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strawberrysoup · 4 years

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Pocketful of Posies || Chapter 4

You’d been hiding for years and years now; from your family, from society, from alphas and packs. Suppressants were dangerous but effective and necessary for an omega who refused to be owned—but no suppressants were strong enough to fool the nose of a super soldier, who together with his pack would stop at nothing to bind you to them forever.

pairings: dark!Avengers x reader chapters: 4/? status: WIP warnings: A/B/O dynamics, power imbalances, noncon and dubcon sexual situations, loss of autonomy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat — this is a dark!fic, read at your own risk. not beta read (AKA there may be additional changes)

hey guys! i made a ko-fi! if you enjoy this and have some cash you could spare to help me out with my bills, id really appreciate it!

You wondered idly at his eyes, glancing between the brown and the blue with the kind of intent that betrayed the anxiety welling in your chest. His hair was short too, the last time you’d seen him in the papers it had been long. He was incredibly, uncomfortably handsome and your heart pounded, that stupid bitch lurking in your hindbrain was practically preening under his stare.

“Are you coming back to me little love?” He asked softly, frowning when you flinched back—you were so traumatized, the alpha couldn’t imagine what had happened to you, “focus on me now.”

“Her eyes clear?” Peter’s voice echoed slightly, coming from above, “they were so cloudy earlier.”

“Much clearer,” the blue eye and the brown eye crinkled at the corners, the blond smiling down at you in his arms as he made his way up a set of stairs, “I’d wager you’re even listening to me by this point.”

“Everyone needs to go through their clothes and pick out some things to offer up for the nest,” Steve didn’t sound like he was talking to anyone, rather to the room at large, but the prime’s voice coming from further than Peter’s, “she’ll need lots of options, we might have to fix them up for the first few weeks.”

“How is your nest building instinct, my love?” Thor rumbled, the sound traveling through his chest and vibrating down to your bones, “hopefully better than your submissive instinct, hm?”

There was a snorted laugh you couldn’t ascribe to anyone in particular and the whole thing made you bristle, every hair on your body was standing on end. Did they think it was funny? You were shattering into pieces, shards swept into a hurricane and scattered. You weren’t wearing your own clothes, your own skin didn’t smell right. Everything was wrong, sitting 10° off the proper axis. The thoughts spiraled —they would find all of your suppressant stashes, all of your weapons, the few things you’d taken when you ran away from home. Every second you spent in this house, your odds of escape plummeted.

You were transferred to a different pair of massive arms, Steve carefully restraining yours to your sides when you started to squirm and hushing you softly, “shh, precious, you’re okay. Let’s get you settled in. Thor, Nat just texted Carol that she and Clint should be here in the next half hour. Any ideas on Loki?”

The surface he laid you on was one of the softest things you’d ever felt. Your body practically melted over the ultra-comfortable mattress, white noise filling your brain with static for several long moments. When you came too, you instinctively inhaled deeply through your nose before yawning so hard your jaw cracked. If only there wasn’t a fucking alpha prime laying on his side directly next to you, one arm settled with a comforting pressure over your waist while the other propped his head up, you’d be quite comfortable.

A sudden flash of light jolted you from your fuzzy state, sitting upright abruptly only for the blond to firmly and smoothly force your back to the mattress again. His fingers traced swirls into the skin of your waist while he shushed you and you winced when his hand travelled higher over your ribs, thumb brushing a goosebump inducing arc over your flesh.

“S-stop,” your voice cracked as you reached down, pressing firmly against his arm—blood draining from your face as you realized his arm kept the hem of the oversized shirt you wore pulled far over your waist, “oh my God, get off—”

“Loki should be here shortly, I contacted him just after she ran out of the lab,” Thor stated from where he stood at the edge of what you realized was a bed the size of most bedrooms.

It was built into the floor in the corner of the room, a sea of pillows scattered across the surface and mixed in with blankets and sheets. It smelled—you realized you felt lightheaded almost, surrounded by the scent of the two alpha primes and their entire pack, it smelled so overwhelming. The back of your mind screamed that it smelled good, it smelled painfully and damningly good.

“I brought up some bags.”

Your head snapped to the stairs, watching a man with short brown hair come into view. He was shorter than Steve or Thor but still taller than Peter, built similarly to the finely toned young alpha. There was no extra bulk to the man, although you could see the bulge of his muscles through his long sleeved shirt. A delta, you would guess at a distance; there was plenty of dominance in his stance, but the he looked built to seduce rather than restrain.

Steve’s arm tightened around your torso, fingers carefully cupping the curve of your ribcage and pressing you more firmly into the bed. The prime was all too obviously meant to restrain, especially as he shifted, manipulating your uncooperative limbs until you were cradled in his lap while he sat against the wall behind the bed. His grasp was so entirely inflexible that you wondered what his bones were made of, his muscles—he didn’t strain for a moment, not even when you attempted to throw your entire body weight to the side.

“Any of those got a collar in ‘em, Buck?”

The prime’s hand came down over your mouth just seconds before you shrieked. The muffled noise sent shivers down the spines of the alphas in the room, the one holding you no exception. It wasn’t sufficient though, the pitch was critical to the sound’s efficacy and you couldn’t reach the proper volume. Lips pressed firmly into the side of your head, Steve still holding you so carefully you could barely move.

“Got a couple, here,” the brunet man, Buck, dug through the plastic shopping bags he’d set on the floor near the wall.

“Hey, hey, come on baby,” Peter had an obvious and serious aversion to your discomfort, emphasized by the way he quickly slipped onto the bed and plastered himself against Steve’s side so that he could wrap his arms around you, “they’re not choke or shock or spike collars, I promise they’re just pretty omega collars Bucky and Carol picked out. You’ll feel so much safer with a collar on, omega. Just hold still.”

The shift from Steve holding you down to Peter was almost unnoticeable, a shocking revelation. You swore you could sit on the kid and he’d end up a pancake, there was no way he should be able to hold you in place while you tried to thrash. One of his legs crossed over yours in Steve’s lap, the young alpha contorting you both until your forehead touched his and your body was curled with your neck extended. The hand over your mouth shifted and the scents changed, the newest addition belonging to the delta who must’ve been on the bed behind you.

“Here you go doll,” his voice was gravelly, a strange tone that sounded almost underused with a very slight burr that reminded you of an alpha’s purr—minus the calming pheromones.

“In the meantime,” Thor joined the crowd on the bed, shifting to settle just to Peter’s right and carefully avoiding Steve’s outstretched legs, “No shrieking, little love.”

The alpha command washed over you like tar, your chest seizing. Your vocal cords felt suspended, the more you tried to shriek the more painful the sensation got. The hand that hand been over your mouth slipped down to your chin, tipping your head back carefully as leather circled your neck. A reedy, whistling whine escaped your lips and Peter’s cheek was immediately rubbing against your face, down your neck and over the collar being tightened around your throat. He was scenting you, trying to provide comfort by drenching your skin with a protective perfume.

“Oh baby don’t make that sound,” he murmured, lips brushing over your face as the others shifted around the pair of you, “it’s for your own good, omega—”

“No!” Your voice rasped with the cry, “get it off! I won’t stay here, I won’t—”

“Regulate your breathing, precious, the collar will make you feel more secure,” in the shift Steve had ended up with you sitting on the bed between his legs, his ankles crossed to trap your lower body tightly while his fingers twined with yours to restrain your arms, “maybe it needs to be tighter? Bucky, is it pressing the hormone glands firmly enough?”

There was some shuffling and mumbling and you whined as the collar got a notch tighter, only slightly restricting your breathing. It was just this side of uncomfortable, walking the edge of distressing and you were forced to quickly calm your frantic breaths lest you hyperventilate—there was no telling what they’d do if you passed out, if you couldn’t control your breathing and fainted. You could feel the leather pressing the nodes on either side of your neck, causing a reaction that pumped your body full of chemicals. They were meant to induce intimacy and trust in an omega while alleviating stress, the constant oxytocin and endorphin production that flooded the system resulting in a low-grade addiction. Or so you’d hypothesized.

Omega physiology was a trash compactor of undesirable traits but the hormone set up was abhorrent, the limbic system an evolutionary disaster—two pituitary glands, two scent glands, and the thyroid were all located in the neck, the hypothalamus in the brain with the hippocampus and amygdala. You didn’t know the history of the collars, you didn’t have a head for timelines, but you knew that omega subjugation wouldn’t be so easy or convenient without them. It was like long term sedation with highly addictive chemicals; omegas didn’t stand a chance when their own body’s chemistry was used against them.

“This is inhumane,” you managed to choke out, between the rage and fear and high the collar caused you could barely keep your teeth from chattering, “I’m a human being, of sound mind—I can think for myself and protect myself—I don’t need or want a pack, I don’t—fuck, please listen to me!”

Your voice was weak and raspy, no wonder the omegas you always saw were so docile; your breathing was somewhat restricted, your vocal cords unable to reach full range. Even if Thor hadn’t given an alpha order you wouldn’t have been able to shriek, speaking was exhausting. The command would wear off in an hour or two and it wouldn’t even make a difference. How were you supposed to argue your suitability for autonomy if you couldn’t talk?

“Of course you’re of sound mind, love—”

“No, shut up!” You croaked, eyes flashing to Thor’s surprised face, “listen. Would you treat a beta this way? If I was any other presentation this behavior would be abhorrent—it would be illegal! Please, you’re superheros aren’t you? Be rational, for a moment, please!”

You didn’t realize Bruce had joined the group in the attic until he spoke, “betas don’t have a physiological requirement for physical contact with other presentations, sweetheart.”

A green light went off in your brain, a shine in your eyes as you looked at the doctor, “w-wait, wait I would argue—” your voice cut out for a second and you cleared your throat the best you could, desperation sitting in your stomach, “I would argue that your wording is inherently biased. Omegas don’t have a physiological requirement for contact with other presentations; their bodies require chemicals that it doesn’t naturally produce, the same way we require amino acids to survive—”

“You know your stuff, don’t you princess? Where’d you go to school?” Tony Stark emerged into the attic, still wearing the immaculately pressed suit he’d been in earlier, “you know, before you dropped out and went into hiding.”

“It’s disrespectful to interrupt someone when they’re speaking, you duplicitous bastard,” you spat, the presence of yet another delta setting your teeth on edge.

“Oh yeah, hey Buck did you meet y/n? She really hates deltas,” he was grinning, the asshole.

“Is y/n your real name, sweetheart?” Bruce asked, tossing Tony a stern look, “We found several IDs in your things, all different names. The contract we got from the cleaning agency listed your name as y/n.”

It took you a moment to think through the question—and another minute after that to remember which name you used while in Ontario. You real first name, fake last name. Fake age, maybe? Or was that the Quebec ID? Did your real name even matter at this point? It had been so long since it had meant anything to you (other than being the easiest name to respond to properly, but you could train yourself to answer to anything).

“My name is inconsequential,” you finally responded, eyebrows furrowing, “we’re debating the ethics of kidnapping people, remember?”

“That sounds like biased wording if I’ve ever heard it,” Stark snorted, “try preventing a vulnerable omega from being killed in the streets.”

“Over dramatic, no basis for fact, denied,” you snapped angrily, quickly turning your attention to Bruce, “come on, listen man! You’re subjugating the entire omega population based on inherently incorrect medical assumptions from two hundred years ago or something! The only scientific causation between modern omega theory and actual omega statistics is that the overall population of omegas has dropped dramatically since the induction of Omega Law!”

“There’s no proof that’s causation, sweetheart,” Bruce’s arms were crossed over his chest, “the odds lie in the favour of correlation.”

“We would know if any studies had been done! There have been less than twenty official studies regarding omega biology in the last ten years!” Begging—you were begging, you could hear it, “there haven’t been any studies done regarding the effects of the other presentation’s interference in omega behavior on their physiology! We know more about Olinguitos than we do omega’s chemistry and those’ve only existed in main stream science circles for the last six years!”

“You need to calm down omega,” Steve’s voice was one octave away from a purr, “you’re getting frantic and your heart rate is through the roof. You’re going to hyperventilate.”

“Y’all think she might be more comfortable if she wasn’t being surrounded on all sides by strangers?” Sam asked sarcastically from the stairway as he came up with a tray, his facial expression riding the fence between irritated and amused, “Peter, Bucky, back up guys. Thor, you really gotta be right there when Steve’s got the poor thing completely restrained?”

Hope was like a gut punch, bile rushing up your throat only for you to swallow it back down—gulping with the collar around your neck caused enough discomfort that you realized eating was going to be difficult. Your eyes locked on Sam as the bodies around you shuffled once again. Bucky and Peter both slipped off the bed, the young alpha sulking while the delta calmly returned to the bags he’d left sitting in the corner. Thor wasn’t so gracious as to outright back off, but he did scoot about a foot back on the bed.

“Alright sweetheart, first things first, are you hungry? Dinner’s gonna be about an hour so I brought up some snacks. If Steve let’s go of you, do you promise not to try to run off?” The man approached the edge of the bed, holding the tray against his hip, “we can have a discussion.”

Suspicion lanced through you, there was no way the offer was as innocent as it seemed. Most of the time engaging with people who wanted to have discussions didn’t go well but you weren’t sure what your alternative option was. There was no reason to test their patience at this point so you nodded slowly, feeling Steve’s chest press into your back as he sighed. He lifted you carefully and set you down onto the mattress, far more gracefully than any alpha prime had the right to be as he climbed off the bed.

“Now can at least some of you get out?” The alpha turned to stare back at his packmates still cluttering the attic, “please?”

They were all still for several seconds before Thor and Steve exchanged a heavy glance and both nodded, turning respectfully and walking down the stairs—another shocking display that made your heart stutter. An alpha prime silently acquiescing to the request of an alpha in front of their pack, signaling that others should follow, was a sign of an incredibly strong pack. It meant strong, competent leadership, respect, and consideration. Too bad they still considered you little more than an animal.

Bucky and Peter followed with mournful back glances, Tony moving to join them looking more exasperated than saddened. Bruce went to follow but you immediately felt a prospect of hope leaving with him.

“W-Wait, Bruce—right? Bruce, you’re rational, a scientist? Please, stay, let me debate this with you—”

“Hey! I’m a scientist too! I have PhDs!” Stark balked immediately, tossing his hands up as if to emphasize the aggravation her attitude was causing.

“Tony, don’t—”

“No, you stay too!” You cut Sam off when the alpha began to admonish his pack mate, “you’re an asshole but you understand fucking logic, I’ll take it.”

“What about me?” Peter squeezed eagerly back onto the landing, “I have three masters and—”

“Peter no, no more alphas in here please,” Sam stared the younger alpha down for just a moment with a stern eye, “please?”

Peter groaned but turned back, trudging down the stairs like a teenager. The air felt clearer when all that was left in the room was a three people other than yourself, the two scientists and the alpha. Part of you felt increasingly panicked, as if somehow the quiet setting was more ominous than the previous. The other part of you realized that this particular group was far less likely to violate you while you sat half naked on a bed than the others.

“Okay now,” Sam toed off his shoes before stepping onto the bed, carefully bringing the tray with him to set on your lap before he sat down, “let’s slow down for a few minutes. I know I don’t understand what you’re going through, but my little sister is an omega so I do have a little more knowledge than most of the pack. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on from your perspective.”

Burning frustration lit a path down your spine—this alpha might’ve seen omegas as more than pets, but he certainly spoke down to you like you were an irrational child. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on from your perspective?

“From my perspective I’ve been assaulted and terrorized and falsely imprisoned for I don’t know how long now!” You spat, practically vibrating in irritation, “you’re trying to justify this treatment because I’m an omega but my designation doesn’t mean I deserve to be treated like something to be caught and stolen! I want to leave, I want this horrible collar off my neck, and I want my stuff back! And if you tell me to calm down, so help me God—”

Sam’s mouth snapped shut from where he’d started to speak, immediately folding his hands into his lap and clearing his throat, “right, no telling you to calm down. Got it. Now, where are you from?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you grit your teeth slightly when the alpha sighed, “I want to leave, now.”

“You can’t leave sweetheart, not unless we get everything figured out. If you have an alpha, we’ll need to get you back to them. If you don’t, we certainly can’t just let you go back off on your own—it’s way too dangerous.”

“No it isn’t, I’ve been on my own for years and I’m fine! Not once have I had any problems, not until now!”

“Yeah, unfortunately for you our beta here has an alpha rage monster inside of him who managed to catch your scent beneath the suppressants,” Tony looked almost proud as he slung his arm over the beta’s shoulders, tugging him slightly, “if Bruce didn’t tip off Steve, who knows if he would’ve caught it.”

“Wow—Jesus Christ, you make me want to punch you in the face,” you snarled, hands clenching into fists in your lap, “I’m not a helpless omega, I’ve been happy, do you understand that? Do you know how rare it is for an omega to get to be happy? It’s like winning the lottery. Please, I like being happy. Please just let me go.”

“Sweetheart it isn’t rare for omegas to be happy,” Sam was frowning like you’d dropped a suicide note on his lip, “there are so few of them, they’re taken care of like royalty, baby.”

“Plus, omegas in packs are statistically less likely to suffer mental illness—”

“God, would you shut up about that?” Bruce’s eyes went wide when you snapped at him, “that study was trash, the bias was overwhelming and it hasn’t been replicated since. Omegas in packs wear collars that force their bodies to over produce oxytocin and when that’s removed they go insane from withdrawals. The same happens with the chemicals produced by the other presentations’ pheromones; instead of being given supplements to make up for the absence omega’s bodies are left to wilt. It has everything to do with medical malpractice and nothing to do with omega nature! There’s nothing happy about that!”

“Look, there are obviously places where the known biology of omega’s has holes,” Stark admitted, one hand in his pocket while the other was held aloft, “There’s a lot we don’t know, but what we do know is that when omegas are left to their own devices they end up dead.”

“They end up kidnapped, raped, and forcibly bonded by alphas!” If the collar had allowed the pitch you would’ve been shrieking, “By alphas who’s packs rape and bond the omegas, too. The only danger to omegas are the other presentations!”

“That’s why they have to be protected,” Sam emphasized his words with a dose of calming pheromones, and you snarled.

“Stop trying to manipulate me! All your doing is inhibiting my ability to think and feel for myself—do you not see how cruel and insane that is? That you’re literally attempting to—”

“This is a lot of ROR rhetoric,” Bruce sighed quietly, obviously aiming his words to Tony but you picked it up.

“There’s no such thing as ‘radical’ omega’s rights! We just want to be allowed to exist without our lives and hormones being constantly controlled by outside forces that we never chose!” Your voice broke towards the end and you realized tears were welling in your eyes—this conversation was not going your way and hope was dwindling rapidly, “why is that so hard to understand? That chemically controlling another human being is inhumane?”

“Alright, alright, let’s take a second and calm down,” Sam requested sternly, eyes widening when you immediately hissed, “Not just you, ‘mega. Everyone, including me, okay?”

It was truly a battle to fight down the ire rising in your throat, nearly choking you at the collar. You wondered cruelly if he’d treated his sister like she was an infant her entire life, if this was his bedside manner for omegas. The poor thing was probably so addicted to oxytocin she was barely alive.

“Please, let me go,” you begged quietly, squeezing your eyes shut against the tears, “if you have any humanity in you, let me go.”

When you looked up at him again, the doleful look on his face made your heart crumble to pieces.

“Lots of omegas are apprehensive at first, baby,” his voice was gentle, low and forlorn, “when you first present… my sister was seventeen. She was in so much pain and she begged for help, for almost a full week. When she came out of it she could barely remember how bad it had been but we remembered. The agony she’d suffered because she didn’t have an alpha through the process—we couldn’t let that happen over and over again, could we? As her packmates how could we let her endure that? She was upset at first, but now she has a pack that waits on her hand and foot, a whole slew of babies, anything she could ever ask for at her fingertips.”

“She was upset at first,” your heart broke for Sam’s sister, where ever she was, “you realize she was only able to be upset at first, right? Because after a while, she probably stopped being able to process the usual scale of emotion she enjoyed before you allowed her to be given a chemical lobotomy and sold her off—seventeen, God, she never even got to live and you’re talking about her like she’s some sort of success story?”

The look in the man’s brown eyes was getting darker and darker the longer you spoke but a dam had broke and your mouth kept moving, hoarse sounds barking borderline cruel words in fast succession.

“I hope her ability to feel betrayal went first so she didn’t have to deal with the memory of her family auctioning her off like fucking cattle. Success story,” you scoffed, lips lifted in a fang flashing snarl, “that wasn’t a fucking success story you knottedheaded piece of shit, it was a cautionary tale.”

#avengers x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #sam wilson x reader #tony stark x reader #carol danvers x reader #clint barton x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #bruce banner x reader #thor x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #dark!avengers #dark!avengers x reader #abo dynamics #pocketful of posies

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just-here-for-the-moment · 3 years

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Whiskey’s Best Girl (Part 3 of the “Whiskey’s Bad Girl” mini-series)

Part 1, Whiskey’s Bad Girl | Part 2, Whiskey’s Good Girl | Part 3, Whiskey's Best Girl

So this is a whole thing now, LOL. I whipped up “Whiskey’s Bad Girl” on a whim for my @quica-quica-quica and it took on a life of its own! I ain’t mad though, this was so fun to write!

Word count: 1900+

Rating: explicit, 18+ only

Outline: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x “You” (OC cis/het female reader, “blank canvas”/no physical description/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: consensual non-consent/CNC; dom/sub dynamics; use of “Sir” by Reader; demeaning/degrading language from Whiskey directed at reader (use of “girl”/”girlie” as nickname; use of “good girl”/”bad girl”); mature and vulgar language; mentions of lingerie/thong/bra; mentions of makeup/mascara/red lipstick; mentions of black high heels; use of wrist/ankle restraints/F receiving; use of a vibrator/F receiving; oral sex/F receiving; overstimulation/F receiving; nipple play/F receiving; clothed Whiskey/naked Reader; no aftercare scene

“Sit.” Whiskey walked you back to the bed and made you sit on the edge. He leaned down and looked deep into your eyes as he cupped your chin. “You got your safe word, right girlie?”

You nodded, “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.” Jack pinched your chin between his thumb and finger, and then gave you a deep and urgent kiss, delving his warm tongue into your mouth. He pulled away with a hum of satisfaction.

“Now lie down for me, sugar. I wanna give my good girl her reward.”

You lay back on the bed with your legs hanging off the edge, feet resting on the fuzzy area rug next to the bed. You turned your head and watched Jack cross to the bedside table and reach into the drawer for several bundles of silky black bondage rope and your vibrator.

He came back to the bed and sat on the edge near your head, “Hands.” A command, that deep voice matching his dark brown eyes.

You held your hands up and watched him wrap each wrist in a wide band of coiled rope, linking both together and leaving six inches of slack between them. He moved to the end of the bed and kneeled down, opening your legs wide.

Whiskey ran his fingers under the legband of your thong and pulled it to one side, then he pressed his face to your mound and flicked his tongue through your warm folds. He hummed in satisfaction, and the vibrations of his deep voice made you moan.

“Oh, my filthy, beautiful girl. You are just so tender and gorgeous tonight. I think you enjoyed your spankings a little too much.” He buried his face deep and worked you over with his tongue, pressing two thick fingers into you and curling them back as he licked. Your hips bucked until he held you down with one large hand placed flat against the front of your hip.

He pulled his face and fingers away and you whined at the absence of him. “You are such a good girl for me. I might have to paddle you more often.”

He reached for the waistband of your lace thong and tucked his fingers under it. “Okay if I pull this off, sugar?”

You chuckled and bit your lip. “You tell me, you’re the one in charge.”

“Oh, that’s right.” He hooked his fingers under the lace at both sides of the waistband and peeled the red lace thong off, then he tucked it in his shirt pocket. He stood.

“Legs up, girlie. High as you can.” You lifted both of your ankles and he grabbed them, bringing your legs up straight with your heels resting on one broad shoulder. He took up another length of the bondage rope and made quick work of it. Like your wrists, Whiskey wrapped and secured a wide cuff of rope around each ankle, leaving about eight inches of rope connecting them.

He hooked one big thumb behind your knee and pushed, bending your knees toward your chest. He curled his fingers in a ‘come here’ gesture, “Gimme your hands.”

You raised them up and watched Jack grab the last length of bondage rope and secure your ankles to your wrists with an X-shape knot. With your knees bent up toward your chest and your arms pulling your ankles back, your cunt was wide open, the tips of your black high heels pointed at the ceiling.

The sight of it all was breathtaking: your sexy black high heels, the rope, your hands bound… and most of all the handsome cowboy who had done it, standing just beyond your feet and grinning at his handiwork. He frowned for a moment and then tapped his lips, looking like he was pondering a problem.

“Hmmm…” he hummed. “Something’s missing.” His face brightened and he reached into his shirt pocket for your red lace thong, then he unfurled it and hung it over the heel of one shoe with a flourish.

“Now you’re pretty as a picture. And I want you to stare at your bad girl panties while I make you scream. You need to remember what a bad girl looks like while I fuck you.”

Your empty pussy clenched at his words and a wordless hum escaped your lips.

“You got that, girlie?”

You tried to catch your breath and get the words out. “Oh yes, sir.”

“Good.” Jack slapped the back of your thigh gently with his palm. He kneeled back down and grabbed hold of your hips, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed. He kept his big hands on you as he dove back down and started devouring you again, lips and tongue working hard against your clit. In no time at all you were bucking against his mouth and moaning, eyes fixed on the sight of your red lace thong hanging from your heel.

Jack put two fingers back in you and started pulling your orgasm from you, each curl and scrape of his fingers adding to the pressure and tingling in your core. You wiggled your hips and whined. Jack reached up with his free hand and found your nipple, twisting and pinching it between his broad fingers. The pressure and the pleasure built and built until you were writhing against his face.

Whiskey didn’t let you off the hook, he simply turned his head to chase your pussy no matter what direction you shifted your hips, making sure that his tongue stayed in contact with you as you writhed and moaned. Little slips of words rushed out from your mouth, ragged scraps of language that made no sense.

“Yes! No… ohhh.” You gasped. “Please, no- oh!… Jack, please…”

You felt everything coming to a sharp point, and you knew Jack could feel it too, how you clenched and pulsed around his fingers. He let go of your nipple and held his hand firm on your hip, finally holding you in place so he could finish you off.

You came hard around his fingers, gasping and moaning his name as he licked you through it, winding you down slowly with his tongue and slowing the pistoning of his fingers to match your comedown.

You finally felt yourself come back to center, groaning and stretching your legs as much as you could in the ropes. Jack sucked at your clit and then pulled his mouth off, leaving his fingers inside of you.

“Now, let’s see if you can do that again.” You heard him turn on your vibrator and you clenched around his fingers.

“Jack, I don’t-” He cut you off.

“Is that a safe word I hear, little girl? Or are you just trying to get out of having some fun?”

You gulped. “No, sir. No safe word.”

“Good.” Jack held the vibrator against the very tip of your clit and you felt electric shocks rocket through your nerves. The buzzing of the vibrator against your swollen nub was almost too much, nearly painful underneath the exquisite pleasure. You heard a high, involuntary “Oh!” leave your lungs as Jack just held it there.

You felt your second orgasm suspended, like it was right there if you could just get a little more pressure. Jack didn’t press the vibrator hard enough into you to send you crashing back into the waves, and he didn’t push his two fingers in and out. He was holding you just there, chained up and looking over the edge of the cliff.

You tried to breathe into your diaphragm, to calm yourself from the center out, but it was no use. The longer he held it there, the longer he kept his fingers in you but held them still, the more torturous it got. No matter how hard you squirmed and wiggled, you couldn’t get the buzzing to press any closer to your cunt. Whiskey kept that pleasure just out of reach.

You shifted your hips and whined, begging for release. “Jack, please- oh please Jack, please…”

“Please what, sugar?” His voice was low and commanding. “If you want somethin’ just ask for it.”

“Oh Jack, please please please please please!” You couldn’t get the words out, and your ability to breathe or to think was fading fast. You were fixated on the sight of your red lace thong suspended from your high heel, quivering as your legs shook in their restraints.

Jack started moving the vibrator side to side, miniscule movements that released some of the buzzing torture directly from the tip of your clit, but which also made it worse. The mounting pleasure toward orgasm was ebbing and then rushing back, then pausing again with each tiny movement.

You heard yourself shout a deep “Ah!!” that echoed into the bedroom. Now you couldn’t even form words, and your voice didn’t sound like your own.

“You gonna come for me, sugar? Or do I have to stop?”

“NO! Don’t- don’t stop, no stop.”

Jack chuckled low, his voice going dark again, dangerous. “You gonna tell me what you want, girlie?”

“Come- Jack. I- I wanna- I wanna come.”

“Good girl.” Jack pressed the vibrator gently into you, nestling it into the channel of flesh on one side of your clit and holding it down with his broad thumb.

Your second climax overwhelmed you, and you shot off the cliff, over the edge into bliss, tears streaming from your eyes as you shouted yourself hoarse. You shuddered and writhed, incapable of closing your legs or pushing Jack away to stop the awful, delicious spasms that wracked your body. You breathed in great shuddering gulps of air and then released them with a wail as more tears ran from your eyes.

You had never come like this before, crying and screaming with what sounded like pain, while all the while your nervous system was somersaulting with exquisite pleasure, the shocks of your orgasm causing you to squeeze hard around Jack's fingers.

You rode it out for as long as you could, and then you turned, bucking your hips to try to knock Jack’s grip loose, to try and dislodge the vibrator. Just as you were about to shout the safe word, Jack released his thumb and pulled the vibrator away. Relief flooded your system as you felt every muscle in your body relax at once.

Jack stood up and started to untie your ropes. When the first knot released, your arms fell back above your head and you groaned from deep in your chest. Jack rested your ankles again on his broad shoulder as he started to untie your legs. He kissed your ankles one by one. You looked at him with complete adoration.

“Was that good for you, darlin’?” He winked at you as he pulled your high heels off and rubbed his warm hands around both ankles.

“Yes… oh fuck yes, Jack. Please fuck me now.”

Jack laughed and smiled at you indulgently. “Why, sugar. I thought you’d never ask.”

He released your legs, turning you sideways on to the bed before he came up next to your head and released your hands. You watched him as he took off his shirt and belt, pants and boots. He finally stripped out of his underwear and then lay next to you on the bed, looking deep into your eyes and laying soft kisses to your lips as he stroked your face.

“You alright, darlin’?”

You smiled and nodded. “Yes Jack, but oh my God, I’ve never come so hard in my life. That was amazing.”

He kissed the tip of your nose and ran one broad thumb under your eye to collect some of the tears that lay there, sooty from your mascara. His deep brown eyes met yours as he murmured to you softly.

“I love you, you know that sugar? My sweet, filthy little thing. You’re my best girl.”

--- Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels character masterlist Just-here-for-the-moment’s masterlist

The only tag list I have for fics: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell--lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme @eri16 @mandocrasis @pilothusband @bastillealmighty @jitterbugs927 and tagging @babiiface95 because you liked the last two of these!

#Agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x female reader #agent jack whiskey daniels #agent jack whiskey daniels x you #agent jack whiskey daniels x reader #agent jack whiskey daniels x female reader #pedrostories #pedro stories #pedro pascal characters

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ktinastrikesback · 3 years

Note

Tina! Ive been rewatching S4 and I have an urgent observation for your analysis:

So in Breaking Point (my sleep paralysis demon, as you know) in Christopher's room there is that little board by his door with those four drawings tacked to it: one pic is a boat in water, one is of trees, one is of a rainbow, and one is of his family showing him, Eddie, and Shannon.

In 4x13, they show this board again but all those pictures are gone. In its place is some generic poster about music.

I am in a state of peak hiatus crackheadery, but do you think there's a parallel or some greater symbolism here? Especially considering this episode marks the shift of Chris's family dynamic (Buck being his de facto guardian)? After the universe mobile and the Moving Poster I am highly suspicious about all backdrop objects.

@kitkatpancakestack my love! Thank you for sending me this! I was actually rewatching some scenes the other day and wondered when exactly they changed the board in Chris’ room, so thank you for providing me with an answer! Interesting that it changes between Breaking Point and Suspicion.

I think they’re probably just trying to shift Chris into his pre-teen era, but it’s also interesting that the family drawing including Shannon goes away after Breaking Point. “I wish I could forget,” Chris tells Buck, and then of course Buck assures him that if people leave, it’s okay to miss them, it’s okay to move on. Maybe Chris keeping that drawing up was his way of holding on to that memory, and his conversation with Buck helps him decide to take it down. I don’t know what the significance of the trees and rainbow may be, but I am pretty sure the boat links to the tsunami. Perhaps Chris’ removal of these drawings is him finally being able to let go of two major traumas from his past and move on.

Of course, it’s most likely that he just wanted to redecorate his room/the prop department wanted to change things up, and I made this sad/emotional for no reason 😂 But best believe, I will be hyper-vigilant about the solar system and other universe imagery in s5!

#kitkatpancakestack is the best #Breaking Point haunts me too #good observation!!#I’m interested to see where our universe theory goes as s5 starts #I hope they continue with it #and it wasn’t just a season 4 thing #I love Chris #911onfox #911 speculation #christopher diaz

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jibber-jibber-chicken-dinner · 3 years

Text

Sexy Things Happen Bingo -- Dom/sub

♡ Title: Until It's All Right

♡ Word Count: 2,982 words.

♡ Relationship: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz

♡ Rating: Explicit (18+, nsfw elements, BDSM.)

♡ Warning: Not Applicable

♡ Summary: Eddie and Buck plan an afternoon to try something new in the bedroom amid their Dominant & Submissive dynamic.

♡ Beta: Not Beta Read

♡ Notes: A request by @perfectlynervousbeard for the Dom/sub square on @milkymarjan's Sexy Things Happen bingo card. Featuring Dom/sub (obviously), wax play, bondage/restraints, gagging, spanking, and comfort & aftercare. An already-established safeword and the color system ARE INCLUDED (as they should be, in any BDSM scene).

Read on AO3.

Buck looked himself over in the mirror, biting his lips and exhaled a breath once he'd decided that, yeah, he was going to do this. 'It's Eddie,' he reminded himself silently, 'He is going to take care of you, and he won't make you do anything he knows you aren't okay with. Now get out there.'

Buck gave himself a quick, chin jerk of a nod before he threw open the door and headed into Eddie's bedroom to find his boyfriend laying on the bed, naked, posed kind of seductively and looking lazily up at Buck (who was also naked) when he'd emerged from the bathroom.

"Was starting to think you'd flushed yourself down the toilet or something." The brunette commented, his lips quirking into a smirk once Buck's cheeks coated in a light pink.

"No, I- I was just working up the nerve to get out here and tell you that I...I wanna try this. I really wanna try this. I'm ready."

"Yeah? You're sure?" Eddie asked, getting up and making his way towards Buck, cupping the blonde's face in his palms and rubbed Buck's cheek bones softly. The younger man nearly purred at the touch and he nodded, his expression dazed as he locked eyes with Eddie, "I'm sure, Eds."

The blonde leaned in for a kiss; a question and a request at the same time. Eddie hummed fondly, closing the space between their lips and kissed his boyfriend with pure adoration, love, and infatuation. Buck whimpered, wanting more, his mind suddenly reeling at all the possibilities of tonight. Eddie’s lips quirked into a smirk as they remained pushed against the blonde’s still; he dropped his right hand down to Buck’s hip, his fingers digging in as he yanked the younger man forward possessively.

Eddie tore his lips off of Buck’s, moving to press them against the blonde man’s earlobe, “Get on the bed, lay on your back and put your arms above your head; no sounds, no talking, got it?”

Buck shivered and nodded frantically, his cock already twitching with interest at the change in his Dom’s tone. “Go on, then.” Eddie ordered, pulling away from the man totally; Buck whimpered at the loss of contact but did as he was told, laying down on the bed, on his back, placing his arms above his head and clasped his hands as they rested against the headboard.

Eddie returned to the bed after rummaging in their closet with a few items in his hands. Buck bit his lip when he stared down the ball gag and leathery cuffs laying on the bedsheets by his thigh. He swallowed, looking up at Eddie with nervous eyes but didn't say a word like Eddie had said.

"What's our safeword? You may use your words." Eddie asked.

"Sunflower, sir." Buck answered immediately. 'Sunflower' had been their safeword for almost three years, and Eddie always made sure Buck knew it was valid and okay to use it at any time during their scenes in the bedroom.

"Color?" The Dom prompted gently, returning to his familiar caring nature, never wanting to push Buck too far or ask for too much without being absolutely sure that his Sub could take it.

"Green." Buck answered, smiling timidly.

Eddie did not his usual affirming smile, instead he lifted a brow, "Green, what?"

Buck flushed, squirming a little, "Green, s-sir." He whispered.

"What was that?" Eddie growled, inching his lips towards Buck's, his eyes dark in lust for the younger man. Buck whimpered, his cock hardening just from the tone of Eddie's voice alone.

"I said: green, sir." He clarified, louder this time.

"Good boy." Eddie murmured, joining their lips in a chaste kiss before he pulled away and picked up the cuffs, "Hands in place." He said.

Buck complied, separating his clasped hands and stretched his arms out so Eddie could cuff him into place. The brunette hummed his approval, securing Buck's wrists and asked, "Good? Or too tight? You may use your words."

"It's perfect, sir. Thank you." Buck answered, to which Eddie rewarded him with another brief kiss on the lips for remembering to say "thank you."

Buck wanted to mewl his desire for a longer kiss but he stopped himself; he wanted to be good, always good, for his Eddie.

The brunette then lifted the ball gag from its place next to Buck’s thigh and held it towards the blonde’s face, “Is this okay?”

He hadn’t given Buck permission to use his words, so the younger man just nodded his consent. Eddie fastened the gag around Buck’s head, slipping the ball part between the blonde’s lips and shifted it so it sat in Buck’s mouth comfortably. “What do you do to safeword when you can’t speak?” Eddie prompted.

Buck snapped his fingers three times.

“What if I don’t hear your fingers?”

Buck thumped his foot on the mattress twice.

“Good boy.” Eddie said, stroking Buck’s jaw softly before he shifted away to grab a candle that Buck hadn’t even noticed he had placed on their nightstand, next to the bed where Buck was cuffed. “We’re going to start slow, okay?” Eddie said, gesturing from the candle to Buck’s body; the blonde nodded his silent agreement. “It’s a vanilla massage candle; the wax from the candle is actually made to go on your body, that’s why I picked this one,” The brunette explained as he took a lighter from inside the drawer of the nightstand, “I’m going to start just below your shoulders, and then make my way to your chest, alright? Snap once if you’re okay with that, Buck.”

Buck snapped his right thumb and index finger together, never breaking contact with Eddie’s eyes. He wanted to be good; he wanted to do this; but he knew Eddie wouldn’t think less of him if he couldn’t, if it at any point became too much. Buck knew it was okay to safeword.

He watched as Eddie lit the candle and his eyes followed the flame that flickered back and forth, almost mesmerizingly. “Good boy. Being so good, Evan.” Eddie said in that familiar low and soft voice that could make Buck float, and just keep floating until Eddie pulled him back down to Earth after their scene was over. The blonde made a “mph,” noise through the gag in his mouth, then startled as he remembered the “no noises” rule that Eddie had placed.

Eddie lifted a brow, “Did I give you permission to make noise?”

Buck shook his head slowly, his eyes pleading; he just wanted to be good, so good, good for his Dom, good for Eddie.

“Strike one.” Eddie hummed simply, his eyes watching the wax collect beneath the flame on the candle.

Strikes? There were strikes? Buck didn’t know that there were strikes, but he wasn’t complaining.

“Okay, I’m going to start.” Eddie said, locking eyes with Buck again. The blonde nodded, pretty much having to bite his tongue or else he was afraid a noise would slip through showing how excited and eager he was to cover this new ground with his Dom.

“Good boy.”

Eddie tilted the candle above Buck’s collarbones and his heart leapt as he felt the hot (but it was a comfortable kind of hot, not hot like burning) wax drop onto his skin, just below his left shoulder. This time he actually bit his tongue in his attempt to stop the hum that probably would have escaped his throat otherwise.

“Nod if this is okay, Buck. Is the temperature good?”

Buck nodded slowly, intrigued by this new feeling on his skin; he didn’t know what to make of it yet, but he didn’t hate it.

And he definitely did not hate it when Eddie began massaging the wax (which was kind of oily, honestly) into his skin, smoothing over his left breast. His breathing hitched when Eddie’s thumb swiped a nipple, and the barely-there-smirk on the brunette’s lips told Buck that, yeah, he totally did that on purpose.

‘Ass.’

Eddie met Buck’s gaze again, “I’m going to do more now, Buck, okay? Nod for me if that’s okay.”

Buck nodded slowly but eagerly; this wasn’t so bad at all.

Eddie dripped more of the wax onto Buck’s right side, and it was definitely more than the first time. Buck squirmed as the heated wax trickled down his shoulder, his collarbone, and down right over his nipple, and-

‘Oh god, that’s nice.’

Buck tilted his head back and blushed as he felt his cock twitch in interest between his thighs. “You like that, huh?” Eddie husked, rubbing the wax over the blonde’s right breast and up to his shoulder, then down again and he tweaked a nipple. It fucking felt good.

Buck tried to focus on how much he didn’t want to make a noise and disappoint his Dom, but goddamn it, a whimper slipped out because how the fuck could it not when Eddie was being so Eddie?

“Was that a sound, Evan?” Eddie growled.

‘Shit.’

“Did you make a sound, when I don’t remember giving you permission to make a sound?” The brunette asked, resting the candle on the nightstand. Fuck.

Buck gulped, looking into Eddie’s eyes with pleading ones as he all but silently begged for mercy from his Dom. Eddie tutted, “That’s strike two, sweetheart. One more strike, and I’m going to have to punish you, alright? Nod if you understand, Buck.”

Buck nodded his understanding. Eddie returned with a small, affirming smile. “Good boy. Be good for me, Evan, I know you can.”

Buck all but melted on the inside; Eddie’s good boy. He was Eddie’s. He could be good, he could be silent. He could.

His heart stuttered when he caught Eddie leaning down his torso, his breath ghosting over Buck’s abs and drifting over Buck’s semi hardened cock. It jerked when Eddie licked a stripe over his right hip bone, sinking his teeth into Buck's flesh in a soft love bite, and the blonde man swallowed hard once he felt goosebumps rising where the brunette’s breath tickled over his groin. Eddie smirked at the very silent but very obvious reaction his actions were earning from his Sub and he basked in the way he could milk every bit of desperation from Buck; the younger man was such a whore for Eddie’s lips and his tongue. Eddie knew this, and he was purposefully being a shit about it.

Buck ground his teeth; he would not make a sound, he would be good for Eddie. He would.

“So eager,” Eddie mused, his every breath igniting Buck’s arousal and causing his cock to stiffen, “Such an eager little slut for me, hm?”

Buck glared down at Eddie who was now looking up at the blonde through his lashes; his mouth painful inches away from his Sub’s dick. “Bet you just want me to take you in my mouth, swallow you down, and make you cum quick and easy, right?” He drew out. “But we’re not going to do that, Evan. I want to make this last.”

Buck’s head hit the pillow with a light thump and he shut his eyes; of course Eddie wanted to make this last. But Buck was so ready for this to be moving along; he wanted, no, he needed Eddie.

The younger man suddenly felt fingers gripping his jaw; his eyes snapped wide open in surprise and then Eddie’s face appeared in front of his own, “You’re going to look at me, Evan,” the brunette demanded. “Got that? Blink twice if you understand.”

Buck did as he was asked.

Eddie smiled small, his grip on Buck's jaw releasing before he soothed the tense muscle with his thumb. "Good boy. 'M gonna fuck you now, Buck. But I'm gonna put a ring around your cock so you don't cum. No sounds, no talking, but I'm going to remove the gag. You're on your last strike; one sound, one noise, and I'll punish you. Understand? Nod if this if you understand, Buck."

The blonde man nodded, feeling a bit of drool dribbling down past his lip and his chin. He would be good.

Eddie continued caressing his Sub's jaw and with his free hand, he unfastened and removed the gag. "What's your color, Evan?"

Buck swallowed the saliva that had collected in his mouth while the gag had been inside before he said, "Green... sir."

Eddie grabbed a tissue and wiped Buck's chin gently. "That's my boy." Eddie murmured, rubbing his thumb along the man's cheekbone before he grabbed their bottle of lube from their nightstand.

He lathered his half-hard cock, stroking it to get it to reach full hardness and Buck watched with hungry eyes. The blonde man licked his lips, squirming where he was restrained. He wanted to touch. He wanted to touch his Dom, touch his cock, run his hands down Eddie's chest, grab onto his shoulders as the older man fucked him, rope his fingere through his brown hair; he wanted, needed, his Dom.

Eddie kneeled by Buck's thighs, spreading them with his strong hands and rubbed a generous amount of lube in his right hand, over his fingers.

He circled the ring of tight muscles, pushing against Buck's hole teasingly; the younger man bit down on his lip, squirming his ass against the bedsheets. Eddie smirked.

The brunette continued the teasing a few seconds longer before his index finger slipped into Buck's ass up to the last knuckle. Eddie quirked a brow.

"You're loose," he observed. "Have you played with yourself today?"

Buck looked at Eddie, silent. Eddie chuckled, "You may use your words, Buck. Good boy for remembering."

Buck preened even though he knew he was about to be in trouble for touching himself earlier without permission. He nodded, "E-Earlier this afternoon. I-I'm sorry, sir, I know I shouldn't have."

Eddie tutted, removing his finger from Buck's ass and the blonde had to swallow a whimper at the loss.

Eddie shuffled up the bed, unfastening the restraints on Buck's wrists. "Get over my lap, Buck. You broke the rules; I'm going to give you ten spanks for touching yourself without permission. When are you allowed to safeword during your punishment? You may use your words." He asked.

"At any time, sir." Buck answered promptly; Eddie always made sure Buck remembered the rules regarding safewording. Buck was allowed to safeword at any time in which he was not okay with what was happening; at any time that his color was not green.

"What's your color?"

"Green, sir."

Eddie nodded, seating himself at the edge of their bed and beckoning for Buck to position himself. The blonde made his way towards his Dom, draping himself over Eddie's lap; his stiff cock pinned between his torso and Eddie's thigh.

He bit his lip harshly to hold in a moan as Eddie's thigh shifted, rubbing against Buck's now-touch-sensitive shaft.

"Count for me, Buck." Eddie said. Buck closed his eyes and waited for the first force of impact.

And as he anticipated, Eddie's large hand came down in a SMACK over Buck's right cheek. The blonde grit his teeth and squeaked, "One."

By the time they reached "four", Buck had tears rolling down his cheeks, but he was okay. He didn't need to tap out. He grounded himself in the feel of Eddie's hand pressing against his chest to hold him.

"Five!" Buck yelped on the fifth, biting his bottom lip, now raw from abuse.

At "nine", Buck's thighs were trembling and the cry of "ten!" was barely coherent through the shakiness of his voice. But he was okay; his head flopped against the edge of the mattress and Eddie's voice came from a far distance.

Buck was pulled up and into Eddie's chest, his cock leaking precum against his stomach and he could feel Eddie's own erection pressing against his skin. But these sensations were hardly noticable against the tingling of his nerves and the buzz in his ears.

"Good boy," Buck heard Eddie whisper into his ear. The blonde thought he replied but it probably came out in a slur and barely audible. "So good, Buck. You took your punishment so well, Evan. You've been such a good boy for me, babe. I've got you."

Buck's head was heavy; he let all of its weight fall and rest against his Dom's shoulder, his face nuzzled into the crook of Eddie's neck.

"Come back, Buck. Come back to me. Slowly, take your time... We'll stay here until you're ready, sweetheart."

Buck's cock was heavy and needing attention, but it hardly mattered right now. All he could feel was the blanket that was his Dom's arms wrapped securely around him, holding him in place, grounding him, calling him back to Earth.

"Good boy, Evan. I love you so much. I'm right here, take your time, you're safe, Buck."

Buck's mouth was dry. He tried moving his head to look up through glazed eyes to be met with Eddie's warm, loving hazel orbs. "I'm right here, Buck. What do you need, babe?" The brunette asked softly. Buck hummed, eyelids falling shut again and he mumbled, "Water?"

"I'm going to lay you back while I get the water, okay?" Eddie said, his voice like a blanket of warmth and soft as wool engulfing Buck in a strong embrace. The blonde man smiled subconsciously.

Strong arms lifted Buck, laying him back against the mattress and bedsheets, a kiss pressed to his head. Buck was barely aware of the time between laid back and when Eddie returned beside him with a glass of tapwater.

Eddie lifted Buck's head and the blonde drank in earnest. He curled into Eddie's side, knowing they would continue with their scene when Buck was fully back down on Earth, fully aware of his surroundings.

And Eddie was perfectly okay with waiting, holding his Sub until all was okay.

Leave a review and your thoughts! I'd love to know what yall think about our first published Buddie smut piece 😂🙈

💕💕💕

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the-mighty-jellybean · 4 years

Text

Rising From The Earth

Series Summary: After months of trying, and several heats, and ruts, Y/N was now beginning her journey on her road to motherhood. All Steve and Bucky wanted to be is supportive and strong for their Omega, but life doesn't always run so smoothly....

Series Warning: a/b/o dynamics (the fun stuff that comes with that) Smut, Accurate Representation of Pregnancy and (eventually) Childbirth, Strong Language (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader X Bucky Barnes

Part One: Skin To Skin

Chapter Warning: Strong Language, Vomiting, Fluffy!Stucky

Word Count: 1.8K

8 Weeks

“I hate this.”

You croaked, your head hanging inches away from the rim of the toilet, body trembling slightly from both exhaustion and the effort of expelling your stomach content.

“I know, baby, I know.” Bucky said, as he scooped your hair from your face, securing it in a small elastic hair tie, before placing his warm, soothing hand on your back. He rubbed gentle circles, as you began to heave again.

It was fruitless, as you had already evacuated everything, nothing but bile clogging your throat and nose. You heard movement behind you, and a second hand went to your back.

“You finished, honey?” Steve’s voice broke through the sound of your coughing and sniffing.

“I think so, I’ve got nothing left.” you splutter, your voice heavy with weariness. You sit back, landing in Bucky’s crossed legged lap, he wrapped his arms around you, and rubbed your stomach, easing the strain.

“Drink some of this, sweetheart.” Steve sat opposite the two of you, holding out a glass of water. You take it from him, and Bucky’s hands go over the top of your’s, in an attempt to steady your shaky fingers.

“Sip it, darlin.” Bucky encourages you. You slowly drink down the cooling liquid, cringing slightly when it mixed with the bile, that had collected in your mouth, and stuck to the sides, and your teeth.

“Do you wanna stay in here, sweetie, or do you wanna go back and lay down?” Steve asked you, rubbing your ankle soothingly.

“I don’t know, Alpha.” you squeak, tears pricking your tired eyes, “nowhere is comfortable, I’m so tired, I just want to sleep, but the moment I lay my head on the pillow, my stomach starts doing summersaults. If I’m not sleeping, I’m vomiting; and if I’m not vomiting, I’m trying to sleep.”

The tears are flowing freely down your face now. Damn hormones.

“Oh baby.” Steve says, crawling towards you and Bucky, he sits so that his feet are either side of Bucky, as he faces you, swiping his thumb over your damp cheeks, collecting the salty water, and pushing it away.

“It won't be much longer, Dr Cho said that the morning sickness should pass soon.”

“Or ease.” you correct, Dr Cho’s exact words were, that the morning sickness would ease as the pregnancy progressed, but there was no guarantee that it would stop completely.

“Be positive, little one.” Bucky reminded you, giving you a soft kiss, on your scent gland. The smell of your Alphas seemed to be stronger now that you were pregnant, and the bond between the three of you seemed to match, and felt unbreakable.

“Just think, in a few months we’re gonna have a little pup, all for ourselves.”

“I know, it’s just the journey getting there, that I’m worrying about.” Bucky gripped you tighter, but still being mindful of your fragile state.

“Sweetheart, you don't need to worry. Steve and I, are gonna be with you every step of the way.” Bucky kisses the side of your head, you push back, so he knows you’re trying to acknowledge his words.

“Come on, honey. Let’s get you into bed. We can all cuddle, and watch a movie or something.” Steve says, pecking your nose. Now that you had stopped throwing up, you could hear the soft pelting of the rain, on the windows of your room, and the thought of being snuggled up with your Alphas, watching a movie sounded amazing.

You nod your head, not trusting your voice, and take hold of Steve’s hands, as he helps you to stand.

“Easy baby, easy.” Bucky holds your hips, as you start to ascend into the air, both steadying you, and preventing you from moving to quickly. Once you’re stood, Steve wraps his arms tightly around you, and gives you a kiss on the head, before he bends down and lifts your shirt, revealing the minuscule bump underneath. He placed a gently kiss, just above your bellybutton, which caused your heart to flutter.

“Be nice to mommy, little one. She’s doing her best to make sure you are nice and healthy, but she can’t do that if you’re gonna keep making her sick.” he speaks with his lips pressed against the skin, just to make sure the small foetus inside can hear his words. They let you brush your teeth, before steering you out the door.

They both guide you back to your shared bed, Steve climbing into bed first, before Bucky helped you settle in between his legs. You lent back, your whole body relaxing the moment your shirt touched his skin.

You needed to feel more of his warmth, you sat up, only to be pulled back against Steve’s chest, you whined in frustration.

“What sweetheart, what’s the matter?” he asked, encasing you within his larger arms. You’re too tired to speak, and just regressed to pulling at your shirt, and continuing to whine.

“What sweetie, what do you want me to do. Use your words.”

“Wanna feel your skin.” you mumble trying once more to pull your shirt off, from within Steve’s grip.

“Alright, baby. But you need to use your words, honey. Otherwise, how are me and Buck, supposed to know what you need.” he lightly scolded, before leaning forward slightly to remove your shirt.

You press your naked back, against his uncovered chest, sighing in content.

“That feel better, darlin?” you nod your head, and snuggle further into his chest. His scent was helping to sooth your twisting and turning stomach. Bucky tucked the blankets around you, and you whimper in protest when he walked towards the kitchen and away from you.

“I’m coming back, little one. I’m just gonna make you some toast.”

“No.” you squeak, the very thought of letting something pass your lips, and swallowing it down your sore and used throat, made your stomach churn.

“Baby, you gotta eat something, think about the pup.” Steve reminded you, but you just pulled your knees up, before twisting so you could bury your head into Steve’s chest.

“No hiding, doll. Come on.” Steve tried to coax you out by rubbing his fingers over your back, but that only further relaxed you in his grip.

Bucky returned shortly, holding a plate of plain toast. You curled further into Steve’s chest, desperate to get away from the smell, that was making you choke.

“Come on, baby. Look it’s nice and plain.” Steve takes the plate from Bucky, so he can climb into bed with you. He waves it under you nose, and you recoil further.

“Just one bite, darlin. Just a small one.” you still shook your head in dismissal.

“Omega, don’t make me use my Alpha voice.” Steve threatened, “you have to eat something, for the pup’s sake.”

“But it’ll make me sick.”

“You gotta try, darlin.”

“Can you go and get me a bowl, or bucket or something, just incase.” you asked, lifting your head to meet Bucky’s concerned eyes.

“Of course, baby.” He got up, quickly going to the kitchen and grabbing, a big enough silver bowl, before climbing back into bed.

Reluctantly, you sit up and Steve moves the plate so it is right underneath you. You hold you’re breath, trying to swallow the gag that is making it’s way up your throat.

You pick up one of the plain pieces of toast, and lift it cautiously to your lips. Slowly you take a bite, and swallow it hard, before it really has a chance to settle on your taste buds.

“Good girl.” Bucky coos, a small kiss going on your forehead, you take two more bites, before pushing the plate away.

“No more, please.” you plead, you could feel the pieces of toast, travelling down your digestive system, you only hoped that they remained there.

“Alright, honey. We can try again a little later.” Steve smiles, into your hair. You push back against him, and he slowly reclines, laying you both down, while Bucky turns the TV on.

You were only sat there for around half an hour, when the all to familiar feeling in your stomach began to happen. You sit up sharply, Steve’s hands immediately going to your back, while Bucky grabs the bowl from the floor, at the side of your bed.

“It’s okay, baby girl, it’s okay.” Steve was rubbing small, slow circles into your back, it helped to calm you, for a while, but it wasn’t long before your body began to quake once again, with the force your body was exerting.

You coughed, as the pieces of toast you had only swallowed a moment ago, were re-appearing in the bowl, in Bucky’s hands.

“Shh, it’s alright, little one.” Bucky soothed, still holding the bowl, as you continued to gag and retch. Finally your stomach settled, and you collapsed back into Steve’s arms, utterly exhausted.

“Sh, It’s all done now, honey, it’s all done.” Steve hushed you, rubbing up and down your arms, trying to halt your body’s shivers.

“I want it to stop.” you strain, the tears returning. You were so drained, and your hormones that were going a million miles an hour, were not helping.

“It will, darlin. It’s going to stop soon.”

“No it won't. I’ve got to go through this for another eight months. I can’t do it.” You twisted in Steve’s arms once again, sitting with your legs either side of him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, head curled into his shoulder.

“Baby listen to me.” Bucky moved closer to the two of you, wrapping his arms around the pair of you, “you are so strong, honey. You’re our brave, little Omega. You can do anything. You’ve been through far worst than this, and you were on your own for most of those things. It’s gonna be different this time, because you’re gonna have me and Alpha, taking good care of you, and helping you through it.”

He gently runs his fingers through your hair, slowly coaxing you to look at him, finally your tear tired, eyes land on his empathathy filled ones.

“It’s gonna be okay, little one. It’s gonna be just fine.” he kissed your forehead, and you give him a small, uneasy smile, which is soon replaced by a much larger yawn.

“Now, I think somebody needs to get some sleep, don’t you?”

You nod your head at his words, Steve and his’ soothing hands caressing your hair and back, slowly lulling you to sleep.

Steve gradually lays you both down. Giving you small kisses to the head, as you go.

“We’ll make an appointment with Dr Cho, and see if she can give you something to help with this.”

That’s the last thing you heard, before your eyelids dropped, and soon the only noise coming from your mouth, were soft snores, as you pressed your chest harder against Steve.

The feeling of his warm skin, relaxing every aching muscle.

Part Two//

A/N: I’m back! Hope you guys love this story, as much as the last. I’m not sure if my posting will be as rapid as the one before, because that damn nearly killed me, but I promise to not leave huge gaps. I think it’ll probably be a chapter a day, rather than two a day.

TAGLIST:

@mikariell95 @sexyvixen7 @booboobella01 @rororo06 @vickstaahh @krazykatkay456 @winchester-wifey @nightlygiggles @coonflix @broco8 @animegirlgeeky @amanda-the-fangirl

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queenxxxsupreme · 4 years

Text

Surrender* (Lambert x reader)

A/N: Sub!Lambert is finally here! I’ve been working on him for so long and I hope this is good! I’m putting it below the cut because we get right down to business. This is my first time writing a dom/sub dynamic this intense so please be nice about it! I know there’s a lot of room for improvement but I spent forever working on it and doing my best to make it perfect.

Warnings: SUB!LAMBERT, light spanking, dom/sub dynamics, oral (male receiving) handjob, blowjob, cum play, ass play, nipple play, light biting, pegging, butt stuff, begging, multiple orgasms, very brief thigh riding, mentions of spanking as a punishment, Lambert trying (and failing) to top from the bottom

Word Count: 6.1k

You hummed softly as you moved around the bed, inspecting the bonds holding Lambert’s wrists to the poles at the top of the bed. Your fingertips brushed along his forearm, admiring the muscles that flexed beneath his warm skin.

“Are these too tight?” Your eyes flickered up to his face. His eyes were closed. He was listening to you, no doubt. Listening to your heart beat steadily and to the way you breathed evenly. Listening to the way you moved around the bed with slow, quiet steps, like a predator encircling their prey.

“No.” He grumbled, his tone irritated.

You brought your hand down to smack the inside of his thigh with your fingers. It wasn’t enough to hurt, but it was enough to get his attention.

He jolted, eyes snapping open, and lifted his head to look at you.

“Don’t be rude, Lambert.”

“Just think it’s stupid how you’re taking forever working on the ropes.” He turned his head to look up at one of the ropes bounding him to the bed. He gave it an experimental tug. It didn’t budge.

“I want to make sure they aren’t going to hurt you.”

“M’fine.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m a witcher. Whatever happens, I’ll heal.”

You stopped at his side, sitting down on the edge of the bed. You placed your hand on his sternum, gently brushing across a nasty scar that pulled at his skin.

“Just because you can heal quicker than others doesn’t mean I’m going to be any less careful with you.” You spoke softly. “Doing this means you trust me to not hurt you, to do what is in your best interests. And it means that you are giving up your control for me. If you don’t like the way I’m doing this, then we don’t have to do it.”

“No.” He muttered, eyes falling to where your hand rested on him. “I want to do this.”

You smiled softly, standing up and trailing your fingernails up over his ribcage as you moved. Your nails lightly scraped over his nipple. He sucked in a sharp breath. You pulled your hand away from him and instead messed with the hem of your shirt.

“What’s the safe word?”

“Wyvern.”

“And the colors?”

“Green, yellow, red.”

“What does green mean?”

“I’m good.”

“Yellow?”

“Give me a minute.”

“And red?”

“Stop.”

“Good boy.”

He shivered at the praise.

You moved around to the foot of the bed, nudging his legs further apart so you could crawl between them. You chose not to tie his ankles to the bed frame. Tying his hands was enough. This was his first time being restrained during sex- or at least with you it was. You wanted to take it easy.

His semi hard cock rested against his lower stomach, waiting for attention.

“What color are you right now?”

He didn’t answer immediately. He turned his head to the side, eyes finding the harness and fake cock resting on a towel on the stand by the bed.

“Pay attention to me.” You patted his chest. “That cock won’t fuck you until I decide. Color?”

“Green.”

You nodded.

“What do you want me to do, Lambert?”

“Fucking blow me.” He breathed out quickly. The patience he had when you were asking him about the color system disappeared completely. You weren’t surprised. Patience wasn’t one of his virtues.

“Is that a demand?” You raised your brows at him. You placed your hand on his knee.

“No.”

“Good.” You grinned. “Then ask me nicely.”

He gritted his teeth together but said nothing. He wasn’t going to surrender that easily, and you knew this. He was going to make you work for it, work to hear the heavenly noises he could make.

You brought your attention down to his cock, your hand moving from his knee to his upper thigh. You braced yourself there, leaning down to lick a stripe from his balls up to the tip of his cock.

He moved, arms flexing as he pulled against the ropes.

You knew very well that he could break the ropes if he really wanted too, but this was part of the game. He was allowing himself to stay restrained so that he could be at your complete mercy.

“Mhm, you taste so good.” You moaned, looking up at him through your lashes.

He was looking down at you, curiously watching your every move.

You wrapped your fingers around the base of his cock, earning a soft grunt from the witcher.

“It’s a shame I can’t have your cock in my mouth.”

“Like fuck you can’t!”

“Well, I can’t reward you for having such a dirty mouth.” You squeezed the base of his thick member.

In response, he bucked his hips upwards and whined.

“Fuck, Y/N!”

You spat on his cock, using it to slick him up.

“You know, you’re so much fun to mess with. You’re so easily wound up.”

“Fuck you.”

You smacked the inside of his thigh again, this time a little harder. He whined, throwing his head back against the pillows.

“Don’t you want to be a good boy for me, Lambert?”

He gave you no answer, fingers curling tightly around the ropes as you began to work your hand up and down his length.

“The quicker you behave for me, love, the sooner you get what you want.”

You moved to lay next to him on your side. With his arms being bound above his head, this gave you the perfect opportunity to kiss him where you wanted.

You hand tightened around his cock, making him grunt, and then you began to move your grip up and down his thick girth.

Your lips found his chest just a few inches away from his nipple. You left a trail of lazy kisses across his scarred chest, lingering on a large, twisted scar just beneath his left pec. As much as you wanted to spend time kissing the marks he hated, you knew that he wouldn’t like it. Now wasn’t the time for that.

Your tongue swiped across his nipple, a proud grin forming on your lips as he shuddered and the bud hardened.

“Oh, fuck.” He cursed softly.

His cock was leaking, weeping, begging for release. The thick vein on the underside of his length pulsed in your hand. You squeezed him a little, making him jerk and push his hips into the air.

“I hope you know I’m not going to give you what you want until you beg.” You whispered, eyes flickering up to his face. You admired the thin layer of sweat that glistened across his forehead and the way his jaw ticked as he gritted his teeth together.

“Then we’re in for one hell of a night.” He spoke through clenched teeth. He wasn’t going to give in easily. That would be boring. The night would be over too soon. He wanted to see just exactly what your little dirty mind had waiting for him, and he was prepared to toy with his boundaries.

You chuckled softly, brushing your thumb over his slit. He hissed, eyes squeezing shut, and he tossed his head back. Your teeth found the side of his neck, biting down carefully on his pulse.

“Oh, fuck!” His hips bucked up once more.

“I know you can hold out until you are ready to come, but I also know that you are extremely sensitive when it comes to having someone mess with your big cock. Isn’t that right?” Your teeth traced the shell of his ear. “Once I pull two or three orgasms from you, you’ll be putty in my hands.”

He said nothing, though you saw the way his eyes darted over to you.

“What do you think?” You kissed his chest, your fist tightening around the mushroomed head of his cock. He jolted, sucking in air sharply through his teeth. “How many times can I make you come before you turn into a needy little whore?”

“Gods damn it.” He cursed, letting his head fall back on to the pillows.

You looked down at his cock, admiring how red it was and how much it was leaking.

You moved your hand up and down his length, making sure to tighten your grip when you got to the head and swipe your thumb over the very tip. Your mouth worked against his neck, alternating between sucking, biting, and kissing.

“Fuck, Y/N! I’m gonna come!”

“Already?” You teased, grinning mischievously against his neck.

You sat up so you could use both of your hands on him, wanting to push him over the edge. With one hand, you gripped the base of his cock. You moved that hand up and down his impressive length while your other hand focused on his tip, squeezing and rubbing in all the right places.

He began to thrust his hips uncontrollably, the muscles in his stomach quivering.

“Fuck! Fuck! Y/N, I want to be inside you! Ah, fuck!”

“I know you do, baby.” You leaned down to lick the tip, humming at the salty taste of him.

All it took was a few more tugs on his cock before he came. You couldn’t help the smirk that came to your lips. Now it wouldn’t be long before he was begging you for more.

You released his softening cock, watching as it rested against his abdomen. You trailed your fingertips up his abdomen, gathering some of his spend on your fingers. Your eyes met his as you put your fingers into your mouth, humming at the taste.

His yellow irises were almost completely absorbed by black pupils.

“How do you feel?” You asked quietly, bringing your hand to his chest.

“Ready to pin your ass to the bed.” He grunted, putting his head back. He focused his eyes on the ceiling. His arms flexed as he pulled at the restraints.

“Oh, poor baby.” You cooed mockingly. “But you’re the one who wanted this.”

“No! I fucking want you to peg me! Not toy with my cock.” He whined.

You knew he was just being bratty, trying to get a reaction out of you. But you wanted to ensure this was what he wanted, that he was okay with everything you were doing.

“You know very well that you can call the safe word and I will stop.” You took your hand away from him. “You know that, right?”

“I know.” He muttered.

“Say it louder.”

“Why? You heard me-,”

“You seem to think that this is your show.” You sat up on your knees. The bed shifted beneath you, catching his attention. “Darling, I’m the one in charge. If I want to toy with your cock for the next three hours, I will. If I want to wait and take your ass later, I will. If I want to sit here and watch you jerk yourself off, I will.”

He was silent, eyes still focused on the ceiling. You placed one hand on his chest to brace yourself as you leaned over him. Your other hand took hold of his chin, turning his head so he looked at you. His eyes found yours.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes.” He answered obediently.

“Good. Now when I ask for your color, you give me an answer. Color?”

“Green.”

You slipped from the bed, which had him watching you carefully. For a second, he was afraid that he’d fucked up. He thought he was being too defiant, too uncooperative. He couldn’t help it, but he wanted to be better. He wanted to do good, to make you happy, to be good. He wanted to hear you praise him– though he would never admit that out loud.

“Where are you going?”

“You don’t get to ask questions until you learn to behave.” You told him, moving around to the foot of the bed. You grabbed the vial of oil that was resting on the corner of the bed.

“You know.... I think it’s hot when you pull the reins like that on me.” He commented quietly. You could tell he was a little nervous.

“I know.” You shot him a little smirk. “Your cock’s getting hard already, and all I’ve done was put you in your place.”

He chuckled from deep within his chest.

You climbed up onto the bed, putting yourself between his thighs on your stomach. Your arms rested up over his thick thighs. Your hand wrapped around his somewhat hard cock, giving him slow and tight pumps every now and then as you situated yourself. Your thumb swiped over the swollen head of his cock, spreading the liquid that dribbled out.

You began to kiss along his inner thigh, working your hand up and down his length. You leaned down to swipe your tongue across the slit. Lambert cursed but did his best to stay still.

Within a matter of minutes, his cock was rock hard and rigid. He rested his head back against the pillows, trying his best to gain control of his erratic breathing.

When you were sure that he had let his guard down, you took his entire length in your mouth, swallowing him down like a treat.

He tried to reach down to thread his fingers in your hair, but upon remembering that his hands were tied up, he gritted his teeth together.

“Oh fuck! Y/N, fuck!”

You pulled off of him with a lewd pop, breathing heavily through your mouth. Your hand that didn’t hold him searched for the vial of oil where you had left it beside his thigh.

“Are you ready to tell me what you want?”

“Damn you.” He grunted out.

You worked your hand up and down his cock before pressing your tongue flat against his cockhead, humming at the salty taste on your tongue.

“I’m going to pull away for a moment, Lambert. Keep your eyes shut.”

He groaned but said nothing.

You released him and searched for the vial of oil you’d placed on the bed. It had rolled underneath his thigh. You popped the cork off and poured a decent amount of oil on to your right hand. After replacing the cork, you tossed the vial on to the bed.

You returned your left hand to his cock, gripping the base. You took only the tip of him into your mouth, humming with your lips encased around his cock. He bucked up into your mouth and you allowed him to do so.

You trailed your right hand down his balls until you found your target. Your finger easily slipped into his. He did his damnedest to push against you, want, needing to feel full of you.

“Fuck! Fuck, Y/N!”

“This is all you’re going to get until you can tell me what you want.”

“You-You know what I want.”

You pulled your finger from him and released his cock. He whined at the loss, pulling at the bonds holding his hands to the posts of the bed.

“You’re getting too worked up too quickly.” You told him. “Take a few breaths. Calm down.”

“Just-Just fucking want you.” He panted, thrusting up into the air in an effort to get some sort of friction.

“You know that’s not what I want to hear.” You kissed the inside of his thigh.

His brow was furrowed, jaw locked as he tilted his head back. His eyes were closed. He was trembling. You weren’t sure if it was from the edging or if it was something else.

“Color, Lambert?”

“Green.”

“You answered that way too quick, my love.” You kissed his thigh once more. “Think about it. Then answer me.”

He took a deep breath, pulling at the ropes a little more.

“I’m green.”

“Is this too much? The edging?”

“No. Just…. M’just impatient.”

“Do you want me to stop the teasing?” You asked him, your tone serious. You were enjoying the show he was putting on, but you cared more about him and his well-being. You knew how hard it was for him to give up control. He didn’t like to not be in control. If this was too much for him, you wanted to stop.

“No. Fuck no. It’s-It’s so fucking good.” He breathed out, shaking his head. “Quit talking so much and just fucking touch me, please.”

“I just know how you can get. I don’t want to push your limits.”

He lifted his head, yellow eyes meeting yours.

“We’ve got a safeword for a reason. If I really can’t take something, I’ll tell you.”

“You won’t be a brat about it?” You cocked a brow.

He chuckled, letting his head fall back onto the pillows as he relaxed.

“Just wait until I get out of these fucking ropes.”

“What are you gonna do? Spank me?” You licked a stripe up the underside of his cock.

“Oh fuck! You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“If I’m not mistaken, I think you liked it when I smacked you earlier.” You brought your hand back down to his ass. You spat on him to add a little more lubricant, not that you needed much more with the oil still on your fingers. “Maybe one of these days I’ll just spank your ass when you get too mouthy.”

You worked one finger in and out of him, enjoying the way he tried to fuck himself on your finger. His cock was leaking as it laid untouched and achingly hard against his lower stomach. You added a second finger, your cunt fluttered with the way he moaned obscenely. You were glad that the two of you waited for Kaer Morhen to be empty to do this.

“Who knew you could be such a vocal little whore for me?” You licked his cock again, then gripped the base with your free hand.

“Fuck! Fuck! I need more.” He moved his head from side to side almost frantically.

“I can give you more.” You moved your hand up and down his cock as you added a third finger, stretching him wide.

“That’s- Fuck! Fucking- That’s not what….” He couldn’t seem to get the words out, his demanding tone dying down to be replaced by a whine.

You released his cock but continued to carefully work your fingers in and out of him. You enjoyed the whines and obscene moans that fell from his lips. His muscles rippled throughout his abdomen as he fought his desire to come just from your fingers.

“Fuck! Y/N! Baby, please!” He panted, head thrown back against the pillows.

“Please what?”

He bit his bottom lip harshly and you feared he’d draw blood. So you stopped moving, keeping your fingers buried in his ass.

“Lambert, don’t do that.” You patted his stomach with your free hand. “Don’t bite your lip. If you need something to bite, I’ll get you a belt or something.”

His mouth fell open and he said nothing, breathing heavily and trying his best to calm down. Your hand rested on his stomach as you looked up at him. You waited patiently for him to catch his breath.

After a couple of minutes, he closed his mouth. He still breathed heavily, but through his nose instead of his mouth.

“Hey.” You tapped his stomach with your index finger.

“What?”

“Look at me, Lambert.”

He didn’t do as you asked immediately. He took his own time. Right as you were about to say his name again, he lifted his head and his yellow eyes met yours.

You smiled at the sight of him.

“What’s your color, pretty boy?”

“Green.”

You nodded, eyes flickering down to his still hard cock.

“Just want that damned thing in my ass.” He half whined as he put his head back down on the pillows. He turned his head to look at the fake cock on the stand.

“I think it’ll be easier for me if we change positions. How do you feel about being on all fours?”

He let out something between a moan and a whine.

“You can pull my hair better that way.”

A wave of heat flooded to your cunt, making you shiver. The thought of hearing him as you pulled on his hair and rammed that cock into him made you crazy.

“If I let you out of those ropes, what are you going to do?” You wrapped your fingers around his cock and tugged. He jolted, hips moving up to meet your hand.

“Ah, fuck!”

“Answer me, Lambert.” You spoke firmly. You pulled your hands from his ass, making him curse.

“Whatever you tell me to.” He bucked his hips, thrusting into your tight fist.

“Look at that pretty cock.” You purred, pulling your hand away from him. He mumbled a few curses at the loss of contact, pulling even more against the ropes. “Who are you hard for?”

“You.” He bucked his hips up in an attempt to get some sort of friction.

“Louder.”

“You! Fuck! It’s-It’s you, baby.”

“Good boy.” You brushed your hand along his thigh. “Are you ready?”

He nodded, eyes squeezed shut tightly.

“Use your words, Lambert.”

“Yes! I’m fucking ready! I’ve been ready for the last- Ah!” He cried out as you smacked his thigh.

“Mind that attitude.” You warned.

You got out of bed and moved around to the beside. You retrieved a knife sitting on the stand and cut the ropes. Lambert immediately grabbed you, not giving you much time to react. His reflexes were far too quick.

The knife in your hand fell to the floor as you were pulled down onto the bed. Lambert’s hands pinned your wrists to the bed as he straddled one of your thighs.

His pupils were blown wide with lust as he gazed down at you.

“Lambert!” You tried to move your hands but he wouldn’t let you.

“Fuck, Y/N. You have no idea how badly I need you.” He breathed out, burying his face in his neck.

You felt something slick and hot against your thigh. You looked down to see he was rutting against your bare thigh, using you for friction.

“What a brave boy you are, Lambert.” You hummed, bringing your eyes up to him. “You know, I’m not one to shy away from spanking your ass raw and leaving you in here hard as a fucking rock.”

It took a minute before the words processed and he came out of his little daze. He pulled away from you immediately. He started to move entirely, but your hand caught his wrist, urging him to stay.

“I’ll let that slide this time.” You told him, bringing your hand up to cup his cheek. His lips parted and a sigh of relief escaped. You knew he was too tightly wound up right now to be able to handle a proper spanking. He was too eager, too excited to be fucked by you.

You leaned in to kiss him. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you on to his parted thighs so that you both were in a sitting position. He let out a loud and obscene moan whenever your clothed slit rubbed against his aching cock. You swallowed the delicious sound down, your hand slipping around his neck to fist the dark hair at his nape. Your teeth carefully scraped across his bottom lip as you grinded against him once more. He rutted up, cursing loudly. The cloth of your panties was soft and seemed to perfectly caress his swollen cock.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m-I won’t last. Please-,” His head fell forward to rest on your shoulder, labored breaths hitting your skin.

“It’s okay, baby.” You cooed, turning your head to kiss the side of his neck. “Take as long as you need to calm down. Then we’ll keep going.”

“No matter how long I try to calm down…. The second you get that thing in my ass, I’m gonna be done for.” His words were muffled against your shoulder.

“What thing?” You asked, brushing your fingers up and down his back.

“You know what thing.” He muttered.

“Say it, Lambert.” You traced the shell of his ear with your teeth, grinning when he shivered.

“That…. That cock.”

“My cock.”

“Your cock. Fuck.” He nearly moaned.

“Good boy.” You kissed his neck. “Whenever you’re ready, let me know.”

“M’ready.” He lifted his head from your shoulder so he could look into your eyes.

You admired the way the golden irises seemed to shimmer in the poor lighting of the room, the way you could just tell how deeply he cared for you, how much you meant to him by the look in his eyes.

Before you had a chance to say anything, he was leaning forward to kiss you. Teeth and tongue clashed together. Your hand came up to hold the side of his neck, your thumb brushing across his pulse. He started to buck up against you, and for a second, you almost lost your composure. The feeling of his hard cock rutting against you felt so good.

“Stop. Lambert, stop.” You panted, pulling away from him. Your fingers tangled in his dark hair at the base of his neck. You pulled a little, drawing a soft moan from his lips. “Get on your stomach.”

You released him and climbed off of his lap, then off of the bed.

You made your way around the bed, moving to retrieve the fake cock on the nightstand. Your eyes caught sight of Lambert. He was on his knees but watching you. He fisted the base of his weeping cock, thighs trembling just slightly.

“Thought I gave you orders.” You hummer, picking up the black belt that held the cock.

“Thought you wanted me on my hands and knees.”

You cocked a brow.

“I thought you were done with that attitude.”

You could see him smirk just a little as he got down on the bed on his stomach. He winced a little as his swollen, sensitive cock made contact with the linens. He turned his head to the side to watch you put the harness on.

“You’re taller than me. Therefore, doggy style won’t work. At least not right now.” You shimmied out of the panties you wore, letting them fall to the floor at your feet. Then you stepped into the harness, shimmying a little more than needed, making your breasts sway with the fake cock. “Maybe we can try another time to work out the kinks in that position.”

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, picking up the bottle of oil. You poured a hefty amount on to your palm and began to work the liquid up and down the fake cock.

“Oh, fuck.” Lambert cursed, hips jutting forward causing him to rut against the bed.

“How do I look?” You asked, turning to the side to pose for him. This gave him the perfect view of the cock, long and slender.

“Fucking perfect.” His fingers curled into the linens, knuckles turning white from the tightness of his grip. “Gods, you look so fucking perfect.”

You smiled a little before moving around to the foot of the bed. Lambert tried to follow you with his gaze but you stopped him, shaking your head softly.

“Don’t worry about looking at me, baby.” You climbed up onto the bed. “Just make sure you’re comfortable.”

“Feel better if I could see you.”

You almost didn’t hear his mumbled words muffled by the bed his head was against. You paused for a moment, stomach beginning to twist into knots.

“If you don’t trust me, Lambert, then we can’t do this.” You whispered, doing your best to mask that you were upset.

He turned over on to his side, propping himself up on one elbow.

“That’s not it.” He shook his head. “I-I like being able to see you. To see your face…. Your eyes…”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

“Sweet boy.” You leaned down to kiss him, supporting yourself with one hand on the bed. The fake cock rubbed against Lambert’s thigh, making him moan into your mouth.

“Fuck me, please.” He mumbled against your lips. His hand came up to tangle in your hair. “Need you to fuck me, Y/N. Please.”

You opened your eyes and pulled away just a little to meet his gaze.

“Then lay down like a good boy. And spread your ass for me.”

Without putting up a fight, he returned to laying on his stomach and reached back with both hands to grab hold of either of his cheeks.

You poured plenty of oil onto him, then reached down to spread the lubricant around the tight ring of muscles. He shuddered, inhaling sharply.

“You’ve got to relax, Lambert.” You reminded him, easily slipping two fingers in. The cock you wore was a decent size. It didn’t compare to Lambert’s own cock in girth, but the length was similar.

You felt him exhale and the tension he held in his muscles slowly disappeared.

You straddled his thighs, your knees resting on the bed on the outside of his thighs. His hands fisted the linens, his head turned to the side to watch you out of his peripherals.

You pulled his ass cheeks apart, giving them a loving squeeze.

“You look so pretty for me, baby.” You purred, removing one hand from his cheek to line the cock up with his ass. You carefully pushed the tip in, listening for any signs of pain from the witcher. He whimpered and moaned softly, lifting his head and arching his back so that he was pushing his ass up towards you.

“Look at you. Taking my cock like a good boy.” Your hands trailed up to his hips as you sunk further and further into him. The noises he made went straight to your core and it took everything you had not to fuck him senseless right there.

You began a steady rhythm, rocking back and forth on his thighs. One of your hands found a comfortable position on the small of his back while the other brushed along his side.

As you moved in and out of him, his words became less and less coherent. Only whines and moans came from his parted lips.

“How does that feel, baby?” Your fingers curled into his hips, nails digging in just slightly. He didn’t answer you. “Lambert?”

“Ah! Ah, fuck! Yes! Yes! So fucking good!”

You leaned forward, shifting the angle a little so the cock hit him deeper as you reached up to turn his head to the side. Propped up on his elbows, he was able to turn his head back and meet your lips in a kiss, feral and hungry.

For a moment, you stilled inside of him, letting the thick base of the cock keep him stretched.

He had to break the kiss for a moment, breathing heavily against your lips.

“My sweet boy.” You cooed, leaning up to kiss his nose. “Taking my fat cock so good.”

He kissed you a few more times, though they were sloppy and your teeth clashed and noses bumped. But you didn’t mind. It felt perfect.

Lambert let his head fall back to the bed as he let out a whine. You began to rock your hips, kissing the back of his shoulder as you pushed the cock in and out of his ass. His hands reached back to hold your knees. When he touched you, you paused for a moment, thinking that maybe he was trying to stop you. But then you noticed how he was slipping his hand around the back of your knee and trying to pull you closer to him.

“Ah, fuck, bug!” Lambert squeezed your knee almost to the point where you thought that he would leave bruises. “Bug. I-I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.” You trailed your fingers down his spine.

As you picked up the pace, his moans and whines began to get louder and louder. His hand that didn’t have a grip on your knee was fisting the linens tightly, nearly ripping a hole in the bedding.

“No!” He gasped suddenly, lifting his head.

You immediately pulled out, fearing you were hurting him. He lifted his hips from the bed, thighs trembling.

“Lambert? What’s wrong?” Your hand found the small of his back. You leaned over him

“Need to-Ah! Fuck! Need to see your face! Fuck!” He pressed his forehead into the bed, eyes squeezing shut tightly. “Need to see you when I come!”

You almost breathed a sigh of relief.

“Color?” You asked.

“Green. Fucking green.” He panted.

You took a few moments to rub his back, eyes trailing across his back, finding dozens and dozens of scars.

“Turn over on your back.”

Without hesitation, he did as you told. He tucked a few pillows behind his head so he could have a good view of you.

Your eyes met his and you swore you could see him melt right there.

“You’ve been such a good boy for me since I’ve been fucking you with my cock.” You told him, turning your attention to his cock. It was leaking a steady stream of precum as it rested against his abdomen. The swollen head was nearly purple.

His legs were spread wide and you rested comfortably between them. You pushed the head of the cock into him, then looked up at Lambert. Golden eyes watched you, hazy with desire and need. His lips were parted just slightly.

“That feel good?” You asked, tilting your head to the side a little.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?” You repeated, furrowing your brows together in fake confusion. “Please.” He whispered, voice hoarse.

“Louder.”

“Please.”

“Louder.”

“Please!”

You pushed the cock into him and he let out something crossed between a moan and a shout.

You braced yourself on the tops of his thighs, pulling him in to meet your thrusts. He took hold of his own cock and began to move his hand up and down, working himself towards his climax.

“Oh, fuck, fuck. You feel so-Fuck! So fucking good.” He moaned.

“Who do you belong to?” You rocked into him, grinning pridefully just a little.

“You.”

“Good boy.”

With those praises, Lambert began to fall apart beneath you. He moaned and whined and writhed, sloppily working his hand over his cock.

Wordlessly, you nudged his hand out of the way so you could wrap your fingers around his girth.

You knew he was there. His breathing was more labored and less controlled. He couldn’t mutter out any curses. He could barely keep his eyes open. They kept rolling back into his head. He was doing his best to fight his orgasm. He didn’t want to come just yet.

You braced yourself with one hand on the bed beside him. Still keeping your thrusts up, you leaned down to kiss his chest. He was so much bigger and taller than you, that you could only reach his chest. But you’d make it work.

You swiped your thumb across the slit in his cockhead, causing him to buck his hips and further fuck himself on the cock. Your lips pressed kisses across his chest, enjoying the feeling of his dark, scratchy chest hair against you.

His hand came up to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. He pulled your head from his chest and guided you to his lips. He made it work, leaning up as much as he could so he could feel your lips against his own.

Just as you made contact with him, you gave his cock a generous squeeze. He sucked in a sharp breath.

“Come for me, sweet boy.” You murmured, looking at him and the way his face seemed to twist up from the pleasure. He let out an animalistic growl and threw his head back.

You continued to thrust into him, though you weren’t as rough as you were earlier. You worked his cock eagerly though, needing to see his chest painted with his seed.

“Such a good boy. My good boy.” You kissed, bit, and sucked marks across his torso.

“I’m- Ah! Fuck! I’m coming!” He shouted.

His body tensed for a moment as you continued to jerk his cock. Then ropes of white shot from his cock, covering his chest and stomach.

You continued to push the cock in and out of him throughout his orgasm, releasing his cock only when he showed signs of overstimulation.

You stayed there for a few moments, kissing his chest more gently, and rubbing his side as he came down.

“Oh, fuck.” He breathed out, a hand coming up to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

“Gods, you look so handsome.” You placed a final kiss over his heart before sitting back on your knees. Carefully, you pulled the cock from him. He whined at the emptiness. “Color?”

“Green. M’tired, but green.” He said, eyes flickering down to take in the mess he had made on himself.

“Let me take this off and we’ll go get a bath.”

“Fuck, bug. I don’t know if I can do a bath.” He shook his head.

“Okay. We don’t have to tonight, but I will get a washcloth and clean you up.” You promised him with a little smile before slipping out of bed.

Taglist: @pressedinthepages @MishaFaye @whitewolfandthefox @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @wolfyland07 @belalugosisdead @persephonehemingway @romancebibliophilia @keira-hulmaster @greatestauthorofmygeneration @shadow-hunters-lover @tedi-fach-las @thecomfortofoldstorries @raspberrydreamclouds @disasteren @weathervanes-my-oneandlonely @onlyhenrys @criminaly-supernatural @magpie343 @permanently-exhausted-witcher @hina-chans-stuff @the-space-between-heartbeats @havenoffandoms @carriebee1 @ger-bearofrivia @naominami @writingawaymylife @reaganjenelle @badassspaceprincess @scarlettwitcher @just-a-sad-donut @summersong69 @an--actual--human--disaster @rubyqueen819 @titaniafire @omgkatinka @mackallackattack @hell1129-blog @vonxcon @mazakeen @thereagles @awkward-turtles-world @menalliha @maan24 @thefirelordm @krenee1drful @nympha-door-a @unadulteratedtreecrusade @Aquarius-pisces-rose @mentallyscreamingsincebirth @fl0ating @Awesomeassassin10 @sometimesiwrite @you-fxcking-wish-bish

#lambert x reader #sub!lambert x reader #sub!lambert #lambert #the witcher #lambert witcher #queenxxxsupreme

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meganshinsou-tm · 4 years

Note

I have an insane thirst for smut with CI Kirishima in the back of his truck🥵

♚Crimson|Ink [Backseat Loving] Drabble

♚ pairing: Crimson|Ink Kiri x Reader

♚ author comments: Oh I literally gasped - oh my god I can’t believe I never thought of this!!! thank you! 😭 okay here we go!

♚ cw/tw: unprotected sex, backseat sex, trickster kiri, nipple/tit play, dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics, probably hints of size kink, most def kiri got a kink for you wearing his clothes

☛ Obviously happens during a shop run! Deku was supposed to go with you but Kiri had other plans in mind and nearly knocked the poor dude over in his excitement to volunteer for him.

☛ “Oh Deku actually can’t go, he’s got some things to do here so I’ll just go with you little one.”

☛Deku has a confused look on his face and goes to protest but Kiri very obviously elbows him in the ribs and nearly makes Deku topple over from the power behind it. So Kiri forgets his own strength sometimes, sue him.

☛ The message comes across clearly to Deku then and he just scratches the back of his neck and chuckles through the pain. “I - I do actually, so yeah Ei should go with you.”

☛You really don’t care who goes you just know you need to go now because sooner or later you’re going to be very hungry and shop runs are always your favorite cause it means going out for lunch. And the honorary shopping buddy that tags along always pays, thems just the rules.

☛Half an hour later you and Kiri have made two stops and your stomach starts to growl. Kirishima laughs and looks over at you apparently dying of starvation in the passenger seat. He suggests trying out a new place that just opened and you are all game for it. You don’t care, food is food and you want it now!

☛On the way though, Kiri pulls over in the middle of nowhere. He claims that the tire light went off and he needs to get out real quick to check it. You nod and go back to playing on your phone, more than happy to stay inside the warm truck.

☛A few minutes later he’s back but ends up crawling into the backseat. You turn in the front passenger seat to watch as he seems to search around the back for something.

☛“What are you looking for Ei?”

- Kiri pouts a little before looking at you and shrugs. “I usually keep a small gauge back her for checking the tire pressure but I can’t find it. It may have been kicked under your seat actually, do you mind reaching back here and looking. You’re much smaller than me, I can barely move around much as it is back it.”

☛Without question you unbuckle your seat belt and go to do as asked of you. But the moment your top half is over the console and you go to start searching, Kirishima grabs your wrist and halts you.

☛You grunt and try to pry yourself free but Kiri only chuckles and is grinning at you dangerously. Eyes narrow at him and you ask what is going on and he only looks away from you and back towards the front. You follow and grit your teeth when you realize that the dashboard is free of any maintenance lights.

☛“Eijirou Kirishima, what the fuck!”

☛ The entire thing was a rouse that Kirishima very quickly came up with in order to get you right where he wanted you. Which was in the backseat of his truck and straddling his lap. It doesn’t take much effort for Kirishima to make it happen which goes over almost without incident. In the midst of him hauling you into his lap and you not being prepared for it, you do manage to knock heads together but thankfully it isn’t with much force.

☛ You whine his name, hands pounding at his chest in annoyance and a pout on your lips. “Ei I’m hungry!”

☛“I know baby, I know,” he coo’s very sweetly with the added bonus of his very large hands grabbing your hips in order to pull you closer to him. “Just give me a couple minutes with you, be a good girl for me and I’ll take you anywhere you wanna eat.”

☛“That much is a fucking given, but why,” you questioned breathlessly once Kirishima’s mouth is upon your neck and kissing softly but biting roughly. “What’s gotten into you?”

☛Kirishima shakes his head in the crook of your neck as his hands dip under the giant sweater you’re wearing - his sweater. The thing swallows you and hangs to your thighs. The arms of it are so long it gives you sweater paws and the neck of it just barely exposes your beautiful throat that will soon be covered in his marks.

☛He never pegged himself for having this sort of fetish, if you can even call it that, over you wearing his clothes. But the way you look, the way you look even smaller and sweeter in them, had been driving him crazy since you first put the damn thing on that morning at home. Kirishima thought he could chill out about it, thought it was just some weird fascination he had over it or extreme case of adoration but the longer the day went on and the more he focused on how the sweater looked on you. the more it drove him mad and crazy horny.

☛All Kiri wanted to do was to fuck you in nothing but this sweater - was that too much to ask?

☛“I’ve just been dying to get you alone all day and I found a window so I went with it,” he replied with a growl as his hands cupped and squeezed your breasts under the sweater. You let out a needy moan and let your head hang to the side in order to allow more access for Kiri.

☛“You’re just so fucking adorable wearing this. So small and soft, sweet and so so precious. I don’t know why but seeing you in my sweater and having you like this, it’s fucking me up little one and I just need to get this out of my system is all. Is that okay with you baby?”

☛“Yes sir,” is all you manage and Kirishima is on you more than he already is.

☛ You gasp when sharp teeth bite hard at your neck and hardened hands are shredding the bra that’s keeping Kirishima from having more fun with your breasts. The little display of strength doesn’t fall to make you wet between the legs and rut against the growing erection underneath you.

☛The sweater gets pushed up and out of the way so that Kirishima can take one of your nipples into his mouth while his fingers tease at the other. Both hands knead at the thick warm flesh and very quickly you’re panting and rolling your hips like crazy against him.

☛You whine and pout about how your jeans are pissing you off but Kiri doesn’t stop what he’s doing. Instead he alternates his mouth back and forth, sucking and biting at your nipples until they’re overly sensitive and you’re almost recoiling from his touch to them. It’s only then that Kiri stops and goes about removing your jeans in the small space.

☛Once they’re off, he undoes his own and pushing them down until they rest at his feet on the floor. His cock is so hard it almost hurts and you lick your lips at the sight of pre-cum beading at the head of it.

☛Kirishima would love more than anything to have you between his knees and trying your hardest to take him down your throat but that can come another time. Right now he has one goal and its to have you ride him while wearing his sweater.

☛You don’t waste anymore time with foreplay, you’re wet enough from his torture on your breasts that there’s no need for spit. And just as he did with your bra, Kirishima takes it upon himself to rip your panties to shred too.

☛“You ass, I need panties especially with the amount of cum that monster likes to produce!”

☛Kirishima groans and kisses you roughly, lifting your hips with ease before setting them back down slowly and lowering you onto his cock. You moan into his mouth and pull away to look at him with a instant fucked out expression. It tends to happen when your boyfriend has a cock with the thickness of a god damn soda can that is also pierced in multiple places.

☛“You know I kind of like the thought of you walking back into the shop with my cum leaking out of you and staining those jeans,” Kiri groans as he starts to buck his hips up, sinking his cock deeper inside of you. “But don’t worry that cute little face, just keep my sweater on and it’ll hide that. It’ll be our secret, okay little one?”

#crimson ink #crimson ink hc #crimson ink asks #kirishima eijirou x reader #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #Smut #18+ only #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #drabble #tattoo shop au #hitmen au

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dementedgnomicwizard · 5 years

Text

“I spent fifteen hundred bucks on a state-of-the-art sound system so that Myra wouldn’t miss a single golden note on her Barry Manilow records and her “Supremes Greatest Hits,” he thought, and then felt a flush of guilt. That wasn’t fair, and he damn well knew it. Myra would have been just as happy with her old scratchy records as she was with the new 45-rpm sized laser discs, just as she would have been happy to keep on living in the little four-room house in Queens until they were both old and gray... He had bought the luxury sound system... because he had been able to, and because they were ways of appeasing the... always implacable voice of his mother; they were ways of saying: I made it, Ma! Look at all this! I made it! Now will you please for Christ’s sake shut up awhile?”

where sonia made a point to constantly doubt and belittle eddie to keep the power dynamics shifted in her favor and keep him feeling indebted to her/like he had to do exactly the right thing in order to keep her happy, myra... simply Does Not do that. she’s literally just happy to be with eddie, and he is (as illustrated by this quote) ABSOLUTELY aware of that difference. also this quote highlights the fact that myra is financially dependent on eddie—so in terms of the power dynamics at play, eddie has the upper hand.

“Once, shortly before actually proposing marriage, he had taken a picture of Myra... and had put it next to one of his mother... He had made the comparison, he supposed, in a last-ditch effort to stop himself from committing psychological incest. He looked from Mother to Myra and back again to Mother.

They could have been sisters. The resemblance was that close.

Eddie looked at the two nearly identical pictures and promised himself he would not do this crazy thing... He would break it off with Myra. He would let her down gently because she was really very sweet and had had even less experience with men than he’d had with women.

...But in the end he had married Myra anyway. In the end, the old ways and the old habits had simply been too strong.”

eddie is aware that he is trying to cling to and repeat his cycle of abuse. he’s aware that his marriage to myra is less about her and more about sonia’s metaphorical ghost hanging over him, AND he knows that myra 1) is oblivious to this and 2) has very little dating experience, which makes her vulnerable (hence the need to treat her gently). he marries her anyway. that’s not fair to myra and he knows it, it’s not healthy for him and he knows it. myra doesn’t! myra doesn’t know any of this! myra is just trying to be a good wife!

“Tears had been more than a defense for his mother; they had been a weapon. Myra had rarely used her own tears so cynically... but, cynically or not, he realized she was trying to use them that way now...”

once again eddie acknowledges a key difference between sonia and myra, which is that while sonia often used her emotions/distress to manipulate eddie, myra’s expressions of emotion are (for the most part, just like everyone else in the world) genuine.

a lot of people like to point to this quote:

“The thought of simply bundling him into the closet and then standing with her back against the door until this madness had passed crossed her mind, but she was unable to bring herself to do it, although she certainly could have...”

as “proof” that myra is abusive (because having and then quickly dismissing an unpleasant thought is a moral failing, as we all know, lmfao) but that reading requires one to conveniently ignore this bit:

““I hate it when you shout at me, Eddie,” she whispered.

“Myra, I hate it when I have to,” he said, and she winced. There you go, Eddie—you hurt her again. Why don’t you just punch her around the room a few times? That would probably be kinder. And quicker.”

hmm!! seems like they both had and dismissed unpleasant thoughts about how to deal with each other/resolve the conflict at hand! it’s almost as if this was an intentional move on king’s part to help the reader understand that while neither of them genuinely want to hurt the other, the relationship is mutually unhealthy! and its very existence is hurting both of them!

also, why does no one talk about what eddie says to her here??? myra is distressed—UNDERSTANDABLY SO—because her partner is behaving erratically and literally packing and leaving without telling her where he’s going, why, or how long he’s going to be gone. that is not how you behave in a relationship and myra is well within her rights to be frightened, confused, and upset. when she voices this (again, very reasonable!) concern, he shouts at her; when she tells him that she doesn’t like when he shouts at her, he tells her that she deserves to be shouted at. that is not a healthy or okay way to talk to a partner.

“Was that what he meant? That he had finally decided it was all right to love her? That it was all right even though she looked like his mother when his mother had been younger and even though she ate brownies in bed while watching Hardcastle and McCormick or Falcon Crest and the crumbs always got on his side and even though she wasn’t all that bright and even though she understood and condoned his remedies in the medicine cabinet because she kept her own in the refrigerator?”

this is nearly the only moment in the entirety of “Eddie Kaspbrak Takes His Medicine” where we get to see eddie’s thought process about myra when he’s not thinking through the lens of how his mother behaved. and it about sums it up. she looks like his mother, and she “understood and condoned his remedies in the medicine cabinet”—they weren’t her idea. they were a part of eddie’s life before she entered it. myra is a woman whose husband has told her that he is ill, and in response she encourages him to take his medication. that’s it.

in addition, this passage implies (not for the first time either!) that just as myra “understands and condones” eddie’s medication, he “understands and condones” her over-eating and weight gain ("She had only been big when Eddie married her... but he sometimes thought his subconscious had seen the potential for hugeness in her...”)

there is no villain here. there are two people trapped in a mutually unhealthy relationship. both of them are deserving of sympathy and love. stop being blinded by your hatred of fat women.

#cw parental abuse mention #myra #this is a really disorganized ramble bc im doing this quickly inbetween my readings for class #but im like. mad. im mad about this for real. people on this website are so dumb.

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Note

Oooooh I am very much looking forward to seeing this B and Demetri and Connor dynamic!

“Hey Manning, I almost thought you wouldn’t show… Oh you brought the dog.”

An eye roll but the handler kept his smile in place.

“He still looks like a handful, he’d eat this little one alive.” A gentle tug and Demetri moved obediently to stand in front of the handler with his head still bowed.

Connor turned, keeping one arm tightly around B.

"Yeah, he goes everywhere I go, now. You think I want to be in that hotel bed by myself? Show me the stray."

When Demetri moved out in front, Connor blinked with no particular memory sparking. He'd seen a lot of pets come through before he quit. "Oh, okay. This is him? He's pretty."

When B saw who was waiting from them he couldn't have been happier to be there. "Demetri!" He gasped, wiggling out of Connor's tight grip on him to rush forward and slam his hands on the desk. His eyes tracked the hands on his dear friends' back and he growled and curled his top lip to bare his silver canines. "Let 'im go... Right now."

The handler recoiled and unconsciously yanked Demetri back with him, startling the blond into looking up.

There was a vague recognition of the name that felt almost like his own but drifted too far out of reach to grasp. He stayed pressed to the handler for a long moment before a faint smile cracked through his panicked expression.

He could hardly believe his luck of who had come to save him.

He could never forget B’s face, the only kind face he had known for years and had been grieving the loss of for too long.

After a moment of stunned but elated staring he squirmed away from the handler, no longer needing the man’s reassurance.

Demetri skirted round the desk and launched himself at B with all the strength he could muster, clinging on to the familiar source of comfort without concern for the other two men watching the display. He hissed through his teeth when he bumped the sliced up brand against B but still refused to let go. He was terrified if he let go it wouldn’t be real anymore. He would still be on the street lost and afraid.

Connor stared blankly at B as he ran forward.

He barely had time to open his mouth to order him to drop the aggression before the hot little blond had jumped forwards too, and the two pets were holding each other. "What the fuck...?" He blinked rapidly, then looked at the other handler and gave a shrug.

"Hey." He gave a quick, low whistle to get B's attention. "You know 'im, baby?"

B couldn't believe it, sure that he was dreaming and he'd be woken up by a soft touch on his shoulder and be back in the truck again. "I... How?"

His words stuck in his throat, his chest swelling with light as he caught the boy flinging himself onto him. He held him tightly, rocking him from side to side like he used to do and tucking Demetri's head under his chin.

At the sound of the whistle B looked up, eyes glossy and a smile splitting across his face. "Yes! Yes, sir! This... This is Demetri... He was... He was Mister Rossi's pet..." He said, feeling the tension in the other and the pained hiss.

"W-Wait... You're hurt..." He murmured, gently pulling him back to look at Demetri's chest. "Oh..." He noticed the blood staining through his shirt. "Oh ... isn't that... Hey... Dem-... Pretty? You alrigh', lad?"

The handler behind the desk couldn’t keep his jaw from dropping, everyone had heard rumours that Rossi’s pet had been run through the system but of course his links to WRU were very hushed up.

“Fuck.. that’s Rossi’s pet? Shit, we probably need to let someone know, who was his primary? They’ll know how to reach him.”

Demetri let all of the distress from the moment Rossi had dropped him on the street drain out of his body. B was safe, B could protect him. He glanced at the man who had whistled, the dark hair and eyes were disturbingly similar to Rossi but this one seemed less of a threat.

There wasn’t a response until B used the correct name and Demetri glanced down at the spotting on the pale grey shirt, staining the fabric. He tugged the neckline down and exposed the damaged brand, it was bleeding a little from slamming into B with such eagerness but was obviously deliberately done. “It’s... it’s fine... I was good, I didn’t move I swear.”

"Oh, Jesus fuck, not those assholes," Connor muttered, feeling a drop in his stomach. B was so excited, he'd be heartbroken when Rossi showed back up to take his pet back-

Then Demetri pulled back enough to pull down the neckline of his shirt and Connor's eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. He held up a hand. "Gonna guess you don't need to call Rossi," He said to the other handler, moving closer to take a better look, leaning over with one hand on B's back, casually possessive. "Look at that. That's not amateur work and it wasn't done mad. Bet you fifty bucks Rossi did that himself."

B blinked, struck by the horror of what had happened to his friend. And fury at Rossi. He had never been good to him unless it had served him a purpose. And he used him and hurt him.

Demetri had been changed by this place as much as he was. Because of him.

"It was him..." B said lowly, leaning instinctively into the touch on his back and looking at Connor. "He ... He hurt him. He can't go back to him, sir." B's voice cracked slightly, trembling slightly as he carefully angled Demetri so he could hold him without pushing into the wound. "Please... Connor. He needs to come home with us."

Demetri laid his head on B’s shoulder, offering up a smile to the man who was now close to them. If B trusted him then this man, whose face Demetri was still trying to place, he would have blind allegiance without question from Demetri.

The handler had shifted around the desk to get a better look, a small piece of scarring was untouched, the only suggestion there had been a brand under all the slices. “Shit, they’re always so much harder to sell on with this kind of damage. I’ll have to see if anyone has space for a refurb this week before he gets a fucking infection..”

Even with the dog cradling the blond so possessively, the handler never expected that Connor would want to take on more damaged goods.

Connor had a reputation for how he dealt with pets, he couldn’t possibly want this emotionally fragile little wisp of a pet.

Demetri lifted his hand and gently traced over B’s chest, the firm planes of muscle just as he remembered them. Capable of so much damage while only ever trying to protect him. His voice was a low wistful murmur. “I missed you B... I wanted you to come home.”

Connor frowned, watching the two pets together. B was always gentle as a lamb with other pets, whether it was Socks or when he was in the Facility training. And B so rarely asked for a single thing for himself - he just took what Connor gave him with gratitude and adoration.

But he was asking for this.

Connor moved forward, taking Demetri's chin in his thumb and fingers to tilt it up and look at him, at his eyes.

"Baby," He said to B while looking Demetri over, "Baby, I am not a halfway house for stray pets. I can't just bring home every pretty thing that catches your eye..."

B kept his arms tightly wrapped around Demetri, allowing him to touch his chest. His own brand still stung from time to time. But Connor had transformed it. And he hadn't cast him aside when he did.

"Missed you too... I missed you so much... I'm sorry..." He rumbled, burying his face into Demetri's hair. He swallowed the lump in his throat, loosening his grip slightly to allow his owner to look over Demetri.

He crushed down the urge to smack Connor's hands off him. Connor was kind. Connor wouldn't hurt him.

"He's... He's not just Pretty..." B murmured. "He's Demetri... He's my ... my friend... I... I love him very much, sir. He needs to be with us... He can be good for you too. He's very good."

Demetri tipped his head with the slightest pressure from Connor, turning his face until he met the man’s dark eyes. There was no hiding his enjoyment at even the barest of contact, the gentleness was what he craved.

The handler scoffed from a few feet away, he was still wary of the dog. He had heard about the state of the rookies after a tangle with it and now it had something to guard. But Manning had a point, surely here wasn’t going to let his dog tell him what to do.

“You’re not running a charity Manning, don’t want people to talk. The boy’s got Romantic training, the clinic can clean up the wounds and he’ll be on his knees for some cheapskate client in a week or two. He is very pretty..”

Demetri couldn’t hide the fear that shone in his eyes, he was supposed to be for Rossi. He should go back to Rossi... but they were talking like Rossi didn’t want him... like he wasn’t good enough.

He prayed he could stay with B, not daring to want it yet, he could at least understand Connor was in control. Teeth caught his lower lip, his head tipped to the most attractive angle as he all but batted his eyelashes up at Connor. Classic Romantic look, perfected to be irresistible, combined with the low needy whine, most people caved and gave him some attention at that point.

Connor bristled a little at B pushing him in front of the other handler. While technically he wasn't one anymore, he still sure as fuck didn't like the idea of someone looking down on him for being pet-whipped.

Some owners got that way, spoiling the shit out of their pets and treating them like real people, and Connor had mocked plenty of those in his time. He definitely didn't want to invite the same mockery from the other handler.

"Baby, I think I decide what we need in my house, yeah?" His voice was still mostly gentle, but there was an edge of irritation, a warning there. He'd never really hurt B beyond the bedroom - and they did plenty of that, which was perfect and B did so well - but a couple of days barred from petting Socks or the barn cats usually did the trick for discipline.

He watched Demetri tilt his head just the right way, blinking at him. "Yeah, he was definitely one of ours. Rossi's pet..." His voice trailed, off, turning Demetri's head to the side, catching faint scarring along his jaw. "Wait, didn't I fuck you once?"

B swallowed thickly, chest tightening at the edge to Connor's voice. He bowed his head hastily. "Yessir... M'sorry, sir... I'm... I just... I thought we could..." He mumbled, heat spreading across his cheeks.

He had forgotten his place. He wasn't allowed to want things. That wasn't his place at all.

He took a small step back, keeping his head lowered reverently.

Demetri still felt the little flutter of panic when people caught sight of the scars. If you aren’t Pretty what’s the point in keeping you around?

At least Connor didn’t seem put off by them, in fact his words reached into the blond’s scrambled brain and plucked out a memory with shocking clarity. He grinned, a warm natural expression rather than one designed to entice. “Asshole number two...”

Flickers of shared food, kneeling for the man, the heated mat and a few hours reprieve danced through his mind, they didn’t linger but he knew enough to know this was one of the nice ones. His attention turned back to B who was visibly distressed.

Without hesitation Demetri was nuzzling his cheek and sliding his hands under B’s shirt. His usual conflict resolution skills kicked in without a second thought, he needed to make B happy, he needed to be good.

“Shit, are you taking him or not? I would really rather avoid the paperwork and not have him fuck your dog in the lobby.” The handler just needed to wash his hands of this. Rossi was trouble and he needed to avoid that if he wanted to get taken off of desk duty.

Connor took a deep breath, watching the embarrassment and sadness on his dog's face, and then audibly groaned, putting a hand up over his face. Jesus, if B turned on the fucking waterworks he'd be totally lost, right in front of the other handler.

"Yeah, fuck. Yeah. Damn it. Baby, you know I hate when you-... fuck."

Connor sighed and waved his hand at the handler. "Yeah, fine, okay. Just... just whatever means we don't have to call that piece of shit two-bit mob boss."

He took Demetri by one arm, pulling him closer to himself and slightly away from B.

"This is not because you made your sad face at me, sweetness. It is not. Now come on, we're going outside to figure this shit out a little bit and get you two out of the lobby before someone calls the cops for public indecency." He moved towards the door, pulling Demetri with him, trusting B to fall in as well without even a glance back.

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emybain · 5 years

Text

Renegades Titanic AU Part 8

happy one week away from supernova! take this flaming trash! I also really need to add links to each part on like the last five parts including this one!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Part 8: Flying

It didn’t take Adrian very long to find Nova, surprisingly. He thought he was going to have to ask around, which was awkward enough, seeing as he was dressed very differently than the guests on this level of the ship and stuck out like a sore thumb. But no, soon after he hopped over the locked gate that separated first from third class, he spotted her. She was outside as well, on the third class promenade, a lit cigarette in hand that she didn’t raise to her lips once in the few minutes he stood watching her. Her back was against the railing, legs crossed at the ankles. Few people were on this part of the ship, for the deck was narrow and shaded from the sun due to part of the first class deck hanging over it. It was chilly in the shade, compared to being in the warm sun, it being only early March in the Northern hemisphere.

He approached her slowly, sensing that she wasn’t in the best of moods. Odd, considering she had seemed like she had fun the evening before. But then again, her attitude changed towards the end of the night, and she had left. Adrian blamed himself, for he had tried to kiss her and didn’t even ask if it was okay. Skies, he was an idiot.

“Nova?” Her head jolted up at being addressed, eyes widening when they landed on him. Her surprise vanished as quickly as it came, turning into a schooled expression. Adrian took it as a cue to step closer.

“I can’t see you,” she coolly responded, pushing her body upright and tossing the cigarette over her shoulder into the water. She moved toward him, and his heart sped up. Then she brushed past him.

“Wait!” Adrian pivoted around and wrapped his hand around her elbow, stopping her right in front of the wall of the ship. She froze instantly, and he cursed under his breath. He let go, but his feet remained planted. “I need to talk to you. About last night, I-”

“It’s fine, Adrian.” Nova shrugged, as if she was unbothered, but the way she leaned back against the wall, away from him, suggested otherwise. “Already forgotten. Now, if you’ll excuse me-” she attempted to push past him again, but he placed his hand on her arm, not grabbing it this time. A discoloring on her cheekbone caught the light, drawing his attention. He frowned. It was a bruise, still an angry red, but beginning to purple.

“What happened to your face?” he implored, any kindness left in his voice quickly vanishing. His mind raced to conclusions, none of them positive. Someone hit her, either a stranger, or someone she knew. And it wasn’t an accident.

Her hand reached up to cover the marking, eyes dropping to the ground. “I ran into my bedpost this morning. Silly of me. It must’ve been the alcohol.” The lie was almost believable. Almost. But in the short time he had gotten to know her, Adrian knew Nova wasn’t the clumsy type, even if there was alcohol in her system.

“I don’t believe that.” He shook his head. “Who did it?”

Nova glared up at him. “My business is not yours, Adrian. It was an accident. Now please, kindly move your ass so I can go.” He refused to budge, instead taking in a deep breath.

“Nova.” He paused, gathering his words. “You’re no picnic, alright? You’re stubborn and impulsive-”

“And you’re a spoiled little brat who thinks he’s entitled to whatever he wants, now move!” she interrupted.

“But under that defensive façade,” he continued, unfazed, “you’re the most amazingly, astounding, wonderful woman-”

“Got any more adjectives, Romeo?” Nova huffed, crossing her arms. Her cheeks still reddened.

“-that I’ve ever met.”

“Adrian, I-” She tried a different maneuver this time, turning her body and trying to squeeze through, but Adrian only followed her. She groaned softly and fell back against the wall, giving up.

“Please, just let me try and get this out. I...you’re ama-” Adrian stopped to inhale again. This was harder than he had thought. She wasn’t going to listen if he just showered her with compliments. It didn’t surprise him. “Listen, Nova-”

“No, you listen, Everhart!” Nova raised her voice, tilting her chin up. “I’m not an idiot, okay? I know how the world works.” She searched his eyes. “I have ten bucks in my pocket and nothing to offer you, and-”

“I know that.” Adrian ran a hand through his short hair, frustrated. “I understand. I’m too involved now, though.” He dared to inch closer to her. “You jump, I jump, remember?” He eyed her bruise, eyed the way her hands fiddled with one another nervously. “I won’t let myself just turn away without knowing you’re alright. That’s all that I want,” he finished softly. And it was true. He knew he was way out of her league, just as she was way out of his. It went both ways. Clearly, they were not meant to be together, even as friends. Adrian should’ve known from the first time he spotted her, from Danna’s warning that first day. But he was selfish, and here they were now. He had to undo what he did; he cared for Nova, and couldn’t let her go without her knowing that, without her knowing that someone did. Whether or not she cared for him as well didn’t matter as long as she was distressed to be around him, whatever her reasons were. Her happiness had to come first. It was evident she had so little to begin with.

Nova gulped, inhaled slowly. She opened her mouth, then closed it, then finally said softly, “Well, I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Really.”

“Really?” Adrian repeated, biting back a laugh. “I know where you come from, Nova. I know who you are and who you’re onboard this ship with. They don’t care about you. Not like I do.” He pointed an accusatory finger off to the side. “They’ve got you trapped, Nova, whether or not you want to believe it. It’s a little suspicious that a young woman like you is traveling with them of all people. Why?” Nova opened her mouth to fight back, but Adrian continued on. “They’re using you, Nova. I don’t know what for, but it’s clear as day. Why else would you be so welcomed into their kind? When was the last time they let outsiders in? They’re not your family. You’re going to die if you don’t break free from them.” He swallowed, his words catching in his throat. “Maybe not right away, because you’re strong, but sooner or later,” he dropped his voice two dynamics, reaching a hand out to massage the bruise on her cheek. Her skin was smooth under his hand. She didn’t pull away, and he must’ve imagined her leaning into his touch, “that fire, that fire that I love about you, Nova, is going to burn out. You can’t keep letting them have their ways.”

Nova gaped up at him, and it took every bit of his willpower not to engulf her in a hug, to press a kiss to the top of her head and never let go. Adrian wasn’t sure what had come over him.

“It’s not up to you to save me, Adrian.” Slowly, her hand reached up to meet his, and he began to think that maybe she was having a change of heart.

“You’re right, only you can do that.”

She tilted her chin up, and Adrian thought she might kiss him. He almost stopped breathing. Then she pulled his hand off of her cheek, turned her eyes back to the ground.

“I’m going back. Leave me alone.”

__________

Nova’s mind was a muddled mess all day. She managed to avoid the others by remaining outside with her thoughts, knowing how they all avoided being out in the open air as much as possible. Honey hated it the most, having grown up on a farm, despite never admitting to it. She loved being outdoors.

The quiet somewhat allowed her to think. That was, it did until Adrian Everhart waltzed up and practically confessed his infatuation with her, confusing her more than ever.

What gave him the right, anyway, to just show up around her whenever he pleased? To make her belly churn low in her stomach in a foreign way? To speak badly about the people who raised her and expect her to agree? To make her feel as if she were going crazy whenever she felt his breath on her skin. She hated it. She hated him...and his stupidly handsome face.

She thought back to her uncle, locked away in America, waiting on her. Years ago, when he was first arrested, she and his remaining followers were forced to flee or risk being imprisoned, or in her case, separated from everything she knew for forever. After Phobia and Winston were caught, it was decided that they would go to Europe, where they would be safe from the law in America. They had always planned to return when the time was right and Nova was old enough and skilled enough to carry out her mission without fail; it was only by luck that Ingrid managed to win them tickets onboard the RMS Titanic in a game of poker the night before the ship’s departure.

But the years Nova spent in Europe were years spent in preparation. Nightmare was born in Europe, the wanted criminal that no one had been able to see clearly enough to describe an accurate photo to police. It was something she had always prided herself on. That, and of course her infamous smoke bombs she crafted with the help of Ingrid and Leroy that put her victims to sleep instantly upon inhalation. Reports in the papers always mentioned how victims had slept for up to three days, and all of them had experienced heart stopping nightmares, hence her alias. She remained unaffected by the gas because of the mask she wore over the bottom half of her face that also kept her identity a secret.

Nightmare wasn’t just something Nova became when she was bored. No, Nightmare was simply a way for Nova to rob stores of supplies she and the others needed without being caught; she was a way for Nova to still be known to her uncle in the States, as she appeared even in American papers, to let him know that she was coming for him; she was a way for Nova to prepare to fight for her life, on the streets and in the prison where her uncle was being held. Nightmare was many things, and she was certainly a valuable asset to the others. Without Nightmare, Nova wasn’t sure how well off they would be now.

Maybe Adrian was right. Maybe the Anarchists were using Nova. But Nova wasn’t an imbecile; whether or not she was being used, the fact that her uncle sat in a prison cell remained unchanged. He was family, after all, and even though Nova disagreed with many of his tactics, she still loved him.

Perhaps spending time in prison had changed his person, and would help assure Nova that what she was doing was right, that it was what she wanted to do. Something itched at the back of her mind, however, a voice whispering that he was still the same man he was nine years ago; the same man filled with hatred and hunger for power.

As the sun began to drift toward the waves, Nova made her way back inside, mind more confused now than ever. She didn’t know what she wanted anymore. Before departing Europe, she thought she wanted revenge, even if it didn’t bring her happiness. It wasn’t like she was missing out on much, seeing as the majority of her life had been a joyless hellhole that kept spiraling downward at an out of control pace, unable to be stopped or slowed down.

She found them in the smoking room seated at a table, absorbed in the papers and maps and graphs laid out before them. Nova stood at the entrance for a moment, watching Leroy and Ingrid bicker and Honey apply lipstick on top of her already red lips. Nothing had changed since she had stormed out that morning. Did they even notice that she was gone? Or care? It didn’t matter, whatever the case. What bothered Nova the most was the realization that this had been the norm for them for nine years; ever since they escaped to Europe, it had been all about her uncle and freeing him and restoring their power, no matter the costs. Never once did they stop and take a deep breath, a short break to do something other than pointless planning. That’s all it was, really. Ace was a criminal, and criminals remained in prison. Even when they got out, law enforcement always found them.

But even if they failed, they would continue to use Nova as their gateway to get whatever they wanted. Always what they wanted. They were never going to stop and ask what she wanted. She was young, they would say, therefore they have to decide for her because she doesn’t know right from wrong.

Gritting her teeth, Nova turned around and left.

__________

Whatever Nova was doing was sending warning sirens off in her head. Her heart was pounding; she had never chosen something for herself. This was a new terrain with endless paths. And Nova only had one in mind.

She snuck onto the first class part of the ship and, coincidentally, ran into Oscar and Ruby. They had been just as surprised to see Nova as she was them, but upon her quick, jumbled questioning, they shot one another a secret look and gave Nova her answer before bidding her goodbye, as they were headed off to dinner.

Moving quickly, as if trying to race logic, Nova made her way to the front of the ship, toward the bow. There was no one on this part of this ship, save for one person who was at the very front, looking over at the water. Taking a deep breath, Nova slowed down her pace, unable to gain control of her racing heart. She shouldn’t be here; she should be inside with the others That’s what made this all the more thrilling. It was chillier out now, and windier. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, turning the sky a rich reddish purple. Goosebumps erupted on her skin. Wrapping her arms around herself, she inhaled a shaky breath.

“Hello, Adrian.”

He spun around quickly, eyes widening when they met hers. First, surprise, then confusion, then something that made her warm inside.

Her lips quirked up, and she looked down, feeling almost shy. Then she raised her eyes back to his and shrugged helplessly. “I changed my mind,” was her only explanation. Though it was only half true, due to her inner conflict still simmering, it felt like a weight was lifted off of her shoulders just from saying those four words. When Adrian returned the smile, his filled with relief, Nova took it as a cue to walk closer to him, coming within an arm’s width from him. “They said you might be up here,” she began, only to be gently shushed. She closed her mouth, biting the inside of her cheek and staring up at Adrian quizzically.

“Give me your hand,” he requested, reaching forward and offering his.

Nova did.

He tugged her closer, just a bit, and Nova got the faintest thought that he might try to kiss her again. This time, she believed she would let him.

“Now, close your eyes.” He squeezed her hand, the smile not faltering once. When Nova didn’t, a small bit disappointed that she was wrong, he laughed softly. “Go on,” he encouraged.

Once again, she complied with his requests. A hand was placed on her back, between her shoulder blades. He pushed her forward, guiding her with the hand on her back and the one in hers.

“Step up.”

Nova hesitated, and he must’ve noticed, for he helped her find her footing as well. She heard him shift behind her, sandwiching her between him and the rail. Her breath caught in her throat at the closeness.

“Now, hold onto the railing.” He guided her where to hold steadily. She gripped the cold railing like a lifeline. “Keep your eyes closed, okay? Don’t peek.”

“I’m not,” Nova answered quickly, attempting to sound nonchalant.

He chuckled. “Okay. Step up onto the rail.” When she did, she let out an involuntary gasp, suddenly feeling unsteady as her hips rose above the railing. His hands found her waist from behind her, and for once, she didn’t push them away. Instead, she was grateful that they were holding her in place. “Hold on,” he teased. “Keep your eyes closed.”

Nova let out a laugh, though it was shaky.

“Do you trust me?” His voice was in her ear, sending shivers down her arm.

“I do.”

His hands left her waist, going to her hands. He slowly peeled them from the railing, sending a slight panic through her body. She turned her head to the side, almost like she was expecting to fall, but it never came. Her body leaned back the slightest bit against Adrian for stability. He extended her arms all the way out, like wings, then returned his hands to her waist.

“Alright,” he murmured. “Open your eyes.”

When she did, Nova let out a laugh. Before her was the open ocean, the sky, the setting sun, warm on her face. Something rushed through her, a feeling she didn’t recognize but greeted like an old friend all the same. Freedom.

The wind whipped past her ears, through her hair, but all of her senses were centered on Adrian. This boy, this amazing boy, did this for her. He hadn’t even asked what changed her mind, or made a move on her like he had previously done. It seemed as if he just wanted her to be happy, like he had said earlier that day when she had been in a sour mood.

Nova stretched her arms out wide, tilting her head up and basking in this new feeling. It was exhilarating, so much that Nova couldn’t help but let out another laugh. A pure, free, burst of laughter.

From behind her, Adrian was shaking with laughter as well. His hands moved to trace her fingertips and her callouses, her scars and her palms, until they paused, interlacing with hers. He stopped laughing, suddenly, as did she. Nova felt his face tilt down into her neck, electricity shooting through her body. Slowly, he guided her arms back down, not letting go even when they were resting in front of her. She was cocooned in his arms, the heat from his body pressing into her back. She turned her head to face him, smile gone.

It was as if a force was drawing them together, and before Nova could think twice about it, her eyes were fluttering shut and their lips connected, at first hesitant. Fire rolled through her body; she needed more. He must’ve felt the same, for he made a noise in the back of his throat and deepened the kiss. Nova shook from so many sensations at once. One hand went to the back of his head, the other tugging the one across her waist tighter, pulling him closer and closer to her, gripping tightly.

Kissing Adrian Everhart was a feeling Nova could barely comprehend or describe.

The only thing she could truly comprehend, other than the way his gentle caresses sent shockwaves throughout her, was how it was the first time she had ever been selfish.

#renegades #archenemies #nova artino #Adrian everhart #nodrian #novian #ruby tucker #Oscar silva #danna bell #anarchists #my writing

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bamby0304 · 5 years

Text

Her Saviours- Ch.21

Series Masterlist

Summary: During an odd case, the Winchesters came across Y/N, a scared young Omega girl who had been used as a lure for a nest of vampires. After rescuing her from the monsters, John and his sons took her in knowing she was in no state to live among ordinary people. But three Alphas and one Omega is a mixture bound for disaster.

Warnings: Explicit language. ABO dynamics. Angst. Violence.

Bamby

“I’m sorry,” you muttered while walking through the corridors of the asylum.

Sam looked down at you from where he was walking by your side, furrowing his brows in confusion. “For what?”

“Dean… me… the scent.”

“Oh that.” He nodded, turning back to watch where he was walking. “Yeah, it didn’t go unnoticed.”

“I realised. Your Alpha has been scenting everything ever since Dean and I stepped out of the bathroom.”

“Actually, I’ve been stinking up the place,” he countered. When you looked up at him surprised, he shrugged. “You think I’m just gonna roll over and submit? Dean can try to out Alpha me as much as he wants, but until you’ve got his mark on your neck he can’t strut like he owns you. Sex is just sex without a bond.”

Coming to a stop, you looked up at him with a frown. “What are you saying, Sam?”

Sighing, he turned to you and shrugged. “I’m saying… Dean doesn’t realise what he has, and he doesn’t realise what he doesn’t have. He thinks you’re his, but you’re not. Not really. And he doesn’t realise he could have you, because he’s too caught up in being a good soldier.”

“You’re not telling me everything.”

He gave a short nod. “You’re right.”

When he remained silent, you pressed, “Care to elaborate?”

“While on a case, in a haunted asylum? While you smell like sex and my brother? While he’s out there worrying about you being with me, as much as he’s worrying about us being in this place? No. I think it can wait.” Turning on his heels, he continued down the corridor.

Rolling your eyes and letting out an annoyed huff, you followed.

...

The two of you entered a room and spotted Gavin right away. The young Alpha was unconscious, on the ground. Sam was quick to hurry over, but you kept your distance. His scent had made you freeze as an uneasy feeling came over you.

It was like your body tensed a the scent of any Alpha that wasn’t a Winchester, which might’ve been normal if they were your Alphas. As an unclaimed Omega you shouldn’t have been so affected by outsiders as you were. It was a relatively new thing you’d noticed, too. The first account of this weird behaviour was during the Hook man case, and since then the feeling had only gradually gotten worse...

Shaking Gavin’s shoulder, Sam woke and startled the boy. “Hey, Gavin. It's okay, we’re here to help.” He looked over his shoulder, expecting you to be right there. When he realised you weren’t, however, he frowned, clearly confused and concerned.

“Who are you?” Gavin asked, drawing Sam’s attention back to him.

“My name is Sam, and that’s Y/N,” Sam introduced. “Uh, we found your girlfriend.”

“Kat?” Gavin shot up. “Is she alright?”

“Yeah. She's worried about you,” Sam explained as he watched the kid get to his feet. “Are you okay?”

“I was running. I think I fell.”

“You were running from what?”

“There was… there was this girl. Her face. It was all messed up.”

“Okay listen, did this girl... did she try and hurt you?”

“What? No, she… uh…”

When Gavin didn’t go on, Sam asked, “She what?”

“She… kissed me,” Gavin answered, horrified at the thought.

“Uh… um… but… but she didn't hurt you, physically?”

Dude! She kissed me. I'm scarred for life!”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“Well, trust me, it could have been worse,” Sam noted. “Now do you remember anything else?”

“She, uh… actually, she tried to whisper something in my ear.”

“What?”

But Gavin didn’t have an answer. “I don't know. I ran like hell.”

...

You could hear loud banging and Kat screaming, that’s all that was needed to make you, Sam and Gavin run.

Rushing through the wind hallways of the asylum, you followed the noise, ignoring the anxiety bubbling in your chest. You wouldn’t let yourself think of the possibly reasons behind all the noise.

Following Sam, putting one foot in front of the other, while keeping a tight grip on your gun, you ran like Hell.

Throwing yourself around the last corner, you couldn’t deny the relief that flood you at the sight of Dean, alive and well. That relief didn’t last long when you realised he was using the broken leg of one of the hospital beds in an attempt to break down a door.

“What's going on?” Sam called before the three of you reached Dean.

“She's inside with one of them!”

Kat’s scream followed Dean’s words. “Help me!”

“Kat!” Gavin began to panic.

“Get me outta here!”

Pushing Dean out of the way, Sam stepped up to the door and called out to her. “Kat, it's not going to hurt you. Listen to me. You've got to face it. You've got to calm down.”

Dean turned to his brother, astonished. “She's gotta what?!”

“I have to what?!” Kat yelled.

“These spirits, they're not trying to hurt us, they're trying to communicate,” Sam explained. “You gotta face it. You gotta listen to it.”

“You face it!”

“No! It's the only way to get out of there,” Sam countered.

“No!”

“Look at it, come on. You can do it,” he urged.

There was a moment of silence where Kat’s screaming and panic stopped. The four of you outside of the room waited, tense and impatient. So much could go wrong with this plan...

“Kat?” Gavin called.

“Man, I hope you're right about this,” Dean muttered to his brother.

Sam’s eyes remained on the door. “Yeah, me too.”

The moment stretched on a little longer before you heard the door’s lock click before the door slowly creaked open and revealed a freaked but unharmed Kat.

In an instant, Gavin was pulling her into his arms. “Oh, Kat.”

Making sure the coast was actually clear, Sam stepped into the room to make sure it was clear. When he stepped out, you knew the ghost was gone.

“One thirty-seven,” Kat uttered, drawing everyone’s attention back to her.

“Sorry?” Dean asked.

“It whispered in my ear,” she explained. “One thirty-seven.”

Turning to each other, Sam and Dean spoke at the same time, “Room number.”

Dropping to the ground to his duffle bag, Dean started sorting through it to get ready for whatever came next. You and Sam shared a quick look before ducking down, keeping your backs to the teens, as the three of you started to work out a plan.

“Alright. So if these spirits aren't trying to hurt anyone…” Sam started.

“Then what are they trying to do?” Dean finished.

“Something is hurting people, though,” you noted. “The cop, those kids back in the day. Something in here isn’t nice, and that’s the something we’ve gotta deal with.”

Sam gave a short nod, agreeing with you. “Alright.”

Getting back up, Dean turned to the teens. “So, now, are you guys ready to leave this place?”

“That's an understatement,” Kat answered quickly.

“Okay.” Nodding, Dean turned to Sam and you. “Get them outta here. I'm going to go find room 137.”

Before anyone could move, however, you scoffed, “No.”

“No?” Dean raised a questioning eyebrow at you.

“Like I said, something in here isn’t nice. No one is going off alone. So the question now is, would you rather have me and Sam go off and find the room while you deal with them?” You gestured to the teens. “Have me go with them while you and Sam find the room? Or… have me go with you?”

Pausing, hating every option set on the table, Dean glared ever so slightly as he conceded. “Fine. You’re with me.”

...

“I hate this. I hate that you’re so fucking stubborn,” Dean grumbled as the two of you headed down the hall, nearing room 137. “Why couldn’t you have just stayed in the motel like you normally do?”

You didn’t bother responding. You hadn’t respond the whole time he’d been grumbling while the two of you walked around. He just needed to get it all out of his system, and commenting would only rile him up more. The last thing you needed was him completely distracted from the case.

Coming to room 137, Dean carefully pushed at the door and eased inside before reaching back out and offering you his hand. Didn’t matter how shitty he was, he wasn’t going to let his emotions jeopardise your safety.

Taking his hand, you let him lead you into the room.

Inside you found dozens of filing cabinets and overturned tables and chairs. Papers and files littered the ground, basically covering the entire floor.

Squeezing your hand, Dean silently let you know it was time to get to work, while also telling you to stay close. Letting each other go, you started off in different directions in the hopes of finding something useful.

You settled into a filing cabinet that was mostly intact, while Dean fiddled around with his own thing. Before long, he seemed to have found something.

Prying open what appeared to be a secret hatch, he pulled out a file. “This is why I get paid the big bucks.” He grinned.

Dropping your own stuff, you headed over to him. “Whatcha got?” Looking over his shoulder, your eyes dropped to the paperwork where you found a bunch of notes, and hand-drawn pictures of medical instruments.

“Well all work and no play makes Dr. Ellicott a very dull boy,” Dean muttered.

The further into the file you got, the worse things got. You read on stories of procedures done on real people. The doctor had made notes on his intentions, his theories, and his hopes for his patients. While he seemed to have had their best interests at heart… his own clear insanity had twisted those intentions into works of horror.

“No wonder the patients rioted,” you noted.

There was no question about it now. Whatever had been causing people to go homicidal… you were certain it was the doc.

...

You and Dean were heading for the exit when he suddenly pushed you back around the corner right as someone shot at them

“Damn it, damn it!” He pressed himself against you protectively, keeping you against the door as he called, “Don't shoot! It's us!”

“Sorry! Sorry,” Kat apologised.

“Son of a…” Shaking himself, Dean pulled away from you, and grabbed your hand, before carefully rounding the corner again. “What are you still doing here!? Where's Sam?” he asked as the two of you started towards the teens.

“He went to the basement. You called him,” Gavin answered.

You frowned, shaking your head. “We didn’t call him.”

Kat turned a few shades whiter as she focused on Dean. “His cell phone rang. He said it was you.”

“Basement, huh?” Dean glanced down at you for a moment before turning back to the teens. “Alright. Watch yourselves....and watch out for us,” he told them before the two of you turned back around and moved further into the asylum once more.

...

“Sammy? Sam, you down here?” Dean called as the two of you wandered around the basement carefully. “Sam? Sam!”

As you turned around you let out a yelp. Sam stood right there, in front of you, barely a couple of feet away.

Dean spun around, shotgun raised and ready. As soon as he saw his brother though, he let out a breath. “Man, answer me when I'm calling you! You alright?”

“Yeah. I'm fine,” Sam assured you both.

“You know it wasn't me who called your cell, right?” Dean asked, stepping towards you and his brother.

“Yeah, I know. I think something lured me down here.”

“I think I know who. Dr. Ellicott,” Dean explained. “That's what the spirits have been trying to tell us. You haven't seen him, have you?”

Sam looked surprised- which was understandable, considering none of you had expected the doc to be the bad guy. “No. How do you know it was him?”

“’Cause we found his log book. Apparently he was experimenting on his patients, awful stuff. Makes lobotomies look like a coupla aspirin.” You shuddered at Dean’s reminder of the things you’d both read.

“But it was the patients who rioted,” Sam rioted.

“Yeah. They were rioting against Dr. Ellicott,” Dean noted. “Dr. Feelgood was working on some sort of, like, extreme rage therapy. He thought that if he could get his patients to vent their anger then they would be cured of it. Instead it only made them worse and worse and angrier and angrier. So I'm thinking, what if his spirit is doing the same thing? To the cop? To the kids in the seventies, making them so angry they become homicidal.” Adjusting the strap of his duffle bag that hung on his shoulder, he started down the corridor. “Come on, we gotta find his bones and torch ’em.”

“How?” Sam asked, not making a move to follow- unlike you. “The police never found his body.”

“The log book said he had some sort of hidden procedure room down here somewhere where he'd work on his patients. So, if I was a patient I'd drag his ass down here, do a little work on it myself.”

“I don't know, it sounds kinda…”

“Crazy?” Dean cut Sam off.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. Exactly.” Dean nodded as he opened a door and headed inside, with you close behind.

The room was small, but Dean was adamant about finding the secret room. He wasn’t going to be satisfied until every nook and cranny had been checked.

“I told you I looked everywhere.” Sam entered the room, watching his brother with a look on his face that you couldn’t read. “I didn't find a hidden room.”

“Well, that's why they call it hidden.” Dean paused a moment, listening for something… which is when you heard a faint whistle of wind. “You hear that?”

“What?” Sam asked.

Crouching down on the ground, Dean reached out at the bottom of the wall. “There's a door here.”

You got down beside him and did the same. Sure enough, you could feel a light breeze.

“Dean,” Sam called, drawing both yours and Dean’s attention to him. You froze at the sight of his gun aimed at Dean, and the blood trickling from Sam’s nose. “Step back from the door.”

Carefully, Dean got to his feet and put himself between Sam and you. “Sam, put the gun down.”

“Is that an order?”

“Nah, it's more of a friendly request.”

Raising the gun more, Sam aimed it at Dean’s chest. “’Cause I'm getting pretty tired of taking your orders.”

Dean shook his head at his brother. “I knew it. Ellicott did something to you.”

“For once in your life, just shut your mouth,” Sam warned.

You let out a squeak, getting to your feet and stepping closer to Dean. You grabbed at his shirt, looking at Sam over his shoulder. “Sammy…”

“Stay back, sweetheart,” Dean told you.

“She’s not yours, Dean. She doesn’t have to do what you say, either.” Sam snarled.

“What are you gonna do, Sam?” Dean took a step closer to his brother, prompting you to move closer to the nearby shelves to stay out of the way. “Gun's filled with rock salt. It's not gonna kill me.”

You screamed as the gun went off.

Dean went flying into the secret room and landed on the ground with a heavy grunt. Your eyes darted towards Sam quickly before you hurried over to help his brother.

“No. But it will hurt like hell,” Sam noted.

Dropping to your knees by Dean, you shook his shoulder. “Come on, come on, come on. Dean!”

The sound of wood cracking under the weight of someone had you spinning around. Sam was nearing you and Dean, though his attention was on you now.

“You gonna shoot me, too?” you asked, trying to control the shake of your voice as much as possible.

“I’d never hurt you,” he countered. “All I ever wanted was to keep you safe. To make you happy. To give you a life better than the one my father offered. The same one he,” his eyes darted to Dean, “refuses to give up.”

As his attention snapped back to you, you quickly raised your own shotgun. “Come any closer and I will shoot you.”

“No you won’t.” To prove his point, and to prove you wrong, he took a small step closer… and you did nothing. His lips curved into a grin. “Told you.”

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t hurt him. Even though he’d just shot Dean… you couldn’t do it, because it wasn’t really him. He didn’t have control of himself. Whatever the doc had done, it had fucked with his head… and you couldn’t risk hurting him over something that wasn’t his fault.

Then there was the other thing. The fact that you couldn’t hurt him… because the thought of hurting him broke you.

Choking on a sob, you dropped your gun. “Sammy… you’re stronger than this. Don’t hurt him. He’s your brother.”

Dean coughed and groaned, coming to. “Sam… we gotta burn Ellicott's bones and all this will be over, and you'll be back to normal.”

“I am normal. I'm just telling the truth for the first time. I mean, why are we even here? ’Cause you're following Dad's orders like a good little soldier? Because you always do what he says without question? Are you that desperate for his approval?”

“This isn't you talking, Sam.”

“That's the difference between you and me. I have a mind of my own. I'm not pathetic, like you.”

“So what are you gonna do, huh? Are you gonna kill me?” Dean groaned as he pulled himself up onto his elbows.

“You know what, I am sick of doing what you tell me to do. We're no closer to finding Dad today than we were six months ago.”

“Well, then here. Let me make it easier for you.” To keep Sam’s attention on him and away from you, Dean did something absolutely stupid then… he offered Sam his gun. “Come on. Take it. Real bullets are gonna work a hell of a lot better than rock salt.” When Sam hesitated, he yelled, “Take it!”

Snatching it out of Dean’s grasp, Sam then aimed it at his brother’s face, leaning over him.

You held back the sob that threatened to escape as you continued to back up.

“You hate me that much?” Dean asked, looking up at his brother. “You think you could kill your own brother? Then go ahead. Pull the trigger. Do it!”

Sam pulled the trigger… and nothing happened.

Using Sam’s surprise to his advantage, Dean quickly grabbed his arm and pulled him closer before swinging his fist into Sam’s face and knocked him to the ground.

Grunting as he got to his feet, Dean scoffed at Sam. “Man, I'm not going to give you a loaded pistol!” He stood over him. You flinched as Dean punched him again, this time knocking him out. “Sorry, Sammy.”

“He gonna be okay?” you asked, worried eyes on the younger of the two.

Nodding, Dean moved over to you and offered a hand. “He’s just gonna sleep for a bit,” he explained as he helped you to your feet.

With one last glance over your shoulder at Sam, you then followed Dean and started searching the room for the doctor’s remains.

There were eyes on you. You could feel them as you moved about. Every now and then you felt a chill run down your spin, too. You weren’t letting it deter you, though. Moving about, you made sure to remain in Dean’s line of sight as you looked behind ratty curtains and in rusty cabinets, all the way ignoring that hair-raising feeling.

“Oh, that's just gross,” Dean muttered, catching your attention.

“Found him?” you asked, pausing your own search.

“Yep,” he called back to you.

Starting towards him, you opened your mouth to offer help, but before you could utter a single word a hospital bed slid across the floor towards you.

You were knocked off your feet and onto the rotting bed. As you landed a man suddenly appeared, leaning over you as he grabbed your head, pressing his fingers into your temples. You opened your mouth to let out a scream as on overwhelming sense of energy, heat and a searing pain pulsed through you.

The energy smothered and surrounded your head, pressing into it, sifting through your nerves as it sought something out. It was like a sharp knife digging through soft flesh, while also being both terribly cold and unbearably hot at the same time.

“Don't be afraid. I'm going to help you,” Dr. Elliot’s mangled face loomed over you as his lips turned up into a cringeworthy smile. His rotting flesh was all cut up from whatever his patients had rightfully done to him. “I'm going to make you all better.”

“Y/N!” Dean called.

You were frozen, unable to do anything other than suffer as the pain grew more and more intense.

Suddenly Dr. Elliot let go of you as a warm and bright glow came from a corner of the room. His eyes grew wide as he watched the light grow. Stepping back from the hospital bed, as if stepping back from his inevitable doom, he stood no chance as the flames engulfed his remains.

Laying on the dirty and rusting hospital bed, you watched as the doctor screamed as his spirit burned away just like his body.

Dean hurried over. “You okay?” he asked as he checked you over. “Y/N?”

A single tear rolled down your cheek.

“Fuck.” Pulling you closer, he held you tight as you began to cry.

Sam’s grunt had the two of you looked over at where he was coming to.

“You're not going to try and kill me, are ya?” Dean asked, keeping you close to him.

Rubbing at his sore jaw, Sam shook his head. “No.”

“Good. Because that would be awkward.”

...

You stood behind Dean, with his hand in yours as the three of you said your goodbyes to Kat and Gavin.

“Thanks, guys.” Kat looked to you and the brothers, clearly still shaken but grateful.

Gavin nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“No more haunted asylums, okay?” Dean gave them a pointed look.

They both silently agreed before hurrying off to their car.

As soon as you were all alone, Sam finally spoke up. “Hey, Dean?” He waited until Dean turned to him before going on, “I'm sorry, man. I said some awful things back there.”

“You remember all that?” Dean asked as you moved closer to him, hiding from both brothers so they couldn’t see your eyes well up again.

“Yeah. It's like I couldn't control it. But I didn't mean it, any of it.”

“You didn't, huh?”

“No, of course not!” Sam insisted. “Do we need to talk about this?”

Shaking his head, Dean pulled you closer as he answered, “No. I'm not really in the sharing and caring kinda mood.” Pressing a kiss to your head, he then led you towards the car. “I just wanna get some sleep.”

That was something you could finally agree on.

Bamby

#alpha!dean fanfiction #alpha!dean fic #alpha!dean x omega!reader #alpha!dean x omega!you #alpha!dean x omega!y/n #alpha!sam fanfiction #alpha!sam fic #alpha!sam x omega!reader #alpha!sam x omega!you #alpha!sam x omega!y/n #her saviours

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legobiwan · 5 years

Text

Master and Apprentice: An Overview of Themes

Okay, so as many of you may have surmised, I adored this book. There’s so much to talk about in it and the ramifications of some of the themes play all the way up to the Sequel Trilogy.

To be honest, I’m not even sure where to start with everything I want to talk about, but I’m going start here with this basic outline of things I noticed and will dissemble from there over the next few days, weeks, whatever.

Lineage

“You inherit your parents' trauma but you will never fully understand it.”

So I will preface this part by saying that I am a huge fan of Bojack Horseman and this theme comes up again and again and again in this show. (As does the difficulty, but possibility, of breaking that cycle.)

This book is heavy on the behaviors and prejudices and patterns that get passed on through generations, or in this case, lineages. Dooku’s preoccupation with prophecy touches Rael, which touches Qui-gon, which touches Obi-wan, and of course, ultimately plays a huge role in Anakin’s life. Not only that, but Dooku’s restrained, demanding manner seems to have rubbed off on Qui-gon, who seemed to be constantly measuring up Obi-wan to an impossible metric and thinking it in his presence, which meant Obi-wan likely felt all of this and presto changeo we have a talented young Jedi who feels he is unworthy. This book really illustrates how Masters are as much parents as teachers, and how whatever issues the parent is dealing with gets passed down and processed, whether it be through rebellion, imitation, or a host of other reactions. Hell, the book mentions Yoda’s master (albeit not by name). I am *dying* to know who they were and what happened there.

Performance Art

Okay, so one of the initial main culprits is a group of performers who end up being branded as terrorists. First of all, this made musician-me CACKLE, period. But beyond that, there is a running theme of a performative aspect to government, to ceremony (Fanry perfects this), even to the Jedi themselves with their rituals, with their idealistic Code versus reality. Sidious was perhaps the best performance artist of the entire GFFA. And prophecy, to a certain degree, requires performance, requires actors to ingest a script and accept it as truth, and finally meet its demands of life’s stage. Is it foretold because the events must happen or because the actors choose to make them happen?

Prophecy

Which leads me into the thorniest topic of this book. Dooku was obsessed with prophecies. Qui-gon became obsessed with prophecy, to the point of breaking a thousand laws to get Anakin to Coruscant. And then Obi-wan was so devoted to Qui-gon, despite everything, that he told himself he had to believe in the prophecy, for Qui-gon’s sake (back to family issues there.)

How many of these prophecies ended up being self-fulfilling because of the actors involved? (Namely, Qui-gon.) Even when Qui-gon realizes his mistake is trying to control the future instead of accepting it, he goes ahead years later to manipulate circumstances so Anakin can be a Jedi. That’s not accepting the future, he cheated at dice to change the future, to control it. And that action set off an avalanche of consequences I doubt Qui-gon prepared for. In short, Qui-gon is a very fallible character here and shows a fair amount of egotism in terms of his relationship with prophecy.

I mean, the Force showed Qui-gon that he was “meant to misinterpret” his vision? I don’t even know where to start with the sheer audacity of that statement. Qui-gon doesn’t report his vision to the Council, because he thinks they won’t understand, thinks they’ll get mired in some minutiae of governance and not do anything substantial. And yes, the Council does dither, even Obi-wan notices it, but those controls are there for a reason and Qui-gon just runs roughshod over them, because he thinks he alone has the answers, that he alone can change the future.

And it kind of comes back to this whole Lineage issue where Dooku had this attitude that he alone knew the truth. I mean, he defects to the Sith partially to rid the Republic of corruption, and look at his Padawans - Rael and Qui-gon, both iconoclasts, both skirting the edge of...something, and it’s almost laughable that Qui-gon gets so upset with Rael’s disregard of certain parts of the Code (the killing of his Padawan part, of course, but also the celibacy part) because Qui-gon lies and cheats and pulls cons across the galaxy and disregards swaths of the Code at will. And you have to wonder, is this because Dooku was too independent, and if Dooku was that independent, how did Yoda’s training of Dooku play into that?

Then again, while family and upbringing play a huge part in a person’s actions and personality, they are not the only thing, they do not dictate the future. Nor do prophecies. And Qui-gon clings so much to these prophecies, just as Dooku did (and Dooku’s prophecy of choice, he who learns to conquer death will through his greatest student live again is just...it explains a lot as to why Dooku was so devoted to teaching, was so exacting on his students ((although I will never let go of the headcanon that Dooku actually enjoys teaching, because I feel that a personality like his needs someone to impart knowledge to)).

Prophecy, more often than not, becomes self-fulfilling prophecy, which is an interesting paradox. Prophecies are read, believed to be true, and are enacted by the actions of the very people (beings) who read them in the first place.

And thus they become prophecy.

I mean, no wonder Yoda wanted to burn the “sacred texts” by the time The Last Jedi rolls around. Prophecy becomes a way to abnegate responsibility for one’s actions, to deny, whether it’s Dooku seeking to avoid death, Qui-gon proclaiming he is a vessel for the will of the Force, or even Obi-wan claiming Luke as the Chosen One in Twin Suns. (Although, I wonder about that last one, as Obi-wan is naturally skeptical of prophecy. I mean, the Jedi do have the Force and are granted visions, but then again, they make decisions. They choose to turn to the Dark Side, choose to bend to the will of a hazy future which claims no specific actors...and I feel like Obi-wan’s references to prophecy are more an expression of familial love, of tribute to Qui-gon rather than a true belief that Anakin was "the” Chosen One. Obi-wan believed in Anakin himself above all else, even his better judgment.)

The Jinn-Kenobi Express

So...what is going on with these two?

In many ways, this is more of a Qui-gon book than an Obi-wan book, although we get plenty of insight to Obi-wan’s character. And one of the things I really appreciate about Claudia Gray is the fact that she seems aware of the Jedi Apprentice series, the kind of dynamic that created, and weaves this story in a way that does justice to those interactions and the limited time we see Qui-gon and Obi-wan together on screen.

And the thing is, Qui-gon is kind of a jerk to Obi-wan. From page two of this book, his is questioning Obi-wan, wondering why he hasn’t reached a certain point in his abilities yet (all while deliberately holding him back in areas like lightsaber combat, which is an astounding illustration of Qui-gon’s complete obliviousness to his own actions and ramifications of his actions). And, let’s be honest, Obi-wan is an empath - he wouldn’t be such a talented negotiator and diplomat if he weren’t (because, before anything else, you need to be able to read people, to know and feel their emotions in order to succeed at deals, treaties, and diplomacy). Obi-wan knew Qui-gon was questioning him, could feel it and this harkens back to those JA books where Qui-gon is kiiiind of a total douche, at times. And Obi-wan - rebellious, independent, self-esteem-lacking, so wanting someone’s approval Obi-wan...just falls right into this. It’s kind of an unhealthy dynamic, which resolves itself after Pijal, only to relapse all over again when Qui-gon finds Anakin and pulls his BS on Tatooine.

Here’s the thing. Qui-gon is not a bad person. I don’t hate Qui-gon, he has good motivations, he wants to make things better. He cares about Obi-wan, seeks advice from his old Master (not knowing Dooku has fallen, my god), tries to free all the slaves he encounters, wants to buck every piece of Jedi and Republic law in order to make the galaxy right. And, you know, I get it. I really do. But there’s idealism and then there’s trying to do the right thing within the systems (no matter how terrible) we have created and inching forward to change because to do otherwise would be to fight yourself in a paper bag.

Qui-gon is the living embodiment of the phrase “the road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

And Obi-wan knows this, knows Qui-gon is fallible, knows that his devotion to idealism, to prophecy is dangerous and yet he goes along with it anyway because Obi-wan’s greatest failing is his attachment. Obi-wan (the empath) cares too much and he can’t let go - not of Qui-gon, not of Satine, and certainly not of Anakin.

"Let the past die. Kill it if you have to.“ I mean, I’m not a Kylo Ren-stan by any means, but he’s not wrong. At least, not in a broad sense, not in the way that might have allowed Obi-wan to make some clearer-headed decisions about everything from his relationship with Qui-gon to Anakin to the Council.

In Conclusion

Dooku cared about his students but possibly feared death and thus possibly made his students his vessels to achieve the goal of immortality, despite enjoying teaching.

Qui-gon cared about Obi-wan as much as he did the betterment of the galaxy but was terrible at expressing it and put too much faith in himself, the Force, and prophecy.

Obi-wan cared almost too much about everyone but himself, replacing self-esteem with rules and the Code, devoting himself to the memory of Qui-gon and his wishes in his guilt over his survival of the encounter at Theed.

And this writer cares waaaaaay too much about these characters and will most definitely be writing more about this book because, to quote Obi-wan flying a ship in the middle of a ship: AAAAAUUUUUUUUUGGGHHHH

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itsallavengers · 6 years

Text

“Liar, Liar, Pants on-” “Oh shut up, Harley.”

Tony bit his nails as he dialled, and then when he put the phone up to his ear a second later, he briefly wondered to himself why this was the level he’d somehow managed to stoop to.

Oh yeah. It was because he was a panic-ridden infatuated idiot who didn’t know when it was time to stop running his mouth.

God, how he wished he could just dial back the clock and erase the morning from existence. Well- maybe not the part where he’d bumped into Steve in the corridor and got to meet his amazing son for the first time- just the part where he’d decided to go and make up the most bald-faced lie in the history of bald-faced lies just so that he would have something to talk to Steve about.

It was because of the stupid ‘take your child to work week’ thing. Why had he decided to give that the go-ahead again? It was stupid, the workplace was for adults, not... not-adults. God, why couldn’t he have just made it a 24-hour thing like every other company did- he wouldn’t be in the Goddamned mess if it had only been one day.

The phone beeped five times before going to voicemail, and Tony groaned. Yes, he could just try again in a few hours, but still. He wanted a solution now, or he was going to have to move out of the country and never be seen again.

Stupid Steve. Stupid Steve who had just started working in advertising a few weeks ago and who Tony had been absolutely smitten with since the first glance. Stupid Steve who turned Tony into some bumbling fool whenever he walked into a room. Stupid Steve with his even more stupid son who was absolutely adorable and not at all stupid and who Tony had already fallen in love with because he was the stupidest of them all.

Man, that was a lot of stupid’s. He needed to calm down. Relax. It was all going to work itself out.

And it wasn’t like this was going to risk anything- he and Steve barely even spoke. Tony was the boss and Steve was just some employee that he’d had a grand total of four conversations with (five, if he counted the time one week six days and about thirty minutes ago when he’d bumped into Steve in the corridor and then they’d both apologized to one another). They weren’t friends or anything. He was just being ridiculous.

God, he really hoped he hadn’t blown it.

Luckily, not a moment after that quiet little plead with the universe, his phone rang. Thanking his lucky stars and sighing in relief, he jerked forward and picked it up off the desk, hurriedly ramming it up to his ear.

“I’m sat hiding in a dirty school toilet cubicle for this, so it better be good,” Harley hissed down the line at him, before adding “and if it’s some new invention of yours, I want at least 10% of your earnings for my contribution.”

“What? No.” Tony squinted and ran a hand over his face, “A) skipping class to answer a phone call does not justify 10% cut of the profit, and B) it’s not even an invention.”

“Then what is it?”

“Uh, well basically you’re my son now.”

There was a short silence. Then a sigh. “I mean, I’m game, but why?”

Tony rubbed his hand over his forehead again. God, this was a mess. “Because I accidentally told someone I had a son in order to make them think I was a mature and vaguely competent adult and also like me more, except he said he’d love to meet him and he was all smiley and looked so happy about it and so I was like ‘yeah, sure, I might bring him into work tomorrow seeing as it’s Take Your Child To Work week for some stupid reason’ and then he just nodded and arranged to meet me at lunch, and it was the first time we’d ever actually arranged to officially meet up anywhere and so I jumped on that chance because I temporarily sort of forgot I don’t actually have a son-” Tony took in a deep breath and finally paused, resisting the urge to just plant his face into the pile of paperwork and hit his head against it until he ended up in some sort of coma. It would be better than having to deal with the consequences of this.

Harley didn’t speak for a while, obviously trying to work through the vast array of garbage that Tony had just handed him. “I’m twelve,” he said in the end.

“Yeah, so?”

“Shouldn’t you be teaching me not to lie, and to definitely not try and overcome the lie by just piling on even more lies onto the original lie-”

“Well I’m not an actual parent, am I, dumbass,” Tony said snappily, “and if I want to lie about my fictional son in order to score a date with the hot guy in IT then I damn well will.”

There was a long silence, and then a dramatic sigh. “I’m not sure I can condone this on morality grounds-”

“I’ll give you fifty bucks.”

“Sure okay, what do I have to do?”

Tony swivelled on his chair, looking out of the huge glass windows and sighing. “I don’t know- pretend your last name is Stark, that I’ve been carefully shielding you from the limelight for years but you’re still an amazingly developed kid who is a true representation of me and a shining example of how much of a mature adult I am?”

“Uh, sure, I can do that. Harley Stark, yeah? My mom can be estranged and I’ve been secretly trying to find her my whole life, but just never told you because I fear what it would do to the family dynamic if I introduce my mysterious and slightly unstable mother into the picture,” Harley reeled off immediately, jumping into the adventure with his usual blind enthusiasm, “oh, and I’m part robot because of a laboratory accident-”

“Yeah, sounds great,” Tony told him absently, “I’ll pick you up at eight tomorrow. Don’t talk about the robot part to him though, people generally don’t respond well to being told a child is part-cyborg.”

“But-”

“See you tomorrow, kid!” Tony ended the call quickly before the menace could say anything more, and then flopped back onto the chair tiredly.

His mind wandered back to Steve- the soft smile he’d been wearing as he introduced Tony to his son, quickly turning to mild horror when said son had shaken Tony’s hand and then blurted ‘you must be frickin’ loaded’. The little squeal that had fallen from Steve’s mouth in that moment was something Tony wanted to remember for ever and ever.

Of course, he’d just laughed- he liked people with character, and it certainly seemed Peter was bursting full of it. And it had resulted in a truly adorable blush spreading across Steve’s cheeks, so there really was nothing to be offended over. The man had shoulders sculpted like a Greek God’s, and yet he was softer than a damned teddy-bear. Tony just wanted to...

Well. There were a lot of things he wanted to do. Most of them weren’t very tasteful.

He sighed for the millionth time, wondering how on earth he was going to swing this. What if Steve wanted to meet for a second date? A third? What if Steve wanted to be in a relationship with him? God, Tony had wished for this for so long; he’d spent more time down in advertising in the weeks of Steve’s employment than he probably had in his entire career. He’d showered every damned day, just in case they bumped into eachother- even when he’d been spending hours and hours in his workshop and he’d been exhausted, he’d still gone and cleaned himself up, just on the off-chance that Steve would spot him. But now he’d gone and ruined everything by telling a stupid stupid lie about a non-existent child. Wow. Responsible adult his ass- when Steve found out about it, what the hell was he going to think?

And this is why thou shalt not fucking lie, he thought miserably as he let his head fall once again into his hands.

“Who are you?”

“Harley Stark.”

“Where have you been for the past twelve years?”

“Living with relatives somewhere far away from the limelight, but it’s okay, because you visit me every weekend and you’re super involved in my life.”

“And why is it important that you do not fail me today?”

“Because I’ll lose fifty bucks, and I can buy a shit-ton of candy with fifty bucks.”

“What?” Tony looked at him incredulously as he swung his legs on the desk in his office and looked utterly unbothered, before just huffing and waving a hand. “Alright, fine, okay, that’s your incentive. Just remember that, okay? All that candy is at stake here, you don’t want to fuck up. Also , that reminds me- quit the potty mouth for an hour, okay?”

“What?! You seriously think I can go an hour without saying fuck?”

“Steve’s kid isn’t allowed to swear, and so neither are you. It’s called good parenting.”

Harley rolled his eyes, muttering some unsavoury things under his breath. Tony let him get it out of his system, waiting patiently until Harley huffed in annoyance and then tilted his chin back to Tony. “Fine. But I want an extra ten bucks for psychological damages.”

“Oh, so holding back on foul words that children your age shouldn’t even know is now called psychological damage, is it?” Tony asked with a raised eyebrow. When Harley just nodded solemnly, Tony inwardly asked himself why he’d ever thought this was a good idea. Harley was probably going to have bled him dry by the end of the goddamned hour. “When I was your age, I had to call my father sir. And if I swore like you did he’d have probably disowned me-”

“Do I get the ten bucks or not?”

“You’re going to bankrupt me, boy.”

“I’m sure you’ll survive, what with owning like, a quarter of America’s wealth and all.”

Tony rolled his eyes, before shuffling around in his pocket and then slamming another bill on the table. “Fine. But you better act your little ass off, let me tell you-”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” Harley waved a hand and hopped off the table, checking his watch, “let’s go, he’s gonna be there soon. Hey- can I quit school and take up a permanent position as the actor who plays your son for the sake of the single dad you’re so desperate to impress?”

“Okay A) I’m not desperate, shut the hell up- and B) What would your mom say to me just stealing you away like that, huh?”

“Thank you, probably,” Harley shrugged, looking down at his shoelaces for a moment as they both wandered down the hall. Tony looked at him with a grimace for a moment, before snaking a hand around his shoulder and drawing him in tight.

“Well, her loss,” he declared, “you will undoubtedly become a famous actor after this performance today, and then she’ll be wishing she could live the luxury life with you and your eighteen dogs.”

Harley considered this for a moment, before grinning. “17. I want a cat too.”

Tony just rolled his eyes again. “You pull this off, and I’ll buy as many fucking cats as you want, kid.”

He saw Steve, sat with his son in the canteen and smiling down at the kid fondly as he ruffled the little guy’s hair- and suddenly all his bravery deserted him.

“This is a terrible idea,” Tony blurted, hand reaching for Harley’s shoulder and halting them both, “I can’t... he’ll be able to tell I’m not- he’s a goddamned single amazing parent doing all this on his own and I’m just... I can’t fucking do this, God, what was I thinking-”

“Hey, look, we’re here now!” Harley hissed at him, grabbing his hand and squeezing, “don’t pussy out Tony, you’ve already fucked up, so you gotta just keep lying until you come out the other side now-”

“That’s not- that’s not how this works, okay, adults don’t do tha-”

“Tony!” A voice called out across the canteen and Tony’s head whipped up, fingers clutching tight to Harley’s shoulder in mild panic.

Right. So that was Steve, waving over to him across the room. Wow, that was a... that was a big ol’ smile there. God, Tony wanted to kiss him so bad. And there- there was Peter too, waving next to his father and beaming. They looked adorable together. Holy mother of God, Tony was out of his depth here, what the damn hell was he playing at? Pretending to be anything like the sort of man Steve Rogers was, Good Lord, he was an absolute pathetic idiot-

“Hey, look, it’s Steve!” Harley jumped up and down by Tony’s side and waved, tugging Tony forward with a happy smile on his face. When he turned back to Tony for a second, his face scrunched up and he jerked his head back to Steve. “Come on man!” He whispered, “he’s seen you now, you can’t back out.”

Fuck, the kid was right. With a quick blink and an internal smack over the head, he looked to Steve and then smiled weakly. The man was in a suit- not even an expensive suit, at that- and yet he still looked so damned perfect. Neatly styled hair, sleeves rolled up his forearms- dammit, the man had glasses, and glasses were not hot, they weren’t, and yet...

Tony had never wanted to mess someone up so badly in his entire life. It was quite frankly ridiculous, how soft he was over one stupid guy from advertising.

He let himself be pulled forward by Harley’s hand, until his shins hit the chair and suddenly he was right in front of Steve and Peter, both of them looking up at him with identical soft little smiles on their faces.

“Hey,” he waved an awkward hand and then sat jerkily on the chair, “uh- this is my son, Harley.”

Fluidly, Harley leaned forward and stuck out a hand. “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard all about you, Mr Rogers.”

Harley held back the wince as Tony spluttered and then quickly stepped on his foot. However, it did prompt a rather delicious blush from Steve, so it wasn’t entirely terrible. “He means I’ve- I’ve, uh...”

unable to formulate a proper excuse, Tony just huffed, tapping Harley lightly over the back of the head, “okay, busted, yeah, I may have talked about you occasionally-”

“Three times over the course of last night,” Harely butted in with a smile, and yeah, choosing him had most definitely been a terrible idea, he should’ve just hired some child actor or something, that would’ve been far less hassle.

Steve just laughed, though. Tony felt himself react spontaneously to that sound, heartbeat flittering and fluttering in response like some lovestruck teenager upon spotting their crush in the hallways. He figured right about now would be when the narration came in and the cameras panned in on Steve Rogers and his perfect face-

“It’s great meeting you, Harley,” Steve leaned over and extended a hand, shaking Harley’s warmly, “Tony had a lot of great things to say about you earlier.”

“He did, did he?” Harley turned and looked up at him smugly, and Tony held back on the urge to call him something unsavoury. He was supposed to be a good parent. He bet Steve never swore at Peter.

“Apparently you’re top of the class in math and science?” Steve parroted Tony’s words from before, which was... surprising, really, he hadn’t expected Steve to actually take it all in, “and already involved in the Stark Internship program? That’s really impressive.”

“Well,” Harley shrugged, rubbing his neck a little sheepishly, “I mean, I guess I’m just-”

“Don’t be silly, you’re not ‘just’ anything,” Steve waved a hand and rolled his eyes, leaning back on his his chair, “I have to tell Peter that all the time. Too modest, both of you. Peter can do all the sciencey stuff too, can’t you buddy?”

Peter looked up at his dad and grinned nervously. “I mean, I guess so.”

“Yeah, definitely too modest,” Tony sat gingerly on the chair and winked over at Peter, “your dad’s told me all about you as well, you know. All those ideas and designs you got in that head of yours? I could make an inventor out of you in a few years, I bet.”

Steve nudged Peter at that and wiggled his eyebrows, before pushing his glasses back up his nose a moment later. Tony just tried not to swoon. Good God, since when had he found good parenting to be so fucking attractive?

“Harley,” he didn’t take his eyes off Steve as he poked his ‘son’ in the shoulder, “why don’t you give Peter the tour, huh? You know the way ‘round, and I bet he’d love to see everything.”

Steve turned back to him and noticed him staring, and Tony watched a little pink blush bloom across his cheeks again as he glanced down at the table and then obviously attempted to bite down on a bashful smile.

Oh, Tony was so totally going to hit that.

In the corner of his eye, he was aware of Harley staring at him, almost certainly using the power of telepathy to try and ask Tony what the fuck he was doing, pairing him off with an 11-year-old he’d never even met before. He just glanced over for half a second, trying to convey the sentence ‘there’s an extra hundred bucks in it if you do this for me’ with only his eyes.

Whatever face he pulled, it seemed to end up doing the trick, because Harley’s face suddenly relaxed, and he nodded happily. “Sure, I can do that!” He agreed, and Tony knew he was faking, because it was incredibly rare that much enthusiasm ever filtered into that boy’s voice. He’d been less emotive when Tony had agreed to let him into his workshop for the first time. “Come on, Peter. I know the coolest places in here!”

The little rascal grabbed Peter by the hand, beaming at him widely as he began to tug them both off. Peter seemed surprised for a second, and he looked back to his dad in confusion, but Steve’s face was soft and he just made a gesture for his son to go and have some fun. Tony watched his hands intently, because... well, they were very nice hands. Long. Elegant. Angular, like an artist’s. He really couldn’t be blamed for appreciating them. They belonged in a gallery- not that he liked the thought of just having Steve’s severed hands on display, oh God, how had his brain managed to fall down into that spiral-

“Tony?” Steve asked, leaning forward a little, and Tony’s eyes snapped back up to meet him. He swallowed down the small urge to whine at the way Steve’s fingertips were brushing his forearm to get his attention, and instead chose to smile.

“Yes, hello, back on Earth,” Tony said, zoning back in, “sorry I just-” he tapped his forehead and then laughed nervously, “it’s a big place up there. Get lost sometimes.”

Steve pushed his stupid glasses up the bridge of his nose and smiled. His fingers still rested, feather-light against Tony’s forearm. Those three points of contact felt impossibly warm. “I can imagine,” he murmured with fondness in his voice, “probably lost enough, in fact, that you forget to eat now and then, hmm? Don’t even try to deny it, Mr. Stark,” he chuckled and shook his head before Tony could even begin, “I’ve seen Miss Potts berating you for it more times than I can count. You stay here for a second, alright?”

Steve stood smoothly, and Tony watched him. “Where are you going?”

“To get you a sandwich,” Steve glanced over to the vending machine and then frowned, “and a kit-kat. That’s... that is your favourite snack from those things, right?”

Tony just blinked, watching Steve’s cheeks begin to go that adorable red shade again. “Do you watch me at vending machines, Rogers?”

“Well- I mean, I have happened to see you at vending machines, yes, but it’s not like... I’m just observant, that’s all.”

Tony smiled, shuffling in his pocket until pulling out some dollar bills. “Alright then, Mr. Observant- if they do the cookie kitkats down here, I’ll have one of those, thanks.”

But rather than take the money, Steve just pushed his hand away gently, and then... then he winked. “My treat. Don’t worry. I’ll just be a minute.”

Then he was gone. Gone like... like a perfect single-father working an Advertising job and offering to pay for kitkats for the richest man in America. And who was so gorgeous that Tony wanted to dip him in chocolate and lick every square inch off his body.

And who was under the impression that they were about to bond over their sons. Which Tony did not have.

He sighed and let his head fall against the table, groaning quietly.

He was so monumentally screwed.

Like it? Donate to my kofi!

#itsallavengers writes #no-power au #stevetony #this is actually quite funny im not even gonna lie ghskjhfds

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stevenuniversallyreviews · 5 years

Text

Episode 117: The Zoo

“Can you blame ‘em?”

Every Western story about a return journey can be compared to The Odyssey if you squint hard enough, and while Steven’s rescue of Greg has already featured poor decisions and a cyclops, The Zoo is our most obvious reference point to a trial of Odysseus: in this case, the Lotus Eaters.

Does it make sense that such a small population could genetically reproduce this long? Let alone that distinct races would still be a thing in this inevitably incestuous family tree spanning millennia? Does it make sense that everyone here is roughly the same age, with barely any old people or children? Or that they’re speaking English, a language thousands of years younger than the last human abducted for the Zoo before Greg? Of course not, this is a nonsensical system. But if the choice was eleven minutes going over hyper-realistic minutia of how this system works (most likely, these folks are divided into small packs and we’re just seeing one of many groups) versus an interesting fable about free will and the conflict between hedonism and responsibility, I’m good ignoring the massive leaps required for the Zoo to hold logical water.

A thorny ethical question presents itself here: if the Zoomans are eternally happy and safe, to the point where they don’t understand the concept of “hurt,” is it such a bad thing that they lack free will? To us, freedom is such an obviously good thing that its value is taken as a given, but all choice does here is make the Zoomans unhappy for the first time since an incident long ago enough to be the stuff of legend. This is a group of people whose culture predates Ancient Greece and is still going strong, outlasting any human civilization that’s ever existed on Earth by an impossibly huge degree, so what right do we have to think our moral code is superior to theirs?

The Zoo is dystopia by way of Dora the Explorer, a perfect prison that has babied its inhabitants for so many lifespans that they can’t even fathom disrupting the system. A friendly voice tells them what actions to take to have fun (Smell the flowers! Go to bed! Swiper, no swiping!) and the Zoomans obey without hesitation; they are essentially to humans what modern dogs are to wolves, a domesticated and perpetually juvenile version of the original model. But they certainly aren’t a different species in that way (dogs diverged from wolves genetically tens of thousands of years ago, rather than a paltry 5,000); we see that the Zoomans are quickly capable of making choice when the idea is planted, but they choose to listen to the little voice. Is it ethical to give them the information to make a more informed choice? My gut says yes, but that’s based on a moral code developed by a society that, like English, is much younger than Zooman society.

The second question that arises from the first is the morality of Pink Diamond’s actions. From a Gem perspective, it’s a no-brainer: free will isn’t a societal good to them, so even if Earth wasn’t destroyed as originally planned when the Zoo was built, bringing people to a paradise whose only cost is freedom is an obvious win. This matters a lot for Blue Diamond, who’s still patronizing in her “saving” of Greg but clearly means well by her own alien metrics of good and bad. And in that way, on first viewing, Pink’s behavior becomes far less ambiguous than “evil alien kidnaps humans.” If she’s anything like Blue, she considered it a favor, and that alone characterizes her more than anything else we know at this point.

In retrospect, the Zoo is more clearly a half-measure taken when Pink was trying and failing to stop the colonization she began. This conflict wasn’t short, and it’s great to see evidence of Pink trying smaller ways to help humans before realizing that more drastic actions were necessary, rather than her just jumping straight to full revolution. The fact that the Zoo is still a thing after her permanent shift to Rose Quartz, however, is one of many indicators of Pink’s childish selfishness. She didn’t release the humans she abducted, just as she didn’t think of how her faked murder might have more violent consequences than a freed Earth. I call the selfishness childish because it comes not from malice, but seemingly not knowing any better. This is the self-centeredness of somebody who’s never had any reason to not be self-centered, which doesn’t absolve the harm she causes, but makes her more interesting than a true monster.

While the Gem perspective is clear, Steven provides an ardent opposition to the concept of paradise without choice. At no point is he tempted by a life free of worries, valuing his ties to an existing life despite its many warts. And while Greg shows a few hints of falling for the Lotus Eater trap in his more relaxed attitude towards captivity, it’s crucial that his support of Steven trumps the comfort of this new reality; an entire episode about Greg measuring an easy life versus his son’s happiness, while in keeping from the weird shitty version of Greg we met in House Guest, would’ve been ruinous to his actual character. He’s still chill, and encourages Steven to chill as well for his own well-being, but never goes further in trying to stay at the Zoo; we even know that he tried to escape before Steven arrived.

While their long-awaited reunion is sweet, my favorite Steven'n’Greg moment is the realization that amethysts will likely arrive in response to pain. Steven’s insistence that Greg hit him comes from both impatience and the knowledge that he can take a punch, but Tom Scharpling perfectly captures how insane this sounds to Greg. Even though he’s physically weaker than his superhumanly powerful son, Greg’s willing to get hurt in his kid’s place. And still, Steven hesitates, because neither of these people wants to hit the other despite the circumstances. Finally, after Steven’s punch sends Greg flying, I appreciate his idea to try punching him again; to me, it’s representative of how much Steven thinks of his dad, because he just assumes this middle aged dude is tough enough to shrug off such a blow.

The two lead Zooman representatives sorta blend together, but I think that’s the point: in a society where conformity is the only option, everyone’s bound to act similarly. They’re both portrayed well enough to avoid boring tropes associated with characters like this (we don’t get airy hippies or droning disciples): Cristina Vee’s Jay-Ten and Lamar Abrams’s Wy-Six are delightfully dopey and just a little bit self-superior when things they find obvious are a mystery to our heroes. Vee doubles as the Little Voice, which is correctly played without a hint of menace, and while Abrams has already proven himself as Buck Dewey, I’m impressed by his ability to play a fully different character just as well (he’s also Garbanzo, who also sounds distinct, but he only says his own name so there’s not much room to measure differences).

While I have no idea whether the pun is intentional, I am all about these people raised beyond the stars being spacier than our more grounded Earthlings. Still, their one-note nature means that my favorite Zooman moments are actually Steven’s reactions to them. His quick decision to escape after being told to do “the bits” bit is low key hilarious, as is his bewilderment at their tiny splashes. These aren’t people that are going to make jokes or clever observations on their own, at least in a way that can match what their terrestrial counterparts can accomplish, but at least I never feel bored with the routine in a way that detracts from the episode.

In contrast to the mundane hedonism of daily life, the Choosening is just the sort of cultish jargon that one might expect from a society like this, and I love the familiarity implied in Greg’s world-weary comment that there’s always a catch with this sort of thing. We have no way of knowing how arbitrary the Choosening is, but considering Greg gets chosen Choosened right after arriving, it certainly seems random. While arranged marriage is obviously a thing on Earth as well, the power dynamics on the Zoo are more akin to forced marriage. But even this is colored by an earthly glimpse at an alien culture, because we don’t have any societies with an all-powerful overclass and a genuinely content and cared-for underclass. Is it really forced marriage if the parties involved are happy about it? Even if this is due to them being happy about everything that happens in this society? Are they really capable of true happiness when they’ve experienced no alternate emotions?

This is where the theme of choice versus happiness comes to a head, and it’s so important that we don’t get a tidy ending where free will is presented as a liberating alternative to a peaceful life of following orders. Choices allow for more meaningful happiness, but can lead to sadness as well; while this might seem obvious, I’m always down for children’s media explaining why negative emotions can be okay sometimes (see: Inside Out) and that a life free of pain isn’t necessarily good. It would be disingenuous for real choice to be presented without backlash to a society without free will, and we don’t even get to see how the situation resolves in the original series.

The amethysts march in to help, and Michaela Dietz wonderfully captures gruff warriors helping with emotional wounds. But we end the episode with the Zoomans in turmoil, abandoned by our heroes without a second thought. Based on how the system works, all it takes to reject the Little Voice is just deciding not to listen, and it hadn’t been done before because the Zoomans wanted to listen; again, it’s a tricky situation, because perhaps they do have free will and have chosen obedience. .

As in the last few episodes, we get a cliffhanger ending, but The Zoo bounces back from Gem Heist by having an actual complete story within the chapter. Steven and Greg make a meaningful impact on the Zoomans, but whether it’s for better or worse is up in the air. Our heroes gain the option to eat lotuses in peace for the rest of their days, but choose freedom instead. And they reinforce their bond by sticking together through it all. Now they just have to escape a space station crawling with Gems and find their missing friends and fly home, and that will be all!

Future Vision!

The Zoomans finally return in Steven Universe Future, where their utopia has been expanded to include the Famethyst and Holly Blue. They may be running the station, but they choose to live the way they always have. They’re also petty as hell, which is an excellent development for their passive society.

We’re the one, we’re the ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!

While I appreciate the moral questions prompted by The Zoo, and enjoy the episode itself, it’s not quite something that I’d say I love. There’s nothing I find wrong with it, but it lacks a certain amount of oomph that might make it worthy to stand alongside the likes of Alone at Sea or Maximum Capacity in my rankings; this is a high concept episode that has decent character work, but ratio of focus on concept to character doesn’t align with what I love about Steven Universe.

It’s weird to put it in the same category as Gem Heist, because I like The Zoo a lot more, but this is what I get for not having way too many categories. Enh, I can live with it.

Top Twenty

Steven and the Stevens

Hit the Diamond

Mirror Gem

Lion 3: Straight to Video

Alone Together

Last One Out of Beach City

The Return

Jailbreak

The Answer

Mindful Education

Sworn to the Sword

Rose’s Scabbard

Earthlings

Mr. Greg

Coach Steven

Giant Woman

Beach City Drift

Winter Forecast

Bismuth

Steven’s Dream

Love ‘em

Laser Light Cannon

Bubble Buddies

Tiger Millionaire

Lion 2: The Movie

Rose’s Room

An Indirect Kiss

Ocean Gem

Space Race

Garnet’s Universe

Warp Tour

The Test

Future Vision

On the Run

Maximum Capacity

Marble Madness

Political Power

Full Disclosure

Joy Ride

Keeping It Together

We Need to Talk

Chille Tid

Cry for Help

Keystone Motel

Catch and Release

When It Rains

Back to the Barn

Steven’s Birthday

It Could’ve Been Great

Message Received

Log Date 7 15 2

Same Old World

The New Lars

Monster Reunion

Alone at Sea

Crack the Whip

Beta

Back to the Moon

Kindergarten Kid

Buddy’s Book

Gem Harvest

Three Gems and a Baby

Like ‘em

Gem Glow

Frybo

Arcade Mania

So Many Birthdays

Lars and the Cool Kids

Onion Trade

Steven the Sword Fighter

Beach Party

Monster Buddies

Keep Beach City Weird

Watermelon Steven

The Message

Open Book

Story for Steven

Shirt Club

Love Letters

Reformed

Rising Tides, Crashing Tides

Onion Friend

Historical Friction

Friend Ship

Nightmare Hospital

Too Far

Barn Mates

Steven Floats

Drop Beat Dad

Too Short to Ride

Restaurant Wars

Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service

Greg the Babysitter

Gem Hunt

Steven vs. Amethyst

Bubbled

Adventures in Light Distortion

Gem Heist

The Zoo

Enh

Cheeseburger Backpack

Together Breakfast

Cat Fingers

Serious Steven

Steven’s Lion

Joking Victim

Secret Team

Say Uncle

Super Watermelon Island

Gem Drill

Know Your Fusion

Future Boy Zoltron

No Thanks!

6. Horror Club 5. Fusion Cuisine 4. House Guest 3. Onion Gang 2. Sadie’s Song 1. Island Adventure

#the zoo #steven universe #su #steven universally #review

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sasspiria · 5 years

Text

(The Odds Of This Are) Astronomical - Chapter Eight

Fandom: Far Cry 3

Pairing: Jason Brody/Vaas Montenegro (Vaason)

Tags/warnings:Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence,Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics,True Mates,Alpha Vaas,Omega Jason,Biting,Grant Lives,Accidental Bonding,Angst and Porn,Porn With Plot,Scenting,Rough Body Play,Don't Examine This Too Closely,Canon-Typical Violence,Intercrural Sex,Claiming Bites,Snowballing,Deepthroating,Excessive Drinking,Buck Being Creepy,Knotting

Summary: SummaryOmegas were uncommon but they weren't rare by any means. True mates, however, were an entirely different story. The odds of any person having one were astronomical at best. When Jason finds that he does have a true mate, he should feel amazing about being so lucky. A part of him wants to feel excited, damn all the consequences, but at the same time it just feels like the universe is giving him a hard smack to the face when his true alpha comes in the form in a psychopathic, murdering, drug addled pirate that kidnapped him and his friends. All Jason can hope is that he can use Vaas' manic affections towards him to his advantage and save the rest of them.

((read below the cut or on ao3 here))

By the time that Vaas came back to their cabin, Jason was huddled beneath whatever blankets that they had. He was shaking like a leaf, sweating profusely as he whimpered out Vaas’ name. The alpha cursed to himself underneath his breath, feeling like he had already devastatingly fucked up with Jason. He hadn’t expected Jason to go through a heat – at least not so soon. Didn’t American omegas load themselves up with drugs, blockers and suppressants, so that they didn’t need to deal with this shit every month or so?

Vaas didn’t really have the time to mull any of this over though, as Jason’s situation was dire enough that it took up all of his attention. The omega in front of him was weak and exhausted looking, tossing and turning on the mattress in a quiet fit. He pulled the blankets off of Jason, sitting the other up before he moved to less than gently peel his clothes off of him. Once Jason was completely naked, he stripped himself down and carried the omega off to a private, rudimentary shower.

He turned the water on and lay Jason down on his chest, hoping that the chill of the water would be enough to bring the omegas’ temperature down to something normal. It only took a few minutes of sitting there with him until Jason was jostled out of the feverish state that he had been put in. He looked around the room and blinked a few times in confusion as he registered what was happening around him, “Vaas?” He exclaimed in a lost tone of voice. “What’s going on, what are you- what are we doing here?” He gestured around the room with a sweeping gesture of his arm.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you were gonna be going through your heat, huh?” He playfully smacked Jason’s cheek, “What if I didn’t get back here for you? Huh, Jason, what would you have done then?” He snapped at the omega, true concern seeping out of him, even as he gripped Jasons’ hip in a less than gentle manner and repeatedly asked him what the fuck was wrong with him.

“It wasn’t supposed to!” He argued back, tone full of indignant anger. “I got an implant right before I left for Taiwan.” He pushed his forearm in Vaas’ face, pointing towards where the small dermal implant was still embedded in his skin. “I don’t know why this happened. Maybe it’s defective. With my luck, it probably is.” He answered honestly. “I thought that… well, I don’t really know what I thought was happening but this was the last thing to come to mind for me.”

He might have expected Vaas to be angry with him, or at the very least annoyed that he couldn’t keep up with his own body and even though he wasn’t entirely surprised by the bout of cackling that Vaas broke into, it didn’t stop him from glaring daggers at his partner. “What?” He snapped at the alpha, sliding away from him so that he could get a little bit more space to breathe and think about where he was, both physically and emotionally. The cold water helped him center himself, made him feel less like he had water on the brain.

It took a few minutes for his laughter to tone down until he could actually speak, “Hermano, Jason, Mi Amante… you can be so fucking stupid I swear.” He responded quickly before he dove into kiss him in a rough, possessive manner. “But it’s okay, I got you now, I’ll help you through this.” He hummed into Jason’s ear, before kissing him again.

“Whatever asshole.” He grumbled to himself after he pulled away from the contact. Vaas gently tugged at his arm to pull him in closer. He put forth effort not to laugh as Vaas kept trying to pull him backwards where he was still sitting under the water. “You know what? Actually I blame you for this. Somehow this is all your fault.” He stated, more out of spite then anything else. It wasn’t totally unrealistic that bonding with Vaas might have messed with his hormones and suddenly triggered a heat in him. It wasn’t a common occurrence but it wasn’t unheard of.

He was pulled back one more time and toppled over until he was precariously perched against Vaas’ hip, this time he decided not to pull away. Vaas kept giving him attention and his icy, overstimulated mood melted away into something softer. He rested his head against the alpha’s chest tiredly and listened to the rambunctious sound of his heartbeat He could hear distantly through the fog that was reassembling within his mind and clouding his thoughts, Vaas asking him if he was feeling better now.

“I’m…” He trailed off, not really knowing how he should answer. He didn’t think that he was ‘okay’, but going through this never felt ‘okay’ for him at the start. Heats, for him, were always a jarring experience. Even when he had someone to share them with, he didn’t like how out of control and weak that they had him feeling. In the end he ended up settling on,“I need you.” Because that was something the two of them could easily understand.

Hoyt’s fingers drummed in agitation against the glass of brandy in his hand. Things hadn’t been going as well for him in the past few weeks – one of the hostages had escaped and kept trying to disrupt his operations. He had lost hostages, radio towers and outposts on a near constant basis since he had arrived on the island. He might have been impressed, if it hadn’t already started affecting his bottom line.

When Hoyt had first arrived on the Rook islands and set up his business, smuggling and trafficking out tourists and natives, he had implemented a system to keep generating product and workers for him. He had men scope out potential hostages at clubs and bars in Bangkok – stupid, privileged children that were too naive to notice the red flags when they agreed on tours, or skydiving lessons or work opportunities.

Then the pirates under Vaas’ control would terrorize them into submission – or kill them if they made too much trouble – until Hoyt had the opportunity to send some of his privateers to take them to whoever was going to buy them from him. And if one of the hostages got away, they never got far. For the longest time, this system that he had had worked out with no failure and very little problems – he had an iron grip on the islands and the natives were forced to either keep their heads down or join ranks with him.

He was not too happy having his system disrupted and that was why he had called Buck up. Buck was a friend to him – had been for a long time – as well as one of his highest ranking privateers, and he knew well what a psychopath that the man was. But that was just what he needed right now, someone willing to get everything done without any second thought. Vaas was incredibly useful to him, but he was erratic and emotional, not very good at luring someone into a trap. And besides, he was usually busy keeping the northern islands more or less stable.

Buck’s maniacal grin doubled, stretching across his face in a glib sort of way as Hoyt downed his third or fourth drink since they had sat down together. The man was on edge, the kind of edge that only came when you had not experienced failure on a large scale before. If Buck was a different person, he might have worried about setting Hoyt off even further, but he had no fear and spoke to Hoyt evenly and without fear of retribution. He asked Hoyt what he knew of the man, “Snow White,” the natives and certain pirates had started calling him.

Rumors circulated around the Rook islands about the man, about this Snow White – how he was liberating the island piece by piece, allowing the natives to recover their homeland and live free from fear for the first time in twenty years. No wonder Hoyt was worried, he thought, if any of those rumors held any water, he’d be coming to the southern islands soon, coming for him personally.

Hoyt shook his head, “The only thing I know is that, whoever this little piece of filth is, they want their little friends back. That’s their weakness.” He explained, leaning in a bit with a conspiratorial edge to his voice. “He’ll be coming to you soon, for the boy you bought off from me.” He added, “And when that happens, I’ll need you to take care of him.”

“If he looks anything like that pretty omega that Vaas bought from that group, then I’ll be happy to take care of him.” The Australian responded with a harsh laugh, thinking fondly on his meeting with the omega. What was his name again? Jensen? No. Jason, that was right.

Jason had peaked his interest in a way that no other omega had before – when omegas usually bored them with their sweetness and gentility, Jason’s mean spirited and erratic nature had drawn him in. If it hadn’t been for the fact that he had already been claimed by Vaas, he might have lured the omega down into his home and had him keep his other boy company. He hadn’t had that opportunity though, so maybe he should just try his luck with Snow White. *** Back on the other side of the islands, Vaas and Jason were just getting into the swing of things with Jason’s heat. The two of them had quarantined themselves off in their room so as to avoid any unnecessary interruptions from pirates or natives or who the fuck ever thought that they had the right to run in and interrupt them. The only one of the pirates with any access to them was Carlos, as he was the only one that Vaas trusted enough not to try and jump his omega on sight – and he was only allowed to enter every few hours and bring them food, water and other things that they might have needed.

Jason had stripped down naked hours ago and kept himself that way – his skin was still heated in an ever present sort of way, so he did as much as he could to keep himself cool – and Vaas had done much the same. The two of them were settled down on a mattress, Vaas gripping Jason’s hip in a vice like grip as the two of them slept together.

Of the two of them, Jason was the first of them to wake up. He shimmied his way out of the other’s arms with no small amount of effort on his part and bounded over to the shower to cool his skin down. He stood under the freezing cold water for a few minutes, until he felt more or less normal again. Once he was out of the space and somewhat dried off, Jason sighed and crawled back over to Vaas and straddled the alpha’s hips before leaning down and kissing down the side of his face to wake him up.

In moments, Jason found himself pushed back onto the ground with Vaas climbing on top of him and peppering his face with kisses until Jason was left a giggling mess. He batted away at the alpha with his hands for a few minutes before he gave into the affectionate contact and settled for antagonistically kissing him back in earnest. He felt himself being pulled back onto the mattress while Vaas continued groping and kissing him everywhere and anywhere that he could get his hands and mouth on.

His mind was getting fuzzy again, he thought, and he needed Vaas to stop kissing him and start fucking him within the minute. Jason pushed at Vaas’ chest to get some distance between the two of them before he broke off the kiss before he pushed himself up so that he was sitting on his knees.

He lost sense of himself just then and made a few small, helpless noises as he tried to figure out how to ask for what he wanted without embarrassing himself in front of the alpha or falling flat on his face before he could say anything at all, literally. He felt Vaas squeezing his hip in a tender and comforting sort of way and that drew him back to reality. He let out a shaky breath and explained what he needed, that he needed Vaas fucking him and he needed that right then. He pulled Vaas’ face towards his own and kissed him hard on the mouth as he moved to sit on the alphas’ lap. He kept kissing him as the two of them ground their cocks together until they were both hard and aroused.

He felt Vaas’ fingers dip inside of Jason’s entrance, gently thrusting into them as they kept on kissing. When they pulled apart from the kiss, Jason was leaking slick and mewling quietly. The alpha steadied him gently and asked if he was alright. “’S just overwhelming.” He explained in a small and timid voice. Vaas grabbed a hold of his dick and held it steady as Jason moved to ease it inside of himself.

Almost immediately, Jason felt a sense of relief at having his alpha inside him, fucking him slowly and purposefully. It didn’t take him long to cum, his heat had him already in an almost near constant state of being on the edge of an orgasm. He slumped over after he came and Vaas moved them so that Jason was on his stomach with his legs pressed together as the alpha took over and fucked him hard.

The omega sighed and allowed himself to go along with the motions of it, allow himself the pleasure of being fucked until the alpha came, his cock swelling inside of him and locking the two of them together. He finally felt good, like he was a whole person again and not like some brain-rotted omega that couldn’t stand to think of anything more than being knotted. Vaas was laying on top him and they were locked together by his knot when he fell asleep, utterly content with himself.

He slept for a few hours at least, when he woke up again, the room was distinctly chillier – Jason guessed that it must have been dusk already – and Vaas was across the room putting his pants on. “You going somewhere?” He asked as he pulled himself up into a sitting position, cocking his head curiously at the man.

“Some of my boys took down a fucking cruise ship,” He explained, “I’m gonna go see what those rich fucks had on board. Don’t worry, I’m not dealing with slaves right now, they can handle a few pussy ass trust fund kids themselves. I won’t be gone long.”

“Okay, bring back something nice.” He hummed, not really thinking of anything else to say. So Jason was alone again and he didn’t like being alone when he was like this so he immediately looked around to find something to occupy himself with. Luckily, Vaas had an old, beaten up TV and a collection of movies of all genres recorded on VHS tapes.

He seemed to have everything from Cinderella to The Texas Chainsaw Massacre tucked away in a few cardboard boxes. He wondered if Vaas had a lot of moments where these came in handy. When he was strung out on something and could barely get himself off of the floor, he’s sure they came in handy for him then, just like they came in handy for him now. Jason crawled forward and dug through the boxes, pulling out a heavy, emotional looking drama from the bottom of the box.

He put the movie in and settled down on his stomach, lazily watching every half-baked plot line that the film haphazardly threw at him. When Vaas returned to the room, he settled down next to Jason and took to less than gently pressing kisses at his neck and shoulders. “What’d you put on?” He asked, in between kisses and light nips of teeth.

Jason laughed, “Fuck if I know. I just grabbed something.” He replied lazily, allowing himself to be coaxed into a state of relaxation by a man that usually had solely the opposite effect on everybody else that he came into contact with.

Despite the fact that the culture of the islands had changed a bit since he had been working on liberating them, Bad Town was still a filthy cesspool filled with murderers, trafficked prostitutes, gambling dens and just generally all sorts of violence going on.

Maybe that was just what it was always going to be like, Grant couldn’t be sure, but it was probably a good thing that it stayed just the way it was. At least for now. He didn’t want Buck being scared away from the town before Grant could get a hold of him and find out where Keith was.

He walked through the bar, curiously gazing around for someone that seemed out of place – he doubted that one of Hoyt’s privateers was a local, after all. He was interrupted from his (hopefully) low key sleuthing about the place that he heard a low whistle, followed by a chuckle. He turned around for the source of the voice and came into contact with a sparsely – and almost inappropriately so at that – dressed man.

He eyed Grant in a predatory sort of way – like he was cruising for him or something. Grant made it a point not to roll his eyes or walk away from the man outright when he started speaking in smarmy Australian accent but it struck him just then that this might be the very man that he was looking for. So he stuck it through, waited to hear whatever the man had to say, before he started in on interrogating him.“Well, it isn’t my birthday, then you must be Christmas.” He said.

“Uh-huh,” He said, utterly unimpressed with the man. “You must be Buck.” He inferred, watching Buck’s eyebrows raise in a questioning tone of voice. “I’m here for my friend. Keith.”

Buck stood up, like he was going to leave, “No, I’m sorry, doesn’t ring a bell.” He replied in a dismissive sort of way.

“You bought him from Hoyt.” Grant struggled to keep his composure, but he was getting frustrated with the Australian’s defiant peacocking. Jason would have been better at this, he thought, he always had a good poker face.

The Australian chuckled, “Ah, him?” He murmured as he did a half-turn to face Grant. “He said his name was-” and he covered his mouth and pantomimed a gagging scream.

Grant stifled a disgusted scoff, “You’re hilarious.” He deadpanned as Buck thought to walk off, probably back to his home – probably to where Keith was sitting in terror, probably to cause more of that terror to him. “You’re gonna give him back to me.” He said, speaking in an authoritative sort of way.

That stopped Buck dead in his tracks and he did a half-turn to look back at Grant. He muttered something to himself before he stretched his arms out grandiosely over the back of the chair he was sitting on. “Alright, let’s get down to Brass Tax. You must be Grant Brody.”

“I just want Keith!” He snapped in exasperation.

“Grant, Grant, Grant. Patience!” He chided the American, who was grinding his teeth down to nubs in his frustration. “We’re not all savages here! We’re just businessmen. Responsible capitalists! I’ve got something that you want? Right? That’s granted, and you’ve got something that I want.”

“And what is that?” He asked, already seething that he didn’t already have Keith’s location so he couldn’t just take this pervert down. He stepped towards Buck, ready to strike when the Australian let out a low whistle.

“Temper, temper, Grant.” He chided, “If you do me in, you’ll never get him back.” he pulled out an intricate design of an ancient looking knife. “I want you to find this for me, you score that and we’ll be Even Steven.”

“Huh,” He exclaimed, upon closer examination of it. “I’ve seen this knife before…” He said, more to himself than to the man in front of him. He had all but forgotten Buck in that moment and was jarred out of his thoughts when he heard the man snap back at him.

“Knife?” He asked in an incredulous sort of way, “It’s not just a fucking knife!” He snapped, grabbing the drawing out of Grant’s hand. “There’s more history in this than you and Keith’s four ass cheeks squished together, that’s my fucking fee. Alright?”

“Where is it?” He asked and Buck went into another tirade, telling him of a man with a boat that had the location of the knife. That was the best he was going to get, most likely. And with that, Grant exited the bar with a feeling of dirtiness and disgust at the man that he had just been forced into some kind of a deal into. There wasn’t much he could do about it now, though, he’d find the knife, he’d get Keith and hopefully never have to deal with the man again.

About halfway through the second film that he had been watching, the need that he had been holding back came over him once again. “Fuck.” He murmured to himself and bumped his head against the wall in a self-defeating manner, cursing his own biology for this inconvenient bullshit that it put him through every month or so. ‘Oh god,’ he thought, mortified. ‘If I stay here, I’m probably gonna have to start going through this again. Constant full on omega mode. What a fucking nightmare.’

Jason sighed and knee walked over to where Vaas was sitting, snapping angrily in Spanish to one of his men that was sheepishly trying to defend himself. He looked over noticing Jason’s presence and decided to end the call, “I can’t come up and clean up your mess like tu puta madre*. you fucking fix it!” He snapped and ended the call, throwing the cell to the ground so harshly that it gave Jason a start.

Jason frowned, “Is everything alright?” He asked, feeling an uncharacteristic sort of cautiousness around the alpha. Vaas turned to look at him and let out a short laugh. “No, I’m guessing not.” He murmured to himself.

“You know, your fucking gringo brother’s causing me a lot of fucking problems.” Vaas started, looking at Jason in an indiscernible sort of way. “Running around the fucking island like he owns the fucking place. Taking outposts, hijacking radio towers. Hoyt’s getting fucking mad about it and I can’t blame him for it, either.” He complained, “You know if shit keeps going down like this, he’s gonna have me going after him.”

It was just the truth, Jason knew that, but he didn’t want to think of the reality of it just yet. He knew that it was a very real possibility that Vaas might end up on the other side of Grant’s gun and he couldn’t really blame him for defending himself if that happened, and just the same if it was Grant that needed to defend himself against the alpha. But still, he didn’t want to think about the hypotheticals of it, preferring to worry about it if and when it came to that. “Don’t say that!” Jason snapped.

Vaas shrugged in reply, “That’s just the truth.” He said honestly, “I can’t say no if Hoyt wants me to kill him. I can put it off, maybe, and I’ve left him alone ‘cause of you but…” He trailed off, and Jason got the point of it, as depressing as it was.

“Well…you could put your dick in me.” Jason offered, slowly sliding his hips apart in a suggestive manner. “That would make everything better. Just fix all of our problems in one go.” He motioned in between them jokingly, if for no other reason than to distract himself from the existential dread that he was feeling at the thought of having to pick between his mate and his family, between his old life and the life that was being built for him on these islands.

Vaas laughed and pulled him closer until Jason was half sitting on his lap. “Well, maybe not all of our problems, but at least half of mi-” And Vaas pulled him in for a forceful, open mouth kiss. Jason had a dopey grin on his face as the two of them broke apart from the kiss. Vaas gently pushed Jason down on his back, forcing him to lie back as he laid a path of flighty kisses down his stomach. He had a lot of reservations about staying on the islands, he thought, but this was definitely something that he could see himself getting used to.

Jason was sprawled out on the beach, nude and covered from head to toe in blood. He felt filthy and he felt wrong. But he also felt right, like this was where he needed to be and how he needed to look – even if it disgusted him thoroughly. He scrambled to his feet, the feeling of the machete in his hand imposing upon him as he did so.

He walked forward, speeding up into a run until he found what he had no idea that he was looking for. Grant and a woman that he had never met before were standing together. The woman in front of him, she was beautiful – tall and statuesque, painted with tribal symbols that he instinctively felt held some weighty significance. Other than the ritualistic body paint, she was completely nude from head to toe, with only her long and intricately braided hair to provide her some sort of modesty. Jason was literally stunned, paralyzed by his awe at the sight of her.

But she wasn’t paying any attention to him, no, all of her attentions were on his brother. She walked a circle around him, each step slow and purposeful. “You are a great warrior, Grant Brody.” She stated in a tone of voice that suggested she was speaking more to the heavens then she was to him, “You will bring the Rakyat back, to our former glory.”

Thunder and lightning hit and cracked as she spoke, storms brewing around the three of them, thunder crackling dangerously close to where they stood – ready to shoot them down every moment. The woman braced her fingers around Grant’s shoulder, “I need you to do something for me. One more thing for me and then your path will be complete and you will truly be a Warrior.”

And then she kissed Grant and that was when Jason’s alarm bells were really raised. Grant wasn’t the type of person that would step out on his girlfriend with some woman…but he was, and Jason couldn’t bring himself to look, he closed his eyes – willing the scene away from him. He only opened them when an earth-shattering feeling came over him, like an earthquake or some other kind of natural disaster.

He opened his eyes and watched with horror as the earth literally separated underneath them, a fault line appearing right in front of where Jason stood and pushing them further away. Jason scrambled for purchase as he was knocked to the ground again. In front of him the woman began to chant in a foreign language and Jason got the sinking suspicion that she was summoning forth the disaster, willing death and destruction upon them.

The world around them got smaller and smaller as shadow-like creatures swarmed around the three of them. Neither Grant, nor the beautiful woman noticed them and every time that Jason tried to warn them to say something – anything – to get them to notice the impending chaos around them, smoke swarmed inside of his mouth and literally smothered his voice. So he was helpless to do anything. He just watched in horror as she finished the ritual with a knife in her brothers chest.

Jason woke with a start and looked around at his surroundings with panic and nervousness. He only calmed down, marginally, when he realized that nothing had changed from the reality of yesterday. Vaas was laying next to him, with his arm curled around Jason’s side. It was just so bizarre, so vivid and so damn real.

He sat up on his knees and experimentally checked to see that Vaas was still okay, he was still breathing, The world around them wasn’t collapsing. Grant wasn’t dead. And that striking woman, with the braids and the paint all over her naked body? She was nowhere to be seen. That was good, he was fine. Everything was fine, for now at least.

Jason sighed, deciding that he needed some fresh air before this all went to his head in a very bad way. He got himself dressed, wrapped a thin blanket around himself and headed out the door – he decidedly didn’t go very far, he didn’t want to attract any unwanted attention. He sat down on the dirt ground, cross-legged and curled up in on himself as he let himself experience the quietness and the peace around him. It was nice, meditative. He hadn’t been able to experience peace and quiet in a while.

That lasted for a few minutes before his phone started ringing out the custom ringtone that he had set for his brother. Jason scrambled to answer the call, fully knowing that it could have very well been some kind of a trap or a trick to figure out… Vaas’ location or his own. “Grant?” He asked, “Jesus Christ…Is that really you?” He asked in a soft spoken, almost frightened tone of voice.

“Of course it’s me, Jay.” The Elder Brody replied back in a gently mocking manner. “Who else would it have been?”

“I don’t know… I’ve been having these-” he sighed, “It’s gonna sound so fucking stupid, but I’ve been having these nightmares about this island. And about you, and the people here and its just- I thought something might have happened to you.” He groaned, feeling entirely ashamed of his out of character superstition. “Just don’t laugh. Please.”

Grant chuckled and then apologized, “I won’t laugh again, promise.” Jason scoffed incredulously at that, “So have you been? None of those fucking pirates have hurt you, right?”

“I’ve been… surviving.” He responded as vaguely as he possibly could, this wasn’t really something that he wanted to let his brother in on the details of. “Me and Vaas, we’ve been holed up back at camp. Not really doing much, you know, keeping a low profile for the next couple of days or so.” Before Grant could say anything else he added in a snappy tone, “And no. none of them have been hurting me, they’re all pretty respectful for the most part. Almost fearful, and I don’t blame them for that.”

“That’s good.” Grant replied, “I didn’t just call to see how you were doing.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Jason answered in a nonplussed sort of way. They didn’t really have the time for such niceties these days. Unconsciously, he tensed up in excitement, hoping that whatever Grant told him meant he got to help. “What’s going on? Did you find something out? Something you need me for?”

“Yeah, well maybe, I’m not sure if it’s a good idea yet.” Grant started, “But I think I know where Keith might be, he’s holed up with this weird Australian pervert.” Jason stiffened almost immediately, thinking that he knew exactly who the elder was talking about. “He goes by Buck-”

“Was he conspicuously under-dressed, a bit handsy? Kind of dirty looking, even for the standards of this fucking place?” Jason interrupted with a litany of questions about the man, hoping to confirm his suspicions about the man’s identity.

Grant was stunned into silence for a few minutes, “So you met him already?” He guessed, laughing a bit at how quick Jason still was to jump the gun and get it right to boot. “Yeah, that’s… a scarily accurate way to describe him. I thought you might have been able to trail him, and find out where he's storing Keith while he makes me run around looking for some fucking knife he wants.” And Jason was quick to agree to that, he told Grant that as soon as he was able, he’d meet up with the elder Brody and the two of them would take the privateer down, and get Keith back to safety.

((Spanish Notes: tu puta madre = your fucking mother))

#vaason #jason brody #vaas montenegro #abo au #lemons #heat chapter lmao

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