#this point but are denying that's what those actually are. and they've known each other for around 8 months sooo there's a lot of feelings
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a dangerous thing.
pairing: diana x albert wesker
words: 22.8k
warnings: nsfw, body image, sexual dysfunction
“Take them off,” she whispered, motioning towards his sunglasses. “I want to see you.”
Wesker sighed, and despite the little voice in his head telling him not to entertain her like last time, he reached up and took his glasses off, nonetheless. Folding the temples slowly over one another, he made sure not to touch the lenses and leave any smudges – no doubt amusing her with how careful he was being with them – before he placed them down on the table. When he looked back up at her, he watched how her eyes were trained on his hands until they flitted up to meet his own, and the small smile that deepened the indents on her cheeks stirred that irritating sensation behind his sternum.
“Your fascination with my eyes is unnerving,” he said without thinking too much on the implications of such a statement, and immediately regretted it afterwards.
Diana chuckled, standing up straight as she stepped even closer into his space, the jasmine in her perfume seeming more potent than usual as it overwhelmed his senses; that familiar, almost comforting scent reminded him of the first time they had ever stood this close.
She searched his eyes for further clarification as her smile turned more teasing than sweet, and she lifted a hand to absent-mindedly walk her fingers up his chest. “Did you just admit that I unnerve you?”
[read on ao3]
#leah gets a burst of courage to post this#setting: april 1996. a few weeks after the 'offering the other your coat' prompt and the night before the 'running your finger down their#spine' one. // anyways this is the ridiculously long fic i keep referring to so like if you ever want context here you go. i don't expect#anyone to read this and that's all good cause it's so long lmao i'm just chucking it on here cause i felt like having it in their series on#ao3 just so like if people ever wanted to like idk skim through it for reference to what i mean sometimes or something like that idk what#i'm saying it's just there if you ever wanted to read it heheh. timeline wise they have been going on dates for four and a bit months at#this point but are denying that's what those actually are. and they've known each other for around 8 months sooo there's a lot of feelings#going on but they are absolute clowns#oc: diana#pair: ewskers#writing.
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hi cate! this is my first ask sooo i’m nervous to send this tee hee but i love your acc and i’ve got a front row seat on the hot wife wagon 🤪 and let me tell you cate i have thoughts. lots of them.
but what do you think about dr. hot wife stitching up spencer in the ER after a case? like she’s doting on him and bringing him jello and being extra gentle and stuff. and if the team doesn’t know and sees them they’re like 👀👀 “where’d she learn those bedside manners??” “can i get some stitches too?” ok that’s all. i love you and what you do have a great one!! 💖
oh i love this so much and don't be nervous, i love hearing what you think
"What happened?" She asks, walking into the crowded room. Spencer's sitting on the edge of the bed, Morgan's sitting on the chair and Hotch is standing. "I'm Doctor L/n." She introduces herself to them as an afterthought.
Spencer smiles at her voice, pointing to the cut on his forehead. "Someone tried to mess up my pretty face."
She laughs as she turns away to get some gloves. "Well, they didn't succeed." She assures him. "I am going to have to stitch it up, though, so keep your head still."
She grabs what she needs to stitch the sutures into his open wound, standing in between his legs in a way that she wouldn't with any other patient. Spencer, on the other hand, acts professionally and keeps his hands on his thighs.
"So what actually happened?" She asks instead of waiting until they get home.
"I got hit in the back of the head by an unsub and fell into a glass mirror." Spencer answers.
Y/n's eyes widen, but she's happy he's there and only slightly hurt. Being thrown into a mirror could do a lot worse. "Sounds like 7 years of bad luck to me." She says jokingly.
"I don't know." He disagrees. "I think I'm pretty lucky, but I can try it out if it'll help with your assessment."
"Mm, okay." She agrees, carefully working on his face.
"Do you have a boyfriend?" He asks.
Morgan and Hotch's eyes snap to each other, exchanging odd looks as they both silently wonder whether or not Spencer has a concussion because he has never been that flirty. In all the years they've known him, a question like that or one with those implications has never come out of his mouth.
"I'm married, actually." She answers.
"So I'm going to have to wait out my 7 years of bad luck before asking you out?" He wonders with a pout.
Morgan holds a hand over his open mouth, and Hotch starts worrying they're about to have to deal with a sexual harassment lawsuit.
But she laughs, and not like she's trying to politely shut him down. "I don't know. I'm kind of fond of him."
"I'm going to go see if the rest of the team is here." Morgan awkwardly says, getting out of his chair and leaving the three of them in the room.
"Okay, I think you're good." She says, finishing off the tidy stitch. "Did they check you for a concussion?"
Hotch takes his chance to defend Spencer before he says something unusually stupid. "No, he could have one- he probably has one. He's not usually like this."
She nods, taking off her gloves. "Any memory loss, nausea, unconsciousness, confusion, headaches?" She lists to both of them.
"None of that." Spencer denies. "But I did want to ask if I could take you out on a date."
"Yes, lots of behavioral change," Hotch answers for him.
Y/n looks sternly at her husband. "I won't hesitate to send you for a CT scan." She threatens although she knows he's teasing her because his eidetic memory is working perfectly. It also hilarious to see him freaking his boss out.
"Please, if you're going to come with me." He flirts.
She shakes her head with a little smile, pulling away from him. "Sorry, I've got other patients to see. Do you need anything else?"
He stops short of asking for a kiss. "Just some jello, please."
"Because you used your manners, I'll bring you two." She agrees before leaving the room.
"You don't need jello for one stitch and a few bruises," Hotch tells him once he's sure she's out of earshot.
Spencer shakes his head. "I mean, I should at least stay to say goodbye."
Morgan catches everyone else up as they walk through the hospital and towards Spencer's room. "He was flirting with her. Like actively hitting on her, trying to get her to go out with him."
"We've got to see this." JJ agrees, nods coming from everyone else.
"Wait." Morgan stops them, gesturing to Y/n, who's talking to a nurse. "Her."
They look more surprised then than they did when Morgan informed them of Spencer's odd behavior. "She was flirting with Reid?" Rossi asks in disbelief.
"I'm going to go check myself in," Emily declares, earning a chuckle from the rest of them.
They watch as she walks toward Spencer's room with jello cups. "He's not even getting admitted," JJ says, shaking her head in disbelief. "She's definitely into him."
"Go and watch them flirt. It's disgusting." Morgan says, and the irony is not lost on any of them.
She's spoon-feeding him the jello when they walk into the room like he's got broken hands. "Hey, guys, this is Doctor L/n." Spencer introduces them.
"And I'm guessing she doesn't treat all of her patients like this," Hotch mutters loud enough to have them all laughing.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fandom#criminal minds#spencer reid blurb
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Honored One Shot No. 1 - @getosbigballsack
„Jealous boyfriend Gojo”
Summary: You were waiting for your boyfriend to get out of the shower while you were talking to his best friend. Your boyfriend is jealous. Give him your attention.
Tags: Spicy Fluff
"Where is Toru?" You asked as you entered his apartment.
You saw Suguru sitting on the couch with a phone in his hand. And you were the one who asked that question to him.
You put your shoes down by the door and walked into the open living room.
"In the bathroom." His friend found out, leaving the screen of his phone for a moment to look at you. "He's probably taking a shower."
You walked closer to him and suddenly sat next to him on the large couch.
You've always liked the fact that even though you're a little bit older than them, sometimes you feel so much lower because of them.
They are taller than you, they have different muscle mass.
For as long as you can remember, actually as long as you've known them, they've been able to intimidate you very thoroughly.
Their smiles that could melt your heart. It was so cute.
You loved those smiles.
They were your friends until at some point Satoru became your boyfriend.
And the barriers between you broke even faster than you would expect from friends.
He, even a month before you were a couple, started cuddling you, taking you to use you as a comfortable pillow.
His head often landed on your thighs when you sat down.
As you lay on your stomach, he rested his head on your back. And when you were a couple, he used your butt as a pillow for his head.
And also on your chest when you became a couple and you were lying on your back. Just like you were his pillow and you could stroke his head when he fell asleep on you, not letting you get up. He was also a pillow for you. You lay on his chest whenever you wanted. You leaned against him, using every part of his body as a pillow.
However, you had to be extra careful about lying on his thighs because the slightest extra touch he might take was a suggestion.
This has not happened to you once.
However, you didn't just use him as a pillow.
Your friend is also a pretty good pillow when you can't lie on top of your boyfriend.
Besides, Toru never resented it because he knew you were Suguru's friend. He knew that you were definitely his girlfriend, and there was no reason for him to be jealous.
"When will he come?"
"Probably soon. Especially if he heard your voice." he said as he pushed the phone away. "Do you want something to drink?"
"I'll wait for him, thanks."
It was the kind of awkward silence that everyone disliked.
Nobody wanted to start a conversation. Either way, none of you knew what you were supposed to talk about.
"Long time no see." you said calmly.
It would be nice to talk to him now that you're sitting next to each other.
But it's so weird! Your boyfriend's best friend is so intimidating! His smile is always so nice.
Even if your boyfriend is more charming, you can't say his friend doesn't make you feel warm. Especially on the cheeks.
But only Satoru can influence you that much. His smile, his behavior. His movements. His eyes.
In making you blush more ways to Satoru. Much more. Because as your boyfriend, he saw so much more than most...
Even if he's a little younger than you. You feel like you're a teenager with him. A little teenage girl who sees her crush looking at her.
Suguru didn't have that intensity and attack.
Satoru had. And no one denied it.
Your boyfriend has such an outspoken demeanor especially around you that you would never have thought you'd keep your peace of mind.
A few words from his mouth too much can mess up your mind.
And when you see his friend's smile now, you feel warm.
Suguru is such a true friend. He is close to you as well as close to Satoru.
The only regret is that they both with their nice smiles just make your heart melt.
Your boyfriend is your boyfriend. And you love him as he is.
Even if at the moment you were talking to Suguru, he was standing behind the bathroom door listening to you.
Was he jealous of you hanging out with his friend? He was. And very much.
That was his nature.
Even if he knew you were his girlfriend, he couldn't help but want your attention for himself.
Like a little kid begging for attention. However, he won't stamp his foot or cry for your attention.
He will touch you or do anything to get your attention. Suddenly, he will kiss you or hold you close to him.
And Suguru once said that he looked like a child with his scowling face. A big, two-meter baby...
But you love the big baby he is sometimes.
Like a ninja, he opened the bathroom door very gently.
The floor is wet from the water running off his body.
Wet footprints on the floor.
With one hand he held a towel tied around his waist, and with the other hand brushed wet hair from his face.
He was jumping out of the shower when he heard your voice.
And then his brow furrowed slightly as he heard how nice you were talking to Suguru.
You are friends. But Suguru is a guy! Satoru was jealous that you were talking to Geto and not to him - your boyfriend!
If he wasn't your boyfriend, Suguru would probably be your boyfriend!
He walked down the corridor calmly and quietly.
And when he saw you sitting next to his friend and smiling.
He was even more jealous...
He wanted to be next to you.
He didn't mind that you were friends.
But he wanted your little hands to stroke his body...
It was a normal desire.
As your boyfriend, he wanted your hands on his body. Just to hug him.
Because your body fits perfectly over his shoulders. He can hold you forever.
Because you're so cute when you're next to him.
That sometimes it looks so innocent.
His jealousy is innocent?
Jokes.
His jealousy is sometimes childish. It's not innocent. It's sweet sometimes.
And sometimes scary because he will be able to lay on top of you as punishment for you. And then you won't come out from under this body until he wants to let you out.
It's childish and cute. But sometimes it's different.
Following you, always being with you.
You have nothing to be jealous of. Well, sometimes when someone picks him up. However, he is with you. And nothing will happen, right?
So he expects the same.
But he is much more jealous than you!
You were talking to Suguru, and suddenly you felt something pulling you from the couch.
When you turned your head, you saw your boyfriend standing next to you, who was pulling your hand to get you up.
You know that facial expression.
Offended child...
It means a child who pretends to be offended and expects attention to make up for it.
"Toru?" you nodded with a smile.
"Aren't you going to say hello to me?" He asked, tilting his head slightly, and holding your whole hand in his.
"I came recently. Hello." You said and cuddled up to him, even though your cheeks burned a little.
You snuggled against his bare, wet chest.
But what else were you supposed to do when he loved it when you hugged him to say hello?
If you had said hello differently, he would have resented it because he loves it when you cuddle and kiss him.
Even if you felt his wet muscles against your cheek...
He then looked at his friend with slightly closed eyes.
Before you could see it, he looked at you again.
With one hand still on the towel that would surely fall off if he took it off, he suddenly crouched down beside you.
"Satoru? What are you doing?"
Without answering, he put his shoulder to your hips, keeping his right hand on your back, he pulled you slightly to bend over. Then he started to stand up, holding you on his shoulder.
And when he was fully up, you were slung over his body.
Your legs wiggled for a moment until he wrapped his arm around your hips as you lay there.
You felt your clothes get wet from his skin and his wet hair.
"S'toru–" You moaned as you felt his cheek rest against your hip.
"You're wetting the floor." Suguru said as he got up from the couch.
At least you think so because you heard footsteps and Satoru didn't move.
"It's my floor. I can do whatever I want." He replied with his cheek still on your hip.
Suddenly he started walking towards the bedroom.
With a red face, you were turned towards the dark haired man, and you looked at him questioningly.
He chuckled softly and shook his head to the side.
"You're jealous again, aren't you?" he asked with a small smile.
Basically, he's used to his friend acting like this sometimes.
Your boyfriend has stopped.
"Toru, I talked to Suguru for a while. We are friends. You're my boyfriend." You smiled nervously before adding, more quietly, "And why are you jealous again?"
He turned sideways to his friend.
He smiled with furrowed brows.
"This is my girl."
His smile was as strange as it was sweet.
Jealous Satoru smiling... Hmm... Pissed off Satoru smiling...
"I know she's your girlfriend. I'll leave if you're going to fuc-" He said with the same smile, but you cut him off.
"Are you on his side? I'm the one currently being held on his arm!" You said still blushing. "Ow!"
You moaned as his teeth bit into your thigh before he buried his face in the softness of your body.
"This is my girlfriend. I do what I want." He laughed before ignoring his friend and entering the bedroom.
He closed the door with his foot and then you felt both of his hands grab your waist to throw you onto the bed.
His larger body immediately loomed over yours, blocking your view of the ceiling.
You saw how little droplets flowed from his hair.
"Toru–."
"You could have joined me in the shower instead of sitting with him." He said with a smile, but you could see the vein on his forehead.
"You're wet..." You mumbled, feeling drops of water trickle down your body from him.
Then you noticed that the towel was on the floor. You looked down slightly to see his skin, no material.
You quickly turned your head away from looking at it.
"Would you rather look at someone else? I'm your boyfriend, baby~."
"Cover up..." you said keeping your hands on his shoulders.
"What if I say no?" he whispered suddenly in your ear, and reached for your lap.
He bent your legs to rest on his hips.
He kissed your cheek.
"What if I prefer to make it clear that my girlfriend is mine?" His breath came down to your neck.
His hands held your sides. His smile didn't diminish.
"What if I want to hold my girlfriend, and show everything under my fingers is mine? Your body under my fingers~." his mouth came close to yours, and suddenly he pressed his lips to your lower lip.
He licked his lips, thus licking your lip.
"My beloved girlfriend has a boyfriend. And I am him. So why should I cover myself when I can make use of the fact that I'm already naked at any time?"
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk x you#gojo satoru#gojo x y/n#gojo x reader#jujustu kaisen#jjk x reader#gojo#gojo x reader fluff#honored ones event
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Why do you think Imogen/Laudna is not comparable to Caleb/Veth? At the start of C3, I thought they were similar and thought it was a strange how much Imogen/Laudna was being held up as the pinnacle of relationships in comparison to the hate/minimization that Caleb/Veth got. But I rewatched C2E27 and remembered how honestly they talked through their disagreement, which was way different from Imogen/Laudna's C3E27 reconciliation after the gnarlrock drama. What are your thoughts about it?
(got another anon on this as well as I was writing this up, so other anon, this is also for you!)
That's exactly the same moment I was thinking of! Veth and Caleb are able to disagree with each other in a way Imogen and Laudna aren't. Honestly, even from earlier, they're able to ask things of each other - Caleb outright asks Nott if she'll run away with him, alone, away from the group, if his reveal to Beau goes badly. Nott, even when half the party is missing, in the wake of Molly's death, when all she has is Beau (who she's known for a month and a half) and two allies she's known for a couple of days at most, is able to say "Wrong." to Caleb about something as important, but also as unnecessary as admitting that he cares about the other party members as friends, not just useful alliances. And that's the other thing - Nott is actively encouraging Caleb to make other connections and embracing her own new friendships, and she's willing to risk Caleb being mad with her - which for her, means risking her chance to get back her own body and life - to do it. And this is after less than a year of knowing him.
Laudna can't even say "will you promise not to side with the person who murdered me," let alone point out that Otohan also murdered Fearne, Orym, Eshteross, and Orym's husband and father-in law or that Ludinus casually destroyed Kadija's mind. She can't say this to someone she's lived and traveled with for two years, when the other five party members would all agree with her and stand by her. There's no trust. You know the phrase "if you love someone, let them go?" Laudna's too terrified to let go, and Veth isn't.
(I should note - I like Caleb and Veth's dynamic a lot but I never shipped them; but I also will defend them against anyone who denies that there were feelings, or who tries to pretend that Veth's statement that Caleb was like a son to her overrides her later statements about having a crush, or, you know, the fact that they aren't actually related so who the fuck cares. I mean, Vex and Keyleth canonically tell each other they consider each other sisters and that never stopped anyone. So this does come from a place of not shipping either of these pairs.)
So this is why "Imogen and Laudna were never given choices" statement is so hollow and meaningless. Because they're rendering themselves powerless and stripping themselves of all choices. They can't draw boundaries. (For what it's worth, Campaign 1's codependent pair, the twins, are able to draw boundaries without issue; Vax tells Vex to lay off Keyleth quite explicitly despite having only recently agonized over being separated from her for a few days). They can't choose themselves. They can't challenge each other or encourage each other's growth or ask something so important and yet so small as being honest with one's self. They're just so stuck in this holding pattern, even after they've grown in power and seen the possibility of losing each other, whereas Caleb and Veth's relationship constantly changes as they support and challenge each other and ask things of each other. You know what Veth does in episode 48 of that campaign? She screams at Caleb in anger because people connected to him hurt her family, even though Caleb has long since left those people and was a victim himself. Laudna can't even stand up for herself to Imogen (and we know Laudna can stand up for herself; that's what she's doing in the scene with Ashton) against her own murderer, even as Imogen outright entertains the possibility of allying with the Vanguard.
Caleb and Veth trust each other and themselves to still love and care for each other if they disagree. Laudna and Imogen do not.
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Jokers living up to their names and doing it in an alternate reality as usual. 😂
I'm sorry, but it's so pathetic to come to a Taekooker blog after Jimin makes a birthday post to brag about Jikook thriving and Taekook "giving" us nothing in the time of solo era/2023 when there have been more significant Taekook moments than any single year since I started following their story in 2016. We've seen Jikook together four times when we know they were filming company content, and Weverse/TikTok interactions...and that's pretty much it.
Taekook is Thriving™, so I can see why they'd want to swap narratives. Multiple confirmed hang outs before leaving on trips and after arriving back in SK (including when Tae was only back for a couple of days in between schedules), Paradise Hotel, Busan beach late night, bowling (multiple times confirmed), attending a musical, the Dream premiere, arriving late to Yoongi's concert together and leaving together, wearing the matching sweetheart shirts on the same day despite Tae being in SK and Jungkook being in LA at the time which is one of the most insane boyfriend things they've ever done, Tae sneaking into Inkigayo to support Jungkook's first solo performance there, Jungkook proudly wearing the Wooga ring which tells us he has officially been folded into Tae's closest social circle in a significant way and of course his closest friends have been outspokenly supporting his bf's hit song including Bogum and one of Tae's best friends from high school.
This is just what I could think of off the top of my head, my mind has actually been blown by how much has happened in the last year. Everything makes sense given what I believe to be the nature of their relationship, I just feel incredibly blessed. Never expecting anything, but always grateful for what they share. That's where I'm at. I've actually never been more sure of them. I don't give a single f about who posts what on social media, I never have. They can call each other. Taekook literally live within walking distance of each other. They can hang out whenever they want without anyone knowing, and I'm sure they do. Being boyfriends and all.
I just think people in the fandom in general are unaware of a lot of what Taekook do because I remember seeing posts after the Dream premiere from ARMYs saying "I feel like it's been years since I've seen them!" And some people very intentionally try to avoid seeing what they're up to together. It's cool. You just look like an idiot when you come to a Taekooker blog and say nonsense like what that anon sent. 😂
They love to come and brag on taekook blogs, and it really is pathetic. Any little j*kook interaction is seen as another chance for them to get "one up" on us, which is very immature. It's not a competition 🙄
You're right. There have been PLENTY of pretty significant taekook moments this year, but j*kookers are blind to them as usual. Even with all the taekook going on, j*kookers still claim it's a "dead ship."
To be fair, as I said before, we don't always know when the members hang out with each other, so j*kook could quite possibly have hung out together more than what we already know, but certain comments from them, and the fact that they haven't known each others schedules or what the other has been doing recently makes that seem more unlikely. And j*kook filming company content is not a "romantic outing," despite how much they want it to be 🤷♀️
I think taekook makes them feel insecure at times, which is why they try to diminish their interactions. There's no denying at this point that taekook are incredibly close (romantic or not) and that they spend a whole lot of time together. If j*kookers are really as unbothered by this as they say they are, why are they always so desperate to rub any little j*kook moment in our faces the second it happens?
You listing all those taekook moments really made me realise just how much taekook content there has been in the past 8-9 months! They really are thriving. Taekook don't have to DO anything for me to keep believing in them, but they keep showing us in little, subtle ways where their priorities lie. "Never expecting anything, but always grateful for what they share" is such a great way to put it. I don't expect anything from them. I'm not entitled to their private life or relationship, I just enjoy observing their love from afar.
I think a lot of the fandom is very unaware of the extent of taekook's bond and their interactions. We look for and notice things about them that they never would. They don't pay attention to noises in the background of their lives or them wearing the same t-shirt on the same day. Most of what makes us believe in taekook isn't common knowledge amongst army because if you're not looking for it, you won't see it. They're not exactly flaunting their relationship. I do feel like they leave us a few clues every now and then, though 😉
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i love having a less known platform so i can talk abt shipping jeanluc in a very specific way without kids jumping me for it so i give you two scenarios. it's long, bear with me, i've got a lot of thoughts.
diluc and jean dated in their teens in both of them, things didn't work out but they still cared a lot about each other and assumed they were better as just friends. (+transmasc kaeya, trans woman lisa, and rosaria being surprisingly helpful)
diluc assumes they're gay for the longest time. they just never get the same feelings for women as guys do, but they do get some sort of feelings and assume that it's platonic. they just... never actually find their relationships with men working out. something goes wrong, they get icked by random things that don't even make sense to be icked by. it's not even the guy, he could be the perfect man for him, but he'll get to a certain point and just be uncomfortable, even just the thought of being someone's boyfriend gives them the ick. they just end up complaining to kaeya when they figure he's drunk enough to not get it. kaeya drops that it sounds a little like dysphoria. diluc initially denies it because they don't really care about their body, it's just a few phrases that make them uncomfortable. but something about the conversation sticks with them, and they keep thinking about it. kaeya asks a few days later if they'd like to try new pronouns/titles, and they pretend to have no idea what he's talking about. but it still stuck. rosaria's in the bar that night fixing her eyeliner, and on a whim, diluc asks if she'd mind trying something on them. and when she hands them the mirror... something just felt right. it wasn't heavy makeup, just some light eyeliner, but they look really pretty and actually enjoy looking rather than just tolerating their appearance. they get adelinde to help them out a bit more and experiment with gender, eventually figure out they aren't super comfortable with being addressed as a woman or presenting fully femininely either, but prefer that to being seen as a man all the time and don't mind she/her pronouns. they eventually come out to a few people close to them, jean included. they end up talking more - it's not weird for jean, lisa, and diluc to all show up together to girl's night (non-gendered - half the people at girl's night aren't even girls). but with this bit of self-discovery comes a new resurgence of feelings. diluc isn't exactly the lovey type, but he finds himself inviting jean to hang out sometimes, even if they just hang out in the same place for a while. it gets jean out of her office and work for a quick rest, and it gets diluc out of their head for a while. they realize that things didn't work out because they didn't know who they were yet. they always tied their identity to external things, and it's easy to lose yourself when you lose those. one night, they finally get up the nerve to test the waters and find out that jean has been considering similar things on her end. they end up giving it another try, and it doesn't even feel like things have changed, per se. they've just got a label on it now.
jean didn't really try to figure out their gender. it was actually a complete accident. men's clothing was often just more practical. he never saw a need to correct people who called him "sir" or thought he was a guy from a distance. they just... never really cared. and honestly, who did it hurt if kaeya sometimes came over to play dress-up and jean tended to go for more masculine looks? it was all just for fun, right?... until it wasn't. it was time for a banquet, and he was expected to be wearing a dress. but something about it didn't fit them right. not physically. he just looked... wrong in the mirror. and of course, lisa came in with kaeya to see what was wrong. jean looked great, what was wrong? a few more outfits had the same issue - he looked fine, the dresses were quite lovely and some of their favourites, but the thought of being in them for hours and being expected to just... perform being a woman just felt wrong. lisa looked a bit confused and asked offhandedly if jean felt like being a woman was a performance. but that's how everyone felt about gender, right?... apparently not, lisa really did feel like a woman deep down. but of course lisa would, after the work she went through to transition. kaeya mentions that's how he felt about gender before he figured out the nuances, and while gender does still feel more like a performance to him, he just feels like kaeya. he explains that especially before, he always saw it more as pretending to be a woman or pretending to be a man. it's easier for people to see him as a guy, and he far prefers that to his other options. otherwise, people ask too many questions he can only answer in abstract concepts. and something about that resonates with jean. they don't push it immediately, but do decide to try on a blazer, and that odd feeling is gone. the banquet is fun, and he catches diluc staring more than once. and lisa and kaeya help him figure things out. this wasn't meant to bring them closer to diluc, but they end up hanging out more regardless. after dropping off kaeya one night because "he's too drunk to be left alone, and i can't find rosaria or the alchemist," he ends up inviting diluc in. they talk a while. then they talk more. mid-conversation one day, diluc drops that he thinks he likes jean. jean doesn't process it for a few seconds, continuing to ponder what food to order from good hunter, but when it sets in, he isn't opposed. they do both care for each other, after all, never hurts to give it another try.
mix and matchable as well i just think theyre cute scenarios
#genshin impact#jeanluc#jean gunnhildr#diluc ragnvindr#trans diluc#trans jean#screams into the void bc i love these dorks#ive heard that they act like they dated in middle school and they really do but hear me out
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WWDITS SPOILERS
Ok I really enjoyed these first two episodes, so some highlights, in no particular order!!
The house looks beautiful. I know it's falling apart and it's a mess, but it looks GORGEOUS
I'm genuinely so grateful that the reunion wasn't angsty? They're vampires, they've known each other for hundreds of years and this is Not the worst thing any of them have done to each other. They're a family, and the show relies on them being able to bounce back and care about each other no matter what.
On the other hand, Guillermo has every right to be pissed and I'm so proud of him for it <3
Nandor diving in after Guillermo with Zero hesitation holy fuck.
The raccoon bit is funny, I can't deny.
They've gotta remind us that these guys are terrible people sometimes and they've done an Incredible job thus far.
The Guide?? Someone (not Laszlo) actually give her some help please
Also I love that she has OCD we stan a queen
Laszlo being into psychology is wild and I love it for him (also Jeebus someone take the boy away from him)
Nandor "I know I fell truly in love with Someone but idk who. Must've been one of my wives."
Also Nandor: Guillermo? You're not jealous that I'm getting married? Why not? I thought you would be?? What's the point then
the Djinn is... Stunning. He's got such a good aesthetic, he's exasperated, he's handsome, and I'm In Love with the pen click, it's so good.
I'm so proud of Guillermo for keeping Freddie whoever he was on the phone with a secret from the Vamps and also the Documentary crew??? Yes king, set those boundaries!!
#What We Do in The Shadows#WWDITS FX#WWDITS Spoilers#WWDITS S4#WWDITS Season 4#delightful thus far#Cannot WAIT to watch this season develop !#Nickellaneous
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The last fight
Request:
Loki and you fight constantly. But during your last fight, you are on your period, which equals strong pain. You are not as sarcastic as always. When Loki oversteps, you start to cry and run back to your room. Loki goes to comfort you.
Word count:
1.802 words
Warnings:
None, just some fluff
Like you could write something along the lines of enemies to lovers with loki where they've hated each other ever since loki moved into avengers tower and they have one of those arguments, only that reader is on her period (which equals strong pain) and she's not as sarcastic as she always was, how she always responded with a sharp comment, so now against her will she starts crying. She flees to her room . Loki sees it. He go after her and he gives her comfort, lots of cuddling, kissing confession of love, generally no smut just comfort and fluff.
Loki and you were at it again. The whole team had left the living room as soon as the argument started. It started with Loki being annoyed that you drank the last of the milk and forgot to replace it today. But the fight soon spiralled out of control, to the point no one could keep track what the two of you were fighting about. You couldn’t stand him. At least, that was what everyone – including Loki himself – thought. That’s what you wanted them to think. The first week you met the God, things went well. Both of you had some interests in common and formed a connection quite soon. But that’s when the problem started, you fell for him. Hard. And it only took a week.
Not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of Loki or any team member, you did what you always did. You denied it. But after a few weeks, you couldn’t deny it anymore. Instead of growing closer towards Loki, you actively started to push him away. It wasn’t fair, but it was your only option. It broke your heart that you were actually succeeding well in pushing him away. But you tried your best to ignore that feeling and shove the pain so deep inside, that you couldn’t feel it.
Lok was right to be annoyed that you didn’t replace the milk. But what he didn’t know, you had just gotten your period this morning. The first day was always the worst. You felt a lot hotter, you had little energy to do anything, were nauseous all morning, and the pain crams hadn’t stopped coming. You had spent the morning curled up in your bed, hoping it would go away. It didn’t. You knew you had to get up. After a while you put yourself together and slowly walked towards the living room. Steve had made you a cup of tea and you were slowly sipping it, while you laid on the couch. The rest of the team was doing things among themselves in the living room. It was quiet and peaceful. That’s when Loki entered, annoyed.
‘Seriously, who is responsible for not replacing the milk?’ he tsk-ed at the end of his sentence, in case someone had missed from the tone in his voice how annoyed he actually was. Without saying anything the whole team looked at you, Loki did as well. Your face said everything they needed to know.
‘I could have guessed’ Loki’s malicious grin appeared on his face.
You slowly got to sit up-right on the couch. You noticed that the team already had left the living room. You tried to avoid a fight in the state you were in.
‘I wasn’t able to go shopping this morning. I will go tomorrow, I’m sorry’ you said. Hoping that the apology was good enough the get him off your back. You should have known it wasn’t.
‘And how is that going to help me today?’ he answered. He had walked towards the chair opposite of the couch you were sitting on, and sat down. Clearly enjoying the tension that was in the air.
‘It is not. But I’m sure a powerful God as yourself could survive one day without his glass of milk’ you grumbled back at him. From the glare he shot you, you knew you had hit a nerve.
‘You know we have a system in place. You are not above the rules. Instead of being lazy and lying-in bed all morning, you could do something productive for once’ he shot back.
A pain cramp shot through you, but you tried to remain unaffected in front of Loki. Even though you wanted to curl up in a ball and cry at the moment.
‘Just because I stayed in bed this morning, doesn’t mean I’m lazy’ you answered.
Loki’s malicious grin returned to his smug face. ‘If there was someone with you, perhaps not. But we both know that it has been a while for you. For obvious reasons’ he hissed, while eying you up and down.
You did look like a mess at the moment. In your sweatpants, hair not done and frizzy, wearing a hoody. You already weren’t feeling good about yourself, and this comment certainly didn’t help. Loki always had a way to spot the weakness and insecurities off his opponents immediately. The trick to arguing with Loki was by being quick, sharp and as emotionless as possible. Three things you weren’t able to be at the moment.
Loki leaned back in his chair, waiting for your reply. But he didn’t get what he was expecting. Instead of a snarky comment, you felt the tears already rushing down your cheeks. Even though it hurt like hell, you shot up from the couch and walked back to your room as fast as possible. You slammed the door behind you and crawled back into bed to cry. You cried yourself to sleep.
You awoke from a soft knock on the door.
‘(Y/N), please answer me’ you heard Loki softly whispering from the other side.
You sat upright in your bed and looked at the clock. You were asleep for about half an hour. But it took you a while the recount everything that had happened. The pain cramp had died down a bit. You felt incredibly hot and removed your hoody over your head and threw it on the ground. You were a tank top underneath and enjoyed the way the cool air hit your skin.
‘(Y/N), please’ you heard Loki again from the other side of the door.
‘What do you want?’ you snapped at him.
‘Can I come in please?’ he asked.
‘Loki, I’m not feeling well. Just forget about what happened’
Apparently, Loki wasn’t having it. The door slowly opened. When you didn’t say anything, you watched him enter your room a little skittish. Probably expecting you to throw him out. But you didn’t. He closed the door behind him and sat down on your bed.
‘I’m sorry. I crossed a line, and I shouldn’t have’ he apologized to you.
‘It’s not about what you said. I mean, it wasn’t nice. But I’m used to fighting with you. I’m not feeling well, and it just got the better of me. So, forget about it’ you replied.
‘I can’t. What is wrong? Maybe I can help?’ he asked.
‘Why? All we do is fight’ you sceptically asked.
‘You’re hot?’ he asked, completely ignoring your question.
You nodded. Before you knew it, you felt his cold hand against your forehead. You couldn’t help but lean into the touch. Closing your eyes, you relinquished in the cold feeling. When the hand pulled away you looked questioningly at Loki, who was smiling brightly. He crawled in the bed with you and took of his shirt. You just stared dumbfounded at him, not knowing how the react.
‘Come here’ he said and motioned for you to lay down on his chest. ‘I’m a frost giant, and I am always cold’ he reminded you.
This time it wasn’t the cramps that acted up. It were the butterflies you tried so hard to ignore for the last past months. But how could you resist a shirtless Loki, who was literally asking you to cuddle with him? Especially when you were feeling like this.
You moved closer towards him and gently laid down on his chest. You felt an arm wrap around you and pull you closer. You melted on his cool chest, and you heard him chuckle a little.
‘Why are you being nice to me?’ you mumbled.
‘Because I like you’ he replied, which wasn’t the reply you were expecting.
‘Since when? We always fight’ you said.
Loki laid down on his side, so the two of you were face to face. You couldn’t help but notice how close his lips were to yours. You fell yourself lean in a little but was able to stop yourself just in time. Loki showed you a smile that you couldn’t quite place. You were also too distracted with the feeling of his cold hand, slowly caressing your back.
‘Since always’ he said. ‘I don’t know what I did wrong, but I miss the you, you were the first weeks I arrived. We had so much fun together’ he whispered.
‘It was not something you did’ you answered.
‘You know why I’m always picking a fight with you?’ he asked.
You shook your head, slowly. Trying to focus on the words that were leaving his gorgeous lips you wanted to kiss badly.
‘Because it is the only time, we spend time alone together’ he confessed.
You looked into his eyes. And noticed the blush that was creeping up on his face. That’s when he closed the distance, and you felt his lips on yours. The kiss was short, but intimate.
‘I didn’t mean to overstep’ he whispered to you.
That’s when you felt brave enough to close the distance again. Loki eagerly accepted to kiss, and you felt his hand move to your upper back. Pushing you closer towards his chest. Eventually, you had to stop to catch your breath.
‘That last fight was totally worth it’ he teased. ‘But about that, darling, I hope you know that I think you are absolutely beautiful. That comment I made, it was in no-way the truth’ he said more seriously.
‘As much as I appreciate you saying and doing all of this. I really don’t have the energy for it’ you said, repressing a yawn.
‘Go take a nap, I’ll keep you cool’ he said. ‘Can I do something? Get you something? What is the problem?’ he asked.
‘It’s nothing’ you lied.
‘Do I have to remind you who you are talking to?’ he softly scolded you.
You swallowed deeply and nuzzled your face closer against his cool chest. Hiding your face in embarrassment.
‘(Y/N), please? You can tell me anything’ Loki said.
‘It is my time of the month’ you barely made audible.
‘Oooh’ you heard Loki say after a few seconds. ‘That sucks, darling’ he added.
‘What is it exactly that you are experiencing?’ he followed up.
‘Hot, cramps, no energy, headache, and my brain had just stopped working’
‘Then take your nap that I interrupted. And see how you feel when you wake up. I’ll be here. I’ll take care of you, until you feel like yourself again. And when you do, I’m going to take you out on a date’ he started to pepper you face in kissed, making you giggle.
‘I just had to hear you laugh’ he smiled.
‘Hmm, thanks for being here’ you mumbled against his skin, feeling sleep overcome you.
‘Anything for you, love’ Loki said while he kissed your forehead and let you drift off to sleep in his arms.
Taglist: @delightfulheartdream @theaudacitytowrite @pescadoavocado @theestorm @justacripple @taurusbeing @callistoneith @mavelfan2335 @colorfulfreakstudentpizza @vbecker10 @prettylittlepluviophile @stjarnaloki @dayzmae @lokislittlemoon @ilovefanfictions
#loki#loki laufeyson#loki odinson#loki x reader#loki of asgard#loki fanfiction#loki x you#loki fanfic#loki marvel#loki god of mischief#loki fluff#mcu loki#loki x y/n#loki fic#loki story#loki of jotunheim#loki oneshot#loki one shot
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Late Night Musings
Sincerity being their brand.
And I say that because they do try to be honest with us. They do show us many sides of themselves. They've shown us some of the process behind BE and their thoughts when they clearly said here that wasn't something they had initially wanted to do. They've now talked about how they come to a decision about which songs and parts they sing, and how they resolve fights.
That fight between taejin and how they resolved it was shown to us. We've gotten bigger pieces of the dumpling situation now than we had before. They said here that it wasn't something they had wanted to show us at first...a side of themselves that people may not like. But in the interest of sincerity, they do show us those things. And even thinking about how people end up not liking them because of how they conduct themselves inside of their friendships with each other (I still maintain that y'all need to butt out of their relationships and keep your projecting at home)...I'm certain they've realized how inevitable dislike can be. You can't keep 100% of people happy 100% of the time.
So it really isn't fair or right when people accuse them of CONSTANTLY using a script or lying.
They choose what they want to share and what they want to show us. They choose.
There are still parts of themselves they keep for themselves, as they should. They have private lives and relationships. They will live their lives however they want. No permission from us required or requested.
But they're getting older and they've been hoping that ARMY has been maturing along with them. Eventually they will reveal certain happy moments in their lives. Sincerity being a key aspect of our parasocial relationship with each other.
ARMY hasn't done enough at this point to earn their trust with that information. They'll deny rumors, but would they confirm rumors? Would they willingly share happy news with us? Or would it cause them anxiety?
I know it causes me anxiety.
I've watched people in this fandom attack rumored gfs, and complete strangers to the guys, send sexually explicit material to their family members, and harass businesses....and I haven't seen enough pushback from inside the fandom against those actions.
Antis will do what antis will do, but if they're doing it under the guise of being fans, shouldn't they have that name stripped from them? Shouldn't they be identified and called out by the anti name that they are? Shouldn't they be known for their misbehaviors? Shouldn't they be ignored and shunned for the same?
I don't know if it actually matters if BTS sees their actions as part and parcel of ARMY. I don't know if BTS cares that they have fans that hurt them repeatedly and still call themselves fans. I don't know if it's possible to exclude subsections of the fandom from fandom activities via social media.
I don't know.
#bts#antis#this is me being too idealistic#where are the people who can model healthy relationships for these emotionally and mentally unwell people?#they need healthy relationship examples#and therapy
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i want horikoshi to have the balls for uraraka to actually get over her crush on deku. id like to see it happen. it would be refreshing, could give her the opportunity to finally grow out of her "poorly developed love interest" box. katsuki's plot has become a major deterrent to her developing relationship with deku whether you see bkdk as romantic or not and deku showing exactly 0 serious romantic interest in her doesn't help.
ppl say there's a double standard when it comes to ppl complaining about her character being focused solely around deku when katsuki is the same, but to me they're not the same at all.
first of all, most of the characters' developments are influenced by deku because he's the MC. that's what he's supposed to do.
katsuki's development in relation to deku makes sense because of their shared baggage and backstory. they've known each other for over a decade and katsuki's treatment of izuku is one of his character's biggest sins. meanwhile for uraraka, deku is a classmate she's known for less than a year.
katsuki does not develop solely around deku. he has a lot of important solo struggles and moments. his toxic relationship with weakness and failure, his friendships with kirishima, kaminari, todoroki, the remedial classes, getting kidnapped, kamino and his guilt over it, his relationships with all might and endeavor, his goals of being number one,etc. in fact i felt that up until the most recent arcs, he improved himself in the background first and foremost, and only recently has the focus shifted to his relationship with deku and what he's doing to improve it. he is also arguably the most transformative character for deku outside of like... all might. the impact these two have on each other is huge (that said i would like to see an arc of them separated)
uraraka is the opposite. up until aoyama pointed out her crush, she was a cool character with tons of potential. she was super transformative for deku as his first friend, the one who made deku into dekiru, and generally recognized him. in the sports festival she denies deku's help and thinks up her own cool strategy, a major moment for both her and bakugou. afterwards... i feel like im watching a pitiful version of sakura. yeah she has her moments with toga, but even those are deeply connected to izuku. and all of it is so one-sided. she does not do anything for him anymore. what better example than the JTA incident. insulting bakugou riled deku up so much he unlocked a whole new aspect of his quirk, and uraraka jumping on him wasn't enough to calm him down. his care for bakugou was greater than his care for her. it's honestly such a disservice to her, because even when she's trying she falls short compared to bakugou, who's one of the most complex and subtly developed characters in the series. todoroki has filled the secondary role she could've had as tertiary protagonist, and momo is a far more compelling female lead, has taken a major role in leading the class.
i cannot think of a single struggle of uraraka's character that was not connected in some way to deku even when that connection detracted from the struggle and made it a joke to watch. her best recent chapter was the one where she was solo saving people. give us more of that instead of forcing a relationship with izuku that's just not there. toga is faaaar more compelling to me than her.
And it's a shame because I think she could've been great.
I full believe that something behind the scenes is at play with Urarakas character
She was one of Horis first characters, she’s been around almost as long as Bakugo has, her character role was supposed to be someone who could keep up with and draw Deku out of his bubble and we can see that in action until just after the sports festival
I don’t think it’s just that Katsuki’s character took a larger role because Hori has said that he’s known that Katsuki was going to be a major influence on Deku and more than an antagonist since DvsK and Uraraka still retained her relevance and role long afte that
Other characters have taken back seats to Katsuki, like literally everyone but specifically Iida, Todoroki, and even Tokoyami have all lost some of their plot time to Katsuki despite being shown to be build a friendship with Deku.
Tokoyami obviously has suffered from that the most, Iida kinda dropped off the radar for a bit but it’s hinted here and there’s that he’s very much around and that he’s been busy taking up the mantle of Ingenium, Todo mange’s to be relevant to Katsuki’s growth as well as Deku’s so he stays in the game
But Uraraka has gotten none of that, the only time she’s shown anymore is to remind the audience that she has a crush on Deku.
She had a whole ass internship with Tsu and Nejire(one of the big three!) with Ryukyu(the number 9 hero!) and we saw like none of it
In fact we don’t see much of Tsu or Nejire when their plot intertwines with Urarakas, but both have received fun character plot boosts or small updates outside of her involvement.
It feels like Hori is avoiding her character tbh, like Uraraka has almost become a negative plot factor at this point.
The only thing I can really say that might explathe wedge is Uraraka disagreeing to go rescue Kacchan after which she kinda doubles down on getting over her crush, but it backfired and made her a little obsessive about it
But that hasn’t had the plot relevance to be the actual reason.
I think someone in the chain of command isn’t happy about Hori having such a focus on Deku and Kacchan at the same time as Uraraka tries to develop as a solo character, and it’s backed her character development into a corner by the default of Katsuki simply being a more important character to the overall story
Like maybe Hori just isn’t allowed to have her actually stop crushing even though it’s where her character is supposed to go and now she’s stuck in supporting cast love interest jail
Mrs.FlipPhone isn’t allowed to pass go or collect 200$, she gonna be poor and single Pringled until someone pays her bail 😔
#softy answers#Horikoshi loved her character so much#I find it hard to believe he’d do her this dirty on purpose#then again he just had his main drop out of school in an story with ‘’academia’’ in the title#afte having him on ice in a coma for a hot minute#and has decided that Katsuki never gets to have anything nice#and the true point of the show is Todoroki family drama#so who’s to say that his love means anything but pain
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WITCHING HOUR, a john seed/deputy fic.
chapter twelve: the desire to devour
word count: ~10.3k
rating: m
warnings: naughty language, .000002 seconds of spiciness (but not really), john goes "we were vibing, right? we had the vibes? right?" for like the entire last half. also mentions of self-harm and elliot's previous trauma.
notes: hi friends! i hope you enjoy this chapter! this is going to be the last sort of in-between chapter before we really get into it, and from here it's going to go faaaaast. i had a lot of fun writing it and feeling out these different dynamics. not to mention john being a gigantic fuckhead (but like what is new, lmao). special thank you as always to my wifey and beta reader @starcrier for your impeccable eyeballs, and also to @vasiktomis and @shallow-gravy for lending their eyes as well because i did fuss a bit with this chap. i would be lost without y'all. thank you everyone for your love and support, esp with comments! it really fills my heart so so much to hear back from you, and i am always in the market for friends so do not be afraid to reach out to me <3
She is twenty-five.
She’s twenty-five, and it's her first full day of work. Or, it was; now, she's sitting in the Spread Eagle listening to Pratt talk about everything that's happened while she's been gone, because he'd said, c'mon, let me take you out tonight. He grins a boyish, toothy grin at her—the same kind that's mimicked in the multiple school dance photos her mother covets—and tries to sound nonchalant when he asks how she liked being in the city.
It's hard not to think about how this is the first place she had ever met John Seed, then-Duncan, and how it feels like it's spoiled the whole place for her.
Elliot redirects her attention as best as she can to what it is Pratt is saying. He's fishing for information. They've always been each other's safety net, the person they can fall back on when all else fails. School dances. Picking partners in class. Graduation walking buddies. He'd driven her to the airport when she left for the Academy, even. But even though she knows he's trying to figure out if she's still a safety net, Elliot can't disguise the way thinking about Mason makes her feel—disgusting—so she brings the beer bottle to her mouth and takes a swallow.
The result is her face scrunching up. Pratt laughs.
“Geez, Elli, slow down,” he says, his smile crinkling at the corners of his eyes. “Bet money you're still a lightweight. When'd you start drinking beer, anyway?”
“I didn't,” she manages out around the taste, swallowing thickly. “I just won't let your money go to waste.”
He shrugs, as if to say, could, if you wanted, and swivels on the stool a little. He wants to press again—she can tell—but seems to have the good sense not to, instead busying his mouth with his own beer.
“Mama said Whitehorse let you right on,” Elliot says casually, trying to ignore the twinge of envy in her voice.
Pratt shrugs again. “He's known my dad a long time.”
“Known my mom too,” Elliot replies, dry.
“Yeah, well.” Pratt pauses, and sounds a little smug when he says, “Just because your mama likes me doesn’t mean I don’t know how she is to everyone else.”
“Likes you, does she?”
“Obviously,” the brunette replies confidently. “She still keeps all those photos of us. Remember senior year, she had all of her gal pals over when we were getting ready for prom—”
“Ugh.”
“—took us about 45 minutes before we were exactly where she wanted to take pictures—"
She rolls her eyes. Pratt grins, and then bumps his shoulder against hers. He says, “Aw, c’mon. Not so bad, is it? Having your mom like me?"
Elliot can feel the flush spreading under her cheeks. Not because she's embarrassed, or flustered, but because the beer sitting in her stomach feels rotten, and because Pratt's looking at her with the same kind of eyes he did before—always, always there's the before—and she doesn't know how to say I'm not her anymore, I'm not that girl, I'm different and changed and I don't know how to go back.
It doesn't matter. If Pratt can see it on her face, he doesn't let it show; just pats her shoulder and pretends he doesn't see the way she flinches from his hand swinging into her peripheral, pretends he doesn't notice the way she covers it up by swallowing another mouthful of beer she doesn't want to drink.
“Hudson’s really glad to have you back,” he says after a minute, when she doesn’t confirm nor deny that it’s not so bad knowing her mom thinks he’s a fine enough person. “Been talking about it nonstop.”
A smile creeps its way onto her face. “I’m glad to be back. With her, especially.”
“Yeah, you two always been thick, huh?”
She nods, swallows more beer, and Pratt rolls his eyes and snags the bottle out of her hand.
“Don’t keep drinking if you don’t like it,” he tells her, and then finishes it off himself, setting the empty bottle on the countertop with a grimace. “Can’t have people telling Whitehorse I bullied the probie into drinking.”
“‘Probie’,” she scoffs. “I could kick your ass.”
“Bullshit!”
“Could’ve done it before, Pratt.”
“Now that is lies and slander.”
Elliot only grins at him, the only time since coming back sans Joey getting her from the airport that it’s been a genuine thing; lopsided and a little sloppy but a grin nonetheless. Pratt finishes his own beer now, coughing a little into his fist before he blurts out, “I’m glad, too.”
She blinks. “Huh?”
“That you’re back,” Pratt clarifies. “Y’know—nice to have my friend back. Didn’t like sendin’ you off to the big city, anyway.”
He doesn’t know. He can’t know, because her mother won’t talk about it and Joey would never divulge what it was that had brought about her speedy return—but even though he doesn’t know about the way she has to swallow back a flinch every time he waves his hand in her peripheral, or the way the smell of beer on a man’s breath makes her stomach clench with anxiety, or how her hands are so fucking cold all the time because her heart hammers in her chest, the way he says that (Didn’t like sendin’ you off to the big city, anyway) feels a little like vindication.
“S’okay,” she murmurs, nudging his shoulder with hers. “Came back in one piece, didn’t I?”
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The scent of roses wafted over her in waves. The sound of bathwater murmuring against the sides of the porcelain tub rippled each time she moved, each time she used the grip of her hands against the lip of the sides to sink herself under; her knuckles went cold with the ferocious grip, but when she went under she was submerged in quiet once more. Blissful, serene, quiet; just what she wanted.
Elliot pulled herself out of the water. Downstairs, she could hear her mother’s voice, spiking frantic even through the floors and the two closed doors that kept her separated.
“...years, Mr. Seed, I have lost years of my life agonizing over what she did to herself...”
She dipped below the water, closing her eyes. No sound; no shrill noise; just the heavy, bloated static that existed underneath the surface of the bath. Only her and the baby.
It occurred to her, absently, that she needed to start picking out names for the baby. Now that they had a guess at what the gender was, they’d have to decide about a name; not only a first, but a middle, too—the last name—
“...find it quite intriguing, actually, that the second she comes back to me after being involved with your kind that she’s got all this—this—”
Oh, don’t say it, Elliot thought tiredly, closing her eyes.
“—tear, just wretched wear and tear, Mr. Seed, don’t you? Don’t you find that intriguing?”
John was sitting down there, enduring a thorough verbal lashing, and she hadn’t even asked him to. She’d said, I don’t care if she thinks it was me, and he’d guided her upstairs and cupped her face and kissed her, long and open-mouthed, and swept his thumb over her cheek. Now, Elliot could hear the sound of his voice—calmer, empathetic, like just knowing that her mother was hysterical was giving him some kind of control over himself—but that he was speaking in a normal tone meant that his words didn’t come through quite so clearly.
She heard the sound of her mother saying, “I suppose you’re going to tell me why you’re not bothered in the least?” just before she dipped under the water again.
What was she going to name the baby? Did she even have an idea of what kinds of names she liked? Exhaustion pulled at the edges of her attention; she thought, I’m too tired to come up with a baby name, and gripped the edges of the bathtub harder. More fierce, more firm; grip and pull, maybe spill the entire bathtub over, tilt the clawed feet until it hit the tiled floor and the porcelain broke and the rose-scent water flooded the bathroom, her room, the hallway.
Then they’d have to leave. Then they couldn’t stay, surely, in a house flooded with rose water.
Fingers brushed over hers where they’d gone white at the edges of the tub. She pulled herself out of the water to find John sitting there, knelt at the side of the tub—not unlike the way he’d sat back at her mother’s house in Hope County, when she’d drank too much in the bathtub and said that he could mark her.
Because that’s what it had been. As much as she had wanted it, as much as she had enjoyed it, no matter what John said—he had been marking her as his. Like that Oscar Wilde poem.
The same sin binds us.
Elliot brushed the water from her eyes and settled her head back against the tub, regarding him. He looked less bothered than she thought he would, having sat through her mother’s grilling and interrogation—though he did look like he wanted to say something, like maybe it was sitting, burning into ash in his mouth, the way she could see the flex of his jaw and the way his free hand clenched and loosened.
Ignoring the nagging feeling that he wanted to ask her what she’d been doing under the water, and the even more bothersome knowledge that she had, at some point, become painfully aware of his body language, Elliot said, “We have to think of a name.”
John blinked at her. Less than an hour ago, he’d been saying Of course I’d come for you, I love you, with or without the baby I love you, and she’d been sobbing into his arms and clinging to him.
He said, “And a middle name.”
“I’m trying not to think about it.”
A smile finally ticked the corner of his mouth, his fingers uncurling hers from the edge of the tub. Reluctantly, she let him.
“Your mother’s upset.” He paused. “She still wants you to play nice for her Christmas party, but she’s upset.”
“I know,” she replied sullenly. The despair of her shame, which had at once both overwhelmed her and hollowed her out, had dissipated in the wake of her indignation. What would she know, that vicious thing inside of her said, replaying the way her mother’s expression had crumpled. What would she know of our suffering? What would she know of our pain? ‘Wretched wear and tear’, like we haven’t been torn up for ages, like she didn’t throw us to the wolves and scoff in disgust when we came back bloodied and battered.
She wanted to be angry, really angry, but like most things that had to do with her mother, Elliot found herself more exhausted than anything. Scarlet had always found it impossible to comprehend the scars she’d given herself, had always claimed to feel disconnected to the ways Elliot had searched out meaning and comfort.
Absently, Elliot wet her lips and let her gaze flicker up to where John had perched himself beside the tub. He looked mighty pleased with himself, having finally gotten his words out. I love you, he’d said, palm flat against her window, I love you, with or without the baby.
And John, I want a home with you.
And John, Marriage is hard work, but I know you’re just the woman for the job.
And John, No way baby, I’m fucking it for you.
Blood rushed through her head, thunderous. John was saying something to her, but the words felt distant, and far away, and everything felt like it was underwater when she moved—not just the parts of her submerged in the bath, but all of it, the air too-thick and dragging on her skin and pulling her down slow as molasses. She blinked a few times as she disentangled their hands and reached for the towel, but John pulled it off of the hook first.
She watched him. She watched his mouth move, and his brows pull and furrow together at the center of his forehead, and the way his breath rose and fell in his chest, pushing and pulling the Sloth scar scratched across his sternum. Just like me, dream John had said, gripping her blood-covered hands, you’re just like me.
His voice, muffled and bogged down by the blood rushing through her ears, quirked up at the end. Elliot’s eyes darted back to his, and she asked, “Sorry, what?”
“The water’s cold,” he replied, waving the towel a bit. “Aren’t you getting out?”
“Yeah,” Elliot murmured. She felt hollow. Her fingers itched. She wanted—
John caught her hand as she stepped out of the bathtub, steadying her while her free hand gathered the towel up against her front. Goosebumps prickled across her skin, the lukewarm temperature of the bath still lingering; his fingers interlaced with hers, and she used it to steady herself.
He was close. They were close. A part of her resented it—that she let him be so close to her, that she let him kiss her and fuck her but mostly that she let him hold her when she cried, miserably, that she wanted to go home. Because after everything, after all of it, Hope County still felt—
She closed her eyes. Of course it still felt like home. Joey was there; now she knew Pratt was, too.
And among all of that, if she waded through the weeds spreading in her mind, if she hacked and cut them away, there was John.
“What are you thinking about?” John murmured, his cologne washing over her, their noses brushing. Her eyes fluttered open and she let out a little breath, that wanton little creature in her head chanting it over and over. There’s John, there’s always been John, nobody will love us with this much red in our ledger. No one but him.
“You,” she managed. Her head felt swimmy, the words coming out of her mouth sounding like a stranger’s—thick with want. John’s eyes flickered up to hers, having fixed on her mouth.
“If you want something, Ell,” he rumbled, the pressure of his fingertips against the back of her neck guiding her forward just a little but not all the way, “you only—”
Elliot leaned forward and kissed him, her hand lifting so that she could curl her fingers into his hair, the towel slipping to the floor. His body had tensed, like he wasn’t expecting it—like he was waiting for something else—and she thought about the way he’d kissed her with Kian’s blood in her mouth, the way he’d been just rampant with desire, the way the way the way—
Her teeth caught his lower lip, a little sharper than she’d intended, and his hand gripping her wrist tightened and he moaned, and she felt that same little thrill as before surge through her. It’s my magic, too, the itch in her fingers subsiding when she dug her nails in and pulled his hair a little, parting her lips against his; John leaned into her, crowding her up against the counter in front of the mirror, the hand at the nape of her neck threading into damp hair.
“Ell,” he said against her mouth, his voice rougher than before and hands planted on the counter on either side of her, “what are you doing?”
She murmured, “Stop talking,” and kissed him again, fingers clumsily working through the buttons on his shirt—her voice came out even but everything else about her felt wobbly, unsteady, craving craving craving the way it felt to have him begging her. Anything, to feel in control. Anything, to feel whole. Dig, and dig, and when you hit the bottom you keep digging some more, right?
What do we do with grief, right?
Burn and erase the image of her mother’s disgust and horror at seeing a part of her she might actually like, scrape it from her mind, dig her trenches deep deep deep and hunker down where she could feel safe, where she could feel strong; soon she would be home and—
And John’s teeth snagged her lower lip in retribution, sparking violent and red-hot behind her eyes with pleasure lighting her neurons on fire.
“Off,” she ground out against his mouth, pushing helplessly at the shirt she’d only halfway unbuttoned. The brunette grinned; his hands resumed her work, and she instead devoted her attention to the belt at his waist, yanking at it as John’s face dropped to her neck, hot breath fanning across her skin teeth dragging against her pulse point to pull a moan out of her.
There was a split second between John discarding his shirt on the floor and gripping her hips to lift her onto the countertop, his mouth seeking hers out again as she wound her arms around his neck. She had never been completely naked and felt not vulnerable at all, felt more in control—but she did, now, when she grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled and he moaned her name, a little frantic, Ell, Ell, hellcat, he said into their kiss, let me let me, greedy and wanting as he glided fingers up along the inside of her thigh.
He tensed, like he was going to drop to his knees, and she kept her hand in his hair and said, “Don’t.”
“Hm,” is what he replied, “pulling on my hair, ordering me to take my clothes off—”
“I’m about to tell you to shut up again.”
“—but won’t let me eat you out?” John grinned against her mouth, the scent of his cologne—expensive, stupid shit, but it never failed to feel like it was overwhelming her senses—washing over her. “What is it, baby? Want me to say please?”
Yes, something wicked inside of her said, John’s eyes lifting from her mouth to hers, narrowing playfully. Yes, I’d like that, I’d like to hear you say it like that.
“I know you,” he purred. He dug his nails into her hips, a sound—the wanting kind—trying to crawl its way up her throat. “Know exactly what you want from me. Yeah? So, Ell, won’t you please—”
There was a sharp knock at the door, a pause, and then: “Elliot?”
A near-silent laugh billowed out of John, stifled into her neck when her mother’s voice came through the door. Elliot’s eyes fluttered; her fingers, knotted in John’s hair, loosened and smoothed down the back of his neck, the intoxicating tension relaxing just a little. Heat had coiled in the hollow of her chest, spreading warm fingers at the same leisurely pace that John’s hand drifted up to her hip, his mouth finding the hollow of her jaw.
“I can’t believe her,” she muttered. “Yes?”
“Miss West is here, with her brother.” Scarlet’s voice was tight. “Returning your vehicle.”
Fuck. Elliot sighed, her eyes closing for a second while she tried to gather her thoughts. It was difficult to focus with John’s breath on her neck and his hands on her skin and that fucking cologne—and boy, did she not want to dwell on the fact that he’d shown up with barely anything but somehow also remembered to pack his stupid fucking cologne. But there was a different, special kind of warmth that spread through her when she realized that Sylvia was coming to check on her.
“Hair’s wet,” she called after a moment, “I’ll be down in a minute.”
“Fine.” There was another pause, and then her mother’s voice, scathing even through the door: “Ensure you are put together, Elliot.”
John murmured against her neck, “So no hickeys, then?” and she swatted his shoulder, rolling her eyes and sliding off of the counter. He seemed reluctant to let her disembark, thumb sweeping the slope of her hip before he dropped down—just far enough to plant a kiss on the gentle slope of her tummy. It was—sentimental, unseating her with incredible ease.
And then he ruined it by saying, “Your mommy won’t let me fuck her filthy, but I hear the second trimester throws a woman’s hormones through the roof, so we’ll see how long that lasts,” to her bump as he grabbed the towel from the floor to offer to her.
She snatched it from his hands, wrapping it around herself. “Don’t say that shit to the baby. You think I won’t end your life?”
“I wouldn’t mind,” he offered, head cocked to the side. “Leaving the hickeys, anyway, I mean. Well, and the second part too. About sex. Not the murderous part. Actually, you know I find it—”
Choosing to ignore the latter statement, Elliot narrowed her eyes. “You’d risk Via’s opinion of you dropping so severely?”
“You know what they say.” John spread his hands, almost in a gesture of helplessness; though she knew he was far from it. “Old habits die hard.”
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“She’s killing all of my angels!”
Faith’s voice was sharp, piercing; Isolde’s fingers fluttered over the bridge of her nose to fend off an impending headache, pen held poised above the notepad where she’d been writing down her thoughts but had paused in time for the girl’s interjection. She couldn’t stand a messy page—ink smears, jarred letters. Unacceptable.
Two hours ago, she’d had Jacob drive her out to where the service was strongest. A flood of emails and texts from her family had been waiting to overload her phone. Her dad, things are looking poorly, where are you?, her sister, I’ve been trying to reach you for days.
“Jacob,” the blonde plunged on, interrupting her train of thought, “you have to do something. They’re being—gutted like fish!”
“You should have locked them down,” Jacob told her. “And you’re not the only one losing things.”
“I put—” Faith cut herself off, clearly taking a moment to compose herself before she pitched her voice low and said, “I put just as much work into them as you do into yours.”
The red head’s voice bloomed with annoyance when he said, “Oh, did you?”
“No fighting, please,” Joseph called from where he sat next to her. His voice was even, elbows rested on his legs and fingers interlaced in thought. “I know this is stressful. But you must keep your faith in God.”
“Santi told me that—whoever she is has been leaving their corpses all around!” Faith’s voice pitched high with distress, now, sweeping around Jacob to come to where they had sat, big doe eyes wide. “We have to do something. Please, Father—I don’t want our people to wonder if they’re going to be next.”
Joseph paused, looking pensive for a moment; Isolde thought he might have been trying to figure out how he wanted to phrase something, but before he could speak, Isolde looked at Jacob and said, “You were going to hunt her down anyway, weren’t you?”
The eldest Seed’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you start with me too, Sol.”
“Get some fresh air,” she replied curtly, “go for a drive, clear your head. Eliminate a problem. You’ve been wearing a hole in the floors anyway; put that energy into being productive.”
“P—” Jacob’s voice spiked, incredulous. “Excuse me?”
He was agitated. She could tell—Pratt, and the phone call with the deputy in Georgia, and the Hunter on some kind of one-man rampage. But more importantly, Isolde thought, Jacob was agitated because there had not been a single conversation between him and Joseph since their argument.
Well, not even an argument. Just a lashing. A public one.
Isolde scooted her chair back from the table that had been set up at the front of the chapel, setting her pen down and stepping away. Her hand landed on the crook of Jacob’s elbow as she passed, and though he made a noise that implied disdain, he followed—not without shrugging her hand off by the time they got to the front doors of the chapel, leaving the other two to talk in low, murmured voices.
“You have got to stop letting this get to you,” she hissed.
“Nothing is ‘getting’—”
“Listen to me,” Isolde interjected. “I’ve been keeping as close an eye on the news as I have been on you. Things are—” She paused, mouth twisting around the words. “There is no room for you lot to be bloody fighting with each other. Do you understand me? This has moved far past needing to prepare PR and build a legal defense.”
Jacob’s eyes narrowed. He looked suspicious. “So why are you still here then, Sol?” he asked.
The words burned insult in her chest. Why are you still here, stinging fresh and hot, because it was a fair question. It was the most fair question. Unlike any of these people, she had a family outside that she still loved. Her sister, and her parents. She should have told John and all of the Seeds to go fuck themselves, to enjoy the end of the world, while she went to be with her family.
But she wasn’t. She was here. Doing—this. Finding fresh new ways for Joseph to connect with his people to keep their morale high, keeping the infighting at bay to make sure they looked like a united front to everyone, second doomsday cult included.
“My parents will take care of Avery. You know they’re close with—government,” she replied after a minute, shaking off the unease. “And I told John that I would.”
He snorted. “John says jump, you ask how high?”
“No,” she bit out, “I say jump and you kiss the fucking ground I’m standing on because I cobbled together what the fuck is left of your congregation.” Before Jacob could say anything, Isolde added, “My hands are full, Jake. Do not add to my pile.”
Dark brows furrowed, his mouth thinning in disdain. He clearly wanted to say something. But true to his nature, Jacob straightened back and settled himself before he said, “Fine.”
“Fine?”
“Fine,” he reiterated with his eyes narrowed. “I’m going to the Veteran’s Center.”
“That doesn’t sound like where we heard about the killings happening last,” Isolde protested, eyes narrowing.
“But she was there,” he replied. “Or someone was. Someone was there enough to steal my files.”
“Your—” Isolde snapped her mouth shut, sucking her teeth as she glanced back at Joseph and Faith; haloed in the dim lighting of the chapel, she could see them looking back at Jacob and herself expectantly. She wondered how much they could hear, from there.
Turning her attention back to Jacob and pitching her voice down in volume, Isolde hissed, “I don’t think prioritizing files is the best move right now.”
“Thank you,” Jacob idled, “for your input.”
“Fuck you.”
“Have fun,” he added, opening the door and letting in a waft of biting, cold air, before gesturing to the Book of Joseph on the table that she’d had her nose stuck in. All the better to make Joseph’s sermons hit home harder, after all. “You know—with your light reading.”
Isolde narrowed her eyes, watching him trudge down the steps for just a second before she said, “Jacob—”
“Yes, Isolde?”
Her mouth pressed into a thin line. “Don’t get shot.”
For a moment, he looked almost surprised at her words—but it was only a moment before he said, “Don’t worry, I’m taking Vidal. He makes a suitable meatshield.”
“God, he’s a talker.”
A tiny ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of Jacob’s lips, before he said, “John and the deputy should be making their way here any day now.”
Isolde grimaced. “I was there for the phone call.”
“Are you going to leave?” Jacob pressed, expression stiffening again. “When he does?”
She paused, clearing her throat and shifting on her feet. I should, were the words that wanted to come out of her mouth. I should go. I only came down here because John wasn’t here. I should go, and get back to my life, and maybe get to my family and try to stay out of the crossfire and—
After a heartbeat, she said, “I don’t know.”
Jacob shrugged, as if to say, see? Told you, though to what he could be referring to, she had no idea; she only knew that she didn’t like the way he swung around and sauntered out of the chapel, leaving her alone in the tepid warmth with Joseph and Faith’s eyes on her in favor of the blistering cold outside. Snow had continued to dump throughout the day and night, and had only just let up recently; the members of Eden’s Gate—those who had survived the Family’s relentless assaults, and those that had been pulled from the bunkers—had been tirelessly shoving pathways, only to have their work tidily undone each night.
Fingers brushed the palm of her hand. Isolde startled; she glanced back just as fingers interlaced with hers to be met with sweet, bright eyes and Faith’s adoring attention planted on her.
“It means so much to me,” Faith murmured, “that you would help. Not just me, but all of us.”
Soli watched the blonde for a moment, trying to gauge. The physical closeness was not something she was accustomed to; carefully, she disentangled their fingers, skin prickling with unease. When she glanced up, Joseph’s eyes were on them, on Faith’s fingers falling from her hand but skimming the inside of her palm in a lingering touch of affection.
He was always doing that. Watching. Watching, and waiting, and pinning each movement and gesture and thought and word out perfectly like the wings of a butterfly, just the color he liked and just the shape.
“Don’t thank me,” Isolde replied, mustering a smile and brushing the hair from her face.
“It’s my job.”
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“Hey, Miss Honey, John!”
Wyatt’s cheerful voice broke through the late-afternoon chill; the sun setting early, people’s breath coming out in puffs of smoke. It all felt oddly normal, given the circumstances of the morning and the way she’d forgotten to call Sylvia once she got home, and that her friend had fished up a reason to come by the house and make sure she hadn’t—
Well.
Still, if there was any remnant of the morning in Sylvia’s heart, it didn’t show in her face, and it certainly didn’t show in Wyatt’s. Instead, both blondes beamed at her, radiant, the second she came out with fuzzy, fresh-from-the-blow-dryer hair and swaddled up to her chin in thick fabrics to fend off the cold.
And, truthfully, to hide the bump. John had reminded her of it, and even though the moment had been a...good one, it had also reminded her she hadn’t expressed this truth to Sylvia or Wyatt. As John closed the door behind her and jogged down the steps,
“Howdy,” Ell greeted, albeit a bit awkwardly thanks to her stuck-somewhere-nowhere-sort-of-accent. “You didn’t have to drive it back all the way out here, you know.”
“Sure we did.” Wyatt chirped. “Wouldn’t be very neighborly of us if we let it sit and the battery died out, now would it?”
“No,” John demurred after a moment even as Elliot’s cheeks went warm, “I suppose not.”
“You all recovered from this morning?” Via asked cheerfully, purposefully avoiding the actual question. Elliot shifted on her feet. John’s hand skimmed the small of her back, and even through the layers of fabric, it felt warm; she wondered if this was what it would have been like for them, had their life been normal. Had John been truthful with her from the get-go. Now, with everything laid out between them—the lies unearthed and only the brutal, unapologetic knowledge that they wanted each other, in one way or another—it felt like they might have been normal. Sometime, somewhere, someplace else.
It was still hard to swallow, all of it. The lies and the now-truths and the knowledge that she did, in fact, want.
“Oh, yeah,” Ell replied faintly. “Took a bath and...” She tried for a smile. “Decompressed.”
“That what smells so good?”
“Y’all get that tired from dress shoppin’?” Wyatt tsked, having pulled his coat out of the jeep and started to pull it on. He grinned at her and skillfully dodged a side-swipe from Sylvia; he had a good foot of height on her—and Elliot—so it wasn’t difficult. The siblings fussed for only a moment before Sylvia managed to fetch the Jeep’s keys from Wyatt’s coat pocket and held them out to Elliot, puffing.
She was in the middle of saying, “Your keys, madame,” when John’s head tilted and he muttered, “Now what is this?”, drawing her attention to the end of the drive. A police cruiser made its way slowly down the drive, carefully pulling up behind the Jeep.
Not beside it. Not further up toward the garage, not on the other side of the four of them chatting. Behind it. Blocked in.
Sheriff Pritchard stepped out, shuffling a little as he adjusted the black, fur-trimmed jacket on his shoulders and closed the driver side door. He’d come alone, which made Elliot certain he wasn’t here to arrest her—and what a ludicrous thought, that he might have considered it a possibility, because the mere mental image of Pritchard grabbing her arm and keeping his eyes in his head made a hysterical kind of laugh want to bubble out of her.
Not me, not me and not my baby, that thing inside of her said, lifting its hackles and baring its teeth when Pritchard began to saunter over. Not my baby.
“Afternoon, you two. And Wests,” Pritchard greeted as he drew closer. He’d earned himself a curious murmur from Sylvia. “Havin’ a little shindig out here, Miss Honeysett?” Elliot opened her mouth to respond, but he lifted his hands quickly in defense. “‘M sorry, forgot myself. Mrs. Seed.”
It caught her off-guard, sucked the air right out of her lungs. It was one thing to hear her mother say John is Elliot’s husband, to hear her say John is my son-in-law, but it was another entirely to hear herself referred to as Mrs. Seed. It had never, ever been that she was John’s wife, except out of his own mouth, but now—
John seemed eager to engage with Pritchard, because he said, “Something that you needed, sheriff?”
“Yes, actually. Believe it or not, I ain’t in the business of drivin’ out to the rich part of town just for shits and giggles,” Pritchard replied coolly. “Your mama home, Elli?”
“Probably resting,” Sylvia offered, smiling politely. “We just finished dress shoppin’ for her Christmas Party not but an hour ago.”
“Yeah,” Pritchard rumbled, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. “Heard about your little trip to the boutique today.”
John asked irritably, “Do you need to smoke that right now?”
Elliot swallowed thickly. Her lashes fluttered, eyes desperate to close; the warmth that had flooded her face now felt like it verged on feverish, threatening to make her head swim again. This was bad. This was bad-bad, chop her hair off and run run run again bad, the kind of bad that made a girl change her name and burn her birth certificate and make sure that nobody would ever be able to find her again.
“I don’t,” she began, “think mama’s feeling up to visitors right now.”
Pritchard eyed her, taking a puff of his cigarette while completely glazing over John’s pointed question. “Imagine not. You know, you been a hot topic of conversation lately, Mrs. Seed. Gotten loads of questions about you. Lady from out of town, Federal Marshals. I don’t like folks sniffin’ around my town, you know, especially not the fuckin’ Feds, but it’s gotta make me wonder.” The smoke curled out from his nose, the smoke of a lazy, self-righteous dragon wafting around her.
“Sheriff,” John continued tightly, clearing his throat, “you’re going to need to put that out.”
“We’re outside, Mr. Seed. You ain’t ever seen someone smoke a cigarette outside?”
“Do you make a habit of smoking around pregnant women?” John snapped viciously, and oh, she thought, oh, I didn’t even think of that, because her brain was too busy kicking into overdrive and parse out the absolute confirmation that Federal Marshals were asking after her and strange women, too. Oh, I didn’t even think about the baby.
And then Sylvia said, eyes wide as saucers as she laughed, flustered, “Oh, John, that’s very kind of you, but I’m not—” and her eyes landed on Elliot, and she blinked rapidly.
Wyatt was looking at her, too. Big, big eyes, surely having not only learned that she and John were married but that she was also pregnant in the span of only a few minutes. At least, Elliot didn’t think Sylvia would have divulged that information, and if the shock he was clearly trying to cover up in his expression was any indication, that gut feeling was right.
No, she thought, no, this is not what I wanted. This is not what I wanted at all. It wasn’t his to tell, it wasn’t his to tell, it was mine, my choice, mine alone.
Her gaze snapped to Pritchard. She said, “It’s time for you to leave.”
Pritchard lifted his eyebrows. “That so? Well, good for me I ain’t here to talk to you, missy.”
“Get. Off. My. Property,” she bit out through her teeth. “Scarlet isn’t taking visitors, and I’ll cut the decay out of my own teeth before she makes anything close to the time of day for you.”
Now, his eyes narrowed and the cigarette sat between his fingers, still burning amber at the end. “Excuse me?”
“And tell the fucking Feds whatever you want,” she snapped, fingers curled tightly around the keys until the metal edges dug into the nooks and crannies of her hand. “But whatever you do, get the fuck out of my driveway, sheriff.”
Something flickered in the corner of her vision. John started, “Ell,” and his hand went to her shoulder, but she jerked back from him before he could make much more than a brush of contact.
“Don’t,” Elliot snapped at him, her voice wobbling and the tears—shameful tears—welling up and burning, “touch me.”
“Alright, okay,” Sylvia murmured, “Elliot and I are gonna go inside, and John can—”
“Ain’t here to talk to Mr. Seed,” Pritchard drawled venomously.
“If you’re asking questions about Elliot,” Sylvia replied calmly, taking Elliot’s hand with a firm squeeze, “I can imagine there is no better person to ask than her husband, don’t you think so, Sheriff?”
Pritchard’s eyes were squinted into poisonous little slits, and he took a long drag of his cigarette.
“Mrs. Honeysett won’t be any type of cooperative if you get her up now,” Wyatt chimed in, eyes flickering nervously to Elliot—perhaps both because of the news and because of her outburst. But she didn’t have time to think much about it, because Sylvia was tugging her out of the cluster of folks, ginger and reassuring even as her brother plunged on, “I mean, sheriff, come on—you know how women can be when they’re gotten up too early, let alone they’ve been shoppin’ all day—”
And Pritchard said, “You want I should put my cigarette out now, Mr. Seed?” as Sylvia opened the door,
and John replied with a slick, charismatic kind of venom, “No reason to anymore, smoke to your heart’s content,”
and the door clicked shut behind her and Boomer scampered out from where he’d been snoozing under the dining table.
She had to leave.
She had to go.
She had to get out.
Federal Marshals and strange women asking after her, and now her only two friends in the whole fucking world—
(well, not entirely true, since we still have Pratt, isn’t that right? Isn’t that right, Elli?)
—had just seen her almost go fucking bananas on an officer of the law, had watched her demand he get the fuck out of her driveway for wanting to ask her mother about her, had seen her.
“Hey,” Sylvia said, “you’re alright.”
I’m not, she thought, dropping the keys into the crystal bowl by the door, smearing red against the glass. Her hand stung. She reached with the good, unmarked hand for Boomer absently. His cold, wet nose brushed against it, and he whined, feet tapping against the wood as he bumped her for her attention. I won’t go. I won’t fucking go. I won’t pay the price for what they did to me, what they made me into.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted out abruptly, her voice coming out tight. “Sorry that I didn’t—um, tell you. About the—”
“It’s okay,” Sylvia told her quickly, “it’s alright, Elli, it’s not a big deal. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”
Elli, she said, without knowing what the nickname meant. Elli, Sylvia said, it’s alright, and Joey, right now we need to leave, Elli, and Pratt, geez, Elli, slow down, an affectionate nickname saved only for folks who considered her their friend. Sans Pritchard. Fuck Pritchard.
“Lots of people wait to tell,” Via continued, one hand coming to rest on her shoulder and jarring her out of her thoughts, which were quickly and rapidly devolving back into the urge to march outside and ensure Pritchard was obeying her command. Out out out, something vicious inside of her demanded, we want him out we want him gone.
Elliot said, “Yeah, you’re right,” but she felt far away—not lost, not gone from herself, but thinking. She could pack fast. She could pack fast, and John had brought barely anything, and they could leave right now, her mother none the wiser. They could leave now and be gone and Cameron Burke would have to—
But are we sure it’s Burke? Are we sure it’s Burke and not someone else, come to haul your ass to a fucking psych ward, for what you did in Hope County?
For what you did?
No. She wasn’t sure. She could only hope it was one singular Federal Marshall on her tail, and not an actual piece of the government body. That was all.
But whoever it was that was asking after her—strangers, government officials—it didn’t matter. That old mantra had kicked in again; something has to be done, the same kind of calm before the storm that she’d felt when Joey had been killed, something has to be done.
Something has to be done and I’m going to have to be the one to fucking do it.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Pritchard dropped the cigarette into the snow and stamped it out with his bootheel, his eyes fixed on John. Sylvia had rushed Elliot inside, but he didn’t think that had been purely necessary—only in the instance they had wanted to keep Pritchard out of a blood bath. Elliot hadn’t been checking out, trying to keep herself together; she had been angry, and he’d had half a mind to let her say and do exactly as she pleased to the man now standing in front of him in the cold.
“She always been that volatile, Mr. Seed?” the sheriff asked.
“Not undeservingly,” John replied tartly, his eyes narrowed. “Did you have specific questions, sheriff, or did you just come by to terrorize my pregnant wife with your theoretical judgment of her soul?”
“More your speed?” Pritchard replied, lifting a brow.
“Pardon?”
“Heard about you Seed boys,” he continued coolly, “and your...” He gestured with a calloused hand vaguely, looking for the right word.
John smiled, with teeth. “Before I grow old, if you don’t mind, sheriff.”
“Proclivities,” Pritchard elaborated, “for religion.”
Fucking Burke, he thought, with no absence of venom; fucking Burke can’t resist the urge to try and fuck up my life when he’d be better off trying to find a place to hunker down for the end of the world.
“We’re red-blooded Americans,” John idled coolly, “freedom of religion goes hand in hand with that.”
“Mr. Pritchard, you wanna get that car started?” Wyatt cut in abruptly, glancing around like he thought maybe the rest of the patrol might be rolling in any minute. “It doesn’t sound like you’ve got any questions for Mr. Seed.”
“That���s sheriff to you, boy,” he snapped. And then, after a heartbeat, he fished his keys out of his pocket and said, “I s’pose I got all the information I needed, after all.”
“Mmhm.”
John had turned back to the house, spotting Elliot and Sylvia through the front window, when Pritchard announced, “You make sure Scarlet gives me a call when she’s recovered from your wife’s antics, Mr. Seed.”
His gaze returned to the sheriff, narrowed. “Certainly, Sheriff Pritchard.”
“But if I don’t hear from you, no worries,” the man continued, opening his car door, “I’ll make another special trip out here.”
“Goody.”
John flashed another grin when Pritchard’s eyes flickered over him. Wyatt said, “Have a safe drive,” and Pritchard slammed his door shut, his cruiser’s engine roaring to life before he began to slowly back out and make a u-turn to head down the long driveway again. There was a moment of silence, stretching between himself and Wyatt that he didn’t feel particularly inclined to break—after all, Wyatt had been taking liberties with Elliot that he shouldn’t have been—before the blonde finally broke the silence.
“Congrats,” Wyatt said after a minute. “About—uh, the baby, I mean. I didn’t know!”
Ah, he thought, feeling a strange little surge of pride at the way the man across from him shifted on his feet with discomfort, and that’s why Elliot’s mad I brought it up. Her friends didn’t know.
Well, it was better this way, after all. He wouldn’t have taken it back even if he’d gotten the chance, knowing what he did now.
“Thank you,” he replied amiably. “It’s certainly a blessing.”
Wyatt’s mouth twisted for a moment, looking like there was something he wanted to say specifically and didn’t know how to say it without foregoing social niceties, but the sound of the front door opening caught both of their attentions.
“Wyatt, you gonna stand out here like a lemming all afternoon or what?” Via called. “Get the car warmed up, you caveman.” She took a few steps down the front stairs and looked at John. “You’re wanted inside, Mr. Seed.”
A very polite way of telling him that Elliot, perhaps, was in the mood to throttle him with her bare hands. Though he didn’t really see the harm in spilling the news—perhaps with Via, sure, but Wyatt? The cowboy? Like that was ever going to be anything.
“Thanks for your help,” John said, clapping Wyatt on the shoulder before he made his way to the front steps. Via hadn’t moved. In fact, her normally polite expression was eerily cool—whatever amicable, feigned interest she had manicured for him in the past seemed to have evaporated in the wake of Elliot’s own fury.
As he neared, he said, “Something else you needed, Miss West?”
Via’s eyes narrowed. She looked at Wyatt, now inside the car, and then back to John. “You must think I’m mighty dumb, don’t you?”
John lifted an eyebrow inquisitively. “If you think I instigated that little outburst on purpose—”
“What I think,” Via replied, “is that you know exactly what she’s capable of handling. Just because you didn’t do it on purpose doesn’t mean you weren’t thinking of letting her physically assault a police officer.”
His easy-going expression flattened. Sylvia, and her seeing, the same kind of uncanny people-reading skills that Joseph had, too. Seeing his delight at knowing that Elliot would have taken on a man a foot taller than her, pregnant, if it meant keeping him away from the baby, if it meant keeping herself out of the grip of a greater power that wanted her in a psychiatric evaluation.
“I want to like you,” Via continued, taking the steps until she reached the bottom, “and I thought maybe you were here to make a real effort. But it seems like you’re the same person you were before, John Duncan.”
The name sent a jolt of red-hot anger flushing down his spine, filling him up suddenly with a sort of molten rage that only the reminder of his adoptive parents could have inspired in him. When Via went to move past him, he snatched her elbow, holding her in place.
“And where,” he ground out, “did you hear that name, Miss West?”
“It’s called a web browser, John,” Via replied coolly. “You ever heard of Google? Imagine how many John Seeds there are in Hope County, Montana. I don’t need to tell you that the articles regarding you and your brothers, though a bit old, are unflattering. And all I want you to know—” She paused, arm still in his grip. “—is that we’re aware of each other, and that I don’t want anything happening to Elliot.”
“Neither do I,” John replied tightly, “and I especially don’t want someone digging trenches where there’s not a war zone.”
Via regarded him with an even gaze for a moment, glancing back at the car where her brother sat, before she murmured idly, “Kindly take your hand off of my arm, John.”
“Ellliot’s already aware of the any of the information in those articles,” he continued lowly, “just so you know.”
“My point, John,” Via replied casually, “is that I know, and I can—and will—deal with it as I see fit. Now, you gonna take your fuckin’ hand off of my arm, or are we going to have a problem?”
He watched her for a moment—just long enough to consider the dopamine rush of killing her, grabbing a fistful of her hair and slamming her face into the top of the porch, doing something, anything to ensure that Sylvia West was not capable of messing up anything that he was doing—and then he planted a big smile on his face and dropped his hand from her arm.
“Careful,” he said, louder now so that Wyatt would hear, “it’s icy.”
The blonde didn’t respond. Instead, she brushed her hand absently where his had been, as though to brush herself free of his touch, and picked her way across the driveway and to the truck idling just on the other side of the jeep.
Well, that would be one less problem to deal with, in the end.
John made his way inside, closing the front door quietly behind himself and taking a moment to gauge. Just to see what was going on. The house itself was quiet, and Boomer’s little footfalls were nowhere to be heard, and Scarlet wasn’t sipping her vodka in the living room—so.
So.
So.
Taking a breath, he started up the stairs, turning into the hall to find Elliot’s bedroom door halfway ajar. He paused in the doorway; she was rifling through drawers, pulling sweaters and long-sleeved shirts and jeans and sweats out and dropping them into a duffel bag, furious little exhales occasionally coming out of her.
“I was told I was being summoned,” John said, Elliot’s attention razor-sharp and snapping to him immediately.
“Pack your shit,” she said briskly, “we’re leaving.”
He blinked. Taking a step inside, he glanced at Boomer—perched protectively between himself and Elliot—and said, “I thought we were waiting until after the Christmas party?”
“You’re not fucking deaf, John, you heard Pritchard,” she snapped. “The Feds have been asking about me. The only reason they don’t know exactly where to look—whoever it is—is because Pritchard’s a fucking asshole and likes to be as obstinate as possible.”
“And if we sprint out of here,” he replied, “you’re just going to draw their attention.”
“It’s what Pritchard wants.” Elliot zipped the duffel bag shut and then brushed past him into the bathroom, gathering up her toothbrush and toothpaste and the sleeping pills. “For me to be gone. He’ll piss off if I go. And there’s no way he’s going to put up a big fight to cozy up to the government.”
“Elliot.” John watched her furiously gathering things up, and then when she came by again he caught her with his hands. “Ell, just slow down—”
“Stop,” she bit out, “stop telling me what to fucking do, John, and—I told you not to touch me.”
He lifted his hands from her, but not far enough that she could duck past. “Are you that mad about Sylvia and Wyatt knowing you’re pregnant?” When she didn’t answer, and instead hauled the bag over from the other side of the bed to be close to her so that she could dump the collections from the bathroom into it, he sighed. “I didn’t know you hadn’t told them, but I don’t understand what all of the secrecy is about. The baby isn’t—”
“I felt normal!” Elliot replied sharply, her voice pitching a little higher now, and John heard the wet wobble in it too—the way the timbre of her voice thickened and rounded out with the threat of oncoming tears, her cheeks flushed with anger and maybe shame and pain, too. “Okay? I felt—I f-fucking felt normal, for once, and it was enough that Sylvia knew you and I had been—that we’re married, which I don’t even want to dig into right now, but it was another to be like—yes, the father of my fucking child, who I’m actually married to even though I didn’t want it, is here and oh, by the way? He’s part of a cult. Yeah, a fucking doomsday cult. I’m carrying the child of a doomsday cultist.”
“How was I supposed to know?” he demanded. “How was I supposed to know that you didn’t want Sylvia and her brother knowing you were pregnant? You never said. And what does it matter?” And then, feeling the petulance well up inside of him: “I know it probably felt nice, to have Wyatt giving you attention—”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” she asked, incredulous. “You’re really pulling that now? So, what—you dumped the news because you wanted to make sure my friend found me as off-limited as possible?”
John crossed his arms over his chest. “I know this may come as a shock to you,” he said, feeling the tension peeling apart behind his eyelids, “I really didn’t want Pritchard smoking near my baby.”
“My baby.” Elliot jammed her finger into his chest, just above his heart, her words vicious. “It’s our baby, or it’s my baby, but there isn’t a single fucking universe where the only person this baby is beholden to is you.”
“He’s,” John corrected, tartly. “He’s our baby. And at the end of the day, whether you like it or not—”
“Have you ever,” she cut in over him, biting the words out between her teeth, “done anything for me that wasn’t for you too?”
Watching her, the words sat sticky in his chest. His instinct was to say, of course I have, but that wasn’t true. Of course it wasn’t. And he wasn’t going to pretend like it was, either—because he wasn’t ashamed that everything he had done had been for them, that if Elliot wasn’t his then there would be no point in it, that it was a zero sum game where he either had her or he had nothing.
He said, evenly, “No.”
Elliot looked unseated by his honesty. She swept her fingers across her forehead tiredly and turned back to her bag. “Then do me a favor and pack your shit so we can go.”
John sighed. “Don’t you think—”
“John,” she bit out, “I am making an executive decision.”
“Alright, Ell.”
“And—”
John had turned to the door to go gather what few of his belongings he’d had when Elliot cut herself off, drawing his eyes over his shoulder to her again. She looked unwell—stressed, feverish, her hands buried into the duffel bag maybe to hide the shaking and her face flushed and her brows furrowed together.
“Thank you,” she managed out after a minute, “for being honest. For once.”
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Pratt brushed the snow from his hair, teeth chattering as he waded through knee-deep snow out towards the water. It had been three days, and Helmi had told him to meet her out there—how she was going to get past the compound’s security, Pratt didn’t know, but he also thought it probably was best not to dwell on the things that Helmi would do (and could do) to get where she needed to be.
Which is why he found himself less and less surprised to find her standing at the edge of the water, in the middle of the night, swathed up to her jaw in dark, heavy fabrics. The only part of her that wasn’t covered were her hands; the closer he got, he could see she was turning a smooth, dark rock over and over in her hands, passing it between them as she watched him come nearer.
“You remembered,” was how she greeted him, most of her face cast in shadow thanks to the high position of the moon behind her. Pratt shivered and jammed his hands into his coat pockets.
“Yeah, well, kinda hard to forget,” he replied. “Considering it’s been looming over me for the last few days.”
“Poor thing,” Helmi agreed, not sounding sympathetic at all. “Did you call her?”
Pratt paused, clearing his throat. There was something that didn’t quite sit right with him, knowing that he had called Elliot not out of a cry for her help—not really, anyway—but because this other cult wanted her. This cult, which had tore its way through Hope County splitting and gutting its residents, wanted her. And Helmi didn’t seem keen on telling him why.
“I did. They just got word that she and John are on the road now,” he said after a moment. “What, uh—do you want her for, anyway?”
Helmi quirked a brow at him, the corner of her mouth tilting upwards. “Shouldn’t you have asked that before making the phone call, if it was going to bother you?”
A little lick of shame and embarrassment crawled red-hot into his cheeks, and he scoffed, turning his face away. “Well, you said you wanted her alive. Can’t say the same for the Seeds.”
“She’s carrying John’s child,” Helmi pointed out. “You think they’d kill her still?”
Pratt grimaced. It was still hard to stomach—the idea that Elliot was with John. Or had been, at one point. It didn’t sound like things were going great, and he could only imagine why. Still—
Still, he thought there was a lesser of the two evils, and Helmi sounded like it. Maybe not the others, but Helmi.
“They don’t have a problem killing babies,” Pratt replied after a minute. “What are you going to do, once she gets here? They won’t let her leave, and they definitely won’t let you in.”
Now, the blonde grinned—pearly teeth in the dark of the night, surprisingly satisfied with herself. “Big one’s pissed at me, isn’t he?”
“Yeah. Well, you know, Faith too. You've been killing her angels.”
She shrugged. “I’ve got a plan. You know exactly as much as you need to know right now. Are you eating?”
The question came so quickly that Pratt didn’t have time to register the oddness of it, replying on automatic the same way he had been with Arden’s consistent, gentle pestering: “Yeah, I mean—don’t have much of an appetite, but...”
His voice trailed off and he glanced back at the woman. Her head was cocked and her eyes were fixed on him expectantly. “What?”
“Eat,” she told him. “Take advantage of as much as you can. And most of all, listen. Any information you can get will be helpful.”
Pratt’s throat felt a little tight. He kept thinking about the way Jacob had grabbed his shoulder, laughing when he’d insulted the woman doing the heavy lifting for Joseph—grinning like a fucking wolf, like he was going to be dinner, next.
He managed out, “He’ll kill me. If he suspects. He’ll take—everything, from me.”
Helmi planted a hand on his shoulder. The gesture made him want to flinch, but he bit back the urge, and he thought maybe she’d seen but didn’t say.
“He already took everything from you,” she replied lightly, “and do you know what that means?”
The dark of her gaze was intense, piercing even in the late night; it made it hard to look away. Voices echoed back in the compound, and briefly, he thought maybe they’d noticed his absence—but he only shook his head.
“It means you have nothing to lose,” Helmi murmured, “and everything to take back from him.” Her hand moved from his shoulder to the back of his neck, the pad of her thumb sweeping up to his pulsepoint pensively. “See? Your heart is beating, and hard. Your blood knows it’s what you want, even if you don’t yet.”
Swallowing thickly, he nodded his head once. Nothing to lose, and everything to take back. Could he? Could he get things back? Is that what Helmi had done? What Elliot had done?
“And don’t fuck it up,” she added, dropping her hand from his neck and zipping her coat up. Leaving so soon. She grinned. “Or I’ll gut you myself. And I guarantee, it won’t be an Återfödelse.”
A nervous, almost hysterical little laugh bubbled up out of him. Helmi shot him a look and then brushed past him, heading back into where the brush became the thickest, calling over her shoulder, “See you in a few days, Staci Pratt.”
A few days. A few days, Elliot would be back, and John Seed would be back, and Helmi would be seeing him. Seeing them. Maybe it would be better to make a break with Elliot, once she got in—but what if she didn’t want to? What if she was one of them?
Pratt let out a puff of hot breath, digging the heel of his palm into his eyesocket while the pain bloomed just there, turning and beginning to trudge back to the compound before anyone noticed his absence. Each scrape and puff of snow fell in line with his heartbeat, the mantra on and off again.
Nothing to lose.
Everything to take back.
#my writing#far cry 5 fic#fc5 fic#john seed/female deputy#john seed x female deputy#fic: witching hour#ch: elliot honeysett#ch: john seed#ch: joseph seed#ch: isolde khan#ch: jacob seed#ch: staci pratt#ch: helmi#hrghrhgrgh#gang's almost all together#and then i won't be tagging them all lmao#filing cabinet can suffer#thank you thank you thank you to everyone who cheered me on#had a bit of a breakdown last week and came back with a fresh head#so i feel really pleased!#ch: faith seed
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Frustrations
Summary: Frustrated that Ethan won't let their relationship develop, will MC find some time alone with Bryce too much of a temptation? Rewrite of Bk 1 Ch 11 Bryce scene.
Book/Pairing: Open Heart/Bryce x MC / Ethan x MC (Cecilia Gibson)
Category/Rating: Smut/Explicit
Word Count: 1.7k
Authors notes: I thought I'd try something a bit different for this fic. I had an idea in mind, but I'm not sure if it has come out as I'd hoped 🤣
I have included this weeks @wackydrabbles prompt Hold still
Also inspired by @choicesmonthlychallenge prompt Day 18: Waiting
Characters and some dialogue owned by pixelberry
Cecilia never meant to fall for Ethan Ramsey.
She had always admired his work and had been hugely inspired by him, but a romantic relationship wasn't something that had ever crossed her mind - she hadn't even known what he looked like before her first day at Edenbrook.
When she first met him his condescending behaviour had actually led her to think that he was a bit of an asshole - admittedly she didn't realise it was him at that point, but he definitely hadn't left a good first impression.
It didn't take long for her opinion of him to change though. Working together when Dolores came in and then trying to help Naveen had brought them much closer together than either of them could have imagined. What was blossoming between them certainly wasn't a normal attending/intern relationship.
When they finally kissed in Miami, she'd hoped that it would be the start of something between them. They had got so close to ending up in bed together—something she had been fantasising about for some time—but Ethan had stopped things going any further and she had been feeling frustrated ever since.
A few days after returning from Miami, she had questioned Ethan about what was happening between them.
"Be honest...about us," she said.
"I'm...not sure what you mean," he replied, avoiding her eyes.
"I think you know exactly what I mean."
He turned his back to her and she walked up close behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Please Cecilia, this is hard enough already."
"Then why keep fighting it? We both want this. We both feel this. It almost seems inevitable..."
He turned to her, his eyes filled with longing...and pain.
Reaching up, he gently stroked her cheek. "We're doctors, Cecilia. Fighting the inevitable is our job description."
Without another word he walked past her and out of the lab. She hung her head—her heart sinking—as the sound of his footsteps faded away.
She couldn't deny the hurt she felt. Even though part of her understood his reasoning, she couldn't just pretend there wasn't a connection between them.
---
Several nights later Cecilia was at home in her apartment researching Rhodes disease for Mrs Martinez. Her friends had volunteered to help and several hours had passed when her reading was interrupted by snoring. She looked up to see that everyone had fallen asleep, except for Bryce.
"And then there were two," he smiled before looking back down at his research. "Wait a second...Cecilia, come look at this."
"What'd you find?" she asked, taking a seat next to him.
"Wound up on a message board. Looks like a pissed off employee leaked some old R&D memos from Panacea Labs...Check it out. It says a drug used for Huntington's cured some test subjects of Rhodes disease."
"If they've found a cure...why isn't it on the market?"
"This is pretty recent...Human trails can take years before a new drug gets F.D.A approval."
"Bryce, you found the answer!" Overwhelmed with excitement, she threw her arms around him and he hugged her back tightly.
The hug lingered and she feel reluctant to let go of him...
"I dunno about you, but I feel like celebrating," he whispered.
She looked into his eager eyes, knowing exactly how he wanted to celebrate.
If she went along with this she knew she may end up regretting it. Her feelings for Ethan were undeniable and there was definitely more to it than just a sexual attraction. But their interactions over the past few weeks had left her so confused and sexually frustrated that she was seriously considering taking Bryce up on his offer. She didn't know if Ethan would even allow anything to happen between them in the future and she couldn't wait around for him forever.
It wasn't as though Bryce was a random stranger. He was a good guy...kind...sexy. They had already been physical with each other before—after her housewarming party—so she knew he could definitely help release some of her frustrations there and then.
She gave him a smirk as she made her decision.
She grabbed Bryce's hand and led him to the bathroom. They bumped hard into the door as she pulled him in for a passionate kiss.
"Shh, don't wake the others up."
"I'm not the one you're gonna have to worry about," he teased.
He pinned her against the closed bathroom door and kissed her, while she pulled off his shirt.
His strong hands roamed her body, gliding under her clothes, trying to feel every part of her.
"Pent up much?"
"I'm always pent up when I see you," he replied.
She could feel the blush reaching her cheeks.
"Before we go any further, you should know...we have to keep this casual."
She knew this probably didn't need to be said, Bryce was a casual sort of guy, but she didn't need any extra drama in her life right now.
"No strings...fine by me," he grinned, pulling her clothes over her head.
She kissed up his neck and across his smooth jawline as she undid his trousers and pushed them to the ground.
She snapped the band of his underwear with a cheeky smile before sliding her hands beneath the fabric.
"I really don't need to keep those on," he whispered.
She kissed his chest as she slid his underpants down, her fingers brushing against him.
"Agreed..."
The sight of him standing to attention for her was a massive turn on.
She kissed him again as she took hold of him, enjoying the way his breath stopped and started as she pumped his length.
"Who has magic hands now?"
"You're giving me a run for my money," he replied before pulling her bra down and kissing and licking his way across her breasts.
A moan was the only sound she could make as a shiver ran throughout her entire body.
"How 'bout we have some good clean fun," he said pushing her backwards, guiding her toward the shower.
She turned to step in.
"Wait, hold still, "he grabbed her hand to stop her. "Before we get in, I want to get a proper look at you."
He spun her back to face him, before looking her up and down—eyes filled with lust.
"You're gorgeous," he stated while flashing her a grin.
She couldn't help but giggle. "You're quite the charmer Lahela."
Continuing into the shower, Bryce gently pushed her against the shower wall, turning on the tap. Warm water poured down on them as he kissed her, his hands exploring her body.
She returned the favour, running her hands over his slippery muscles.
Bryce reached between her legs and began to move his fingers, slowly but surely. She let out a moan.
"I told you I wasn't the one you had to worry about making noise..."
"I don't think I care anymore..."
She leaned her head against the shower wall and sighed as Bryce's hands worked their magic, circling round her most sensitive part. His lips traced across her collarbone as he dipped a finger inside her.
Her breathing grew heavier as he added another finger.
"Bryce...I need more..."
He gripped her by the back of the thighs and lifted her, pinning her high against the cold tiles.
She sighed with pleasure as she wrapped her legs around his waist and he slid himself inside her.
A whisper of guilt flickered across her mind, but it was too late to take it back now, this was happening and she wanted to enjoy it. It felt too good not to.
She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing any doubts out of her head. Instead concentrating on the sensations, the pleasure.
Bryce moved his lips down her neck, softly sucking and kissing as he went.
For a brief moment her mind took her back to Miami where it was Ethan's lips on her neck, his stubble gently scratching her sensitive skin. She remembered the taste of wine on his tongue as his mouth crashed into hers.
She lifted a hand up and ran it through Bryce's hair, gripping tightly as her pleasure started to build.
He plunged himself deep inside her over and over again and she moved her hand down to his chest, feeling his heart thundering as she neared her climax. Her fingernails clawed into his back as she lost control.
"Yes Eth—, Bryce."
Fuck.
She clung on to him, breathing heavily as he thrust a few more times, until he got his own release.
As she came down from her high she cringed as she recalled the fact she had started calling out Ethan's name while having sex with someone else.
She slowly opened her eyes and looked at Bryce. He smiled at her and kissed her on the lips.
"That was amazing," he said.
"Yeah, it was," she replied through her heavy breathing.
Somehow she seemed to have got away with her slip up. Either he was too wrapped up in the moment to notice or he had decided not to mention it. Either way, she was extremely relieved.
He lowered her back down to the ground and they held each other close for a moment before getting dressed.
Bryce looked at the time, it was 2am.
"I'd better head home if I'm going to get any sleep before work tomorrow."
She grabbed his arm.
"You don't have to go, you could sleep here tonight."
He gave her a little smirk. "I think if I stayed here, you would prove to be way too distracting for either of us to get any sleep."
They both laughed.
"Okay, I'll walk you to the door."
They threw their clothes back on before stepping out into the corridor, where they could talk without waking the others.
"Thank you for tonight Bryce. For the help with the research and the...other thing. I really needed that."
He smiled broadly at her.
"Anytime, Gibson. And I mean it. Any time you need a special release, I'm there. Supply closet, on call room, gym, shower, locker room, your place, my place..."
"Yeah, okay Bryce," she chuckled, playfully pushing him away. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight Sien—, I mean Cecilia."
She tilted her head quizzically and he winked at her before turning to leave. Her eyes widened suddenly with realisation that she hadn't got away with her slip up after all.
Although she felt her face burn with embarrassment, she couldn't help but giggle to herself as she watched him walk down the corridor, before disappearing out of sight.
***
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#open heart fanfiction#ethan x mc#bryce lahela#bryce x mc#wacky drabbles#choices fic writers creations#fics of the week#ethan ramsey#choices monthly challenge#cecilia gibson
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You probably already know that Stockholm Syndrome is a term used to describe what happens when a kidnapped victim becomes emotionally attached to his or her captor. Do you know the origin of this condition?
The phrase Stockholm Syndrome was coined back in 1973 after a well televised bank robbery which gripped the entire country of Sweden. Armed with explosives and a submachine gun, a well-known paroled convict by the name of Jan-Erik Olsson robbed one of the largest banks in Stockholm, Sweden. He walked in right after the bank opened, screamed "the party has only started", shot at the ceiling, and forced 4 of the bank's young (and attractive) employees inside the bank's vault. The hostages were 3 women named Birgitta Lundblad, Elisabeth Oldgren, Kristin Ehnmark, and a man, Sven Safstrom. They remained in this vault from August 23rd till the 28th.
Olsson made his demands, the first of which being that his buddy, Clark Olofsson, must be released from prison to help him out; negotiators obliged. Olofsson was released from prison and driven to the bank where the two convicts reunited. Olsson wanted 3 million dollars in Swedish currency, this was quickly given- but police weren't as quick to give in to the rest of the demands: 2 bulletproof vests, helmets, and a fast vehicle to get away in.
At first the hostages were absolutely terrified, but within a day the group became very close friends; the 4 came to love and trust these 2 men beyond reason, and those feelings were reciprocated.
At one point the hostages left the vault to use the restroom and they had a chance to go safely to police. The hostages refused, went straight back to their captors. Police noticed that the hostages were outright hostile with them- not their captors!
A couple days in, the robbers told their male captive, Sven, that they had to shoot him. They said that they'd allow him to get drunk first, they would shoot him in the leg and make sure that the bullet didn't go through the bone. Being nice guys, they promised not to kill him. Well, it's not surprising that Sven freaked out- he didn't want to be shot, and the robbers decided not to go through with that plan. Sven later recounted an overwhelming feeling of gratitude to them for offering to shoot him in the leg! Hostage Kristin would later recall her frustration at Sven, thinking he should've gone through with it; that he was such a wimp. Kristin says she still feels bad over the way she treated Sven over this.
During negotiations, Kristin spoke on the telephone to the prime minister, Olof Palme. She begged for her captives to be allowed to go free- and that herself and the other 3 be allowed to leave with them! During this call she stated: "I'm not the least bit afraid of Clark and the other guy, I'm afraid of the police. Do you understand? I trust them completely. Believe it or not, but we've had a really nice time here". Even when Olsson used her as a shield and placed a bomb at Kristin's feet, she did not turn against him- she had complete trust in these men. And they had been nice to her- at one point when she was feeling claustrophobic Olssen tied a rope around her neck and allowed her to walk around. What a gentleman!
On the 6th day, the police decided enough was enough; they broke through the ceiling of the vault and dropped some tear gas inside to disarm the men. It was at this time that Olsson and Olofsson surrendered.
Once released- the hostages were actually sticking up for both Olsson and Olofsson; they sided with them! This was all law enforcement's fault! Kristin even went so far as to say that the tear gas used on them was attempted murder! The 4 sang their captor's praises, they absolutely refused to testify against them, and not only pleaded for their captors release from prison but they even raised money for decent defense lawyers!
Nonetheless, Olsson was sentenced to ten years for the situation, and Olofsson received 6 years for his part in the fiasco. The victims remained in contact, sharing letters with their captors for years and years.
Olssen would later say: "It was the hostages' fault. They did everything I told them to. If they hadn't, I might not be here now. Why didn't any of them attack me? They made it hard to kill. They made us go on living together day after day, like goats, in that filth. There was nothing to do but get to know each other."
So, as for the psychology behind this- Usually the victim feels like they're definitely going to die when first taken captive; maybe they've been tied up, threatened, even assaulted. Basic human rights like using the bathroom and food/water may be denied. The situation is extremely traumatic. When the captive is finally given back those rights which most of us take for granted, they feel very grateful. Then, over time, the victim will come to understand the reason for the hostages situation, and empathize with his or her captor; often they'll even take on the captor's mission as their own. Together victim and criminal will bond over injustices in the world- an "it's us against them" type of mentality. Once released often the victim will feel like they truly love their abuser, and that feeling is usually reciprocated.
#Stockholm#sweden#true crime#true crime junkie#true crime scene#true crime community#psychology#criminology#hostage
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