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knjsnoona · 3 years

Text

Restoration

genre: smut || slice of life pairing: jin x reader word Count: 10.1k rating: 18+ warnings: language, light dom!jin, explicit sexual descriptions, choking, fingering summary: Return to your childhood hone with your partner, Jin only to discover how much it’s changed. project: this part of the bcc summer games event~ it’s was for the image prompt which is the one under the name of the fic in the banner lol this was meant to be short, but then i included this whole first half smh credits: a HUGE thank you goes to my amazing beta reader @destructiveasparagus ! helped me find where my weaknesses lie and super incredibly helpful in how to learn from my mistakes! thank you so so much! i hope to improve with my future works!

It had been a long time since you’d been to your hometown, so long you barely recognized it as you drove in with your fiancé. Streets you once ran around on as a child—knowing each backstreet like the back of your hand—now seemed like the paths of a maze; roads that stirred distant memories of laughter and joy.

Eyes catching new shops where your favorite childhood hangouts once stood, a dull ache laced with both nostalgia and discomfort begins to stir within you. It seems the town had decided to be more modern… more suburban you guessed. It kind of made you sad if you were honest with yourself. You were expecting to return to the home you once loved, and to be bathed in the memories of each corner, shop, and alley.

Becoming more frustrated with each new sight you didn’t recognize, you sink into your seat releasing a sigh. Crossing your arms loosely over your chest, you look down at your knees. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you pondered what your neighborhood would look like. You hoped against hope that at least that small corner of your memories wouldn’t be betrayed.

“You okay?”

Catching your attention, you look to the side at your fiancé who had turned to look at you as he made a stop at a red light. His handsome features twisted into concern, which brought a small smile to your lips. Softly nodding, you try to assuage his worries.

“I’m fine, Seokjin. Just realizing how long it’s been since I was home is all,” melancholy weaving into your voice, gaze forlornly sweeping out the windows of the vehicle again.

“Changed that much, huh?” eyes still on you, every so often shuffling to make sure the street light hadn’t changed yet.

You nod, watching as a couple of teenage girls walk with some name brand iced coffees in their hands, eyes glued to their phones, as they giggled about something mundane. Feeling like a creep for staring, you shake your head and look back at the man by your side. “It’s definitely changed.... too much.”

God, you’d never identified with a boomer harder than you did at this very moment. Words of when I was kid at the tip of your tongue, wanting to rant about all the things you remembered as a kid and how it had been ruined now. You’d never regretted leaving home before, not until this moment. All of your treasured spots, destroyed by gentrification. How depressing.

But then you look at what you had gained from your departure from home and you realize how silly you’re being. You had found tons of struggle out in the world on your own. Learned what it was like to truly live in a woman’s world; having to work twice as hard for half the pay of a man; earning the way you had to always be cautious and on the lookout for dangers that lurked around every corner when the sun went down; learned how to pick yourself back up and work harder, when you were passed up on a promotion in favor of the manager’s son.

But you made it through every obstacle. You were a fighter, and never shied away from fighting to get what you wanted. To deal with the dangers of walking around at night, you took self defense classes. You quit the job that underpaid you. And when the manager at that other job finally offered you that promotion, you gave them your two weeks. You decided to take a position at a startup company that saw your worth, valued your opinions and took your ideas into consideration. A company where you were promoted and given more power to help it grow. It had grown into a multimillion-dollar business. Whose technology had been implemented in every hospital in the country. And the genius behind its creation and production sat by your side.

Kim Seokjin had been a godsend. You’d bumped into him one night at a bar after a particularly rough day of work. You had dropped into the seat beside him, not sparing a single glance his way as you ordered a beer. Shoulders slumping, you rubbed at your eyes in frustration pushing your tears back in. Noticing your distress, he reached out to you. He asked after your well being, taking you by surprise. Cautiously you spoke to him that night, only to be pleasantly surprised by his kind nature. While sharing the struggles of your days with each other, he brought up his start up and how he was looking to fill the position. Handing you a card before you both parted ways, he offered you a position without even knowing your qualifications.

Long story short, you took the position, worked your way up and fell in love with the company's CEO. Of course, there were those that always felt the need to fill the office with unnecessary drama. Hushed whispers in the break rooms, and muttered words across the cubicles of how you had slept your way to the top. But you shrugged them all off, no water off a duck’s back right? Besides, how do you sleep your way to the top of a tiny startup? There was no top or bottom. The tomfoolery of the envious, honestly.

The car jerking into motion brings you back to the present. Blinking the memories of the past decade or so out of the way. Vision returning to your present day home town, suddenly not so bothered by the changes. Your home had grown up and adapted, just as you had. That thought alone brings a smile to your face. A hand slipping over your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze, making you completely beam as you take Jin's hand in your own ringed hand. Placing a soft kiss on the back of his hand, as you hold it tenderly in your lap, his quiet laugh filling the space in the car as you continued on your way.

Some ten minutes later, you pull up the front of your childhood home; warmth filling your chest as you notice how little it’s changed. Aside from a few cosmetic changes it was still the same. And there they were, all the memories rushing in at once. The feelings you had been anticipating finally hit you. Now you felt like you were truly home as you were surrounded by all the wonderful memories of your childhood.

A gentle hand on your lower back brings you back, you smile up at Jin who stands by your side. A reassuring smile adorns his plush lips, as he rubs small circles on your back in a show of support and affection.

“You ready?”

Taking one large lung full of air, you hold it for a couple beats before deflating and nodding up at him. The steadying warmth of his hand on your lower back fills you with all the confidence you needed as you made your way up the stone patch.

Worries of how your family would react to you being back niggling the back of your mind. You tried to keep in touch as much as you could but there were times it was almost impossible due to financial stability or work load. Damn, a small bit of guilt began to bloom in your chest. So you stand frozen, finger just a few inches from the doorbell. Maybe you should’ve called before showing up.

Sensing your internal struggle, Jin wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. Plush lips press to the crown of your head leaving a quick kiss. “Everything’s going to be fine, babe,” he whispers into your hair.

“How do you know? I mean- I’ve been gone so long… they have to be angry with me. What if they think I don't care?” you fret, teeth gnawing at the inside of your bottom lip, hands twisting into the hem of your shirt, wrinkling the smooth fabric in the anxiety.

Chuckling softly, the arm around you turns you to face the tall male. Eyes roam your face, a warmth in them that always somehow seem to soothe your nerves. And sooth they did as you could feel your worries begin to ebb away.

“Hey, none of that,” he chastises, as he presses his hand lightly to your jaw, thumb tugging your bottom lip down. “You’re going to chew yourself raw. And we don’t want that. I don’t want you hurting yourself.” He places a gentle kiss on your lips as if to soothe away any stinging there.

Your lips can’t help but spread into a smile at how he was being such a mother hen. He was always like this, not just with you but with his employees as well. It’s what made him such a good boss, and an even better partner. Lady luck was feeling extremely generous the day she led you to Jin in that quaint bar.

Returning your smile, he quickly places multiple kisses around your face—on your nose, your cheeks, and your forehead. Arms wrapping around your waist to hold you close, as you giggle at the onslaught of kisses he bestowed you with. The sound of his mirth joining yours, pulling back to hold your cheeks gently. Eyes looking into your own as he assures you, “Everything is going to be fine, so stop stressing for once. We’re here to relax okay?”

Sighing, you nod with a smile still perched on your face. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“Of course, I am. And the most handsome!” all the confidence in the world seeping out of his words, smugness painting over his pretty features.

You scoff playfully, smacking his arm. “And yet you like claiming you’re humble,” shaking your head you turn back to the door and ring the doorbell without hesitation.

“Well, I’m not bragging if it’s a fact,” comes his witty retort which has your eyes rolling. This was nothing new with him, the man knew he was good looking. I mean you’d have to be blind to not think so as well. But you know, can’t let his ego inflate too big.

“I don’t know… I've seen better looking,” you shrug nonchalantly as you press the doorbell again, hoping someone was actually home. Yeah, you definitely should’ve called ahead.

“What? Where? Who is he!? Wait, are you talking about that kid in marketing? What’s his name?” he instantly barrages you with a succession of questions, jealousy bleeding into his tone. “That pretty boy with the deep voice! You-”

He’s suddenly cut off by the jingling of a handle and the lock being turned, as the door swings open. Your mother stands before you, surprise marring her features. Features that remained the same after all these years, a few wrinkles showing her age joined the painting that was your mother’s face. You’d pictured—imagined—scenarios of seeing her again, of how it would go but the feelings you felt now were far more intense than anything your mind could conjure up. .

You were sure the shock she wore was mirrored by you, as you stood there taking the other in. Your heart hammered away at your chest, pumping emotions into every vein throughout your body until it began to leak out of your eyes. As the first drop made it’s journey down your cheek, you stepped forward prompting your mother to mirror your actions, crashing into each other's arms. You didn’t realize you could miss someone so much and up until that point had been unaware that you had missed being held in the arms of your mother.

You could feel her tears seep through the shirt on your shoulder, happy greetings and words blubbered in excitement. Laughing you pull back enough to look at her, a watery smile greeting you.

“I’ve missed you, Momma,” your voice trembling with the emotions overtaking you.

“I’ve missed you too, sweet pea. I’m so happy to see you safe and healthy. I was worried you weren’t eating well this whole time. I know how you can get, you get too involved in what you’re working on and forget to eat,” your mother rambles on, word vomit just pouring out of her. All the words she hasn’t been able to share with you now fill the space between you. As a teenager you would’ve been annoyed, but now as a grown adult you were endeared by her light nagging.

“She still does that,” Jin's voice catching both of your attention. “Not eat, I mean.��

You turn to him, a self-satisfied smile on his lips, and an incredulous look on yours. Wow, not even two minutes, and he was already selling you out to your mother. You shake your head at him, eyes trying to signal for him to stop. He simply chuckles back.

“Oh is that right?” Your mother gives you a look, before looking back at your handsome partner. “And who might this be?” Eyebrows raise in question to you.

“Oh! I’m so sorry. Momma, this is my, um, fiancé, Kim Seokjin. Jin this is my mother,” you awkwardly introduce them. Biting the corner of your lip as you look at your mother out of the corner of your eye.

She looks at you, surprised at your engaged status, which you hadn’t had the chance to bring up during the brief, rare calls home. You can see the message hidden in her eyes, we’ll talk about this later, before turning to Jin. “It's a pleasure to finally meet you. My, you’re a handsome one.”

You close your eyes and internally groan before turning to Jin pointing a cocky smile your way. He sure was annoying when he was proven right. Gloating prick.

He gives you a quick eyebrow wiggle before turning to smile at your mother. “You’re too kind, really,” acting embarrassed, as he rubs the back of his neck and bows in gratitude once more.

“Oh! And he’s modest!” your mothers cheers delightedly.

Wow, he pulled the fake modesty card. You shake your head at him as you quietly scoff, lips almost quirked in a smile, as he winks at you. He was something else. But he was your something else. He was worth it. Headaches, terrible jokes and all.

“So… is anyone else home?” you questioned, curious as to whether your father, or if any of your siblings, were around. You weren’t sure if they’d be as welcoming as your mother, but her warmth and acceptance of you returning gave you the confidence to continue forward.

Your mother nods at you excitedly, wrapping an arm around yours and moving you towards the door. Jin follows behind amused as your mother explains how one of your aunts was visiting with her family, and how a couple of your siblings were in town. She went a mile a minute, spewing out even the latest family gossip—your father’s brother had cheated on his wife, your cousin had come out of the closet after being caught mid act (“What a scandalous event that was!”) and even how your mother’s eldest sister had beat breast cancer.

You sighed happily as you let your mother lead the way, Jin flanking behind you. Man it felt good to be home.

“We got incredibly lucky,” you said loudly, as you placed a small pile of folded clothes in a drawer. Pacing back over to the suitcase on the bed, pulling out your underwear to place in the same drawer to one side.

“What?” Jin called from the room over.

“I said we got lucky!” you replied, voice louder than before.

“Lucky?”

“Yeah. We‘re lucky they didn’t charge a cancellation fee at the hotel.”

Your mother, after making the rounds with the family, had insisted you stay in your old room. You were surprised that it had remained as you had left it. You were sure it would’ve been turned into a home gym by now, or a man cave for your brother that was still home. The fact that it was still intact, filled you with emotion. Your mother must have held out hope you’d come back, so when she insisted you agreed, unable to deny her request.

Of course there was the task of cancelling your hotel reservation, which everyone knows last minute cancellations come with some hefty cancellation fees. You felt bad as you had dialed the number on your cell, but Jin assured you it was fine and was worth it if you were happy.

As Jin worked on unloading the luggage, you spoke with the concierge who upon looking up the reservation, gifted you with the surprise of not incurring a late fee. You had been surprised and tried to verify the cancellation policy to which the male on the other end confirmed there would be no charge and wished you a pleasant day. You returned the sentiment as you hung up and looked at your partner in mild stupor before relaying the information to which he raised his eyebrows and shrugged, bringing in the rest of your belongings.

“You're still stuck on that?” he points out, humor ringing in his voice.

“Well, isn’t it a bit surprising to you?” you huff, cheeks puffing a bit in a pout.

“I guess…” he trails off momentarily. You could hear the gears turning before he returned with, “Maybe it’s because they saw who I was.”

“What? Why would that matter?” You had a feeling you knew where this was going, and could already feel your eyes preemptively rolling.

“Because, I’m the youngest, most handsome CEO in the nation.” A wheezing laugh following his words, almost sounding like windshield wipers.

Your eyes roll so hard, you see the back of your skull, and into an alternate universe. Why did you put up with him again? And as the sound of a door opening fills the space, you remember one of the reasons as he walks through the door. Towel wrapped loosely around his hips, muscles flexing as he rubbed his hair dry with another towel, he stood in all his glory. Your eyes chase drops of water running down his wet skin, swallowing hard where they disappear into the material knotted around his narrow hips.

“Sweetheart, you’re making me blush with all the ogling,” he chuckles smugly. “I get it though.”

You snap out of your daze, eyes narrowing at his cocky face in annoyance. Shaking your head, you choose to ignore him—turning back to your bag, grabbing some of your toiletries to place on the dresser. Distracted by your task you don’t notice Jin walk up behind you, until you’re tugged back into his wet torso.

“You know,” he mutters into your ear, “I haven’t forgotten that little quip from earlier.” One of his large hands slides up your body, finding its home wrapped around your jaw. He tilts your head back into his shoulder, his other arm wrapping around your waist to pull you further into his form. “You think that kid in the office is better looking than me.”

You take a few calming breaths, body becoming alert with excitement as Jin invades your space. Every word and touch begins to stir desire within you.

“I never said that. You assumed… you know what they say about when you assume,” you can’t help but gibe, lips tugging up in a smirk.

A growl rumbles through you as the grip on your jaw tightens slightly. “Don't be a smart ass… I’ve seen the way you look at him, when you think no one is aware. I’m not an idiot.”

You chuckle, unable to help yourself. His jealous words turn you on more than they should.

“I can’t help it if he’s pretty to look at,” you state complacently.

“Pretty?” he chuckles at your audacity, grip tightening slightly around your jaw. Swinging your jaw away from the direction of his face, the feel of his lips brushing the shell of your ear makes you shiver. “You do look at him. Tell me, do you fantasize about him?”

Your eyes shut, the warmth of his breath traveling through your trapped body; an aching starting to pulse between your thighs. Hands moving back to rest on his towel covered thighs to help maintain balance, but more importantly to assist in feeling grounded.

“You do, don't you…?” His nose nuzzles at your ear, lips pressing behind your ear. “Is that why you stare? Because you imagine what it would be like to have him inside you?” the arm wrapped around your waist loosens, hand traveling south to the apex of your thighs.

You bite your lip, unable to answer his questions. His touch leaves trails of flames wherever they roam, burning any words from you. His words are simmering your blood.

“Is your silence an admission?” he says with a slight edge to his voice. “You imagine him sliding into you? Taking you? As if you're his?” His grip on your jaw moves to your throat, fingers wrapping deliciously around the smooth muscle and flesh.

“You’ll never be his,” he hisses. The hand between your thighs grips your core tightly, a whine escaping your lips at the slight pain and pleasure. “This,” grip tightening for emphasis, “is mine! Your cunt belongs to me. My cock will be the only one to ever claim it,” Jin growls into your ear, hips pressing his hard member into your ass.

Fuck, that was enough to ruin your underwear. His words release the floodgates, slick escaping your lower lips to soak your panties. The growl rumbling against your back, and vibrating in your ear has your mind blanking for a moment, thighs clenching involuntarily around his wrist.

“Turned on by that?” he crows, self gratification filling every word. “Do you like hearing me claim you? The affirmation that no other man will ever ruin this pretty pussy like me?”

Your breath hitches, a strong pulse running through your body like seismic activity relaying that an eruption is imminent. With the way Jin is rutting into your back, hand gently petting your mound, it was only a matter of time before he had you bursting in ecstasy.

His lips lightly trail up and down the shell of your ear, removing his hand from your throat to grip at your jaw and tilt your face up at him. Faces so close, your noses brush, breaths intermingling. He pulls back his head, looking down at you as the corner of his lip lifts in smirk just as he shoves his other hand under the band of your underwear. Long, warm fingers softly run over your lips, massaging gentle circles into them.

Licking his luscious lips, he hisses when one his fingers swipes between your lips. “Fuck,” he groans, biting his thick lip. “You’re this wet from a few words... '' A finger swirling around your opening, spreading your juices. The digit slides up to your sensitive nub, giving it the same attention. Pressing down with a bit of pressure, rolling it around making you arch your back, eyes clenching.

You feel Jin nudge your nose with his own, brushing his lips against yours. Eyes fluttering open, they meet his dark eyes, completely blow black from his arousal. Pink muscle slipping from his lips, sliding across yours teasingly while his hips slowly press against yours to get a bit of relief as your hands grip the towel resting over his flexing thighs. Your lips part, inviting his devilish tongue in, the prelude of you parting your legs for his length.

Taking the invitation, Jin shoves his tongue into your awaiting mouth. The moist muscle wrestling with yours as you kiss each other desperately. Both of you beyond the point of slow and steady when he shoves two digits into your core, his mouth trapping the groan he rips out of you. With no patience, the digits set a steady pace as his palm presses into your clit. Your hips buck at the sudden onslaught of stimulation. Your lips crash against each other like waves, teeth clacking as you try to get closer.

He pulls back from the kiss provoking a whine from you. His jaw clenches as his fingers fuck into your hole, scissoring your walls, preparing you for him. You press your ass into him, feeling how hard he is, your walls quiver around his fingers.

“No more,” you moan quietly.

“What’s wrong, baby? Too much?” he lazily grins down at you, grinding the palm of his palm down on your nub.

Your eyebrows pinch at the stimulation, lips parting without a sound escaping before you’re able to gather your senses again. “No… no more foreplay.” Your lusty gaze meets his, your chest heaving as you try to even it out. “I want you inside me now,” reaffirming how it was only him you wanted.

He pulls you into a hard kiss, pulling his hand out of your pants. Releasing your jaw, he yanks your pants and underwear down your thighs. Lifting your legs to kick them off, he rotates your bodies to walk you back into the bed, nearly ripping your shirt off you. You almost fall as your legs hit the bed, ripping his lips from yours. You both gasp for air as you stare at each other for a moment.

His hand slides into your hair, scratching soothingly at your scalp before gripping it in a firm hold. Turning your face to the side, he leans in, licking a stripe up your neck to your ear. He takes the lobe of your ear between his teeth teasingly tugging it. Pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear, he nuzzles the hair behind it, breath tickling your ear pleasurably.

“Turn around. I want you bent over this bed, with your ass in the air for me. I want to see how your cunt weeps for me.”

His words strike a hard cord within you, goosebumps appearing all over your flesh. You bite your lip, turning your body away from him and move into position. Feeling it wasn’t enough, he uses the grip on your strands to push you down further into the comforter, back completely arched now.

Strands slipping between his fingers as he removes his hand, the other palms your ass cheek, pulling it to the side to look at your core. The groan that leaves him makes you clench.

“Look how pretty… so wet and inviting. Look how your hole clenches, begging for my dick.” His other hand grabs onto the opposite cheek, pulling it away to open you even more to him. Pressing his hips to yours, he slots his length against your soaked lips. Slowly rubbing his member up and down, lubricating himself with your slick.

Every word makes you clench, the desire raging inside you growing desperate for him to fill you. Every throb of the thick shaft almost makes you delirious.

Eyes previously squeezed shut flutter open, as your hands grip the comforter. A childish print catches your attention, suddenly the realization hits you. You’re back at your childhood home, in a house full of relatives. You weren’t alone in this house, and they weren’t asleep. Now that you had awareness, you could hear them beyond the door chattering. You had let lust get away with you.

“Jin wait…” you hiss.

He stops all movement, one of hands gently petting your lower back. “Did I hurt you? Are you okay?” worry slipping into his words.

“No no. You didn’t hurt me. I just… I realized we’re not alone. We can’t do this here. My family is right out there,” you explain in a loud whisper, trying to look at him over your shoulder.

Silence reigns for a moment.

“So?” Jin's single word pierces the quiet.

“What?” you question, baffled by his nonchalance.

“What does that matter?” He shifts before pressing against you, the head of his cock prodding at your bud. He leans over your back, hands resting on your hips. “It doesn’t bother me, and it never has to you either. You never complain when I fuck you in my office, surrounded by all of our coworkers... our employees.”

You swallow hard.

“In fact, you love initiating it. Teasing me in front of them, riling me up.” His hips thrust, length slipping between your lower lips, cushioned comfortably between them.

“T-that’s different.” you try to argue, but his throbbing manhood against you makes it hard. “Thi-this is my family… who I haven't seen in a long time. I can’t h-have them thinking badly of me.”

He’s quiet but for a minute before wrapping a hand around your mouth. “Then you better keep quiet,” is the quick warning he hisses in your ear as he pushes his length into you.

His hand traps the sound of your yelp. Your walls stretch deliciously but sting at his abrupt intrusion as he buries himself completely. He doesn’t move, allowing you to adjust, placing gentle kisses over your shoulder. His hand massages circles into your hip.

Unable to verbally notify him it was okay to move, you opt for using your hips as you push back against him. Getting the hint, his hips pull back slowly before pushing back in at the same agonizingly passive pace. Lips still pressing kisses to your soft skin, hips lazily snapping into you .

You whine, wanting more.

“Needy already,” he chuckles and places one last kiss to your flesh before standing to his full height. Both hands now resting on your hips, pulling you back so he can grind himself inside your spongy walls. “Remember, not a sound. Your family is out there.”

What a jackass, you can’t help but think as you glare back at him, that damn cocky smile on his lips. You open your mouth to retort but it quickly snaps shut as he pulls back and snaps back in. The action was so hard, you almost thought he’d speared straight into your stomach.

He slides out slowly again before plunging roughly back in. Filling you so completely, each hard impale burning pleasurably. Hands sliding to push your cheeks apart, he watches himself disappear between your folds as he sets a steady pace.

The sound of your sex gushing with each probe of his shaft makes you grow wetter. Slick running down the inside of your thighs, as he pushes it out of you, clit pulsing with each invasion.

It isn’t long before he angles his hips, in search of that spot he enjoys so much. It’s with one particular push that he finds it, as you lifted onto your toes and arched your back signaling him. A whine trapped behind teeth that bite down hard on your lips as he hits it again is all the confirmation he needs.

He sets about burrowing into you, head meeting that patch of spongy tissue over and over;building an inferno in the pit of your stomach with each visit. Your legs begin to tremble as you part your lips.

“H-harder, please,” you quietly moan, almost breathless, trying to keep your volume down.

“Whatever my baby wants, she gets.” His thrusts turn piercing. Hips smacking into yours hard, hands gripping you bruisingly hard. Over the smacks of your hips that filled the room, you can hear him groan softly with each shove. It made you clench around him, causing his hips to stutter briefly before returning to their bruising pace.

“Your pussy is so hot and wet. You're soaking my thighs baby,” he groans out, smacking into you harder. “Squeezing me so tight, begging me to fuck you harder.”

A smack to your behind pulls a yelp from you. Panicking, you bring a hand to cover your mouth, hoping no one heard that. Worry niggling at you again before it’s promptly fucked right out of you by Jin's hips speeding up their brutal pace.

“I wish I could hear you baby,” he rasps, sounding just as breathless as you are. “I want to hear you moan for me… begging to cum… I want to hear you scream my name.”

You feel the bed dip beside you, as he places a foot down. Elevating his leg, he creates a new angle to spear your core. Hands finding purchase above your hips, he anchors his hold, hips pulled back.

“Remember… we don't want to get found out.”

With those words he pushes into you quickly and roughly. Each thrust drags you to and fro on the bed, rubbing your nipples raw against the material. His hips unrelenting in their assault of you. Pistoning deep, making sure to brush your g-spot with each insertion.

His actions have you crying into the comforter, as it catches and cushions your cries, groans and mantras of his name. Hands clenching the material so tight, your fingers were going numb. You wanted to fuck back into him, but his tight grip on you and his brutal pace allowed no room to.

“Fuck your so good to me. Your pussy is so perfect. So tight and warm. And it's. Only. Mine.” Accentuating each word with a sharp thrust. Laying his full claim to your core.

Fingers wrapping in your tangled strands, he guides you to stand, back leaning against his chest as the other hand grips your throat, fingers pressing down on your pressure points. The pressure fueling the fire of your impending orgasm, as the new angle only adds fuel to the already roaring wildfire.

“Who does your cunt belong to?” he growls into your ear.

You hardly breath, nevermind gracing him with an answer. But as he adds pressure to your throat, you gasp out, “You.”

“That’s right,” he moans, self-satisfied, slowing his pace to grind into you slow and deep. “Mine. Only mine to ruin. Only mine to paint with my cum.”

His words hit you hard, as you clench hard around him, groaning in sync with him as waves pulse through you. You were so close, you knew he could tell as the fingers previously tangled in your hair, now pressed circles into the bundle of nerves buried in your folds.

You throw your head back, gasps of air leaving your parted lips. Your nails dig into the sweaty flesh of his thighs, hips bucking back into his. You try your hardest to not be too loud, as your face twists into nothing but pure pleasure.

You were so close, so close you were quietly pleading Jin to cum. His name becomes a prayer on your lips, that fuels his own need. The sound of his name desperately falling from your lips makes him almost feral in the way he fucks you. Plunging into you so hard and fast, that the unmistakable sounds of flesh slapping flesh could be heard through the room, the sound accompanied by the filthy sounds of your dripping arousal.

A guttural moan leaves your lips, as he pinches your bud, which he promptly cuts off by slotting his mouth over yours. Kissing you greedly, wanting to swallow every wanton sound.

The next moment, a fire spreads through your veins, as your whole body seizes at the arrival of your orgasm. Loud moans of pleasure, swallowed as promised by Jin's mouth as he kisses you sloppily. Your hips buck into his digits as they continue to stimulate your nub.

Jin’s hips continue to push through your ever tightening walls and begin to stutter in their assault, just before he pushes deep inside as you feel him paint your walls. Now it’s your turn to ingest all the sounds of his orgasm. The hand around your throat tightens, making you light headed with pleasure, as his other hand over stimulates your nub, thighs tightening to stop him.

Milking himself dry, he soon slows down and comes to a complete stop. Pulling your lips apart, a string of saliva keeps your bruised lips connected. The grip around your hips sustains your standing position, as your legs feel weak post orgasm.

Jin’s ever softening length, slips out of you making you both shiver. Gentle as he could be, he guides you to take a seat on the bed.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you at all?” He looks you over, checking for any bruises from his manhandling.

This is what made him such an amazing lover. How caring he is about his partner after making love to them. It was always so fascinating to see him turn from domineering to self-effacing. Always taking care to ask how you felt after, soothing any places he may have gone too far and holding you gently in his arms.

It simply warms your heart, as you smile up at his broad shouldered form standing before you. Placing a hand over the one he’d placed on your cheek and giving it a reassuring squeeze, you say, “I’m fine, Jin. I always am when I'm with you,”

He beams down at you just before he places a kiss lovingly on your forehead. Thumb caressing your cheek, resting his forehead against yours. A warmth radiating from his eyes as he traps you in his gaze.

“I love you.”

Your heart skips a beat at the words said so simply, stomach a buzz with a storm of bees. You would never tire of hearing him say them to you, always feeling like the first time he’d confessed the depth of his feelings.

“I love you more,” you return, biting your lip giddily.

A smile reaches his eyes, as he grins widely. His cheeks puff up, giving him the look of an adorable squirrel storing acorns. His lips press to yours, no movement necessary. Just a simple press, feeling more intimate than what you had previously been engaged in.

He pulls back with a questioning look in his eyes, when he feels you shiver, almost spilling from his lips before you speak.

“Sorry, um just felt it slipping out of me,” you murmur, embarrassed, eyes not meeting his.

He chuckles, wide shoulders shaking in his mirth. Kissing you again he mutters, “You’re so cute sometimes.”

Slipping an arm around your back and one beneath your knees, he lifts you effortlessly. You wrap your arms around his neck, looking at him in confusion. He ignores your inquisitive eyes, making his way to the door he’d left not long before that led to your en suite bathroom.

“I think we should take a shower.”

“You just had a shower.”

“Yes, but after working up a sweat I need another, and together we can help preserve water.”

You roll your eyes, skeptical of him. “Sure, but no funny business!”

“No promises.”

You disappear into the bathroom with you protesting and Jin laughing.

You had been back home for a couple of days, and it had been enjoyable to say the least. Getting settled in, introducing Jin to more of your family that stopped by when they heard about your return, catching up with the extended family, and even some of your friends who still lived in town.

Jin seemed happy to be able to relax, your family welcoming him completely. He had admitted to you how much he appreciated being welcomed with open arms. He loved how large your family was, and the affection they shared so easily, compared to his small family of just his parents and himself.

You knew he also loved that they ate up his terrible jokes like hotcakes. Not to mention how your mother seemed to love cooking him meals, always blushing when he praised the meals and asking for seconds. It was also obvious how much your family stroked his ego when they complimented his looks. You knew this would be bad once the time came for you to go back to your shared home, ego so inflated you weren’t sure you’d be able to fit in the car with him. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t content at how things had turned out.

You had only gone out once since arriving, taking a stroll through the new town center, hands held in his as he listened attentively to you recount tales of your childhood. Every so often you’d stop and point out a location, describing what once took up residence in the spot of a newly erected business or apartment complex. You had stayed out till the sun had begun to make its descent, ice creams in hand as you walked back to your home.

It was that same evening upon returning home to have dinner with your family—filling your family in on your adventures—that your mother informed you about the state of your favorite place growing up. Feeling your heart drop, as she described it in more detail. When you had made your way to your room afterwards, Jin had stopped you and asked you if you wanted to visit the location. After hearing your mother’s disheartening news you weren’t sure, but Jin simply encouraged you to go see it with your own eyes.

That’s how you now found yourself tripping over a root as you trekked through the small forest not far from your parent’s home. A large hand steadying you before you eat dirt, you murmur a thank you before continuing on your way. It’s not long before you reach a clearing, that only cements your mother’s words as true. Your sad eyes survey the once beautiful lake, now nothing but a public garbage disposal. The water was murky, filled with so much debris and garbage it looked like sludge. The land surrounding the water was no better. The once pristine swimming hole was now a small landfill.

Placing a hand on your shoulder, you feel Jin give you a comforting squeeze. You rest your hand over his, intertwining your fingers, you sigh defeatedly, turning to bury your face in his chest. Wrapping his arms around you, he kisses the crown of your head and lays his cheek on it. The two of you bathe in the silence, all signs of forest life now muted in the wake of the destruction of their home. You doubted anyone even still lived here, the land so completely uninhabitable.

“This place used to be so beautiful,” you muse dejectedly, laying your cheek over his heart. “So full of life…”

Jin glides his fingers through your hair, listening closely.

“As a kid, I used to think this was the secret home of a fairy kingdom. Where a kind prince ruled over his subjects with a gentle fist. Adding color, and brilliance to nature here. At least, that’s the story my mother would tell,” you regale him, hands clutching his thin shirt.

“When she would bring my siblings and I here, and the water shimmered so beautifully, she’d say it was the fairy prince welcoming us to play in his kingdom. And when we’d visit in the evening once the sun had dipped down, balls of blinking lights dancing through the cool air, she’d say they were the fairies dancing in glee at our visit.”

You could feel tears form behind your lash line, tilting your head up as to not let them fall. You feel childish speaking of fairy tales to your fiancé, growing upset to the point you’re about to cry over it. Yet you couldn’t help yourself. This place was such a large part of your childhood, and if you were honest with yourself, it was the place you had been most anxious to visit. To see it destroyed to this degree broke your heart.

Sensing the dive in your emotions, Jin pulls back, taking your face in his hands, eyes roaming over your face in sympathy. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. Maybe we can do something.”

You tilt your head, wondering what he could mean. Blinking up at him, wet lashes sticking together. “What do you mean?”

Placidly smiling down at you, his thumb wipes away the stray tears beneath your eyes. “I don’t know, maybe we could try to clean up. Try to restore it to its former glory,” he shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets, eyes sweeping the clearing.

You stupidly blink at him, mouth slightly ajar. Your heart begins to swell with so much affection that it feels as if it could pop out of your chest. The waterworks come back full force, lips trembling with emotion.

Noticing your silence he glances back to you, eyes widening with panic, hands hovering in front of him in uncertainty. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Was it something I said?”

Shaking your head, you throw your arms around him. Burrowing your face into his neck, standing on your tiptoes. “I love you so much,” you tearfully declare.

He returns your hold, lifting you up, an affectionate smile pulling at his plump lips. “What’s all this for, you big softie?” he teasingly murmurs.

“I just… I just feel so lucky to be with you.” You can’t help the emotions pouring out of you, unable to keep them inside when it comes to him. You weren’t sure what you had done in this life to deserve him, but you swore to whatever entity was out there that you would prove yourself worthy of him. For all the days you were gifted with being by his side, you would be the best partner possible.

“Well you are pretty blessed to look upon this handsome face every day.”

You smack his arm, body shaking with restrained laughter. “You’re incorrigible!” you exclaim, barely containing the joy glowing on your face.

Windshield wiper screeches fill the air, as he backs away from you rubbing at the spot you’d hit. His laugh was something uniquely him that always called attention. No matter whether you found it odd, or not, it always made you join him. It was a trait you found completely endearing.

Your laughs begin to quiet, a few residual chuckles escaping you. You look at each other, affection and mirth mirroring one another.

“Did you really mean it?”

He hums questioningly, raising his brows.

“About trying to clean up here?”

“Of course, I do,” he nods. “We’ve still got a few more days left here. We can go buy industrial trash bags, maybe some equipment to help us pick up the garbage, and we’ll definitely need some protection,” he continues to list off.

A smile growing on your own lips, you hug his arm, squirming against him excitedly. “Okay! Let’s do it!”

“Yeah?” he questions, amused at your behavior. You nod enthusiastically and chuckle, beginning to walk off. “Well, what are we waiting for? No time like the present right?”

You agree, a pep to your step excitedly discussing the possibility of hopefully saving a part of your childhood.

“It’s so hot!” you whine, stretching your aching back as you wipe the sweat from your forehead. You roll your neck, trying to loosen your tense muscles from being hunched over with the trash pick-up stick.

Since your first visit to the Fae Kingdom, which you had taken to calling it affectionately, you had spent the last few days clearing the area around the body of sludge. It was hard labor and the two of you always arrived home sorely exhausted, passing out as soon as your bodies hit the bed. On a couple of occasions, your siblings joined you carrying some of the workload.

Thanks to their help and the determination to see things through, you were actually able to now see the floor of the hidden glade. There wasn’t much trash left, so you were currently taking care of what was left while Jin was using a pool skimmer to collect the junk in the lake.

It was a particularly sunny, and humid day. The air felt incredibly thick with moisture, making it a bit harder to breathe. Not to mention how you were sweating buckets. You had both shed some layers, hating how uncomfortable it felt to have the fabric sticking to your skin.

After complaining about the heat, you toss your stick on the ground, making your way over to a small blanket you laid out to take breaks. Lowering onto your knees, you grab a bottle of water and take a generous gulp. The cool liquid soothes your rising body temperature. Capping the bottle, you roll it on your forehead, trying to cool yourself down.

Rolling back on your knees, you land with a soft thud on your behind, enjoying the shade the tall trees provided. Taking a deep breath, you release it slowly before choking on it. Coughing violently, as your eyes almost bug out of your head.

Standing about ten feet in front of you, by the edge of the water was a broad shouldered god. Muscles flexing beneath lightly sun kissed skin, beads of sweat rolling down his back, burly arms bulging with each bend as he lifts the skimmer out of the water.

How in the hell was this herculean man real?

You sigh in awe, before looking up, hands clasped together as you whisper a thank you up above.

“What are you doing?”

You jump as his voice breaks the quiet atmosphere. Your eyes hastily fall on him as you reply in a high pitch, “Nothing!” Your cheeks begin to warm, staining with embarrassment.

His brows pinch, not fully believing you. Shaking his head, he turns to shake the skimmer into a large black bag. Setting it to the side, he swipes sweat off his brow. He turns and makes his way to you, pulling the work gloves off his large hands, stuffing them in the back pocket of his dark jeans. Coming to a stop at the edge of the blanket, he crouches down reaching his hand out for a drink.

Leaning back, you pull a cool bottle out of the cooler and hand it to him. You watch as he takes a large swig, before swiftly emptying the rest over his head. Brushing his hair back, his dark eyes rest on you. One corner of his plush lips pulls up at the unhidden admiration on your face.

“Come here.” He crooks a finger, signalling you closer.

You blink, lifting up and shuffling on your knees over to him. His hand locks behind your neck pulling you in to steal a kiss, lips brushing yours affectionately. One of your hands finds purchase on a burly shoulder to steady yourself. He pulls back, placing a succession of quick pecks over your pouting lips, pulling giggles out of you.

“I’m sorry. I suddenly realized I hadn't kissed the most beautiful woman today. It had to be quickly amended.”

A large grin breaks over your face at his cheesy words.

“You’re such a charmer, Mr. Kim.”

His eyes flash, tongue swiping over his thick lower lip. “Am I? Does that mean I can charm you out of these?” he teases, fingers tugging at your shorts.

You swallow hard, painfully aware of the warm thrum between your thighs. Biting your lip, a protest on the tip of your tongue threatens to expose the unabashed yearning of your heat.

Before you can utter a word, his lips are yours again. The hand behind your neck pulls you closer as he leans over you. A hand on your waist guides you to lie on the blanketed ground, his knee nudging your legs apart to settle between them comfortably. He kisses you languishly, hand releasing your soft strands and sliding to your cheek as he rests his weight on the arm placed by your head. Hips grinding in lazy circles against your mound, drawing a quiet moan.

Suffice to say all thoughts of the heat are replaced by a different kind of heat as your hands slide up the plane of muscles you had been admiring not long ago. You feel every flex of his back as his hips continue their languorous movements. You bend your knees, widening the space for him invitingly.

It’s as his hand descends to take hold of your left breast that you hear something in the distance. You ignore it thinking maybe it was a rustling branch or bush. Giving your breast a squeeze, Jin spreads even more heat to your core, and just as you’re about to groan your breath hitches as the sounds are closer this time.

“Jin! Sis! Are you guys here?”

Your eyes bug open, staring into Jin's equally stunned gaze before you both spring apart. A tangle of limbs, wrestling to separate from each other. It’s when you’re finally sitting in your own personal spaces that you notice a hitch in your situation. Jin’s erection was pitching a lovely tent in his semi loose jeans. His hands covered it, a pained look on his face as he cursed. Hearing the crunch of leaves close by springs you into action just as your siblings walk out of the tree line.

“Oh there you guys are,” the oldest declares, pointing you out to the others.

You smile over at them innocently from your position between Jin's legs, back resting against his naked chest, his arms resting around your waist. You both wave at them, thanking powers at be for the humidity today helping to disguise your flushed skin.

“Oh, hey! We didn’t know you guys were coming by today.” Jin greets nonchalantly, raising an arm to wave at them.

“Well,” the youngest speaks up this time, hand rubbing the back of their neck, ”we weren’t going to but when we realized what the weather was like out, we couldn’t let you guys deal with it all alone.”

You can’t help but smile at them in appreciation. “Thank you guys, you really didn’t have to.”

“This is our waterhole, we have to help too,” your middle sibling declares, pounding a fist into their chest dramatically.

You roll your eyes as they grin at you.

“Well let’s get to it, fam!” cheers the youngest.

“We’ll join you in a moment, just taking a short break,” you inform them.

“No worries, take your time. This heat is no joke.” They wave you off as they set up their equipment and bags.

You realise a sigh, reiterating your thanks as they go about cleaning. You watch them a moment before twisting your head to the side. “You wanna get a hold on yourself now?” you hiss over your shoulder. Jin’s prominent erection poking at your back, showing no signs of deflating any time soon.

He wraps his arms around you pulling closer. “I can’t help it, not when that perfect ass keeps pushing back on me.” he whispers into your ear. “And did you know your shoulders turn me on too? They’re so perfect for grabbing onto when I fuck into you from be-”

A yelp of pain gets your sibling’s attention, heads swiveling to look over you guys. Jin folded over, hand clutching at his right side where you’d elbowed him.

“He’s got a stitch in his side from cleaning out the lake. Sorry to scare you guys,” you give as an explanation, waving off their concerned gazes. Feeling bad, your oldest sibling decides to take over lake duty, telling you guys to take your time resting.

You nod gratefully, before turning your attention back to the frustratingly handsome man behind you. “Get a hold of yourself! Or you won’t be touching me for the next week!”

He looks at you in indignation, sputtering to find a response. “You can’t do that! We leave in a few days! We can finally go back to loud unfiltered sex!”

You twist around and smack a hand over his mouth. “I’m not kidding! Get it together, my siblings are here,” your eyes blazing with intent.

He removes your hand as he clears his throat. A playful glint in his eyes before he opens his obnoxious mouth. “You know you’re hot when you’re angry?” he manages before breaking out into his signature high pitched laugh.

Face flushing in annoyance, you smack his bare arm. “Fine! Good luck hiding it on your own!” you fume, leaning forward to push yourself up.

You don’t get far, as he cages you quickly with his arms, pulling you back against him, a panicked no permeating the humid air. You huff, as you feel the wind almost knock out of you at the force he uses to pull you back into place.

“Well are you gonna behave?” an unsaid ultimatum weaved into the question.

“Ah! It’s not my fault you’re so attractive! How can you blame me like this!” he continues to whine, like a petulant child not allowed to play with their favorite toy.

The pair of you continue to bicker, as your siblings slave away in restoring the clearing. It’s not long before they grow hot, exhausted by the muggy air engulfing them. Their patience and kindness waning, complaints for you both to hurry and join them—which you promptly do, with bottles of water in hand to help them cool down. Your small group makes quick work of the left over trash, as Jin takes care of what’s left in the lake.

The sun was just beginning it’s descent, stars just barely dotting across the darkening sky, when your small rag tag group finally finished; spent bodies leaning on each other, as weary eyes surveyed your hard work. It wasn’t what it once was, but it looked damn well on its way there and you couldn’t help the happy tears that brimmed your waterline. The arm around your shoulder gives you a quick squeeze, Jin's voice filling the air thanking everyone for their hard work.

The evening chill that cools your sweat soaked layers has the small group shivering. Giving the place one last sweep, you all agree to high tail it back for much needed showers and rest.

Tomorrow would be your last full day there and you wanted to make sure of one last thing. You would be trying to find a way to purify the lake water. You had been doing research and had read about techniques aiming to bring a lake back to or closer to man-made undisturbed conditions. You had found a lake restoration company not far outside of the town. Jin had already agreed to accompany you, willing to help in any way possible as you brought it up before going to bed that night. You had happily accepted, beholden by the revival of the Fae Kingdom.

The night was comfortably warm, filled with happy chatter in the beautiful glade. Fairy lights lit the area in a soft glow as many visitors sat around the lake, eating meals they had just pulled off grills or brought with them from home. Small clusters of families or couples relaxed after a day of fun and thrills.

Somewhere someone had brought a speaker, a soft pop melody permeating the air, as you quietly sing along to it, swaying in your fiance’s arms, his own angelic voice serenading you. Your family surrounded you, their loud boisterous laughs bringing you joy and comfort.

It had been a year since your visit, a year of the lake restoration working its magic. A year of love and care for the watering hole, which was almost a mirror of its former glory. Beautiful shades of green once more filling in patches of the ground, all the colors of the rainbow blooming, giving the space vibrance and life. There were signs of life all around you as creatures began to inhabit the area once more.

But the most amazing part is being able to witness the breathtaking globes of light that dance before your eyes. Soft, blinking lights that waltz around, unbothered by the visitors. The fairies had returned, they had come back home to their kingdom.

“They’re happy.”

“Huh,” you ask dumbly, breaking out of your reverie.

“The fairies, they’re happy to see you,” he voices.

A tender smile rests on his lips when you turn to him. He remembered. The childish story you had told him. And it’s in that moment, with blinking lights reflecting around him that you come to a realization.

“You’re the fairy prince. Well, you’re my real fairy prince,” you admit quietly.

He looks down at you, eyes searching yours before placing a kiss on the tip of your nose and pulling your back flush against him.

“I guess that makes you the future princess of the Fae Kingdom.”

You cling to his arms happily, taking in the gorgeous scenery before you.

“Besides, it only makes sense that someone as good looking as me is royalty.”

“And there goes the moment,” you grumble as you leave the safe space of his arms to join your family in their merriment.

“Hey! You know it’s true!” he exclaims, chasing after you, accompanied by a squeaking laugh.

#btscreatorscorner #bangtansorciere #purplearmynet #bts x reader #kim seokjin x reader #seokjin x reader #jin x reader #bts jin x reader #ksj #kim seokjin #bccsg

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seeds-and-sins · 3 years

Text

The Other Side - Part Three

Pairing: Jacob Seed x Reader, Eli Palmer x Reader

Rating: M (Language, Violence, Sexual Situations, Non-Consensual Interactions, Mentions of Torture)

Description: You are the head of one of Eli's teams, and his sweetheart, then Jacob captures you

Tagged: @letsloveimagines, @its-boomer-bitch, @faithseeds-blog, @zizzlekwum

- Part One

- Part Two

- Final Part

Note to Readers: My apologies for having made all of you wait so long. I know, I am a horrible person. Its been a wild run, but I am back. I hope that this part makes up for it, I am thinking the finale will be the next part that I post, so be on the look out.

In the tense moments, when bad news was sent Jacob's way, there was occasionally a dead stillness that draped itself over the atmosphere. It was suffocating in its own, but largely ignored by everyone except for you whenever it settled. For you, it was always glaringly obvious, so much so, that you would get uncomfortable and shift in your usual spot at the corner of the table. Jacob would remain quiet and stoic and steady, he wouldn't even send so much as glance in your direction. You had quickly gotten used to the fact that this was simply how he dealt with his own discomfort. How he handled stress was unlike anyone you had seen before, he shoved it down so far deep that it was probably indecipherable even to the God that his family worshipped. It was because he was strong. And it was because you were weak. Where his wounds were draped in sheets of metal and armor, yours were open for all to see and they never healed over.

"You're not seriously considering it?" You broke the silence, nibbling nervously on your bottom lip as you considered him. Jacob was all solid and firm intensity, the man never gave way to the slightest hint of abandon. He was impenetrable, and every chance you had at breaking down his walls was futile. They were chances he let you see to reel you in, only to draw them away again like the carrot hanging off a stick.

"I have to keep my options open." His gruff voice sounded, and his eyes narrowed on the map in front of him. You had wondered for the longest time if he needed reading glasses, and simply never wore them in the presence of others because it was a weakness he could not risk. He often hid such ailments from you, like the aches in his back, and the tiredness in his eyes, or the...

Longest time?

Funny how you thought that, you didn't know how long you had been here. You couldn't remember hardly anything before Jacob, but that didn't frighten you as much as it should have. You loved Jacob. He was a good-no, great man. He protected you and cared for your weak and frail self. He taught you to be strong, to go face your older inhibitions with war and the traumas you had faced on the battlefield. He allowed you to open up, to become a better version of your former self. But you couldn't remember how you met, you couldn't remember how you got here, and if you asked, he would punish you for it. He would call it weakness, being so forgetful. Silly you.

"If Eli does want to meet, why not give him the benefit of the doubt? Maybe he'll finally concede." He snorted and you couldn't hide the satisfaction that bloomed across lips.

"You know better, Eli is a pathetic leader. He wouldn't dare know what's good for him." Jacob hummed in response, groaning under his breath as he adjusted himself to lean back in his chair, and then his eyes were focused on you. Jacob could cripple you instantly with just those bright and vibrant blue eyes of his. Your lip quirked up softly at him as you admired his features in the gleaming light that drew in through the open balcony doors.

"Come to me, sweet." He beckoned and your body reacted like clockwork; the twitch of his fingers pulling your legs, as if they were attached by strings, forcing you around the table and comfortably into his lap. You straddled his broad waist, there was hardly any room for your legs in the wooden chair and it creaked under your combined weight. You practically purred when his rough appendages traced over your cheek and down the expanse of your throat, where large bruises marred your exposed flesh. There was a very fragile message in the way his fingers engulfed your throat, tugging you softly so that your lips barely touched his own. "What would you be without me?"

"Nothing." You gasped, it was always so overwhelming to be in his proximity. Even in the dead of night, when he would come visit you in your cell and gift you with blissful pleasure. He was your everything. His scent, his taste, his touch, his rugged features, he was all that you were. You were clueless on what you would do without him.

"That's correct, just like the way I found you." He gently kissed the corner of your lips, "Do you remember that day?"

"Yes." His nails dug into your hip, causing you to yelp.

"Don't lie." You lowered your head down, teeth clenched as a single tear trailed down the slope of your cheek.

"No. I don't remember anything."

"Would you like me to remind you?" You caught the courage to meet his intense gaze, your hand rising to cup his cheek and caress over the hot red scars of his past.

"Yes. Please." You weren't only craving for those memories, a glimpse into anything that you once were, anything. You were craving Jacob, you always craved for him, and you couldn't get enough of him. He cupped your skull and pushed your head under his chin, other arm wrapping around you.

"You were so beautiful. I couldn't take my eyes off of ya'." You clutched onto the bunched up fabric of his army jacket, tilting your chin up to tenderly kiss his chin and his hand dropped down to your shoulder. "You were definitely a soldier, a natural leader, but I knew you were weak without me. You were with someone else at the time, someone even weaker. I had to come save you."

"Who was I with?" Your eyebrows furrowed, Jacob sighed, caressing circles into the skin on your shoulder.

"It doesn't matter who, what matters is that you should be grateful for what I did for you." His voice carried that threatening edge, that he might snap and give you bruises quite different from the love bites that were scattered around the curve of your neck.

"I'm so grateful, Jacob." You closed your eyes and breathed in his musky scent. "I love you so much." He was quiet. He always was when you told him that you loved him. You could never hide the emptiness you felt instead at his lack of response, but there was something of a familiar dread in those words also. There was also that blanket of stillness, that darkness that consumed you, that made you feel like you were ungrateful of Jacob, like you weren't doing good enough to show him otherwise. Like he didn’t think you were good enough to love you back.

"Show me." His fingers sunk through your hair and he prompted you downward, sliding you off his lap and onto the floor below. You barely hit your head on the edge of the table as his movements became more forceful. His eyes didn't leave you as you unzipped his pants, his thick cock popping out and revealing itself unceremoniously due to his lack of undergarments.

Jacob wasn't an impatient man, but he was very demanding in his sex life. He expected you to give your everything to him before he gave you the slightest bit of what you wanted, and you always were wanting. Sometimes he would leave you drenched in sweat, on the edge of a climax that never came, with his cum dripping from you. Other times he would be generous enough to let you get yourself off, under his supervision, or under his own tongue. He took you from behind, strong and rough, did what was needed to get to his end, and then left you. That was just the way Jacob was, he was much stronger than you. Your own desires were weak and even when he gave you enough, you always wanted more. That was your own weakness. You could never be angry with him for that.

Rarely, on the loneliest nights, he would find you in the darkness. He would be tender and gentle with you. He would look you in the eyes. He would thrust just so, seek your pleasure, watch you writhe and moan his name. He would hold you afterwards, and you would fall asleep in his arms, and the next day he would be gone. You would wait for him to come open the door to your cell. It wasn't safe for you to be walking around without him anyways. Jacob could be cold and callous and distant, at times, but it was those rare moments you valued the most from him. They kept you starved for him, for his love.

For now, his cock would sit on your tongue, the taste salty and sweaty, but it was welcome because it was solely Jacob. You would suck him fast like how he liked it, muttering broken praises under his breath as he pulled your hair. He was a verbal lover, but he still remained composed all the same. The praises were for you, applauding you, telling you how pleased you made him. The grunts and groans were animalistic because Jacob was strong and sex was natural and human. He wouldn't warn you as his cum would come shooting down your throat, and you'd briefly choke on all of him, coughing for some reprieve. It was your fault for not being more prepared for him, it was your fault for being weak.

He gestured you to come back onto his lap, and you gladly accepted. His arm wrapped around you and you felt safe. Jacob loved you, you loved him, there was nothing more perfect than this. His nose nuzzled into your scalp and he held you tighter.

"Tomorrow morning we meet with Eli." You didn't know why that name felt like something sinister to you. Every time it was mentioned it was as if Eli was not just a stranger or the enemy, but like someone you could recognize. The name sickened you to the core and the man made you rage. There was no one who could dare threaten your Jacob Seed, your love, your soul. This Eli man, he would soon fail. He was weak.

"I will kill him if he tries to hurt you." You pressed your cheek to Jacob's chest, where he reverberated a deep laughter that bubbled up from his gut and physically made him shake. You had never seen Jacob laugh so fully before, but the grin on his lips spoke volumes. You were confused. It was the kind of amusement that one would have when they were pleased with themselves, feeling somewhat high and mighty. You were certain that if Joseph was present, he would reprimand his older brother for showing so much pride in whatever it was that Jacob was being prideful about. Because that was the only word you could use to describe that joy: proud.

"I'm counting on it." He finally said, remnants of chuckles falling short on his tone with the words and he pinched your chin. "I think,” He caught the very edge of his thumb on your lip. “You will stay with me tonight." Your expression exploded with excitement as you bounced on his lap and leaned away from him to get a better look at his warm smile. Jacob never let you sleep in his room with him, granted the cot was quite small for the both of you, but it was much more comfortable than the metal slab in your cell.

"Really?! Do you mean it?" His eyebrow lifted, that smile fading from his lips so swiftly.

"Do you want me to change my mind?"

"No, No! Never, Sir!"

---------------------------

Eli had chosen the meeting spot, halfway between the new den and the Veteran's Center. Jacob suspected there might be a trap, so he sent his chosen out beforehand to scope the perimeter of the sight. It was on a bridge that overlooked a startlingly beautiful waterfall. It was early morning and a fog had engulfed the thick, humid air. You had been trying to keep yourself composed since the lot of you had left the Veteran's Center, since Jacob had gotten the convey ready to leave and had debriefed his men on what to expect.

You remained silent, but not because you were told to be, it was because you were afraid. You didn't want Jacob to know that you had never felt more nervous or anxious for anything in your whole life, and you couldn't understand why. Why did Eli, the weak savage that he was, make you feel this way?

They arrived at the bridge and Eli had already arranged his own men at the other end. Jacob was not concerned, his chosen had surveyed the area hours before their arrival and they were now patiently waiting for his signal should he give it. He knew that Eli was failing, that he had the upper hand and that any day now the Whitetail militia would be a distant memory of this war. But, he wasn't stupid to believe that Eli would give up so easily. Jacob enjoyed the games anyways and he knew he was going to especially enjoy this.

Although, he would never admit it aloud, possibly he would never even admit it to himself, in his own thoughts. It still stung. It was painful. It was suffering. But it was necessary. He thought this as he watched you squirm in your seat, as he watched you silently panic over this meeting and have no idea as to why. Jacob knew why. He also knew what needed to be done. And it hurt.

It hurt when you smiled at him, devoid of any hate, devoid of any fear that he might receive from the prying eyes of others. It hurt when you kissed his cheek and asked if he needed anything. It hurt when you said you loved him, when all he ever did was hurt you. He didn't think twice about hurting you either. He frankly didn't care about what happened to you. You were weak and feeble. Instead, it was the fact that you cared about what happened to him. The only people that ever truly loved him were his brothers, but they were his blood and they had to love him for what he was. And then the day that you said you loved him, without him having to plant that in your mind himself, without him having to force you to say it, he was taken with pain. It hurt when he realized that no one would ever really love him unless they had to.

You loved him to survive. Hours and hours of torture and he turned you into a shell for his basic needs and his master plan. You forgot what you were, what he was to you, and who you really did love at one time. He could pretend as much as he liked. You weren't in love with him, he wasn't in love with you, but maybe, just maybe, there was something to acknowledge there. He wanted it. He wanted the idea of it. He didn't think much of it before, but having you around, fucking you, talking with you, holding you, it made him feel like he could be someone else.

Those kinds of thoughts were dangerous to have, especially on this side of things. He could never cross over, he could never have children, get married, have a life. The war still haunted him. The horrible things he had done were nothing more than the way things were and he felt no remorse for what he did. The world would end, the collapse would come. No matter how crazy Joseph might be, Jacob knew he wasn't wrong. If it didn't happen tomorrow, or next week, or next month, it would happen years from now in the future, a future he wouldn't be alive for. Even so, he wished to be on the other side, where he could be loved, where he could have kids, where he could get married. He wished he could have you at his side, because you were the one that made him desire those things. He didn't care about you, but that didn't mean he wasn't capable of it.

But that was all that was, out of reach, distant, impossible, weak. He did what needed to be done. He was supposed to be the strong brother, the one that culled the herd and bred soldiers. He was not a husband, not a lover, not a father. He was a monster. He knew it as well as anyone around him did, and he did not hide who he was.

His men exited the vehicle and as you went to do the same, Jacob grabbed your hand. He squeezed his larger fingers through yours, your heart throbbed. All it took was one second of silence, when the doors were shut behind his men and an eerie break encompassed the space between you. He looked into your eyes then, he really looked, deeper than he ever had before. Was it true? Did you love him? Was it something other than just some fucked up result of his mind games? Did someone finally love him just for him?

Who was he kidding? No. It wasn’t any of those things. He could almost laugh at himself for having forgotten that he personally wanted you to end up like this. He wanted you to want him, to love him, to depend on him. So that when this day finally came, it would break Eli into a million pieces.

He was going to enjoy this. The hard work he put into creating you. His loving gestures to keep you reined in, the cold ones to keep you wanting, they would have meant nothing to him if it hadn’t been for this very moment.

"You stay here, I will call for you."

"J-Jacob-I-" He could hear the fear in your voice, a normal reaction in that you instinctively knew what was going to happen. It was a shadow of your former self, shining through, afraid of what was to pass, afraid of what would happen to Eli.

"Shhh." He eased out, he brushed his thumb over your cheek. "I love you." All the color drained from your face and you drew a blank. He exited the vehicle and you were frozen to your seat, glued by the words that he had spoken to you. You felt nauseous. You felt lost, like you were in a trance, like you didn't know what you were doing there. What was going on? Why were you in a car?

Jacob paraded up to the front of his men, standing at the other side of the bridge was Eli. The quiet was broken by the harsh rapids of the waterfall falling off the edge of the earth's cliff, in the distance.

"We finally meet face to face." Eli spoke, Jacob crossed his arms. He didn't so much like being the second to speak, but with what was about to happen, he could live with it.

"For your surrender." Eli snorted, spitting out the dip that was in his mouth and shaking his head.

"Don't tell me you are that stupid, Jacob."

"Tread lightly, Eli. You might have called this meeting, but I'm the one in control." Eli ignored Jacob's threats, he rose his hands up in defense. Eli was taking something of a more diplomatic approach here, much unlike either of the brute men to go that route.

"Jacob, I'm not upset anymore, I can't be..." Eli raised his voice over the falls, eyes pleading to Jacob in the distance. Eli didn’t want to beg, much less to Jacob Seed, the man that had killed the woman of his life, the man that was threatening his home. "We both know how this ends, and things are getting nasty. Innocent people are getting caught in the crossfire."

"If they are in the crossfire, then they aren't innocent." Jacob plainly stated, cocking his head to the side, bored already with the way this conversation had been going.

"Children, Jacob! That takes it too far!" Eli shouted impatiently, his voice dropping from the even temper he had been trying to portray before. He was tired, downright exhausted, the kind that sat behind your eyes. He hadn't slept in weeks. He was dead inside. Lost. He couldn't do it anymore. He was losing every inch of himself and he couldn't do it. Since you had died all those months ago, Eli had been scrambling to keep himself afloat. Jacob had slowly chipped away at him, bit by bit, piece by piece, and Jacob was winning.

"The weakness needs to be weeded out, Eli, what can I say?"

"Just let them go!" Eli's voice cracked, even one of his men had to look away at the audacity of it all. Children! Jacob had them trapped away somewhere, the sick bastard, and he didn't look uneasy about it by any means.

"And what will you give me in return, Eli?" Eli didn't know how to respond, he felt hopeless. Surrendering was too much of a risk, but if he didn't surrender then innocent children would die. "Surrender, Eli. Profess your loyalty to Joseph, or kneel to lose your head. Don't be a coward." And Jacob was so damn smug and confident with every word, Eli had to wonder what made him think he had the upper hand. Eli thought he had taken out Jacob's outposts, that he had the cult's supplies on lockdown, that he had the chips to bargain with for those poor children.

"Jacob, enough with the games-" Jacob was growing more and more agitated by the second.

"You want games, Eli?! Bring her out!" Screams echoed down the face of the mountain, the slamming of a car door followed and Eli dropped to his knees when he caught sight of you.

"You fucker!" One of the militia hollered out and as he sprinted across the bridge to you. He was no sooner shot down by a chosen sniper in one of the alcoves above.

"ELI! ELI!" Your voice was hoarse with a scratch in your throat, as if you hadn't spoken above an octave in forever. The two men dragged you to Jacob, who was all the more pleased to see you. He snapped his fingers and, like a dog, your struggling halted like he had flipped some sort of switch. He hovered down over you and from the corner of his eye, he could see that Eli was pacing now like a tiger crazed.

"(Y/N)!" He shrilled, halfway between a cry and a shout. Jacob dove down real close to your ear, breath fanning out over your cheek.

"Just like we talked about, little one." He snapped his fingers for a second time, you blinked into terror again. He stood straight, nodding to his men for the confirmation they needed. They released you and you ran far from them to Eli, like a moth, aimlessly into the flame.

He captured you in his arms and you couldn't recall much more than his warmth, than how amazing he felt, than how perfect he still was. He cried, he cried into the crook of your neck and you held each other, as everyone else seemed to float away from your existence. You completely forgot where you were, all that mattered was him. You didn't even know how long Jacob had kept you locked up, how long Jacob had managed to breathe the lie that you were dead. It frightened you, more than Jacob himself, it frightened you that Eli had been alone all that time. Eli cupped your cheeks, gripping to you like you were stuck together with glue. His eyes traced your features, reaffirming that this was no dream for him and that your soft warmth was in his arms. There were no words to describe the waves of emotions that he was feeling, that you were alive and breathing.

But you were not yourself, and neither was he.

He growled angrily, almost ravenously, and spun you in his grasp. He was putting you furthest away from Jacob, despite the somewhat large distance between the two factions on the bridge already. He pointed an accusing finger back over toward Jacob and all he felt was rage. He stepped forward, halted only by your hard grasping on his arm as he went to draw away.

"I'll fucking kill you! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! I'll make you-" His shrieking cut short by Jacob’s steady and resounding voice.

"You think that's all I have under my sleeve, Palmer?" Jacob taunted, arms still crossed as he examined the both of you together from afar. "I expect your decision by tonight. I'll be waiting." He turned on his heel, exiting the scene, but Eli was too enraged to let him go. He tore from your grip and went barreling across the bridge, unleashing a battle cry that sung through the cliffs. He fell backwards in surprise as a sniper's bullet penetrated the empty space in front of him, warning him not to go any further.

Jacob was too smart to kill Eli like that, but it was a warning none the less. He wanted to make an example out of Eli, not make him a martyr.

Before Jacob disappeared into the car, his eyes met yours, steely and cold. You felt sick at how comfortable they felt. You felt sick at how you admired them.

He was in your head. Something was wrong, something was very wrong.

Jacob wouldn't have let you out of his sight, unless he needed to. And you knew better than anyone that Jacob always did what needed to be done.

Return to Prompts

#farcry 5 #reader #faith seed #jacob seed #john seed #joseph seed #eli palmer #eli palmer x reader #farcry #whitetail militia #only you #jacob seed x reader #stockholm #abuse

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searchingwardrobes · 3 years

Text

Not the Type - 6/8

Finally! A new update :) Sorry for the delay, but the muse has been fickle as of late. In this chapter, Emma has her first competition of the season, and it's psyching her out. Will Killian be her encouragement, or will she push him away in the midst of it all? This chapter includes another iconic scene from the movie, when Torrance dances around her room to Cliff's song. I wanted to use the actual lyrics to the song, but in looking at it, there were a few lines that bothered me. One literally says "I'd bring you flowers every day just to roll you in the hay." And then there's a constant refrain that says "I'll make you mine." Those lines just don't seem to jive for me with Killian's character when in canon he specifically tells David that he doesn't see Emma as loot and tells Emma that he will win her heart, but not through any trickery. We know he isn't the kind of guy to give a woman flowers in order to manipulate her into sleeping with him. We also know how much agency means to him, so I didn't think telling Emma in song "I'll make you mine" fit either. Anyways, that's a long way of explaining that the lyrics are 99% like the ones in the movie, minus those two parts.

Massive thanks to my beta, @hookedonapirate who takes my confusing sentences and makes them sound purty ;) You’re the best! And thanks also to the @captainswanmoviemarathon for putting together this event and being massively supportive and patient.

Summary: Emma Swan first notices him in the stands at the Friday night football game. She can tell right away Killian Jones is not the football type. Then again, she’s not the cheerleader type either, but here she is with pom poms. Life hasn’t ever gone the way Emma planned. Lately, that’s actually been a good thing. Maybe Killian Jones is a good thing, too.

My loose Captain Swan AU of the movie Bring it On

Rated: T

Also on Ao3

Tagging: @kmomof4 @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @xhookswenchx @teamhook @let-it-raines @winterbythesea @spartanguard @shireness-says @superchocovian @thesschesthair @resident-of-storybrooke @vvbooklady1256 @hookedonapirate @ultraluckycatnd @hollyethecurious @welllpthisishappening @wellhellotragic @bethacaciakay @optomisticgirl @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @ekr032-blog-blog @itsfabianadocarmo @profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @winterbaby89 @tiganasummertree @xsajx @jennjenn615 @zaharadessert @stahlop @scientificapricot @thislassishooked @kday426 @ultraluckycatnd @carpedzem @ohmakemeahercules @branlovestowrite @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @snidgetsafan @lassluna

The room was thick with hair spray, and Emma and the rest of the Storybrooke Knights Cheerleaders were sucking on orange slices. Except for Ruby who was touching up her blood red lipstick in front of one of the mirrors propped up on the classroom’s smart board.

“I think they’re red enough already, Ruby,” Coach Ava remarked as she sprayed more Aquanet all over her daughter’s hair. MM was having to wear a hair extension so she didn’t look out of place with their “hair” theme, and Coach was paranoid it was going to go flying across the gym floor during their routine. Emma wasn’t sure hairspray worked that way, but she wasn’t about to say so.

Ruby smacked her lips together with a loud pop. “The redder the better, I say. I want them to see my smile.”

She turned to the rest of the group and flashed a toothy grin. They all laughed, and Belle grimaced.

“More like a predator about to devour her prey.”

Ruby winked at Belle and growled, resulting in more laughter. Coach Ava rolled her eyes as she capped the hairspray. “Just don’t get it all over your teeth, okay Lucas?”

“No worries, Coach, it’s that long-lasting stuff that isn’t supposed to come off.”

“So why did you need fifty coats?” Tiana quipped.

They were all still laughing when a woman wearing a t-shirt that read, East Maybrook Invitational and holding an ipad poked her head into the classroom. “Storybrooke High in the hole!”

The girls all stood, gathering up their things, tossing orange peels into the trash bins and giving their hair and make up one last glance in the mirror. They followed the woman in the official t-shirt down two hallways to East Maybrook High’s cafeteria where cheer mats had been set up in the same configuration as on the performance floor. The girls took their places as if they were really performing, and marked out the routine while Coach Ava counted out the beats. If something went wrong with the music, they would have to keep going. They only pantomimed doing the stunts, however, not wanting to risk a last minute injury.

After running through the routine, a nervous silence fell among them. Some girls stretched, others did a few jumps, or even a back handspring. Anything to handle their nervous energy. Emma bounced on the balls of her feet, heart pounding in her chest more than usual. A phone call had followed the letter: someone from the UK cheer staff would be in the stands today.

And she still hadn’t told her friends about it.

“Storybrooke High on deck!”

The girls gave each other nervous glances and clasped hands in little groups as they followed the woman out of the cafeteria doors. Emma had Ruby on her left and Mary Margaret on her right, their arms threaded together. For once, Ruby was quiet.

As they neared the gym, the girls could hear the familiar sounds of competition: loud music, an announcer's voice, shouts as the audience cheered for the cheerleaders for once. It made the adrenaline pump even harder. It usually was at this moment that Emma went into her competitive “zone” where everything around her went fuzzy and her mind became laser focused on the routine and what she had to do. Today, however, she felt like she was on sensory overload, unable to turn off all the sights, sounds, and smells around her.

Before she could even process everything, Storybrooke was being announced to the crowd. Emma ran out onto the floor with a huge smile, cheers, and fist pumps for the crowd, but it felt like she was outside of herself, watching. She took her place on the floor, standing in prep, her arms straight at her sides and her head down. Her fists were clenched, and she tried to control the nervous tremors coursing through her as she waited for their music to start.

A synth-pop remix of “Hair” from the Broadway musical started to play, and the Storybrooke Knights whipped their ponytails as they started their back handspring/back tuck peel-offs. Coach Ava always said that the music needed to appeal to every generation represented in the judge’s panel as well as the crowd, and as Emma flawlessly landed her tumbling pass to roaring applause, she saw the two boomer judges smiling and bopping to the music.

She reprimanded herself for looking at the judges as she jogged across the floor for her next tumbling pass. Nevertheless, she scanned the crowd just before she started her pass, wondering where that UK recruiter was. It was the most difficult pass in the entire routine: a back handspring into an arabian, then a double whip into a full twisting double back. She hesitated, stumbling, before getting started because of her distraction, and by the time she did her second whip, she had a sinking feeling. Sure enough, when she landed her double back, she was way out of bounds. She didn’t need the loud buzzer from the line judge to alert her to the fact. She gritted her teeth in frustration, but then remembered to fake a smile as she got into the dance formation. Her face ached from her forced smile as she swung her hips to the rhythm of “Whip My Hair.”

Emma’s next mistake came in the squad’s first pyramid. It felt like she had a weight attached to her ankle, and she couldn’t lift her leg as high as she normally did to connect to Mary Margaret’s stunt group to her left. She almost lost her balance completely, but Ruby compensated and saved it. Mary Margaret didn’t falter either, thank God. Emma was practically shaking as she went into the twist up stunt - her nemesis in this routine. Kelly Rowland singing “Crown” as Emma popped up, her hand grasping her ponytail, helped her power through, as cheesy as it sounded.

Despite the mistakes Emma was berating herself for, the crowd was going crazy for the combination of the theme, the music, and the cool tricks. By the end, the entire gymnasium was on its feet with thunderous applause. Emma ended the routine seated on the mat, back to the audience with her head flung back. Since she saw them all upside down, she couldn’t pick out her family or anyone in Kentucky blue.

Ruby yanked Emma to her feet, screaming loud enough to shatter her eardrums. Mary Margaret and Ariel sandwiched her in a hug, and then they were swept away by the rest of their ecstatic teammates.

“Amazing job, girls!” Coach Ava praised, gathering them in a big, squirming, awkward group hug. “Mary Margaret didn’t even lose her hair!’’

They all laughed giddily, except for Emma. Her mind was reeling. “I went out of bounds,” she confessed.

Coach Ava waved off her words. “It’s our first competition. It’s normal for there to be kinks to work out. Let’s not worry about that until the next practice, though. For now, let’s just celebrate a solid opening for the season.”

Her teammates seemed to all be in agreement, and so did the judges, awarding The Storybrooke Knights with a third place finish. It wasn’t their best opening - that had been last year’s first place trophy to kick off the season - but making the top three was the goal of every top squad right out of the gate. Even the UK recruiter had congratulated her on a solid routine.

“I could see the nerves a bit,” she told Emma, her smile kind and reassuring, “but the level of tumbling skill you possess is rare. Top five I’ve seen so far, no doubt about it. We’ll definitely be in touch.”

Emma, however, couldn’t shake the feeling of failure that clung to her.

“I’m blown away, Swan, that was amazing!”

Emma was in Killian’s arms before she could even register that he’d rushed out of the bleachers and onto the floor to greet her. He brushed a kiss to her cheek and deposited a bouquet of white daisies into her arms.

“It wasn’t amazing,” Emma whispered, staring down at the white flowers.

“Come now, don’t be modest.” Killian’s grin conveyed giddy pride in her which she found inexplicably annoying.

“I stepped out of bounds on my big tumbling pass, I almost took down our first pyramid, and I was shaky on every single stunt!”

Killian’s eyes narrowed. “Your team doesn’t seem put out with you.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “They’re being nice. If we hadn’t placed, it would have been a different story. It would have all been my fault.”

“Whatever happened to the whole we win as a team, we fail as a team thing?”

“My team relies on me keeping my head on straight!” Her voice had risen, and she slashed the air with the bouquet of flowers. White petals fluttered to the gym floor.

Killian cocked his head and studied her. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Nothing!”

“It’s something, Swan.”

He stepped forward, reaching for her, but she stepped out of his reach.

“I just let everyone down, but no one will be straight with me. Why can’t you all just admit I screwed up today?”

Killian shook his head. “I don’t think you’re seeing things clearly. I saw an amazingly talented athlete today, Swan. You were amazing.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. Of course you’d say that. You’re a high school guy. You’ll say anything you have to to get in a cheerleader’s panties.”

Killian’s eyes widened and his head jerked back as if she’d slapped him. “You really think so little of me?”

She tilted her chin. “I’m no fool. Did you think tonight would be the night? Show up to my little competition, compliment me, throw in some flowers, and I’d spread my legs for you?”

Killian backed away, his jaw clenching, nostrils flaring. “I’m going to assume you don’t mean any of that, Emma, so I’m walking away before either of us can say anything we might regret.”

“Fine!” she yelled as he turned and walked toward the gym doors. “Walk away! That’s what every guy does when a girl won’t put out.” She threw the flowers at his retreating form. She watched the white petals swirl through the air and the green stems hit the parquet floor with a soft swish and crinkle of cellophane wrapper.

“Emma!”

She whirled around to see Ruth standing there, frown upon her face and her brow furrowed. David stood next to her, his arms crossed in disapproval. Nearby a cluster of her teammates stared as if she’d morphed into some mythological creature with two heads. Her face burned as she realized how loudly she’d yelled at her boyfriend.

Probably ex-boyfriend now.

Humiliated, she turned and fled, fingers pressed to her flaming cheeks.

*********************************************

“Go away,” Emma muttered into her pillow.

“What if I were Mom with a plate of brownies?”

Emma grabbed a teddy bear, clutching two tiny red pom poms (a gift from Ruth after last year’s state championship win), and smacked her brother in the head with it. She glared at him through one eye, the rest of her face still smashed into the pillow.

“I knew it was you because you crashed down on my bed hard enough to catapult me out the window. Ruth’s more subtle.”

David just laughed as he rubbed at his cheek where the bear had met his face.

“Go away,” she repeated, turning her face fully into the pillow again.

“You left your phone downstairs.”

“So?”

“So, you have like fifty text messages and thirty missed calls.”

Emma rolled over, still clutching her pillow to her chest. “Well, he’s persistent, I’ll give him that.”

“It wasn’t just Killian. Your entire team is worried about you.”

“Because I choked?”

“Because you're delusional,” David shot back with equal parts humor and frustration. “You didn’t choke. You didn’t let any of us down. You didn’t give a lousy performance, or any of a thousand other ridiculous claims you’ve made in the past few hours.”

Emma turned to look at her brother. “I made mistakes, David.”

He shrugged. “Who doesn’t? It was one competition, Emma, not the Olympics. It wasn’t even the state championships or regionals. One. Competition. At some tiny high school in the middle of nowhere, Maine.”

Emma groaned as she pushed herself up to the headboard and let her head drop to David’s shoulder. He put his arm around her and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Kentucky?”

Emma sighed. When the recruiter had called, she insisted on speaking to Ruth as well. Emma should have known she would spill the beans to her son, especially after Emma acted like a complete lunatic.

Yes, a delusional lunatic. Her brother wasn’t wrong.

“I don’t know, it was just . . . a lot to process. And a lot rides on this. I mean, there aren’t any football recruiters looking at you, which means college is gonna be expensive, Mr. Quarterback. If my tuition is taken care of, Ruth can just worry about you.”

“I could get other scholarships.”

“You’re a white, middle class male. You aren't getting any other scholarships.”

He chuckled and poked her in the ribs. “Regardless of all that, Mom just wants what’s best for you. We’ll figure out college and the money and all that, but we’ll do it together. That’s what a family does. Okay?”

This family thing was still new for Emma, so she just nodded in agreement against David’s shoulder.

“But speaking of Killian,” David said, waving her phone in front of her face, “some of these calls and texts are from him. He sent you a video, too. Then called me and pretty much begged me to get you to watch it, so just give him that much, okay? So he’ll leave me alone?”

Emma rolled her eyes as she took the phone. David could protest all he wanted, but she knew about the little bromance he had with her boyfriend.

She waited until her brother went downstairs before she sat cross-legged in the center of her bed and pulled up the video from Killian. She gnawed on her bottom lip nervously before pressing “play.”

And there Killian was, on the tiny screen, smiling like they’d never had a fight. Emma’s lips pulled up into a grin of her own. He was also holding his guitar in his lap and fidgeting.

“Hi, Emma,” he said with a nervous little wave. “You’ve been ignoring all my calls and texts, so I decided to pull out the big guns. I was gonna give this to you as a gift for like Valentine’s Day or something, but . . . you know . . . desperate times call for desperate measures.”

He cleared his throat and shifted again, and Emma blinked back tears. She’d never seen him at such a loss for words.

“I wrote you a song,’ he continued, “so, I’ll just shut up and sing it already.”

Emma gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as he began to strum his electric. It started

out as a kind of slow, cheeky punk rock ballad.

Oh, Emma, I don’t get your cheerleading squad, but I love your pom-poms. I'd feed you bon-bons all night.

Then it transitioned into a full on rock song, and Killian began to shred on his guitar. He was really good, and the song had Emma bobbing her head to the music.

1,2,3,4. Yeah, you got me to feel all those butterflies inside. In your locker I would hide. The truth, it's only you I see, and you're just what I need. I'll bring you flowers all the time in hopes that you’ll be mine. Well I'm feelin' fine, I'm right on time. I hope I’ll win your heart.

When he transitioned into the chorus, Emma leapt up from her bed. She propped her phone on her nightstand and began to dance around the room to Killian’s song.

And you're just what I need. And you're just what I need. Not everything works as it seems. Is that so hard to believe? So I went down to the record store. Picked my head up off the floor. The truth, it's only you I see. And you're just what I need. And if it's my world that you fear, let me make this very clear. Well I'm feelin' fine, I'm right on time. I hope I’ll win your heart. And you're just what I need.

The chorus repeated a couple more times, and Emma danced around her room like she hadn’t in a long time. She even grabbed an old pair of pom poms she’d gotten as a joke at the squad’s white elephant Christmas party. They were those enormous pom poms cheerleaders used to wave in the long ago days of letter sweaters and megaphones. They made a fun swishing sound as she bounced around the room to Killian’s song.

A song he’d written for her! A song about her! If she wasn’t so giddy and happy, she would burst into tears.

When the song ended, Emma collapsed onto her bed, panting from her ridiculous dance party and grinning ear to ear. She rolled over and grabbed her phone. She texted rapidly, her fingers trembling.

I watched your song.

Did you like it?

I LOVED it!

Good. I meant every word.

I’m sorry.

I know.

#cs ff #captain swan movie marathon #csmm #bring it on au #lieutenant duckling #high school au

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boop-le-snoot · 3 years

Text

PARTY FAVOURS I A VENOMOUS INTERLUDE

Did y'all know symbrock is canon? Well, now you do. Reader's favourite deadbeat surrogate uncle is in town and he brought a... Friend. No warnings, just a boatload of crack and fluff, as usual. Reader being mouthy. Takes place a little bit into the future - around after chapter 32: spoiler alert is useless because we already know a tonybrucestrange/reader quartet is the endgame. 💖💝✨

"What," I had to pause for a second for my brain to catch up with my eyes. "The fuck?!"

It was truly a miracle I could say anything out loud, at all. Words weren't valid enough to describe my shock and confusion. The scene unfolding in front of me resembled and unholy cross between a B-rated horror movies about demonic possession and some deep-sea Eldritch monstrosity.

The eight-feet tall black, oozing dude in front of me? Yes, you, with the teeth. Ctulhu called, he wants his tentacles back.

The creature honest to god rippled, like some nightmare-fuel goth Jell-O, rapidly shrinking in size within seconds. As more of the black tar-like substance receded, a much more human form started to appear under it. Worn jeans, leather jacket, ungroomed beard and the look of a biker gang member coming off a serious bender.

"Uh, Princess?"

"Eddie. Fucking. Brock. Uncle Idiot." I punctuated each word with an increasing widening of my eyes. The world was fucking nuts. Two and two did not compute - Eddie might have looked threatening to some people - like white suburban Karens - even without the... Gooey squid-on-steroids thing he had going on. The man was built like a fucking brick shithouse, but I knew him way too well. Eddie couldn't be that badass to save a life.

"You two know each other?" Tony shrieked indignantly, a coarseness in his voice that indicated only one thing: my boo was well into his third drink. Hell, I didn't blame him - that gaping toothy maw was fucking gnarly.

Hands on my hips, I caught myself slipping into a mute rage, storming over to the 200lbs worth of pure dumbass and knocking him right in the face. "You! Didn't tell! ME!" A black tendril wrapped around my wrist, carefully but firmly securing it and preventing me from causing my non-related uncle any more physical damage. Although I must admit, my knuckles probably were more affected than his jaw. "You! Are! A MUTANT!!! HOW COULD YOU?! How could you NOT tell ME?"

I trusted the man with my soul and most embarrassing drinking stories. Hell, I called Eddie in a stoned haze the very same night I lost my v-card. I just thought we were bros, you know? I saw his whole fucking life implode more than once and personally flew to California to ice his injuries and his hurt ego countless times. I was done dirty in the worst way.

"I'm not-" Eddie's sigh was long-suffering. "I, uh, I have a parasite..." He sounded meek, in the same way he used to describe his drunkenly misconduct when I made our family driver bail out his ass outta jail in the morning.

"TAKE THAT BACK!" A deep gravelly voice thundered, seemingly coming out of his chest?

"Okay, okay," Eddie smiled. It was strangely soft and un-eddie-like. The only person he smiled like that was... used to be Anne. "This is Venom. They're an alien and we're, uh, a thing. It's a recent development." The tentacle unwrapped itself from me as I took an involuntary step back.

Even barring the fact that Eddie was dating an alien, this was way too fucking weird for 3 o'clock on a Sunday. I always knew the reporter was, for the lack of a better word, a little weird but he really took it to new heights. With Thor and Loki looking... Like that, I could see a human dating some sort of a hot alien. But with Ctulhu looking the way he did just minutes ago? Did Eddie seriously let all of those teeth in close proximity of his dick?

I had a "ERROR 404, common sense not found" hanging over me for the longest time. The others were quiet behind me, too, even Tony - one of my boyfriends, the most likely to cause utter chaos, was hanging back and expecting me to do something.

"Venom," I clarified, just to fill the silence with some noise while my brain processors re-synced.

"WE ARE VENOM." The tentacle that was sleek and black now had two completely white eyes and a smaller-scale version of the toothy grin that had drooled all over the common room carpet. Their voice had an interesting effect: it was so deep, the air around them vibrated slightly when they spoke.

I tilted my head examining the appendage. It was considerably less terrifying when it wasn't five times my size. "What are you?" And most importantly, are you a threat to my favourite non-related family member? I left that statement unspoken although it was obvious I was ready to fight it? Them? If need be.

"A SYMBIOTE," They replied, swaying the head-tentacle slowly. "WE LOVE EDDIE AND KEEP HIM ALIVE AND HEALTHY." So, they understood the actual question.

"Which is fucked up because Klyntar usually behave in the opposite way." Hearing Thor swear was, perhaps, even more unsettling than finding out about the symbiote-alien-boyfriend thing my uncle had going on. The thunderer himself was nursing a jug of golden liquid. The good Asgardian stuff, he must've been really fucking bamboozled.

"Okay. So anybody wanna fill me on the details before I beat up my favourite idiot?" I sighed, pointedly looking at Tony.

"I thought I was your favourite idiot!" He immediately retorted, hurt, but nonetheless opened his arms to give me a grounding embrace. We may have sucked face for a few seconds, because why the hell not, Tony was an amazing kisser and his tongue down my throat was very calming.

"Hold up, what the fuck?" Now it was Eddie's turn to act all offended. "Aren't you a little too young for him?"

"You and your most likely carnivorous goth space pudding can fuck right off if you're not going to be supportive of my very inappropriate, very polyamorous relationship with three incredibly hot boomers," I shot back, slipping into some resemblance of normalcy. Me and Eddie go way, way back and shitting on each other's bad life decisions was the founding stone of our bromance. Hell, he was the guy who showed me the wonders of sarcasm at an early age! Wonderbaum!

"There's three of them?" Eddie's voice pitched and he gaped, palming his face.

"SHE HAS A POINT, EDDIE. WE EAT PEOPLE. BEING UNSUPPORTIVE WOULD MAKE US LOOK LIKE AN ASSHOLE." Eddie's buddy stated, sounding almost fed up. So, they were sentient enough to recognize how much of a pain in the ass Eddie could be. I could work with that, disregarding the cannibalism comment, of course. What the fuck was up with that?

"Yes, Eddie, I also periodically bump uglies and trade disgustingly sweet text messages with the Hulk and a badass wizard," I rolled my eyes at the reporter's following gasp and angry muttering. "Venom, I like you."

"WE RETURN THE SENTIMENT. YOUR CHOICE IN MATES IS VERY WISE, CONSIDERING YOU ARE A WEAK MORSEL. THEY CAN PROTECT YOU."

"Shut up, Squid. I'll still kick your motherfucking ass if you hurt Eddie."

The emo space goo laughed, a terse scratching noise, showing way, way too many teeth for me to feel comfortable but I allowed myself to be placed on the couch between Tony and Eddie nonetheless. The initial shock of seeing a talking octopod with fangs passed quickly - I've seen Stephen's "trophies" he brought from his otherworldly journeys and Lovecraftian horrors were, honestly, pretty low on the gross/creepy scale.

"Both of you, explain. For the love of fuck," Tony sighed, emotionally exhausted and drained of his usual bravado.

"Eddie was my dad's friend until he moved to Cali, I've know him for fifteen years, give or take. He taught me how to ride a bike and bake the best pot brownies," I shrugged. There wasn't much to say. "I visited him whenever I could but you know, with school and then you guys, there wasn't that much time to iron out the details." I have Eddie a death glare, pointing to Venom's floaty head with my eyes.

Eddie nodded. "What she said..." And then launched an elaborate tale about some company called Life Foundation, some evil dude named Drake and his own alien pudding named Carnage, who was one ugly motherfucker judging by Eddie's and Venom's combined "ew" face, their aching need for human brains to survive and other, more trivial things, like mental breakdowns in a lobster tank and getting dumped by a fiancé and eating their way through a HYDRA base after being captured and tortured. What a wild fucking ride.

"Sounds like you had a rough year," Everybody's dumbfounded silence was ended by Tony who took a slow swig of his whiskey before speaking.

"Yeah, no shit," Eddie muttered, twisting his black coated fingers in elaborate but frankly pretty shapes. His alien wrapped around his neck like a tube scarf and additional tentacles appeared between Eddie's hands, gently prying them open and enveloping them in a sort of a hug? It was hard to compute, the black mass appeared to be totally amorphous.

"How's your anxiety?" I asked, damn well knowing Eddie's mind tended to run like Tony's: zero to sixty in point five with no clear destination. Having an alien inside of him must've really thrown Eddie for a loop.

"It's, uh, better. Venom helps," The reporter admitted, still staring at his hands but the crease between his brows had disappeared and the expression he wore was kind of fond.

"Good. You know, Venom," I thoughtfully addressed the definitely sentient creature. "Eddie is a bigger dumbass than me, which is saying something. You ought to keep a really close eye on him. If not for me, he'd probably be dead from alcohol poisoning, like, years ago."

"WE ARE AWARE. WE CAN ACCESS EDDIE'S MEMORIES." A head manifested itself on a thicker tentacle, floating over to look me in the face but maintaining a respectful distance and staying out of my personal space bubble. "AND WE ARE THANKFUL. EDDIE IS THE PERFECT HOST. WE LOVE EDDIE."

I felt the corner of my mouth tilt upwards at the alien's proclamation. It was child-like in its blunt honesty but carried a certain weight with it. It told me whoever tries to separate those two in any way would get eaten faster than they could say "SIKE!". And honestly? I would help Venom hide the evidence.

"I literally had you for thirty minutes but I would kill everybody and then myself if you two got hurt. This is too soft, I can't." I snorted, extending a curious hand towards Venom. They looked so shiny. I had to touch them.

And they let me. Venom butted their head into my palm and let me gently run my fingers over their slightly cool, slippery flesh. It felt like putting my hands on a surprisingly sturdy yet bouncy piece of flubber. I purposely avoided the small maw and the endless rows of sharp teeth but managed to accidentally brush against something rough and scratchy - as it turned out, the Symbiote had a very long, very dexterous tongue. And didn't that give me a bunch of interesting mental images.

"Oh my God, NO!" Wanda moaned from somewhere, the voice mortified and disgusted.

"Why are you touching the people-eating alien?" Bruce yelped, entering the room with several people in tow. The scientist looked worried, a little bit green around the edges. The tablet in his hands beeped periodically, signifying the ongoing sciencing bender he was in process of.

"WE WOULD NOT EAT THIS HUMAN. WE ARE FOND OF THE MORSEL." Venom defended, well, venomously. Eddie wisely choose to stay silent, trading a knowing look with Tony.

Stephen Strange sighed, briefly closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose with a jagged movement. "One day, Princess, one day you will stop collecting people that are obviously bad for your health and your future. That, or space in the tower will simply run out." With a deeper, calmer sigh, the sorcerer landed in front of me on the floor, sitting cross-legged and subtly begging for a head scratch. Which meant just placing his always neatly trimmed curls under my free hand. His jealousy was about as subtle as a foot in the face.

"I'll just ask Tony to build more floors, duh," I rolled my eyes with force at the obvious solution, giving into Steph's demands, beginning to card through his hair. It was calming both of us, really.

Bruce came over to give me a kiss and my other boyfriends didn't even grumble about the scientist placing himself in my lap, crawling over both Tony and Stephen to get comfortable.

Our dynamic was unconventional and more than a little weird, but it worked for us and the rest of the team most certainly didn't complain about the vast decrease in conflict that came with the territory. Come to think of it, all of us were more tactile than just a group of friends sharing a house and I was very much on board with that. None of us except select few (looking at you, mister doctor) were hugged enough as children and we were making up for it in spades right fucking now.

"Girl has a type," Wanda remarked, like the messy little shit she was. I stuck out my tongue in retaliation.

The Avengers' brain trust began talking about Venom's slightly inconvenient diet that directly resulted in multiple felonies for one Edward Brock, and as much as I tried to follow the flow and make my own, however feeble, contributions to the scientific side of the conversation, the new life form was much more interesting. I asked Venom several questions and they deemed them acceptable enough to answer - which evolved on both of us absolutely geeking out over the differences in our physiology. The space pudding didn't hold back one bit, insulting the inferior human biology with gleeful gusto.

"They need a chemical called phenethylamine," Bruce sighed, having deduced it through discussion since Venom and Eddie both protested aggressively against any kind of invasive testing. "I can synthesize it. No more head-chomping, no more murder."

It made perfect sense. Except it didn't. "Brucie-bear, you're a brilliant fucking scientist but a shit psychologist." I interrupted whatever came next. "Venom is a person, like me and you and, yes, even Hulk. Tell me this: if you found a way to get rid of Hulk, would you stop sciencing in the gamma radiation field?" I looked my boyfriend straight in the eyes, hoping for a spark of common sense. "Do you see my point? You science, Tony engineers, Steve draws and Clint bakes. Venom hunts. It's who they are, you can't give them a pill to make it go away."

The weight of my word landed in the room like lead, heavy. The only source of sound was the TV, playing the news quietly in the background for the longest time. Those few minutes felt like hours until Thor expectantly turned towards Eddie/Venom.

"IT IS SO. WE ARE AFRAID WE CANNOT INFLUENCE OUR INSTINCT TO HUNT PREY. KLYNTAR ARE APEX PREDATORS." The little black goop sounded almost apologetic. It was hard to hear undertones with their voice being so deep and grating. "BUT WE CAN TRY." Okay, I could totally hear the hope. Finding out the Eldritch horror could make puppy eyes was... Terrifying, to be honest, because they fucking worked.

"Got any better ideas?" Tony asked me sarcastically.

"I do, actually." I leveled a look with Natasha. She understood. "HYDRA goons. The aliens that, for some reason, keep invading New York every month or so. Stephen's adventures in Hell. Do I need to continue?"

"Wait, hold on," Steve raised his palms. "We don't kill HYDRA, we deposit them in SHIELD custody."

I snorted at the naïve Captain. "And what do you think happens to them there? Did you honestly think they just let torturing, murdering, world-domination planning psychos back on the streets?"

Steve frowned in confusion. "They go to prison?"

Natasha choose that moment to step up. "It's not uncommon for them to possess certain enhancements to be deemed too dangerous to be released back into society. Some of them are low-tier mutants and inhumans. Trust me, Steve, the lethal injection is a much more humane treatment than solitary life imprisonment in a ultra-high security prison." Romanoff stated with a trace of compassion. "And some mutants, we can't contain for prolonged periods of time." She added quietly, looking away.

Rogers was staring blankly into the wall, mulling over the information in his head. His intensive thought process was plainly visible on his face. I heard about some kind of fiasco with HYDRA agents suicide-bombing a city in Europe few years ago and Steve was there, along with Wanda and Sam.

"Venom is a whole person, and even if they look like they could be the main character in Call of Ctulhu video game, we can't just disregard them like they are some kind of badly behaving pet. They're my honorary uncle's boyf-sorry-significant other, for fuck's sake," I threw my hands up in the air in exasperation. "Y'all should know I don't fuck with people who give shit to one of my own. Don't disappoint me like that." I finished, feeling more tired than I had in months. I didn't regret giving into the found family dynamic, however I didn't exactly sign up for hard choices like them vs my long lost uncle, y'know?

Great, now I had a headache and three very concerned boyfriends glaring at me for unknown reasons. The urge to pace always manifested strongly within me as the emotional atmosphere rose in the room. With Bruce dangling off my lap, I couldn't do even that and I felt the restlessness blossom into irritation more and more with each passing second of my existence.

Eddie remained silent, looking down. Venom had mostly receded into the reporter's body, save for a few tentacles tightly wrapped around Eddie's palm.

"Alright," Steve suddenly said. "We can work with that."

"Princess, you look like you're either going to cry or yell any second," Bruce said softly, squeezing my shoulder and pulling me closer.

I immediately hid my face in his chest, taking several deep, shaky breaths. "Eddie is family. Y'all are family. It's terrifying to have to choose between the two." I said, after a brief moment of hesitation.

The reporter made some sort of a choked gasp, quickly masking it with a cough - I knew him way too well to miss the way he was fighting back tears of his own. Bruce understood, he really did understand me - hopped off my lap and let me hug Eddie properly, my happy-sad tears soaking through the collar of his tee.

"You're, uh, welcome to stay. I'll have a guest room prepared." Tony cleared his throat, passing his half-finished glass to Stephen who swallowed the liquid in one gulp. My boyfriends were so fucking emotionally illiterate. Disaster humans.

Huh, I really did have a type.

Later that night, I made the mistake of barging into Eddie's room with a bottle of really fancy whiskey I liberated from Tony's overstocked liquor cabinet. Visiting my uncle and boozing and smoking on the balcony, for old times sake, was my plan and...

I failed the mission successfully.

I didn't bother knocking. As soon as I saw a pair of bare feet, my eyes traveled further up on the couch on their own volition. There were so many tentacles, a writhing, oozing silky black mass and Eddie was making sounds, unmistakable noises-

"UNSEE. UNSEE. OH MY GOD, UNSEE, UNSEE." I stumbled back into the common room shivering.

"What happened, is everything okay?" Bucky stood up as soon as he saw me enter the doorway with my face scrunched in a grimace of regret. I felt like I've gone through the five stages of grief in the shortest time possible for a human being.

Somwhere, I heard Wanda's sudden moan full of pain and misery. "Please, stop THINKING about it!"

"Brain bleach, oh my God," I cringed. "Where's the Clorox?! I have decided I don't need my eyeballs-"

"Oooh," Tony's proverbial lightbulb lit up. The engineer sounded like he was about five seconds away from building a space ship and permanently moving to another planet. "They're together-together..." Tony intercepted me nonetheless, doing the most effective thing to make me stop speaking and thinking bullshit. He kissed me. With lots of tongue.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95

#party favours #bun writes #tony stark x reader #bruce banner x reader #stephen strange x reader #eddie brock #venom #stephen strange x y/n #tony stark x y/n #bruce banner x y/n #tony stark x you #bruce banner x you #stephen strange x you #venom is babey fight me

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heejinnien · 3 years

Note

ara, you rainbow-infused space unicorn, would you do an angsty drabble with number 10 and jimin, please? :3

word count: 784 words

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: angst

warnings: a character has cancer, the ending is kind of sad skfjhsg

author’s note: to duda, my lovely, hardworking boomer. i have no idea how long a typical drabble is, but i feel like this is on the longer side for them. it might make you sad.

send me a drabble request

He doesn’t tell you at first.

For the first two months after the christening of your relationship, you and Jimin continue on with your lives as you had before. The spring semester begins, and with it comes a mountain of assignments. Between your and Jimin’s schedules, you often don’t find time to meet, so when Jimin brushes his fatigue off on frequent rehearsal for his upcoming showcase, you don’t dwell too much on it.

Foolishly, you believe that your curse has been lifted, and Jimin’s power really is enough to save him. He would have affected him by now, you think, when months have passed and there is no noticeable change in your boyfriend.

You’re in the middle of your astrophysics lecture when you receive the call.

Jimin is in the hospital.

Jimin is dying.

He had been diagnosed with a form of heart cancer a little over a month ago, a form that is so rare, the doctors are not quite sure if it’s curable. The disease is fast acting, they say, and has been attacking Jimin’s respiratory system. He only has so much time left.

It’s all your fault.

You knew the consequences of falling in love, and yet you foolishly allowed you to believe that you could somehow cheat the gods, and your destiny. That it would be okay.

Jimin had collapsed during the middle of his dance practice. He had quickly been rushed to the hospital where you find him now, unconscious. He looks so frail, cheeks hollow and sunken, so different from the man you knew a month ago. The sight is the first chip in your heart.

You throw your bag aside and collapse by the bedside, the impact jarring your knees as you grab onto Jimin’s hand. He is still unconscious, the steady beeping of the heart monitor your only companion. You lift Jimin’s hand, pressing it against your cheek. It’s so cold against yours, so limp and lifeless, the chip in your heart cracks.

You clasp one of your hands over your mouth, a sob forming inside you, pressing against you. A tear silently rolls down your cheek, and the world spins as the realization of everything comes crashing down.

You feel a tug from where Jimin’s hand is connected with yours, and your head snaps up. A familiar smile greets you, small and worn.

“Y/N,” Jimin rasps, attempting to push himself up. His hand slips and he falls back down, coughing. The sound is jarring, and each one cracks your heart just a little more. You wait until the coughing has subsided to speak, voice quiet.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I thought you trusted me.” Your voice cracks, and you hastily wipe at your eyes. Guilt, anger, and desperation twist inside you, each emotion raw and aching.

Even when your parents passed and you had no one left, you had been able to get through it.

You’re not sure if you’ll be able to forgive yourself if Jimin dies because of you.

The weight of what you had done feels like you’re being crushed, suffocated, and you’ll never be able to breathe again.

“Y/N, it’s not your fault.” Jimin says softly, sensing your thoughts. He reaches towards you, grabbing your free hand from where it lies beside him gently until both of them are in his grasp. His grip is tender, eyes so full of love and care that the maelstrom of guilt within you becomes vicious, tearing at you inside like pieces of broken glass. With each cut, you feel yourself breaking further and further.

“We knew what would happen, Jimin,” you sob. “This is all my fault.”

“No, it’s not. We were both taking risks,” Jimin consoles soothingly. His words only make the tears flow harder, and you yank your hands from his, ignoring the hurt that flashes in his eyes. You think of the people he will be leaving behind if he dies. His parents, his brother. His classmates. His friends.

You.

That’s when you make up your mind.

You push yourself to your feet shakily.

“What are you doing?” An edge creeps into Jimin’s voice as you reach for the bag you had thrown on the floor haphazardly. He reaches for you again, but you step backwards, out of his reach.

“I’m sorry, Jimin,” you whisper, turning. “I can’t let anyone else die because of me.”

And with that, you turn.

Each step you take further shatters your head. You hear Jimin calling your name, begging, pleading, but you refuse to turn around.

If it’s to save his life, you’ll stop loving him.

If it’s to save his life, you are willing to break into a million pieces.

He doesn’t tell you at first.

You’re in the middle of your astrophysics lecture when you receive the call.

Jimin is in the hospital.

Jimin is dying.

It’s all your fault.

You knew the consequences of falling in love, and yet you foolishly allowed you to believe that you could somehow cheat the gods, and your destiny. That it would be okay.

You feel a tug from where Jimin’s hand is connected with yours, and your head snaps up. A familiar smile greets you, small and worn.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I thought you trusted me.” Your voice cracks, and you hastily wipe at your eyes. Guilt, anger, and desperation twist inside you, each emotion raw and aching.

Even when your parents passed and you had no one left, you had been able to get through it.

You’re not sure if you’ll be able to forgive yourself if Jimin dies because of you.

The weight of what you had done feels like you’re being crushed, suffocated, and you’ll never be able to breathe again.

“We knew what would happen, Jimin,” you sob. “This is all my fault.”

You.

That’s when you make up your mind.

You push yourself to your feet shakily.

“What are you doing?” An edge creeps into Jimin’s voice as you reach for the bag you had thrown on the floor haphazardly. He reaches for you again, but you step backwards, out of his reach.

“I’m sorry, Jimin,” you whisper, turning. “I can’t let anyone else die because of me.”

And with that, you turn.

Each step you take further shatters your heart. You hear Jimin calling your name, begging, pleading, but you refuse to turn around.

If it’s to save his life, you’ll stop loving him.

If it’s to save his life, you are willing to break into a million pieces.

#drabbles #bangtanarmynet #newskynet #bangtansilverclub #btscreatorscorner #blackswannet #jimin drabble #jimin x reader #angst #pjm #bts #bts jimin

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hank-mcdankblade · 4 years

Text

I Know A Bottom When I See One Princess (Part 3)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary

Chapter 1: You and Dean have been pals for as long as you can remember, practically raised together. Are things still the same as you remembered when you reconnect with him after a couple years apart? Well there is one thing you see differently and you’re about to call him out on it.

Chapter 2: After you flirt back with Dean you start to rethink all of your life choices. Why did you flirt back instead of making fun of him? God it would be so much easier if you were just a genderless blob. Hopefully the new supernatural case a friend of your mom’s gives you will distract you from all this romance mumbo jumbo.

Chapter 3: You and Dean both start to realize your feelings are not what you both originally anticipated them to be. If only you two could actually talk like adults instead of bantering like childish 8 year olds. The case picks up when you see a certain someone’s name over every case, a certain boomer’s name.

Chapter 4: You and Dean do some sleuthing into Chrissy’s apparent death. After learning the truth your trip to Wendy’s/Jack in the Box gets interrupted by Chief douchebag. Rick takes the three of you on a nice drive to the mountains to introduce you to his daughter.

Word Count: 5,041

Warnings: Many, Many swear, Dean being a little shit, pg-13 thoughts from a certain green eyed hunter.

______________________________________________________________________

The car was quiet. You couldn’t help but wonder if maybe you were the cause of it. You reminded yourself that there were a million other reasons as to why the drive was silent. Hell there were hours spent in this car with nothing but the sound of guitars and dig of the tire against the road as background noise. All you needed was each other’s company and nothing more. The rational part of your mind was scolding you to shut the hell up about it and stop worrying, pointing out multiple pieces of evidence disproving your original theory. Meanwhile your much less rational side disagreed. She was a bit of a dumb bitch, but very persuasive. It was practically her superpower to ignore all the facts and blindly believe in her opinions.

“Hey, sorry about springing the whole relationship thing on you. Just thought it’d be easier to fly under the radar as a couple….” You clenched your hands and wrung them together. Your eyes glanced at Dean to your left, quietly gauging his reaction.

“Don’t apologize, it’s ok. It was quick thinking. And who knows how suspicious detective douche would’ve been if you hadn’t.” Dean only took his eyes off the road for a moment to look over at you, lying through his damn teeth.

“True…guess Jen was right about the cops being jumpy here.” Finally, with that off your conscience you could relax into the leather seats with ease. Things were fine. You were just putting way too much thought into this flirting with Dean thing. It was just how your relationship with him was and everything was ok.

You were fairing much better than Dean though. Dean’s grip on the steering wheel could be described as vice-like. The insides of his fingertips could feel the stitches in the fabric of the wheel. It felt like he had cotton shoved into his head, there was only one thing consuming his thoughts. Was he really interested in having you the way you spoke of the other night? Bent over and vulnerable while you took advantage of him? Thank god that his right foot was preoccupied with the gas pedal or his entire leg would be bouncing.

To you his face looked stoic, and void of emotion. Dean’s eyes were painted with a foggy filter. Mentally he was miles away from the Impala. Every couple of minutes or so he would come back and hyper focus on a different part of the reality in front of him. Dean sometimes focused on the way his joints bent or how his skin felt, and other times focused on how you were too close to him and too far away at the same time. Dean’s hand was shaking, aching to have it on your leg, give you a good squeeze or anything just something to feel you and your skin on him. He wanted to feel your firm grip on him, on his legs, his hands, around his throat. He wanted so badly for your hips to be driving his into the mattress, coming up and down bouncing on his cock until he came closer and closer…

“Ready to head in and get some info.?” Your delicate voice slowly reintroduced him to the present. Dean looked in front of him and saw a beige building that looked like it was built in the 60s and was never remodeled since. The black letters on the brick wall by the front door read, ‘Grand Mesa County Libraries Central Library.’ His body was slowly returning to its normal temperature as he stepped out of the car.

“Yeah, let’s do it.” Getting back on track Dean prepared himself for the first step in every hunting trip you two took, do some re-con and get info about the case. He was gonna have to put his thoughts of you on the back burner for now, which was easier said than done. Once you passed the threshold, the smell of old carpet and moth balls slapped you in the face. It was a nostalgic potent smell that reminded you of your kindergarten years and would haunt you for the rest of your life. Looking around, the place did not seem too busy. There were a few people scattered across the building casually mulling through books and movies to check out.

“Wanna check the newspapers and I’ll look into local lore?” You two nodded to each other and went your separate ways diving deep into yellowed paper and books with broken spines. Soon enough you could no longer hear the soft thumps of Dean’s boots.

After scanning the isles you checked out a couple books and started a nest by the computers. The first thing you knew you had to check out was the case at hand. You tapped away at the very out of date computer keyboard.

Disappearances Grand Mesa National Forest

There were about a thousand hits online for disappearances. The hard part would be finding information from a reliable source. The first few minutes into researching changed your posture as your spine straightened up and mind shifted into its case-mode. Everything in the world went blurry except for the books and screen in front of you.

~~~~

‘Newspapers…newspapers.’ Dean’s fingertips brushed over the tops of age softened newspapers. Once you spend months in different libraries you tend to pick up what their usual lay out was, so the newspapers were an easy find. Thankfully instead of having to search through the records by hand, this library had a computer to search key words in to find articles. If Dean ever went to hell, he was sure that being forced to dig through newspapers by hand would be his torture.

‘Newly-Wed couple from Illinois vanished without a trace. Last seen in Grand Mesa National Forest.’

‘Scouts No Longer Holding Summer Camp in Grand Mesa National Forest After Four Scouts Lost to the Curse.’

‘The Grand Mesa Curse strikes again with the disappearance of a family of three.’

Seeing the pictures from the crime scenes made things real. Of course Dean knew the hidden reality that the supernatural world truly was, but sometimes it was easy to forget. It was easy to forget that there was true evil in this world, that there was evil more than just a greedy billionaire or corrupt politician, but pure evil that only sought to drag as many souls to hell as possible. There were so many families that had their loved ones ripped from them without a reason, completely unknowing of the darkness that lurked so closely to them. They would be driven mad with the lack of ‘logical’ facts in their eyes, cursed to never know what really happened and given answers that felt bitter to the taste. Others had their eyes opened unwillingly, shown what was behind the curtain before they could even sputter out an answer. Dean wondered what he would’ve chosen had he been given the choice. Would he rather know what killed his mother and spent his life fearing those that hid behind human faces? Or would he rather go on with his normal apple pie life never finding closure in the death of his mother? Neither option had more pros or cons than the other. He could spend a lifetime mulling the answer over and never find one that felt fight.

“Excuse me, are you looking for something in specific? You look a little lost…” Dean turned his attention upwards and saw a young librarian. She looked like she was probably a couple years older than him, a native here for sure.

“Huh?” Dean blinked a few times before really processing what she said to him while he was on autopilot. “Oh, no. I’m alright but thanks.” Dean offered her a smile before going back to flipping through the stacks of old newspapers.

The librarian nodded before looking at what headlines he was choosing. She raised a brow as assumptions about who this mysterious man was filled her head. “Interested in the Grand Mesa Curse huh?” Now there was something useful that he needed.

“Uh…yeah. Somethin’ like that. Know anything about it?” Dean leaned his arms on the newspaper stand. Any info you two could get would make this whole operation go smoother.

The woman let out a short breath of a laugh and shook her head. “It’d be impossible to live around here and not know about it. Around this time of year nobody really goes up into those woods, and especially near the mine shafts.” She paused for a beat and then continued. “My name’s Shan by the way.” Shan looked at Dean with an eagerness in her eyes. The gesture fell on deaf ears and Dean simply smiled back at her.

“Dean.” He held out his hand to hers, and gave her a firm shake. “Well, I’ve got all I need for now.”

“Feel free to call me if you need anything.”

“Will do, thanks.” What a nice lady.

~~~~

After collecting a handful of articles from different newspapers, Dean headed back to you ready to get down to business. You were hunched over a loud keyboard like a goblin, typing away all the notes you were compiling for future use. There were probably about 15 tabs open on one browser and 17 pages from various books that had been dog eared. From the looks of it, Dean could tell you were already on a roll. Not wanting to disturb you, he silently pulled out a chair next to you and started to flip through and score the articles he had.

About an hour later you two felt confident enough in your information to start piecing something together.

“Hey.” An unfamiliar voice interrupted your work process forcing you out of your thought bubble. When you looked up you saw what you assumed was a librarian who worked here looking right at Dean with some form of recognition lighting up her features. “Thought I’d check in to see how you were doing with the Grand Mesa Curse.” There was something in the tone of this girl’s voice that really put you off. Instinctively you tried not to reveal your true thoughts with your facial expressions. There was nothing on her, or within her, that was tripping up your Slayer signal, so she definitely was not a monster. Regardless, something was feeling weird as you looked between the two of them.

“Pretty good actually, just getting some basic information.” The two of them chatted for a bit before the girl eventually left to actually do her job. Ok there was a possibility that you were being harsh, but this girl was interrupting your research session so regardless she’s being a bother. Human or not.

Ok…

Deep breath….

You took a moment to restart yourself in a sense. She was human, and she wasn’t even at your table for too long so why were you so on edge around her?

Next to you, Dean felt something in the air shift and looked over to you. Your eyes were still glued to the computer screen but your vibe felt different, more ridged, and that worried him. Still looking at you, Dean nudged you with his elbow.

“Hmm?” You hummed, still focused on your research.

“You ok? You seem…upset.” Damn him for knowing you so well. Hunting together had given him the skill to pick up on all your tells. You didn’t know whether this was a blessing or a curse.

“What? No I’m ok.” You spared him a moment of your attention before returning to work. Dean slowly narrowed his eyes at you. The slightly higher pitched bubbly-ness in your voice was not genuine. You were lying, but he wasn’t going to press you on it in such a public place.

The moments drew longer and blurred together as you two eventually got back into the swing of things, but there was something that caught your attention as the hour flew by. It happened every fifteen or so minutes when you would catch a glimpse of that girl that talked to Dean. She would linger by the book stands and rearrange the books there, giving herself an excuse to look at Dean while she ‘worked.’ With each time she stalked near, her act became less and less convincing and it was starting to tick you off. You had work to do and she couldn’t take the hint with the piles of books you two had. Not to mention how little Dean seemed to pay attention to her advances. If she was a monster, she was a very poor one at that, but if she was a human then you had an idea of what she was after. Either option made you want to pull Dean’s chair closer to you, look over his shoulder to see what he was working on even though you already knew. A burning feeling started to ignite with every trip she made past your table.

Annoying woman aside, you two had found some important information. The history of the Grand Mesa National Forest was pretty plain. The forest was created by President Benjamin Harrison in 1892. No amount of digging brought up any supernatural affiliation. No massacres of any kind, no Native American burials, and no cults made that forest their home either. So this meant no large scale hauntings, which honestly relieved you. This narrowed the field down. Looking over articles from books and online and newspapers brought to light what was commonly known here as the “Grand Mesa Curse.”

It started about two decades ago when a group of college kids traveled up into the mountains for Christmas break. According to their parents they only planned on staying for a couple of days. Things took a turn for the worse when it had been three days after the kids were supposed to be home and no one heard from them. Entire search parties of police officers, family and friends, and many other volunteers combed the forest the best that they could. No bodies were found but their campsite was destroyed and barren. The press and police chalked this up to be the fault of the bears that roamed around, and the same was happening with the most recent case. Luckily this time around there was one girl who survived the attacks, Chrissy Hamilton.

There had been a couple cases before this particular one as well that dealt with bear attacks and missing people, but the thing that made it stand out was that the disappearances grew in number afterwards. They were all around the same time and similar location. Something that caught your eye immediately was that a girl from the group of college kids had the same last name as the sheriff you and Dean saw.

Lydia Sullivan, daughter of Rick Sullivan, went missing two decades ago and was never found. Her mother, Emily Sullivan, passed away soon after not being able to handle the death of her child. “Ok so if his daughter got merked, why is Sullivan Chief of Douchebags so lax with all these cases? You’d think he’d take his time.” Your tone of voice was low and gravely coming out slowly. That ass hole’s name was popping up everywhere. Rick Sullivan oversaw every single disappearance case in the Grand Mesa National Forest district since his daughter went missing. The man was seen as a determined father that wanted to keep Colorado’s kids safe. He may not have worked every case personally, but the records stated that he went over the paperwork and guided his officers.

“Maybe he’s luring kids into the forest? What purpose would he have to cover all of this up though if he wasn’t involved?” Dean leaned his forearm on the back of your chair to get a closer look at what you had.

“Doubt it, on all their suspect lists they show alibis too and his checks out. So that means that all of this is coincidental. He could be overseeing every case because he feels guilty for letting his daughter down?”

“Like a coping mechanism?” Dean sat back in his chair, eyes focused on a blank part of a wall as he tried to process everything.

You nodded. “Yeah, those things that normal people have.” You gave Dean a smirk knowing full well that both of your coping mechanisms included heavy amounts of alcohol and repression. Dean rolled his eyes at you with a smile that mirrored yours, remembering all the countless nights where you two would stay up far too late with a bottle of whiskey. Many times at the end of those nights the thoughts and pictures that kept you up at night would tumble out from your mouths. Subconsciously the space between you two would shrink, physically and emotionally. Dean could count on his left hand how many people he trusted and felt safe enough around to be vulnerable with. After all the shit you’d been through and years you’ve known each other, if he didn’t trust you he would never trust anyone.

“Hey, me again. Wanted to let you know that I found a couple of stragglers for the paper you two are putting together.” Jesus Christ this librarian really couldn’t see a moment when it was right in front of her could she? You had had enough of this girl’s talking. You thin string of will power snapped and opened up the lines from your direct thoughts to your mouth.

“Why are you here?” Your eyes narrowed. Dean was taken aback. He had seen you lose your temper before, but only on those who truly deserved it. I.E. bar assholes, clowns/mimes, and religious nuts trying to convert you. This wasn’t the usual anger he was used to seeing before you knocked someone out, it was a silent subtle kind that would creep up on you if you didn’t watch for the signals. He was seeing all of them in slow motion.

Your jaw was clenched, no doubt thinking of biting her head off if she didn’t scamper off back to the corner she came from. What was usually a smile was replaced with a thin line that showed no welcome. But the thing that scared him the most was your eyes, cold and distant. Those eyes had never been directed him, eyes void of compassion.

Shan flinched just the slightest, brows pulled together not expecting such a reaction. “Uh-um, I’m here to help. It’s kind of my job.” She bit back at the end of her sentence, though her stare was not nearly as intimidating as yours. When she talked to Dean earlier she assumed that the two of you were merely classmates or just friends, but she had a bad feeling that she barked up the wrong tree. Your aura seemed dangerous, like a crazy jealous girlfriend.

“It’s your job to creep around the patrons and watch them from afar while you pretend to do your job?” One brow was quirked as you leaned back with your knees open and arms crossed. The attitude you were throwing was one that would rival middle schoolers and mothers looking to talk to the manager. It was very out of character for you to be petty, it always made you feel sick afterwards.

Shan narrowed her eyes back, cheeks flushing a deep red. “Excuse me-”

“Listen sweetheart, my boyfriend and I have a lot of work to do and you’re being a bother. So how about you get back to your real job and stop making googly eyes at my partner huh?” Your bite was sharp as a knife, cutting deep into Shan’s emotions. She took one look at Dean, who was currently preoccupied with staring at you, and quickly scampered off. You shut your eyes and opened them with only one goal in mind. The faster you knew about this case, the faster you could get the hell out of this library.

Those thoughts that Dean were having to put on the back burner suddenly moved to the front. “So…..was she somehow endangering our hunt that you had to cover for us again?” The smug bastard was referencing what you did because of Detective Sullivan.

“Yes. She was endangering our efficiency.” Your fingertips flipped through a book closest to you, anything to not look at Dean. In the tone of his voice you knew he was pleased.

Dean was more than pleased, albeit a little confused about his feelings but pleased nonetheless. He loved hearing the commanding tone of your voice, telling some other girl to back off of him. Telling that girl to back off because he was yours. A needle pricked at the back of Dean’s mind as he replayed the rollercoaster of emotions he felt. He liked that moment. He liked your tone of voice, but why? It was because of the insinuations he could make. You wanted him. You wanted him to yourself, there was a possessiveness to what you said and how you said it. It was dominant and commanding.

No. Dean liked it because it meant you wanted him. He was not a bottom, and he did not like that interaction because you were possessive and domineering.

……

“Mmmhhmmmm,” Dean hummed, his inflection rising up and then down. Now it was his turn to lean back into his chair. His perfect lips were pursed with a small smirk, one brow quirked with intrigue. “You sure someone wasn’t jealous of a pretty lady giving me attention?”

“Sorry but the only pretty lady I see in this library is me,” Your voice attempted to make you seem preoccupied with cleaning up your space. Your fingers moved a lightning speed as you emailed yourself all the notes you had taken and shut down all the programs you had opened. “So I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Your facial features moved in a comical way depicting a dramatic expression of confusion, with a hand on your hip. The table was finally free of all your possessions, the last notebook was zipped up into your backpack.

Dean had you right where he wanted you, embarrassed and caught. He knew you would dodge and change the subject as quickly as you could if confronted with a topic you didn’t like. “I’m gonna remind you of this!” He shouted to you with his hands cupped around his mouth.

You were already speeding off to the car, desperate to run away from this conversation and what it could come to. If anyone was going to be in control of a situation, it was going to be you and you’d fight anyone and everyone for that control with your bare hands.

“I’ll forget it!” You yelled back at him over your shoulder, bleaching your mind of any itchy feelings you were experiencing.

“Constantly!” Dean yelled back, only to receive the bird from you. He laughed and tumbled after you, happy to finally have some new material to ruin your day with.

~~~~

After five minutes of Dean looking like the cat who got the cream, white all over his smug stupid whiskers, you arrived at a locally owned diner. If you rolled your eyes anymore you were certain that you would go blind, and yet it would still be worth it just to let Dean know that you were mildly inconvenienced by his existence. The hum of the impala came to a soft halt. With the combination of Dean teasing you and your hunger, you may have strangled someone if you didn’t get fries in you soon.

A bell attached to the door rang out once you two stepped foot inside. Only the waitress on staff bothered to look up from her post behind a counter, the other employees were too engrossed in just making it through another eight hour shift without losing their minds.

“Seat yourself wherever you like, I’ll be with you in a second!” She flashed a bright smile before dipping into the back of the kitchen. You and Dean nodded before following her directions and finding the corner booth in the back, cause that’s where all the cool kids sit. And with you two sitting there, only the coolest of kids sat there.

Dean leaned his chin on his hand and gazed at you. “So do you wanna talk more about how you secretly have a crush on me?”

“No.”

“Maybe about how you were totally going to duel that hot librarian for my hand?”

“Rot in hell.”

“Oh! Oh! Maybe we can discuss your feelings on a certain other topic that’s definitely unrelated.”

Your unamused eyes continued to look at him, giving him no response hoping that he’d take the FUCKING hint. “Oh yeah? And what topic would that be?”

“Me, and my cute face.” Dean winked and did his signature blue steel look. With a loud bang you hit your head on the table, laying your arms on the table around your head limp.

“Deaaannn, I swear to god I will strangle you until the last breath from your lung is used.”

“So what you’re saying is that you want your hands on me? You want to touch me?” Dean leaned closer and dropped his voice as low as he could go with every word that came out of his mouth just egging you on to do something. “You wanna put your hands all over my body?”

You whipped your head up, eyes wild and craving revenge, and you were just about to open your mouth and verbally destroy this stupid boy’s whole career when your waitress popped herself in front of the table.

“Hi! I’m Audrey, and I’ll be taking care you guys tonight. Have you been here before?” She had the whole speech memorized and recited it off as she handed you both a menu.

“Why no we haven’t! Darling aren’t you so excited to be here?” Dean grabbed your hand across the table affectionately with a huge fake smile. The weird vibe Audrey got from this table was throwing her off but regardless she had a job to do.

‘Some of us will never eat again…’ You thought to yourself, thinking of all the places you could stab Dean with a fork.

“Thrilled.” You stated, pointedly glaring at Dean and his boyish charm getting the best of you. Audrey smiled to herself and started to understand what was going on and dismissed her earlier thoughts. After getting you two started with drinks she left you to look over the food options.

“Can I guess what you’re gonna get?”

“As long as I get serve you cyanide afterwards.”

Dean settled into the booth and looked off into the distance to pretend to think very hard. “You are gonna get a cheeseburger with everything on it, as rare as they serve it. Side of fries and a large lemonade because even at age 23, you’re still an 8 year old.”

Damnit he was right.

You shared Dean’s smug look, ready to dish back what you were served. “Ok fine, you’re going to get the most overloaded bacon burger in order to cash in on that heart attack you’ve been waiting for forever, but hold all the vegetables because we want this one to be a big one. Side of fries and a shitty great value coke.”

Dean nodded slightly and clapped quietly for you. “Right you are.” A moment was spent in silence, just the two of you laughing at each other smiling like love struck idiots. Your eyes tore away first, landing on a newspaper that was from today. The headline was the real reason you decided to pick it up.

Local Crazy Believes Creature of the Night Kills Friend

You flipped through the pages to find the story. It was published today and showed a picture of your sole survivor, Chrissy Hamilton.

In a sad attempt to get some attention, Chrissy Hamilton offers her break out story.

“It was like my friends’ voices were coming from two different directions!”

“This thing was too fast to see…”

Clearly this is just another example of our country’s failed mental health system…

“I wouldn’t spend too much time reading that malarkey…” Audrey said with her eyebrows pulled together, eyes cast down as she refilled your water glasses.

“Do you know her?” You asked, laying the paper flat on the table for Dean to see too.

Audrey sighed as she stood back up, water pitcher straining her left wrist. “She’s my best friend. I’m not sure what really happened up there, but the newspaper doesn’t have to ruin her reputation like this and publish a drag story.” Her jaw clenched at the mention of the newspaper.

“Does she have any enemies at the newspaper, maybe that would want to defame her?” Dean spoke up. Audrey eyed Dean caught up in her own thoughts.

“We’re trying to run a counter story to get the Denver Times to redact the article.” You butted in, if this girl was going to give you anything it had to seem like she wasn’t gossiping with customers but giving info to fellow truth seekers.

Audrey pursed her lips in thought for a moment. “No, but the police chief doesn’t seem to like her. I don’t have any evidence to back it up, but I’m pretty sure he went to the head news correspondent and told him to run the article.” As more information poured in, the two of you couldn’t seem to figure out what the hell this cop’s problem was. He seemed to do everything in his power to derail this investigation, the dude was definitely hiding something.

“You’re pretty sure?”

“Yeah…they’re drinking buddies so it wouldn’t surprise me.” Audrey’s attention was pulled away when the bell at the front door rang again. “If you guys have any more questions I can answer them after my shift.”

You and Dean shared a look. “The same voice coming from two different directions and super fast? I think I have an idea of what we’re looking for…”

“Can we please talk to that Hamilton lady first, I’d very much like to drag this out before I freeze my balls off…”

_______________________________________________________________________

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jjmichie · 3 years

Text

The Day Kurt Cobain Died

The testing lab in the power plant had no windows.

It had thick concrete walls. And it contained four big machines for testing fuel samples, a back room where we took turns grinding and preparing the samples, a noisy liquid nitrogen tank, four baby boomers … and me. The intern.

On that day I was working the sulphur analyzer. I had just pushed a crucible deep into the chamber where it would soon ignite and cremate the sample, when the boomer named George came out from the back room. It was his turn to grind that week. It was unusual for anyone to emerge from the grinding room until all the grinding for the day was done, because whenever the door opened, a puff of toxic dust would permeate the whole lab. So, this was weird.

“Michelle … guess WHAT!” George took off his safety goggles and looked at me. He had a big dopey smile on his face. The others looked up from their respective machines too, turning their heads from me to George, then back to me, waiting to see whether I would actually guess.

I took off my goggles too.

George was a strange guy. Worst social skills I’ve ever encountered in a human being, coupled with a general simplicity of mind. His only real skill was his ability to follow his manager’s instructions. I always figured him to be a child that just happened to be adult-sized, but one day when we were working alone together, he asked if I would put my hair in pigtails. (I didn’t.)

But anyway.

George was still standing there grinning like an idiot, waiting for me to reply.

“What?” I finally said.

“They just announced on the radio that the “icon of grunge music” is dead.”

I stopped breathing. The room itself seemed to jump while the words he had just said rolled around in my head, unable to take hold, unable to plant themselves. Icon of grunge. Dead. I felt clammy all of a sudden and my chest felt tight.

“Grunge is that music you like, right?” George looked so proud.

Everyone was looking at me.

“Yes, but,” I muttered stupidly while my brain struggled to form the obvious question. “Who was it?” I was finally able to say, as I stood up. “Did they say WHO???”

George’s smile faltered. He tilted his head to the side.

“Oh … ” he finally said. “Hmmm, shoot. I didn’t catch who. Is there more than one icon of – ?”

“Good god, George,” said the boomer named Liz, who was running the BTU calorimeter. She rolled her eyes. “Can’t you pay attention to anything?”

“I remember when John Lennon died,” said the boomer named Debbie, to no one in particular.

“Yeah me too,” replied Liz. “I’ll never forget that day.”

But I wasn’t listening. I raced into the dust-filled grinding room where the radio was on. It was playing a Boston song. Fuck.

George followed me into the room, wringing his hands, looking forlorn. “I’m sorry. I guess I didn’t listen close enough. I just figured you’d know – ”

My mind was racing as it tried to put together the puzzle, based on the disparate scraps of sense I could assemble. Kurt? Eddie? Chris? Layne? Who? Who? Who? Foremost in my mind was Kurt. The article I had recently read in Rolling Stone had left little doubt that Kurt was struggling, and images from it still lingered, images of sickness and heroin and hopelessness. Several friends who had read the article too had predicted he wasn’t going to make it. Kurt. It must be Kurt. It must be drugs.

“Did you catch HOW at least?” I finally demanded. “I mean – what happened??“ I grunted in exasperation.

“Oh! Yes, they DID say how!” George’s proud smile returned. “An. Apparent. Suicide.” He recited confidently. “With a gun.”

The room jumped again.

Gun … ? That hadn’t been part of the image. Not at all. A new picture started forming. Blonde soaked with red. The violent finality of it. And for some reason the Weird Al Yankovic video started playing in my head. The senselessness of it all made me want to pound on the table and scream and throw something at George. We don’t sound much, like Madonna. Here we are now. We’re Nirvana. Yeah.

But I didn’t.

It came as no surprise when the Boston song finally ended and the announcer confirmed my assumption.

It was Kurt.

I put my head down on the grinding table and listened to the announcer’s voice as it relayed the scant facts that were known at this time and listened as it said this was a developing story and more would be reported when more was known. What more was there. What more could there be. What else was there to say. He was dead. Everything was over.

I left the grinding room and returned to my post at the sulphur machine, bringing with me a hollow ache that has never completely gone away. Why didn’t the radio follow the announcement with a Nirvana song? They didn’t play any Nirvana music that day. Couldn’t they have broken from their pre-defined corporate-approved fucking-horrible classic rock playlist just for one day? For just one song?

The sulfur machine had completed its test and was waiting for me to fish the crucible out of the chamber. But my hand was still clammy and I dropped it. I would have to run that sample again.

Meanwhile George and Liz and Debbie had gathered in a semi-circle while their machines whirred behind them. One by one, they went around the circle and recounted in detail where they were when they learned John Lennon died.

When they got to me they stopped.

“Hmm,” Liz crossed her arms and glared at me. “You probably don’t even REMEMBER that, do you? Were you even ALIVE?”

I looked at her. Really? I just learned my hero is gone. I just learned the voice of my generation has been silenced forever. He’ll never say another word. He’ll never write another song. Never another lyric. The horror of life and depression and what must have been unbearable pressure took him. Took him from Courtney. Took him from Francis Bean. From Dave and Krist. And from ME! And everything this meant, everything this was, everything HE was … it’s just over now. It’s gone. Fuck Fuck Fuck. And you are talking about yourself? Your music. Your boomer world. The look I gave her must have been enough to discourage any further attempts at conversation. They moved on to the next person. No longer a semi-circle. Now a closed circle.

But just then the door to the lab swung open and the fourth boomer, Patrick, who was younger than the rest of them, entered the room. Returning from his lunch break, fresh from his motorcycle ride, he seemed to bring energy and sunlight into the room with him.

“Hey kiddo,” he said to me, completely ignoring the circle. He took off his sunglasses but kept his leather jacket on. “I heard about your guy. That sucks. I’m so sorry.” He opened his arms. “You okay?”

I didn’t bother to hide how much I loved him at that moment. I ran across the room into his arms and buried my face in his leather.

#kurt cobain #nirvana #grunge #1994

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powerpuff-ali · 4 years

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Ok, so here's my first official drabble I'm posting ever. I'm just tired of rereading it at this point and too nervous to post.

I really just needed some wholesome, slightly domestic greens... Trigger warnings: none

Rating: teen and up? Nothing explicit and very moderate language.

Edit: trying to figure out how to shorten this post.... Also word count is 3,054

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Buttercup growled to herself as she left the gym. Pounding the pavement as the sun beamed down on her already overheated body. It had been another grueling day at work and she was beyond her limit. Anything that could go wrong, did go wrong.

First, the ellipticals needed to be regreased, then the dance rooms weren't properly stocked or cleaned, some of the lockers were dented and therefore stuck, and on top of all of that, one of her clients tried lifting the heavier weights despite her suggestion not to. Of course, the man then blew his back out. Truthfully, the list could go on but she was done thinking about work. What she really needed was food, a shower, and a nap. Desperately, in that order.

Buttercup quickly raced to her boyfriend's apartment. Butch usually hid the good snacks in his room away from his brothers. She attempted to take a discreet sniff of herself while waiting for the light to change. Eh, she's definitely smelled better. Maybe a shower before eating would be best.

She greeted the doorman with a weak smile as he opened the lobby doors for her. Once in the elevator, she looked down at the key. Butch had forced the key on her in an attempt to be romantic. She chuckled to herself, remembering how flustered he was and just how oblivious she was to what he meant.

He kissed her hands, biting her left pointer finger, " I love you so much."

She giggled at the gesture, " Yeah, yeah. I love you too."

He turned on his side, propping himself up slightly, " No, really. I mean it, I do. A lot." He leaned in, kissing her nose softly.

" What? You think I don't mean it?" Buttercup squeezed his jaw affectionately.

" I didn't say that. I'm just saying, y'know, you have the key to my heart," Butch had slipped a metal object into her hand. His eyes fluttered to the hand he was holding before looking up again.

Buttercup locked onto his forest green eyes, unaware of the object, " Alright, something's up. What stupid shit did you do?"

" I put something in your hands. Look," Butch pressed the key into her palm.

" A key? Like an actual key to your heart? That's nice," Buttercup used her entire will not to laugh. She didn't make an attempt to take hold of the key. Did he get this idea from Boomer?

" Ugh, no! I'm just saying since you have the key to my heart, you should finally have the key to the apartment," he pressed the key harder in her palm to get her to grip it.

" What do I need this for? You're always here anyway so you'll just let me in, " the blank stare in her face was infuriating for him.

" Yeah but it'd be easier if you had your own key. Maybe moved some more of your things here since the gym is close by," he cooed at her.

She cocked her head and met his eyes, " But then I wouldn't have my things at home where I need them."

" Yes but then you'd get to be with me more," his eyes widened at her trying to get her to take the hint.

She watched him, narrowing her eyes, " Do you get high before I got here?"

"Ugh, woman! I can never be romantic with you! I'm asking you to start moving in with me," he covered his face, hiding his exasperation, " God, you make it fucking impossible to be romantic."

Buttercup grinned foolishly to herself. She wasn't too caught up on being romantic and neither was he but when he was, he could usually ease her into it. She stepped into the apartment and made a beeline to his door, "Butch."

Butch briefly turned his face to her before settling back on his screen, " Hey beautiful. No not you, jackass."

" You playing with Boomer?" She tossed her equipment bag to the side and kicked off her shoes. She stretched, flexing her legs to get that extra stretch.

" More like beating his ass. How was work?" Butch smashed at the buttons on his keyboard furiously, dodging shots from Boomer's character.

Buttercup sighed, " I don't even want to think about it right now."

" Hold on, Boomer," Butch gave her his full attention. A sigh wasn't good. It was never good, " Everything okay?"

" Yeah, I just need a shower first, " she pulled a fresh set of clothes and her towel into the bathroom.

" Alright," he turned back to his game and yelled expletives at his brother for trying to steal his loot.

The cold water cascading through her hair felt like heaven. Her scalp tingled, rinsing away the heat of her stress. She questioned whether or not she should head back home to the Professor today. No, I open tomorrow so I should just spend the night here.

Although she was 22, she chose to stay at home to live in her childhood home to have proper space from Butch. They had gone from enemies to lovers in highschool and since they both decided against college, they had seen each other almost every day since then. Ugh, how am I not sick of him? Smiling to herself, she knew she couldn't get enough of him.

The water shut off and she dried herself. Wrapping her shoulder length ebony hair in the towel, she tossed on his shirt and her briefs. Her stomach growled in protest. Right, I need food. I could really go for a-

A grilled ham and cheddar cheese sandwich, chips and an ice cold cola were plated for her next to Butch's half eaten sandwich, " Babe, I put mustard in yours already. Boomer, shut up. I've heard the shit you call Bubbles." He had actually taken the time to make her food while she showered.

" If he's home too, why didn't you two just sit on the couch and play?" Buttercup's mouth was full, munching away at her food. She loved sitting together with Blossom and Bubbles for game nights. It made gloating about their wins so much more enjoyable.

" And actually spend time with him? I don't think so. Shut up, Bubbles is with you in there too," Butch smashed his mouse down, the plastic cracked under the pressure.

Buttercup watched as the keyboard clacked under Butch's excitement for a while. She finished off the last of her cola as the exhaustion set in. She lifted herself off of the bed and straddled his lap. Burying her face in his neck, her left hand pulled at his raven hair slightly. She could feel him swallow faintly.

Butch kissed her temple. Muting his mic he pressed his cheek to hers, " Wanna talk about it now?"

" Fred blew out his back and nearly his rectum too while doing squat lifts after I told him he wasn't ready," She breathed out.

Butch bit back a laugh, " This isn't the first time. Why does that old man think he knows better than you? A literal trained professional."

" I don't know. I still don't like seeing my clients get hurt," Buttercup could hear Boomer yelling through Butch's headphones.

" Boomer, stop yelling. I can hear you," he muted his mic again, " Well, you're home now so just relax."

" That's what I'm doing," Buttercup closed her eyes and breathed in his scent. He smelled like her green apple shampoo. Something that he had once considered too girly to exist in his bathroom was now his favorite scent. Mostly because it reminded him of her but he claimed it actual smelled edible.

Butch cradled her so she could position herself better on his lap, " I'm logging off now. Yes I am. Because something way more important requires my attention." He tossed his head set to the side and squeezed her hips.

" You didn't have to end the game," she hummed into his neck giving him instant goosebumps.

" I wanted to. I missed you today," His fingers traced down her spine. Butch loved that she wore his shirts. According to him, that's when she looked "the hottest".

" Hey, how long have we been together for?" Buttercup opened an eye and stared at the bed, the sheets beckoned for her muscles to rest against them.

He hummed for a moment, " If we want to get technical, we've been officially dating since I turned 18 but if you want to count all the other fun shit we used to do, then we got together when we were 15."

" No way," Buttercup recounted the years in her head, " Weren't we 17?"

" No, we were definitely 15. Remember it was at the homecoming dance? Bubbles dressed you in that god awful neon green puffy dress and black knee high converse sneakers. We ended up slow dancing and I kissed you. Then we were making out regularly, we started fooling around and then during the summer before senior year, we finally started hooking up but then I had to actually ask you out because you were completely clueless that we were already together."

She scoffed," You were always playing games, that's why. Some days you didn't look twice at me and other days you had me cutting class so we could go hang out."

" Dates. Those were dates. Also, I was trying to play it cool that you would ignore me by ignoring you," He squeezed her tight, kissing her right shoulder blade.

" You needed to be more direct," her shoulders shook with laughter.

" Woman," he sighed out softly, he knew she was pressing his buttons, " if you're asking me how long I think we've been together, my answer is since we were 15. We've been together for seven, almost eight years."

" I've seen your stupid face almost everyday for eight years," she sat up to kiss his cheek, " Eight years well spent."

Butch was grateful she had settled down against him because she would've teased him for the blush on his face, " I'm glad you think so. You'd see me a lot more if you lived with me full time." That was what the key was for!

" I already see you everyday," she leaned back to get a good look at him, her eyes heavy and forearms aching.

" I'm convinced you don't love me by any means," he shook his head, grinning at her.

" So tell me what you want from me and I'll tell you yes or no but first, carry me to the bed. I feel like I'm about to pass out," she pointed to the bed and pouted, something she knew he couldn't resist.

Butch rolled his eyes and tossed her onto the comforter. He turned off the lights and snuggled underneath it with her, " Okay so I want you to move in full time and actually live with me."

" Live with you and both your brothers while also having to deal with my sisters being here? That's a lot to ask for," she felt his hand wrap around, fingers toying with her stomach lightly.

" Then maybe you move in and we can save up for our own place. It's not like we don't have money saved up," Butch traced her abs. He loved how strong she was, how passionate she was about pushing herself to do more. She was the reason he stayed motivated.

" I like that idea better. Okay, I'll move in then. What's next on your list?" Buttercup adored when he traced her abs. She could feel it in the top of her head and trickle down her spine which made it all the more relaxing. When was the last time I got him in the gym?

" Hmm, let's see, we should get married," he felt her core tense up. It was an idea he had flirted with for a while. Originally, he just didn't understand why it was so important. After overhearing Blossom and Bubbles talk about what they would want their weddings to be like, he didn't want to wait any longer with Buttercup. I know I want her forever. Why put it off any longer?

Buttercup's big picture never included marriage. Was it really that big of a deal? What was all the hype about? Was he going to expect her to be a stay at home wife? He knew better, right? " Not if you're expecting me to be like a stay at home wife. I don't mind caring for you but I'm also not going to be waiting on you hand and foot."

"No! Of course not! That isn't who I got with. That's not who you are and that's not what I'm expecting," he kissed her ear gingerly.

" As long as we're on the same page then yes," she could feel his grip tighten.

" Okay, I want kids too. At least," he squinted his eyes, thinking for a moment, " Five."

She flipped over and glared at him, " I want kids too but I hope you're planning on carrying the other three because the most I'm giving you is two. Are you seriously insane? You want me to have five? Five pregnancies?"

" Babe, if I could I would. Aren't you tired? You said you would only say yes or no but I'm getting back talk for everything!" His fingers glided down her spine, resting at the small of her back. Those lime green eyes lit something up in him he was never able to explain.

" I am tired but you keep saying ridiculous things," she hooked her leg over his to pull him in closer.

" Fine, you're right," he closed his eyes. A nap definitely sounded good. Between his programming job and playing online with Boomer, his eyes were sore.

Except for his humidifier, the room went silent. Soft sounds from the living room thrummed through the walls, " So when are we getting married?"

Butch's eyes shot open, "Huh?"

" I was thinking when we were closer to our thirties but," she paused for a moment, " eight years is a pretty long time to be together."

He pulled back to watch her face, " Are you awake or asleep?"

Buttercup opened one eye and met his, " I'm awake. You have me thinking now though. Maybe you have a point and we should get married sooner."

" Don't say it like that though! Do you want to be married to me? Is this what you want?" Butch positioned his arm under him to sit up.

Buttercup toyed with the idea of marriage. She loved him. She wanted no one else but him. Her mind wandered for a moment. Two moments and she smiled, " I want us to get married so you can be my housewife."

Butch pulled her on top of him, " I want to be your house wife too."

" I only want to get married under one condition though," Her muscles throbbed each time he moved her.

" Name it."

" We get married in Vegas. I don't want frills and whatever other crap. I want us to do the whole drive through wedding officiated by an Elvis impersonator in a '65 green Ford convertible. We check into a nice hotel, hit up the casinos and have our drunken wedding pictures taken by our siblings and a photo booth," her eyes lit up, speech sped up. She was definitely awake now.

Truthfully, Butch hadn't pictured her the type to want a classic wedding anyways so knowing she had actually somewhat thought this through was comforting to him, " Bubbles might want to kill you. Hell, your father might want to kill me. Both. Both Bubbles and your old man would kill me if I agreed to this but this does sound so much better than some stupid big wedding."

" Doesn't it sound like fun though?" She nudged him, " Come on, this is, like, our dream wedding! This suits us!"

Damn it, she's right. " How about this, we book a trip to Vegas, all of us, and we get married like you just described without telling them. Then Bubbles can plan you some princessy wedding and we satisfy everyone."

" Ugh, I don't want a princess wedding! I'm not a princess!" She sat fully up now, crossing her arms over her chest like some overgrown child.

" You're my badass princess but I'm scared of your sister so you'll either be a young widow or you suffer in silence for a day to keep me alive," he treasured seeing her so electrified.

Her cheeks burned slightly, " Not a princess and yeah, okay. We'll have two weddings then."

" Fine then you are my queen. So how about we do something even crazier?" Butch pushed against her knee to lift himself up, " Let's get everyone to drive out to Vegas and we get married this weekend?"

Buttercup smiled deviously, " Are you asking me what I think you're asking me?"

" Buttercup Utonium, I'm asking you to do me the honor of being my amazing partner, beautiful wife and take on the burden of having me as your dashing husband," her hand in his, he matched the spark in her eyes he had fallen for all those years ago.

Oh wow. Her breathing unexpectedly hitched at the flicker in his eyes. Hearing it really was a different experience like Bubbles had tried to explain to her numerous times. She squealed, jumping on him, " Yes! Of course, I will!" Her heart lightened, stomach fluttered. She didn't imagine that him asking would be a big deal but somehow it felt amazing hearing the words.

Butch wrapped his arms around her tight, " Alright so after our nap, we can make more plans, okay?"

Buttercup kissed him sweetly, " I love you."

All the blood in his body rushed to his face, " I love you too." How did I end up so lucky? Maybe that should be the theme. Lucky cards, lucky life.

With that, Buttercup settled her cheek against his chest, listening to his heart surge. There were so many things to think about now, so much to plan. The air was cool and comforting. It cradled them. Marriage! Before their siblings at that! Who'd have thought the greens would have an actually successful relationship?

" I think I still need to mature before we have kids though so maybe we save that for our thirties?" Butch broke the silence, his eyes focusing on their posters.

" It's funny you thought I would have it any other way."

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

Hope you enjoyed. I'm sorry if it's messy or lacking detail.

#powerpuff girls #ppg #ppg buttercup #ppg butch #ppg x rrb #buttercup #rrb butch

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consumedkings-archive · 4 years

Text

ancient names, pt. vii

A John Seed/Original Female Character Fanfic

Ancient Names, pt vii: anything that touches

Masterlink Post

Word Count: ~6.4k (sorry I’m a clown)

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

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

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

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

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

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

John had never felt dread like this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stay here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do what to me, deputy?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m five foot four, you fuckhead.”

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

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

For the sake of both of us.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

John’s eyes narrowed. “Let me see.”

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

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

Elliot swallowed thickly. “Goody.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll be here all night.”

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

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

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

“I suppose so, deputy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do not —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Elliot.”

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

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

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

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

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

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Joseph Seed is a particularly difficult man to pin down.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Rookie, cuff this son of a bitch.”

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

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

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

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

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

The second thing that John felt was dread.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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xoruffitup · 4 years

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Adam Driver on SNL: 1/25 Dress Rehearsal Recap

I’m having dejavu of the best kind. I’m sitting here on the bus on my way back from NYC in hungover euphoria and overjoyed disbelief at everything I just experienced, texting new friends and old, recounting everything in my head and smiling so hard. The September 2018 weekend of Adam’s last SNL show lives in my memory in unmatched infamy, so my excitement was off the charts to do it all again. And because this show was absolutely fucking INCREDIBLE, this weekend delivered in every way all over again!! Seriously, my face aches from how I can’t stop smiling aksnksj HELP :’)

My friends and I were in the Dress Rehearsal, so below the cut are retellings of ALLLL the skits including those cut from the Live show - and no small amount of helpless emotional flailing.

I had an idea of what to expect after attending Adam’s 2018 show, but I nevertheless felt sky-high levels of anxiety when Sarah and we arrived at the NBC shop at 6:30. I knew rationally that our chances of getting into Dress were good with numbers #12 - 14, but every now and then there’s the occasional oddity of only a handful of Standby people getting in. Though even without any uncertainty in the equation, my entire being goes on Hyped/Anxious Overdrive anyway whenever I’m about to be in the same space as Adam sO really there’s nothing for it. :’)

They lined us up by numbers, I did a lot of emotional wobbling like “I can’t believe we’re here again together guys waaaah” (have I mentioned I met these girls at Adam’s last show? Full circle moment of the highest and most beautiful caliber and it had me hella verklempt), and thennnn - drumroll and hushed silence please - the main security guy comes up to the giant line and asks the first 20 people to come with him.

As they constantly remind you throughout this thoroughly nerve-wracking process, there is no guarantee you’ll actually get into the show until you’re physically in the seat. It’s a long, harrowing trip from the NBC store where the line gathers, up stairs, elevators, and through hallways to reach the studio, and you can still be cut even as far as the very last checkpoint if all seats fill up with the people ahead of you. So as you get closer, the excitement spikes higher and higher but so does the worry! We went through security, and then I clung to our new Standby line friend Catherine’s arm as they lined us up two-by-two on the first staircase, with Sarah and @reylonly right behind. I was likely extremely annoying as I couldn’t help being rambly and weird in my nerves and compulsively hugging my girls’ arms. @reylonly did her very best to calm my hot mess down, bless her.

About 45 minutes later (Maybe? I had no idea what time was, lbr) we reached the final point of the elevator and last hallway, and were held just outside the studio. THEN - the woman there instructed the next 4 to follow her in (thank GOD because we were terrified of being split up), WE WENT INTO THE STUDIO WHEW YAYAY OMFG WE WERE THERE!!! - but then oh no it happened so fast that she pointed @reylonly down to a single seat in the center and then the other 3 of us to seats towards the left side of the stage. They were all single seats, but thank GOSH they were all end seats of rows right next to each other. So Sarah was right in front of me and I could grab her shoulder (which I would do a lot in increasingly desperate excitement over the next 2 hours), and Catherine and I could reach across the aisle to cling to each other’s hands! @reylonly was on her own but in an incredible seat, and during commercial breaks we would lean forward to wave and blow kisses to each other and mime flailing or crying as one incredible sketch after another played out in front of us. I made sure to be friendly and talk to the people sitting next to me so they wouldn’t be too annoyed with me and Sarah always grabbing at each other, but LOL they probably thought I was at least a little insane. I mean, maybe for the moment alone when I saw a girl I’d made friends with in line but then lost track of in a seat not too far from me, and we started waving and dabbing at each other. Once we were seated there in the studio, all the anxiety gave way to surging excitement and I was practically bouncing in my seat, so overjoyed to be there and see my dear fandom friends there with me!

Michael Che warmed up the audience with some standup, the House band jammed, and Sarah and I momentarily got Extremely Excited when we saw them setting up the hell backdrop set for the cold open and thought at the time it was supposed to be Tattooine for a Star Wars skit, lolol. But then the actual show started, and with our Adam-eagle eyes Catherine reached out to whisper “there he is! In the blonde wig!” And, heart in my throat no matter how many times I see this man in person, I frantically squinted at all the people waiting just off to the side of the set until I saw that unmistakably Tol Broad back, and then he stepped onto the set and into the lighted camera’s view and I was cheering and clapping so hard for his first appearance that I couldn’t hear who he was supposed to be playing. xD I was just tapping Sarah’s shoulder in front of me, bouncing in my seat a little, and trying not to start levitating with the sheer force of my excitement and joy to be there.

OKAY from here I’ll break this up by skit! Anything that was different or missing from the Live show I put in bold font if you want to skip to that! Starting with...

Intro Monologue

WHAT A GOOD MONOLOGUE, ITS LIKE THEY JUST LET ADAM RUN WITH IT AND WRITE IT HIMSELF IT WAS SO HIM AND HILARIOUS AND WEIRD AND YET CHARMING IDEK I WILL NEVER COMPREHEND THE WONDER OF THIS MAN??

So when he dropped the bomb of “I’m a husband and a FATHER” I clapped Sarah’s shoulder SO HARD, then he made he joke “I’ve made it very clear to my son that he’s second in everything” and I could not bELIEVE the wonder of what I was hearing omfg. I heard the words “my son” come out of his mouth with my own ears WHO COULD HAVE PREDICTED, SURE AS HELL NOT ME????

Then he went into the audience to demonstrate how “approachable” he is and was so awk/weird/hilarious I was just losing it, then took his time meandering around the stage and making weird faces into the camera and I was just LOSING IT. And AKSKSJA after that he wandered over to another camera that was lower and kind of hummed as he lifted his shirt and put it over the camera so we got a full on belly button view for 2 unbelievable glorious seconds!! He looked up at the monitors as he was doing it and went “oh you can’t see anything” so that’s probably why he sadly didn’t flash his belly in the Live show.

“Cheer” with Adam as one of the team coaches

I’m going by the skit order in Dress, and this one was first after the monologue. Best part for me was the accent reminiscent of Clyde Logan. :3 But tbh, of the 6 skits they did for the Live show, I kind of wish this one had been swapped for the one performed last in Dress that was sO Wild and would have made fandom absolutely lose its shit aksnksal more to come on that.

UNDERCOVER BOSS AKA RANDY THE INTERN

THE BEST GIFT WE COULD HAVE RECEIVED!! BLESS YOU SNL AND ADAM FOR GIVING US KYLO CONTENT TO BE HAPPY OVER AND LOVE WHOLE HEARTEDLY. T___T

Honestly, I cannot even properly describe my reaction when the Undercover Boss intro logo appeared on all the monitors oHMYLoRDDD. I nearly leapt out of my seat, like my heart nearly jumped clear out of my chest oh my fuck and I was legit holding onto Sarah so much I almost slid out of my seat - I just couldn’t believe it and I cheered SO LOUD. The entire audience erupted with this “HOLY SHIT” vibe outburst and I was SO happy to be there in that moment - knowing that our entire fandom was only hours away from this!! I honestly didn’t expect it at all - after they didn’t do one of these the second time Adam was on, I thought there was no chance. But IT HAPPENED AND IT WAS SO QUALITY HILARIOUS WE ARE SO BLESSED - THANK YOU TO RANDY’S LIL BEANIE AND VEST AND HIPSTER PANTS.

Pretty sure I like half curled up on myself laughing so hard my feet left the floor at OK BOOMER. And at the part with “will Rey take his hand?” I swear MY SOUL NEAR LEFT MY BODY I MEAN IS THIS THE REAL LIFE IS THIS JUST FANTASYYYY

..... Can someone come promise me we really didn’t just collectively hallucinate that??

SAG Awards Fashion Red Carpet

I’m not too disappointed this one was cut. Of all the amazing skits performed, I would have ranked this one lower. Adam and Kenan Thompson were fashion critics talking about celebs’ looks on the SAG red carpet. A minute in Adam says, “We should be paying more attention to the kids!” Kenan: *nervous laugh* “uh, should we??” Adam starts talking about/admiring the outfits for like Finn Wolfhard etc, with hilarious but bordering creepy descriptions like “masculine but not quite fully grown,” until Kenan is like “umm maybe we shouldn’t be talking about kids this much?”

They interview a girl who’s supposed to be Jojo Siwa and Adam’s like “you should know I think you’re beautiful. Kids need to hear more often that they’re beautiful.” Kenan panics, going “alRIGHT we’re gonna cut back to the studio now!” The skit ended with Adam: “I got a ticket to the Nickelodeon afterparty and I’m gonna swipe one of those kids in my pocket!”

“Slow” Digital Short

HONESTLY, this competes with Undercover Boss for my favorite skit of the night. I can’t even tell you - I had literal tears running down my face I was laughing SO fucking hard during this entire thing. From the first moment we heard Adam’s deep-ass voice I absolutely and entirely lost my shit oh my GOD. We’d been so pumped for Adam in some kind of rap sketch when we saw the photos of him and Kenan filming the day before, but it was SO FUCKING GOOD. I will never ever in all my days not bust out laughing at “Bring that ass here” and “In a 65 hour lane going 2” aksnskns I’m on the bus struggling to fight back laughter just thinking about it SEND HELP!!!

It’s just brilliant. The turtle next to his expensive loafers. His cheesy sunglasses. That shot of his glorious bare arms. His deep voice “Baby” when they’re at the door and “But I brought ice cream” oh my god I love it so much BLESS YOU SNL BLESS YOU. I never in all my days thought I’d get Adam rapping but it’s every single thing I never knew I needed.

Del Taco Commercial / “Aw Man I’m All Outta Cash!”

ADAM’S SLEAZY LOOKING LONG WIG LMAO. This one was a wild and funny time once you got into it and just let it go. Once Kyle, Beck, and Adam were all yelling the line and Adam went “You don’t want to kill yourself, you just want a taco, Jesus” everyone was ROLLING. I think the only difference (is this even worth color coding lol) was that after Kyle took his pants off Adam kept slapping his thigh during Dress bahaha.

“Hot Dad” Adam dealing with a clogged toilet at a teenaged girls’ sleepover

Adam and Kate McKinnon comedy together YES PLEASE. This one was all the same as far as I can remember, but I will say that a woop/cheer rose from the people sitting near the set for this one at the line about Adam being a “hot Dad.” Yep sounds about right.

(Halsey’s first song, Weekend Update)

Medieval Renaissance Fair

You can’t have Adam host SNL without giving him some ridiculous character skit ala Oil Baron Parnassus. I absolutely loved how intense and deep he was for this kind of nonsense xD We can thank this skit for giving us footage of Adam yelling “Whore!” and spitting, lmao. Also.... I’ll just say in that outfit and wig he looked even Extra Big in comparison to everyone around him.

Courtroom Trial / Sinbad on Cameo

I’m also okay with this one being cut, but I was biased to enjoy the hell out of it live because the set was right in front of where I was sitting and I had such a perfect view of him. <3

Adam was supposed to be the defendant in a case where a female coworker claims he harassed her by sending “threatening” videos. Adam goes up on the stand and the prosecutor asks “are you familiar with these videos?” Cut over to Kenan Thompson, who’s pretending to be Sinbad on the app Cameo, making videos for the woman that are like “Hey you better give Mark a chance! Otherwise he might come after you!” Adam responds with disbelief: “I have no idea who this Sinbad person is and frankly, your honor, this is pissing me off.” Kenan acts a few more videos which keep getting funnier because he keeps eating things or being in crowded public places while filming them. But in the final video he references Adam’s character’s name so it’s clear he was the one requesting the videos. Adam gets all sad on the stand: “It doesn’t matter. No one likes me anyway!” It ends with Kenan as Sinbad crashing into the courtroom in person.

This was more Kenan’s skit as he really was hilarious, but someone had to explain to me afterwards who Sinbad is and how the Cameo app works so I didn’t quite ~get it while watching. BUT more importantly - Adam looked great despite the weird brown wig he had on. During the second of Kenan’s videos when the cameras were on Kenan instead, Adam’s face definitely started quivering with suppressed laughter until he visibly locked it down like NO FOCUS ADAM. Most of my attention stayed fixed on the buttons of his shirt because hOOo boy were they straining! Without me even saying anything, Catherine reached across the aisle for me immediately afterwards and whispered, “That shirt did /not/ fit well.” OH YES I NOTICED >:33

PBS Science Show

Another one which was performed right directly in front of us!! I already knew this was going to be a good one because Adam went right over to the skeleton mannequin when he came on set and started playing with it, like making the arm and wrist wiggle around. The biggest dork cutie you’ll ever see.

He was standing right under me, which meant once he started handling the balloon I got mighty distracted watching his MASSIVE hands around that tiny-looking balloon. >:)) Then I cracked up so hard when he got exasperated and threw something back against the window. WE GOT TO SEE HIM SMASH SOMETHING IN PERSON YESSSS

Ketchup bottles

Oh my GOD EVERYTHING WAS AMAZING ABOUT THIS ONE FROM START TO FINISH. The best part though might have been the prep beforehand. Someone carried the giant Ketchup and hot sauce bottles onto the set before the actors came on and we were like wtf? (For a minute I was triggered remembering Kanye coming on in his Perrier bottle during the 2018 show) But THEN Adam and Cecily Strong came on in big red shirts and people started lifting the giant plastic bottles over them and LOL we realized where this was going. They definitely struggled for a minute getting Adam’s bottle up over his head because of his height xD People in the audience were already laughing just watching this costume set up, and once Adam got the bottle on a WOOT cheer rose which I later learned was none other than @reylonly aka my hero. It was followed by someone yelling “THATS HOT”, which akndosjan made Adam laugh and raise his arms with a hilarious little shimmy in the bottle. He really seemed to be enjoying himself during the whole show, but during this ridiculous and incredibly hilarious skit especially so.

Game Night / Movie Quote Competition

OKAY this is the skit it’s a real tragedy didn’t make it on air! There were lines in this I couldn’t beLiEvE my ears were hearing, and if we ever get a recording I’m pretty sure the fandom would basically implode.

Three couples are sitting around a living room having a game night. Adam is sitting with Kate McKinnon with his arm around her. After they finish playing Settlers of Catan, Heidi Gardner suggests they play a movie quote game where one of them says a line from a movie and the rest have to guess the movie. She is clearly very into it, and the others reluctantly agree. It quickly becomes clear that Adam is just as good at the game as she is, and they immediately start becoming competitive. They reach the point where they quote three lines from Captain Phillips in a row, trying to trick each other. As the game gets more heated, they exchange aggressive flirty banter such as:

Heidi: You really know your movie quotes, huh? Adam: Yeah I do. Heidi: And with some BDE over there. Adam: Yeah, I got that too.

AND !!!!!!!!!!

Heidi: You’re quite the movie flick daddy. Adam: I’m the world’s biggest flick daddy.

!!!!!!!!! HE CALLED HIMSELF A DADDY HELP CALL 911 EMERGENCY !!!!!!!!!!

The game keeps escalating until Kate tries to calm Adam down and he brushes her off. Everyone else tries to tell Heidi to relax, and she responds “What?! I’m supposed to lie back and let (Kate’s character’s name)’s hot husband rail me??”

I WAS FLOATING ON THE CEILING BY THIS POINT, I literally couldn’t believe what my ears were hearing alsdfjsldafjlsdkfj!

It gets to the point where they’re both standing, shouting completely vague snippets of lines at each other while the other continues to guess correctly. Until finally Adam exclaims, “I got a good one!” He grabs her and fULL ON kisses her.

(Pictures from The Adam Driver Files twitter.)

Immediately afterwards she goes, “I know! That was the kiss from (Movie X - I can’t remember the exact title).” Adam: “HOW DID YOU KNOW?!” Heidi: “From how you moved your tongue!”

I’m still reeling from this one. Adam calling himself a daddy, talk of “getting railed” by him, and intense kissing?! Oh my lORDDDD. I’m still trying to keep it playing on a loop in my ears. I’m not sure if we as a fandom could collectively survive a full video of this, but GOD I hope we get the chance to test ourselves. RELEASE THE UNAIRED VIDEO, YOU NBC COWARDS!!!

FLICK DADDY INDEED

...Aaaaaaand that was a wrap! After 10 skits and nearly 2.5 hours, it literally felt like I had run a marathon at a full sprint. I was just trying to process everything I’d just witnessed, while trying to focus on committing every single thing to memory. I just couldn’t believe the range of amazing and hilarious things I’d just seen Adam doing: Play a talking ketchup bottle, call himself a daddy, awkwardly talk about feminine products clogging his toilet, yell “WHORE” then spit and swing a medieval mace around, rap hilariously, and yell about umami?? It was all almost TOO MUCH.

For full-circle and emotional fulfillment reasons, I wore my Save Ben Solo shirt to the show just like I did at the 2018 show. I had debated beforehand whether it would be too bittersweet to wear it after TROS, but now I’m so glad I did. All these hilarious and zany skits were just what we all needed to continue the cycle of fandom excitement and positivity despite the last month. I’m so incredibly grateful to SNL for such great material for Adam to work with and us to laugh at, and for giving us the perfect reminder that there’s still so much to whole-heartedly appreciate and love. Most of all, Adam himself. <3

THANK YOU SNL AND ADAM FOR ANOTHER LIFE-HIGHLIGHT WEEKEND! <3

#Adam Driver #Saturday Night Live #SNL #driverdaily

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garbagewhump · 4 years

Text

The challenge run by @yuckwhump

A preemptive warning about this series. It is by no means political nor a satirization. It is not meant to make any statement. The views and representation of any given character do not necessarily reflect the views of the author, nor do I condone the aggressive, vile behavior exhibited. Normally I wouldn’t bother saying this, but because of the terminology and victim selection used by the whumpers and the fact similar ideology exists — though less radical — I feel the need for clarification to avoid any miscommunication.

[first] [next]

Live Feed - Thirst

Warnings specific to this chapter: humiliation, brief description of gory mental image, blood.

Dale desperately wanted to brush his teeth.

His tongue clung to the roof of his mouth, glued there by slime. Even his teeth felt fuzzy and rancid. He kept reminding himself not to lick his split and oozing lips. The brief respite wasn’t worth the increased dehydration as the moisture evaporated. His entire throat felt coated in sandpaper, every hard fought swallow of saliva catching the whole way down

And, God, his head. During the summertime growing up he used to suck on frozen grapes, grateful for the chill in his mouth and the burst of tart liquid on his tongue. Right now, his head felt like a grape about to give way, like any minute it would split open and spill his brains out all over the floor.

His arms had been cuffed behind him since the start and every so often his back and shoulders would spasm, protesting the immobilization, but mostly they had gone numb. What a small mercy. He initially occasionally wondered perhaps if that was stress or the dehydration, but eventually decided it was both. Both accounted for the pain he was in.

He’d long since given up on begging for water. A couple days ago, maybe. Time meant nothing here, even if he had a way of marking the passage. The room was probably an unfinished basement of some sort, and lacking entirely in windows or a clock. And all begging did was set off his captor’s...

Dale very much did not want to call it a sense of humor. It was far too twisted for that, but his captor certainly amused himself.

Speak of the devil himself.

“You’re finally awake!” he chirped, as always far too cheery. Most unnervingly, he had one of his arms held behind his back. What was his game here? What was his plan?

A shiver traveled along his twitching back and nestled behind the ever worsening headache.

How in the world had this obviously physically fit 20-some-odd managed to get the drop on him, an out of shape middle aged man?

Oh. That’s how.

God, his head ached. Could heads explode? When the sadistic brat knelt down to his level, Dale fought an instinctual flinch.

He wasn’t machismo poisoned enough to deny he wasn’t afraid. But there was enough there that he balked at the very thought and forced a facade of nonchalance. Keeping his spine straight hurt more, but it was worth it for a shred of dignity.

“So, after a couple days to stew it over...” He idly manhandled Dale’s face with one hand, turning it this way and that. “Holy shit, you’re a dusty old fart. Look at you.”

If he still had saliva to spare, he’d spit right in his face.

“Anyway, I got some yummy water for sale for my thirsty little pet boomer.”

For sale? That was what this was about, money? “Don’t got my card,” he rasped. He’d been aiming for a threatening growl and ended up far left field of that. “I can pay you though, if you let me.”

The kid giggled at him. “Shit, you’re a riot. I accept Venmo here in the 21st century. So you don’t have to, like, fax over the bills or request a money order or whatever outdated shit you were planning.”

Dale screwed his eyes shut. They burned and ached but he found minuscule comfort there. His tormentor released his grip on his jaw and stepped back.

Something metal clattered to the ground. He jumped and winced as pain shot up his spine.

“Now that got your attention!” The man sneered and nudged an empty dog bowl toward him.

Not daring to breathe, Dale very carefully kept his gaze on the other man rather than the bowl or the tempting, dewy-sided bottle of water in his hand. The desire that ran through him was like deep throating a hot poker all the same.

“Admit that you fucked the environment,” he ordered.

Wait. What. “What?”

“Did I fucking stutter?”

Dale tried shifting positions, to alleviate the pressure on his ankles, rather than answer him.

The man continued anyway. “Your generation fucked housing, the economy, the environment, and you have the fucking gall to blame my generation for destroying industries.” He grabbed Dale’s face before he could jerk away. “Isn’t that just a little fucked up?”

He needed that water. Now that it was within reach, every breath burned and scratched up and down his throat, and if that’s all that water cost? “We messed up,” he grunted. Each word tore up his throat and stumbled over his sandpaper tongue.

Slowly, too damn slowly, the other man started to untwist the cap. “Well? Go on.”

“We’re bigoted, obstinate, ignorant.” Very carefully preserving his pride, he did not focus on the fact his voice kept cracking without any liquid to soothe his throat. “We are incumbent in lucrative positions and resist turnover and change.”

Another turn.

“Our college education cost a fraction of yours.”

Another.

“Our McMansions were bought low and sell high.”

“Gosh,” he gasped, “this old technology is so hard for me to understand! This might take a while. I can’t seem to find where to click.”

He grit his jaw before continuing, “We demand respect from everyone.”

Yet again. He wasn’t even gripping the cap at this point.

“We ignore the opinions of those younger due to inflated pride culminated over years.”

The younger man smirked, luxuriating in his degradation. “And what are you?” he asked.

“What?”

“Keep up, Dale! You are a boomer.”

He wasn’t. Not technically. He wasn’t about to correct him though. “I’m a boomer,” Dale agreed. At this point he would agree to nearly anything for that water, and he just hoped and prayed the other man hadn’t noticed his desperation.

“There!” His captor finally snapped the seal on the water. Dale had never heard a more beautiful sound. “Boomer can have little a water....”

His gaze locked on the water, he carefully watched every drop pour into that demeaning dog bowl. His whole body burned with the anticipation now that it was so close at hand.

“As a treat.”

All sixteen ounces of water in that bowl. If he had the hydration left in his body, he would probably have started to salivate by now. Relief was so close. All he needed was the binds on his wrists released and he could gulp down that sweet, sweet water.

The menace smiled at him and chef kissed like it was a decadent meal, not life giving liquid. He said, “Bone app the teeth.”

What the what? Forget it, he was too thirsty to care about dignity, let alone whatever nonsense this freak was spewing. Shoving his face into the bowl, he sucked up water, drenching his split lips in the moisture.

Cool, sweet relief flowed over that arid, stinking abscess that had replaced his mouth. Chill water settled in his hollow stomach, reminding him he hadn’t been fed either, but sweet, sweet relief was more pressing

The water level began to lower as he drank, but he just shoved his face deeper into the bowl. The cold metal was almost pleasant, chill along his brow.

“Let me help you there,” was all the warning he got.

The pain exploded in the back of his skull, neck, face. Blood tinged the water. Salt burned his lips and his nose felt like a tennis ball was crammed behind it. His eyes stung and watered.

Dale bucked and twisted and jerked and threw himself away from the other man, out from under his boot, wrists twinging painfully as he fell on them. Blood continued to ooze down his lips.

His captor’s deranged laughter echoed in his ears. “I’ll let you stew a little longer,” he said as he left.

When the door clicked shut and locked, when he heard the footsteps fade away and leave him in silence, he turned his head away and ignored the water dripping down his face. It was just water, anyway.

#whump #live feed series #tw humiliation #dehydration #tw blood #crying #young whumper #lf dale gibson #lf jaden pierce

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shreddedparchment · 5 years

Text

Stinky Stake Out

06/12/2019

for @zoayyy

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Word Count: 2,936

1K Celebration Masterpost Warnings: Language, violence, farts

A/N: So this is another drabble submission from back when I did my 1K celebration. I am SO sorry that it is taking me so long to get these out. I am shit at doing requests which is why they are closed!! I have now hit 3K followers and all of you are so amazing and wonderful and I hope you enjoy this and I’m so sorry that I’m not a fun blog doing events and challenges and all that good stuff. I had fun writing this new, real, and cute side to Bucky and the reader. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work. xoxo

Another mission. Another night with the idiot. Another string of hours in an enclosed space. A car.

Shiny where the paint isn’t peeling. Inconspicuous black. The floor littered with used coffee cups and burrito wrappers that crackle beneath your feet as you lift your right one up to rest on the seat.

Your knee is starting to ache after sitting for so many hours.

The air is stale in the old unmarked POS that Tony had found for you and your partner.

It wreaks of sharp new leather and sweat, with the faintest tang of ozone. It’s bitter but you’re used to it after two days spent sitting outside the supposed arms smuggler's dilapidated pawn shop. A front to throw the casual passerby off.

Your partner moves beside you, leaning towards you. He stares at you with steel blue eyes, the sparkle of amusement filling them with bright blue icicles.

It’s pretty…but you know that look and it doesn’t bode well.

He smirks at you, the dark curtain of his long roasted chestnut hair framed around his unshaven face.

“What?” You ask, suspicious and leaning back and away from him.

He smiles wider, exposing beautiful pearly whites.

Then it hits you. More ozone. Slightly bitter. Heady and penetrating.

“Awe, Bucky!” You reach over and shove him away hard then lift your foot and press it into his black t-shirt covered chest to push him flat against the rusted metal door.

He laughs, easy, chuckling as the smell permeates the small space. His laugh makes your chest warm, but you ignore that as best you can.

As you hold him away from you, you lower your window and gasp in the slightly marginally fresher air.

It’s sour with the stink of garbage from the nearby dumpster but for right now, it’s better than the smell of Bucky’s fart.

He’s still laughing, his metal hand wrapped around the top of your bare foot.

What?! Two days in a car getting all hot and sweaty with a huge super soldier who could really use a bath? You’re not going to wear your shoes the entire time.

Also, not as fun as it sounds.

“Oh, come on.” Bucky teases. “Your farts stink way more than mine do.”

“They do not!” You protest, leaning back into the car while you shut the window.

“They so do.” He chuckles.

“No, they don’t, Bucky!” You kick his chest and he laughs harder.

“It’s a proven fact. Women’s farts are much stinkier than men’s.” He throws out.

“Shut up. You just made that up.” You laugh, taking your leg back.

You’re highly aware of the way Bucky’s fingers linger against your skin as you pull your foot back and begin to pull your shoes back on, kicking cups and bags out of your way.

“I didn’t. It’s science.” Bucky fights.

He reaches over and pokes your side, lightly pinching the skin of your underarm playfully.

“Come on. Let one rip. We’ll do a smell test.” He urges.

You laugh again, louder and reach over to smack his stomach as he adjusts in his seat to sit facing forward while he continues to poke your side.

“Oh, my God, stop it. I’m not going to fart.” You struggle to keep the laughter buried and it bubbles up in half serious, half amused chuckles.

“What? Come on! Just give me one toot. Your farts are cute anyway.” He teases, laughing as he reaches out to poke your stomach again.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Bucky. No!” You laugh, throwing your head back as you chortle and smack his hand away.

He shrinks away from you, skillfully avoiding your hit.

“I’ll just ask Bruce to prove it once we get back to the compound.”

“You are not going to talk to Bruce about my farts. I’ll kill you.” You warn.

“Empty threat.” He brags. “You’ll see. I just gotta go get you some more of these burritos.”

He picks up an empty bag from the floor and holds it up. The movement draws your eye upwards and are distracted by the sturdy form of a man in a not so subtle red bomber, hands shoved into deep gray track pants and what looks like bright yellow running shoes.

“What the hell? I think we’ve got our first hit, Buck.” You shift forward, reaching onto the dash to the small hidden glass panel and press your finger to the display. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. pull up the profiles on known associates of the Green Murder.”

“There are twenty-seven high profile criminals associated with the Green Murder criminal organization.” The accented voice says.

The come up as small cards on the display and you begin to quickly cycle through them, looking for the man currently walking down the sidewalk towards your car and the launderette.

Beside you, Bucky has also shifted forward, his eyes narrowed as he stares at the stranger.

“No one’s been down this way in almost two days. This isn’t a coincidence.” Bucky whispers.

“He can’t hear us, Buck. Soundproof, remember?” You hit the glass of the windshield and it thuds at you dully as the sound is absorbed.

“Anything?” Bucky asks, looking around the launderette and its surrounding buildings. Old restaurants and apartment buildings, falling apart from neglect.

“No.” You sigh. “Maybe he’s just a-wait, here. Nolan Burke. Goes by Boomer. Irish immigrant. First generation. Seems he popped up when the arms game started up in this part of the city again. That’s a weird nickname.”

“Burke?” Bucky repeats, furrowed brow. “Doesn’t ring a bell. How high up on the totem pole is he?”

“Woah, that’s the Crow King’s lieutenant. We get him, we get our foot in the door.” You look over at Bucky who’s watching as Nolan Burke moves to the launderette and knocks four times, slightly patterned in a quick tap-tap, tap, tap.

Your gaze follows his and you both watch as he disappears into the arms den.

“What now? We could wait it out. Catch him when he gets out but then we’d have nothing to hold him on.”

“We need to catch him. They’re pulling a Toomes and we can’t let this go on much longer. Those weapons are starting to hit close to home.” Bucky nods, the clear indication of an idea forming in his head.

“Well?” You probe.

“I’m just gonna go knock on the door. Get inside. I’ll figure it out from there.” He explains. The revelation of his brilliant plan falls flat, and he looks over to meet your unimpressed gaze.

“That is the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever fucking heard…” You continue to stare at him as his lips curve upwards into a small, knowing smile. “…do it.”

He huffs a laugh and shoves his door open. You hurry out too, moving around the car to stop beside him.

Both of you stretch, twisting your back and cracking knuckles and necks, grateful to be out of the car. He’s already pulling on his tac vest and sheathing a knife on his hip.

“I’ll head on around the back and meet you inside.” You twist your neck one final time then reach out to grab hold of the front shoulder straps of his armor. “Don’t do anything stupid, Bucky.”

“You mean more than usual?” He smirks at you, insulting himself for you.

You grin, give him a shake, then let him go before moving to the trunk. “Yeah, more than usual.”

He begins to back away from you as you pop the trunk and attach the extra holsters you’d brought before transferring your guns into their spots. He holds his arms out, gesturing at his large rock-like body.

“Can’t make any promises.” He whisper-shouts at you.

You shut the trunk and then duck as you watch him knock on the wooden door, hand shoved in between the rusting black security bars.

Pulling your gun, you cock it, then hold it ready should the need to fire come immediately.

“Yeah?” Says a gruff voice, which you pick up through Bucky’s earpiece in your own.

“Boomer’s expecting me.” Bucky says with steel confidence that even you believe him.

There’s a sound of shifting wood and Bucky turns towards you to give you a stupid goofy grin before he straightens his face, just in time as the security door is opened for him and he walks in out of sight.

Your heart gives a painful lurch. Worry takes over for one terrifying second as you imagine that Bucky might never walk out that door again.

The intensity of the grievance startles you. You reach up with your left hand to massage the spot at the center of your chest and once you hear the security door groan closed you shove that fear aside and make your way into the alley beside the building.

“Bucky, what do you see?” You whisper, moving along the grimy mud brown brick of the alley.

No response.

“Bucky?” You repeat, that same weight of worry falling on you again.

“Bucky can you hear me?”

Still nothing.

“Fuck.” You sigh and sidle up to the heavy white door.

It takes you only a few seconds to pick the lock and you slide in, soundless. The back rooms are empty, dark, and rank with the smell of mold.

This place must have actually been a laundromat at some point because it smells like one, if it had been left to rot.

You allow your feet to carry you through quickly, shifting between old shelving and from one door through to another and another until you see the faint outline of a lit-up doorway.

The light is white-blue, fluorescent and sharp, reflecting up from a dingy white, green, and blue tiled floor.

The closer you get to this swinging doorway through which light is seeping through, the more you can hear a faint grunting and shuffling as if someone were struggling.

With your gun held ready, hands gripped tight and secure, trained in accurate rapid-fire, you peek through the dirty circular window in the old heavy plastic swinging door.

You’re not sure what you’re seeing at first but then as he turns towards you, hand shoved down the front of his pants, you can clearly see Bucky frantically pulling and tugging. His grunting and groaning makes your mind reel and though you know he can’t possibly be doing what it looks like he’s doing, it’s still what your mind shoots to.

You shove the door open and move to stop it as it swings back towards you. Bucky stops jumping around but stares at you with wide eyes.

“Is right now really the best time to be touching yourself?!” You gasp, astounded but there must be more to what is happening than what you’re seeing.

“I know why they call him Boomer.” Bucky explains, loud, not worried about being silent as he fiddles with his pants some more.

“What the hell are you doing?” You demand, moving towards him.

“No!” He shouts at you and shifts away from you. “Stay away from me. The bastard tied a grenade to front of my pants, on the inside. It’s stuck against my zipper and I can’t get it out.”

“Is the pin still in?” You ask, moving towards him again.

“Yes, stay back! If I accidentally pull it, I don’t want you anywhere near me.” He orders.

“Will you stop shouting?” You gasp, looking around frantically for a threat.

“They’re gone. They left me with their parting gift and took off out the front. You don’t have to worry about being overheard.” He’s so focused on his pants that he doesn’t notice how much closer you’ve gotten.

Watching him struggle is exasperating. If they really already got away, then there’s no sense in sticking around.

“Hurry up, Buck.” You sigh.

“I’m trying.” He argues, giving you a pleading look. “It’s stuck.”

“Ugh, move.” You grunt and pull his hand out of his pants then plunge your own in.

“Woah, uh…” He clears his throat and walks back until he hits an old broken washer. His hands grip the edge and he tries to lean away from you as you delve in the front of his pants.

You try not to think about what you feel. He’s wearing underwear so that’s good, but underwear can only do so much. You feel soft bits, hot through the cloth of his briefs, a small twitch.

You smirk, maybe it’s time for some payback for all that fart teasing?

“Is that a grenade in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” You ask him, and he laughs but you also feel him stiffen and force yourself to concentrate on anything but what’s in his pants. “Ooh, okay. I feel it.”

“What?!” He asks, voice cracking as it rises in pitch.

“The grenade, soldier. Calm down.” You chuckle.

“Can you get it out?” He asks.

“How the hell did he tie this on your zipper?” You ask, confused by the idea.

You give him an apologetic smile before holstering your gun and plunging your other hand in. “Sorry, Buck. I need both hands.”

He gasps and nearly pulls away from you but then stops, probably thinking about the grenade exploding if you accidentally pull the pin.

You look down into his pants, trying hard to get a look at the zipper and what you feel is the grenade pin itself. The attempt makes you shove the top of your head against the hard muscles of Bucky’s stomach. He curls around you, trying to make room for you to see.

“Would you stop blocking the light?” You demand.

“I’m sorry, this is a weird angle to be in.” He argues.

“This isn’t working. Take your pants off.”

“I am not taking my pants off.” Bucky fights.

“Bucky, I’ve seen you in your underwear before. Just take them off. I can’t get the pin loose with you wearing them.” You stand up straight, hands still buried in the front of his pants, and beg him with your eyes to be reasonable.

“Have you looked around?” He demands. “I could get tetanus in here.”

“You’re a Super Soldier, dumbass! Your system won’t let you get sick like that.”

“No.” He frowns.

“Ugh, fine but the only other option is to pull the grenade away from the pin.” You explain.

“You can’t do that. What’ll you do with it once you pull it off?” He worries.

“Throw it.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know, Bucky but we can’t leave it here, in your pants. If we don’t do this soon, it increases the chances of you accidentally pulling it.” You sigh.

“No.” He says, with stern finality, which only eggs you on harder.

“Fine.” You growl then pull it anyway.

“No!” Bucky shouts, but it’s already out of his pants.

You race towards the swinging doorway and push it open and fling the grenade into the back rooms.

You hear the heavy thud as it falls and rolls along the tiled floor. You turn, meaning to run and tackle Bucky to the ground as the rolling sound moves closer and closer back towards the swinging door but bump hard into Bucky’s chest.

You wrap your arms around him, protecting him your only priority as you ready for the blast.

Strong arms, cold and hot, embrace you and he falls back immediately as the explosion on the other side of the door shakes the building. Dust falls around you, the tile floor cracks beneath you.

“You okay?” Bucky asks, pushing you up so that you sit back onto the cracked tile floor.

“Yeah.” You reply, shouting because your ears are slightly ringing from the boom. You reach up to press your palms to your ears, mouth opened wide as you attempt to make them pop. “You?”

“I’m fine.” He says, voice thick, as if spoken through a wall even though he too is shouting.

“See? It’s always best if you just do what I ask.” Smiling, you look up at the ceiling.

“Yeah, yeah. You got anymore bright ideas, sugar? Or can we get back to the compound and get Bruce started on that farting research?”

You’re not sure if it’s the adrenaline of almost having blown off Bucky’s dick, or nearly collapsing a building around you, or maybe it’s just time, but you use the momentum of the conversation and let it out.

“Every time you speak I either wanna kiss you or throttle you.” Your hands are numb.

It feels like you’ve missed a step on a staircase and your stomach has suddenly bottomed out. Your heart is pounding and as Bucky continues to stare at you, saying nothing, those big blue eyes unblinking, you feel the adrenaline falter and your confidence wane.

Shit. Why had you gone and said it? Maybe you can still take it back?

“I mean…that’s not what I meant.” You’re still shouting, your ears thick, like fog. You can’t hear. “I mean-I…You drive me nuts. I just meant that-”

He scoots closer, then reaches up to hook his metal hand behind your neck and pull you towards him until his lips are on yours.

It’s a slow, smooth motion, as his lips open around yours and the soft gentle tip of his tongue searches for purchase.

You give him what he wants because it’s what you want too, and you let him in. He leads your head to tilt, moving his in the opposite direction, and you let him deepen the kiss. Eyes shut and ears plugged, you kiss Bucky for the first time in a crumbling laundromat, as the dust from his crotch grenade settles.

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