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theinternetisfulloftrash · 2 years

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Beaches and Bonfires

Pairing: Dylan O'Brien x Reader (ungendered) Synopsis: This ficlet was written as a part of my 1000 Follower Celebration and arguably took me WAY too long, but I really hope that @mychemicalsleep likes it :) They asked for soft, fluffy bonfire cuteness. Tags: Fluff, Domestic, Established Relationship, Teasing, Kissing, PDA Rating: General/Teen Author’s Note: I don't have a whole lot more to add, but this is cute and features brief mentions of his IRL friends and TONY! I know how we all like the Tony O'Brien content ;)

The sand was warm between your toes above the tideline as you watched Dylan splash through the shallow flood of the waves that washed over the beach with Tony. The sun hung low over the horizon, vibrant pink as it set into the sea. You’d spent most of the afternoon playing in the water with them, sitting under the shade of a well-placed umbrella after soaking in the California sun long enough to know that tomorrow you’d be sporting more than just a healthy glow.

You two were meeting friends in the evening for a bonfire, and Dylan had suggested that you head to the shore a little early. It had been too long since the two had taken time away from it all. Phone screens had been locked all day, tucked into one of his shoes and hidden under a towel, forgotten and unnecessary.

“Babe! Come on!” Dylan waved you toward them as Tony jumped up at his knees. Dylan was back peddling away from him, cooing at him in that adorable way any proud father would.

You smiled and followed them until Tony noticed your footfalls and spun around to run toward you. He lept at you, pawing at your thighs until you picked him up. He was wet and sandy in your arms as he lapped at your chin, panting and excited.

“Hey, boy,” Dylan said, walking toward you, flipping his hat around until it sat backward on his head. “That’s my job.” He smirked at you as he reached out to cup your shoulders before he leaned in close to kiss you.

His lips were soft, and the hint of salty seaspray on his skin only made the kiss even more intoxicating. His hand roamed up to the side of your throat, his fingers toying a bit with the damp, wavy ends of your hair. When you finally felt his lips slip from yours, the admiration and love for you were clear in his gaze, even through the tint of his sunglasses.

“We should head over,” he said before he pinned his lip between his teeth for a moment, his gaze shifting to your lips.

“Mmm,” you hummed, setting Tony back in the sand before you stood in front of him again. “Probably…” you agreed, stepping into his space and looping your arm around his waist, enjoying the way the heat of his skin felt on yours before your hand slid down his back until you had his ass in the palm of your hand.

“Oh ho!” he laughed, brushing your hair back from your shoulder, a wide smirk on his lips. “Other plans, huh?” he asked, wetting his lips with his tongue.

“What are the exact parameters of ‘fashionably late’?” you teased, squeezing your hand.

He winced, a playful smile baring his teeth for a moment before he spoke. “You mean before it’s ‘those assholes are late’?”

“Mmm,” you nodded, your gaze fixed on his mesmerizing mouth.

“Well…” he said, craning his neck back a bit as he knitted his hands together at your low back as you hooked your fingers into the pockets of his shorts. “Sarah said sunset…” he turned his head, looking out over the water at the tiny sliver of the sun that hadn’t yet tucked itself behind the waves.

You slumped a bit in his arms. “Fine…” you whined.

He chuckled a bit before Tony let out a little bark at his heel. “Alright, little man! We’re goin’...” Dylan kissed your forehead and let you out of his hold before he took your hand in his.

You gathered up your things from the beach and took them to the car. The two of you made the short drive down the road along the coast until you saw a small streak of smoke rising from the sand. Several cars were parked in the small dirt lot in the little seaside treasure you and your friends had named ‘The Hideaway’. It was tucked into a smaller cove near the larger, more well-known beach where you’d spent the day. There was a narrow sand beach, tall grass, and wildflowers, and just down the bank, surrounded by large pieces of gathered driftwood, a smoldering campfire rippled the air above it.

“Hey!” Sarah called as the two of you climbed down over the rocks to the beach, Dylan carrying Tony in his arms.

“Hey!” he said, smiling as he set Tony down in the sand, letting him rush to Sarah.

“Hey, Tony!” she said, squatting down to pet the excited pup. “So glad you guys could come tonight!” She smiled at you, leaning around Tony, who was lapping at her cheeks.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you said.

“Fine with being late though…” Dylan said under his breath before you elbowed him and he slid his sunglasses down his nose to smirk at you.

“Smells awesome! What’s roasting?” Dylan asked, taking your hand and walking toward the rest of your friends.

“Matt’s got some sausages going, and I think there might be a few potatoes baking in there somewhere.” She smiled, watching Dylan, who was practically drooling. “Hungry?”

“You could say that…” he replied, walking up to pat Matt on the shoulder and pull him into a quick hug. The two of them started to chat, and you turned to Sarah.

“He may have claimed he was ready to eat the headrest in the car on the way over here.”

She laughed and then gave you a solid hug. “I brought enough food to feed a small army, so your upholstery should be safe.”

You spent the next couple of hours eating and chatting, laughing and sharing stories before you split off into smaller groups. Sheela and Olivia were dancing in the sand near the fire, recording a TikTok with Sam's help. Matt and Logan were talking with Anna and Sarah, and the two of you had made your way to a blanket spread out on the sand under the stars.

Dylan sat propped up on an elbow, his legs stretched out in front of him, turned facing you. Tony was curled up behind his knees sleeping. Dylan rubbed his hand over his stomach.

“Full?” you asked, smiling up at him. You were lying on your back with his folded sweatshirt tucked under your head.

He nodded, puffing out his cheeks. “Stuffed.”

You laughed softly, admiring his features before the night sky behind him caught your eye. The stars were actually visible this far from the city, even brighter on this moonless night, and they sprayed across the inky black. You folded a hand behind your head and enjoyed the view.

“Beautiful…” Dylan said quietly.

“Aren’t they?” you said, tilting your head back to see more of the Milky Way’s mist.

“I wasn’t talking about the stars…” he whispered, reaching out to tuck an errant hair behind your ear.

You turned your attention back to him, to the soft smile on his face, to the way his eyes glinted in the flicker of the firelight.

He leaned in closer and cupped your cheek in his hand, his eyes fluttering shut when his nose brushed against yours. His lips met yours, soft and slow, but he liked kissing and he was rarely satisfied with just a peck. Kisses weren’t something he rushed. They were never perfunctory. He kissed with purpose.

You softened under his touch every time. It was like he was dosing you with a muscle relaxant. Tension eased from your shoulders and you were pliant in his hold. His smooth lips and respectful but rather insistent tongue never struggled to get what they wanted, because you wanted it too.

He leaned over you, looming above you before he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you tight to his chest deepening your kiss. The satisfied sound of a reverently exhaled breath into your mouth had you whimpering against his lips.

You slipped your hand under his loose-fitting tee and palmed the heat of his back, feeling his muscles tense under your fingertips when you dragged at his skin with your nails.

A few wolf whistles preceded a call out from Sam, “holy PDA! Damn!”

Your cheeks flushed with the heat of embarrassment. You two had lost yourself in one another, so easy to forget you weren’t alone when you’re under the influence of the other. You felt Dylan smile against your lips before he pulled back and looked behind you at your friends.

“Hey, Lerner?” Dylan asked, his long neck stretched out in front of you looking so irresistible it took all the self-control you had not to latch onto it.

“What’s up?”

He held a finger to his lips and hushed his friend like he was reprimanding a child before he flashed a wink and turned back to you. “Where were we?”

#Dylan O'Brien #dylan o'brien fanfiction #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan o'brien x reader #dylan o'brien x you #trashy writing #beaches and bonfires #1000 follower celebration #mychemicalsleep #tony o'brien #making in roads #mentions of IRL friends #logan lerman #sheela awe #olivia sui #sarah ramos #anna corrigan #matt spicer #sam lerner

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granolaspaceship · 2 years

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How to Dress for a Basement Rave

I’m sitting in a basement rave on a leather ottoman. I got my ticket last minute because I can’t plan anything, and because the friend who bought the ticket got COVID. The air is hot. The fog machine makes the hot air sticky. Everybody in the room is dressed according to their own needs and desires. Some more so in the direction of desire, and less in the direction of being dressed at all.

Anybody who thinks about the clothes they wear is going to try things. I can tell you I have looked like an asshole sometimes. Like a peacock. Maybe even like a clown. Most often I probably look like someone trying to figure out how to buy their first shitty boat.

In this little window between taking acid dropped on an Altoid and when my phone screen starts wobbling around, I’m going to try and describe a rubric for figuring out what to wear. For a basement rave. For whatever. Having sat sweating at the party in the piece I wanted everyone to see, and rain soaked at the train station when I bypassed my beloved Pertex jacket for a more “classic” style, I can say I’ve finally come to a focused process for getting dressed that almost never fucks me over.

The trouble here is that it can’t come from Trunk Club or from a “hottest short sleeve button downs of SS22” list. It comes from knowing your body, and the things you like to do with it. My friend Forest Eckley of Glasswing knows this process well, and due credit to him for elucidating it for me too. Glasswing is the best store on Earth for people who care where their clothes and ceramics come from who also like to go to basement raves. Tonight Forest is wearing a black linen short sleeve shirt from Jan Jan Van Essche, and wide legged, high rise pants, probably also from Jan Jan. He chose these things because they move well and won’t make him too hot if he dances all night, which he will.

There are some things that don’t make sense, right? That big cowboy hat in this basement nine hours from another northwest sunrise for example. The sun doesn’t even rise here anymore anyway. I wanted to wear a lovingly repaired wool pullover from Arpenteur to this party, because I feel most like myself in that sweater. It would have been way too hot and besides I haven’t lovingly repaired it yet.

Before acid and molly and pulsing house music wrestle the idea from my brain, I’ll tell you what I put on tonight and why. Feet up in menswear tradition.

I’m wearing Merrell Jungle Mocs that I bought from Cabela’s in 2020. I was camping with my girlfriend and when I realized I’d only brought Crocs for riding my dirtbike I stopped on the way and bought these shoes after trying to shop for a sold out AR7 next to rows of empty shelves that were stocked with ammunition a month previous, before the pandemic. I have worn them walking ten miles a day in Tokyo, on the dirtbike, and on photo sets - but never in Mexico City because although I have been there twice, both were second dates. The only thing Jungle Mocs can’t do is impress a woman (or can they?).

Inside of these perfect shoes are Rototo’s Hiker Trash socks, because I love their simple color blocking and because I have bikepacked and partied and seen a dozen airports in them and never once noticed how my feet felt. They’re a merino blend which is the appropriate material for socks regardless of season or application.

The 1” hem of my tapered, single pleat, high waisted pant is sitting exactly at the ankle opening of my sock as I sit legs outstretched smoking on an electrical box outside. The pants are from Goldwin in a Cordura stretch denim with big swooping pockets that carry my phone and wallet somehow without showing their shape against my goddamn leg. They have a built in webbing belt and an easy snap at the closure as insurance against the confusion in my near future. There’s a hidden zipper pocket inside the right hand pocket and there’s nothing in there thanks for asking. Most importantly, these look like regular jeans to most people.

I bought Lady White’s pocket t one size too large. I just took five minutes off from writing to smoke a cigarette with a woman named Zoe who sat down next to me in a blue wig and lilac trench and little else, apart from six inch platform boots. To my absolute shock, she said she liked my Jungle Mocs and told me she has some in pink. I didn’t tell her about my friend Paul Ruffles who’s revitalizing the Merrell brand, but she didn’t stay long anyway. My t shirt is in Lady White’s own medium weight jersey, which has drape and structure while I also completely forget I’m wearing it. I chose the pocket t because if there’s one with a pocket and one without it would be insane to go without. It’s white because I only wear white t shirts. It’s tucked evenly into my waistband, where the extra size allows it to raise and move if I were to try dancing, which I won’t.

All apologies to my mother if she finds this but I chose my final layer because it has two chest pockets that are each exactly perfect for a half empty orange pack of American Spirits with a brown Bic lighter tucked inside. Either pocket would do, but the left pocket as far as I know has never been opened. The right pocket with the cigarettes is engineered somehow that it doesn’t bulge and so the flap closure drapes over the top of the pocket without sticking up awkwardly as it would on a lesser shirt. I could use the concealed button to fasten it if I wasn’t reaching inside, which I am.

Someone just congratulated Zoe on her white eyeliner debut. I bought this cotton herringbone field shirt from Evan Kinori’s online store without trying it on in 2016 and it was the most expensive garment I had ever bought at the time. I didn’t need to try it on because I’m a size large and Evan Kinori makes clothes correctly. I wore this shirt on both second dates in Mexico City and walking in Tokyo and on day hikes and I’d wear it anywhere a man would need to wear a shirt. It’s almost brown now, sun faded from its original charcoal, which is great because I don’t wear grey anymore. If I have ever sweat in this shirt it doesn’t seem to notice, and most importantly nobody else does either. I have never washed it and never will.

In the basement somewhere near the leather ottoman is my navy tote bag from Tanner Goods in a fabric called Konbu that lasts like Kevlar and wears like cotton canvas. Inside is a travel tumblr still unblessed with strangers’ wine, a bunch of rainbow carrots rubber banded together next to another bunch of bananas with my beloved pertex jacket stuffed around all of it because in Seattle in June 2022 it is still January. The tote, while beautiful, has been unnoticed or uncared for all night by anyone but me, which is why I use it.

There’s a hiking cap from Cayl jammed somewhere near the carrots. A gift from my friend Sam at Meridian in Hudson, which is the best store on Earth for Anarchists who work in fashion and who also go to basement raves. It’s a lightweight beige nylon twill, with no structure apart from a shock cord fitment at the back and subtle wire for reshaping the bill if it were to be wrested from aside the bananas. I’m not wearing the hat because it took me thirty five years to figure out how to take care of my curly hair and I’m enjoying it. The hat doesn’t exist until I need it, which is all I need from it tonight.

Right now I Iook like I might work in a shipyard, which I have done. I am communicating with what I’m wearing in a way that is accurate to who I am. Zoe in the lilac trench was doing the same. I have to believe that’s true for the cowboy hat person too. These clothes will not stick to me no matter what the fog machine says. I hope that when people look at me, they know what kind of person they’re dealing with. I think it’s working because Zoe walked off five minutes into an orange American Spirit which is a ten minute cigarette at an enthusiastic pace, which is my pace now that I have sat on this electrical box outside the rave in front of my friend Peter’s bookstore for a half hour.

The only acceptable way I have found for getting dressed is with things that I am in love with. Not with things that withstand how I live but with things that respond to it. This is true if I’m spending a whole tenth of this month’s income for a third date to the ballet in a suit (18east)((worth it ten times over)), or if I’m at home looking at shitty boats on Craigslist in a fleece and sweat shorts (both also 18east). Since I can’t plan anything, everything I own has to work for anything I might end up doing. All my decisions about what to wear are made by deciding what to buy. By knowing myself and knowing my clothes just as well.

I know I would wear and carry all of these things through the apocalypse because that’s what I’m doing. I don’t care at all how I look because these things that I adore save me from having to think about it. My two friends are on the sofa now at home. I’m sitting, legs outstretched on the floor. The Kinori shirt looks better draped on our bench than it does on me. My t shirt is still tucked in. My pants hems graze my socks. The Jungle Mocs will be fine wherever they are.

#menswear #menstyle #evankinori #ladywhite #ootd #wiwt

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thatguywiththefaceog · 2 years

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PB, Marcelline, HW and Finn all go to the beach and poor Finn will have quite a difficult time keeping it in his pants, seeing their rocking bodies.

It was a hot day in the land of Ooo, and Princess Bubblegum had a idea. A trip to the beach. So she recruited Finn, Huntress Wizard, and her girlfriend Marceline.

The four of them made there way to the beach. Finn stripped, removing his hat and shirt, leaving himself only in his swim trunks. Meanwhile the three ladies also stripped leaving only in there swimsuits. To Finn's delight, all three of them were wearing quite revealing bikinis.

The tops of their breasts jiggled and the bottoms rode up their cracks, leaving the bottoms of their well bottoms exposed. Huntress Wizard and Bubblegum were lotioning up in the sun while Marceline sat underneath a very large umbrella.

"Finn, could you get my back?" The Vampire Queen said, using as much life saving sunscreen as she could. Finn went to go help her out. He rubbed her shoulders working the sun screen into her shoulders. As he rubbed down Marcy’s back, he realized her asscrack was poking out of her swimsuit.

Finn could feel his dick harden in his trunks. And Marceline noticed. She undid her bikini strap, letting it fall to the ground. “Get my front?”

Finn poured sunscreen onto her breasts and gleefully rubbed it in. Unable to hold it in any longer, she started sucking the hero’s cock. Finn held on to her hair as her long vampire tongue wrapped around his dick, but Marceline was in control.

Finn came, feeding her his own special sunscreen.

She waved him off as he went off to the ocean. He jumped into the ocean, long defeated he’s fear of the ocean. Bubblegum swam up to him.

“I saw what you were doing with me girlfriend Finn.”

“Princess, I’m-”

“Now it’s my turn.”

The candy princess pulled her bottoms down and presented her ass to Finn. He started grinded against her, hotdogging his dick between her asscheeks.

“Ah, ah, I got lube on the beach.”

The two made there way to the sandy shores. Digging through her duffle bag, he found the lube. All while Finn looks at her pink ass, dripping wet. She tossed him the peppermint lube. Finn squeezed the red and white lube onto Bubblegum’s asshole. Once his cock was similarly lubed up, he pushed his cock into her tight hole. Finn eagerly fucked his old crush’s ass.

Finn came again, pumping his load into Bubblegum’s lower intestines. When he pulled out, some of his cum was dribbling out of her ass.

All that was left was Huntress Wizard. Not even bother to put his shorts back on, he walked down to her. Without even saying anything he pulled her in and kissed her. She striped herself of her clothes and laid down on the beach as Finn fucked her pussy, pounding her into the sand. In the third time that hour Finn came, planting his seed into her womb.

“Woo.” Finn fell naked in the sand. Huntress Wizard crawled toward home and started kissing his softening junk. Bubblegum had walked up and as massaging his shoulders. And Marceline waved from under her umbrella, clearly fingering herself. It was gonna be a long day.

#lemon #adventure time

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keijisprettygirl · 3 years

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you perch yourself onto a pastel yellow beach towel, not quite sure if it was yours or Yachi’s since the both of you brought identical towels today.

it was high noon, and the sun beat down on you with intense ferocity that caused sweat to trickle down your neck and back as a few strands of baby hair clung to your forehead. you felt like you were showering in your own sweat.

you were not vibing at all.

even the big old palm tree hovering above you didn’t do much to shelter you from the heat of the sun. the cold drink stowed in your left hand wasn’t enough for the heat to be bearable either.

the sidewalk was hot enough to fry an egg for crying out loud. exactly who’s idea was it to come here?

“who’s idea was it to come here? its so fucking hot!” Rintarou whined the words you thought of, as if reading your mind.

your blonde best friend clicks her tongue from where she stood, turning herself around to face the man with an irritated expression, adjusting the Calloway cream hat that sat on top her head to block the stunning rays of the sun from her eyes.

“well i didn’t think it was gonna be this hot today.. but who cares right? i mean, we haven’t hung out in sooo long! so let’s just deal with it!!”

“whatever dumbass”

“you know what Rin, you’re massive dick”

“huh?”

“you’ve done nothing but complain this entire time we’ve been out and I’m—“

“yeah, I don't care— how is your pool malfunctioning itself when we need it the most? explain yourself woman”

“i’ve already explained it to you guys! have you not been listening Rin—”

“you’re too annoying to listen to”

“like you’re one to talk asshole!!”

“will you two please stop bickering for a second? i’m trying to send this text to my dad but i can’t do that with you two acting like children” Aran bellowed in annoyance, his fingers hovering just above the screen of his new Iphone.

the two immediately shut their traps but not long after did they start bickering again. a tad quieter this time.

You chuckled lightly at the three in front of you, bringing up the cold water bottle to your lips for the hundredth time this hour. “i think it was a great idea to come here Toka” you say, smiling up at the girl sweetly.

“you don’t have to lie to the witch, y/n”

“atleast y/n loves me—“

“no one loves your spoiled ass—“

“Shall we leave and go back to my place?” Aran interrupts. you nod enthusiastically at the idea.

the heat was getting worse by the minute and you were sure that you would pass out at any moment. you wonder how Tetsurou is doing right now as you know he’s currently working on planting Mr Ito’s red roses in the grumpy old man’s front yard.

you hope he’s staying hydrated and frequently applying on sunscreen. Kuroo always forgets to take care of himself sometimes but that’s why he has you right? even though you aren’t his girlfriend, you surely act like one.

he doesn’t seem to mind.

Suna waves a hand in the air, not having a single care about the conversation and where the group ends up at, he just wants to get out of here and go to a place somewhere cooler.

Yachi's shoulders deflate a little, seemingly bothered at her friends for wanting to leave so suddenly but an idea crosses her mind.

“hey i have an idea! why don’t we head to the Kuu Cafe first? i heard that place sells the best ice cream on the island and it’s not even that far from here!”

ice cream sounds pretty good right now, you thought and agreed to her idea as well. Aran was the first to stand, telling the three of you to pack up your stuff so you can head to the Cafe. he says the place gets a bit packed on hot days like this so it would be best to head off as soon as possible.

“y/n can you pay for me?” Suna faces you, a very uncharacteristic expression on his face. jutting out his bottom lip as if acting cute would get you to succumb to shouting him food today. “you’re literally rich enough to buy the whole company Rin”

“yeah, but i can’t be bothered paying”

“i hate you sometimes”

when you reached the destination of the small cafe, a pretty hostess around her mid-forties welcomed the four of you at your arrival and as you drink in the aroma of the place you couldn’t help but think that it looked way fancier than it did on the website made it out to be.

the place was very well decorated with it’s interior warm and cheery, with bright lights and colourful walls and it’s ridiculous amount of flower pots.

taking your seats, you were about to scold the two boys for ogling at the hostess but before you could do so, a familiar tall figure at the counter caught your eye.

he had wavy black hair; broad shoulders and a tight white shirt covering his frame. even when his back faced you, it was in the way he stood that appeared familiar to you but obviously you couldn’t tell if you knew the guy or not but even so..

you tilt your head, now in deep thought.

he looks… oddly familiar?

not at all realizing how you look to the others who stared at you with curious eyes, they followed your gaze and wondered who had suddenly caught your attention and just as they did so, the man you had your eyes on turned around and you audibly gasped. a hand flying to your mouth.

“h-hey y/n? isn’t that—“

“Kiyoomi..”

☀︎︎ Ch.25 ☀︎︎

𝑘𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑠 𝑣𝑠 𝑝𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒𝑠

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a/n: THIS WAS AWFULLY SHORT IM SO SORRY AHHH! it was longer but i found it cringe so i cut it down );

🌷 𝑇𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡: @itoshibaby @oikawasbuttcheeks @babyshoyo @koolaidkoolykid @bongofrito @myanxietyandme7 @underratedmage @babiiey @moremilkforkags @freyafolkvangr @ctrlstar @asahiswrld @chai-tea-isnt-real @darlingkuroo @bestgirlb @rinsangel @kenma-supermacy @sumebreaks @sunaispretty @kowalsqq @scarymucci @tycrackculture @kuroohoeee @schleepyflocci @art-junkie-13 @theunknownparasite @ks-kitten @cherriesanwine @sebariaman @starsabove-me @szeonn @tina-98 @aaniyahz @b0bablinds

[ if your @ is bolded & in pink, means i can’t tag you ]

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

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Northern Exposure | Something in the Air

❄ Part 1 of the mini-series ❄

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series); violence, creepiness on part of our boys, predatory behaviour, Bucky’s an asshole, they’re all too lonely and too desperate, mistaken identity.

This is dark! fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairings: Sam Wilson x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, A Bad Time x Reader

Series Synopsis: You’re a nature photographer stationed up north but the arctic isolation comes to an unexpected and unpleasant end.

Note: I started this ages ago and finally got the energy to finish, it’s four parts and provided my life doesn’t continue to fuck around I should have em all up in the next days. Also as always, cracking away at all the other fics I’ve hooked you into.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The days were short and the nights long. So far north, time seemed not to exist as you chased the fleeting sun with your lens. Your existence was only demarcated by the fortnightly delivery of supplies left at your door as you were often out pursuing an elusive snow fox or wakeful owl. The world seemed small up here and you felt like the only person left alive.

Perched up on a branch precariously, you teetered as you focused your camera at its end. It was the perfect composition, snow blurred in the background as you focus on the scratching along the bark, the remnants of some owl or smaller critter. An abstract in your series, certainly, but interesting nonetheless. Besides, your editor would be happy enough with the close up you’d captured of a reindeer, its antlers the focal point of the shot.

Content, you climbed down, barely keeping yourself from slipping entirely down the trunk to a crash landing. Back on the ground, your boots sank into the snow, halfway up your calf, and you capped the lens of your camera. You tucked it under your parka and glanced around at the sparse grey trees.

Your eyes flew up as you heard a snap in branches not far from those you stood beneath. You held your breath and listened. It might be another opportunity. The early flight of an owl. You followed the sound, your steps muffled by the snowy carpet below. But that natural silence of the arctic returned and you ended up searching for air. Not a noise.

You sighed and turned back to look at the horizon. It was growing dark and you were best to return to your little cabin before long. It would be a moonless night and without the silver guardian above, it would make a nocturnal trek even harder. As you took a step, it seemed to echo and you stopped again. Your ears perked up and you shifted your hat to hear a bit better.

There was nothing. You frowned and turned. Only the snow and the trees against the greying sky. You shrugged off your unusual paranoia and carried on. You took the treacherous path back to your remote habitat. It was just you and your cameras; you and the north. An assignment you’d loathed at first but come to cherish. Isolation had a keen way of introducing one’s self to them.

You stepped up onto the small porch, the aluminum roofing and the tarnished and dented siding made it seem like little more than a lost shed. There was a single room inside, a small bed with a woven blanket, a wooden counter with an old basin and a stove top run on gas. The out house was further back, hard to find in a storm, but as long as you counted your steps, you rarely got lost.

You pushed through and turned the wooden latch that held the door shut. You untied your boots on the salt-stained rubber mat and left them there as you hung your damp, cold parka and shed your thick snow pants. You took off your hat and gloves and left them on the small shelf beneath the hook.

You took out a can of chili and dumped it in the small scratched pan. You lit the burner and sat on the single chair built of logs as you waited for it to warm. The wind swept up outside the shuttered windows and you shivered. You went to the small woodstove and twisted the iron handle of the door. You carefully built a fire as the smell of your dinner filled the cabin.

You left the door of the stove open to heat up the place and turned off the burner. You moved the pot onto the counter and took a bowl from the cupboard. A distant clatter sounded from outside. You frowned and kept yourself from grabbing the pot. You sighed as the noise repeated.

Several times before the wind had torn open the outhouse door and slammed it back and forth throughout the night. One time, it had been a curious bear. You hoped for the former as you shoved your feet into your boots and haphazardly pulled on your jacket. In and out. You’d secure the door and be back for your dinner before it got cold.

Outside, the sky had almost darkened entirely. You clicked on the flashlight you kept by the door and shut it behind you. You stomped down into the snow and squinted at the circle of light as you rounded the edge of the house. You neared the outhouse and sighed as you found it locked up tight. It couldn’t have been your imagination; you’d heard something.

You huffed and turned back. You swept the flashlight back and forth as you searched for a creature sneaking around or whatever item the wind had tried to carry away. There was nothing. You followed your footprints back to the house and climbed up the steps.

The door was open and you noticed the much larger puddled footprint on the porch too late. The fire had been snuffed and the single lantern was dead. Your wrist was grabbed as you tried to angle the flashlight around the room and you were drawn inside and pinned against the door.

A cold barrel pressed to your chin and your eyes widened. Your arm was twisted up until the flashlight blinded you and lit the unfamiliar face before you. You blinked and shook your head helplessly.

“Quite the hiding spot,” The deep voice added to the icy nip of the air.

“What--”

“Don’t try to act dumb. It might’ve worked with Wilson but not me.” He snarled and you released the flashlight as you tried to wriggle free. “Stop!”

The light fell to the floor and bounced as he wrenched your arm up and pushed the gun harder under your chin.

“I have orders to take you alive… if I can,” he sneered, “doesn’t mean I will.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you grunted as he had you on tip toes against the wall, the flash light rolled on the floor and sent shadows around the room, “I’m not… I’m not whoever you think I am.”

“Save it, Ursa,” he hissed and pulled you away from the wall, gun still taut to your skin, “0r should I say Astur.”

“No, no, it’s not me,” you pleaded, confused as he turned you away from him and angled you towards the bed, the muzzle now pressed to the back of your head. “I’m just a photographer. You’ll see. Look through my stuff. It’s just cameras and photos. It’s--”

“Shut up,” he pushed on the back of your knees with his, “on your stomach.”

You got down, barely able to see and unwilling to resist with a bullet waiting behind you. He pushed you into the mattress until you were still. He pulled back the gun and planted his knee on your back as he held you down. He holstered his firearm then pulled your arm back behind you and then the other. He used a zip tie to secure your hands there before he did the same to your ankles.

He carefully stepped back and you turned your head to watch his shadow. He didn’t bother with the flashlight as he closed the door. Then he turned and kicked the light so it cracked and the bulb died. He sat in the chair, it groaned dangerously under him.

You could see little of him as all light was gone but for the sudden glow of a screen before him. You only saw the glint of his blue eyes before he put it against his cheek. You turned onto your side and he growled.

“Don’t even think of moving,” he warned. “Hey,” he spoke into the speaker. “I just sent the coordinates. Target secured.” He listened, “by morning?”

He pulled the phone away and dimmed the screen. You could only hear the wind as he sat there and you sensed his unwavering gaze in the dark. With your jacket undone and your boots untied, you felt the draft that blew through the cabin walls. You shivered and he let out a thick breath. A snarl almost.

“I really don’t know what’s going on,” you said.

“Shut up,” he snapped.

“I mean it. You have to look. Look around, you’ll see,” you pleaded.

He snorted and didn’t move. You rolled your eyes helplessly and another chill ran through you.

“Please--”

“I already looked. When you were out climbing trees,” he intoned. “I saw the photos. Very thorough reconnaissance.”

“What? Pictures of birds and snowflakes?” You uttered.

“You’re good. That whole innocent ploy is convincing,” you heard his boot drag over the wooden floor, “almost.”

You deflated, your wrists chafed and your teeth chattered.

“You gonna wait all night… for whoever that was?”

“I’m tired of telling you to shut up.”

“You leave me like this, I’ll freeze to death. You too.”

“I won’t,” he said, “you might.”

“You said you had orders.”

“Circumstantial,” he countered.

You exhaled deeply and bent your legs as you tried to curl into yourself. He tutted and stood, the floor creaked. The stove door whined and you heard the iron poker against the kindling. He mumbled as he relit the fire and stirred it until the biggest log caught. He rose and set aside the poker and resumed his seat.

The fire’s amber haze limned his figure in the dark. His broad shoulders were wider than the back of the chair, his long hair poked out from beneath a wool cap, and his hand formed a tight fist on the arm. He leaned his head back and sniffed.

“There,” he said sharply, “nice and cozy.”

You wiggled on the bed, trying to get comfortable. You pulled on your wrists and ankles and only caused your hands and feet to throb. You grunted and relented, resigning yourself to lay listless atop the thin mattress.

“You’re wasting your time--”

“I’m about to shove your sock in your mouth so I suggest you shut the fuck up,” he barked.

You gulped and closed your eyes in surrender. Well, maybe his friends would realise his mistake. Or maybe they’d just add to your predicament.

❄

You didn’t really sleep, you languished. The man didn’t either. You could tell. He just watched. Frighteningly patient as the night critters made a ruckus outside. He barely even moved as you fidgeted, your shoulders sore and your legs cramping.

Then there was a sudden change that even you felt. A heavy pair of boots climbed up onto the porch and the handle jiggled, the door stopped by the wooden latch. The man rose and crossed to the door. You heard the subtle brush of fabric and metal as he pulled out his gun. He pulled open the door slowly, at the ready, the slightly lesser dark seeping in.

“Sooner than I thought,” the man greeted his comrade. Your heart froze as another set of footfalls followed. A third man entered behind the second.

“Jesus, why are you sitting here in the dark?” The third man asked, “there a light or something?”

“She’s on the bed.” The first man grumbled. “Only a rifle hidden under there. I already disarmed it.”

The sudden electric glow of the lantern bloomed to life. Your eyes slowly adjusted as you stared at the three men. There were all big, all broad-shouldered, all stood like soldiers as they communed around the only chair. The third, the one who’d clicked the lantern on, neared you.

“She’s putting on a front, but--” the first man began and the third one raised his hand to silence him as he knelt by the bed.

He had a kind face, his brown eyes were warm, and the finely trimmed goatee lent him a sense of lightheartedness. His expression however was hard and turned to confusion then disappointment as he held the lantern close and grabbed your chin, turning your head back and forth.

“Not her,” he released you and stood, “fucking Christ, Bucky. It’s not fucking her.”

The second man snorted, “really?”

“It’s gotta be--” the first insisted, “the gun--”

“For hunting,” you said dully, “not that I do much of that. I use it to scare away the wolves.”

“Shut up.” He snarled and crossed his arms as he turned his back to you, “you’re sure?”

“I wouldn’t forget the woman who nearly slit my throat. Twice.” The other said, “and really? A single rifle? You think that’s all she’d have?”

“She has photos too. The bunker, due north. She’s got dozens.” The first insisted.

“Bunker?” You whispered.

“I’m not going to tell you to shut it again,” the man turned as he raised a hand and the blond, the one who hadn’t said much at all, caught his wrist.

“Hey,” the other man warned, “she’s innocent. She probably has no idea what she was taking pictures of.”

“Yeah, but now she knows our faces. No doubt recognizes you, pretty boy,”tThe third offered, “and idiot here assaulted her and tied her up.”

“All the way up here? Who’s she gonna tell?” The blonde returned.

“She has a radio,” The first, Bucky offered. “It’d be enough to give us away.”

“They’d believe her? If she’s been up here long, they might not.” The blonde glanced over the others shoulder, “you apologize and we can--”

“You really wanna leave another loose end?” Bucky challenged as he blocked his gaze.

“You should’ve confirmed before you jumped,” the third huffed.

“If we’re not gonna leave her, what do we do?” The blonde asked.

They all went silent. They looked at each other and then you. Bucky raised his gun, still in hand, and the blond caught him again. He shook his head and tisked.

“Are you crazy?” He pushed his hand down, “We’re not killing her. She didn’t do anything.”

“I agree, she shouldn't die because you’re stupid,” the other chuckled.

“Well, Einstein,” Bucky snipped, “what do you suggest?”

The third man’s brows raised slowly and he tilted his head. He glanced at you again then back to his comrades. He shrugged and a grin spread across his face.

“The bunker. It’s empty. Safe.” He said quietly, “How much of a fight did she put up?”

“Enough of one,” Bucky muttered.

“She’s… not bad. She’s all alone up here. Even if someone noticed she went radio silent, it’d have to take a while,” he explained.

“What are you saying?” The blonde frowned.

“If she has the photos, if she knows where the bunker is and this moron’s blurted out some intel, I just know it,” he continued, “we can’t let her go. He’s at least right about that. So… we don’t wanna kill her, we keep her.”

“Keep her? For what?” Bucky scoffed.

The man was silent and winked at them. The blonde peeked over at you and Bucky dropped his head as he gripped his hip.

“Come on, you guys,” he threw up his hand as the blonde shifted on his feet. “It’s fucking cold up here and it’s been awful lonely everywhere else. We’re running around with no finish line in sight and… well, I’m about to stab one of you and I’ve seen the way you,” he pointed at Bucky, “look at me. I don’t trust that.”

“You can’t mean--” the blonde muttered.

“She’s better off dead,” Bucky insisted.

“Just because you’re a monk, doesn’t mean the rest of us need to be.”

“Hmm,” the blonde tapped his toe.

“You’re not really considering this?” Bucky sneered.

“Well… why not?” He rasped, “She’s… alone and… not too bad on the eyes.”

“And I have ears!” You sat up awkwardly, “You want me to keep my mouth shut. Done. I’m up here trying to catch a few birds on a roll. I’m not here to get mixed up in whatever it is you three--” You blinked as the lantern shone in the blond’s face as the three men turned to you, “shit.”

Captain America’s eyes sparked with recognition as your head did the same. He knew you knew who he was; likely he saw that look every other day. There was no hiding it.

“I told you,” the third man chided, “that mug is hard to forget.”

“No, no, I don’t-- I won’t tell a soul. I swear. Please just whatever you’re thinking, don’t. I’m some dumb photographer they sent up here to document the snow. You really think anyone cares that much--”

“Not so much about you but those photos are pretty interesting,” Bucky neared and shoved you down and you barely kept from hitting your head on the wall, “don’t tell me you didn’t know what you were doing.”

“People go missing up here all the time. That’s why no one’s here,” the brown-eyed man said, “she’ll just be another and we’ll have a nice companion to keep us from killing each other.”

“No,” Bucky turned, “it’s my mistake. I’ll take care of it.”

“Put the gun away, Buck,” Steve Rogers ordered, “it’s not right. We can’t kill her. Even if she isn’t entirely innocent, even if you’re right about those photos. She’s better to us alive.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going along with this--”

“I’m the captain,” Steve insisted. “I’ve made up my mind and I’m giving you an order. Sam’s right. She’s more use alive. If she has information, we’ll get it out of her. And if she doesn’t well, we can find something else to do with her.”

Bucky swore and pushed his gun into his holster. He stepped away from you and shouldered past the one called Sam.

“Yes, captain,” he said dryly.

“Sergeant,” Steve retorted and nodded to Sam, “get her up. We should leave before the sun rises.”

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chiwhorei · 3 years

Text

the devil makes

pairing: benimaru shinmon x reader x joker/52

genre: smut, 18+ minors dni

word count: ~2.2k

tags: a touch of branding (he flicks his cigarette at you i just really don’t know how else to tag it), knifeplay (except it’s a playing card, only a smidge of blood), rough oral, face fucking, voyeurism, spit, anal, double penetration, degradation, spanking, belly bulge, it’s a little dubconny but not really?

a/n: my first full fire force piece woot woot! these two characters make me so fucking horny and when they shared the screen my pussy was completely inconsolable. thank you @messwriting and @10millionyearsdungeon for looking over this and always encouraging me.

hymn: wrong by MAX ft. lil uzi vert

you, and me, and the devil makes three.

“Why don’t you cut the shit and tell me what you want,” you pluck the cigarette from your caller’s lips, he presses his saccharine smile down at the edges to feign a pout.

You know better by now. Your legs hang on either side of Joker’s hips, his white dress shirt doing almost nothing to cover skin filled with a new flight of bites and bruises. The last set had just faded when you heard the tell-tale knock at your front door.

His timing is always impeccable, hat in hand and dipping under your doorway just as the wanton throbbing sizzles into a dull ache.

Deeply inhaling, nicotine breaches your throat and prickles past your lungs. You only ever smoke when he’s around. At this point, you’re not sure if it’s a necessity or a habit.

“Do I need a reason to visit my favorite girl?” His voice trails around your skin in tune with a wandering set of hands. It’s infuriating how easily your body relents to Joker’s fingerprints. You’ll feel them like scorch marks for days to come.

“I’m not your girl and I doubt I’m your favorite.” You bush off his quip, cigarette bobbing in your teeth before he pulls it from your mouth to drag. With a flick of his finger, ash falls like burning snow onto the juncture of your collarbone. You wince and fall forward into his chest.

“You’ve proven yourself the most useful, is that better?” Joker pulls you into a searing kiss, pushing tongue and smoke into your awaiting mouth.

“At least it’s more honest.” Joker laughs loudly, his head falling back against the mattress. Your pillows will smell like sage and campfire, you’ll pretend it doesn't lull you to sleep.

“I need your help to, achem, seal a deal of sorts. For the greater good of course.”

Eyes roll upwards, first with guffaw, but any argument melts with the feeling of his lips on a warpath from the angle of your jaw to the swell of your breast.

Joker promises to make it worth your while, in the ways you always seem to let him.

Against all better judgement.

* * *

“Well, Captain,” Joker presses a sharp ace against the curve of your collarbone, leaving a trail of crimson in its wake, “she’s a pretty little toy ain’t she?”

Pleasure coats your tongue, it tastes like blood and incense.

In the short time they’ve been acquainted, Benimaru has learned to be unsurprised with any impromptu meetings Joker could plan.

What Beni wasn’t expecting was your naked, flushed body on the lap of his new associate. He wants to complain about the purple eyed almost-stranger sitting in his private quarters, but any argument flounders for air as soon as you come into view.

You seem completely placid from your position against the anti-hero’s chest, awaiting further instructions with glassy eyes. Any shame you could ever muster lies in a heap of fabric six feet away. Joker always dresses you in something easy to tear off.

“You sure do make an interesting first impression, Joker.” The 7th’s captain walks forward in the dimly lit room, pushing his fingers against your hair and pulling back roughly to steal your undivided attention.

A pretty little toy indeed.

“We’re partners now, Beni,” you can feel Joker’s voice like honeyed venom from behind, every syllable drips against your shoulders, “and partners share.”

Joker flicks the playing card upward, twirling it in deft fingers. You watch his dexterity, the piece of glossy paper is pressed to your lipstick, dragging your bottom lip down slightly before pulling away. A signature painted in soft pink.

The hand on your hip, the one in your hair-- the feeling of two bodies enclosing on you like prey is overwhelming and salacious.

“Does he bring you to do all of his dirty work?” You’re spoken to for the first time, the grip in your hair lifting you from Joker’s lap.

“Only the dirtiest work suits me,” you hold your ground, voice dropping an octave to make both men shudder, “captain.”

Benimaru’s sneer is only an inch from your mouth, his proximity neering closer with every word falling past your lips. If you keep talking like this, Joker won’t want to share his toys anymore.

Pointer finger and thumb come up to cradle your chin, mouth parting with the smallest pressure. Your tongue lulls out slightly, an invitation punctuated with your eyes flitting from his stare to the deep set frown across his face.

The sound of Beni spitting hits your ears, the harsh put bounces against the bannisters. Warmth runs in an indecent trail from the tip to the fattest plane of your tongue.

“Don’t play coy, sweetheart, show ‘em what else you can do with that mouth.” Joker’s palm comes down on your ass cheek hard, a breathy yelp escapes to be swallowed by the man above you.

Beni moves to perch against the desk centered in the ever-condensing room, arms folded across his broad chest. The space feels cold without the body heat you had been stuck in between, you feel exposed fully for the first time since Joker snuck you into company seven.

There’s only a beat of self-cognizance before you’re pushed to the ground by a familiar set of calloused hands. You need no further direction, knees and palms straining against the hardwood as you inch forward.

By the time you’re kneeling in front of Benimaru, his cock is in a tight fist. He pumps himself in long strokes, smearing pre with his thumb to coat the throbbing head. His length is impressive, you can feel saliva pooling in under your tongue as you watch his hand move from base to tip.

The sight almost has you forgetting your manners.

“Will you fuck my mouth, Captain Shinmon?” There’s very little restraint left available behind his icy red irises. Joker sits back in the brown leather chair, a front row seat.

You feel the familiar burn against your scalp with Beni’s searing pull. The red tip hits your mouth and you’re positive a streak of lipstick finds home against your chin.

You’ll be covered in much more before the sun comes up.

His cock is heavy as pushes past your lips inch by thick inch. The groan ripping through your throat is vibrato against the ribbed skin.

“Wow, ah, your sweet little throat was meant for cock wasn’t it?” Tears prick in your eyeline, your vision growing bleary as you swallow. A stray streak of mascara falls down the curve of your cheek before Beni swipes it away. You almost blush. Almost.

He hits the back of your throat with seemingly little effort, you sputter slightly at the burn, your jaw aching to accommodate. Just as you feel him pulling almost all of the way out, Beni slams the full length in again. His pace is brutal and unforgiving. Each thrust earning a new mess of spit and makeup to collect at the edges of your mouth.

“No need to be gentle, Beni, she’s taken a whole lot worse.” You would laugh at the sick curl of Joker’s words if you could. The implication is both irritating and worrisome.

“As much as I would love to cum in that pretty little mouth,” you gasp for air as Beni pulls you off, a thick line of slobber still connecting your bottom lip to his cock, “I really want to feel your cunt wrapped around me instead.”

You hear the sound of Joker’s heavy feet closing in from behind, his grip on the back of your neck to hoist you back up to your feet.

“Partners share, remember?” The lilt in your pursuers voice is sweet in the way sugar free gums rots your teeth. Joker will break you into pieces for the greater good.

It’s sick, absolutely disgusting, how much you crave your own destruction.

“She’s nice and ready for you, captain. Feel how dripping wet she is just from sucking your cock.” His next words suck all of the oxygen from your lungs, he replaces air with tension,

“You can take her cunt, I’m going to fuck her tight little ass.”

“Wait I--” There’s no use pleading, there’s no use in anything but quiet compliance and resolving to the fate of being stuffed completely full.

Four hands are on you, groping the fat on hips and breasts, moving against the pliant skin in tandem. You’re malleable in their hold, hoisted up in Joker’s arms. His grip is unforgiving, crescented bruises are bound to form and be visible for days to come on the inside of your thighs.

Beni captures your lips between his teeth, stealing back your attention with a growl. His kiss is searing, tongue slipping to lash against your own. The stubble grazing his strong jaw is dizzying, he whispers against your lips, licking against your pre-stained mouth. Quiet enough to be either missed or ignored by Joker as he busies himself freeing his cock and grinding itn against your ass.

“Next time I’ll sit you on my face and we can have a little fun one-on-one.” Beni punctuates his promise with a nip to your bottom lip before his hands move to steady you snugly in between two wide chests. His palms rest on the dips of your hips, thumb jutting out to press tightly against your aching clit. The movement rips a hoarse wale from deep in the back of your throat.

“You always cry so pretty, dollface.” Joker’s emboldened by your tears, an invitation to push you farther, you feel two fingers prodding your asshole, using your own slick to assist in his exploration. The sensation is painful and addicting as both digits push past the tight ring of muscle.

His fingers move to work the taught hole open, each ridge of knuckle and callus blurring the line between torment and pleasure. Beni circles your clit, picking up in pace as Joker adds a third finger, the stimulation hurtling you towards orgasm. A litany of please scratch at your throat, begging your captors to steal an orgasm from the pile of shaking limbs in between them.

“Cum, little one, cum so I can fuck this tight little cunt of yours.” Beni’s voice is unmistakably demanding, there’s not a note of suggestion behind his words. Your first orgasm snaps against you like electrocution, buzzing around every nerve.

“That’s my girl,” Joker snickers, feeling the contraction and loosening of your muscles. Your high is the final submission, willing every part of you how they see fit. Little more than a toy, a pawn in a broader game of chess.

“Are you ready for us?” Beni’s voice is framed in question, but you know better than to take it as anything but rhetorical. It doesn't actually matter whether or not you’re ready. What matters is the squeal of pain and temperance that comes from breaking you.

Before you can even nod in agreement, you feel it. The burning fullness, the sealing of a deal between two men that you happen to be placed right in the middle of. Joker’s cock is hot and heavy, sheathing himself in the last plane of virgin flesh. The piercing on his frenum drags against you, a familiar feeling in the most unfamiliar place.

There’s no time to get used to the sensation as Beni is pulling you forward slightly so your weeping pussy is hovering over his length. Your legs dangle, suspended on either side of his forearms. You’re lowered onto the captain, his pace is remarkably gentle as your pubic bone meets the sprawling expanse of wirey hair nestled between his hips. As your skin meets on either side of your weeping body, both cocks sheathed completely inside, the canter of either man picks up brutally.

The sticky feeling of sweat and arousal covers every inch of skin in the room, partnering with the sound of slapping and thrusting that all but drowns out the pathetic whimpers your suspended form can muster.

“I knew you would make yourself useful, doll. My favorite game to play.”

Your head falls forward against Beni, body growing heavy as the merciless, rhythmic thrumming of your abuse. The dull ache of another orgasm drips into your bloodstream. Your abused bundle of nerves become live wires, sparking against Joker’s wandering fingers as they wrap around your front.

“I can feel it, ya’ know, I can feel myself in your stomach.” His taunt is stressed with his palm pressing down against your abdomen before dipping back down once more to pinch your clit.

His rough treatment is the final straw, you scream and cuvulse in the hold of your predators. You squeeze tightly in a succession of muscle spasms that feel like you’re trying to milk both of their own orgasms to crash with your own.

Thick spurts of cum spill into you with a series of deep, final thrusts. You feel your own wetness as it runs down your thighs and ass. Muffled groans from both men fill the stale air as they claim your holes. There’s nothing left in the space between bodies except you caught in the web of spiders, dangling in silken limbs and labored breathing. There’s nothing left to give or take.

There’s nothing but panting and sweat and a deal with the devil.

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

#fire force x reader #fire force smut #benimaru x reader #joker x reader #benimaru smut #joker smut #en en no shobotai #fire force #tw: knifeplay #tw: dubcon #sin.knifeplay #sin.dubcon #tw: branding #sin.branding

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peachys-archived-posts · 3 years

Text

Spooked

Summary: Injured, Jigen makes his escape to the readers apartment, little does the reader know, she's in for a scare.

Warning: Blood, gunshot wound, mentioned death, slight angst?

My AO3

One of your later nights, watching the news for any sign of your thieving gunman and his crew. Jigen could protect himself nonetheless, but you were still worried, with a world of possibilities out there, anything could have happened.

Your phone lights up on the cushion beside you, the caller ID on the screen making your heart stutter. Fumbling the phone at first, you steady your hand and pick up.

"I'm on my way, I'll be there shortly." Jigen's gruff voice barks at you. "Jigen, wait-"

The phone beeps in your ear, indicating that the call has ended. letting out a frustrated sigh, you drop your phone back down on the cushion.

Jigen would most likely be coming in with some sort of injury, saying that he's hurt. Jigen always did that. Standing, you collected all of the tools you may need and promptly plopped down on the futon. Anxiously your knee bounced, a number of things might have happened, you preferred not think about it though.

Snapped out of your daze, sirens wailed past, the screeching of tires braking hard on pavement moving you to throw open your window and peer out. Your heart thumped lowly in your ears, eyes searching for your boyfriend's hat among the sidewalk, stomach beginning to churn only moments before a door opened behind you.

"Jigen," you addressed him, closing the window and turning your attention to the lanky gunman, who stumbled towards your couch.

"Good to see you too," Jigen groaned. Sitting down finally, he takes his jacket off in the process. You grab it from his hands, resting it on the table beside your medical supplies.

"What happened?" You asked as you leaned down on your knees before him.

Jigen began to unbutton his shirt, the bright red against the baby blue fabric making you grimace.

"Bullet wound. I didn't move in time." Jigen answered bluntly. He laid his head back, mouth agape trying to catch his breath still.

"I'm getting too old for this." He mused. Looking up at him unamused, you spoke. "You're not even in your thirties."

Jigen didn't speak from there, allowing you to work as quickly as you could. You were all but okay during that time, the amount of blood that had to be cleaned up was almost sickening. It worried you that he was losing so much, it might cause him to be put in the hospital. As much as Jigen would have liked to say that he was okay, he knew he was far from, he would only be lying then. Having already lost so much blood, he was beginning to feel dizzy, his breathing becoming rapid.

"Jigen? Are you okay?" Your hand firmly shook his shoulder, snapping him from his daze. Surely he would have passed out if not for you, he didn't want to scare you anyways.

"I'll be fine." Jigen waved off your concern. Laying his head back once more, closing his eyes.

You watched him wearily, looking up as often as your steady working hands would allow, Jigen looked as though he had seen a ghost. He was so pale. You finally finished with everything, so focused on just getting his wound treated, that you never noticed him drift off to sleep. At first you nudged him lightly, calling his name with no response. You waited, allowing enough time for him to have responded.

"Jigen." You said sternly, nudging his shoulder. You waited again, your heart beginning to beat lowly in your ears. The thought of him having died in that time without you noticing, scared you to death. Grabbing his shoulders rather roughly, you shook him.

"Daisuke!" You yelled.

Jigen awoke with a start, his hat falling off, and his hand instinctively reaching for his gun. His eyes scanned the room before they landed on you, your eyes wide and just beginning to water. Confused, Jigen reached forward, grasping your hands and holding them gently.

"What's wrong?" He asked

You sat beside him, removing your hands from his, wiping the tears from your face. Reaching out, you slapped the gunman on the chest, the fear from before now turning into mild anger.

"What was that for?" Jigen whined. You crossed your arms.

"Asshole. I thought you died!" You fussed. Jigen paused, processing what you said, then leaned back against the couch. He flinched lightly, having moved roughly when he first awoke must've strained the wound. Heaving a sigh, he spoke. "Well, I'm okay."

Deciding not to say anything else, you huffed and leaned against his shoulder. After a few minutes he nudged you, asking you to lean forward; you complied. He draped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him and laying his head atop of yours. You closed your eyes, from weeks of late nights spent worrying, and little to no sleep, it was starting to catch up to you; That or it was because Jigen was finally home, and okay. Nonetheless you were happy and content right where you were, close to falling asleep against him.

"Are you not going to clean up?" Jigen pondered.

Cracking open your eyes and shutting them again, you shifted against him. "I'll do it in the morning." You responded groggily.

Jigen hummed, knowing that he would have his clothes washed and your supplies cleaned before you woke, and then he would be gone again. As much as he hated to leave you waking up alone, he had a job to do. When the time would allow, he would stay for as long as possible, and maybe once you're ready he'll take you with him; But that was a lifetime away. He would just enjoy this while he could.

You woke the next morning in your bed, the sun shining through the curtains and the sound of shuffling outside your door. Sitting up with a yawn, you took the moment to gather your thoughts and get up. Moving towards your door and stepping out into the hallway, you were greeted by Jigen pulling his previously bloody clothes out of the dryer.

"You're up a bit early. Don't you think so?" He asked as he threw his jacket on the couch and began to pull on his shirt. You shook your head, stepping closer behind him, slipping your hands around his waist you nuzzled into his warm back.

Jigen glanced back at you, a small smile on his face.

"So Daisuke, huh?" He teased lovingly.

Letting go of his waist and moving to see his face clearly, you remembered the events from last night and the scare that followed.

"What? You like that or something?" You mused, settling down on the cushion beside his jacket. You snatched up his jacked and held it close.

He raised a brow at you, grasping at his jacket and trying to tug it away from you, only for you to roll away. "No, I just think it's cute." He admitted. Towering over you from behind in an attempt to grab his jacket, you giggled at his failed attempt.

"C'mon give it up." He urged, tickling at your sides. You wiggled and squirmed underneath Jigen, smiling up at him, your grasp on his jacket still strong.

"Stop!" You squeaked. He prevailed with a smile much like your own. "Not until you give me my jacket." He stated.

Seconds of tickling passed by before you gave up, claiming. "White flag, I give up!"

"Finally," Jigen smiled lightly, taking his jacket from your arms and pulling it on. "About time." He teased you. Sitting up and crossing your arms, you pouted.

"Please stay, just a few more minutes." You begged.

Jigen stopped what he was doing to look at you, his smile dropping and his eyes dimming. Sighing, he knelt down in front of you.

"Y/n, you know I have too. We both don't want me to leave, but I have no choice." He explained.

You avoided his gaze, your bright eyes saddening with the thought of him leaving, again.

"Here," Jigen suddenly said. "Keep this." Placing his hat over your face and pulling it down just below your eyes, he placed a chaste kiss against your lips. He didn't linger there for more than a few seconds, the barking of tires outside requesting his company.

As he pulled away, you lifted the hat from your gaze, stumbling to race him towards the window. Grasping his arm tightly just before he was about to jump onto the fire escape, you pulled him back in. Moving your hand to his cheek, you placed a quick kiss on his lips.

"For good luck." You said.

"C'mon Jigen! Hurry up!" Lupin shouted from the street below.

Jigen hastily turned his head to the window, "I'll be there in just a moment." He yelled. Once he had his attention back on you for the moment being, you gave him a hug.

"Please be safe." You said.

Hugging you back softly, he smiled. "Of course."

"Pops is on his way!" Lupin yelled again.

Letting him go, he slipped out onto the fire escape, jumping into the yellow car below. You leaned out the window, "I love you!" You shouted. You could see him look up at you with a bright smile on his face, and a small wave before they raced off around the corner.

You stepped back into your apartment, closing the window and pulling the hat from your head. It was special to him, it surprised you that he even handed it to you. Thankful, you were glad he trusted you with it. The weeks ahead would be boring, draining, and lonely, but soon enough he would be back; in which you would be able to take him up on the offer of joining him. Until then you would wait for him, like you always did.

The wind brushed through Jigen's hair, and he sank into the seat. It wouldn't be too much longer before he would be coming back for that hat, and hopefully if you agreed, he would be coming back for you too. Either way he would be happy to see you again.

Lupin glanced at his partner, a smile on his face.

"Down bad huh?" Lupin teased. Jigen's peace of mind was shattered, bringing on his usual scowl.

"Don't act like you're not down bad too you womanizer." He fussed.

#lupin the third #lupin the third x reader #jigen daisuke #jigen daisuke x reader #goemon ishikawa xiii #daisuke jigen x reader #jigen daisuke x you #lupin iii x reader #lupin iii #lupin the 3rd #inspector koichi zenigata

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maybebanks · 3 years

Text

Something About Him

JJ Maybank x Reader

“He’s just an asshole, Kie,” you sighed, flopping onto the couch of the Chateau.

“Yeah but you should get your stuff. Just ask him to put it on his porch so you can pick it up,” Kie suggests.

You recently broke things off with your 2 month boyfriend because you were feeling out of love. It wasn’t a sudden thing, if fact, each and every one of the pogues had run into you crying over something he did to you.

Except JJ. There was something about him that made you never want to let him see you vulnerable. In the 3 years you’ve known him, you’re sure he’s never seen you cry, and you’d like to keep it that way.

It was like you and JJ had an ongoing battle, of who was stronger. You hoped you could win that mentally, because almost every day he proved he was physically. It was always playful, but it did irritate you sometimes.

“Heads up!” You heard JJ shout suddenly. Kie rolled her eyes at the interruption of girl talk.

You jumped up, expecting a soccer ball to fly at your head. Then, JJ approached laughing.

“False alarm,” Kie said, getting up and walking outside, saluting you.

“It was not a false alarm! Y/n’s head is up!” JJ argued.

“What the fu-“

Before you could argue, JJ picked up up by your waist, pulling you up from the couch and throwing you over his shoulder.

You gasped when your stomach collided with his shoulder.

“See??” JJ laughed. When you finally got your breath back you started punching his back.

“Put me down!! I’m not fucking kidding JJ! Let go!” You screamed, not in the mood currently.

“What’s up your ass?? Oh wait lemme see,” JJ joked, gently tapping your ass as it was basically next to his face.

“JJ!” You shouted again, but your voice cracked, in a sad way. You wanted to be playful like you always were, but you were sad at heart.

JJ frowned, but he didn’t up you down. Instead he walked with you outside to the rest of the group.

You groaned, “JJ it’s not funny! Please,” you pleaded,

His arm had a hold on both of your legs below your butt.

Pope was the first to notice, “JJ, stop harassing her,” Pope joked.

“C’mon were just having fun, like we always do. Right Y/n?” JJ asked.

You didn’t answer.

So JJ helped you off of him, setting you down on a hammok.

“What’s wrong? It was just a joke,” JJ suggested.

You frowned, “yeah good fucking idea JJ,” you said sarcastically, getting up, and bumping shoulders with him as you passed him.

“Whoa. I didn’t mean to make you mad,” JJ added, looking at the group for help.

You ignored him. Walking away and then inside.

“Jesus! Y’all see that? Why is Y/n the only girl that is nice to me one day and the next a total bitc-“

“Whoa dude, watch your mouth,” John B interrupted, lightheartedly.

JJ sighed, grabbing a can of Coors and sitting beside Kie.

“She’s going through a lot of shit right now, JJ. Cut her some slack,” Kie reasoned.

“What kind of shit?” JJ asked, now concerned if something was seriously wrong, like something at home.

“Not my place,” Kie shrugged, she knew how you would be mad at her if she told JJ about your boy problems.

“It’s it about that boyfriend dude?” John B asked, totally insensitive to what Y/n might want.

“Did he fucking try something? God if he hurt her-“

“If he hurt her? Dude where have you been this past week?” Pope said jokingly.

“Guys, she probobly wouldn’t want us talking about this,” Kie interjected.

“No! What’s going on? I told that douchebag if he ever hurt her I’d kill him,” JJ paused and grabbed the gun holstered in his waistband, “guess it’s time to keep my word,”

Kie raised her eyebrows and instantly grabbed the gun from JJs hand, holding it awkwardly so it slipped out of her hand, “don’t be ridiculous!” Kie scolded.

“You can’t grab a gun like that!” JJ suddenly argued.

The group laughed at JJ’s statement, and silence fell. JJ felt a nervous feeling in his gut at the thought of something hurting you. He didn’t want to lose his best friend.

“I should talk to her,” JJ blurted, standing up and walking from the group.

Kie and Pope attempted to reason with him, but he didn’t seem to care. He knew you wouldn’t want to be alone.

When he got inside, it was dark exept by one light. He followed the light to John B’s room. You were sleeping. You head on the foot of the bed, no blanket on you.

He sighed, you looked so sweet.

You took a deep breath, and JJ though you might be awake. But you weren’t.

JJ found a blanket and decided to drape it over you, but when the fabric touched your bare skin, you immediately awoke.

JJs eyebrows rose, “good morning,” JJ said on instinct.

You mumbled a few things, then sighed, “hi,”

JJ smiled softly, then looked down at the bed, next to you, asking if he could sit there.

You nodded, then moved to sit up as well.

“Hey...uh..we usually have fun messing around...I shoulda let you down when you asked, though.” JJ said, his eye contact wavering.

“Is that..an apology?” You joked sarcastically.

JJ smiled, “why don’t you show me...and we’ll find out?”

“I’ve got nothing to apologize for. You were being a dick.” You answer bluntly.

“As much of a dick as your boyfriend?” JJ asked.

You first thought of correcting him, ex boyfriend. But then you wondered how he even knew your boyfriend was a dick to you in the first place. When you tried so hard to keep that from him.

“Can we not talk about my life mistakes for one night please?” You asked.

“Sure..fine.” JJ answered.

You suddenly felt cold, so you cling to the blanket JJ gave you.

“What? You just gonna sit here, watching me all night?” You joked. Leaning back towards the pillow.

“Maybe I will,” JJ challenged, laying beside you.

A few moments later, your eyes were heavy, and when you started to close them, you opened them again, remembering JJ.

“You can sleep, you know. It’s late.” He said, taking off his baseball hat and throwing it on the floor somewhere.

“You gonna stay here with me?” You asked, it wasn’t in a rude tone, almost as if you wanted him to.

“Sure,” he shrugged.

You moved deeper under the covers, struggling to find a comfortable position on the pillow. Finally resulting to JJ’s shoulder.

JJ laughed to himself, you were so salty to him before and now you were cuddling him like a teddy bear. If he had to admit anything, he was enjoying it.

You shuffled a bit, moving your hand over his chest. In return, he put his arm around you. Closing the gap between the two of you.

JJ wanted to stay awake, just in case you needed anything, but soon, he succumbed to his tiredness.

It is said that boys don’t feel the emotions after a breakup for a while, until they realized what they lost. But your ex boyfriend, being the possessive asshole that he was, hated that you broke up.

He managed the leave you alone during the day, but that was before he decided to have a ‘few’ evening drinks.

Tonight, he was drunk, and he knew you’d be at the Chateau, so he drove there, stumbling inside without waking up anyone.

He found you. Lying in bed with JJ.

So he read it. How else was he suppose to read it? You were in bed with JJ. Your bodies tangled together. JJ had his shirt off. What guy didn’t sleep with his shirt off in the outer banks?

He thought about beating the shit out of him, but instead, it hit him. A way to hurt you more, emotionally, permanently.

So in a silent fit of rage, he stormed out of the Chateau.

The next morning, JJ woke up before you. He gently moved you off of him so you wouldn’t wake up. And turned to his phone to check the time.

When he did, though, he was surprised by the messages he received by an unknown number. He sat up, sitting at the edge of the bed, and unlocked his phone.

When he opened the messages, there was no text. Just images.

“Fuck,” JJ mumbled in a disappointed tone. They were pictures of you.

He scrolled through them, there were only two, but he felt ridden with guilt at the sight.

You were topless, covering your chest with one arm. And wearing a flimsy white thong-like underwear.

You didn’t take the picture yourself, it was taken with flash, probably by the person that sent it to him.

You had one hand out, as if saying stop, and the next one you were covering your face. There was a small smile on your face. But more of a nervous one than overwhelmingly happy.

JJ frowned. He’s never seen you in this way, he knew if you ever found out you would hate him. This is not how he wanted it to go.

JJ pressed the off button and set his phone down. He needed to get this guilt off of him, maybe a smoke would help.

You felt JJ gone, so you decided it was time to get up as well. You groaned at the intensity of the sun. Your window was facing the sunrise.

You hoped it wasn’t too early, you reached for your phone on the beside to check the time.

Instead you grabbed JJs. You could tell because it was cracked all over. You knew his password too, it was something like 911.

Nonetheless, you pressed the screen and saw the time it was 7:00am.

You decided to text Kie and see if she was awake. So you opened messages.

Your eyes immediately filled with tears. Nude photos of you were on JJ’s phone. You immediately felt sick inside, so vulnerable, so afraid. JJ saw these.

The tears fell, you were crying now. Not able to look at the photos anymore. You dropped the phone on the floor.

It made a somewhat loud noise, and soo after JJ entered the room.

He didn’t say anything until he saw you, he saw your face decorated with tears, “oh shit...what happened?” He said, oblivious as usual.

“N-nothing...I’m ..Im going home,” you muttered, sniffling and trying to walk past him.

“Hey, hey. Uh.. hold up. Didn’t you say you got locked out of your house,” JJ added.

“I’ll break a window,” you deadpanned, trying to get past him. Again he stepped infront.

“Y/n. Please hold up,” he gently grabbed both of your shoulders, so you were facing him.

But you avoided eye contact, you didn’t want him to see you cry.

“You- you can’t do this....how could you do this to me?” You shuffled, trying to push past him still.

“Do what?!” He asked, completely shocked.

“Whatever JJ. I don’t want to look at you. Get the fuck out of my way,” you demanded, pushing his hands off of you.

“Chill! Explain to me what I did Y/n/n,” he pleaded. JJ used your nickname, maybe to show that he really cared. Which was odd for him to show.

You sighed, realizing he was stronger than you anyways, you couldn’t get past him.

You opened your mouth to speak but instead more tears fell down your cheeks.

JJ sighed is sadness, pulling you into a hug. You didn’t return the hug. But felt nice to let him.

As he was hugging you, he finally noticed his phone on the floor, and understood what you had seen.

“This about those pictures? Y/n I swear I didn’t ask for them, some random person texted them to me last night while we were sleeping.” He explained.

You cried harder, finally clinging to JJs shirt.

“Why would he do that? JJ, I didn’t want you to see that. I didn’t even want them to be taken. I’m not a slut...please...” you mumbled, pleading for him to believe you.

“I know. I know okay? You’re beautiful. I’ll keep this between you and me okay? It’s gonna be okay.” JJ suggested, rubbing your back.

You’d never seen him so soft, maybe this was what you needed from him.

You told JJ that your ex sent them to him, and JJ took it upon himself to later beat him up until he deleted the photos and swore to never send them out again.

It took you a minute to see JJ the same way, he’s still your best friend. And maybe, you could appreciate his sweetness another way. Was it normal for best friends to share the bed together the way you do?

🤍 thanks for reading 🤍

JJ masterlist

#jj maybank #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #outer banks #obx netflix #jj imagine jjxreader obx #obx jj #obx jj maybank x you #outerbanks #jj outer banks #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank x reader #pogues for life #obx kiara #jj maybank imagines #jj x reader outerbanks

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snowflake-of-destruction · 3 years

Note

let's hear about FFVIII seifer, if you're still doing this XD

Why I like them: You know my tastes. A green-eyed man is introduced throwing fireballs around, is kind of a condescending jerk but in a fun way, instigates deep conversations on high ground while staring at the sunset...Well, before we even get to villainy, immolation, and redemption arc, I start going “Is this a favorite character?” I’m joking...kind of. Some of that does factor in, even the fire.

Okay, so my favorite thing about Seifer’s arc is that, in the limited focus he’s given, he’s complex and layered from the beginning, and his villain arc is a clear and fascinating illustration of “No man chooses evil because it is evil; he only mistakes it for happiness, the good he seeks” ….with a side of brainwashing.

Let’s break this down:

What are some of the words used to describe him by those that know him (by himself, by Squall, by Fuu and Rai)? Romantic. Idealistic. Sensitive. He is the one who believes in making a difference in the world--not just as a wish or goal, but as an imperative to do what your heart says is right even if it’s going to cost you--where Squall is just follow-the-orders-and-do-the-job. If you’re already reading this and objecting, I’m not saying Squall doesn’t care...obviously he does, defrosting Mr. Go Talk to a Wall and getting him to a place where he admits how many layers of mask he wears is his character development...but Seifer isn’t just a hothead. He wears his heart on his sleeve.

Don’t get me wrong. I am not trying to deny that Seifer can be an abrasive, self-serving, hypocritical jackass sometimes, who can fight dirty, wants to “wreak some havoc,” and has a history as a bully--though, gentlefolk of the jury, I submit to the courts that he puts on a tough act like Squall does and they are both different flavors of trying to mimic toxic alpha male--but let’s not forget that some of his establishing character moments are throwing out his future to disobey orders because he sees that the higher-ups have possibly misjudged the situation and civilians could be in danger, and, again, going AWOL because he thinks Squall and Rinoa could be killed. And he calls himself the white knight and holds up a code of honor until the end, even though it gets twisted. He is about duty and honor, with honor even over duty.

Oh, this was only going to be the beginning. I haven’t even begun to touch on what I would want to touch on--this is just surface personality and the beginning of the game before we even get to joining Sorceress Edea, and even then not all I would say-- but this post isn’t actually supposed to be my Ted talk on what you missed if you just think of Seifer as a recurring boss fight. Let’s move on.

ONE MORE THING ACTUALLY. Even though we see a lot of Seifer at his worst, you can use Fujin and Raijin as a mirror. What do they say near the end of the game if we paraphrase/summarize? They knew pretty early on, before even the senseless slaughter and torture era that Seifer was going down a dark path with the sorceress, but they knew it wasn’t him and stayed with him, not because they agreed with his actions, wanted power, or out of fear, but to take care of him and try to break through to him--and not because they are saints, but because he, despite what had happened in the past year, is the type of person who deserves and inspires that kind of loyalty. Let’s think on that.

Now the rest goes under a read more, because I am going to keep rambling and be wordy

Why I don’t: He can be an asshole, and he’s an asshole in an embarrassing way. As in, if one is trying to say he’s not the little punk his KH counterpart is, you remember he still uses the insult chickenwuss (though that is a legacy insult/nickname since he’s known Zell since childhood--and, fyi, Squall uses it too) and he had a little gang in school. Even once he’s a military commander of an evil army set on world domination, he has some moments where his level of petty undermines him.

Favorite episode (scene if movie): The Dollet mission

Favorite line: Sorry, not sorry that the following is my favorite exchange of lines and that the prison torture scene is another of my favorite scenes. For context, Seifer has captured Squall, has him hanging up on the wall in crucified hero imagery, implied to be shirtless even though his character model isn’t because they talk about scar tissue or lack thereof from a recent shoulder injury/Squall being stabbed in the chest/shoulder area. Seifer has been electrocuting Squall for information. By this point, I might as well have put the whole scene here. Also, I am now going to blame Squall and Seifer text boxes in FFVIII for my own abuses of ellipses...

Seifer: " I was hoping you'd be there, Squall. So... how'd I look in my moment of triumph? My childhood dream, fulfilled. I've become the sorceress' knight."

Squall: [internal monologue] ...Sorceress' knight... ...His...romantic dream...? But... Seifer... Now, you're just a…[Out loud] "... torturer."

[Squall passes out.]

Seifer: "What did you say? [Steps closer] Passed out cold, eh? This is the scene where you swear your undying hatred for me! The tale of the evil mercenary versus the sorceress' knight!”

This isn’t just me all “mmm, tension.” Seifer has passed the moral event horizon, and it’s not just faceless NPCs that are collateral damage anymore. We’ve seen him on screen torture the protagonist, who is also one of the only people who he’s shown to have a real bond with that goes beyond superficial. Then we get this and see Seifer thinks he’s the good guy still, on a noble mission where he’s had to make painful sacrifices, and Squall is a representative of the power-hungry evil. Seifer’s been playing a different game, and had his will twisted via magic.

Favorite outfit: The Amano art where the white coat is cast off and he’s wearing the simple black shirt and black jeans under it. Symbolic? Maybe. I wouldn’t give up the coat though. I love the long white/gray coat, the outer embodiment of wanting to wear the white hat, but the desire easily getting tarnished, and the red cross that turns into a sword and becomes Seifer’s symbol and soon to appear other places, emblazoned nice and big on the sleeve. It’s the Cross of Saint James. TRADITIONALLY red represents the blood of Christ, the three lilies represent the honor of the apostle and reference Christ as lily of the valley, and the sword shape represents the torture that St.James suffered before his murder. HOWEVER, my opinion is that here it’s more vague/altered symbolism (For starters, there are other gods not the Christian God in this world) with a side of “looks cool.” We still have something that clearly calls to mind a mission from on high, innocence in the lilies, blood and blood cost, and then war/violence with the sword. And I love it.

OTP: Seifer/Squall. I should not even start, but lest you think I am just in it for kinky torture scenes: We have these two who, in the beginning, are generally callous or mocking toward everyone, but make each other laugh/smile, see who each other are underneath and describe each other in “soft” terms even if they tease each other for it, repeatedly check in on each other to see if the other is okay, respect each other’s opinion and skills, and...you get the idea. In the words of Zell Dincht, I thought you two were rivals, but you’re all buddy-buddy.

Pause for a second and let’s just say first impression. That opening fight where they scar each other’s faces? It takes place outside Balamb Garden and the area is shown so we see they are alone. Squall passes out. Squall wakes up in the infirmary within the Garden base. Squall has to explain what happened; people don’t already know. This kind of implies after Squall passed out, Seifer, bleeding from a head wound himself, picked Squall up and carried him home, allowing himself to collapse only when Squall was being safely tended to, because he’s that extra. This is his first (okay, second, after fireballs and face slashing) action in the game even though it’s offscreen. I mean, he could have also just called for help/ran for help, but that’s less fun.

Seifer is so concerned with being a badass, but he’s admits to Squall all he’s ever wanted was to be the fairytale knight, not a mere soldier. Vulnerability and confession he wants romance....with the first time it’s brought up in game being while they are watching the sun set together, the traditional Square Red Sunset of Shipping.

Seifer hesitates to defy orders, not for himself, but until he sees Squall is with him. Even though there were other “children of destiny” who all came from the same orphanage, Squall and Seifer were the ones who were never apart, never adopted until it was by a military/mercenary training program, and, even though it may speak more to brotherly than romantic from some angles, there’s a feeling of being the same, knowing each other down to the atoms, adopting an us against the world mindset that trumps trying to best each other when it comes down to it because they are the only constant. When Squall has his breakdown/ breakthrough of why he pushes people away/doesn’t let himself care/tries not to need anyone because people leave/are taken from him and he is scared he isn’t worthy of love and happiness until Rinoa challenges him, this may seem like a dismissal of Seifer, but you can also look at it from “I had no friends or family. I didn’t even have interest in speaking to anyone. I strived to be an unfeeling machine, because all emotion is pain...But also I couldn’t go 48 hours without seeing Seifer.”

Yeah, yeah, we know their main form of hanging out was beating the tar out of each other, but sometimes, especially in older media, this was its own brand of subtext. For more on how Seifer miiiight just view sparring let’s point out that “Isn’t this ROMANTIC?” and “Kneel” as a less easily interpreted as innuendo version of “I want you on your knees” are battle quotes even in Kingdom Hearts sooo draw your own conclusion.

We get a line where Squall makes it clear these were friendly matches looked at as pushing their limits beyond what they are allowed to in sanctioned spars, and he feels prepared to take on anything now because of Seifer. Is it healthy communication in real life? No! Is this real life? No! Plus, the facial scar was an accident, pretty clearly...on Seifer’s side...I could write another essay on how Seifer draws first blood, but it’s because on Squall’s failed block, AND THEN SQUALL GETS ANGRY AND RETALIATES WITH CLEAR PURPOSE AND MAKES THE OPENING SHOT INTO THE FIRST SIGN GOOD VERSUS BAD GUY ISN’T SO CLEAR CUT (even though they both shouldn’t have been going so hard in a friendly training match to begin with).

Seifer’s later, repeated threats/expressed desire to give Squall additional scars once he goes evil? That is a different animal, and a horrible one, objectively. Not objectively? No comment. Okay, one comment. Mark you as mine. Two comments. He knows Squall’s lost some memories and he can’t stomach being the next thing forgotten so Squall needs physical reminders.

Hmmm, I was supposed to be talking about the ship, not just the sparring and scars. We can wrap it up with a Marge Simpson. “I just think they’re neat”

BUT ONE MORE THING

Squall’s jacket when he becomes Leon in Kingdom Hearts. His outfit is mostly the same, right? Except the back of the jacket now has a red patch of an emblem (of Rinoa’s angel wings, not Seifer’s cross...for the OT3 feel), and his fight with Sora he throws a fireball like Seifer’s signature. Just, you know, if you want bonus references/feeling.

Brotp: Fuu and Rai. They are willing to commit war crimes with this man, nurse him back from death’s door, and go into exile with him if he can’t return to a normal life even after a redemption arc. This section deserves to be long, but I am beginning to get talked out. Don’t take that as devaluing the friendship though. I’m glad he was allowed to keep his ride or dies in Kingdom Hearts. FRIENDSHIP! They love him, ya know?

Head Canon: What we see of him at the end of the game is a temporary situation and after he heals and refreshes for awhile he’d go back to Balamb and face consequences for his actions, and probably insist on consequences instead of leaning into “an evil sorceress bespelled me and slowly took my free will.” No hiding away in the wilderness. No crossing into and living his life in Esthar. No, “but in the end I broke free and would have been an active, onscreen part of saving the world if Square had let me join the party!” He would insist on being cast into a deep, dark cell. Squall uses pull to get him pardoned, but not before just, flat out, yelling at him for being a martyr.

Unpopular opinion: He did love Rinoa. It may have been a “shallow love,” but he wasn’t just dating her to pass time or because she played into his damsel who needs a hero mindset. There was emotion. He was prepared to die for her and Squall in Timber, and almost did--only being saved by Sorceress Edea...which wasn’t a kindness, but it all worked out in the end. Sure, he gets mind-controlled into using Rinoa as, basically, a human sacrifice and it isn’t Rinoa he wants stripped and brought to his room when we’re taking prisoners, but he cared about her. He does taunt her about their past relationship, but we’ve already established this is just part of his communication skillset. Yes, I will elaborate more if asked, though it’s more feeling based than text based.

A wish: If there’s ever a sequel, let him have put out the good in the world that was his dream and be seen as a hero. Let us see a matured and peaceful Seifer.

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: My one fear if they ever remake FFVIII instead of just porting it, is that some of the creative team have said they like the fan theory where you are dead part way through the game and the rest is a dying dream or purgatory. It’s creative stuff; I will say that. It’s not my favorite, and I don’t agree, but those kinds of fan interpretations when they go in depth are super cool. PLEASE LET THE INTEREST IN IT JUST BE THE SAME AS MINE OF THINKING IT’S CREATIVE BECAUSE MAKING THIS CANON WOULD BE SO, SO BAD FOR EVERY CHARACTER.

5 words to best describe them: stubborn, misguided, paladin, romantic, petty

My nickname for them: I don’t really have one

#seifer almasy #seifer x squall #squall x seifer #such a long post and still not all or even communicated that well probably #you don't have all the facts the facts are i love him #tina-nina

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ghostly-cabbage · 3 years

Text

Frigid (Chapter 3)

Genre: Horror, Angst, Enemies to Friends

Chapter Rating: M (Language, Underage Drug Use)

Word Count: 5,326

AO3 FFN

<<Previous | Next>>

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Dear old Dad got home late that night while Wes and Kyle were tucking into a plate of pizza rolls. Wes heard the door open and his Dad's voice from down the hall.

"Tell Roger that it doesn't matter, whatever it takes, Mr. Masters expects it to get done." He walked past the living room without so much as a glance at the two of them. His voice faded down the hall punctuated by the sound of his door closing.

Wes snorted and stuffed another pizza roll in his mouth. Stupid Dad with his stupid government job. Why the hell bring them to Illinois just to ignore them? He curled his fingers into the upholstery of their new couch, gripping it until his fingertips ached and the smell from the Ikea warehouse threatened to make him sick. He forced himself to swallow the bite and shoved his plate onto the coffee table.

He got up and went to the kitchen for a capri-sun. If it hadn't been Kyle that bought them, he'd be pissed about that too. His Dad seemed to treat him like he was still in elementary school no matter how old he got.

Wes slammed the fridge door hard enough he heard the dressing and condiment bottles rattle inside. He went back to the living room, the TV illuminating the space in it's flickering light.

He flopped backwards onto the couch, pushing his back into the corner of the sectional, wishing it'd swallow him up. Kyle was watching some alien history documentary. How ghosts could be pure fiction but aliens were "science-fact" was beyond Wes. He rolled his eyes and got out his phone, pulling up his knees.

Instagram was a short reprieve, or it should have been. He scrolled past post after post of his old friends back in California, smiling wide in front of the beach, or the boys at the park playing basketball. Over there they hadn't even started school yet, and wouldn't until the end of the month. To say he envied them was a gross understatement.

"Are you gonna eat those?" Wes glanced up over his knees to see his brother pointing at his abandoned pizza rolls.

"Go for it," he said. Kyle scooped up his plate and went to town. Wes really should be doing his chapter reading for History, but the thought made him want to set something on fire. A part of him felt like he should be grateful for a fresh start after the divorce, but another part of him wanted nothing more than to dig his heels in. Just because his Mom was a liar and his Dad was an asshole didn't mean they had to move across the country, why didn't they get that? Maybe they did, and just didn't care.

He scrolled on his phone long enough for Kyle to watch another episode. By the end Wes had been sitting and refreshing his feed over and over again. He watched the buffer wheel spin, screen go white and the same post as last time take its most recent position at the top. He pulled down again, and watched the wheel spin for the millionth time.

"Dude, this is just depressing to watch."

He glanced over at Kyle, narrowing his eyes. "Got nothing better to do." It was a lie and they both knew it. Kyle flicked the TV off and stood up from the couch.

"C'mon." Kyle came to stand in front of him expectantly.

"What?"

"Let's go have roof time."

Wes made a face. "You're so weird, don't call it that. Cringy as fuck, man."

Kyle grabbed a pillow and swung it lazily towards Wes' head. "C'moooon lil bro! It's roof time!" He said it in a big brother voice that always pissed Wes off.

"No. Fuck off." Wes held up an arm to shield his head.

"C'mon!" Kyle insisted. "Don't you wanna spend time with your brother?" he pouted. He swung the pillow at him again.

"I'm gonna kick you in the balls."

"Weeeeesslleeeyyyy! C'mooooon."

"Oh my god, you're so fucking annoying." Wes kicked half-heartedly towards his brother. He held up both arms to try and fend off the onslaught of his brother's pillow attack.

"I'll stop if you agree to go sit outside with me, Wes! Surrender, you're out matched, kid!" Kyle picked up another pillow in his left hand, and continued batting at him. Wes tried to bury the beginnings of a smile behind a sour expression.

"You just—Ow, stop— You just wanna go get high, don't you?"

"Oh, absolutely. But you think I'm going to sit out there alone like some kind of loser?"

Wes anticipated his brother's next swing, and snatched the pillow from him. Now it was his turn. True to his word, he kicked a foot out directly into his brother's crotch. Kyle grunted and stumbled back a step, hands going down to grab his groin. Wes capitalized on his opportunity and lunged forward, springing off the couch to tackle his brother to the ground.

They hit the carpet with a loud thud, and became a tangle of limbs.

"Oh it's on, kiddo!" Wes couldn't hold back a laugh as he wrestled his brother. He attempted to push the pillow onto Kyle's face at the same time as his brother was trying to twist his arm around in a joint lock.

"Shut up, you're only a year older than me," Wes said, wriggling out of his brother's grip, and yanking his hat down over his eyes.

"A destined rematch to determine the stronger brother! A tale as old as time!" Kyle fought blindly to get a hold back on Wes. Wes whacked him on the side of the head with the pillow.

"You're a moron," he said without any real venom. Kyle flung his hat away.

"Don't make me purple nurple you like last time."

Wes hit him again with the pillow as Kyle tried to steal it from him. "Try it, bitch, I'll kick your ass."

"I did wrestling for two years!"

"Yeah, in middle school, now you're just lame and out of shape."

Kyle gasped. "Bro, take it back." He twisted the pillow hard to the right and broke Wes' hold on it.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. You're not out of shape, just the lame part." Wes tried to get out of Kyle's reach to escape retribution, but he wasn't fast enough. Kyle got a hold of his shirt, and yanked him into a headlock. It had no real pressure behind it.

"Hah ha! What have we here? Could it possibly be that I win again?"

Wes rolled his eyes and pushed up on his brother's arm to break the loop. "Shut up, stupid-ass," he muttered. They broke apart, and Kyle stood up, offering him a hand. Wes accepted it with a puff. Kyle yanked him to his feet and punched him in the center of his chest.

"Ow."

"Kyle : 1 Wes : 0!"

Wes stopped. "Hey, wait, our score was up in the hundreds! What gives? I was winning you asshole." He'd challenged Kyle to a game of Horse last month and it had been a slaughter to say the least. Kyle was walking towards the stairs.

"Nu-uh, new-state-clean-slate, bro, we're starting over!"

"That's stupid, and I didn't agree to that. You're just a sore loser." Wes trudged up the stairs after his brother.

"Guess you'll just have to wait till our next rematch." Kyle shrugged, pushing into his room with a shoulder. Their rooms shared a wall, Kyle's being the furthest down the hall. They both had north facing windows that had access to the brow of the roof which overlooked the pool in the backyard. Moving from a place with obscene living expenses to the armpit of Illinois had its perks he guessed.

"Pick the challenge then. How about MarioKart?" he offered.

"After last time? No way dude." Kyle went to his bedside table to retrieve a small baggie of weed and his pipe and lighter. Not that their Dad ever checked, but a pipe was easier to hide, and less hassle than a bong. Or so Kyle said. Wes didn't really mess around with the stuff if he could help it. The times he tried made him so paranoid it felt like the end was nigh.

"Ugh, fine, princess. What about Smash?" Wes slid the window open and popped out the screen.

"Best outta five?"

"Sure, tomorrow after school? You can't play worth shit while high."

"Bruh, I'm great at playing while high, makes all the distractions just—" he wiggled his fingers— "fall away."

Wes snorted. "Sure, keep telling yourself that. The AI Pikachu wiped the floor with you." Wes climbed out onto the roof, scooting to the side so Kyle had room to clamber out. Kyle handed him his pipe to hold and followed after.

"No, that's not what happened, okay?" Kyle pointed an accusing finger. "I let that adorable little rat fuck win, because what kind of monster would I be if I destroyed Pikachu?"

Wes rolled his eyes. Kyle settled next to him, hanging his legs over the side and reached for his stuff back. Wes looked up at the sky, leaning his weight back on his hands. It was another clear night, the stars bright and unblemished. He heard the flick of his brother's lighter, but paid it no mind. The lack of light pollution was nice, if there was one positive from this whole situation, it was that.

The wind stirred, a chill laced in that made Wes wish he'd brought his jacket. He was looking forward to the snow. He'd only seen snow once when was ten and his parents took all of them on a skiing trip to Lake Tahoe. He remembered biting it on the bunny hill, and how Kyle laughed so much while picking him up that he'd dropped him more than once. The memory felt brittle, like if he touched on it too much it might break into a million pieces. It always felt like that, remembering what it was like to be happy, to be a family. His parents had broken enough, he wanted this thing, this one little thing to stay whole.

Was it childish to want that?

He glanced at Kyle, who exhaled a plume of smoke, the slope of his shoulders loose and relaxed. For all his flaws and his seriously maddening, downright annoying personality, Wes was glad to have Kyle. After the divorce they'd gotten closer, and he wasn't really sure where he'd be right now without his brother.

Not that he'd ever admit something so fucking embarrassing out loud. Jesus, what was he? He sounded like a Hallmark card.

He rubbed an eye, and laid back, the shingles of the roof cold against his back. The two were in a comfortable silence, Kyle too preoccupied with making short work of the bowl he'd packed to make conversation yet. That was alright with Wes. He was tired and still a little freaked out after today. He knew better than to bring up his run in with the ghost at school to Kyle.

This place was weird, and he had so many questions he felt like he was going insane. First thing tomorrow he was going to ask someone what the hell was going on in this town. He could try and ask the Danny Fenton kid, since his parents were apparently the ghost experts. He rolled the idea around for a few seconds in his head. Maybe it'd be best to ask more than one person. Leave Danny as a last resort.

He was staring at the first stars of Orion as they peaked over the dark horizon. That's when he saw it. His brows furrowed and he sat up.

"Dude, do you see that?" He smacked the back of his hand against Kyle's arm.

"What?" Kyle looked up.

"That!" He pointed. In the sky and getting closer was a glowing streak.

It wasn't a star, or a comet, that was for damn sure. It was flying in a wide circling pattern. It was fast, whatever it was.

Kyle gasped next to him. "Holy shit, a UFO." Kyle fumbled around to try and get his phone, in his haste he sent his lighter tumbling down the roof and off the edge. Wes trained his eyes on the shape as it got closer, squinting. Kyle had gotten his phone and had started recording, feverishly commentating about the time, place, and the appearance of an "alien craft".

Wes leaned forward, straining his eyes. As the shape wound closer it looked… almost humanoid? It seemed to move in a thoughtful systematic way. Like it was covering specific ground.

"I'm so putting this on my Snapchat story," Kyle said. He turned his phone towards Wes. "Say hi! In case it goes viral."

"Dude, stop." Wes pushed his brother's phone away from his face and back towards the… well. UFO.

As suddenly as it had appeared, it sharply changed direction and flew away, before blipping out of existence entirely. It hadn't gotten close enough to identify, but Kyle seemed to only care about his video and nothing else. Wes sat there thoroughly confused, staring at the point in the sky the shape had vanished into thin air.

"Clearly this is evidence of alien superior technology. The fact it sped up and disappeared so fast means they've cracked flight speeds faster than light, dude!" Kyle buzzed. He was tapping on his phone, already sending the video to everyone he knew.

Aliens, really? Could this day get any weirder?

"Look, look, Hannah, snapped me back." Kyle leaned over so they could both see his screen. He opened the Snap, and Wes saw a girl with blonde hair and dark eye shadow. He vaguely recognized her from school, part of Kyle's new stoner group of friends. The video showed just the top of her face as she looked down at her phone. Her eyes were crinkled at the corners.

"Kyle, what the fuck," she laughed. "That's not an alien, doofus. It's clearly a ghost. Probably Phantom. He flies around almost every night." She leaned back and sprayed canned whipped cream directly into her mouth. " 'Aliens'! Oh my god I'm totally telling Jennie." She snorted as she laughed and the snap ended.

Phantom? That was Phantom? The image of the ghost boy from earlier lingered in his mind. Kyle was already recording a video to send back.

"Hannah, obviously you have very little experience with UFO's. I know an alien when I see one and that was an A L I E N. Okay? Don't buy into this ghost conspiracy, it's what people want you to think, but it's probably all aliens! Or beings from like the 4th dimension, I don't know."

His brother's voice sounded too loud. His eyes traced the place where the shape… the ghost had been. He rubbed at his temples with his fingers. Kyle continued arguing with his new local friends, protesting the idea of ghosts. Wes sighed, a headache building behind his eyes.

He nudged his brother with an elbow. "I'm gonna get to bed." Kyle gave him a distracted goodbye and Wes headed back inside, mind swirling with the image of white hair and glowing green eyes.

***

Joy.

His sleep that night had been fitful and interrupted. He didn't have any nightmares, or at least none he could remember, thank God. But there were a few times he could have sworn there was someone standing in his doorway, watching. He shook it from his thoughts by busying himself with his camera.

The final bell for first period rang and with it commenced the beginning of the school day.

Students with no cameras of their own were having some checked out to them for photography class. The teacher told them to check over everything and make sure all previous files were deleted from the memory card, and there were no cracked lenses. He ignored the majority of what was being said.

When he was young he would use his Mom's camera. Just to mess around really, it wasn't like he had the lofty goals of being a professional photographer. But his Mom didn't see it like that. She bought him lenses and his own high-end camera for his 16th birthday. That was before everything fell apart. Before he found out about Emily.

Once the class started going he hoped he'd enjoy it and actually learn something. He was ready to start taking pictures already. Unfortunately, the day's class was all about the different buttons and functions on the cameras, explaining exposure, aperture and manually managing the iso. Uck. Yawn.

Towards the end of class Ms. Fletcher let them have "free time" to explore the options on their cameras on their own. Learn by doing and all that.

"This is way too much all at once," complained the girl next to him. Mia, was her name, if he remembered correctly. She had brown hair, and light eyes, her tan skin suggesting a mixed heritage. She was turning her camera around in her hands like a kid trying to find the on switch on a new toy. He smiled, turning toward her.

"First time using a fancy camera?"

She let out an agitated sigh. "Yeah. I took this class because I thought it'd be easy and I could just, I don't know, take cute pictures of my dog or something." She put the camera down on the table, gently, like she was afraid of breaking it despite her frustration.

"Yeah, it can be complicated at first." He lifted his own to inspect it.

"You brought your own, right? That's not a shitty school one."

"Yeah, it's mine. Birthday gift."

Mia whistled. "Pricy, your parents must be loaded."

Wes shrugged a shoulder, "I wouldn't say that exactly."

"Don't be modest, it's okay!" She patted him on the shoulder. "Plus I'm sure however rich your family is, it's nowhere near the Mansons."

"The Mansons?"

"Uh...yeah." She looked confused for a second before understanding flickered in her eyes. "Oh, that's right you're new. Sam Manson, the spooky goth chick that hangs around Fenton and Foley. She's in our homeroom class." She held her pointer fingers up by her ears to mime bat ears.

"Oh, yeah, her."

"She says she doesn't like people knowing even though it's super obvious. Her parents are always in the news for making donations and stuff."

They fell into an awkward silence, and Mia shuffled her feet.

"Well, uh. Tell you what. If you help me with this camera crap, I'll…" She stopped to think. "I'll give you the inside scoop about the school. Help you get caught up and fit in, ya'know?" She held her hand towards him. "Sound good?"

Wes would have helped her out even if she hadn't offered to keep him in the social loop. It could be useful, especially for a few things in particular.

"Deal." He shook her hand, a little surprised by her grip strength.

"I'm not as popular as Paulina and Star but I still have an ear to the ground. So if you want to know who's single or who can write your english essay on the cheap: I'm your girl." She pulled her hand back to jab a thumb at her chest for emphasis.

Wes chuckled. "Thanks. I actually do have some questions."

"Shoot."

"This Phantom ghost, what do you know about him?"

She looked surprised, before she smiled. There was something in her expression that Wes couldn't place.

"Phantom? Really?" She shrugged. "Alright, I see you." She scooted her chair closer to his. "Phantom showed up freshman year, no one knows why, but since he popped up he's been saving Amity from all sorts of ghosts." She said it like it was the most normal, perfectly sane thing. "Not only is he hella cute but he's also basically a hero."

Wes frowned in confusion. That wasn't at all what Mr. and Mrs. Fenton had said. "Why would a ghost help people? What's he get out of it? Also, isn't he… you know. Dead? Isn't it kinda creepy to have a crush on him?"

"How should I know? And dead or alive, he's still a total heart throb around here, get used to it." She sighed, looking fed up with his lack of understanding. "Listen, all I do know is that if an evil ghost is breathing down your neck your only real hope in this place is Phantom. Really, ask anyone." Wes' thoughts drifted back to his brush with death yesterday..

"You shouldn't be telling people the fantasy version of things, Mia," came a cold voice. Wes jumped, turning to look at the girl looming over them. Her arms were crossed over her chest, curly hair back lit by the fluorescent bulbs in the ceiling. Fantasy version? What was Valerie talking about?

Mia's face went from warm and open to closed and stand-offish. She crossed her legs and sat back in her chair.

"Oh come on Valerie, we all know you're not a fan of him, but you could at least try and be reasonable."

"Reasonable? Don't listen to her new kid," Valerie jabbed a finger towards him, "if there's one thing Phantom is good at, it's manipulating the public perception. Don't be fooled like the rest of this school, Phantom will ruin your life without an ounce of remorse."

Wes blinked, caught off guard by her ferocity. In chemistry she seemed like a perfectly normal, kind girl. He made a mental note not to get on her bad side.

Mia made a dismissive sound in the back of her throat. "He wasn't asking you Valerie, he was asking me. Butt out."

Mia and Valerie glared hard at each other, neither backing down. It went on for what felt like ever. Wes was afraid he was about to end up right in the middle of a cat fight. But eventually, Valerie let out a sound of disgust then turned and stalked off back to her table. Mia watched her go, gaze steady. Once Valerie sat down, Mia relaxed and let out a breath.

"God, she really needs to get that stick out of her ass."

"What the hell was that about?"

"Apparently freshman year her Dad lost his job and she's convinced it was Phantom's fault." Mia uncrossed her legs, sitting more casually again.

"Was it?"

Mia looked annoyed. "I don't know, I wasn't there." She ran her fingers through her hair, taking a small swatch and braiding it absentmindedly. "Listen, people have different opinions... but Phantom saved my life." It was small and serious the way she said it, like it was a confession. "And not just once but on several occasions. It's fine to ask questions, I don't blame you. But just wait and watch, then decide for yourself." Before Wes could say or ask anymore, the bell rang. Mia started collecting her stuff.

"See you tomorrow, Wes," she said brightly, as if the seriousness from before was just a figment of his imagination.

Sixth period rolled around and Wes was ready for the day to be over with already.

In his previous classes he'd asked other students here and there about the ghosts, and even if he didn't directly ask about Phantom, the conversation eventually led there anyway.

"Uh, yeah. Tomorrow." He watched her go, getting up and gathering his own belongings.

***

He did regret asking Star during lunch, which seemed to have summoned Paulina from the aether. She went on almost the entire lunch period about how her and the ghost boy were "meant to be" and how cute he was, with his snow white hair and tanned skin. Wes was debating faking a family emergency to get away from her. Talk about obsessed.

He shook his head at the memory and closed his locker.

He started walking down the hall, daydreaming about whatever gourmet frozen dinner him and Kyle would have later for dinner. He was about to turn the corner down the hall towards the chem room when he heard a raised voice.

Next up: Chemistry. At the thought he deflated further. He'd totally forgotten about the quiz today. Damnnit, Fenton.

“Hey Fentina, watch where you’re fucking going.” He turned towards the sound to look. The halls were clearing, there being only a minute or so till class, but that didn’t stop the few scattered people from stopping to idly watch Dash Baxter slam Danny Fenton against a locker. Wes couldn’t help but wince. From the sound alone he’d guess that was going to leave a bruise.

“You might be taller now but that doesn’t mean I won’t still flatten you, got that?” Dash announced. He was clearly making a show of it. Wes wondered why. Fenton was definitely the lowest on the social ladder, why would someone like Dash need to establish his power over someone who had none? Wes shifted his weight, remembering that trying to apply logic to bullies was a losing battle.

Danny though… He seemed completely... unfazed. He looked at Dash like an overworked retail employee looked at a raving customer. The dark bags under his eyes and the uncaring air he had coupled with his black hoodie and torn jeans made him look like an emo band's wet dream.

“Got it, now can we all get to class, please? I’m trying not to be tardy as much this year,” Danny said. Dash leaned further into Danny’s space.

“Dream on, Fenton,” Dash leered. He leaned back and let Danny go. He made to leave, or at least Wes thought he was. Danny seemed to think so too. Which meant he was caught off guard when Dash turned and punched him in the stomach. Even from a few paces away, Wes heard the air rush from Danny’s lungs. He staggered a bit, arm wrapping around his midsection.

Dash laughed and walked off, flexing an arm to his football team buddies who joined in as they made their way down the hall like a pack of hyenas.

As if that was the cue, everyone that had stopped to watch went back to their own business, as if nothing happened. Wes didn’t know what to think at that moment. He knew everyone called Danny a loser, and he hadn’t exactly gotten along with the guy himself but… That felt like a step too far. He couldn’t help but pity the poor dude a bit.

It had been a long time since Wes was the one pushed around the school yard. He remembered what it felt like though, and he had never been in a rush to expose himself to the kind of treatment again. In fact he’d done just about anything to keep himself from the bottom. He’d done his fair share of looking down on losers and saying cruel things to be accepted into the throng of popular kids in California. He wasn’t proud of it, as he got older he realized that. It made his stomach clench with guilt and shame.

He’d have never done what Dash just did though.

Wes watched Danny lean a shoulder against the wall of lockers and catch his breath. He glanced around, and when he was satisfied that no one was still watching, he straightened, took a breath and rolled a shoulder, nonchalant.

Wes felt his brain stutter and stop.

Uh. What?

Just a second ago Danny was writhing in pain the way someone just punched in the gut would, and the next he was acting like he was fine. Like he’d just got done with a leisurely jog.

At this point Wes was starting to wonder if he was being gaslit by this whole school, what the fuck?

He watched Danny put a book into his locker, and then lock it up. He started down the hallway, no evidence he was in any pain or struggling for breath what-so-ever. Wes turned and walked towards the classroom. He didn’t want Danny to know he’d been watching from around the corner.

Wes sat down, spreading out his stuff, trying to make it look like he'd been there for ages. A few seconds later the tardy bell rang. Another few seconds after that, Danny walked in.

“Mr. Fenton, you’re late—”

“Uh-huh.” He didn’t make eye contact with the teacher, just made a beeline for their desk and slumped into his seat. Mrs. Merriweather looked ticked.

“Pick up your tardy slip at the end of class young man.”

“Yep.”

Even Mrs. Merriweather seemed taken aback by Danny’s odd energy, but she said nothing else. Instead she jumped into the lesson plan for the day.

Wes wasn’t paying attention. He was looking at his lab partner, still trying to figure out what he’d just seen. Maybe Danny had just been acting like it was worse than it was to… what, get sympathy? Have Dash back off quicker? Both seemed likely, logical. It must have been, what else could it be?

Danny seemed to feel his eyes on him. He turned to Wes, his blue eyes sharp and angry.

“What?” he snapped.

“Nothing. Sorry.” Wes disengaged, looking down at his blank notebook page. He heard Danny sigh, but he didn’t know what sort of emotion drove it.

Class dragged on, and they didn’t say another word to each other the entire period. But that wasn’t too surprising, considering Danny left in the middle of class.

They’d just got done taking their lab safety quiz, and were handing them back when out of the corner of his eye Wes saw Danny shiver. He also saw a flash of… what looked like smoke? Vape? Was Danny seriously vaping in class?

“Fuck,” Danny muttered under his breath and his hand shot straight up into the air. “Mrs. Merriweather, can I use the bathroom before we start the lab?” Danny’s typically tired and slouched posture had gone ramrod straight, and the air around him felt desperate and panicked. Mrs. Merriwether studied him seriously for a second, before she relented.

“Alright, don’t take too long.”

Danny scrambled from his seat and out the door. It left a weird silence in the classroom.

O….kay? That was weird, super weird. He looked around the class. A student adjacent to him caught his confused look and shrugged.

“He just does that, always has. Some people think he has some sort of chronic illness or something.”

“Quiet please, everyone. I’m passing out the lab instructions and then we’ll be getting started.”

Wes couldn’t help but look towards the door where Danny had disappeared seconds earlier. He felt pretty safe in saying not only was the town weird, but everyone in it. But maybe Danny more so than the others.

#Danny Phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #Danny Phantom fic #phanfic #wesley weston #kyle weston #my writing

21 notes · View notes

reversecreek · 3 years

Note

✵ zloane , bravier , nyla and sean

ZIGGY & SLOANE

their first impression of your muse:

sexy. tugged on her hair literally the first time he saw her hadn’t even had a conversation bt was just like target? located. going? ✈️ annoy her. probably initially just thought she was only at the skate park bc sean was n was like 🙄 then she cld actually skate n he was like 😏 liked that she gave him shit. found it funny pushing her buttons. liked her eyes. probably was like wtf is in the fuckin water in this town yo why all my friends got hot sisters that shit aint right tryna make me a dog....... not that he was even. phased by betraying those boundaries bt. still. i won’t lie his main first impression was probably jst damn bit hot when she glares at me like that. KJHFSGKSJHGKGHSFKGH

current impression:

knows her a little more than he likes to know people. favourite person to argue w. can possibly skate better than him bt if she said so he’d be like “ur off ur fuckin tits man” n then practice secretly on his own for hours that night n get 9457295 scrapes. doesn’t like talking abt her dad like him so one time he put a firework in his mailbox n never admitted it was him. has reactions to youtube videos tht make him snort. quite funny in general rly. drinks a lot not that he can judge it’s just sometimes he notices n once he even snatched her cup n drank the rest so she couldn’t. played it off as their typical fuckery bt he isn’t sure what that feeling was. hasn’t been concerned often enough to know it by name. finds her hot at inappropriate moments like when a movie chara’s dying n he’s meant to be sad. finds her hot when she pisses him off too. thinks mayb she likes the excuse to hold onto him when she rides on his vespa but he kind of likes it too so he’s not about to call it out bc “he isn’t about that deep shit”.

are they attracted to your muse?:

KFJHGKJGHFGKFHSGKSHGKSFGH. imagine i was jst like no <3... yes. he likes to act like he’s less so than he is bt it’s obvious.

something they find frightening about your muse:

i wouldn’t say it frightens him bt sometimes he catches her looking at him a certain way n it unsettles him but he doesn’t know why. usually just pretends he didn’t catch it.

something they find adorable about your muse:

he likes her short hair he’s always ruffling it n tugging on it. whenever she hs bumps n scrapes n bruises from falling off her board n getting back on over n over again jst never giving up or giving a fk. when she acts like she isn’t jealous.

would my muse sacrifice themselves for yours?:

umm. no. he’s an asshole. KGJSHFKGHSKFHGSKFGHKGH. sighs.

would my muse go on a date with yours? platonic/romantic:

no..... sees that as dangerous territory wouldn’t wna blur the lines. looks away.

one word my muse would use to describe yours:

baddie. FKGJHSKGHFGSFHGSKGHSFKHG. demonic (when they’ve had a fight).

would my muse slap yours if they could?:

no. he loves to argue w her but it never feels that Real u know... more like flirting. even when they’re rly pissed off. wld never enter that territory he hates shit like tht w a passion. cue round of applause from the audience for this absolutely low bar.

would my muse hug/kiss yours?:

i feel like they’re not rly huggy people...... ziggy probably puts his arm around her a lot tho he loves doing that. hs kissed her more times than he can count too n doesn’t plan on stopping

BRADLEY & XAVIER

their first impression of your muse:

funny. mean in a more digestible way than she was used to. he had barbs n she liked the way people winced when they tried to swallow his company. when she got paired w him for a class project she met his eyes across the room n he didn’t quickly look away like most ppl. something abt that intrigued her. a sharp fingernail inside her head kept having to itch at something n she realised it was the urge for him to call her a bad name. this weird craving to hear an angry word inside his mouth just for her. she used to think that’s what someone wanting her was like. still does sometimes. this both pissed her off n caught her attention which is a bit of an accomplishment fr someone who gets bored by everyone n everything.

current impression:

his heart’s more good than she expected. it felt a bit like having a cat drop a dead mouse at ur doorstep that u don’t know what to do with when she realised that. she felt uncomfortably like her mother when she couldn’t get out of his bed bc she was too depressed n that rly made her feel like. ill honestly. he did all the right things but suddenly she just felt sick abt the whole situation which is Not the normal reaction to ur bf caring about u but bradley doesn’t understand ppl caring abt her. felt more like pity. she thinks he’s better off. she misses him sometimes bt then she reminds herself she doesn’t miss people. does a good job of believing it. one of the best ppl she’s dated not that she’d say it.

are they attracted to your muse?:

yes..... ws probably. unhinged n rabid when they were dating. very good at hiding it now however. cold at the drop of a hat.

something they find frightening about your muse:

that he witnessed her being vulnerable............ literally grosses her out so much like she’d rather die than. anyone see her like that. when they were dating she’d get paranoid her dad wld somehow find out too n smthn wld happen to him for it. it ws definitely weird for her like the fact she even cared enough to consider tht.

something they find adorable about your muse:

adorable is rly not a word that fits into bradley’s vocabulary GHSFGHSFKGHSFKG bt hm. maybe if he ever tried to tell her what to do one time even casually. she’d b like awww..... u think i do what anyone tells me? that’s so fucking sweet.

would my muse sacrifice themselves for yours?:

in most cases no :/..... however if it was smthn to do w the guys that work for her dad then ya she’d put herself in danger to avoid him being in it.

would my muse go on a date with yours? platonic/romantic:

i mean she has in the past bt bradley’s idea of dates is like. starting a bar fight together. getting thrown out of a club n both falling over into trash cans in a dingy back alley. stealing a car. breaking into a random house n fking in a stranger’s bed. fking in the bk of a movie theatre w a horror movie screening. definitely not dinner or anything like tht. she wldn’t now........ they’re not exactly in a place fr that.....

one word my muse would use to describe yours:

ex. whatever. i know it’s not one word but “some guy”. FGHSKGHFGKSHG >_>

would my muse slap yours if they could?:

no. she’s a violent person bt not xavier.

would my muse hug/kiss yours?:

NO hugging...................... she fronts like she wldn’t kiss him bt like. if a discussion got heated n they were in each other’s faces who’s to say.

NYLA & SEAN

their first impression of your muse:

strange little fella which is a very high compliment. kind of reminded them of an animated turtle come to life in the human realm altho they honestly don’t have an explanation for that it’s just the way their brain works. they love the turtles in finding nemo tho so maybe there’s some sort of correlation. very nice face. they kind of wanted to hold his head like a bowling ball just so they could examine it properly. i feel like when they first met him they probably reached out n smoothed a sticky label onto his forehead that said ‘catfish in chernobyl’ n they had one on their forehead that was blank n then they just wafted a pen mid air n were like ‘wanna play guesses?’ even tho that isn’t the name of the game. as if that was just. a completely normal introduction to someone. FGKHSKHGSFKGHSFKG. feel like sean wld have rolled w that tho so nyla was like :P i like.... if they played another round they’d give sean another sticky label that said ‘the loneliest whale in the world’ n then it’d start a whole conversation abt how nyla thinks they can speak whaleish. (whale spin on elvish).

current impression:

sean makes them think of that artificial blue raspberry flavour some popsicles have n how it’s always rly fun when they stain ur tongue. sweet n exuberant n leaves a bright impression. he lets them ride on his skateboard sometimes rolling along being lead by them holding his hand n nyla likes to shut their eyes like they’re a bird sailing above the clouds. one of their favourite things to do especially when the sun’s out. bc of this nyla thinks sean was a bird in his past life but not a greedy one like a seagull or a plain one like a pigeon. maybe a bluebird bc of his eyes. he makes them laugh a lot. they entrusted him to babysit their children (as pictured) in his hair for a whole day and night once n they had lots of fun with him so nyla thinks he’s very trustworthy and kind. he also is rly easy to talk to like they cld randomly be like “i’ve been thinking lately that maybe homer simpson could’ve been a good figure skater” n sean wldn’t look at them like they’ve lost their marbles he’d just go w it. they like his company a lot.

are they attracted to your muse?:

😏

something they find frightening about your muse:

ummm nothing in particular altho one time when they were rly tripping out bc his eyes are blue n it got them thinking abt the ocean n they always think they can talk to ghosts underwater so they were kind of like. thinking abt ghosts whenever they looked him in the eyes. maybe covered their own w their hands n if sean asked why they told him abt it. suddenly he shut his eyes to make them feel better n it turned into a whole thing where nyla had to lead him around the party like a guide dog.

something they find adorable about your muse:

his nose. watching him talk to his siblings. his hands.

would my muse sacrifice themselves for yours?:

😌 yea

would my muse go on a date with yours? platonic/romantic:

yes............ feel like they’d have fun if they went anywhere tbh........ cn imagine them at a fair eating from the same cotton candy n chattering as they point out things. nyla trying to do that hammer game where u make the meter reach the top n lifting the hammer in the air n falling backwards bc it was heavier than they anticipated.... sean yelling like man down man down..... mayb they take a tab n suddenly the fair is so scary they’re like 😳 we’re in danger...

one word my muse would use to describe yours:

silly (affectionate). sailor (also term of endearment). gnome (same thing again). cool.

would my muse slap yours if they could?:

no ur sick....

would my muse hug/kiss yours?:

ya to both. jst suddenly had a vision too of nyla being cold one time n clinging to sean from the front like a bushbaby in a hug as he carries her around. suddenly this mode of transportation hs happened more thn once (godmod) (contact my lawyers if u dare bebe) (bitch) (i take it back) (it wasn’t right alli it jst wasn’t right) (pelase forigev m eim shakign)

#juvinile #ziggy | sloane #bradley | xavier #nyla | sean #drugs tw #abuse tw #mayb implied fr some briefly mentioned aspects of bradley's mindset #this was such a bertha bt i did it as special treat for allison my beloved.....

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troop-scoop · 4 years

Text

Mistakes & Regrets XII

Summary: When a trip to your Dad’s hometown of Hawkins goes wrong, you end up in the year 1983, and have to learn how to cope with being stuck in the past.

Pairing: Steve Harrington / Future!Reader (like, a really slow burn)

Warnings: swearing

A/n: Last part until we get to season two!

•••

The windows were closed, and the blinds drawn to make the rooms dark, pillows and blankets gathered around the floor. Tv having been moved to the living room, practically in the center of the room for where you and Steve were sitting, backs against the wall and a pizza between you two.

You held the popcorn, and Steve held his coca-cola. The sound of bubbles in the aluminum can be heard during the quiet scenes of the movie you’d picked up at the video store. It was calming after the week you’d had. There wasn’t much else you really wanted to do other than watch a movie with someone, even if that someone kept complaining about the movie at every chance they got.

You’d picked it out while the two of you waited for Nancy to finish up her family dinner so she could come over with ‘Grease’ which you’d never seen before.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault that you hadn’t. But considering you were born twenty-six years after it came out, and it was a classic that was always brought up in pop culture, you were a bit out of the loop.

But when you grew up with one father who was more into action movies and sifi, and the other who was more the ‘grunge’ type from the 90’s, the movie was never on your radar.

Steve gave a heavy and over exaggerated sigh as the chestburster turned it’s head on the screen.

You mimicked the alien creature and slowly turned your head to look at the older boy. “What shit are you talking in that peanut sized brain of yours?” You questioned, grabbing the remote and pausing the movie.

Steve just shrugged continuing to look at the paused tv. “Just thinking about how boring this is.”

“Boring?” You demanded, almost personally offended by his words while you stared at him intently, gripping the remote.

“Yes, Y/n, boring.” He looked at you almost dramatically.

“Aliens!” You exclaimed, hopping onto your knees and staring at him, throwing the remote down onto a pillow. “This is about aliens, but not about them invading earth, and you have the fucking audacity to sigh in boredom?”

You didn’t miss him trying to hide a grin. “I’d rather be in Mr. Haul’s class.”

“I’m gonna use the bathroom, then I’m coming back out to beat your ass.” You told him, grabbing a handful of popcorn and throwing it in his face while you stood and all Steve could do was try to shield his face and laugh.

A knock echoed through the open floor planned apartment from the front door. “Oh,” You said in a sing song voice. “Your boo’s here.” You made your way over to the door.

“Jesus, why am I friends with you?”

“Because I didn’t hesitate to punch you when you were being an asshole, and I still gave you a second chance”

“I’m pretty sure you called me a cunt.”

“Same sentiment.” You told him, opening the door only to be met with a face you didn’t expect. “Oh, hey. . . Chief?”

“Y/n, I need you to come with me” Hopper told you, holding his hat while you glanced back at Steve who only shrugged a bit, confused as to why the chief was here too.

“Did I commit a felony that I didn’t know was a felony?”

“What? No, I just need your help.”

•••

“You know, my brother, and my friends used to say that Ted Bundy woulda’ loved my dumbass, I’m kinda starting to believe them.” You told Hopper, stepping over a few twigs, the sun setting casting an eerie feeling over the woods as you followed him from the car to the run down cabin.

“Why?” He asked, even though his tone clearly said he didn’t care ‘why.’

“Because, creepy cabin, older man who’s much taller than me and stronger, who I also barely know, it’s dark, and none of my red flags are going up.” You told him.

You’d told Steve that he could stay in the apartment if he wanted, and to watch the movies you rented, not caring if he and Nancy watched Grease without you in your apartment’s empty living room.

You heard Hopper give a heavy sigh as he stepped up the creaking wooden steps, where paint was tried and peeling up from water damage. You came up beside him as he opened the screen door and began knocking on the wooden door in a certain pattern that had you tilting your head.

“You can’t tell anyone about what you’re about to see, you can’t even write it down or hell, even draw it, understood?” He turned to you with a finger pointing to the door.

You gave him a look. “There’s one.”

“One what?”

“One red flag,” You clarified. “What the hell did you do? Kill Ronald Reagan? Store his body in there?” It didn’t make any sense to you, considering that he was supposed to be the sane one between the two of you.

The door’s locks come undone and you watched as it opened, but noticed how Hopper didn’t have a hand on the door knob and how there was no one on the other side of the door.

“Are you gonna feed me to the Blair Witch?” You asked, even though you knew that the legend originated in Maryland. Hopper rolled his eyes and gestured for you to go inside. “Oh hell no, the first one to go in is the one who gets killed last, come on man, keep up.” You told him.

He rolled his eyes once again, opening the door wider and walking in, with you hesitantly following, knowing you were being over dramatic. The floorboards creaked a little as you stepped inside.

Grabbing the door you closed it behind you so none of the snow got into the run down cabin, and so the cold wouldn’t plague either of you anymore. Turning back around you froze in place at what you.

Eleven, dressed the same, but her clothes dirtied, as well as her face. Her hair a light brown and having grown out about two inches, coming in at an odd stage in growing out.

Eleven fixed her posture a bit as her own eyes landed on you. Neither one of you knowing how to react for a few moments. Just looking at each other.

Your gaze caught on every splotch of dirt or dried mud on her face and clothing, you even noticed the mostly healed over scab on her leg.

Eleven made note of how you were in pajamas and a hoodie, how you had slipped on the closest pair of shoes when you left your apartment, which happened to be low cut converse. She noticed the lack of warm clothing and how your hair was pushed out of the way.

You were the one to speak up first “Holy shit.” In a second you were taking strides over to her and pulling the twelve year old into your arms.

Looking over to Hopper you shook your head trying to figure out what to say. How was she even alive? You were there when she supposedly died. “Does Mike know? Who knows?” You asked, while Eleven wrapped her own arms around you while you held her shoulders.

“He doesn’t know, no one else but us can know. For her safety, is that understood?” He asked. Nodding eagerly you looked down at Eleven and smiled a bit.

“I’m glad you’re alive.” You barely knew her, but you could relate to her, on not feeling normal, and having to hide who you are. “You’re not gonna keep her here, are you? It’s like a storage unit here.” You observed.

• • •

@disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @jxnehxpper @yllwtaxi @songofcosplay @potatopooper05 @cheesecakeisapie @robinsdolan @yall-wildin-like-siriusly @the_passionate_freak @bisexualpears @ilovebucketbarnes @random-thoughts-003

#Steve Harrington slow burn #steve x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve

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cagestark · 4 years

Note

Tony/ofc pretty please? Iron Man helps out after an animal breakout at the Bronx Zoo, and a young zookeeper there wants to thank him for his services? ~@ironspiderstarker

I had so much fun, even if I know nothing about zookeeping or animals. Hope you can suspend your disbelief and enjoy this PWP!

About this: Tony/unnamed, undescribed OFC. Oral. 2.4 k. Nff. -

In her office is their first face to face meeting.

(Sure, she’d been among the six other employees called in at three in the morning during the worst snow-storm New York City had seen in the last ten years. They’d all met trundled up in their coats and hats and scarves and boots outside the gates, shivering when Iron-Man—Iron-Man! she thought to herself, breathless—appeared like a star in the sky, landing in front of them in a flash of burning thrusters.

But then, when they’d met, it had been face-to-faceplate, and everyone (herself included) had been far more concerned about Lyuba.)

“Cat’s out of the bag, huh?” the suit had said, voice more mechanical than human. “Or cage, should I say. That’s a hell of a malfunction in your security system. Why can’t you tranq her?”

“She’s pregnant,” another employee said. “Twin, male cubs. There are more people in a single city block here than there are Siberian Tigers left in the entire world—we can’t risk causing her or the pregnancy any harm.”

“And we can’t risk our funding by reporting this,” someone muttered under their breath.

“I don’t know if you’ve seen the news, but I usually wrangle humans. Bad guys, specifically. I don’t think I’m qualified to cat-sit.”

He had been persuaded, though. They had huddled around each other watching on the surveillance cameras as he approached the tiger without fear, coaxing her back to the enclosure. They’d all let out cheers, breathless with relief. One after one, they had trickled out until only you remained in the office, watching over footage of Lyuba roaming the zoo. Then rewatching the footage of Iron-man shooing her along like a sheep-dog might his flock.

When the knock comes, she calls out a distracted, Come in, without thinking about how any other employee wouldn’t have bothered knocking. When she looks up from the footage, Tony Stark is standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. A masked madman might have shocked her less—though it certainly wouldn’t have made her so breathless.

The closest she’s ever been to a celebrity is walking past Matt Damon once two Christmas Eves ago. This kind of close contact is far different. Tony Stark is far different. He looks at her with the most clever eyes she’s ever seen. She can’t help but feel like he sees through her, into her. When he smiles, her knees press together underneath the desk. He looks even more handsome in person than on television.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he says, not looking sorry in the slightest. “I left my suit at the curb and running. But I figured this would only take a minute.”

“I—sorry?”

He points to the computer you’re sitting at. “Whatever malfunctioned in your security system and opened the tiger enclosure? I figured I could lend a little expertise. Save me another midnight trip.”

“Oh! Of course. Please—”

Tony crosses the room with sure steps, and she scrambles up and aside to give him her seat. He brings with him the scent of expensive cologne, the kind with a name her lips are too clumsy to form. The smile he gives her is warm, lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes. Then he turns his eyes to the computer, fingers moving expertly across the keyboard.

She can’t help but stand by him and watch while he works.

“Thank you again for helping us with Lyuba,” she says. All the words come out in order—no small miracle with how nervous she is, with the way her hands are shaking. She clasps them together in her lap. “I spent the most time with the large cats. I was actually the first one that they called when she escaped. If anything had happened to her, it would have broken my heart.”

“Hey, what’s the use of a multi-million dollar, practically indestructible suit if I can’t use it to help round up wayward cats in my downtime? And you know, I think I see your problem here. Jesus, this program is outdated. I’m going to make a donation when the sun’s up. A big one. Splurge on something a little more twenty-first century. Off-topic question here—” she blinks when he turns to face her. God, his eyes are huge, dark as the whiskey she keeps in her freezer. “—what would you have done if I weren’t in Manhattan?”

“Well,” she says. “I probably would have gone in after her. I don’t have a multi-million dollar indestructible suit, but I do have knucklebones.”

“I’m sorry—?”

“They’re her favorite treat.”

“Ah,” Tony says. “Well. I’m not exactly comforted by your protective equipment being something that only makes you look like an even tastier treat to a protective tiger.”

“Needless to say, I am very, very grateful.”

He laughs, a charming sound. This time when her knees clench together, it’s a visible motion, one that she catches his eyes flickering down to spot it. When he turns back towards the computer screen, it’s with a smirk. He wets his lips, and she wets her own in unconscious mirroring.

“You’re welcome,” he says lowly.

She swallows, grateful that he can’t see the way her pulse pounds, the temporary insanity inside her that makes the next statement pass her lips: “Maybe I could—thank you properly.”

For a moment, the meaning doesn’t dawn on him. He stares with an almost innocent openness. Then his eyes widen fractionally. “Ah—a generous offer. Not necessary though, I assure you.”

“I—of course. Jesus. I shouldn’t have even—I’m not usually so—”

“It’s fine,” he says, smiling. “Like I said, a very, very generous offer. But I’m not usually in the business of haranguing sexual favors as payment for being a good samaritan.”

“I’m hardly feeling harangued,” she admits. “If you aren’t interested though, I understand.”

“It’s not a lack of interest,” he says. “Trust me. But I have been making notable progress in being less of an asshole these last few years. It’s taken a lot of self-reflection and, full disclosure, plenty of therapy, and—”

“And saving tigers.”

“—that too. I—” His tirade cuts off when she slips from the stool down to kneel beside him in the cheap Ikea rolling chair he’s seated in. His throat bobs as he swallows, staring down at the sight of her. When she places one hand just above his knee, he lets out a long, audible breath into the quiet room.

“If you really aren’t interested,” she says, voice trembling. “Now is the time to say something.”

His head falls back to rest against the top of the chair while he looks upwards toward the fluorescent lights. Then his burning gaze is back on her, eyes serious and searching as they rake over her face. “You really want to do this?”

If he were to put his hand between her legs, he’d have overwhelming physical evidence, but this is the last thing she feels brave enough to say. She’s already on her knees in front of Tony Stark himself. That fills her quota of bravery for the day. Instead, she just nods fervently. Whatever his last reservations were fall to the wayside. His hands fall to his belt buckle and her legs clench together at the sound. Worse than one of Pavlov’s dogs, she thinks.

“This is what you wanted, right?” he asks, quiet while he pulls out his cock. He’s only half hard, but it’s impressive. All those nights she’d spent gossiping with girlfriends about how Tony Stark must be well hung, and now here is proof. Cut, thicker than she’s used to, and long, jerking under her gaze. When she glances back up at his eyes, she can see that he’s asked a question, but she’s already forgotten what it is.

Instead, she leans forward, letting one hand press flat against the well-trimmed pubic hair to steady the base while her tongue laps at the head. He tastes clean, maybe a little soapy, like he’d rushed to shower before stepping into the Iron-man suit. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees his hands tighten on the arms of the chair and considers that bolder encouragement than any spoken word.

Pressing his cock upwards towards the band t-shirt he wears, she ducks down to lap at his balls, watching his face to assess his reactions. Judging by the way his eyes shut, full-mouth parting, this is something he likes. So she throws herself into it whole-heartedly, sucking one into her mouth and then giving attention to the other until Tony’s cock is full, silken, burning skin when she tilts her head to nuzzle against it. When she pulls back, she is pleased to see the way his chest heaves, the way precum pearls at the tip of his cock.

When she leans in again to lap it away, Tony groans.

“Jesus, your mouth,” he murmurs.

She hums, heart buzzing with fresh confidence. As often as his eyes fall shut, he fights them open again and sets them on her, on her mouth where she presses open-mouthed kisses along his shaft, one palm cradling his balls in her warm palm. After a while, she is torturing herself as much as she tortures him, so she pulls back and opens her mouth (jaws already straining at the sheer width of him) and takes as much of his cock into her mouth as she can.

The long, low fuck he mutters travels down between her legs, causing her to give a groan of her own. While she’d love to work a hand down to where she’s wet and aching, she needs both of them: one to work the length of his cock that she can’t swallow, and one to roll his balls.

“Fuck me,” he says. “Did I say I didn’t want any more midnight trips to the zoo because—holy shit, that’s, that’s, God, please don’t stop—”

She takes him deeper in response, letting the blunt head of his cock nudge the back of her throat. He jerks, hands tightening into fists on the arms of the chair. She takes a steadying breath and then works him deeper into her mouth, swallowing around the urge to gag, swallowing again and again when sounds begin to drip from Tony’s mouth in an endless stream, half-formed pleas and praises and filthy words.

It’s easy to lose herself between his legs, to become nothing but an aching knot of need, a useful hot mouth for his hips to fuck into (though he is very gentlemanly about it, little aborted thrusts, one shaking hand coming up to pet at her hair). She reaches up to encourage him to thread his fingers through her hair and take hold of her, to guide her, to use her. She keeps one hand fisted at the base of him to keep from injuring herself and otherwise lets him use her.

She can’t help but imagine it happening again and again in a thousand different scenarios. Her beneath his desk while he works, keeping his cock warm. Her beneath the table during a rough meeting, his hands knotted in her hair. On her knees between his legs in his fancy penthouse, sucking him off for her own enjoyment.

Suddenly he coaxes her off, one hand cupping her chin. “Are you alright?” he asks, breathlessly. “You were whining.”

“‘M good,” she says, voice husky from the battering her throat has taken. “So good. Please don’t stop.”

Tony shudders all over. “Fuck, I like the way you sound like that. Is that because of me, sweet thing? When your throat is sore in the morning, are you going to remember this and touch yourself?”

“Uh-huh,” she breathes in the affirmative. Her eyes can’t focus on his face for any longer than a moment, not when his cock is there, glistening with her saliva, red and throbbing. Not when her mouth feels empty and open and desperate to be filled. She opens her mouth again, tongue lax, and he moans as he feeds his cock back between her lips.

“I’m getting close,” he breathes, one thumb tracing the line of where her lips are wrapped around his cock. “Where do you want it? Absolutely no obligation to swallow, you’re in charge—”

All the ideas are appealing: him pulling out to come on her face, pearlescent seed that she can lap from her lips. Pulling off so that she can finish him with her hand, so that she can watch every last twitch of his cock as she drags him over the edge. But this is the only chance she’ll ever have to be on her knees for this incredible, god-like man. There’s no chance she’ll let him cum anywhere but her mouth—no chance that she won’t swallow every last drop of him down.

Kneeling up for better vantage, she plants both hands on hips and coaxes him forward, forward to thrust into her. The message must be clear as the realization crosses his face, eyes squeezing shut in an expression of the most sublime ecstasy. He murmurs one last warning before his pelvis tightens, abs showing in sharp definition where his shirt has ridden up. Then his cock jerks in her mouth, the scent of cum sharp on the back of her tastebuds. She groans, working her tongue as she swallows once, twice, thrice.

As soon as he has finished, he draws her up onto shaking legs and pulls her onto his lap, his erection pressed between them as he cups her jaw tenderly and kisses the breath out of her. He must be able to taste himself in her mouth with the way his tongue plunders her, drags sensually against her own, but he only groans.

When he draws back, his cheeks are red, eyes hazy. “I don’t even know your name,” he says, laughing a little.

“I don’t remember it right now myself,” she says.

“How about your address?” Tony asks. “I’d like to continue this, if you’ll have me. Somewhere more private. Unless you’re comfortable coming back to mine.”

She blinks in surprise, sex throbbing when she wonders how he means to continue this. This whole night has been like a fever dream, the strangest, wettest fever dream of her life. And she realizes that she isn’t ready to wake up. So she drags her knuckles gently across his iconic facial hair and says, throat raw: “I’d like that.”

#tony stark/ofc #tony stark/original female character #tony x reader #tony x original female character #nff #tony stark x reader #cagewrites

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kelyon · 3 years

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Nephila Chapter 5: Everglades

The fic where the Stiltskin men are all giant spiders (and some people are into that.)

In which Emma Swan is Florida Woman

Trigger warning: Killian Jones

Read on AO3

“Parks department is gonna shoot us with their tranquilizer guns if they catch us out here, Swan.”

Emma rolled her eyes at Killian and kept steering her fishing boat through the swamp. This section of the glades was tricky to navigate. She couldn’t let his whining distract her.

They were in a flat-bottomed aluminum jon boat, ten feet long. It didn’t have a built-in engine. Normally Emma used a paddle to get her where she needed to go on the water. Since her plans today were taking her further out than normal, she had “borrowed” a portable Evinrude motor from her friend Penny. It would be fine though; Penny’s boat just got impounded, so she wasn’t gonna miss the motor.

“I never said you had to come, Jones.” She shielded her eyes from the bright Florida sun. Her glasses were dirty and scratched. The reflection on the water doubled the light and made it impossible to see. She shoulda brought a visor.

“No, you just said you were going to do something dangerous and stupid.” Killian lounged against the side of the boat and used both hands to swat at bugs. “You know I can’t resist a challenge.”

“Of course not. That’s why you keep hanging around me, even though I don’t wanna bang you.”

“You mean you don’t want to bang me yet!” He gave her the grin that had worked on every other girl in the tri-county area. “I remain hopeful.”

“You remain delusional.”

Every once in a while, Emma thought about sleeping with Killian just so he would get over it and stop bothering her. He was decent company when he wasn’t horny. He was the only person in their group who would go on crazy adventures with her, and he never minded letting her crash at his place. They’d gotten each other in and out of trouble at least a hundred times since she’d moved to Florida during her freshman year of high school.

That was part of the problem with Killian. She’d known him too long. When they’d met, he’d been zitty and awkward, tagging along after his older brother Liam. Killian hadn’t gotten hot until senior year when he started growing a beard. All that shaggy dark hair brought out his bright blue eyes and covered up his acne. He wasn’t bad looking. And he was almost smart. Growing up on a houseboat made him act like he knew everything about every kind of boat, so he was never afraid to act like a drunk pirate. A lot of girls were into that.

For herself, Emma had heard his voice crack too many times to ever think about him as a sexual option. And yet, ever since graduation, she had found herself at the top of his “to-do list.” It was putting a real strain on their friendship.

“Oh, come on, luv! You know I’ll do anything for you. But if I’m gonna get a hand bit off by a crocodile, I’d feel better about it if I knew there was gonna be some kind of reward for my trouble.”

“Sex isn’t a reward, dumbass.” Hand on the tiller of the motor, Emma steered them around a patch of sawgrass and into a free-flowing slough where the water could carry them. “And besides, there aren’t any crocodiles in Florida. It’s all gators. I only lived here five years and even I know that!”

“Ha!” Killian pointed a triumphant finger at her. “Well, I’ve lived on these waters all my life! And I know that the American Crocodile is the only crocodile that co-exists with alligators. It’s an endangered species and it only lives here in the Everglades!”

She narrowed her eyes. “You just heard that on the Internet.”

Killian shrugged. “Doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

Emma shook her head. Whether or not Killian should believe something he read on the Internet was an argument they had at least once a week. Going over it again wasn’t worth it.

“Point is,” she said. “We’re going to the part of the glades where there aren’t any gators or crocodiles.”

Killian made a face. “There’s no such place.”

“There sure is!”

He still didn’t believe her. “How do you know gators aren’t there?”

“Cuz there’s too much other stuff. There’s a billion more birds and bugs and lizards in this part of the swamp than there is anywhere else.”

“In the whole Everglades?”

“Yeah. I read an article about it. On the Internet.”

If Killian wanted to give her crap about her news source, he was going to have one hell of an argument. But he had just enough brains not to, so Emma got to explain.

“The article had all these science people talking about the ‘explosion of biodiversity’ in this one tiny section of the Glades. It’s probably been going on for a while, but they just noticed it a couple months ago. All the animals and things that you find one of in any other part of the Glades, you’ll find ten of ‘em in this part we’re going to now.”

“With all the animals there, why aren’t there any gators snapping them up?”

“That’s what the scientists wanted to know. They said it makes sense that there’s more little things crawling around when there aren’t any big things to eat ‘em. But it doesn’t make sense that all the gators, the ‘apex predators,’ just disappeared. They think something is killing the gators but letting everything else go. They’re real worried about it too. So I figure there might be some kinda reward for finding out what’s going on.”

“A reward?” Killian sat up so fast the boat rocked. “You didn’t say anything about a reward!”

“I just did,” Emma smirked. “But we gotta keep it secret. I don’t want anybody trying to edge in on our find.”

“Wait, what are you trying to find?”

“Didn’t you hear a word I said? I’m going to find whatever’s eating the gators!”

Killian’s jaw dropped. “Are you crazy? You think there’s something big enough to eat gators and the first thing you wanna do is go after it?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Emma turned back to the tiller. She pulled her phone out of her back pocket and unlocked the screen. The article she’d read had a dinky little drawing of a map where all the strange activity was going on. Emma had compared it to the real map on Google and taken a screenshot of where she wanted to go. They should be close.

Killian was still freaking out. At least he was smart enough not to move so much that it would tip the boat over. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Swan?”

“I told you I was gonna do something stupid and dangerous.”

“You know it’s probably just snakes, right? Them pythons people get as pets, then they get too big and people let ‘em loose in the swamp and they eat everything. My buddy Kaa had to do that once.”

“If it was just a bunch of snakes, the science people wouldn’t be so weirded out about it. It’s something they can’t explain.”

“For all you know it could be a giant fucking monster! Did you bring a gun or something? You know McLeach is good to hook us up.”

Emma shook her head. “This is just a fact-finding mission. I don’t need a gun, I’ve got this.” She held up a digital camera in a plastic zipper bag. “I told Hat Man the whole story and he let me use this to take pictures.”

Killian ran his hand over his face. “Of course he did. Hat Man is the only other person in all of Florida who’s as crazy as you!”

Emma threw up her hands. “There are lots of people who do dumber stuff than me or Hat Man ever tried!”

“Yeah, but none of them ever did something that’s gonna get me killed! I swear, Swan--”

“Would the two of you please shut up?” Some guy’s voice rang out over the water. “You’re bothering the monster!”

Emma cut the motor and stood up. The jon boat wobbled but steadied itself after a second. Pushing up her glasses, she scanned around the water. She couldn’t spot any other boats around all the sawgrass patches.

“Who the hell are you?” she shouted. “And how the fuck do you know about the monster?”

The voice chuckled. “Lady, I know more about monsters than you know about your own parents.”

Emma clenched her jaw and muttered. “You don’t know shit about my parents, jackass.”

Sitting on the bench seat closest to the front of the boat, Killian put his head in his hands. “Let’s get out of here, Swan. Whoever this asshole is, the gator-eater can go eat him.”

“The gator-eater can eat this guy, just so long as I get a picture.” She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted. “Where are you? Can you see anything?”

“I’ve got so many eyes, I can see everything.” The voice wasn’t shouting anymore. It sounded close. Emma hadn’t heard a motor running. Was this guy in a canoe? This far out away from the shore?

Her head spun as she looked around, but she didn’t see anything besides sawgrass and dead tree limbs and a million birds and bugs. There was an extra glare on the water around here, some kinda gold light coming off the patches of land.

“Where are you?” she asked again.

“Over here.”

A head popped out of the nearest patch of sawgrass. This patch had the most of the weird light, so much gold it barely looked green at all. Squinting, she tried to see who she was looking at.

At first, Emma thought it was just a normal guy with a tan. Then she thought the guy had some killer tattoos, maybe jail tats. There were dark brown circles all over his face. Then, the circles blinked at her. Then the guy smiled--and his mouth was green. No, that was not a human mouth. He had fangs. He had pincers.

“Oh, Jesus,” Emma whispered.

She couldn’t move. This was the thing she was looking for, but she couldn’t move. The camera was right by her feet. Her phone was in her back pocket. The boat tiller was less than a foot away from her hand. But she couldn’t move.

From up on his mound of sawgrass, the guy--the thing, the monster--was still smiling. He waved at her.

Somehow, she could wave back.

Sitting down, Killian hadn’t seen what Emma was looking at. “Do you see him?” he asked as he stood up. “I wanna get a good look at our competit--holy shit!”

Everything happened at once. Emma could only think of things in freeze-frame. She saw one second of Killian panicking. One second of him falling over backwards into the water. One second of him toppling the whole boat on his way down. One second of Hat Man’s camera in its ziploc bag flying into the air.

One second of the water coming closer as she fell.

The water wasn’t deep--just deep enough that she didn’t hit her head on the ground. Her glasses almost flew up off her face, but she grabbed them just in time. Spitting and sputtering, Emma managed to get to her feet in the soft mud. This time of year was the dry season, so when she stood up, the water only came up to her chest. But that didn’t mean much for the phone in her pants pocket. By the time she thought to raise it up over her head, it was already soaked.

“Shit,” she swore. “You owe me a new phone, monster-guy!”

At least Hat Man’s camera was in a waterproof bag. But from where she was, six inches above the water’s surface, there was no way she was going to find it.

“Shit!” Emma swore again. “And if I don’t get that fucking camera back, you are gonna be in huge trouble!”

Laughter rang out over the swamp. It wasn’t Killian. It had to be the guy. That monster jackass was laughing at her!

“This isn’t fucking funny!” she shouted.

The thing kept laughing. “Yes it is. I mean, come on, lady. You gotta admit this is classic comedy.”

She could not believe this. She’d gone out on the water to find a monster, found out it was a smart-ass jerk, and then lost any way to prove it to anybody! That wasn’t funny, it was…

Okay, it was pretty funny. But she still had every right to be mad about it!

“Killian, can you believe this sh--” Emma stopped when she realized she had no idea where Killian was. She couldn’t see him or the boat. He hadn’t said anything since he had seen the monster. There were a million sounds coming from a million animals, but none of them sounded like a grown man swimming.

Or drowning.

“Shit!” The third time Emma said that word, it was with bone-deep dread. Her mouth went dry and for a second she panicked. God, Killian could not be dead. She would get in so much trouble!

“Hey, asshole!” she shouted as she began to wade towards the gold-covered island. “You with the eyes and the sense of humor!”

“Call me Neal!” the monster shouted back. He sounded like he was trying to be friendly.

Emma’s mouth dropped open, but then she closed it before a bug could fly in. Where did a monster get off having a name like Neal? She shook her head. It didn’t matter. What mattered was Killian.

“Okay, Neal. Sure. Listen, Neal, I need your help. I know I talked a lot of shit to you, but this is serious. Can you see my friend?”

“You mean the wannabe bad boy? Yeah, he’s getting eaten by crocodiles.”

“WHAT?” Emma shrieked.

“Nope. That was a joke. Bad taste, I guess. Actually, he looks fine. He was able to get the boat flipped over and he is motoring off to the horizon.”

“WHAT?” Now Emma was in a full-on bellow. Over the sound of blood pounding in her ears, she could hear the faint whine of an Evinrude outboard motor. “That son of a bitch stole my boat!”

Now that she knew Killian wasn’t dead, she was fully prepared to kill him. She staggered to the island that was covered in a haze of gold--it looked like a bunch of fancy spider webs, but that was the least of her concerns.

“Are you around here?” she yelled. “Neal?”

The same head and arms emerged from the grassy water. Up close, the face looked even weirder. There was a circle of brown eyes, all different sizes and all dark as buttons. She couldn’t tell if there was a nose or not. And the mouth was way too wide and way too fangy, especially when it looked like it was smiling. There were… things on either side of his smile, bright, shiny green things, a part of his mouth, she guessed.

Weirdest of all, over the monster’s human-looking chest and arms, he was wearing a Hawaiian shirt. It was green, with yellow flowers.

“My father always told me to help a human in need. What can I do for you?”

Right now, Emma was too angry to be confused. “Can you swim?”

Neal raised himself up a little higher out of the sawgrass and Emma saw what the rest of him looked like.

It was one of those half-man, half-horse things she’d seen in movies. Centaurs, that’s what they were called. Only it wasn’t a horse that Neal was half of. Too many legs for that. He was light brown and gray, so he blended in with all the mud and sticks. His legs looked kinda stubby, and they all came out of one place in front of… Emma didn’t have any other word for it but spider-butt.

Sweet Jesus’ birthday. The gator-eater was a goddamned spider-man!

Neal didn’t talk for a second. Emma figured he was letting her get used to him. But that was gonna take a while and Killian the rat bastard was getting further away by the second. Emma put her hands on her hips and looked this thing in its two biggest eyes.

“Did you hear what I said? Can you swim?”

“I’ve got so many legs, I can swim anywhere. You want me to catch up with your boat and teach that guy a lesson?”

“Hell no. I want you to take me to my boat so I can give that son of a bitch a black eye myself.”

Neal snorted--or maybe it was a snort. He sounded like he thought it was funny. “I can do that.” He smiled and lowered his spider-legs so his whole body was near the ground. “You wanna climb aboard?”

Emma wasn’t afraid to ride on the back of a spider-thing through the Everglades. She’d been riding jet-skis since she was ten. This couldn’t be that different. It’d probably be easier, since Neal would be able to do all the steering himself.

He was already mostly in the water, so she just kind of fell on top of him, with her legs on either side of his… Was it a waist? The lower part of his human half.

Short, prickly hairs grew all over the spider half. They came out when she moved her legs against them. Emma was glad she had decided to wear full pants today instead of shorts.

“Okay.” She grabbed the Hawaiian shirt with both hands and tugged. “Giddy-up.”

Neal tensed up and for a minute he didn’t say anything. Then he turned his head to talk to her. “What’s your name?”

“Emma,” she said. Oh crap, was he mad?

“Okay, Emma, listen up. I’m going to help you get your boat, because I am a helpful kind of individual. But if you ever treat me like an animal again, you will be swimming home. Understand?”

“Oh.” Emma let go of his shirt. “Crap, I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “No big deal. I’m sure you’re not used to people like me. Now, let’s go retrieve some stolen property!”

Neal had four legs on either side, but he only used the front three to swim. His back legs dragged through the water to balance him out like a dead man’s float. The other legs pushed past the water, all working together. It almost looked like a bird flapping its wings against the wind. Was that what a butterfly stroke looked like? Or was this just a spider stroke?

All that mattered was that Neal was fast. And he knew this area better than Killian did. They caught up to him when he was trying to push his way through an area too shallow for the jon boat.

“Hey!” Emma shouted. “Are you fucking running my boat aground?”

She was too far away to see the expression on Killian’s face. All Emma saw was him looking at the tiller, looking up at her shouting at him from the back of a swimming spider, then looking at the motor again, frantically pulling at the line to get it started.

“Stop doing that, you’re gonna flood it!” Emma shouted again. Killian stopped, and she leaned forward to talk to Neal. “You can take it easy if you want. He’s not going anywhere.”

Chuckling, Neal reduced his speed. The strokes through the water were slower now, but they felt more powerful.

Now that she knew she’d be getting her boat back, Emma breathed a sigh of relief. She leaned back on her hands against the spider-butt and rested in the sun.

Neal must have noticed. “You enjoying the ride?”

Emma nodded, but then realized that he couldn’t see her. “I figured I been on these glades every way you could be except over ‘em in a helicopter. Never thought I’d get to see ‘em on the back of a spider.”

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah.”

They were getting closer to Killian. His freaking out kept getting louder, probably because he could see Neal in better detail. Or maybe because he knew Emma was going to beat seven kinds of crap out of him for stealing her boat and running away without her.

“He is such a dingus,” she muttered.

Neal chuckled again. “Listen,” he said. “If you ever wanna… find me again, I’ll try not to scare you next time.”

“Now that I know you, I don’t think you could scare me,” Emma said proudly. “But I might not be able to get out here again for a while. I’ll have to do a little hustle to get another phone. Plus, I gotta tell Hat Man I lost his camera. He might want me to pay for that too, so my weekends are probably gonna be booked.”

“Oh.” Was she crazy or did he sound disappointed?

They were within spitting distance of Killian now. It was a weird thing, but Emma almost didn’t want to stop swimming with Neal.

“Here’s your boyfriend,” he said as he swam up to the boat.

Killian’s terror had gotten to the stage where he was huddled in the furthest corner of the boat, white faced and wide eyed. Over and over he whispered, “What the fuck?”

Crawling off Neal’s back, Emma scrambled into her boat. Yep, Killian the pirate had run a ten-foot fishing boat into the only section of the Everglades that jutted up over the water. It was a miracle there wasn’t any damage to the hull that would make them take on water.

Neal was already swimming away, but Emma called out. “Don’t leave yet!”

He spun around. Was she crazy or had his eyes lit up?

“Can you do me another favor? Can you pull us away from this sandbar?”

Nodding, Neal grabbed the boat with his human hands. His hands and arms were the same weird color as his spider parts, kind of a muddy brown. The Hawaiian shirt covered his shoulders, but his chest was bare. Emma could see the muscles in his forearms. He looked… strong.

He swam out to a slough with the boat in tow. Killian looked like he was going to throw up.

“Thanks,” Emma said when Neal let go. She wanted to say more, but she didn’t know what.

“No problem,” he answered.

Treading water, all of Neal’s legs pumped like he was riding eight different unicycles. He bobbed up and down like a jellyfish. Emma got the feeling that he wanted to say more too.

“Jesus Christ,” Killian moaned. “Swan, can we please go home?”

“Now you be nice to Emma, okay dingus?” Neal swam around to that side of the boat. With his human hand, he reached up and ruffled Killian’s hair. “I bet if she wasn’t such a nice person, she’d push you out of the boat and leave you here with me.”

“Jesus Christ!” Killian squealed. He crawled backwards away from Neal like a panicked rat.

Emma tried not to laugh at her friend. She needed to get him home before he started crying. She started the engine and began to motor away.

“Thanks again, Neal,” she waved. “I’ll see you around!”

He waved back. “I hope so.”

****

Even when they got back to shore, Killian was still spooked. Emma had to talk him through every step of docking, even though they’d both done it a million times. At least they were able to sneak the Evinrude back into Penny's garage without getting caught. That was about the only thing that had gone right all day.

When they got back to the houseboat he lived in with his brother Liam, she plopped him down at his kitchen table. She put a cold beer in his hands and started to fry up some hot dogs for lunch.

He just stared at the bottle. “What was that, Swan?” he asked. “What the fuck was that thing?”

Standing in front of the two-burner stove, Emma shrugged. “He says his name is Neal.”

“‘He’?” Killian repeated. His head fell into his hands. “‘He says.’ He talks? Swan, this is insane!”

“Sure is.” Secretly, Emma was glad Killian was freaking out. It meant she didn’t have to. She could be the reasonable one in the face of all this fucked up shit.

They ate lunch in silence. Emma hated the taste of beer, but there was a hard lemonade in the fridge and she helped herself. Once they were done eating, Emma threw away the bottles and the paper plates. Killian and Liam never asked her to clean up for them, but she knew that if she didn’t, the garbage would stay on the table for the better part of a month.

“I gotta go see Hat Man,” she announced. “Better tell him now what happened to his camera.”

“I’m coming with you,” Killian said with more life than he had put into anything for the past hour. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Emma nodded, and they started walking.

****

Geoffrey “Hat Man” Jefferson was the closest thing to an adult that either Emma or Killian trusted. He told them once that his family used to be rich, that a hundred years ago finding feathers for hats in the Everglades was a big business. His great-grandparents bought a lot of land and built a big fancy house on the water. Hat Man still owned the land, and he still wore fancy hats. But the big house had gotten flooded so many times no one could live there anymore. Now he lived in a trailer and spent most of his time getting high on magic mushrooms.

He was a pretty chill guy. Emma didn’t think he would get mad about the camera, but that just made her feel worse about losing it. Hat Man had done her a favor and she had fucked it up.

Story of her life.

When they got to the trailer, Emma and Killian found Hat Man and the usual group in the front yard by the road. It looked like they had taken the dining room table from the big house and set it up outside. All their friends were sitting in the dining room chairs, drinking from China teacups and saucers. Margot and Tilly were holding hands and singing to themselves. McLeach was drinking tea with his pinky up and his rifle slung over the back of his chair.

The table was set with all kinds of pretty platters and bowls--though the menu seemed to be made up of whatever could be snuck out of a gas station convenience store. A red-headed kid named Oliver held out a crystal serving dish of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos to Dodger, who was using a pair of silver tongs to place them, one by one, on his plate. The lace tablecloth fluttered in the breeze and got tangled in the tall grass.

If these were Emma and Killian’s friends, maybe they weren’t actually good judges of what was or was not crazy.

Hat Man noticed them, and raised his teacup in greeting. “Salutations!” he called. “Far-flung comrades, come back to join us in the fold!”

Everyone at the table looked at them. Without anyone saying anything, they all moved around and adjusted their chairs so Emma and Killian could both have seats. Killian found refuge between McLeach and a girl named Vixie--though Vixie seemed a lot more interested in Todd. Todd was a new guy to the group, and had never lived away from his momma before getting dumped here.

Emma sat down next to Hat Man, who handed her a three-level cookie tray loaded with Ding Dongs.

“How mellifluous to see you on this fair day, Mademoiselle Swan! To what honor do I owe the occasion?”

Today Hat Man was wearing black tuxedo pants and a silk purple vest with no shirt underneath. The brim of his battered top hat shadowed his eyes, so Emma couldn’t see exactly how blasted out he was. It appeared to be a lot.

“Actually…” Nervously, Emma fiddled with her glasses until Hat Man, very gently, pulled them off her face and placed them into a glass pitcher of blue slurpee.

“You see better when you don’t have stuff in front of your eyes,” he explained.

“That’s true,” Tilly nodded from across the table. Unlike everyone else at the table, Tilly had drugs that she should be taking, but wasn’t.

Emma actually saw much worse without her glasses, but that wasn’t anything worth caring about now. Even without them on, she still kept touching her face.

“Hat Man, do you remember the digital camera you let me borrow?”

“I recall it with the utmost vividity!” he said. His mouth was full of a burrito that appeared to still be frozen.

“Well, I’m super sorry but, it’s gone.”

He patted at his mouth with a cloth napkin. “Desiccation and decay is the way of all flesh, Emmy-wemmy. And all the goods we horde will crumble into dust or be swallowed by the somnambulatory sea.” He took off his hat and solemnly placed it over his heart. “Adieu, O photographic device of mine! May your memory be a blessing unto the next generation.”

The only other person paying attention was Tilly. She had tears in her eyes as she nodded along with what Hat Man was saying.

“So you’re not mad?” Emma said.

“Very mad, but not at all angry.” Jefferson took a burnt Pizza Roll off a silver platter, threw it into the air and caught it in his mouth. “What happened to it, anyway?”

“I…” she didn’t know how to start. “I wanna say you’re not gonna believe this, but I think you’re the only person who will.”

In hushed tones, she told him the whole story. The news article, the missing alligators, the island of gold thread--Neal. Hat Man listened politely, nodded and asked questions, but in the end he shook his head and said that the whole thing was poppycock.

“What?” Emma said. “But I saw the whole thing! And Killian was there, you can ask him!”

“Don’t be farcical,” Hat Man took a sip of… well, it was in a teacup, but it probably wasn’t tea. “How on earth could such a creature get here from Australia?”

Emma frowned. “I didn’t say anything about Australia.”

“Indubitably,” he said. Emma had no idea what he meant by that. “But Australia is the only place where I’ve ever witnessed such a creature before.”

#nephila #swanfire #Belle and Rumple will be back soon #ouat

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goodwriterwithbadhabits · 4 years

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Flight of the Little Bird: Three Months Later.

Previous | Master List

Its the end! I know I said I’d have this up a few hours ago, but at least I finished it, right? (I’m still so sorry about the Late At Night series, I swear I’m still working on it.)

“Dad, stop being mean to the bees.” Your laugh rings out across the large garden as you watch your father try to catch the bees buzzing around his tomatoes. “They’re friends.”

“You wouldn’t say that if they were hornets.” He counters, adjusting the straw hat he was wearing. You both grin at his words, squinting due to the southern California sun. You had missed this place, with its sprawling land, the old adobe mansion your grandfather had bought so many decades ago, and even the bees that always returned to your father’s precious garden every summer.

“Hornets are bastards, its different.” You point out, returning your attention to the pumpkins you were weeding. “How long do you think it’ll be until these babies are ready for the market?” You wonder, gently caressing the squash in front of you.

“Not until early October at the earliest, we could sell them for Jack-o-lanterns” He informs you, finally leaving the bees alone to check his other garden inhabitants. “These cucumbers might be ready next week though.”

“The bell peppers too,” You stand up, pointing to the section of garden he had set aside for his varied peppers. “We should check the mushrooms as well, I could make stuffed bell peppers and-”

“Honey!” Your mother’s voice has both of you looking back towards the house, and you can tell from the way she’s fiddling with her wedding ring that something is wrong.

“What’s wrong, mom?” You call, and she immediately waves your concerns away.

“Its nothing sweetie, I just need to talk to your father.” You don’t believe her, but still shrug it off anyway. You share a look with your old man, who’s clearly as confused as you are, “Don’t worry, we’re almost done weeding, I’ll finish up the pumpkins and go check the shrooms.”

“Alright, thank you.” He tips his hat dramatically to you before following his wife inside the house. Weeding takes only a few minutes, so you find yourself meandering towards the front of the house to find the mushrooms before either of your parents have made it back outside.

You wish they had come out to stop you.

The moment you round the side of the house, you’re met with two large black vans, a sight so familiar to you that for a moment you’re excited, wondering where you’re about to be whisked off next. Then, you remember.

It had already been three months since you had left, and the boys hadn’t contacted you once, not even Mark, which hurt most of all. You had no doubt they probably hated you, so what were these vans doing here? Were you about to be kidnapped?

“Please, just hear us out.” A familiar voice begged.

“Not a chance. If you had wanted to talk to her you should have called first, don’t think she’ll want to see you just because you showed up at her house.” Your mother argued, voice stern, a rare occurrence. Slowly the crowd of boys were backed out of the house, though none of them had noticed you yet.

“Mom-”

“Mark Tuan, don’t you dare “mom” me right now. You think you can just ghost my daughter for three months and I’ll welcome you back with open arms? It’s your fault she got her heart broken in the first place. If you think I’ll just forgive you in an instant-”

“Mom.” This time, it was you who called to her, making her stop and all of them looked over to you. Seeing you must have been a shock, the last time you had all been together you wore only designer clothes, stylish pants and dresses, things that screamed money. Now, you stood before them in dirty overalls and a work out tank top you had stolen from Jackson years ago. Your hat blocked the sun from your eyes, but you knew you looked tanner than before, having spent almost every day in the sunshine.

“Oh honey, you were supposed to stay in the garden.” Your mom sighs, clearly distressed.

“Mom, go inside.”

“But-”

“Mom.” You say more firmly, finally tearing your gaze away from the boys to look at her. “I’m a big girl, I can handle my own problems. Go inside please.” She doesn’t say anything, just nods and turns around to head back inside. The moment the door closes, the boys surge forward, but your step backwards has them stopping. “Why are you here? My mom was right, you don’t make a single effort to contact me, and you just show up?”

“You really think you get to be upset right now?” Jinyoung asks.

“Yes I do.” You retort immediately. “I apologized several times. I explained I was leaving the company but you were all still free to contact me, and none of you did. So yeah, I think I’m allowed to be upset.”

“I’m sorry.” Mark pipes up, stepping forward to stand at the front of the group. “We were shitty friends, and I’m so sorry for that, but that isn’t why we’re here.”

“Then why are you here?”

“We want you to come back, to come home.” Youngjae finally admits, voice small. There was no humor in your laugh as it bubbled up.

“I am home.” You manage to say, throwing out your arms to gesture to the property. “Do you even understand why I left?”

“Y/n.” JB tries to start but you stop him.

“I left because your beloved Aghase turned on me and Jackson the moment they found out about us. They’ve always hated me. Every time I’ve been seen by them they spew nothing but hate and that takes a toll. I can’t do that anymore.”

“They don’t hate you.” Mark almost yells. “And who cares if they do? We’ve spent three months trying to accept what you did but you didn’t think about how we would feel.” Mark was angry, a sight you had seen a few times, but had never been towards you. “You expected us to just forget about you, to move on. I have been your best friend for over two decades!” His heart broken shout made tears immediately spring into your eyes. “I would have understood backing away from the group, or even lying to the public about your relationship, but running away? That’s not like you.”

“You didn’t try to stop me.”

“Because I thought I would be okay!” He was crying now, and you felt about to but you tried your best not to let it break you completely. “I thought we would all be okay and I would just be upset for a while until I could see you again, but it wasn’t just me. Everyone has been upset, everyone has been hurt and it was your selfishness that did it!”

“I did it for you, to protect you from those assholes who called themselves your fans!”

“That’s enough! Both of you!” Jackson interjects, stepping in between you. “You are both right, and both wrong.”

“Have you not been on social media at all since you got here?” Jinyoung asks casually, earning a shake of the head from you.

“I didn’t want to see what the company said, or you guys.” You confess, letting out a deep sigh, trying not to burst into tears.

“The boss wasn’t having it. He threatened to sue anyone who was defaming you, or spreading malicious comments.” Jinyoung explains, looking for something on his phone. “They published a post about you leaving, about how it was the fault of so many hateful comments, and that we would be taking an extended hiatus due to, how did he phrase it?” he pauses, trying to remember the words.

“Stress and heartbreak from losing a dear friend.” Jackson says, refusing to look at you. “None of us wanted to keep going without you.”

“I told you, we couldn’t just forget about you.” JB pipes in, taking the phone from Jinyoung to show you.

Comment from: @/wang-gaepark-gae:

What the hell is wrong with people? Jackson and Y/n should be allowed to date without everyone throwing a fit #justicefory/n

Comment from: @/y/n_protection_squad:

Her concepts were so cool! Who cares that they were dating, y’all just took the coolest production designer away from them! This is why we can’t have nice things. #justicefory/n

Comment from: @/wouldletbam_bam:

Does this mean we’re getting the person who did girlsgirlsgirls back? Cause I’ll find Y/n myself if that’s the case.

Comment from: @/notjae6:

Even if you didn’t like their relationship, you didn’t have to ruin everything for everyone. You probably ruined her life #justicefory/n

Comment from: @/aghasefory/n:

Is this why Youngjae looked so sad in his last Vlive? Wait what about Mark? They were besties right? #justicefory/n

“Are they all-?”

“Most of them. Our fans really like you, and they love your work more.” Jinyoung explains. “They’ve trended the Justice for Y/n hashtag for almost three months, and they’ve been releasing their fav clips of you.”

“Wait, clips of me?”

“Yup, people saw you a lot more than you think. You are the person we were closest to besides our managers.” Mark chuckles, wiping his eyes.

“The boss already agreed to let you come back. He says he’ll make sure any malicious comments are met with legal action.” JB interjects, giving Jinyoung his phone back.

“Why does it matter so much?” You almost huff, refusing to look at the boys, knowing it will make you start crying.

“Because we could have lost you. Forever, permanently.” Jackson finally spoke up. “Mark told us about high school, and about the bridge.” Your heart rate increases drastically as you think back to that day, the day you almost died.

“We’ve been so worried this whole time.” Mark begins. “So worried I would never get to see you again.”

“So why didn’t you call?”

“You said you wanted to leave, and we did our best to respect that.” JB explains, stepping forward, now not only as your friend, but as Got7’s leader. “So we are here to apologize, and to ask you, beg if we have to, to come home with us.” All seven of them drop into a 90 degree bow, each one apologizing at once. You glance towards the house, where your parents are pressed to the screen of the front window, listening to the whole conversation. Both of them nod vigorously, gesturing towards the boys. A small chuckle bubbles up from your chest as the tears start spilling onto your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, you guys.” You squeak out, making them slowly come upright, “I thought I was going to be okay, I thought you would just forget about me, and I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left.” Their faces erupt into grins, with Mark dashing forward to scoop you into a tight hug. The other boys join in a second later, squishing you at the center of the circle. “I really missed you guys.” You croak from where your face is squished into Jackson’s shoulder.

“We know.” Bambam grins, patting your head.

“And now you're not allowed to leave.” You bring your head up, finally looking into Jackson’s eyes.

“Deal.”

~~Tag List:

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@rxbelprxyer

@destroyed-and-damned

#jackson wang #jackson wang imagine #jackson imagines #jackson imagine #jackson wang imagines #got7 jackson #got7 #got7 imagine #got7 imagines #goodwriterwithbadhabits

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