!! that's MY guitarhero. I also absolutely have to shout out the track カラカラ, which was written by Ikkyu, the lead guitarist and singer of Tricot. This song is literally just a Tricot song performed by Kessoku Band, and is probably my favorite unofficial Tricot song of the year, beating out all the real ones they released. anyway, season 2 when? Especially if it means I get more of this.

5. Vylet Pony - Can Opener's Notebook: Fish Whisperer

It is time to post cringe! I have ascended past cringe, this is so good that I no longer am capable of feeling cringe! Praise be! Seriously though, I mostly included Vylet's last album Cutiemarks and the Things That Bind Us at the 10th spot on my list last year as a meme, Little Simz probably deserved it for her album. Not to disparage Cutiemarks, I think it's amazing, I still listen to it all the time, but all of this is to say that, clearly, I don't need to dedicate a meme slot to a horse album this year. This thing deserves its spot here, 1000%. Fish Whisperer is a narrative concept album that tells a story about a marine biologist horse that leaves home to pursue her dream of becoming a musician, and juggling that dream with her work which she also loves. It's a surprisingly compelling narrative that flows well from song to song, you could probably miss it if you're not paying close attention, or if you don't read the blurb Vylet put on her bandcamp page, but I think it makes some of the songs hit harder. Even after such a short period of time, this album shows some serious improvement on Cutiemarks, with much better lyricism and songwriting, which was probably my biggest issue. Her production continues to be stellar, but evolves into something even greater, offering some of my favorite pieces of electronic music of all time. Vylet is stupidly talented, showcasing singing, guitar playing, rock and roll, and phenomenal EDM/indietronica skills too. It's fucked up how good this album is guys, I really cannot sing its praises enough. If you want a sample, listen to the three song run from The Yak Song to Typewriter, or maybe just Fish Whisperer. 2nd best horse album of all time.

4. De todas las flores - Natalia Lafourcade

Okay, I have to do a disclaimer here, I have listened to this album all the way through 1 time. It came out pretty recently, and I saw a lot of buzz, so I finally got around to it a few weeks ago and was extremely impressed, but I don't have nearly a good enough handle on it to evaluate it as fairly against some of the other albums on here. Real Fantano heads in the chat probably know that this was his AOTY, and I really can't fault him for that choice even if there were a few more I liked more. This album is a powerhouse, just phenomenal, jazzy singer songwriter latin music. Incredible instrumentation and production, I think this one has a lot of depth that I'll be unpacking for a while. Maybe I'll come back and rearrange the order as I listen to this one more, but this is where it slots in mostly out of sheer respect over familiarity.

3. Black Midi - Hellfire

Okay, as we get into the top 3 I want everyone to know that these three albums are close to interchangeable, it was very, very hard to rank them against each other. Especially spots number 3 and 1, which are frequently compared to and pitted against each other because they're both recent sensations in the underground rock scene in the UK, and have released albums around the same time twice now. I liked Cavalcade when it came out, I was really impressed with the crazy instrumentation and great singing, but wasn't quite blown away like everyone else was. Then we get Hellfire. Holy shit. This is fucking Prog baby, but it's twisted and evil and new and exciting, I have literally never heard anything like this album before in my life. The speed at which the playing can change on you at the turn of a hat is a little mind-boggling, and the bombastic playing is matched by Geordie Greep's one of a kind voice, which I think is the only style that could ever go with this kind of music. What unfolds is a descent into Hell, through narrative driven prog tracks covering all kinds of sin and debauchery, of war and death, soliders, love, lust, prostituation, racing, and one of the best closing tracks I've ever heard in my life. The theatrics are turned up to 12, it really does feel like I'm watching some kind of stage play while listening to this. Also, I cannot praise Greep's singing enough, his voice surprises you after all the raucous shouting to reveal he's got one like, a nearly operatic, angelic voice when he wants to bust it out. Some of the best parts of the album are when he does both on the same track, like in Sugar/Tzu. The vocal work on The Race Is About To Begin is probably the single most impressive performance this year, and maybe this decade so far. Writing this is making me think maybe this is my AOTY so I need to stop before it all gets mixed up. Logan listen to this or I will kill you in real life.

2. Silvana Estrada - Marchita

Originally my number 1 spot, like, I literally wrote out the Ants From Up There blurb and then changed my mind, don't let any of that detract from this album. What an incredible piece of music, Silvana is has one of my favorite voices out there, the way she flawlessly delivers each lyric, shifting from pitch to pitch is mesmerizing. This is obviously right up my alley, singer songwriter folk is one of my favorite genres, if my Ichiko Aoba addiction didn't make that obvious. Even if I was predisposed to like this, I still fell in love with this album over the course of this year, revisiting these intimate songs that mostly consist of her singing and guitar playing, occasionally joined by other instruments, all of which is flawless. This album is also special to me, because it was one of the first pieces of music I really connected to Elli with. Our tastes don't always line up very well, but she got just as into her as I did this year, and sharing that with her for what felt like the first time was extremely cool. Not much more to say, this thing is just beautiful front to back.

1. Black Country, New Road - Ants From Up There

This was easily my most anticipated album of 2022. After their breakout debut last year, For The First Time which has ascended to favorite status very quickly, I was excited to see what new tom foolery this group would get up to. Unfortunately, just as the album released, we got news that the lead singer Isaac Wood would be leaving the band, cutting short what could have been an incredibly promising career. I'm not sure how much of that decision was looming on his mind as he and the band wrote this album, but somehow it feels like the swan song that it ended up being, a much more emotionally driven, bittersweet, loving, lonely thing than their first. The band's incredible instrumental talent is back on full display, outshining even my favorite performances on FTFT somehow, which is a gargantuan achievement. There are multiple points listening to this album where I tear up a little bit, it's just so heartwrenching. This group is so fucking talented, and they're bringing their best on every single track, especially Isaac, who's singing and vocals continue to floor me. This album is an artistic achievement, a modern classic, that, I think will be remembered long past this year, or even this decade. I'm still excited to see what the band does without Isaac in the future, as he's hardly the only member, but it'll be different. And that's okay, I think. What a way to go out. And that’s it, it was a very good year for music! Thanks for reading if you did, I had fun writing this!

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the25thviolence · 2 years

Text

Summer Time Madness Part 7

I don’t usually do this kind of thing but I’ve been feeling a little desperate lately. Since I had to deal with being laughed at to my face every time I asked someone I mite as well go thru with it. Its not like I can save face anymore.

And with that bit of a sad excuse for a mental pep talk from Jonny, myself, lets begin this hopeful story.

Cliche backstory. I was getting lonely and asked my friends to help setup blind dates for me. So I kept ending up at these generic coffee shops. You know, safe public places where people could disappear out of the situation five minutes into it. I’m “down three goals” so far and I’m stuck in the penalty box with two minutes left.

I look down at the text I just received from last friend to send this potential disaster blind date survivor my way.

Trust the process and your team will pull you thru

“Joel Embiid ain’t walking thru that door buddy”

I sure hope not. He’s a 10 and an MVP candidate. He may play for the 76ers but he’s still way out of your league

Little surprised by the response but its nice to know my friend is open minded.

“Lets do this.” said Jonny with as much confidence as someone who had already lost multiple times before stepping into this coffee shop.

As I got in line I thought out loud to myself.

“What the heck is a Blood---.” said Jonny before suddenly being cut off by two overeager baristas.

“Hello!” shouted Bell and Nikki in unison as they greeted Jonny.

“Hell--?” said Jonny trying to respond but being unable to get a word in this one sided conversation.

“Welcome to--” said Bell.

“The Coffee Shop.” continued Nikki causing them to look at each other in confusion.

“We were suppose to say it at the same time.” said Bell in slight anger.

“Well I said it on time.” said Nikki while rolling her eyes and throwing her hair back dramatically

“Whatever. ANYWAYS! Please come this way Jonny to place your order.” said Bell with a smile gesturing Jonny towards a counter shrouded in darkness.

“How do you know---” and Jonny was cut off again.

“Don’t you worry about that you little cutie patootie.” said Nikki while gently shoving Jonny forward as Bell started to pull him forward.

“Place your order.” said Bell with a smile before disappearing.

“And enjoy.” said Nikki with a smile before disappearing. Leaving Jonny in front of a dark and shadowy counter.

“Uhh--” began Jonny. But this bit continues for a bit. Not too long of a bit though.

Than the menu suddenly turned on.

And a spotlight turned on over the cookies.

And over the coffee makers and coffee cups.

Than lastly but not least.

Right overtop the cash register and the barista running it.

Her name was Claire and she was beaming as bright as the sun.

Royalty existing before Jonny’s eyes.

“Uhh I’ll take one Blood Red Cinnamon Ripper.” ordered Jonny while staring up at the menu.

If only for a moment you could see the sun itself exploding in Claire’s eyes.

“Anything else sir?” said Claire with a forced smile.

“Oh! And A Sea Salt Caramel Cookie please.” said Jonny looking down at the Barista with nametag that said “Claire” for the first time.

“Right away sir. Please have a seat and will bring it out to you.” said a now genuinely smiling Claire.

“Thanks.” said Jonny while glancing at Claire with confusion for a moment. Uncertain with the whole ordeal and process of ordering coffee at this strange coffee shop. He would have to text his friend about it later on. But that would be later because now he had to go sit down.

“Don’t worry were just getting started!” said Bell as she dramatically came out of the shadows behind Claire.

“He won’t know what hit him.” said Nikki dryly while also dramatically walking out of the shadows behind Claire. And also making a punching motion with her fist into her other open hand.

“Here, go take his over to him.” said Bell while handing the Blood Red Cinnamon Ripper and Sea Salt Caramel cookie to Claire while giving Nikki a skeptical look. of worry.

“You got this.” said Nikki while her and Bell shoved Claire from out behind the counter. Causing her to stumble in her heels which she just realized she was wearing.

“What....” said Claire looking at her feet.

Bell and Nikki gave her a thumbs up while aggressively gesturing Claire to keep walking toward Jonny’s lone table underneath the spotlight in the middle of the coffee shop.

“I have your order for you sir.” said Claire while staring down at her feet holding out the Blood Red Cinnamon Ripper and Sea Salt Caramel cookie.

“Thank you?” replied Jonny while taking his Blood Red Cinnamon Ripper and Sea Salt Caramel cookie

“Your welcome?” said Claire while still waiting next to the table staring down at her feet.

The silence was everlasting, overly long, and quite boring if I can be honest. Of course I can. The silence was long. Jonny stared down at his Blood Red Cinnamon Ripper and Sea Salt Caramel cookie. While Claire continued staring down at her feet wondering why she was wearing heels at work. Somewhere in the shadows the puppeteers of today’s story grew tired of waiting in silence.

“You look a little lost.” whispered Bell while stepping out of the shadows while grabbing one string of Claire’s barista apron.

“Don’t worry we got your back.” whispered Nikki while stepping out of the shadows and grabbing the other string of Claire’s barista apron.

Together they spun Claire into a whirlwind causing her barista apron to disappear and revealing a pretty girl in a little red dress that was far too much for a work place environment. Well I guess in this situation the little red dress was too little for this work environment. As Claire stopped spinning her hair unraveled from her work ponytail showcasing a flood of dark brown hair perfectly showcasing her wonderful blue eyes.

Bell and Nikki “gently” pushed Claire into the chair across from Jonny.

“Goodluck.” whispered Bell with a smile before disappearing back into the shadows.

“If this doesn’t work can I have a try?” whispered Nikki with a smile before disappearing back into the shadows.

The silence lingered for a moment. Just a moment though. Not too long of a moment.

“Do I know you?” finally stuttered out Jonny while looking up from his Blood Red Cinnamon Ripper and Sea Salt Caramel cookie and taking a long focused stare at Claire who suddenly looked like a different person.

“Umm not really. Usually people on blind dates don’t know each other before meeting.” said Claire while twirling her hair anxiously hoping this whole ordeal would work out.

“Oh.” replied Jonny.

“Yeah.” followed up Claire.

The silence came back for a moment. A random cookie flew out of the shadows and hit Claire in the back of the head. The silence went away.

“I’m Claire by the way.” said Claire.

“I’m Jonny.” said Jonny.

Claire took a deep breath and smiled at Jonny.

Jonny smiled back.

“I feel a little underdressed for this.” laughed Jonny.

“Same.” laughed Claire.

Jonny and Claire smiled at each other again.

They smiled at each other for a bit. Not too long of a bit. But not too short of a bit. This bit mite be going on for too long of a bit though.

“Now that we know each other how do we know each other?” asked Jonny.

“Friend of a friend of a friend.” smiled Claire while leaning forward with her elbows on the table.

“Is that so.” smiled Jonny while leaning back in his chair.

“It is.” replied Claire while looking Jonny directly in the eyes with her own piercing blue eyes.

“I love my friends.” laughed Jonny.

“As you should.” said Claire with her brightest smile.

Jonny’s smile suddenly broke as he threw his head back laughing.

“How much did they have to pay?” asked Jonny with sudden anger.

“What?” said Claire as her elbows slipped from the table in shock.

“There is no way this is real right now. I mean look at you. If your a ten I’m a negative twenty seven.” glared Jonny.

“I’m sorry I can change.” replied a now panicking Claire looking around for her barista apron.

“No no its ok. This just lets me know how desperate my friends think I am.” said a now fully angry Jonny as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and began texting someone.

“I’m not some kind of hooker.” replied Claire with some anger herself.

“What? No, no, you have to be some kind of paid actor. Just no way your real right now.” said Jonny who had now focused his anger on his phone while standing up.

“I promise you I am very much real. I’m alive. I have free will.” said Claire while reaching her hands out toward Jonny.

“I just don’t think this is the right decision. I’m sorry. Your lovely but I’m going to check on some things right now.” said Jonny before he turned and walked out the coffee shop.

Claire fell forward onto the table face first, giving up in life.

“Oh I’m so sorry Claire!” said Bell from behind Claire.

Claire uprooted her face from the table just enough to stare at the Blood Red Cinnamon Ripper that Jonny left on the table.

“What was that Blood Red Cinnamon Ripper?” asked Claire.

“She’s delusional now.” said Nikki from behind Claire.

“And you too Sea Salt Caramel cookie?” said Claire while staring at the Sea Salt Caramel cookie that Jonny left on the table.

“Hey now there’s always next time!” said Bell while rubbing Claire’s back trying to console her.

“Yeah, its not over yet.” said Nikki while rubbing Bell’s back trying to console Claire.

Bell gave Nikki a weird look.

Nikki stopped.

“Its over.” cried Claire while planting her face back into the table.

“Its not over till--” started Bell while snapping her fingers causing a fizzled sound and some smoke to come from her fingers.

“Go again--oh this is actually cool.” said Nikki while snapping her fingers causing several sparks to come from her fingers.

Claire sighed.

Claire raised her right hand into the air

Claire snapped her fingers.

SNAP

Part 8

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almadelsur · 2 years

Note

I'm just thinking about Frank as bestfriend's dad doing nasty things to me🥲I'm going to cry

okay but nonnie this- this is the one I’ve been waiting for. Y’all don’t understand how much I think abt shit like this and dads bsf! Frank just do things to me honestly (mainly because of the age gap between myself and jonny b but shhh) 🤤

So let’s just real quick age lil Lisa Castle wayyyyy up and just picture for a moment that Frank and Maria had her v v v v young let’s say around 17, so that the age gap isn’t too creepy :’) and that Frank and Maria were separated before she died so y’know it makes sense. !! 18+ Below !!

You didn’t grow up in New York so you didn’t get to meet Lisa, and by default Frank, until you were on the cusp of 20. As soon as you and Lisa met though, you became inseparable, always together, always laughing, instant best friends. You were way edgier than her, it would have been far too easy to assume that it had simply been due to the 2 year age gap between you but in reality you had something inside you that you couldn’t quite comprehend, something twisted and hungry. It didn’t put you in Maria’s best books, her preconceptions of you as an older bad influence for her daughter were set in stone before she even met you.

You first met Frank during Lisa’s 18th birthday gathering, and although you would have never admitted it to yourself back then, something inside you had been itching to meet him ever since you accidentally swiped on a family photo when Lisa was showing you whatever meme she had been raving about on her phone. Lisa was the spitting image of her mother, hardly any Castle features had developed on her face, so when you saw the picture you couldn’t help but stare. “Who’s that?” You’d asked her to which she responded in that same blatantly obvious tone she’d often take with you “That’s my dad”. Always the confident force of nature and certainly one to speak your truth you looked at the girl and without missing a beat shrugged out a “Lis I would legitimately fuck your dad.” The sentence had come off jokingly, yet despite the playful half-disgusted laughter that ensued and the slap on your arm that you had received, there had been nothing but truth behind your words.

But back to your first meeting. The second you extended your hand for him to shake, you felt something in you change. The way he held your eye contact as he shook your hand awoke something in you that half-scared you with a deliciously curious fright. “It’s nice to finally meet you, mister Castle.” It takes Frank a moment longer than intended to let go of your hand, he doesn’t know if it’s the way you nibble down on your lip after you adress him or the way that every thing about you just screams trouble like a big red neon sign above your head, but your words hit him with an imense sexual charge. His face gives nothing away, just his usual half frown accompanied by a gruff “You too, Lisa never stops talking about you.” When he finally drops your hand, you slowly push yourself past him, your shoulder brushing against his toned chest as you walk further indoors. “All good things I hope” you murmur to him before leaving him by the door, watching you walk away with a dizzy head from your intoxicating demeanour and fruity perfume. Throughout the rest of the day, Frank struggles to take his eyes off of you, he watches you from across the room as you laugh along with that skinny college freshman that Lisa had invited. You grip onto your cherry soda as you feign interest in the freshman’s story and when you bring that damn straw up to your needy mouth, he cant help but feel bad for the kid who clearly thinks he’s succeeding in his efforts to impress you. You’d eat the kid whole for breakfast and not give it a second thought, Frank thinks. You need someone who can handle you, someone like him. Frank would be able to keep you in line, take everything you’re offering without faltering and give you what you crave in the darkest parts of yourself that not even you knew about yet. He’d be able to teach you, he figures. Perceptive as ever, he sees the depth of your character before you’re even fully aware of it yet. He reads people, that’s his thing. And you? Shit he has you figured out right then and there. Behind your eyes is an animalistic desire you’re yet to let loose. He’d let you claw, bite and pounce whilst taming you with his thrusts. Something in him just knows that he’d be able to sedate you with his cock. Frank drowns his train of though with the rest of his beer, he has to force himself out of the room untrusting of his own lust. Later on that night, when he’s alone and safe to think freely within the confines of his room, he lets his mind wander back to you. The way you had smelled, the way your cherry stained lips had played around the tip of that straw, mister Castle. It wasn’t long before Frank had his cock in his hand pretending it was something better, pretending it was you.

The next morning he feels so guilty and sick that he can’t even look at his own daughter in the eyes. What would Lisa say if she knew what he’d been thinking about her best friend, what would you? Unbeknownst to Frank you had spent your evening doing the exact same thing he had. Moaning out at the thought of that unforgiving gaze staring down at you as he rips out orgasm after orgasm out of you.

As time goes by, you begin to think Frank actively dislikes you, you wander if you had crossed the line with him that first time. He keeps his distance whenever you’re around and hardly ever looks at you in the eyes whenever he does miraculously speak to you. He sets this dynamic pretty early on and whilst you despise the thought of things being that way, you accept it. Frank calls the shots and you follow, back then you didn’t realise how the meaning behind those words would change. Until one night.

Okay !! So I actually have a part 2 to this that I’m close to finishing but I got so impatient that I just had to post this !! Also big thank you to @theshamsandherzahraat for being an angel and giving me advice on this <3 And as always:

Send me your Frank Castle asks, concepts and thoughts!!

#frank castle #jon bernthal #the punisher #nina answers #anon ask #frank castle x reader #netflix punisher #bestfriend’s dad Frank castle #best friend’s dad frank castle #the punisher x reader #netflix marvel #frank castle headcanon #frank castle smut #frank stuff #frankstuff

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the-passenger-if · 3 years

Note

A prompt for the angst but!! How would the ros deal/treat/react to a newman that had frequent panic attacks? (If your comfortable answering, and no ones asked before) I imagine since the whole reason we're on earth is because we're trying to hide from this eldritch diety who wants to inhale us whole, and to top it all off newman doesnt even have enough energy to leave. That would cause any being an extreme of stress and anxiety. Especially after Tzr'nekre actually finally locates us

combining it with

if its not too spoilery, how would the ROs react to the MC waking up from a nightmare (say, one in which the RO got possessed by tzr'nekre?) and MC just clings to them, crying, after waking up, and refusing to explain but its obvious they had a terrible nightmare?

This isn’t what Fiama imagined when she was awaken by Newman’s warm face pressing against her breasts, ragged breathing and all. She wants to grab a hold of their head, hold them there, but as her hand brushes their cheek, she finds it damp. Maybe with sweat, maybe with tears.

“Baby?” she asks in a hushed whisper. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

The only reply she gets is a stuttering intake of breath. And then her partner’s arms are sneaking around her—one under her neck, the other around her waist—and Newman is squeezing her tight.

Fiama is strong, she has always been. Her mother once told her—not in kind terms—that she truly took after her father’s sisters; their arms, made to keep children from ripping one another’s eyes out, their legs to carry drunken husbands back home. Now, trapped in Newman’s strong embrace, she feels like the type of dainty, unobtrusive creature her mom wished she had grown into.

She takes a deep breath—as deep as she's able to within her lover’s tight grip—and tries again. “Babe… you’re… crushing me.”

The hold eases up an instant later, but Newman doesn’t let go. They bury their wet face in Fiama’s neck, still silent. It’s alarming to say the least, but she keeps her voice calm. “Are you hurting?” Newman shakes their head. “Are you sad?” She hugs them, feels them shaking in her arms—Newman doesn’t shake like this. “Are you scared?” She didn’t want to sound so flabbergasted (so ‘judgy’ her mother would say) but she can’t help it.

Once again, Newman doesn’t answer, but they do bury their face deeper into Fiama. It takes her by surprise; they have always seemed so unaffected by everything…

She hugs them tight and says the only thing she can think of, “I’m here, babe. And I’ll always be. I don’t know what or who is making you feel like this, but you aren’t alone. I’m with you.” She kisses the top of their head, murmuring every promise she knows she can keep.

A few minutes later, Newman is fast asleep again.

---

Sleeping next to another person in a bed that wasn’t made to be shared by two adults is uncomfortable, but it was late and Newman hadn’t brought their bike, ignoring that Joaquin’s car was at the shop, and Lucia had taken hers that night.

It’s ok, Jonny thinks to himself while he stares at the ceiling, we’ll just wait until my folks leave for work tomorrow. It doesn’t have to get awkward for anyone.

When was the last time he’d shared a bed? Probably when he was around twelve and Quino got scared by a storm and woke him up in the middle of the night, cold hands slipping under the sheets and touching the back of his neck. Dumbass always did the same thing, no matter how many times Jonny punched him to dissuade him. Of course Jonny could never stay mad at his twin for long, and they would share the bed in the end—Jonny grousing about Quino’s cold hands and Quino whining about Jonny hogging the covers.

As if invoking his brother, he feels hands around his neck now; cold, sweaty hands. Even though they don't belong to Quino, the way they’re clinging to him is pretty reminiscent of the way his twin used to squeeze him whenever lightning stroke too close.

“Are you ok?” he asks stupidly. Of course they aren’t; Newman is scared. “What is it?” he tries again, but Newman says nothing, they only keep tightening their grasp around Jonny. He takes their hands and tries to free himself. “Newman, you’re going to choke me.”

Slowly, those cold fingers loosen, giving him a chance to sit up.

“Don’t go!”

“Hush,” Jonny hisses. “Damn it, Newman. Remember we aren’t alone.” He takes the hand that is now gripping the front of his shirt and tries to hold it, but Newman doesn’t budge. “Please,” he whispers.

“Don’t go,” it’s the barely audible plea he gets as a reply.

“I won’t,” he assures them. After another second, Newman lets go, and Jonny takes the hand and gently rubs it between his. “Come here,” he whispers, and Newman doesn’t need to be told twice. They get between his legs and rest on their side and against Jonny’s chest. Jonny takes the covers and pulls them over both of them, and there, with an arm around Newman’s shoulder, he can feel their muscles begin to slowly relax.

---

Roach didn’t usually do this; lying down in bed while their conquests sleep. They had realized that there was so much one could do to pass the time, and watching people drooling was amusing just the first dozen times.

They turn another page of the magazine they stole from that gas station three towns over, the one with the old, balding clerk that had given Roach the evil eye from the moment they dared to set a foot in his territory.

The light is off but that’s ok because Roach doesn’t need it to read, the same way they don’t need it to sneak glances at Newman’s sleeping form. It’s something they do, they tell themself, to pass the time, and not because Newman’s face is nice to look at or anything like that. They aren’t expecting to find their companion awake the next time they look their way, least of all with a terrified look set on their face.

Roach opens their mouth to ask what’s going on, but the words die out as they are wrapped in a tight embrace. The fact that they were so distracted by Newman’s expression that their reflexes vanished for a hot minute, says something. Something Roach doesn’t want to acknowledge right now, so they don’t. Instead, they let their body go limp in Newman’s arms, let them squeeze and squash until they seem to come out of their trance.

“R-Roach?”

“Yes?” they ask in return.

“Are you… ok?”

Roach wriggles to put some distance between Newman and them—as much as their companion’s steel grip allows, anyway—and runs a hand over Newman’s face, wiping off the sweat. “Just a couple broken ribs,” they say, “I’ll live. What about you? What had you panicking like this?”

Newman retracts from those words like a shy snail. It really takes Roach by surprise. They can’t think of many things that might scare Newman, which at least makes the list of suspects quite short.

“Hey,” they whisper in a way that they hope sounds both unaffected and reassuring, “I would know, remember? There’s only you and me here, no third roommate. You can relax.”

Their words, true as they are, do very little to calm Newman down, so Roach sighs and nuzzles against their jaw. “Squeeze away then,” they mutter and kiss Newman’s skin. “I’ll be the prettiest stress ball you’ll ever have.”

---

It isn’t a gentle awakening. Horizon’s muddled thoughts crash into one another as the Domini unsuccessfully tries to slip away from the tight embrace they are being subjected to. What’s going on? their mind asks, half asleep, half panicking.

Memories from last night come back to them as if slogging through a swamp; they remember having dinner with Newman, chatting and somehow ending up in bed together. They remember the tenderness of the moment, the way they felt like they could melt as Newman and they cuddled together...

Horizon strains their neck trying to look over their shoulder, but even with the rays of moonlight seeping through the window, the only thing they have an eyeful of it’s their own dark curls. Newman’s chest is pressed against Horizon’s back and now that the Domini is fully awake, they can feel the other’s racing heartbeat. It scares Horizon, it makes them want to ask what’s going on, what happened to Newman, what, what, what…

They fight those urges. They take a deep breath, find one of Newman’s hands and softly cover it with theirs. “You are in my cabin,” they whisper, “you are in ranch 48, in Luna Ridge. We had diner and I asked you to spend the night. Remember that?”

There’s a long pause, then Horizon feels them nodding against their back. A couple seconds later the iron grip eases up. It gives the Domini a chance to turn around, and very gently press their forehead against Newman’s damp one. “Deep breaths,” they whisper and then are doing just that, hoping Newman will follow their example. An instant later, they are.

Feeling Newman’s muscles relax as they get their breathing under control brings a smile to the Domini’s face.

#ask #tp fiama #tp jonny #tp roach #tp horizon

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hmm-self-indulgence · 2 years

Text

Nikola Orsinov x Reader

Nikola’s pronouns are either she/her or they/them, also I use It once or twice so please don't be offended. The reader, if ever gendered, is only described as they/them. Kinda spoilers for season 1-3, I don’t bring up the unknownings result but I do mention the dance. Kinda Yandere but what else do you expect from a skin mannequin who murders people. Also im trying to mimic the style of Jonny’s writing in some bits so bear with me while I’m trying. Please let me know if there is something I forgot to tag. Honestly I might delete this bc while i worked on it for a long time in still not super confident in my writing so any and all feedback is appreciated.

TW: Nikola related shenanigans, skin stealing, depersonalization, reader has some self esteem issues, slight violence (not to reader), kinda Yandere content. Also, alliteration. In the end the reader gets murdered, but also not super surprised. Descriptions of slight gore.

No one has the permission to repost this on any website. I will not post these on other websites so if you see any of my writing on another site, let me know. Do not use my content or claim it as your own! I do not own these characters, they are made, owned and are the property of Johnathan Sims. I am in no way profiting off of this and this is made with full respect to Rusty Quill.

The two of you met rather strangely for a couple, not many can say they were hunted by their lover before they dated, but that only made you both closer. She wanted your skin once, but your shifting sense of shelf and sadness within your own skin spoke to her so she felt sympathetic. You weren’t saved, of course no one can be saved, but you were kept, held by shifting hands that hungered for your skin but left it on you.

You understand she has to change, but the name stays the same with your lover. Always Nikola, always yours, but never the same face for too long or it’s fingers itch to take yours. The voices say to take it, they would return it, give it back once they found a new one, they swear with desperate tones, but Nikola knows the truth. If they wore it it would become a slice of meat, and the flesh has no place near you, so they find another face to wear. It doesn't matter how brutal the removal is or how much it pains the victim, she does it for you.

She knew your sadness ran deeper than you let on, and the problem with skin is one that can be easily fixed in the circus. She offers you different faces but cares little when you refuse, more for her and the changing group of nameless things that follow her. Nikola has lived for over 200 years, and she isn't ready to lose you. Pieces of you had to be made unreal so Nikola could keep you, but she was careful to make sure You stayed You and not Them.

Traveling with the Circus of the Other is strange to say the least. The faceless followers will always leave you alone if they want to continue their existence, and there is a clear understanding that your fear is off the menu. That is not to say you are lonely, no no no. You are friends with them, you don’t know which one because their faces change ever so often and giving them their own names would make the faces useless, so they are all your friends. Friends made of a shifting group of pronouns and skin spread far too thin across what could be mistaken for bone but you are no fool, there has never been bone in them.

When it comes to their ‘performances,” screaming is just as common as laughter. Wooden and flesh bodies thrown in the air by Breeken and caught by Hope, and the occasional tightrope walker that hits the ground with a sickening crunch, leaving blood and body parts on the ground. Nikola hopes you will join in with the Circus, they would love to have you as a second ringmaster. If you refuse then violence is kept away from you, but you still see the bloodstains smeared in the tents and the fresh faces of the members.

You have your uses to their master, too. You don’t fear the Stranger, at least not anymore, but you are useful to inspire fear. In a sea of wrong faces, one that looks almost normal makes the others even more frightening. A taste of hope on their victims faces before they see that glint in your eyes that signals to them that you are just like the faceless ones, just as hungry.

Nikola thinks of you as she dances the world anew, and the performance was one of a lifetime. Every eye was on the unknowing and Nikola reveled the love she felt from the stranger. Your smile was the last thing she thought about in the world as it was.

#nikola orsinov #tma #Tma x reader #the magnus archives x reader #tma fanwork #tma fanfic #the stranger #the circus of the other #the unknowing #nikola orsinov x reader

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all-things-fic · 3 years

Text

Somewhere Only We Know

A/N - Hello, you lovely lot! Hope you are all keeping well in these utterly shit Covid times. Who would’ve thought that we would still be here in December?! Please see my offering for @goldenbluesuit‘s Christmas Fic Challenge. Hope I’ve done a bit of justice with this piece.

I can remember Katie texting me telling me about the challenge, and I’ll admit I was given first dibs and now I’m absolutely shitting myself because I’ve seen all the brillaint entries so far and I’m not sure I really cut the mustard with this piece but I’m proud of myself for being able to put a solid 70% of this together in just one day (that one day being today).

Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Katie has done a brilliant job and I know how grateful she is towards anyone who has joined the challenge or supported by reading/sharing etc.... I need to stop rambling... Okay, thank you for sticking with me as always and happy reading! .x

***

The last thing you remembered actually reading in the group chat was “make sure you have your wellies”. You were glad that you remembered that part at the very least.

Winds whipped around you as you buried your face further into your cream roll neck cable knit jumper, all but hidden underneath your tobacco borg teddy coat that someone had already likened to Macklemore.

Nothing like being back home with your closest and oldest friends.

Mud squelched under your feet as you walked in line with two of your oldest girl friends, eyes looking over the four males in front of you as they led the way over the grassy hills.

There had been zero planning on what today’s events would bring. It was quite clear that the seven of you just wanted to be reunited with the country air and wind bitten cheeks.

It was nice. How simple it was. On the surface at the very least. That was until you zoned in on the little things.

Like his laugh. The same laugh that always carried somehow and it seemed like the wind was making it that much more prominent than usual today.

There was no denying, he had this glow about him. Even from the back of him. You felt silly for thinking it, but it was true. It was in the way he held himself as he attacked the grassy hills with his feet clad wellies and brown trousers.

Life had changed a lot in over a decade. Christ, had it been that long? You’d all gone from baby teenagers to fully fledged adults. The age range of your friendship differing slightly, the odd person here and there slightly older than a couple of people in the group.

Nonetheless, many of the experiences had been the same. The big job offers, and the even bigger promotions. The heartbreaks, regardless of their prominence or lack of, had been the felt the same. The flirtation between some of you sparked probably a bit more so now with a finesse that didn’t have you rolling your eyes but rather leaning into it.

Four out of seven of you were single. Jack and Jonny were virtually married off, however neither of them were with their partners this year with both deciding to spend Christmas at home and New Years with their significant others. Alice was still loved up and going strong with her fella, as was Grace who you hadn’t heard a peep from as she constantly checked her phone to see when the person she was besotted with finally arrived up North thanks to West Midlands Trains pulling into Crewe.

So that left Will, you and Harry. Harry who had quite publicly made it known that he was single. Well, according to your Mum he had, in several interviews. Including the one that she had described as an ‘incredibly relaxing watch and nice background noise to my Sunday evening brew and ironing session’.

That was a strange one for you, his honesty. In earlier years of friendship, he always seemed quite aloof. Like he was keeping his options open. Guarded in a way that frustrated at least 75% of the friendship group, in the nicest way possible. You knew that was a contradiction but any annoyance came from a good place.

You remembered one night in 2014 when he wouldn’t quite give you a straight answer over tequila shots whether he was shagging someone or not. You also remember the way he’d been pulled away from you tactfully by Alice that night when she sensed how you were about to blow up at his lackadaisical attitude.

The same had been felt in 2016. Not so much in 2018, but you weren’t single then so maybe you just didn’t care.

2019 was significantly different though.

See the thing was, you knew him now. Like, knew knew him.

Some would think it was a lapse of judgment, a reading that you would agree upon given what had happened two days prior if ever prodded about it publicly.

Others would vehemently disagree. Stating how long any sort of energy between the two of you had been bubbling for a number of years.

Looking back you couldn’t even understand why you’d attended his show. You lived in Camden and it made sense, but that’s where the sense stopped. Even the ways he had reached out had been one of the most random messages you’d received from him

There was no context, just a simple ‘I’m playing the Electric Ballroom and there’s tickets waiting for you if you want ‘em.’

And the thing was, you loved that venue. The grungy-ness of it all. The way you had stuck to the floor while trying to dance along to the likes of The Hives and Kings of Leon when seeing them playing there, basking in your sweaty happiness.

But the stickiness of the floor and sweatiness of the room didn’t compare to the stickiness and sweatiness you later found yourself partaking in as Harry took you from behind over the side of his couch.

A shiver rolled through you at the thought, one that you would blame on the December bitter chill because it was a secret. One that neither of you had mentioned since it happened on Thursday night, or to be technically correct the early hours of Friday morning.

He’d been good. Of course he had been.

He had that way about him that night that pulled you under a false sense of endeared security. From his dimpled smile to gleaming eyes. He was happy.

And the way he had shone as he found you on the balcony had warmed you like nothing you had known in the longest time.

It caused you to forget about the worry that had laden you limbs as you turned up at 9.13pm to the wooden doors of the building, wondering how many songs he was in to the set as you convinced yourself he would start at 9.00pm.

As you’d been ushered over to a clear box window and uttered your name to a dorky looking man wearing a tracksuit pull over and watched him handover a white envelope through the circle hatch.

You stood in the dark, next to two much younger girls who enjoyed the way his glances lingered over at their side. Eyes had found Gemma in the opposite corner of the balcony, her dancing and singing with some recognisable faces mainly more so because you had seen them on social media.

You, however, kept yourself to yourself. Until you were anchored in the tightest hug from Gemma that you had ever felt from her and swayed from side to side as she made it known how pleased she was to see you once the concert was over.

That familiarity had been nice. The vibrancy of nostalgia consuming you in your entirety.

Watching him work a room when he finally entered the after party was a sight to behold, in his navy blue pinstripe suit and yellow ‘I’m gonna die lonely’ t-shirt.

He wasn’t. Gonna die lonely, that is.

He glided so smoothly from one person to the next, spilling a drink down himself in the process you’d seen (and later felt when your hand clung to the fabric of his t-shirt as you kissed), making time for everyone in his own unique way.

Big eyes followed you over Gemma’s shoulder when he had finally found himself within your circle and hugged his sister once more that evening. They were hard to read but also openly filled with a glimmer of hope as he dropped his gaze to see what you were wearing.

And when he approached you, he hugged you in a way that managed to pull you into the darkened corner of the dingy space. Spinning your body to keep your face concealed from any prying eyes.

He revealed to you how he didn’t think you were going to turn up, scanning you with his gaze as he spoke. You did the same, a bit taken aback by just how attractive you were finding him. He had always been handsome but the aura he gave off, made your fingers itch to have him closer to you.

Words ran away from you that night as he begged and pleaded with you to tell him what your favourite song had been. Based on first impressions, which the show has been, then Canyon Moon and Watermelon Sugar had smothered you and given you no other option but to pick them.

If he were to ask you now you’d probably say To Be So Lonely, thanks to the drive home being longer than originally thought and said album being your choice of road trip music.

Forget Driving Home For Christmas, nothing slapped more than one of your closest friends admitting to being an arrogant son of a bitch.

After your chat, he mingled some more but Harry was always tactile and that night had been no different. He veered conversations with people you had never seen before to take place by the zone that you all occupied.

He actively kept his back against yours, allowing the faintest of touches and brushing of arms - sometimes hands too if he dropped them down heavily enough with his arms as he spoke - to entice and create a spark.

You were kept late enough to miss the last tube. Battery dangerously low on your phone that you didn’t know if a transaction with Uber would be worth a try.

Jumping into the same car as him had been easy. His soft and tired eyes findings yours in the cab as he leant his head back against the headrest in the back seat and let his lips tip upwards in an expression of tenderness that had you melting in your seat.

“‘S been a while since we’ve both been a bit pissed in the back of a taxi,” he mused, pushing his fallen locks out of his eyes to ensure his view of you wasn’t obscured. “Come an’ cuddle me like you used to do when we went out a’ home and were worse for wear.”

Falling into his side was almost second nature, eyes closing as you let your forehead rest against his jawline and let his worn in cologne fill you senses and scatter your judgment.

You don’t even remember how you ended up kissing that night. A mixture of confessions about missing each other and praise of how good you both were in your own ways. The sound of his whispered, “are you coming home wi’me?” against your lips an offer too good for you to refuse as you sat pressed into his side and half in his lap.

The giggles that night, around dramatic shushes as you tripped and shuffled from the car to his front door were almost haunting in your memory as he tried to chastise you around spluttered laughter about being respectful of his neighbours.

Getting the key in the lock proved unchallenging - one of the better analogies aligned to your memories and latter sexual endeavours - as you slipped into the house. He enjoyed watching the way you walked ahead of him into his home, not realising how much he needed that visual of seeing how well you fit in.

While time seemed to slow in that moment, movements desperately sought the opposite. Hands gripped and clawed like their lives depended upon it.

Looking back now, both he and you wished it hadn’t happened the way it did. Skirt lifted and over the side of his couch. Teeth clashing and hips knocking.

It had been every inch a drunken fumble. A first meeting slightly cheapened but wanted nonetheless. Only made even cheaper by the hush-hush concealing of it ever occurring.

But a secret it was and a secret it would remain.

And oh how you wished you had a pillow you could press you face into right now and scream, this time for an entirely different reason. Unlike that night.

“Not seen a sign of any deer yet, mate,” you heard a voice break you out of your indulgence of recollecting past events. Harry was the worst at wanting to get a reaction.

“Christ, have a bit of patience would yer?”

You smiled at the bickering, just like it always was as the River Dane could be heard in the distance somewhere as you walked. If you listened really close, that is.

Lifting your eyes, your smile lingered as you watched Harry spin his body around and let his hands get lost in the massive pockets of his parka. He walked backwards holding your gaze softly with his eyes twinkling before he gently rolled them at the overreaction and impatience of your friends.

He seemed pleased that you’d enjoyed his teasing as you once again hid you smile into your jumper.

You’d be alright.

***

You heard giggles and screams ahead of you as your friends stumbled in the dark and messed about as you got closer to the viaduct. This place or the people didn’t change, and at times while it filled you with a warm nostalgia, it could be heavily jarring.

A soft and lazy smile pulled at your lips as you felt his heavy forearm lightly tug you closer to him, his lips finding your hair. And then there was Harry.

“Think we should go this way m’self,” Harry mumbled, the nudge of his hips against yours had you stumbling slightly in your heels away from the direction of your friends and somewhere completely different.

“And why’s that?” You turned your face slightly, cheeks warm and flushed thanks to the mixture of alcoholic beverages; eyes glazed as they lifted up to look at him.

“Cause you never would’ve let me when I was sixteen,” he admitted.

“You didn’t ask.”

“‘M askin’ now.”

With slow blinking eyes, you looked at his own unfocused vision. A soft shine to his skin, hair blowing gently against his forehead. The softest of smiles tilted at your lips.

“On yer go,” he nudged you forward, this time more so with his crotch and his hands, which wrapped around your hips to help steer you. Harry was met with only a small amount of resistance from you as you split off from your friends and turned in the different direction.

You bit back your laugh, dropping your head slightly as you felt your heels started to sink into the grass as you walked. Harry was level with you when you sunk down noticing the way you legs slightly gave way, a soft chuckle omitting from his throat as he asked, “You alrigh’?”

“I’m sinking in these bloody things,” you grumbled, pulling your heel from the grass and trying to place the sole of your shoe onto the ground beneath you first.

“So much for no’ being able to take the country out o’ the girl. London’s changed yer, swear it.”

Shaking your head, you cut your eyes to give him a harsh stare for his wind up. His amused expression lit a fire in you like no other. He really wasn’t one to talk though, was he?

“Gi’me your hand ‘ere,” he held his out to you, quickly cupping it when you handed it over and pulled it under his bent elbow. “Remind me again who’s idea this was, eh?”

He didn’t need reminding, he had been one of the keen instigators for the whole jaunt down Twemlow Viaduct. It usually was him, or Jack. The two of them often reminiscing on times they had both raided their parents' alcohol cupboards and managed to sneak out with some dusty bottle that held a liquor that tasted out of date and stale, and if not that then, cheap.

“‘S still fucking freezing down ‘ere, in’it?” He asked, lifting his left hand up to his mouth and blowing against it to try and get some feeling back into his fingers.

“We’re so close to the river, I don’t know why you’d expect anything different?”

“Is this why everyone was always so insistent on necking anything with over 11% alcohol in it when we came down ‘ere as kids?”

“Probably,” you softly laughed.

“‘S a bit different now though innit?”

“Oh, I’m not so sure,” you started to correct him, shrugging your hand out from under his elbow and reaching for your bag. Quickly fumbling with the clasp, you lifted up the quilted flap and managed to pull out the stainless steel hip flask.

Harry cackled a harsh laugh, his eyes crinkling as he slowly let his laughter die down and softly let his joy wash over his features. “Impressive. Gone all proper on me.”

“You know I haven’t,” you held his eyes watching as he nervously cupped at the back of his neck for a short while, a gentle bite down of his bottom lip, as you quickly uncapped the item and held it out to him. He looked like he needed the courage. You continued, “We’re just a bit more refined, that and we earn a good living. Some more than others, and by some I mean you.”

He held his hand up towards you with an amused grin at your comment. “You first, ‘s yours after all.”

Lifting the item and knocking back your head, you swallowed the whiskey with a small grimace, before offering it to Harry once more. This time he accepted, his right hand making light work of taking the item from your hands and sipping at the contents.

His face wasn’t as contorted as your’s when he swallowed, a fan of the chosen beverage if needs must. “‘S the proper stuff, tha’ is,” he commented with a quick lick of his lips before continuing, “Come a long way from sneaking the bottles of dusty Blossom Hill from the back of the cupboard.”

“Don’t know about that,” you smiled, taking the item and pushing it back into your bag. “I’d still drink if, if it were on offer.”

“‘M sure Mum’s got a bottle or two going at home?”

“Is that your way of asking me to go home with you?” You paused. “Again.”

Harry remained silent at your words. Both you and he knew it was going to happen. A mixture of sparks and lovelorn, lingering glances was enough to make anyone both want to give up, while also giving a burning confidence usually unknown.

Neither of you expected it would be you who started the conversation, however.

“It is, ‘f it’s gonna work. ‘M not sure I could wait any longer t’be’onest wi’yer.“

Laughing, you reached up to push at his shoulder. He always knew exactly what to say, but no way was he going to make a laughing stock of the whole thing. “Oh, give over,” you spoke, harshly swallowing when he kept your hand against the thick cable knit black jumper he had on. “You’ve made it this far, thus far just fine.”

“‘M not playin’,” he whispered, hand gently curling around your own and lifting it up to press against his face. His cheeks were warm underneath the cooler hands, despite the cold night whipping around you both and your mind quickly wondered if he was just as embarrassed for his lack of acknowledgment as you had been. “Homes nice, you’re nicer.”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about it,” you let your soft voice get taken by the wind.

“An’ what gave you tha’ impression?”

He did. He gave you that impression. By not mentioning it. By treating you how he always did.

“You.”

“Me?” Harry responded, indignantly, blowing out a sigh that had his cheeks puffing out underneath your hand. “‘M not doing a very good job then am I? I can’t keep m’eyes off o’you. ‘S not my fault you don’t bloody notice ‘em.”

But you had noticed them.

His eyes, gaze following your every move, near enough. Stupid little touches. Glances of approval. Not just now, but from years before.

Treating you how he always did.

Oh, treating you how he always did.

Bringing your eyes back to his figure, you saw the way his gaze darted and nervousness dragged at his features. A frown began to set itself between his eyebrows from worry.

“Changes everything.”

Running his tongue along his teeth, Harry pursed his lips. “Everythin’ has changed, changed a long time ago an’all.”

You dropped your hand down, it now massaging against the back of his neck and shoulder as you felt the tension of his body radiating through his clothes. Under the dim moonlight and the odd spotlight that had been added to the viaduct with each passing year for safety, Harry exhumed everything anyone would want in a boyfriend. He was soft, and so bloody gorgeous. Not just because he was personification of an almost six foot tall string of handsomeness, but his character did the talking for him.

He knocked the door before he walked into a room, for example. Who really did that kind of thing anymore?

But you could also still see the heartbreak that lingered, albeit not as strong as it once was, it was still there. And that was problematic and scary. To be on the receiving end of it. Not that you would hold it against him, because you had been him at one point too. At many points in fact.

When the two of you had shagged, because let’s face it that is exactly what it had been, while a sense of familiarity in the person was prevalent it was definitely overruled by the desire to just hit a euphoric high that if hit right could not be topped.

Familiar overruled in other aspects, and it wasn’t to be brushed away. But was familiarity a mask that would slip sooner rather than later? Was it the start and the end?

The both of you experienced similarities in your life that could not be matched by the friends in your friendship group. London had chewed you up and spat you out, ruthlessly so. While rewarding you with long hours but fat pay cheques, careers that catapulted you to new heights and enabled you to see parts of the world that two country kids (which in one way you were) could never have imagined.

Sure Harry’s had been on a much, much larger scale - you would not ever deny that - but you no longer fit in.

And neither did he.

This was a place that only the two of you knew. A place where you watched those around you fall in love and have the time to do so. A place where your friend's happiness was created a lot easier than it wasn’t and allowed a sense of success to weave its way in, through the most unexpected of happenings.

Not a place where you found happiness in your work because there was less of a space for happiness to blossom elsewhere. Not really. Not like you; both of you.

Understanding was vital.

This had been a place you knew like the back of your hand. A place that had you feeling the earth beneath your feet, fresh air in your lungs and had at times made it so you found yourself sitting by a river and finding yourself feeling complete.

Yet looking over at the almost 26 year old, that just wasn’t the case anymore.

And for once you didn’t feel alone.

The sound of the odd piece of cobbled pavement underneath Harry shoes, buried beneath overgrown grass and plants, broke you from your thoughts, as you watched him kick at the ground and scuff his shoes.

He sighed, head tilted back before he knocked it to the side and caught your eyes. A small scoffed laugh left his lips as he shook his head and dropped his gaze to his feet.

“‘S it fucked?”

You hummed, a small frown lacing your features.

“Fucked it, haven’t I? Fuckin’- idiot-“ he breathed out a noise as he clenched his teeth, one that wasn’t quite a growl but enough to let you know he was agitated. Only strengthened by how tight his jaw became.

Before you could even think, the back of your hand gently brushed against the pulsing hinge of his jaw. Muscles taut as you tried to soothe him in a way that your mind was screaming was far too intimate.

You didn’t want him having any internal battle about right and wrong. Not when you had both taken the same steps to get here.

“Thought it was just meant as a one time thing,” you admitted. “Like you needed it, and I needed it. Was what it needed to be at the time. Bit rough, bit sloppy-“

You cringed are the use of the word. Wanting the ground to swallow you in a weird fashion. You should be able to talk open and honestly with someone who you had known longer than hadn’t.

“Rough?“ Harry swallowed audibly, his face fallen. “That’s not-“

His eyes held an emotion similar to sorrow at the mention of the word. “That’s not the impression I wanted to give you.”

“We were both drunk, it happens.”

“Not with me it doesn’t. Not when it’s me, wanting to be wi’you.”

“I mean I was into it if that helps anything?”

“Were yer?”

You looked at him from the corner of your vision, watching his lips try to fight a smile as you rolled yours into your mouth to not give yourself away. You knew what you were trying to do by speaking those words aloud but you wished you hadn’t. Awkward breathy laughs were shared by the two of you as you held his eyes.

“Was I?”

You hummed in agreement to answer his question, letting your smile dance along your lips now and watching as Harry’s dimples started to show. His expression was youthful, slightly smug.

“Good t’know.”

***

Finishing saying your goodbyes to your friends and ignoring their suggestive expression because ‘Harry was stopping as an extra pair of hands’, you shut the heavy wooden door and reached up to close the deadbolt lock at the top. Shortly after, you let your feet drop as you stopped standing on your tiptoes and pressed your forehead against the door.

The silence of the pub was always a strange one to you. A place that was usually thriving, whether it was just your friends, or your parents friends. When the lights were turned out, it was actually quite a lonely place. Regardless of growing up around this sort of industry your entire life and having parents as publicans nothing was more depressing than an empty bar, lifeless and nothing like it was intended.

A suggested lock-in from Jack, who managed to interrupt both yours and Harry’s conversation earlier had not been a bad shout after all. You knew it meant that you would have to deal with the fallout with it being Christmas Eve, but it wasn’t very often that you found yourself in the setting.

Turning to move from the door, you almost jumped out of your skin when you heard the opening of a familiar Lily Allen song start to play over the speakers.

Harry emerged from the corner of the pub that housed the jukebox, slowly rubbing his hands together before he wordlessly picked up the scattered pint glasses that had remained on one of the tables that had been missed by the staff on the evening shift. His eyes glanced over at you, as you stood with a hand to your chest.

This wicked smile and gleam washed over his face as he paused his movement. “Did I scare yer?”

“Do you not think it’s a bit loud?”

He wrinkled his nose at you, a soft shake of his head no, to answer your question.

“‘S your fave innit?” He asked, head nudging to where the jukebox was now hidden.

With a small smile you nodded, “Prefer the Keane version in all honesty.”

“Don’t have it in the bloody jukebox though, d’yer? Can’t like it that much.”

Your smile deepened at his exclaim and how prominent his accent sounded as he spoke, the small clink of the glasses he was holding only heard if you really zoned in.

“Where d’yer want these?” He asked, holding up the five pint glasses he had collected. “Behind t’bar?”

Humming, you nodded and watched as he weaved his way through the tables to you. You frowned as he got closer, not understanding why he hadn’t bypassed you completely.

Once he was close enough to you, you watched as he reached for what you knew to be your own glass of wine that was almost finished.

“Fancy the rest of this or can it go too?”

Looking at him and down to the glass, you gently wrapped your hand around it and brought the lip to your mouth. You knocked the item back quickly, swallowing the rest of your wine, before handing over the now empty glass back to Harry.

“Good girl,” he joked, light laughter lacing each word. “Sit yourself down.”

Wearing an amused and quizzical expression, you let yourself sink down into the wooden chair. Resting your chin on your hand, you spun slightly in your seat to keep your eyes on Harry as he placed the glasses down and lifted the hatch so he could step behind the bar.

With your free hand, you started to tap the worn beer coaster labelled with the Cheshire Brewhouse logo against the table. Part of you hated how Harry had a knack for anything, including knowing his way around a bar.

He busied himself with collating the glasses once more as you let your eyes take in the surroundings you had known, loved and even grown out of.

Your parent’s pub was cosy and friendly. A truly

classic and quintessential British village pub, featuring open fires, bookcases found in the very far corner or the jukebox in the other, lots of old oak and a really pleasant garden with benches for the summat and heaters for the winter. You know the kind that had its regulars that had kids who had seen each other grow up.

The bar was the centre of the pubs house, with an extensive array of whiskies amongst many other delights. A nice range of local ales and a well-balanced, great quality list of wines on offer designed (which you would be taste testing if the service hadn’t decided to take a break) to complement the food menus designed daily by a team of chefs who all have a passion for great cooking using fresh, seasonal and local ingredients.

It looked as Christmassy as Christmas could get, with a real tree which was locally sourced from one of the many surrounding farms and traditionally decorated with golds and reds. Twinkly lights shone, not only on the trees but as part of the garland that was hung above the bar each year, much to the annoyance of your Dad and the delight of your Mum.

Slowly dragging your eyes back to the bar, you watched Harry as he poured you another glass of white wine and started to recap the bottle. He must’ve felt your eyes on him, his gaze meeting yours almost immediately.

“Service is a bit slow,” you jibed, once you knew he was with you. “Going to ruin the reputation of a fine establishment.”

His chuckle was breathy in response, but warmed you through as he turned his back and pushed his tumbler glass up against the device at the bottom of the Glenfiddich distilled malt whiskey, not once but twice going for a double.

“Helping yourself to the stock now, as well.”

“‘M sure your Dad won’t mind,” he responded, twisting his body back around to reach for your own glass and place it onto a tray that sat along the bar top. “In fact he’d probably make a comment about how it’d put hairs on m’chest.”

You laughed, unrestrained, knowing just how right he had been with that comment.

Over the otherside of the room, Harry smiled and shushed you as he walked closer, easily holding the tray with your drinks upon it. “Being a bit loud,” he taunted as he slid the tray down to the oak table.

“Oh, now you’re concerned about the noise.”

With his hand against the back of the chair which was currently housing your outstretched legs, you felt him start to wobble the seat to give you a warning.

“Hang on,” you said, “Plenty of other chairs.”

“This one’s mine,” he responded.

Wanting to roll your eyes but deciding not to, you let your legs drop down and gave the seat back to Harry. Once he was comfortable and he’d taken your drink off the tray, he gestured with his right hand.

Not entirely focused, he had to do the ‘come hither’ motion a couple of times before you finally cottoned on. He was willing to let you put your legs on his lap instead, while he may have taken the seat it didn’t mean he wanted to take away your comfort.

No sooner had your legs been raised to rest against his tan washed velvet corduroy trousers, was he fiddling with the buckle of your stiletto sandals.

“Got mud everywhere,” you commented, wiggling your toes that were painted a festive red and inspecting the little dots of dirt that were splattered against your skin, as Harry dropped the first shoe to the floor and quickly worked on the second. “Dread to think what they smell like.”

“Smell alrigh’ from ‘ere,” he mused, smirk faint but glaring obvious in his tone of voice as he threw a quick and mischievous glance at you. As you elongated your foot against his thighs, the tips of your toes were just about able to press into his thick jumper to try and jab at him for his comment.

Before you were able to put any sort of force behind your action, Harry’s hand clamped down around the top of your foot causing your eyes to snap up away from his hand and up to his eyes.

There he sat watching you, top two teeth pressed into his bottom lip keep his smile at bay. Releasing his lips slowly, his whispered threat left his throat, “I will tickle.”

You tried to fidget away but to no avail. With a whined laugh, you frowned as Harry goaded you by slowly raising his eyebrows. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

You had tried him.

Truth be told you wanted to again.

If he wanted to.

Reaching for your wine, you took a hefty sip and let the silence swallow you both. Harry, who kept his hand on your foot and his fingers dancing gently against the top, let his head fall back awkwardly against the hardwood. His head dropped to the side taking in his surroundings and their familiarity.

“Do you ever get tired of coming back?”

You hummed, sure you had misheard due to the way the blood was rushing around your ears. He turned to look at you, all double chin and puffy cheeks.

“Of everything being the same, but different?”

His whispers captivated you, hushed confessions not quite meant for anyone else but his own mind yet spilling from him with such an ease that he did nothing to fight them.

“I’ll admit, I come home for other people. Not for me.”

“People?”

“Mum, Dad,” you paused. “You.”

His smile deepened. His chin knocking down to his chest, his eyes looking up at you from underneath his curling hair from being caught in the moist winter evening just hours before.

“You can stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you did three nights ago.”

Harry breathed in deeply, his nostrils flaring and his chest expanding. A lick of his lips, before his mouth dropped to sit slightly agape.

“What if I don’t wan’to? What if I want t’look at yer like this all the time?”

You found yourself unable to respond, nose burying itself into your wine glass as you pressed your lips against the cool outside to try and hide your burning smile.

His lips curled lightly, before he breathed a laugh once and gently shook your foot with his hand. “Eh? Come ‘ere-“

“Harry,” you breathed.

“C’mon, c’mere. ‘S room for more than just your feet.”

If it wasn’t for the creak of your chair as you slowly started to push yourself out of it, you wouldn’t have consciously been aware of how you were making your way to him.

His body relaxed, somehow managing to become closer to horizontal than sitting upright in his seat, as he peered as you walking the short distance over to him.

With his legs widened, he pressed his face into your side now that you were close enough. His nose inhaled the familiar scent of your perfume which was only faint now due to the other senses and scents it had mixed with throughout the evening.

Rolling his face out of your body, he knocked his head back and pressed his chin where his face had been. The face you showed him was worn with worry, an expression he did not want to meet.

“‘S wrong?”

His ask was lazy. Not wanting to dig deep and know. What if he didn’t like what he found?

“We know how this is going to end.”

“Do we?” He prodded. His eyes moved over your features quickly before they partly disappeared to him, thanks to your curtain of hair which slowly fell down.

His hand reached up, desperately brushing it away and cupping at the back of your head as best as he could while he remained seated.

“How’s that? Tell me.”

“Same, but different.”

You knew you shouldn’t use his words, not in a way that could be considered against him, but they - in the most ambiguous of ways - described everything perfectly.

“Not if I have my way.”

His words were almost lost against your stomach as he pressed his face against you once more and wrapped his hands around you; sweaty, nervous palms pressing to the backs of your thighs.

“Same, but better.”

Harry guided you down to his lap, his lips somehow managing to remain pressed into stomach, or your chest, or your clavicle, as your face became level with his.

“Different, but better.”

He kissed against your cheek slowly, nose nudging at your skin as he willed for you to relax against him. “I don’t know how you like it, like this,” he whispered in confession. “Show me?”

A puff of air left your lips as you turned to look at him with hooded eyes. His mouth was closer to yours than you originally thought, corners of lips brushing as you slightly pulled away.

When your lips met, it was in the softest of pecks that trembled under your nerves. Both sets of eyes looking back at each other as you innocently engaged.

If you were to take your eyes away from him in any way, you would notice those fluffy curls of his falling over his forehead and the lightest dusting of red blush making itself known against his cheeks and the tops of his ears.

He felt like a school boy, lost and clumsy. The kid who was once again flicking paper at you in science class just so he could pull a face at you over something your teacher was saying to get you to laugh.

Mouths hovering over each other, your breathing mixed, as Harry nodded to you slightly. You pressed your lips to his once more, feeling the way he gradually opened up to you, warmed and softened underneath the puckering of your mouth against his.

His hands, that slightly trembled, smoothed over your hips trying to pull your body so that it was more so flush against his. You moaned softly, your hands running over his jumper covered shoulders, fingers digging and pulling at the material just below the nape of his neck.

The chair beneath you moved lightly against the floor, not quite a scrape but a dull drag. Neither of you broke the kiss, but his hands against you allowed fingers to dig in to hold you steady to him so if you were to fall from where you were sitting, he still had you.

His lips slowed, moving to press against your cheeks again as he panted and his warmth breath bounced off your skin. “Think I got it,” he heaved.

“Do you?”

Harry hummed his ‘yea’, before pressing his lips so tenderly to your chin and the underside of your jaw. He felt how you swallowed heavily, throat dry from the way your mouth hung open and your neck further exposed itself as you lolled your head back.

You were falling further and further back, finding it hard to stay upright as he devoured you and made you weaker with each pulling kiss. His groans were needy, muffled and making your ache. While yours were silent and making his desperate to pull something from you. To build is confidence in that he was doing something right, you liked it this way too.

Hands fumbled and dragged upwards at your skirt, faintly aware now how it was similar - if not the same one - to the garment you wore to his show.

“Gonna take this off properly,” he mumbled, feeling the way your hips moved slightly from his hands to roll over him.

“You don’t have to-“

“No?”

Your voices were rushed as you spoke to each other, barely audible but loud enough all the same. His head was knocked back slightly as you hovered over him and you found yourself admiring his blissed out face even only in the lead up.

This was a sight that you hadn’t received last time, and if you had your way it was one you were going to greedily enjoy in all its glory.

Like watching the way his eyes closed and he softly grinned, the left side of his teeth started to show as the one side of his face reacted first while your hands blindly moved to lift up his jumper and the white tee he had on underneath, to allow you to find the button of his corduroys.

“What ya doing?”

“Nothing,” you mused.

He pulled a face, the kind that down turned his lips, eyebrows raised and head slightly tilted to the side. The kind that had you smiling.

“Not trying to get m’trousers around m’ankles for a second time within a week then?”

You giggled. “No.”

“Please do.”

A low moan left you as you pressed your forehead to his jaw and dropped your eyes. Your hands slowly started to pull at the brass button and pop it open before seeking out the zip thanks to his desperate plea, encouraging you to continue.

Hands quickly sought out the waistband of the trousers and gently pulled at the item. From the way that you were sat, you knew there was no way you were doing to make them budge.

“Stand up fo’ me,” he mumbled, quickly helping you get off his lap so that he could make light work of his clothing and pull down his trousers and underwear.

His bare bum made easy contact with the cushion leather beneath him, eyes carefully watching you as your hands moved to underneath your skirt.

The fabric of your underwear slipped so easily down your legs, his eyes just about caught the sight of them as they pooled against your ankles and you kicked them away.

Legs pressed together, you slowly untucked the v-necked blouse you had chosen and pulled it over your head. Wearing nothing but a fancy black bra, and a tight little skirt you hastily snatched for your wine and took a hefty gulp.

You could feel his eyes on you, a gruff groan catching in the back of his throat and when you finally turned your eyes from where they had been looking down at your heaving chest and how great this bra made your boobs look, causing him to move his hand down to start playing with himself.

His name left your lips in a breathy gasp, causing you to look up quite surprised at the find of his right hand gently tugging at his hard length.

“Keepin’ me waitin’,” he groaned, his left hand sloppily reached for the back of the collar of his jumper and tee, pulling the item roughly over his head.

“Fuck sake,” he mumbled under his breath, agitated that he was unable to get both items of in one go.

“Smooth.”

Harry stared up at you with a playful squint, before he gently fell back and moved the chair as he did so, the dull scrape heard once more.

And if you didn’t know he was flushed before, when you first kissed, you were definitely aware now. His eyes were blown out and hungry as they devoured you. Hair wildly haphazard before he let go of himself with a soft slap of his skin and harshly pushed his fingers through it.

“‘S it still a couple of quid for a strip of three,” his words brought you back to him. This smugness radiated off of him as he groaned and leaned forward to push his trousers down all of the way. Over his vans and socked feet, before he toed them off as well be harshly pulled at his white sport socks.

You didn’t even need for him to explain what he meant, staying silent as you watched his hands tug at his corduroys from the floor and retrieve his wallet. As his fingers moved around to find a couple of quid, the jangle of the coins was taunting.

One leg crossed over the other, you swayed and found yourself blushing when he looked up at you once he’d managed to find enough money and then some. With his wallet thrown on the table, he stood proudly from the seat and closed the short gap between your both.

Leaning forward he easily took your lips with his own before pulling away. With his face still close to yours he whispered, “Promise not to look at my arse.”

He didn’t hang around long enough for your reply, instead turning away and brazenly giving you all the time you would ever need to admire him, his fantastic bum and his hairy legs before he opted for a jog-walk type of thing, suddenly conscious that he was absolutely walking around naked from the waist down in a pub owned by your parents.

While you waited you took a quick pull from his whiskey, needing the heftier burn for Dutch courage. Nervousness returned when you heard the endings of what you believed to be Harry whistling.

“Machine ate all m’fuckin’ change,” he grumbled, regardless of the twinkle in his eye at the strip of overpriced condoms he had managed to score from the men’s bathroom. “‘S Durex. Business must be booming, your Dad’s definitely gone up in the world.”

“Please don’t talk about my Dad.”

He smiled brightly before he reached for your face with one hand and pulled you towards him mumbling his ‘sorry’s’ against your lips as he gave you several kisses in quick succession.

His other arm loosely wrapped around your back and pulled you with him as he walked backwards and slowly lowered himself back onto his previous seat. The chair creaked as you joined him, slipping into his lap and feeling the way he was smiling now.

Pulling away from your kiss, he quickly tore away one of the condoms allowing the others to fall without much care to the floor. Teeth took a hold of the foil-like packaging and he tore it not so elegantly with his eagerness.

With his cock nestled in the crease of his own thigh now, the heat radiating from it matched your own agonising yearning. Scooting back to give him space, you heard him groan as he gently rolled the condom down onto himself. Eyes looking up just in time to see him knocking his head back and breathing deeply through nose. The foil-like packaging was back in between his teeth once more as his hands were otherwise preoccupied.

Slowly your hand reached up to take it from his mouth, feeling some playful resistance as Harry continued to hold it in his teeth. His eyes were open and boyishly sincere, as you tugged at the item and he finally released it when you lightly laughed.

“Gi’me a kiss.”

Obliging him, you leant forward and slotted your mouths together a lot easier than you had done at the start of the night. A heat built easily between the two of you, as Harry gave you his tongue and you felt the flex of his jaw under your hand as he worked your mouths together.

He was eager, his hands tightening on your waist before he growled when he understood he had to grab handfuls of skirt before he could cup your backside. But when his skin met yours and you ground down onto his lap, the groan that left him was the most animalistic sound imaginable.

The frown your face fell into showed your desire to whimper, as he kept you atop him and marvelled in the way you writhed, both from satisfaction and keenness at the pressure of his cock against you.

“Can I have you again?” He asked, the startings of sweaty hair being pushed off your face. His eyes peered at you, searching for his answer as you seemed to be able to do nothing but pant and look back at him yearningly. “Are you letting me?”

You dragged your fingers down his t-shirt covered torso and lifted it slightly just to see the quiver of his stomach as pulled you onto him once more.

“Like this?” you voiced, meekly.

“‘F this is what you like then, yea’”, he breathed into your mouth, hands shifting your pliant body. “Is this what you want?”

You wordlessly nod, mouth falling open in a breathy gasp when he managed to move you so he sat so enticingly at your entrance. He was teasing both yourself and him, wanting to keep you both on the edge.

Harry blinked a few times as he looked at you, and you revelled in the way he couldn’t seem to concentrate. His hands held your flesh tightly, fingertips dipping into the skin of your bum cheeks as he gently guided you down.

An unattractive and dull, quite strangled noise, left your throat as you let your forehead fall against his temple. Eyes falling down you see the cups of your bra fall slack, you felt his hands softly gliding over your shoulder blades and shoulders.

He rid you of your bra, hands moving to your chest to squeeze your breasts. His jaw fell slack when you found yourself sitting snugly on his lap - on him - settled and already feeling spent.

This was so different compared to the last time; if not overwhelming so because of the way you both appeared to be so present. Each movement of your hips, and the way they rolled and grinded and dragged felt too much. So much so that you had become nothing more than a mess of short, quick breathing and blushing, sweaty cheeks.

Slack-jaw, you were unable to find it in you to return Harry’s kisses, and his joyful, breathy chuckle seemed to lead you to believe he was fine with it. In fact he was happy to keep going as you were.

Your movements were frantic, and despite the build up, not entirely driven by lust either. Harry continued to encourage you to move as you were; slow, grinding motions on his lap that caused the filthiest of groans and dirtiest of laughs from the two of you. Laughter that was only made stronger as the chair that held you both started to creak too.

You couldn’t do much about it though other than to breathe into each other’s mouth, and rock your hips together with more fervour each time.

“Yea’,” he breathed against your lips, left hand at the back of your head holding you to him, while his right rested just above your bum. “‘S better. That’s better.”

It was better. Better than last time. Better than anything before.

And while it hadn’t been frantic before, it was now as your legs that were hanging down either side of the chair started to tremble and your toes started to dig into the worn carpet beneath them. Hips knocking and your clit dragging heavenly against his public bone, you grasped his name as you buried your face into his neck and dug your nails into his nape.

Harry hissed his approval which fell to a groan as your nails pushed up into his hair and lightly pulled as you sought leverage. There were so many things you were learning this time around and his penchant for liking his hair pulled from time to time, was one of those things.

“God, ‘m gonna come soon,” he admitted, gruntly as he forced your hips down as he anchored his legs and widened his seating position. “Are you close?”

“Yeah,” you whined. “Yes. Like this-“

And as you pressed your face to his once more, he was everywhere. Soft but hard, loving but commanding. Smelled like clean washing detergent but of country air. Inviting and alluring, allowing you your lingering kisses between grounding breaths that became staccato in unison with the movement of your hips.

You aren’t ashamed of the whines that escaped your throat as you squeezed down on his cock, praised by indecipherable works that left Harry but were nothing more to you than lips moving against your rough and dry ones. Word that made the burning feeling of your pending orgasm spread through your entire body, warming you and setting you alight.

It was long and deep, with your toes curling into the carpet they were pressed against now. Barely able to catch your breath, sucking in harshly and shaking.

And when you came to, thoroughly exhausted, you noticed that he was waiting for your say so. That he could let go and enjoy the pleasure brought about by your shared labour.

“Coming-“ was all the warning that you got and was enough to encourage you to watch him as he came, his face completely void of anything other than pure pleasure. Wrinkles and frowns fade, his mouth falling open with his pink lips glinting prettily under the dim Christmas lights around you.

His forehead gleamed with sweat as he wrapped his arms around you tightly and his hips bucked up one, two and three times for good measure. “Fuck me,” he heaved gruffly.

You were suddenly desperate to feel his lips on yours despite the way you both continued to fight to get your breath back, but settled for resting them against the skin of his cheek, which was hot to the touch.

When you felt Harry start to go soft, you reluctantly pulled away and let him slip out of you. He wasn’t so keen to let you get too far, holding you just that bit higher than before with his hand cupping gently but firmly at your hip. “Where’d you think you’re going,” he hummed, eyes still closed as he continued to heavily inhale and exhale.

You softly smiled, taking in his soft face and responded by nuzzling close to him again.

Nowhere. Somewhere. Anywhere with him.

A place where only the two of you knew, like the back of your hand. The same way you knew each other. Now and possibly forever.

#gbsxmaschallenge #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles x reader #harry x reader #harry styles x you #harry x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles christmas #harry christmas

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viscountessevie · 2 years

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A co-worker irritated me last week. I heard her taking about the bee scene, and she said it was so awkward and uncomfortable. I wanted to scream: it’s supposed to be!! A post traumatic reaction is not fun!! People who have them are often embarrassed by them because they are not in control. Didn’t that scene show that perfectly?? It IS uncomfortable, but that is THE point: Kate could walk into that uncomfortable moment and bring Anthony back to himself.

Oh gosh anon I'm so sorry that happened! Thanks for sharing this honestly, it means alot and you're so right!

My main response to this when I first read it was I immediately said out loud: Some people have never been mentally ill and it shows.

Now thinking it over, not only is your coworker neurotypical but they do not have an empathetic bone in their body or are straight up like Truly Blind Edwina and completely missed the purpose of that scene. Which was it's a very real and scary panic attack/ptsd response on Anthony's side. As someone who has had her fair of them, I felt SO seen by Anthony and Kate's breathing exercise to help him calm down, helped me too. I sometimes rewatch that scene when I feel panic attacks coming on and Kate's breathing calms me down.

It was one of the few scenes of S2 that was brilliant in the way it was framed and Jimone blew it out of the water. They had such a fundamental understanding of their characters, their responses and how to perfectly to portray panic attacks (Jonny) and how to ground someone (Simone). It was very accurate in capturing this situation as someone who was in Ant's position having a panic attack and had friends ground me like Kate did.

The scene meant so much to me so to have your co-worker invalidate it is so disheartening. Ik it's a professional work place but you should have screamed "THAT'S THE POINT" to her.

Also if you want, you can send her this post and if you do here's a message for her: Ma'am, please use some criticial thinking before speaking on a scene that you clearly didn't relate to you/wasn't meant for you. It would not kill you to look up panic attacks, how they present and how to help someone going through one. It would be a shame if someone close to you experienced one while you were there and all you could say that they were being awkward and making you uncomfortable instead of helping them.

Again so sorry you had to work with someone like this and hope this week's been going better. So glad you felt safe on my blog to open up about this! For future ref, I welcome all kinds of bitching and ranting of people like this in my ask box or PMs. Just straight up come in and be like "Ohmygod Kyle was being an asshat in class today" like I have no idea who Kyle is but fuck him and I'll just be here to listen and validate yall 💞💞

#bridgerton #kate sharma #anthony bridgerton #kathony #Panic Attacks man they suck but Bridgerton and Jimone did that scene SO well #Sanji Answers

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steves-strapcollection · 4 years

Text

On Tragedy vs. Bad Endings

[Image ID: user @frostyfrogz replied to your post “my mag171 #thots: I fully agree with. I love jonmartin I want nothing but the best for them. I know my answer today was an obvious twisting of dialogue but its just frustrating sometimes because it seems like people dont understand some sort of tragedy will indeed happen. I have never and will never suggest that something will happen to Jon and Martin’s relationship I’ve just been saying the shows not going to end well no matter what.]

So I have a lot of thoughts about this very subject, and too much for the replies on my post, so allow me to try to articulate what I mean, and what a lot of us mean when we say “it does not make sense for either Jon or Martin to turn evil in the end,” even in a show that has been advertised from day one as a tragedy.

First of all, no one thinks this is going to end happy. The few who do are usually unaware that this show is billed as a tragedy, and are quick to be corrected. I didn’t know it was a tragedy until I was on season 3 and someone told me. It’s overall just best to assume that the OP knows it’s not going to be a happy ending, because “reminding” people or “explaining” to people that the ending is going to be sad is a fast way from people to get annoyed and defensive.

Anyway! It appears, above all, that people have either fundamentally different ideas of what a tragedy is or accomplishes, or that people have a fundamentally flawed understanding of tragedy and it’s place as a narrative device/theme.

My thoughts are that tragedies hurt, and tragedies can be devastating, but they have to have a message and they should not be cruel to the audience.

A cruel ending would involve leading the audience to believe one thing for the entire book, show, movie, podcast, what have you, just to rip it away at the last minute like a big “fuck you” to the audience. Those sorts of endings are inherently mocking of the audience, and ultimately disrespectful. The only people in the audience that “benefit” from this sort of writing are the cynics who spent the entire show talking down to everyone for seeing the silver lining in the impending tragedy, even if, up until the finale, the silver lining was always part of the narrative. Like it took actual twisting and outright ignoring of the narrative as it’s written to be cynical and sceptical all the way until the end.

That is, plain and simple, bad writing. Jonny Sims is not a bad writer.

Now tragedies often have “happy endings,” they just also have an element of sadness colouring that ending. A good, tragic ending should, in my opinion, feel bittersweet. We should see it coming, we should know it will hurt, but it should be for the greater good and should further the narrative that has been told from the beginning.

I said a few weeks ago that a tragic ending without a silver lining is just torture porn, and I stand by it.

Now, if Jon or Martin are revealed to be Actually Evil in the end, where is the silver lining in that? What narrative has even possibly hinted at this outcome, without putting on cynic glasses?

Every single plot point and plot “twist” in TMA has been clearly detailed, never relegated to pure subtext that you would have to comb through a single interraction and analyzing the tone in which it was said (which could easily be actor shortcomings or error). They have always been obvious, at least in hindsight. This is why, for a while, I subscribed to the Web!Martin theory, but due to recent episodes I’m more inclined to believe those “obvious things” were red herrings.

Throughout The Magnus Archives, the common theme in every. Single. Season finale is that “we are stronger together.” What do I mean by that? Well, here’s the general idea:

Season 1: The one time someone gets separated by the group for any significant length of time, like I mean the main group, she gets killed by the NotThem and replaced.

Season 2: Jon is alone, due to his intense paranoia and his reluctance to reach out for help. This leads to a disastrous series of events that leaves him a suspect of murder, and his friends even more doubtful of his character.

Season 3: In the episode just before they deal with the Unknowing, Jon literally says that isolation was his downfall, and he was going to work on trusting his friends more. When they got separated during the Unknowing, things went to shit. When they found each other again, they were able to rally and they “succeeded.” Conversely, they are also teamed up with Melanie and Martin who hung back to bring down Elias. They were successful, working as teams on separate objectives, etc.

Season 4: This is, by far, their most “successful” feats while simultaneously their least. The whole season was again showing the downfalls of isolation. In the season finale, Jon has Basira and Daisy’s help, and while bolstering himself with their strength, and the strength in his conviction to save Martin to be with Martin, Jon was successful in stopping Peter Lukas and saving Martin. Conversely, Martin and Jon’s isolation in Scotland could be, theoretically, implicated in how Jonah Magnus was able to succeed in the end like that.

Now evidence of this same train of thought in season 5? Jon literally says it: Gertrude would not have done well in this post-apocalyptic world, because she had no friendships, no anchors, no reason to stay human. And then Jon says “you are my reason” to Martin.

It is in the text of the story that the only way to succeed, or win, or survive, is through trust, friendship, and love. One of the main factors in so many of the statements, on why the statement givers succumbed to the fear in their story, for even a moment, had to do with very little personal ties to anyone else. Many of the statements feature isolation and, as Jon put it, “lack of corroboration.” On the flipside, many of the statements that ended with the statement giver escaping successfully, and surviving long enough to be reached out to for follow-up questions, involved them having close personal ties to someone else that kept them safe, somehow. Like the girl from Italy; remembering her mom saved her from the Lonely. Or, more ridiculously, the guy and his dog that escaped the spiral because he was so distracted by his dog and had to be home for dinner. In MAG170, it was Martin’s love for Jon, and his trust in the love from Jon and his friends, that saved him from the Lonely again. Jon’s incredible amount of love, and respect, and trust in his friends is what’s kept him from becoming another Jared Hopworth or Jude Perry. In MAG155, Cost of Living, he expresses open disgust in how that particular avatar of The End justified her actions, killing and killing and killing again because she viewed herself as more worthy of life than that person. In that same episode, he talks of not blinding himself because he hopes to use his powers to protect his friends, that without them they’re too vulnerable. Honestly, this is the same reason Peter Lukas is unsuccessful, because Martin only helped him at all to protect his friends. The fact that he didn’t see his failure coming was hilarious.

Gerry said in Family Business that there is no “entities of love”, and that might be true, but love and trust is literally what saves you from fear. How many of us deal with things that are scary in our lives, if only because we have some level of trust in the people or things around us. How many of us have been brought out of a panic attack by someone we love and trust?

So all of this has been presented to us, over and over and over again, which is what I, and others, mean when we say “it does not make sense for one of them to be evil.” That’s what we mean when we say “it would be Bad Writing to make one of them evil in the end.” The entire show has driven home the message that we need love, we need personal connections to survive fear. To rip that away from the main characters at the last minute and call it “tragedy” would be a spit in the face of every single listener who took the story at face value, without picking it apart and reading lines out of context. And Jonny Sims and Alex J. Newall have both said they hate lazy writing.

Now, none of the JonMartin fans I follow are deluding themselves to think this show will have a happy ending outside of very self-indulgent fix-it au fanfics.

The way I see this going down is that Jon and Martin will figure out how to put the world back to the way it was, but Jon will not be able to be part of the new world with Martin. That’s the tragedy; that the world gets saved, and Jon helps save it, but he doesn’t get to benefit from his efforts in any way. The tragedy is Jon loves Martin so much, and they deserve their happy ending, but they don’t get it. But, they still saved the world so others can have their happy endings.

Idk about you, but between the “Jon turns evil in the end” and “Jon stays good and sacrifices himself to save the world” endings, only one of them has me in tears right now as I type this out, and it’s not the former.

I’m not against sad endings,I’m against bad endings that punish the audience for having even a bittersweet hope. I’m against sad endings that are just sad for the sake of being sad, with zero pay-off or reason to happen, especially when those endings throw out 5 years of hard work.

And hey, I might just be forced to eat my words in the end, but not before I fly all the way to England and make Jonny Sims eat a knuckle sandwich.

This was a lot longer than I meant for it to be, but I just have a lot of feelings.

#jonmartin #the magnus archives #tma #tma spoilers #THE POWER OF LOVE AND TRUST WILL SAVE THE WORLD #also idk the proper format of like image id's but i didn't want to NOT type out the reply #my mag thots #500 notes

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sweetwritertanya · 4 years

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Dressed Up For Halloween (Namjoon)

Summary: Your employer, Big Hit, is hosting a special Halloween party this year. Even though no one knows you are dating, you go and show your boyfriend Namjoon your outfit before the party starts when he is still working at the studio.

Warnings: SMUT! This fic will include: swearing, erotic body touching, blow job, unprotected sex (be smarter IRL people!), missionary position, sex as in a quickie, female masturbation during sex (is this the best way to describe it?), aftercare.

Word Count: 2640

Your excitement could barely be contained as you practically skipped down the street and entered the Big Hit’s building. Your long warm coat kept your selected costume for the party tonight hidden and you had been dying to show it to your boyfriend. Keeping it a secret was almost unbearable, since you two always shared everything with one another.

For the first time ever, the company had decided to host a Halloween themed party for their employees and idols. Everyone was invited and required to come in costume, dinner and drinks on the house. Even a simple dispensable worker as yourself was invited which worked out, since the only person you were interested in spending the day with would also be there.

Namjoon and the rest of the boys would, obviously, be main guests. And even if nobody besides them knew about you and him being together, it presented the perfect cover for you two to attend the same party without having to hide his identity. You would just have to be careful not to get too lovey-dovey in public. Which was a bit hard, since you adored to hold his hand or lean your head on his shoulder whenever you stood beside him. You just had to control yourself tonight.

You knock on the door and his voice tells you to come in. Namjoon had told you he would be working on the studio for as long as he could, inspiration for some lyrics hitting him strongly today of all days. But he still promised to come to the party, so you were here to pick him up and make sure he lived to that promise.

He was sitting on his chair with his back to you as you walk in, closing the door behind you. He seemed busy writing something in his little notebook as well as having some kind of melody going on the computer. As you expected, he wasn’t even dressed yet, in fact wearing a white Fila hoodie and some light-wash denim jeans.

“Baby, you told me you would be dressed up for Halloween” you complaint as you approach him, placing one hand on his shoulder.

“Hum? Oh, yeah, sorry babydoll, I was about to go and change.” Namjoon swirls in his chair as his strong arms come around your wide hips, brushing the skin there with soothing hands. He smiles sheepishly with lips pressed together and dimples showing. “Got distracted. Wait, is that a wig?”

You smile back, because who wouldn’t when he produced that beautiful dimple smile, and lean down to steal an affectionate peck from his lips.

“Yes, it is. Part of my costume. Now, we don’t have much time, so hurry up and save everything you got going on so you can go and change already” you order playfully, stepping away to leave him to his computer. “Oh, and I want you to see my full costume before we go! Any speculations from the long black-haired wig?” You question as you undo your coat and let it slide down your arms to the sofa behind you.

“You know I’m not great guessing things. It’s best of you just tel-”

As Namjoon finishes saving everything up and swirls around in his chair to look at you, his words get stuck in his throat as he loses the ability to breathe for a few long minutes.

Even a skilled song writer like him could not come up with an accurate way to describe how absolutely enthralling you looked. It made his heart jump to his throat and his mouth to go dry as he took it all in, the black tight fabric hugging all of your splendid corves so seductively, the deep v-neckline showing just enough cleavage before the crisscross strings, the slit up to the middle of your succulent upper thigh revealing the shape of your leg, accentuated by the black high-heel shoe. In an outfit made entirely of black, your red lip stood out so captivatingly, and he could only really think of how much he wanted to steal the bright colour with his own mouth, kiss it until it was smudged away.

“What do you think?” you excitedly ask, even giving him a twirl.

Namjoon swallows dry and crosses his legs as he hides half of his face with his large hand, coughing to clear his voice.

“It’s hum… hum, it’s…” he truly couldn’t find the right words, which you mistake with dislike.

“You don’t like it” you sigh with disappointment and confusion. You really thought he would like it, you looked so good in it. He always tried to persuade you to use more tight-fitting clothes since he loves your silhouette so much.

“No! No, it’s not that at all!” he immediately assures, maybe a bit louder than he hoped. “I actually know this one. You’re… You’re Morticia from the Addam’s Family, right?”

“Yeah… So, why the underwhelming reaction? I thought you would love it” you confess, crossing your arms.

“And I unquestionably do. You look so fucking sexy right now. And I can assure you, there is nothing underwhelming about this. If anything, I may be a little too overwhelmed right now.” He coughs again and looks away almost like he was embarrassed, a bit of color rising to his cheeks.

“Sure doesn’t look like it” you pout, unconvinced.

He sighs and keeps his eyes away from you before looking at the ground, seemingly debating with himself for a moment.

“Did… Did you know?” he suddenly asks, only glancing at you for mere seconds before looking back to the floor.

“Know what?”

“That I had a… a thing, let’s call it… for this character when I first saw the movie as a child?”

“You had a ‘thing’ for Morticia when you were a kid? How so?” Intrigued and tickled by such a notion, you actually walk forward and move as if to sit sideways on Namjoon’s lap.

“Wait, babe-!”

Namjoon strangely raises his hands up and tries to stop you, something he had never done before when you sat on his lap, but the memento was already set. You sat your juicy rump on his thighs and that’s when you feel it, poking at the doughy flesh of your left ass cheek.

“Oh my God!” you giggle and bring your hands to cover your smiling lips as your eyes open wide in realization. As for Namjoon, his cheeks are now burning red and he tries to look as further away to the right as he can, hands restless as he wasn’t sure what to do with them.

“She always talked all seductively and all that, okay? And that film is full of sexual tension between her and that husband of yours, so it was not my fault” he murmurs in his defense. “Seeing you like this kind of… brought back old feelings, okay?”

Both amused and sympathetic at his situation, you remain sited on his lap as you take his warm face into your hands and force him to look at you.

“Well… How about I help you with this before we leave for the party, baby?” you suggest with a immodest smirk.

Namjoon raises his eyebrows and widens his small eyes until they became rounded, unsure if he was understanding what you were hinting at. You brush your thumb on top of his wide lips and then capture them for a doubt ending kiss, filled with passion and need. Your mouths melded together as your body melted into his, strong arms coming around your middle and pulling you close by your back.

It doesn’t take long for tongues to tease and play with each other, the smallest of encounters sending sparks down your back that landed in a molten pit of want at the depth of your belly. With each longing movement of your soft lips on top of his, you could feel his problem growing beneath your ass, reminding you of what you had decided to do.

Slowly, almost seamlessly, you move your lips to his chin, then his strong jaw, then down his long delectable neck, stopping just a moment longer by that spot next to his pulse point that you knew drove him crazy. The way he groans almost in a whimper rewards you for taking the time to do so. And then you move away from his lap to instead fall on your knees between his legs, hands set at his muscular thighs and looking up at him with suggestive eyes.

His lips, red from all the kisses and the blood rushing to his cheeks, fall into the cutest ‘o’ shape and he gulps dryly before talking.

“Babydoll, you don’t have to-”

“I know, Jonnie. I want to” you clarify, hands already sneaking their way to his belt.

His head falls back on his chair once your little fingers brush the bulge that had formed in his pants and he knows he couldn’t really do anything, he was at your mercy.

“Now, we don’t have much time before the party starts so, we have to be quick, okay?” you remind him as you pull his pants down. All you get his a struggled grunt and his hands closing into fists. “And don’t pull my hair, remember I’m wearing a wig.”

The erection finally springs free as you lower his boxers and a jolt of lust runs through you at the pretty vision. Standing tall in all its dark pink glory, with a red mushroom head glistening and a particular protruding pulsating vein, his cock always looked so perfect to you. And as much as you wanted to shower him with the attention he deserved, you were on a time crunch.

Therefore, you take one hand to his base and pump the hardening member to complete stiffness, absent-minded gibberish falling from Namjoon’s lips as you do so. Then, taking a deep breath, you let your tongue lick the underside from the bottom to the top before engulfing him into your mouth the furthest you could go.

Namjoon’s body trembles and he gasps when you suddenly take him fully into your mouth, your cheeks hallow and bobbing your head at a nice pace with eyes closed as you concentrated. Your tongue swirls around his thickness and slides from side to side at the skin just bellow his tip, making you feel his cock throbbing against it. Remembering to breathe, you try and add a bit of suctioning to the blow-job, the salty cream flavor you recognized starting to gush from his head.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck, baby, stop! Come here.”

To your confusion, Namjoon grabs you by the underside of your arms and pulls you with him to your feet, breathing hard and flustered, eyes completely darkened with lust. You knew he was about to cum, you couldn’t understand why he stopped you. Until he kisses you hungrily and places you with your back to the cushioned sofa behind you, bringing your legs to hook on either side of his lean hips.

“Namjoon, we can’t, we don’t have time for this” you start to say when his lips instead suck at your neck.

“Like you said, we’ll make it quick. Please, Y/N, babydoll, I need you” he pleads with you, leaning his head back to look at you with desperation. And, fuck, it was hot to be needed like this.

“Fine, hurry up” you concede, biting your bottom lips and throwing your arms around his shoulders, gathering the short hairs at the nape of his neck in your clasp.

Much to his satisfaction, you weren’t wearing any pantyhose, meaning your legs were bare as his fingers traced the skin up under the dress and the only barrier, he had to worry about were your panties. Finding the silky fabric and pulling the center of it aside, Namjoon dips his fingers in between the puffy lips and finds you warm and wet for him. He grunts.

“You’re already so wet for me, baby” he whispers into your ear.

As if to make sure, he slips his fingers into your puckered hole without warning, making you gasp and claw your hands on his shoulder and neck. Both of the fingers he used move with slick perfection only for a few seconds before he extracts them.

The feeling of emptiness left behind only lasts a moment, for soon Namjoon takes himself in hand and plunges back in, that magnificent shaft of his filling you up to the curve of your cervix and stretching your walls heavenly. Heat is rising off of him and he takes little time to start moving, yanking his hips at a fast speed as he chases his release.

His large hands hold you by your waist as he drills himself into your womb, the slapping sound of skin and squelching of your body’s fluids as he pumps in and out joining the sounds of both your and his heaving breathing and erotic moans, pitched with wanton and lust. His cock drags wonderfully against your inner walls and his pelvis smacks repeatedly against yours, so quick and deep that sends ripples across your malleable flesh. The molten pit deep inside your core starts to boil up, this uncontrollable wave of aching relief about to break through the dam.

The slickness of your pussy increases and Namjoon finds himself thrusting faster and faster, slamming his hips into yours at an abnormal increasing speed, hands anchoring himself on your waist so strongly it would leave marks. His whole body screamed tension and his throbbing cock burned inside, so you knew he was close. Even with a veiled brain power, you manage to recognize he was about to cum and you wanted nothing more than to do so with him. So, you bring one hand down your body and wail with a broken voice as you violently rubbed your clit at the same speed he was thrusting.

It happened at the same time, your pussy fluttering and collapsing around his cock as the most sudden wave of unmitigated pleasure crashed through your veins, and his frenzied moves coming to a halt as his cock twitched as released flowed through him like water. Your muscles trembled in relief, back arched away from the sofa’s cushions, before falling to the most relaxed state, while he spilled himself in you with a shuddering body before stilling and catching his breath again.

You both stay like this for a moment, Namjoon leaning down to kiss your smudged red lips amorously. He then spills out, hurrying to get on his feet and entering the adjacent small bathroom he had on the studio, coming back with a towel that he uses to clean up the mess he made.

You watch as he gently cleans your lower lips, tapping the soft towel until it’s all nice and mostly dry, and then rearranging the twisted panties until they sit comfortably on you. You sit back up on the couch when he is done and kiss his cheek, searching in your purse for your lipstick so you can reapply it properly.

“Go ahead and change, Jonnie. I should be going ahead anyway, the party is about to start” you say as you use the mirror in the bathroom.

“If you told me you would be Morticia, I could have dressed up as Gomez today” he tells you, with a voice still a bit rough from sex, which you loved.

“We can’t be in a couple’s costume, babe. No one knows we’re together, remember?” you swing your arms around his middle and look up at him with a resigning pout.

“Yet” he adds, quite firmly. “Maybe next year?”

You beam, pull him down for a peck and start to walk away towards the studio’s door, unable to keep yourself from smiling.

“Maybe next year” you agree before walking out.

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