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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

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scopaesthesia 👁️ chapter 4

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3

Warnings: nonconsensual sex, death, murder, violence, stalking, paranoia, blood, gore, and other warnings to be added

This is dark!Bucky Barnes with a likelihood off dark!Steve Rogers as well and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Not everything is what it seems.

Note: I’m getting this chapter out before I’m clogged up with work. Y’all take care of yourselves and I hope you have a Happy Halloween.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Despite your agitation, your isolation slowly reinstilled a sense of stability in you. Even if you were trapped, even if you had little choice in being there, the cabin with the bullet proof windows and advanced security system calmed your wearing nerves. And without a phone, you could not be reminded of, or harassed by the faceless villain who had turned your life on its head.

The first day dragged by as you spent hours pacing in your room and tossing and turning on the mattress. Sure, you were annoyed with Bucky and his demands, his often mercurial moods, but you recalled Steve’s words and they abated your irritation. You could still be in your apartment, still be entirely clueless to your shadowy stalker, still be a sitting duck swimming through dark waters. But you were safe with two super soldiers, even if the circumstances weren’t ideal.

Steve brought you a pre-packaged meal and you ate alone at the desk after trading him for your grocery list.

You stared out the window at the shedding trees and the frozen ground, the critters gathering what they could for their nests and burrows. The preserved potatoes were powdery and stuck to your tongue; the gravy lumpy and bland. You tossed the tray in the bin under the desk and rolled yourself in your covers.

That nail in your skull hadn’t quite relented yet and the knot in your stomach only wound tighter. You were still tender between your legs but the levee had yet to break. You laid awake through the night but for the few hours before sunrise. You awoke with stiff muscles and a heavy head. No longer a sharp pain at the top but a dull pulsing just above your neck.

You went back to the desk, wrapped in the quilt formerly folded over the end of the bed and slid open the drawer. You stirred through the hotel quality contents; cheap pens, a notepad, and a handful of mints. Odd but you supposed you weren’t the first occupants of the safe house.

You took out a blue pen and the pad of paper. You looked out the window and etched in ink the scene on the other side of the glass. You weren’t particularly skilled but the points of the tall pines and the sprawling arms of the walnut tree were simple enough. Little scribbles to show the twigs and pinecones at their feet. You blindly scratched the nib against the thin paper until you heard a knock at your door.

“You awake?” Bucky’s voice came clear through the door.

You put the pen down and cloaked yourself once more in the quilt as you stood. “Yeah,” you called back as you leaned against the edge of the desk. “What is it?”

Bucky carefully turned the handle and opened the door. He wore his high collared jacket with its chest pockets and two more lower down. His leather-sheathed knife hung from his belt, its tip poking out from beneath his coat, and he twisted a pair of gloves in his hands. He let the door fall completely open and lingered in the frame.

“I’m going into town. Steve will be here.” He said as his blue eyes bore into you. “You okay?”

You shrugged and pulled the blanket tighter around you.

“You want me to turn the heat up?” He asked. You didn’t answer. “Look, I’m sorry about last night. About being so blunt but you have to understand, you panicking isn’t helping anyone.”

“Why wouldn’t you at least tell me about something like that? About the drawings?” You snapped. “I have a right to know.”

He sniffed and let out a long breath. “You really don’t want to know everything. Alright. I was just coming to make sure your list was final. Anything I need to add?”

“Just sweeping it aside? Just like that?”

“Honey, you don’t need to worry about this creep. Me and Steve will. You just need to be patient,” He neared you with decisive steps, “And listen to us. We’re your lifeline, it’s about time you start using it.”

“Don’t.” You huffed. “Don’t call me ‘honey’.”

He tilted his head and his eyes sparked. His lips curved slightly as he considered you.

“Sorry,” he said rigidly. “I guess… I didn’t realise I was doing that.”

You watched him as he pulled on his gloves and bent his fingers, flexing his hands as he pushed his shoulders back.

“So, I don’t need to grab anything else while I’m out?” He prodded. “You got enough clothes--”

“Yeah,” you said sharply, “I should be fine. I’d say that list is the least of my worries.”

He smiled and scoffed. “Alright, h-- You need anything, you let Steve know. He’s downstairs trying to figure out breakfast.”

You nodded as he stared at you. He rubbed his hands together and backed away. He turned and stopped at the door.

“If you really want the truth,” he looked over his shoulder, “He killed again. Two girls in as many nights…” He shook his head and tutted. “He seems pretty desperate. It’s a good thing you’re here. With us.” He stepped out into the hall and you barely heard his last word. “Safe.”

👁️

You found Steve in the kitchen grimacing at a bag of oats. His hair was slightly askew and he wore a sweatshirt which would be loose on any other man but clung to his broad chest and thick arms. His blue eyes bore a semblance of fatigue and he looked up as you neared the other side of the long walnut island.

“There’s coffee,” he smiled. “Do you like oatmeal?”

“It will do,” you climbed up on a stool and bent your arms over the counter. “Bucky gone?”

“Yeah,” Steve set down the bag and turned to the cupboard. He pulled out a metal mug in the military style and filled it with coffee from the pot. He slid it over to you. “You like sugar? Cream? Because we have neither.”

“I’m fine,” you chuckled. “So… is this something you do a lot?”

“What? Make coffee?” He asked as he bent and searched the cupboards.

“No, whatever it is we’re doing here. Hiding?”

“I’ve been sent on protective missions before,” he stood and clunked a pot on the counter. “Can’t say it’s ever been this… intense. Usually political,” he opened the bag of oats and poured them into the pot, “Escort from point A to B. Nothing overly complicated.”

“So why exactly has S.H.I.E.L.D. taken the lead and not the FBI?”

He looked at you and raised his brows. He turned to add water to the pot and placed it on the stove. He turned the dial and spun back to you.

“If I tell you, you can’t let on to Bucky that you know.” He warned as he neared the island. “I mean it. I really shouldn’t. He’s right, you know? The less you know, the better.”

“Tell me. I’ll keep my mouth shut.” You urged. “Please.”

He sighed and pushed back his blonde hair. His short stubble caught the light as he dropped his arms.

“We have reason, strong reason, to believe that this… guy has ties to an association known as HYDRA. An organization which has been working to undermine democratic peace for decades.” Steve lowered his voice as he leaned across the countertop. “The hotel room that was… an unexpected and uncharacteristic slip-up. Before, he was stealthy, smart, we were barely able to string it all together. He was all over the city. But… I’m starting to think that it’s all deliberate on his part. He wants to distract us with the overwhelming evidence so that we make a real mistake.”

“But why-- Why would an operative want anything to do with me?”

“Oh, well, we don’t think he’s with HYDRA anymore and that makes him even more dangerous. He’s taken everything they taught him, all the evil they instilled in him, and now he’s working for his own agenda.”

Steve searched your face, “Why he chose you; who knows? Maybe you said ‘hi’ to him and he liked the way it sounded or maybe it’s entirely at random. The FBI handed this case over because they can’t figure him out and I gotta be honest, we’re not any closer than they were. The only upper hand we have is that Bucky saw him. That’s it. We don’t have a name or anything else. Just a face and there are an awful lot of those in New York.”

You trembled and ran your fingertips down your cheeks. You gulped as you sat up and your eyes threatened to well.

“Thanks for telling me.” You whispered.

“Right, but I need a favour in return.” He said.

“What?”

“Stop snooping around. We’re all stuck in here for a while. It doesn’t help anyone, especially not Bucky. He’s just trying to do his job and he’s already had to call in back-up. He’s feeling beat up right now.” Steve explained. “Besides, you really can’t give him a hard time after he got all bloodied up for you.”

“I… I’m sorry. I’m just scared.” You muttered, “I’ll cool it. Okay?”

He smiled and turned back to the stove. He grabbed a wooden spoon and stirred the oats. He swore under his breath.

“I really hope you’re a good cook because we’re all gonna be miserable if I’m in charge.” He tutted at the steaming pot. “Or at least, half-starved.”

👁️

“So we ended up getting lost on the beach,” Steve hit his empty bowl with his elbow as he talked. “And the bozo says he’s gonna get seasick. On land!”

You laughed as Steve’s eyes twinkled but quickly stopped as you heard the beep from the front door. It opened and closed, followed by the tap of fingertips on the panel. You looked over your shoulder as Bucky entered. You hadn’t realised how long you and Steve had been talking. A couple hours even after finishing the chewy porridge.

“There’s more in the car,” Bucky crossed to the island and plunked two bags on it.

“Oh, I’ll help,” you slid off the stool and Bucky caught your shoulder.

“You should stay inside,” Bucky said, “Steve.”

“Alright.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“I’ll clean up in here,” you offered.

“Don’t you dare,” Steve warned as he rounded the counter. “But since you promised to cook tonight I’ll be more than happy to let you do so then.”

“Deal,” you said and watched him pass into the hallway.

Bucky’s hand slipped from your shoulder and he gripped the lip of the counter. “You two get along.”

“Figure I should try, considering,” you moved so that the stool was between you.

“It’s gonna start snowing soon.” He said awkwardly. “Calling for a storm next week. Could be snowed in here.”

“Well, maybe that’s a good thing,” you said.

“Maybe,” he reached into one of the bags as he spoke, “I got you this.” He pulled out a bottle of red, “Figured I might as well.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to but… thanks,” you tried to smile. You heard Steve behind you and Bucky’s jaw squared as he looked over your shoulder. “At least let me help unpack.” You insisted as Steve placed the bags beside the others. “I mean, it’ll be something to keep me busy.”

“Twist my arm,” Steve said, “Alright, I’ll get the dishes and you started putting all this away. Bucky, do you mind helping?”

Bucky nodded and blinked slowly. “Any coffee left?” He asked.

“I’ll make a fresh pot,” Steve said as he gathered up the bowls, “But I wouldn’t recommend my oatmeal. There’s probably something better hidden in those bags.”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Bucky muttered, “It was a long ride.”

👁️

You decided that while you weren’t in control, it didn’t mean you were helpless. It only meant that you needed to let those who knew what they were doing take care of it. Bucky and Steve had years of experience in security and combat. You were just a secretary scared for her life. You had no idea what to do or what you were doing.

After the first couple days, it grew easier. You grew comfortable but not complacent. The few times of day you could cook kept you busy enough to distract you. Steve and Bucky were easier to be around as you grew used to them, even just used to having others in your living space. Mostly, you kept to yourself but managed some decent conversation when you ate or stumbled upon each other in the cabin.

It was quiet and you were bored. Again. There were a few books you'd found to read and your doodles had grown frustrating. You decided to take a shower and try to relax. Your isolation made you restless and your restlessness made you think of why you were hidden away in the middle of nowhere.

You locked the door behind you and hung your towel. To your surprise, Bucky had managed to pick out the exact soap you used. You couldn't recall if you'd been finicky enough to have written it on the list. You stretched and undressed. You still didn't sleep very well but it wasn't as if you did very much either.

You stepped under the showerhead as the pipes whined. In the evening, if your keepers were busy, you'd read by the woodstove. The smell was calming and the crackle filled the dead air. Maybe after you would sneak down and try to warm up in front of the fire.

The shower fogged up and you closed your eyes as you scrubbed your body. The smell was reassuring. It reminded you of when your life was normal. It made you think that maybe you could go back to before. That this might end and you might be free to live again.

You let out a breath and cranked the shower off. You pulled back the curtain as the steam cleared and you patted your skin dry before wrapping yourself in the towel. As you picked up your clothes, you froze. You stood and neared the door. Had you not locked it?

It was half-open and let in a draft from the hallway. You poked your head out and peered up and down the hall. Nothing, no one. Well, you were careless, you could've left it unlocked, not pushed it enough for it to catch.

You tiptoed across the hall to your room and pulled the door shut. This time you made sure it was closed though there was no lock on it. You tossed your clothes on the bed and pulled out a new set. Loose sweatpants and a cotton shirt. You needed to do laundry already. Well, another task to keep you occupied.

You pulled on some socks and crept out into the hall. You descended the stairs and listened for any sign of disturbance. Usually the men worked in the dining room or in the small office on the other side of the stairs.

You got to the bottom of the stairs and neared the front door. You looked out at the grey forest. It was supposed to snow that night, that's what Bucky declared at breakfast. You grasped the handle but it would not turn. You reached to the panel just beside you but it rejected your fingerprint with a loud beep.

"Going somewhere?" Bucky asked and you spun to face him, startled.

"No, I just… haven't been outside and I just wanted to… smell the air. I guess that's, uh, weird." You rubbed your hands together.

"It's freezing. You can't go out like that."

You stared at him. "But can I… go out?"

His blue eyes clung to you and his long lashes flicked. He lifted his brow and stepped closer. He stopped and slid your boots over to you with his foot.

"Stay close," he grabbed his coat, "And wear a hat."

He handed you a wool beanie from his coat pocket before he pulled the ends of his hair from beneath his collar. You took your coat, in slight disbelief, and smiled.

"You sure it's okay?"

"Well, you shouldn't be pent up in here for so long and once it snows, you won't wanna go out much at all."

He opened the door as you tucked your hands into your gloves. You stepped out and he followed you closely as the door clicked shut behind him. You tramped down the steps and bounced on your heels at the bottom. It smelled like pine and cold.

Bucky walked evenly across the clearing and you trailed behind him as he neared the trees. He stopped and waited for you to catch up. He waved you ahead of him. "Just follow the path."

He wasn't far behind as you did as he said, the path winding between trees and petering out before a frosty brook that would freeze over with the first snowfall. Your teeth chattered as the looming winter nipped through your layers. You were quiet as you bent to pick up a pinecone and admire its scales.

You felt Bucky watching you as you turned back and walked around the small clearing amidst the trees.

"Hey," you faced him and tossed the pinecone away, "I'm sorry I was so… contrary. I was afraid."

"It's fine," he shooed away your apology with his hand, "I've dealt with worse."

"Sure but… I owe you a thank you, too. You saved me. More than once. And I know I wouldn't be alive without you. So thanks. Really. And… I am trying. I trust you. I know you're going to get this guy."

He gave a small smile and kicked a stone as he came closer. "Well, let me just say, this is one of the only jobs I've been assigned that hasn't been a complete pain in the ass."

You scoffed and resisted your urge to back away from him. "Flattering, really."

"Twenty minutes," he said, "Then we gotta go back… before Steve notices and gets worried. Or worse, he'll think we left him out of some fun."

"Ah," you snorted, "Yeah, wouldn't want him to think that."

👁️

Another day and then another. Time fell as lackadaisical as the snow. At first, it had been a storm but it had slowed to a powdery lull. Neither Steve nor Bucky spoke of the killer and you didn’t dare to ask. What good would it do you to know he had killed another? Or that some other grisly piece of art had been found? Ignorance was bliss or at least solace.

You found yourself moving from room to room. First, your bedroom, then the kitchen for a cup of tea, the living room to feed the stove and watch it burn, and then back upstairs. You ran into Steve on your way up. He seemed distracted if not a bit perturbed. You noticed that in the last day he and Bucky had been quiet. More so than usual.

You continued up to your room and opened your current read; a classic you refused to read in high school and opted for the Sparknotes instead. You laid on your bed, one leg bent under the other as you swayed back and forth. The words didn’t stick in your mind and you found yourself rereading the same page until you clapped the book shut and snarled.

You sat up and tapped your foot on the floor. You heard voices, muffled by your door. You eked it open and slowly approached the top of the stairs. You listened as the argument came clearer.

“Goddamn it, Bucky, after everything I’ve done for you. What the fuck are we here for? Well, what am I here for?” Steve growled.

“Stop yelling, alright.” Bucky snipped. “Have a little fucking patience. You know this hasn’t been easy.” You heard something slam but couldn’t guess at what. “Don’t fucking blow it. Shut up and have a little faith in me.”

There was grumbling but nothing more as a door closed and blocked out the voices entirely. You felt that heat along the back of your neck. The sudden burst of instinctual fear that nestled along your shoulders. The goosebumps that told you that not all was as it seemed. The creeping, inescapable sensation which had lingered for weeks now.

You pushed yourself up to your feet and headed back to your room. It was a stressful mission, you couldn’t blame the two for getting frustrated. That must have been what it was. They were anxious to get this guy and be onto their next mission. You doubted it was their ideal job to be locked away in the snow.

You stopped as your hand fell to your door handle and you peered down the hall into Bucky’s room. The door was mostly open, only a slight angle blocking out part of the room. Slowly, you dragged your hand away from the knob and felt along the wall as you continued down the hall.

His bed was unmade, the pillows strewn about, and a familiar patch of fabric stuck out from beneath one of them. You glanced behind you and took a breath. You took a step inside and waited as if testing it. Would he know? He seemed to know everything.

You placed one foot in front of the other as softly as you could. You leaned a knee against the mattress and reached beneath the pillow. You lifted up your panties and blanched at the little daisies speckles along the cotton. You’d gone all week without a pair, the mystery of their disappearance forgotten as your own carelessness. You mouthed ‘what the fuck’ as you dropped them back to the bed.

You turned around and went to the tall dresser near the closet. You inched the top drawer open; the rest of your panties bunched up with his briefs. The pink pair with the hearts you didn’t dare to touch as dried white strings stained the lacy edge. You slid the drawer shut and gasped as you were suffocated by your shock.

You spun around and peeked out the open door. You heard nothing but the winter gales outside. You rounded the bed and went to the table in the corner; a monitor, a mouse, a keyboard, stacks of folders and papers.

Your fingers shook as you took your wallet from the mess and opened it up. Your cards, your IDs, and even the cash remained within. You put it back and took the envelope that was hidden beneath it. You opened it and flipped through its contents; your college ID from years ago, the one you got replaced after presumably dropping it in the library, your graduation photo, pictures of your family and you… all things you’d thought you lost.

You replaced the envelope and lifted the top of a file. The same drawing as before and several more, each one bloodier, more gruesome than the last until the final one. A metal arm around your neck…

Your hand hit the mouse as you retracted it in disgust and the monitor lit up. The sudden glare stung your eyes. A dozen different frames across the screen; each one a room in the house, including yours and even one in the shower. Bucky and Steve were in the office, deep in conversation.

You let out a shuddered breath as tears pricked.

You moved the mouse slowly and clicked on the file explorer. Folders sorted by date and then another simply labelled with your street name. You hesitated before you selected it. Dozens, maybe hundreds, of video files sorted by date. You bent closer as you clicked on the last day.

You hit double speed as your empty apartment greeted you. Then you came home, poured your wine, then Bucky arrived, you ordered food… You slowed down the footage as you slumped against the arm of the couch. The wine and the terror of that video call had left you senseless.

Bucky stood and pulled you down to lay across the couch. He backed up and watched you for a while then neared you again. You watched in horror as he bent over you and rolled your pants down. He climbed between your legs and buried his head between them. He shoved his metal hand beneath his mouth and your entire body jolted as he fingered.

You gasped as he finished and pulled your pants back up. Then he stood near you and used your hand to pleasure himself. You exited out of the window before your stomach turned entirely. You stood as you looked to the live feed. The office was empty.

You were suddenly pulled back as a rope wrapped around your neck. You kicked out as you were strangled, a figure flush against your back. You flailed and grabbed at the robe as you were shoved towards the bed. The body fell down onto you and the rope tightened.

“Baby girl,” Bucky’s voice slithered in your ear, “It didn’t have to be like this.”

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marshmallow-phd · 6 years ago

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Innocent Intentions

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Supernatural, Wolf Au

Pairing: Tao x Reader

Summary: There was one thing you couldn’t stand in all your years at college: playboys. And the campus was riddled with them. So when Tao - a player with a particularly well-known reputation - inserts himself into your life, you come up with a plan to get rid of him, whether he makes your heart race or not. But the more he’s the around, the more you just might find there’s a hidden layer underneath all the rumors, including a secret you never could have guessed….

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I Final

Had you ever been this sick in your life?

You were pretty sure that the answer was an astounding no. Sweat beaded on your forehead although you were shivering and couldn’t seem to get warm no matter how many blankets you piled on. At the same time, all you could stand to wear was an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of comfortable shorts. Anything else just felt like too much weight on your body.

Your stomach seemed to be on a four hour rotation, letting itself fill up with bile before deciding to empty it all out. The worst part was that after you’d finished throwing up, your body suddenly realized you hadn’t given it any sustenance since yesterday’s dinner. Your stomach growled at you and you growled back at it in a pathetic attempt to show some dominance. You knew if you actually tried to eat something, you’d just be seeing it again soon. Besides, you didn’t have the stamina to walk to the kitchen and stand there while trying to decide what would do the least amount of damage.

For the good part of the morning, you simply lied on the couch, unable to go to sleep but lacking the energy to do anything else. At one point, you did remember to call Mrs. Choi and tell her that is was best for you not to come in today. The last thing the shelter needed was for you to spread this bug around and have all those poor kids running to their shared bathrooms to throw up. Taking care of a couple sick kids was hard enough when the yearly cold made its way around. A whole classroom’s worth would just be chaos. Mrs. Choi was more than understanding and you promised to take an extra shift next week to make it up.

Sometime around noon, you were lying on the couch, watching an old rom com on the TV. It was the same old classic trope: playboy finds the only girl not attracted to his games and falls for her in pursuit of winning her over for the sake of his pride. You snorted to yourself. “Yeah, right.” Like that would ever happen in real life. Jerks were Jerks, frogs were frogs. End of story.

Then you shot up from your lying position. Shit! You were supposed to have another tutoring session with Tao today. A smile crept on your lips and a somewhat evil laugh escaped your throat. Looks like you were able to dodge him after all.

Lying back down on the couch, you settled in even deeper into the blankets, enjoying the silver lining. Then the guilt set in. You should probably at least Jae know that you were sick so Tao wasn’t just sitting there waiting for you. Even if that would be entertaining to imagine.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Jae,” you croaked out. Your throat was sore from all the acid that had been passing through it. Maybe you should grab a glass of water after this. Ugh. That meant moving.

“Whoa, you sound terrible.”

Way to point out the obvious. “Yeah, I’ve got the flu or something. So, tell Tao we’ll have to reschedule.”

“Sure!” There was a little more happiness in Jae’s voice than you really thought was appropriate for this conversation. “Feel better, (y/n). And let me know if you need anything.”

“Sure thing.” You hung up before he offered to bring you soup or something else equally obnoxious. Being babied whether you were sick or not was not an action you took graciously. You were a grownup who could take care of themselves.

A little while later, just as you finally beginning to drift off for a nap, there was a knock on the front door. Groaning, you buried yourself deeper into your blankets, hoping the intruder would just go away. But they didn’t.

Louder and louder they banged, determined to be answered. With a roar of your own and newly fueled by annoyance, you threw the protective cover off of yourself and marched up to the door, swinging it open. “What!”

“Well, hello there.”

Your eyes widened. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Tao smirked. “I came for my tutoring session.”

“I’m sick, you idiot. Jae was supposed to tell you.”

“Oh, he did,” Tao nodded. “But you seem to be fine to me.”

“Are you serious?” you croaked out. You were sweating more than a runner just crossing the marathon finishing line. You were sure that your face was a few shades lighter than normal and you sounded like a fifty year smoker. “I’m pretty sure anyone could take a look at me and know that I’m dying.”

The smirk faded from Tao’s face and his eyebrows knitted together. “Are you running a fever? Is it just a cold or could it be something worse?”

“Why do you ev-”

Just then that all-too familiar churning feeling began to bubble in your stomach. In a flash, you turned on your heels and sprinted for the first floor bathroom, not caring in the slightest that you’d left the front door open for Tao to walk right on in. You barely made it in time to empty out your stomach into the toilet. A coughing fit followed, making the burn in your throat even worse.

“Hey, hey, hey it’s okay,” Tao hushed gently as he crouched down beside you. A heavy hand rubbed up and down your back and you hated how nice that felt.

“Go away,” you grumbled as you wiped away the tears that were stinging your eyes.

“I’m not leaving you like this,” Tao declared defiantly. He stood back, staring down at you with a look that dared you to argue. “I’ll go get you a glass of water. Don’t move.” He was gone from the bathroom before you could open your mouth to protest.

After sitting there in silence for a minute or so just listening to the open and close of cabinet doors and finally the clinking of glass and the sound of running water, Tao came back with a tall cup of water.

“I seriously could have done that myself,” you snapped.

“And yet, I see no glass anywhere in sight.”

Damn it.

Before you could even think of a good comeback, round two started. The sound of the bile hitting the water mixed with your own gagging once nothing else was coming up was just making it worse. This wasn’t a state you wanted to be seen in by anyone, but somehow with Tao here, it was a hundred times worse. You just wanted him to go away and leave you alone. You preferred to stay here in misery without an audience.

“I think that’s the universe telling you to stop arguing with me,” Tao chuckled. Crouching down once again, he held the water out for you. “Just swish the first gulp around and spit it out. Then take a sip to swallow.”

You swiped the glass from his hand, not caring if some spilled on the linoleum floor. “I know what to do.” But when you took that first swig, you could only swish it around your mouth for a few seconds before spitting it out into the toilet. “Ugh. Why is it so warm?”

Tao rolled his eyes. “It’s room temperature. And it’s better for your stomach than ice water. Now, take a few sips. It’ll help sooth your throat.” He placed his fingers on the bottom half the glass, pushing it up to your lips before tilting it back.

Once you’d taken three small gulps, you lowered the glass and wiped your lips clean. Neither of you spoke or even moved. This side of Tao was weirding you out. There was absolutely no hint of his usual flirtation in any of his actions. His eyes reflected pure, genuine concern for your health. Why would he be so concerned for you? He didn’t know you and you doubted the two of you bonded that quickly over a few hours of homework. And you knew nothing about him beyond what Wyatt and Kendall had told you. The two of you weren’t even really friends-

“Wait a second,” you narrowed your eyes at him, all thoughts of gratitude gone. “How the hell did you know where I lived?”

A small dose of the smug attitude was back. “Jace in the front office owed me a favor. It was pretty easy for him to look up your home address.”

You gaped at him. No matter that the idea had once crossed your own mind to track down the boy across from you after he was late for Wednesday’s session. But the difference was that you never did. And you were planning on looking for his class schedule, not his home address. “I’m pretty sure that’s illegal.”

Tao shrugged. “Go ahead and report me.”

“I will.”

“Okay.”

You tried to remain bold, but eventually you just deflated. It wasn’t worth the fight. Tao searched around the bathroom aimlessly with his eyes.

“So, you live with your parents?” he asked nonchalantly.

“Yeah,” you replied defensively. “It’s easier to save money than living in the dorms. You got a problem with that?”

He raised an eyebrow, seemingly confused at your attitude. “No. I live with my family, too. I was just making conversation. You don’t have to be so hostile towards me.”

“You came to my house and are now acting all concerned,” you pointed out. “Sorry if that kind of reads straight out of the playboy’s hand book.”

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to judge someone based on what you hear?”

Well, damn. He had you there.

But it didn’t help that his personality came off the same as the forerunning rumors in that initial meeting. Right now, though, you were definitely getting another side to the playboy and it was messing with your head. Or maybe it was the illness making you susceptible to whatever angle he was playing now.

But he seemed so genuine in his worry for you and it was making you doubt your own assumption. His closeness right now was creating a fog in your mind. Were you starting to see him more clearly or were you just seeing another character he was putting on?

“Come on,” Tao whispered. “You should lie down.” His arms started sliding behind your back and under your knees.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” You put your hands on his chest, stopping him while trying to ignore the warmth radiating from him under his plain white t-shirt. “What are you doing?”

Tao looked stunned. “I was going to take you to the couch.”

You frowned at him. “I can walk still.”

He threw his hands up and backed off. “Sorry.”

With what little strength you had, you pushed yourself off the floor. Your knees wobbled and you became light headed from the sudden elevation, swaying back and forth before catching the rim the of the counter.

“Still not going to let me carry you?” Tao growled.

You threw him a look. “I’m fine.”

Rolling his eyes, he wrapped an arm around your waist and supported most of your weight as you shuffled towards the living room. He let you sit down on the couch by yourself before heading towards the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” you called out after him.

“You need to eat something!” he yelled back.

You jetted out your jaw, irritated. “I can’t keep anything down!” A little quieter, you added, “ Like you weren’t here to see that fact.”

“I did see it! That’s why I’m making you broth!” Tao shouted.

Whirling around on the couch, you stared towards the kitchen with your jaw hanging open. How was he able to hear that? And he was making you broth? At this point, you wanted him to leave so you could stop being so confused. When you sat back down in your seat, you found yourself… smiling?

No. No, no, no. You didn’t like being taken care of like this. You really didn’t like that Tao was the one making you like it. What the hell was wrong with you? Just kick him out already. You were sure if you yelled enough, he’d leave, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

You plastered on a frown and crossed your arms to try and make yourself sour and mad at this whole thing. Fake it until you make it, right?

With a large bowl of steaming chicken broth in his hand, Tao came back to the living room, nudging your leg with his foot for you to move over. You complied, putting a sigh and great reluctance behind it. As carefully as he could, Tao put the bowl down on the coffee table before adjusting the blankets and placing one of them around your shoulders. Crossing his legs so he could face you as he sat down, he picked the bowl and held the full spoon out for you to drink.

Narrowing your eyes, you questioned, “Why are you doing this?”

Tao sighed and lowered the broth to his lap. “Can’t I just be nice?”

“We’re not best friends,” you argued. “I wouldn’t even say that we’re friends. And yet, you’re here trying to feed me. I think any logical person would be questioning why.”

“I like you.”

Your immediate reaction was to go straight into a coughing fit.

Tao nodded. “Not the reaction I was hoping for.”

When you were finally able to breathe right again, you blinked at him. “I’m sorry. Rewind for a second. You what now?”

That confident smirk was making a comeback on his lips as he leaned forward. However, this time, it was softer as he kept eye contact with you. “I like you, (y/n). That’s why I’m doing this.”

“Get out.”

Apparently, he wasn’t expecting that answer as leaned back, blinking. “What?”

“I am not a toy for you to play with,” you spat. “I don’t like playboys, so find someone else to mess with.” The way his face twist up, he almost seemed hurt by what you were saying. That didn’t stop you from marching on, though. “I’m not going to listen to anything that’s not genuine, so just stop while you’re ahead.”

“I’m being serious,” he whined. “I’m not playing a game or just trying to see how far I can get. Let me prove it to you. Can I get at least one chance?”

You opened your mouth just to shut it again. The words leaving his mouth sounded sincere, but you weren’t entirely certain. He was so confusing that you couldn’t get a grip on which version of him was real.

Fine. He was saying that he actually liked you, then you’d let him try. But if there was one thing you knew about playboys, it was this: none of them could commit. As soon as things got serious, they ran. So, you’d show him seriousness, you’d show him commitment. And then you’d sit back and watch him run for the hills, proving you right once again.

“Okay,” you agreed. “Fine. Whatever.”

Tao scoffed, looking off to the side as he shook his head. “And here I thought we’d gotten past judging people.”

You gasped. “I do not-”

Tao took the opportunity to shove the soup filled spoon in your mouth. And it was good, making you momentarily forget about the argument you had lined up for him. It wasn’t just plain chicken broth in that bowl. There was something else in it that gave it an extra flavor.

“What did you put in there?” you asked in awe.

“You’ll just have to eat more and see if you can find out,” he teased. You rolled your eyes, but opened your mouth for more. It was completely out of character for you to allow someone else to feed you, bit if Tao was going to be extreme, then so were you. This was going to be a two player game all the way.

“Okay, I think that’s enough for now,” Tao declared after a few more spoonfuls. “If you can keep that down, then I’ll warm it back up for you.”

Your only answer was a yawn as you stretched. You were exhausted and in desperate need for sleep while your body fought off the virus. For the first time all day, you felt like you could actually take a nap. Leaning back into the couch after shifting in his seat, Tao wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his chest.

“Isn’t this too much?” you mumbled. There was no fight in your body, though, and your voice didn’t give much of an argument either.

“Get some rest,” he whispered.

This was wrong. This was one hundred percent wrong, but your eyes were already closed and your breathing was regulating as your mind gave in to the rest. Tao’s chest shouldn’t be this comfortable. You shouldn’t be feeling so content with his warmth around you. And yet, you easily drifted off, forgetting all the complications and just accepting the current situation. You’d deal with whatever consequences came your way later.

Tao took full advantage of the situation, staring down at you in awe. You looked so content curled up in his side, exactly where you belonged.

He couldn’t believe his luck in convincing you that he truly did have feelings for you. And they were growing each time he saw you. How could someone so defiant and argumentative be so cute? If having you give in to him and let him take care of you took a fight every time, he’d gladly fight with you every day. How could he have ever hated the very idea of this?

When Tao had first headed this way, he doubted that you were even going to be home. He really thought you were just dodging him. Then you opened the door looking like death and his protective instincts took over. But there you went again, doubting his intentions. Who knew he’d ever regret the way he lived his life up until now?

He was going to have to work twice as hard because of that just to prove to you that the two of you were meant to be, that you were his mate and that everything he was feeling towards you was true. You still looked at him with a seemingly impenetrable wall of distrust. It was going to take time and patience to remove each brick. While Tao had plenty of the former, he was still learning the meaning of the latter.

An itching feeling began to tingle in the tips of his fingers. At this angle, he could only see a portion of your face since most of it was buried in his chest (a fact that was making the wolf in his chest purr in absolute ecstasy). Your skin looked so soft from this closeness. Did it feel like the velvet it was impersonating? Tao had never wanted to run his fingers across a cheek so much in his life. Whenever he did it to the other girls, it was out of strategy. It drove every single one of them crazy. This was the first time the urge came with no ulterior motive.

Full of bravery, Tao lifted his free hand that wasn’t keeping you secure to his side and reached out. Just before his fingertips could brush up against your cheek, however, he heard car tires pulling into the driveway. Conflict arose as he wanted to stay, but right now was not the best way to meet your parents or explain this current predicament or why you were fast asleep on him.

As carefully as possible, he unglued you from him - earning a whine from both you and his wolf - and tucked you in comfortably on the couch before sneaking out the back door. He waited on the side of the house for your mother go inside before sprinting to his car that he’d parked a few houses down the street.

His heart was pounding in his chest as an exhilarating feeling pumped through his veins. The adrenaline rush that resulted from sneaking out of your house without being caught couldn’t be explained, but he kind of wanted to do it again. And you’d told him to prove just how much he cared for you, so you could bet he’d be doing a lot more sneaking around here in the near future.

#exo #exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #exo wolf au #exo wolf!au #exo werewolf au #exo werewolf!au #tao x reader #huang zitao #z.tao #tao #exo series #exo supernatural au #Innocent Intentions #untamed wolf universe

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thatdamnokie · 7 years ago

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today, i watched rocknrolla for the first time and kept a running tab of live commentary which can be found below the cut and is a stupid amount of ridiculous and will not make ANY sense unless you’ve also seen rocknrolla and like--have some vague memory of how the movie happens because this was all pretty much stream-of-consciousness or whatever.

yoooo i dig the opening song. okay. off to a good start.

for real thought the dark castle logo was hogwarts fml

is that… mark’s voice?

who is this muscular motherfucker?

LOOK AT THAT FUCKING BONG PIPE THING

that’s as tall as a toddler what the fuck

look at all these people in this movie!

THAT WAS MARK

mr. strong ladies and gentleman

… wait lenny looks super familiar, what else have i seen him in.

this all seems very complicated.

idris and gerard!

counselor’s cute too

why is everyone in this movie so fucking cute

WHERE ELSE HAVE I SEEN THIS GUY

every time mark speaks i jump

wait is that—gerard’s actual accent?

lenny, you are a terrifying dude.

and mark i want to ruffle your hair.

archie, that profile, sweet gracious.

… fuck he’s in the background and i just can’t stop looking at him.

this all sounds very, very complicated.

he calls him “len” omg

“do i look like a fucking immigrant” u h m

okay so pretty sure i don’t like lenny, they should just let archie be the leader

enter the russiannnsss

your sweater is dumb russian guy

i like his accent though

guys i don’t know enough about real estate hustling to be able to explain this to another person

aw sweet russian sweater man giving him his painting

… wait no camera man show me the painting

“whiskey is the new vodka” sure yuri whatever you say

lenny i can shoot whiskey better than you can you fucking bitch

dude you can’t hold your sauce can you?

archie

archie help him

fuck he is so handsome

that jawline

“famous archie smile” I WANNA SEE

dude you need to be nicer to people when whiskey makes you that sweaty?

… i’m sorry but i think i could outdrink arch’s boss???

bless whoever made mark narrator

yooooo stella!

i like her!

dude she looks boss as fuck

“i don’t feel like smiling”

dude a marriage of convenience where you don’t have regular sex sounds awful

“welcome to the—speeler?” did he say speeler?

tom!

some of the names in the opening credits didn’t look familiar but these faces do.

wait is gerard gay or was he making a joke?

that. accent. gracious.

just picture that growling in your ear. fuck, i want a british boyfriend guys. i mean it.

i like the color scheme of all this like everything’s—muted, but still classy?

okay i dig 1-2 and stella’s broship.

can you imagine just calling him twelve to save time

“just a black eye, nothing more.”

dude she has louboutins! or something like them! the ones with the red bottoms, i’m probably misspelling it.

hanging out at the country club. very classy.

arch, you’re all limbs.

… you’re also scary.

duuuuude he has a way of talking that just makes me nervous. like an undercurrent of a threat, things implied…

“in there like swimwear” i’m stealing that.

duuuuude lenny’s robe though?

i got office envy! look at that desk.

WHO FALLS BACKWARDS IN THEIR CHAIR

oh shit they took the painting

… that i still don’t know what it looks like, guys let me see it

len you are boned.

“and archie’s gonna have to go… to work.”

he is literally the tallest dude in every shot.

is he giving him slapping lessons rn.

… yes he is.

oh no

JESUS

ARCHIE

we do NOT HIT PEOPLE

gracious.

i’m torn because on one hand, that would probably really fucking hurt, his hands are probably as big as my fucking face

on the other hand—would i let mark strong slap me?

… maybe.

“but you keep the receipts because this ain’t the mafia”

idrisssss

fuck if he smiled at me like that i’d do whatever he said too

“everybody have fun tonight! <3” :D EVERYBODY WANG CHUNG TONIGHT

“now fuck off”

oh twelve

ugh all the style in this movie.

wardrobe goals.

i want that bag.

“… maybe.” bro you said that like you wanted the d, and i can’t say i blame you.

i like how yuri says london.

for a split second i thought that was tom holland???

ohhhhh what’s gonna happen now!

does everyone just like—drive mark around in these movies

OMG it’s the same money

this shit is hysterical

i want to mess his hair up. because if we were in public he’d probably hate it and tbh i’d be too scared to do it but maybe privately…

guys… i feel like i’d fit into the uk.

ohhhhh an INFORMANT

… oh that dude is cute!

oh that dude is CRAZY

oh, drugs, right. these are the drugs i do not do.

his name is TWELVE archie

see, he’s so good at being quietly threatening

his laugh is so… <3

i think ship stella and yuri—

oh FUCK i forgot she was married

he’s also gay as shit, yuri

dude she just got so sad…

“you devil”

oh duuuuuude

you want that v so bad and it is so obvious

they both have nice hands.

poor bob. :(

twelve you sweet scottish bastard.

UHM

OKAY

that’s a twist.

twelve noooo

dude be cool

DUDE

DUDE THIS IS NOT HOW YOU HANDLE THIS

CALM DOWN

oh my god

duuuuude, twelve.

dude.

bob. bob honey i am so sorry.

is he crying? T.T

TWELVE DO SOMETHING

“no I’M FUCKING SORRY”

YEAH WELL YOU SHOULD BE

a—a poof?

is ‘poof’ a bad word?

guys i don’t know anything about british slang.

bob honey relax…

ohhhhh i’m not sure if that was a smart question to ask right that second.

archie, you’re so classy and wonderful and probably wouldn’t freak out on people like that. probably.

this van gentleman is so delightful ( i am so bad at names rn )

so his nickname is van gentleman.

TANK

there we go.

i like this broship.

in which arch continues to be all. fucking. leg.

OH SHIT

i was NOT PREPARED

��like most things american they’ve eaten the natives” i mean…

i really like his comparison of the crayfish and greed, but like… i also really want bbq now… (have you HAD bbq crayfish? shit’s delicious.)

also HOLY SHIT was not expecting them to be stuck on him like leeches? that’s terrifying.

archie has like—this hidden mercy about him… like he got a weird look on his face and i couldn’t tell if it had to do with the quid dude or putting the other guy back in with the crayfish.

it’s his STEPSON?

ohhhhh an american!

oh he is handsome.

mickey. <3

what else have i seen this rocker dude in…

“ladies of the pole”

mickey’s hat ftw

oh this fedora guy is cute.

JUNE

i love that name AND her bangs!

this movie was a phenomenal soundtrack

aaannnddd definitely thought that dude was masturbating for a second

wait is that the guy from the beginning?

LENNY

... wwwooooowwww

lenny is an ASSHOLE

LENNY

johnny, johnny honey you do not deserve this

why is this movie full of people who deserve better than they got???

LENNY don’t you DARE

that is NOT OKAY

FUCK YOU

gosh, kid, bless your heart…

SHOW ME THIS FUCKING PAINTING

there are so many different accents in this movie and all it’s doing is confirming the fact that i never left my “i want a boyfriend with a nice voice” phase

“guns nuns and cowboys” idk what this bonanza thing is but i’m in

johnny you are very scary and i’m sorry that your stepdad made you like this.

dude stop touching june?

“it’s tasty and exotic—a bit like your june.” lenny you’re disgusting.

that’s an intense line of questioning, lenny.

this fucking painting.

ARCHIE

STOP FUCKING WITH THE MICROPHONE

oh my god

i literally just want him to never stop talking

omg bob.

dude twelve looks piiiiiiissed.

i think… i missed a part of the plot.

guys i want to be a part of this world but i’m only able to say that because no one’s very asked me to like… torture someone.

or sleep with someone gross.

victor you handsome bastard.

russian is such a guttural language i love it

FUCK YOU LENNY

at least you’re getting better at shooting your whiskey? fucking asshole.

like i like him less and less because he’s just GROSS you guys

jk could still outdrink him.

if you touch archie lenny i will reach through his screen and rip your face off.

i really wouldn’t be threatening someone who could snap you in half but okay

who the hell is cookie?

you look like a one-many party

omg where are your pants

cookie i love you you disaster of a man

omg i want to be invited to one of these parties

like just let me relax in a corner with an old fashioned and a cute boy

OHHH THEY FUCKED

OKAY

that explains a lot

dude bob that’s—okay but like they thought he was going to prison, that was just an accident

wait does archie know?

dude stella i want to be your friend so you can help me with my wardrobe

… twelve. twelve what are you doing.

stella looks so fucking unimpressed

YEAH BECAUSE SHE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING

dude, stella, girl, i’m sorry

at least one of you can dance

oh bertie you gay as shit

stella why did you marry this man

i like this closed captioning thing they’re doing.

who. is. the. informant.

“and remember—i *am* dangerous.” yes you are baby.

bertie you are so awkward

bob. bobby no. D:

BOB

oh bertie don’t act like you didn’t like getting bossed around i saw it in your face

y’all he is fucking ENAMORED

i’d go see this guy live.

that bouncer wasn’t fucking around. one hit knockouts.

… john. johnny. what are you doing

JOHNNY DO NOT STAB THE BOUNCER

HE IS MAKING ME SO NERVOUS

HOLY SHIT

JOHNNY

ALL RIGHT COOL LET’S JUST SHANK THE BOUNCER

johnny you are batshit crazy

“fucking mutt” wait, what does that mean?

mumbles is a handsome man.

ohhhh this is an awkward conversation.

“made a pass.” right.

ohhhh. oh he knows.

twelve, dude, i’m sorry.

he looks so uncomfortable.

but hey like this means they didn’t fuck so that’s a thing?

boooob, sweetheart. <3

they’re all such good mixes of good and evil.

except lenny. fuck lenny.

ooooo that lady has pretty hair.

oh wait THAT’S cookie?

then who was pantsless homie?

this movie has such a big cast and i can keep track of like four people.

this club lounge place looks cool though.

he helped him get off the rock? that’s pretty rad.

p.s. this movie has a great soundtrack tbh.

all the same kiddos maybe just stick to weed and the occasional hallucinogens

say no to cocaine and crack

oh, johnny. :(

buddy.

holy SHIT this guy’s scars though!

DUDE

how many scars do these russian guys HAVE

… ADJNSJANSOAPSLKKJADSM

TRAIN

OKAY

WAIT NO TRUCK

JESUS

… more scars i guess?

… wait i wonder if archie has scars like that?

ohhhhh noooo yuri.

yuri did your friends die?

LENNY you’re racist and i do not like you.

oooohhhh why do i feel like so many bad things are gonna happen in the last part of this movie.

twelve you’re limping my baby who hurt you

… oh

THAT is who hurt you

also i ship those two russian guys

i like how stella was apparently just watching the entire thing from a distance

and then has the audacity to critique him lmfao

holly shit right into a STOREFRONT

dude NONE of y’all are having a good day

this entire scene is fucking—something else

guns

knives

golf clubs

just

anything you can pick up and use as a weapon at all

WHAT THE FUCK

ARE THESE DUDES JUST INDESTRUCTIBLE

“ABANDON SHIP RUN FOR YOUR LIVES”

YEAH BITCH AGREED

OH SHIT COPS

BOB ARE YOU JUST GONNA WAVE LIKE THEY’RE YOUR BROS

THIS IS STRESSFUL

PARKOUR

bob you look like a puppy

and twelve looks like a zombie

and then there’s mumbles who just stole the coolest bike helmet i’ve ever seen

twelve, honey, you just can’t catch a break

dude russian guy is fucking RIPPED

kudos to who did the cinematography of this because it looks fucking cool

this is the slowest high-intensity chase i’ve ever seen

ripped and covered in blood. i dig it.

twelve you faker

oh hi ruskies

archie do you own any clothing that’s not black, grey or blue…?

fuck i love that jacket, but it’s so long it just makes him look even taller

LENNY

YOU NEED TO NOT BE SO FUCKING RACIST?

and get your hands off his testicles!

gracious.

everyone in this movie needs jesus.

johnny stop calling him pedro.

can…. can i see the painting please.

please.

guys.

this poor scottish guy.

yuri got cake.

johnny… sorta reminds me of freddie mercury in some of these shots? for like a few seconds at a time.

… okay so i’m full of dread between this monologue and what’s happening on the golf course.

lenny. buddy. you really got like. not do that. stop calling everyone immigrants

OH SHIT

GET HIM

GET HIM VICTOR

YOU GO BABY

this is a weird juxtaposition in terms of scenes though?

lenny getting his legs beat

and johnny’s super sad speech about the cigs

dude i can’t bring myself to feel bad for len.

wait where’s archie?

“and that is also why i cannot give that painting back.”

this is a set up for something really really bad.

and then they have moments where they act like dudes i know and i warm up to pete and johnny.

bobby stop fucking with that poor man. you’re gonna make him fall in love with you.

“i’m going back to bed.” “can i come?”

*smack* okay, that shit was funny.

johnny you need some chicken.

oh these motherfuckers.

… guys i wanna be a rocknrolla

lmao a protest

that flat looks disgusting.

dude you need to treat your bro better

ASJANSJASN

THEY TOOK THE PAINTING

CAN I SEE IT

LET ME SEE THIS FUCKING PAINTING

OH MY GOD THIS IS GREAT

if this movie ends without me seeing this fucking painting i’m going to kill someone

good man cookie.

TANK’S WATCHING P&P

COOKIE YOU DA REAL MVP

gerard’s laugh though

… well then

like if she wasn’t so unhappy in her marriage i’d feel bad

THE INFORMANT YES TELL ME

… sydney shaw?

“where did he learn a word like pseudonym?”

awwww he likes her…

oh she likes him!

okay good because that sex didn’t look romantic at all.

“you’ve got very good taste mr. one-two.”

lenny fuck you.

you’re gonna be alive for like three more years, relax.

archie. <3 that protectiveness—even if it is for lenny.

aaannnnddd enter the russians.

what a clustfuck.

wait TWELVE

DAMNIT TWELVE

OPEN YOUR EYES

… oh you are FUCKED

ooosajdnaksdjnajsdna this is anxiety-inducing

y’all this is why drugs are bad

and then nice outside scene. birds chirping. looks like a lovely day.

oh shit ARCHIE WITH A GUN

there’s no way that twelve is still alive

what the FUCK

am i SEEING

dude archie, me too

omg ARCHIE HELP HIM

that SMILE

dude i’d laugh too

OH SHIT

welp.

okay, we all figured archie was gonna kill people

put your FUCKING TONGUE BACK IN YOUR MOUTH

wait he SHOT TWELVE?

omg everything is happening at once.

wait, stella, what’d you do?

OMG

dude she looked FREAKED OUT

yuri… dude, what are you doing…?

UHM

WHAT

WAIT

WHAT IS HAPPENING

STELLA YOU LITERALLY FUCKED TWELVE LIKE A SECOND AGO

ohhhhhhhhhh

ohhhhhhh noooooo

ohhhhh NOOOOO

oh stella, honey you in danger girl

archie looks a thousand percent done and he’s been around this kid thirty seconds

wait archie was in prison?

this sydney shaw person put arch in prison…

duuuuuude younger!archie ;-;

“uncle arch” T.T

WHAT the fuck, lmao

just whipping out his gun, nbd

archie stop that. they’re babies.

johnny man you’ve—been fucked up for a while.

dude archie you look miserable.

ohhhh nobody died.

THANK YOU ARCHIE

GET HIM

i hate this entire family.

who all is about to die in this weird basement silent hill place.

… dude. johnny’s face though.

like i’ve felt like NO sympathy for lenny this entire time but i feel bad for johnny. :/

“a hot bath and a cold razor”

… dude

“because you’re poison john.”

o u c h

but like he is CRAZY

help i don’t know who to feel for

i feel for everyone

… except lenny

OH SHIT

WHAT THE FUCK

LENNY

JESUS

DUDE

HE IS GOING TO KILL HIS OWN STEPSON

what the fuck is happening.

YES THE INFORMANT

wait.

WAIT.

IT’S FUCKING LENNY????

OH MY GOD

“you are a VERY dirty bastard sydney.”

WHAT THE FUCK

WHAT

THE

FUCK

STOP KILLING EVERYONE

I CANNOT DEAL WITH THIS

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

NO NO NO NO THIS ISN’T WHAT I WANTED

this is STRESSFUL

“put your hands up!”

*thud*

okay that was funny

THE BOYS!

oh, archie.

oooohhhhh… all this shit…

archie. fuck, you can hear the betrayal in his voice.

shit, this is sad.

“there is no spring without a winter. no life without death.”

… archie?

oh a time skip!

oh SHIT johnny got a GLO UP

“c’mon then give us a cuddle”

i’ll GLADLY you give you a cuddle

OH MY GOD THE PAINTING

SHOW ME

S H O W M E

… you literally put those russian guys in pieces, didn’t you archie.

you terrifying motherfucker.

GUYS I WANT TO BE IN THIS WORLD

FUCK YOU GO GET THEM JOHNNY

... wait was there supposed to be a sequel?

… WAIT

WAIT NO

YOU FUCKING SHOW ME THAT GOD DAMN PAINTING

oh my god.

fuck it.

fuck that.

nope.

like mid-credit scenes are the least y’all can do.

… wait is that tom and gerard just like fucking with each other, it might be, that’s sort of adorable.

dude that gay club looks like fun though.

i don’t dance because i’ll spill my drink but.

awwwww guys i could watch them dance forever, like, this shit is funny.

ohhhh i hope this means that archie becomes the new lenny. he’d be a much better lenny.

and now we sway to this groovy end credit music while i sit and seethe in hatred that i never saw the painting and i’m pissed about it. :))))))

… fuck.

welp, guess i’ll just have to write shit about how the fuck this dude falls in love with a cop then.

#rocknrolla #commentary #mark strong

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prettyfunkyunorganized · 7 years ago

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If Things Had Been Different - Gabe pt 3

The lovely @zarcake-writes inspired me to keep going with this one, so have some more pre-fall Gabriel and baby Sonya. She’s finally here! And not doin’ so good. Because I’m cruel. A bit over 3,000 words.

WARNINGS: premature babies, struggling newborns, talk of drugs, talk of infant death. Sorry peeps. No one is dying on my watch though! I ain’t that evil. Yet.

More If Things Had Been Different - Gabe: pt 1, pt 2

Reaper’s Original Daughter Series: pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5

It was another night camped out by the NICU – Neonatal Intensive Care Unit – for Gabe. He’d been here every day for a month, and things didn’t seem to be getting much better. When little Sonya was born, he’d been at the base. And it had happened over a month early. By the time he arrived, a doctor had been waiting for him with a very, very grave face. Everything was a blur of confusing medical terms with occasional blurbs he understood.

‘Premature.’

‘Difficult delivery.’

‘Decreased lung function.’

‘Ventilator.’

‘Incubator.’

‘Opioid addiction.’

Fucking opioid addiction.

Thank god Ruby was in some rehab facility far away, because Gabe wanted to strangle her. His daughter was born addicted to fucking heroin.

He’d never been so angry in his life.

Or destroyed, just utterly demolished inside. The first time Gabe saw his little girl she was in another room, in what looked like a terrifying glass cage, tubes hooked up to her tiny body with a giant one strapped to her mouth, all sorts of sensors and . . . things stuck to her. She was so tiny.

And beautiful. Trembling, discolored, and flailing about wildly, but stunning.

There was a wash of baffling emotion and Gabe instantly knew he loved that little bundle more than anything else in existence. Nothing would ever be more important to him, ever.

Since then, there had been innumerable conversations with doctors, nurses, and Jack. Gabe was doing his best to juggle Overwatch, Blackwatch, and itty bitty Sonya, but it was proving daunting. That other month to prepare would have been great, but too damn bad. Being a father was about manning up and doing what was necessary. Somehow he managed to get a little apartment and a very expensive nanny set up, but now they just waiting for his daughter to come home to, but not yet.

Still, not yet.

Hell, he still hadn’t held his baby properly. The nurse had tried to hand Sonya over to him once, but her tremors had spiked so terribly that they put her right back in the incubator. Gabe had flat-out cried, unabashedly. He just wanted to be close to her, comfort her, tell her to hold on and show her how loved she was. But no. She was too sick. Struggling too much. So much more than any infant should.

At least he was able to rub her back and belly a few times, his hands slipped through the holes in Sonya’s little cage. Her heartbeat had evened out a bit at the contact, but Gabe had the bigger reaction – falling all over himself laughing and beaming when Sonya grabbed his finger.

Even fighting for her life, she was perfect.

With a deep sigh, Gabe leaned against the window and gave a small wave to the head nurse on duty. Andrew, his name was. Good guy. Kind, caring, all that good stuff and, somewhat surprisingly, just huge. Ripped, over 6 ft tall, and hands that could hold four regular sized babies, much less the little preemies in his charge. Incredibly gentle though.

Andrew waved back, holding up one finger as a signal that he would be out soon. Hopefully that was good news.

“God I hope so,” Gabe sighed, trying to pop his back.

“Perhaps if you got some proper sleep, you wouldn’t grimacing like that,” a familiar voice came from behind.

He twisted around to see Ana and Jack walking toward him. It looked like Jack didn’t want to be here, and Ana was in the mood to start shit – which Gabe could not handle tonight. Why the hell were they here?

“You do look tired, Gabe,” Jack said standing beside his friend.

“I am,” Gabe responded flatly, “but I’m not going to sit in my office and do paperwork when I could do it here, watching my baby girl.”

“You know, when I had Fareeha everyone told me that a little separation is a good thing,” Ana said snarkily, eyeing Gabe, “why don’t you – ”

“Stop,” he snapped, Gabe’s hands clenched in sudden anger. “This is different, and you know it, Ana. All I’ve had is separation! I can’t feed her, I can’t hold her hand, I can’t kiss her forehead – hell! I can’t even be in the same room as her! My Sonya is a month old, and I’ve never even held her!”

“Wait,” Jack butt in with a frown, “still?”

“Still! But ya know what,” Gabe said leaning off the wall and taking a step closer to Ana, staring her down as she began to worm away a bit, “despite the fact that I have to bond with my newborn child through the plaster, I’m still at work nearly every day, planning missions, reading dossiers, and managing my team. If that’s not enough separation for you, you can kiss my ass and tell me – ”

“Gabe,” Jack said tentatively, trying to stop the situation before it got even more heated, but it was too late.

“AND TELL ME,” Gabe repeated through a tight jaw, “how did you feel when people were telling you how much to hold your child? How would you have felt if doctors had told you that little Fareeha was too weak to breathe when she was born? That she couldn’t stop shaking or stop vomiting or hyperventilating? My Sonya’s lived most of her life with a fever and has already had more morphine than most people will have in their whole lives! Don’t fucking talk to me like I’m doing something wrong, because I’m doing the best I can in a situation you can’t even fathom. Fareeha was born healthy and stable and ready to come into the world. Sonya wasn’t. So yeah, I’m here at the hospital a lot, but no more than you were in Fareeha’s nursery when she was this young.”

Ana took a deep breath and put her hands up in surrender once Gabe had finished. She wasn’t one who liked to admit she was wrong, but she stood down this time, keeping her lips tightly pressed together. Gabe only huffed and turned back to Sonya.

The three old friends stood side by side silently, not sure where to go from this tense state, but eventually, Jack spoke up again, soft and understandingly.

“Any idea when you will be able to take her home?”

“No,” Gabe murmured, “she’s had a few good days, but her lungs have been holding her back.”

“Poor kiddo,” Jack whispered, shaking his head. “She’s got so much . . . stuff hooked up to her.”

“I know. I know . . .”

Jack all of a sudden snorted out a rough laugh, making Gabe frown at the blonde man confusedly. “Sorry,” Jack said with a small laugh, “it’s just that she has so much hair! I don’t think I had that much until I was like seven.”

Gabe burst out laughing. “Yeah, she gets that from my side of the family. Definitely a little Reyes.”

“That she is,” Jack said with a smile, “and if she’s got half as much strength as you and the rest of your family, she’ll pull through.” He put a hand on Gabe’s shoulder and squeezed firmly. “I have faith in her.”

“Thanks, Jack,” Gabe said, letting himself relax a bit.

“You were right,” Ana said quietly, “I can’t imagine going through this.” Her eyes were locked on Sonya as she spoke. “I knew things were bad, but . . . I shouldn’t have insinuated that you were doing anything wrong or that you shouldn’t be here. I overstepped, and . . . I’m sorry.”

Both of Gabe’s eyebrows leaped up. Ana? Apologizing? Damn! She was a proud woman and apologized to no man – which was great, Gabe absolutely loved that about her. It also made her apology twice as meaningful.

The two men exchanged an impressed glance then grinned in perfect unison. Of course they had to give her a little shit, too. Just a little.

“Um,” Gabe smirked, “what was that? Could you say that again?”

“Wait, wait, wait! Let me get my phone,” Jack said grabbing at his pockets. “I gotta record this!”

“Oh, fuck you guys,” she said rolling her eyes, smiling playfully.

And just like that, all was forgiven again, the air around the three of them light again.

“Well, we just wanted to see how you were holding up,” Jack said with a stretch, “but I suppose we’ll head back to the base. Unless you need some company?”

“No, no,” Gabe said shaking his head, “I really do have a big old stack of paperwork I should be doing right now. I’d like to be a bit more caught up when Sonya is cleared to go home. I’m hoping I can take a few more days off, if that’s possible. Even just two or three would be amazing.”

Jack nodded furiously. “Of course, Gabe. You’re still entitled to all the paternity hours you would have received if things had happened more, uh, traditionally. Things are a bit more complicated since you’re heading Blackwatch, but we’ll cover for you as much as we can.”

“Yeah,” Ana agreed. “I can run those loons of yours through some proper drills, do some proper survival training with ‘em. That’d keep a bunch of your guys busy for a while.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Gabe said nodding slowly.

“I know,” Ana said in a sarcastically smug tone. “Just let me know when you want me to whip them into shape.”

“You just tell us what you need, and we’ll figure something out,” Jack said slapping Gabe on the back, “and for Christ’s sake, sleep in a bed, man. I know you want to stay close, and I think that’s great, but take six hours out of the workday if you’ve got to. Your fucking eyebags are sticking out as far as your damn cheekbones.”

“I’ll crash soon, I promise,” Gabe replied with a chuckle.

“Good, good. You should be glad Angela didn’t come with us,” Ana said, “she would be lecturing you into the ground right now.”

“Oh she sends me a long, scolding email every day,” Gabe groaned.

There were a few more goodbyes and some wishes of good luck, but soon Gabe was alone in the hall again. Unfortunately, the glaring fluorescent lights and hospital-y smell seemed more oppressive now. The loneliness was creeping in again. Maybe he should have kept his friends around a little longer.

“Mr. Reyes,” someone said, pulling Gabe from his meandering thoughts.

“Yes, Andrew” he replied, rubbing his eyes before looking up to see the large nurse in front of him.

“I’ve got an update for you.” The smile on the man’s face made Gabe’s heart feel a little lighter.

“What’s up?”

“Sonya’s lungs have responded to the newest treatment wonderfully,” Andrew said, “We were going to remove her ventilator and give you another chance to hold her again.”

Gabe straightened up and was at least twelve times more alert. “Seriously? I can hold her?”

“We’re hoping so,” Andrew said with a nod. “We are going to see how she does breathing on her own, just give her a few minutes, but then if she’s doing well, we will let you in. At the very least you can have a bit of physical contact tonight.”

The wave of relief that wrapped around Gabe was practically euphoric.. “That would be incredible, Andy, thank you.”

“Of course, Mr. Reyes. We’ll start as soon as I get back in. If you see or hear anything unusual, don’t panic. This is a big step for her, and she’ll need to adjust.”

He nodded eagerly, eyes glued to Sonya as the staff gently handled her. It was a frightening thing to watch, but there wasn’t any panic. Holy shit, she was doing okay. She was okay! She was actually getting better! Maybe the end of this constant terror was finally in sight.

A few minutes passed slowly by before Andrew looked up with a smile, gesturing to the door. Gabe had never sprinted so fast in his life.

“She’s alright, right,” Gabe asked before Andrew could get a word out, but the nurse only laughed.

“Yes! Sonya’s doing fantastic, we’re feeling excellent about her progress over the past few days. All upward motion.”

“Thank God,” Gabe whispered, rubbing his tired face.

“Hopefully a little snuggling will help her out, too. Come on,” Andrew said waving Gabe in.

Stepping into an intensive care unit always made Gabe’s stomach clench, but being in a room specially designed to keep struggling babies alive just tore him apart inside. No matter how excited he was to hold his Sonya, he knew there as still a chance that the children around him might not ever leave this room alive.

“Are you feelin’ okay,” Andrew asked, rousing Gabe out of his sickening stupor.

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed. “Where do you want me?”

“Right here,” Andrew said patting a chair beside Sonya’s incubator.

Gabe settled himself, automatically leaning toward her. She was looking at the world much more alertly than she was the last time he was here. The staff said that was normal for addicted newborns, but it was still severely disconcerting watching her have no reaction to touch or sounds. Now, she was wriggling about like any other infant.

“She’s more active now,” Gabe said as Andrew approached. “That’s good, right?”

“Very good,” he nodded in response, reaching down to lift Sonya.

A sudden, worried tightness tightened Gabe’s gut. Did he know how to hold her right? His baby training was such a crash course . . . What if he didn’t support her head right? What if he supported her head too much? What if he did something and made her regress? What if something happened and all that progress was destroyed?

“Stop panicking,” Andrew said with a poorly hidden smirk.

“Wha-what,” Gabe said, his voice cracking embarrassingly.

“I have handed babies to scared moms and dads for years, so I am very well trained in spotting panic. Just hold out your hands, be mindful of her neck, and be gentle. You’ll both be fine, I promise! And I’ll be close by the whole time.”

Of all the things the Blackwatch commander had ever done, having Sonya placed in his arms for the first time was by far the most intimidating. And the most amazing. She was all bundled up in a tight little package, but Gabe could still feel how warm she warm she was, how soft. Her eyes wandered a bit, but kept roaming back to her father, which made him melt. Her eyes were stunning – dark and gorgeous and massive. Her chubby little arms seemed fascinated with the feel of his shirt but didn’t quite have the control to grab it. She was fumbling about the world, and it was incredible to watch.

He loved her. He loved her so much. Her scent, her curiosity, the way her body felt in his arms.

This was perfection, utter –

A series of beeps started bleeping away on the other side of the room, drawing everyone’s attention and making Sonya squeak in protest. Gabe held her tighter, bringing her a little closer to his face, murmuring soft reassurances, but his kind words fell flat when Andrew went darting over to the other incubator.

Something was very wrong with the other infant. Orders were being barked, and syringes were being grabbed. How could a baby that small need that much . . . whatever that was? It took a full five minutes before the frenzy ended and no one looked optimistic at the end of it all. Gabe had shifted Sonya to lay on his chest without thinking. He was pressing soft kisses into her perfectly round cheeks, half trying to keep her calm and half trying to calm himself.

“Is everything alright,” Gabe asked as another nurse came to his side. Andrew was still busy with the other baby.

“For now,” the woman said with a sigh.

“Do I need to leave,” he asked worriedly, desperately hoping he wouldn’t have to.

“No, not yet,” she responded with a weak smile, “Sonya needed some time with her dad. We firmly believe time with parents is one of the best treatments of all.”

Gabe swallowed hard before asking his next question, steeling himself for a possibly terrible answer. “I’ve gotta ask,” he began, “Andy was telling me that Sonya’s been doing better, but is she . . doing well enough? Is she gonna, well – Christ – is she gonna make it?”

“Mr. Reyes,” the older woman said putting a hand on his shoulder, “Sonya is getting stronger every day, made leaps and bounds over the last few days! She knows there’s more out there and she wants to see it. I absolutely think she’s going to be out of here, and soon, too. Just give her a little more time.”

“I will, of course. Anything she needs, she’ll get it, I just . . . I really needed to hear that,” Gabe said softly, pressing his head against Sonya’s. Every fiber of him wanted to hug her until the end of time.

“I understand,” the nurse nodded, “you just snuggle that sweet girl for now, and we’ll try to let you stay as long as we can.”

“You’re going to have to drag me away,” Gabe teased gently, nuzzling Sonya and grinning as her eyes went wide at the new sensation. It was painfully adorable.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” the nurse snorted oddly seriously while walking away.

“You think I can take ‘em,” Gabe whispered to his daughter jokingly. “We could make a run for it, you and I. Just book it for the door and keep running ‘til we get home. Would you like that? We’d get you out of this abysmal little room and show you some sunlight, play you some music. I bought you so many stuffed animals! Your nanny thinks I’m nuts, and, let’s be honest, she’s right, but how could I not spoil the most beautiful baby in the world?”

Sonya wormed in a way that seemed agreeable, and Gabe laughed.

“Oh my itty bitty Sonya, mi tesoro, mi cielito,” he hummed happily, “you’re everything I’ve ever needed, aren’t you? Feels like all I’ve been doing the past few months is get more and more empty, but you – you!” He rubbed his curly mustache on her forehead and Sonya made a cute little grunt. “Everything about your just feels good, mija. Except that you’re sick, of course, but look at ya – my tiny fighter. You’re a strong one, aren’t you? You’ll get through this. We will. We’re both going to get better, I can feel it. Give it a few days, and we’ll be holed up in our new home, forgetting all about this nastiness. I know it. I promise. I love you, Sonya. So, so much.”

@collinssie @zarcake-writes @watch-your-grammer

#mine #writing #overwatch #overwatch drabble #drabble #my drabble #gabe #sonya #jack #ana #if things had been different #daughter series

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claitynroberts · 7 years ago

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Captain Hook & Rapunzel

Part 2 of 3 —> Part 1 Part 3

Description: Reader insert. The reader has been a member of Team Free Will for a year now. During an unexpected lull in jobs recently, you, Sam, Dean and Cas decide to attend Jo’s themed birthday party. During the events of the night, cards are shown and things definitely take an unexpected turn.

Author’s Note: This fic was written for @eyes-of-a-disney-princess and her Rapunzel’s Tangled Up With Supernatural Challenge, and it is my first ever reader insert, as well as SPN fanfic. I’ve tried so hard to authentically portray the beautiful characters of the series, but I’m only human so please bear with me! I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Contains: angst, some language, fluff, potential bad decisions, physical fighting/violence

Warnings: physical violence, taking advantage of a drunk female (the reader) is mentioned but never acted on thanks to a big muscular hunk ;)

If you find any other triggers that may affect readers please let me know and I’ll add them here

Word Count: 7,106...sorry, it’s so long :D

*This pic isn’t mine, credit to the owner’s and Google Images

——

A couple hours later the three of you were walking in the front door of Harvelle’s Roadhouse. The bar was worn and shabby, but it was like a second home. The well worn bar stools, the smooth wooden bar top, the pool table in the back corner, and the jukebox against the wall were like old friends. Looking around, you noticed the bar was full; not busting at the seems packed, but there were a substantial amount of people here. Immediately your hackles went up, you did not like being around so many people at once—especially strangers.

Unconsciously, you drifted closer to Dean. He must have noticed because his right arm came to rest across your shoulders squeezing you in a half hug with his hook-free hand. “It’s okay, (y/n). They’re good people.” After a moment he added, “Well, most of them anyway.”

“Dean, I’m not sure—,” you began, not catching the hidden meaning behind his words.

He cut you off, “Listen everything is going to be okay. Have a drink and loosen up. We caught a break in cases and by God, we’re going to enjoy it. Especially since you made me dress up and drive two hours to be here.” He chuckled with a grin on his face.

“(Y/n)!!” You heard a voice yell across the bar. Before you knew it you were being wrapped up in a tight hug, the scent of lavender and gunpowder invading your senses.

“Jo...can’t...breathe.” You gasped out.

She pulled away and looked at you, taking in your’s and the boys’ costumes. “Okay let me guess here. Rapunzel,” she made a sweeping motion of your outfit. “Captain Hook,” she said pointing at Dean. Chuckling she looked to Sam, “obviously Prince Eric.” Then a confused look crossed her face as she looked over at Cas. “Umm, evil henchman?”

Well she gave it a shot, you thought. “Actually, he’s Aladdin. Y’know, pre-Genie and princely wish.” You said matter of factly.

As she glanced between you, Sam, and Dean, a look of understanding passed over her face. “Oh of course! I see it now! Great job, Cas.” He grinned like a fool, and you resisted the urge to face-palm.

After a tense moment, Jo grabbed you by the arm. “(Y/n), let’s go do shots. I’ll bring her back later boys.” You were being whisked away, trailing a look at Sam, Dean, and Cas over your shoulder. Dean smirked, and, before the crowd swallowed you up and cut him off from you, you swore you saw him wink.

The next thing you knew, you were being handed a Jager-bomb—your’s and Jo’s favorite drinks, a “deadly” concoction of Redbull and Jagermeister. If this doesn’t loosen me up, nothing will, you thought to yourself as you gulped the mixture down.

“So how has life been?” Jo asked.

“Good. Calm. Strange.” You replied, looking over at her. She was dressed in a comfortable pair leggings beneath a yellow skater skirt and a navy colored top with cap sleeves. A black bobbed wig bounced as she nodded her head.

“Yeah, this drop in paranormal sightings and cases has been weird,” she agreed, “But I’m definitely going to take advantage of it.” She punctuated the sentence with a straight whiskey shot. A wide grin split her face.

“You are you supposed to be dressed as,” you asked.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m Snow White.” She grinned, brandishing her iPhone at me. On the screen a small printout of a “virus detected” dialog box was taped to it. “Get it?” She asked. “A poisoned apple?” She was grinning.

“That’s actually pretty clever,” you said.

She waved your compliment off. “So how has it been with the boys?” She asked.

You thought for a moment. “Good. After the attack a few months ago, they helped give my life meaning. A purpose. For now, at least.” Flashbacks from the night flickered through your mind.

Being the first college graduate in your family was a big deal, and all your family members—both immediate and distant—attended the reception your parents threw in your honor. There were so many people present, it could have been considered one hell of a family reunion instead. Everything was going well, people were getting along and congratulating you, cake was eaten, presents opened. Then toward the end of the night, the whole clan turned on each other. There were fights breaking out everywhere.

“She’s mine!” Someone shouted as a chair was broken across another’s back.

A few feet away another stated, “I shall be the one to bring her to King Crowley.”

While you were attempting to make sense of all the commotion, some others advanced on you. They had tried to kill you, but you were able to fight them off with one of the tiki torches nearby. Only when Sam and Dean showed up did you realize they were all possessed by demons. The lucky ones were saved with exorcisms, others had to be put down quickly with the demon blade—your parents falling into the latter category. Now large groups of people made you extremely nervous.

Effectively an orphan, the boys took you in. None of you knew why you were important enough for Crowley to send an army of demons to kill you; but you all figured your best bet was for you to stay with them for the time being.

Snap, snap. Jo clicked her fingers in front of your face. “Are you sure you’re okay, because you seem to be a million miles away right now.” She looked concerned.

You shook yourself from you daze. “Yeah, I’m great!” You replied with as much exuberance as possible.

Quirking her eyebrow, she gave your her “bullshit” look but didn’t say another word. She poured both of you a shot of whiskey this time. “So they give your life ‘meaning’,” she said as you both threw back the shot. “Nothing else is going on there, then?” She smirked and poured another.

“Nope nothing.” You said, throwing back the amber liquid.

Another shot was poured. “You sure? Because it seems like you and Dean have a little something going on behind the scenes.” She wiggled her eyebrows, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

You both slammed the shot back, but you took your time swallowing. Letting the liquid burn a path across your tongue and down the back of your throat to add to the growing warmth in your stomach.

Before you could answer her knowing look with a biting retort, Ash cut in. “Sorry (y/n) but do you mind if I steal the birthday girl for a dance?” He asked looking over at Jo. She agreed but as she left she cut a glance over at Dean, wagging her eyebrows again and giggling, letting you know the conversation was not over. Thankful for the momentary reprieve you ordered a beer and sat there examining the room. Dean was across the bar playing pool with Sam and some scantily clad girls whom you could only assume were dressed as the fates from Hercules.

“Let me guess, you’re Cinderella?” A gruff voice came from beside you. Normally you would have jumped a little more at the interruption, but the alcohol was slowing your reflexes which you were thankful for.

“Why does everyone keep saying that,” you said exasperatedly, as you turned toward the intruder ready to give him a what-for. The voice belonged to a handsome young man dressed in worn jeans, a red-plaid flannel with a white Henley thermal, and an air rifle slung over his shoulder. His face was angular with dark brown eyes, a straight roman nose, and full lips; he hadn’t shaved in a few days so a light beard was growing along the angles of his chin, and dark hair flopped over his forehead and into his eyes.

Clearing your throat you replied, “actually, I’m Rapunzel. But my friends call me (y/n).”

“I’m the Huntsman, but I tend to occasionally go by Derek.” He grinned and extended his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” you took his big hand in yours to return the gesture.

“How about I buy you a beer?” He asked.

“Sure, why not.”

You and Derek spoke for a long while. Long enough for you to lose count of the drinks you had had. After covering the basic general information two strangers normally share with each other, the conversation moved on to life, politics, dreams, and whatever else came to mind. As the night wore on, you and Derek became closer, allowing small touches between the two of you. A hand brush here, an arm squeeze there, until you were standing between his legs as he sat on the barstool. You caught Jo’s eye from time to time, and she just looked back at you with her huge grin.

Vaguely, you realized Dean had been staring at the two of you from his place at the pool table across the bar. During the course of your conversation with Derek, though, Dean had been moving closer and closer. He took pains to make it look like he wasn’t being territorial, but he definitely did not like the looks of this guy. He was tall, dark, and handsome and his outfit and demeanor had douchebag written all over him. Dean had noticed the copious amounts of alcohol you had been plastered with by Mr. Dbag, and he knew you were not going to be able to make sane choices tonight. Finally deciding to make his presence known, he set down his beer patted Sammy on the shoulder, and walked over to where you were draped across the stranger.

“Excuse, me,” he cut into the conversation. “Are you about ready to leave, sweetheart?” He turned toward you, placing a steadying hand on your elbow.

You looked at him with half-lidded eyes, your words slurring as you spoke. “Nooo...I’m gonna shtay here a wiff D-man a lit-tle longer.” You held your fingers up in an open pinch.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, darlin’,” he cautioned. “You don’t even know this guy.”

“Yesh, I do. Hish name’s Derek, and heesh dressed as da Huntsman.” You slammed your hands down on your hips as if the action would get your point across regardless of your inebriated speech.

“Seriously, (y/n), I think it’s time we head to the—,” he was cut off by Derek, who had heard his name and returned his attention to the conversation.

“And who the hell are you,” he shot at Dean, his words slightly slurred and eyes glistening with alcohol.

“I’m Dean. Dean Winchester,” he replied civilly. “Who are you?” His emerald eyes hardened and his jaw clenched, his hand never left your elbow. It was almost like he was looking for a confrontation.

“Derek,” he replied curtly. “Now if you’ll excuse us Mr. Winchester, (y/n) and I have some things we need to get back to.” He drunkenly wrapped his arms around your waist, obviously not knowing what was good for him. You stiffened at the action, beginning to sober up as you knew what it would solicit from Dean, the territorial jackass.

“I think you should let her go,” Dean said. “It’s not polite to be grabbing at women who are too drunk to think clearly. Especially if you just met them, and you’re the douchebag plying them with alcohol.” Dean may have been a womanizer, but at least he had a conscience when it came to taking advantage of overly drunk women.

“Listen, man, she’s a big girl, she can take care of herself. If she wants to stay here with me, more power to her. I won’t hurt her.” Derek brushed the hair off your neck and ran his nose along the curve of your shoulder, inhaling your scent as he went. “At least not much, anyway.”

“Outside,” Dean said. Quietly. Calmly. Though you knew how much rage he was holding back, you could see it brewing in his dark green eyes. He had had enough of this guy.

“Excuse me?” Asked Derek.

“You heard me. Outside.” Dean said again, fist clenched at his side.

They stared each other down for a moment before Derek rose and walked to the door, dragging you with him, Dean hot your heels.

As the three of you stepped into the parking lot, Dean yanked you out of Derek’s inebriated grip and landed a left hook squarely to his left cheekbone sending him sprawling across the hood of a new Shelby Mustang. It took a moment for Derek to find his footing after the blow, but he countered Dean’s punch with a swing of a discarded tire iron he had found nearby. Dean dodged it swiftly, knocking it from his grasp and landing an uppercut to Derek’s jaw, forcing him to the ground with the impact.

You heard the door burst open and turned to see Sam, Cas, Ellen, and Jo run out behind you. Sam and Cas looked ready to jump in and Ellen had a baseball bat in her grip just in case things came to more severe blows. Jo pulled you close to her side as Sam rested a large hand on your shoulder. Cas and Ellen both assessing the situation in case Dean needed help with the drunk creep.

Before Derek could get to his feet, Dean had a knee pressed firmly against his chest with one hand fisted in his collar and the hook poised at his throat. Leaning down so they were nearly nose to nose, Dean spoke. “If you ever lay a hand on her again, or any woman for that matter, I swear to Chuck, I will hunt you down. And believe me, that’s not something you want to happen. Capice?”

Derek stared at him with wide eyes as he slowly nodded his head and gasped for breath. As Dean was rising to his feet, he suckerpunched the inebriated man beneath him, effectively knocking him out. He walked over to your group as he shook out his hand. “Well I think that’s our queue to leave,” he said. Sam looked at him with a quizzical eyebrow raised. “Long story,” was all Dean said in reply.

“Well I appreciate you bringing the fight outside, Dean,” Ellen said with a mixed look of gratitude and bewilderment.

“No problem, Ellen.” He looked between Mother and daughter, “thanks for having us.”

“Anytime,” Jo replied. The group was still astonished by the direction the night had turned, you were all standing around looking at each other with wide eyes and soft mumbles.

“Sam?” Dean asked, nodding his head and raising his eyebrows in a you ready to go look.

“Uh...I uh, am actually going to stay here for the night. Ariel is waiting inside and Jo said we could, uh, use the back room.” His face became more red and his sentence more flustered as he finished speaking.

“Dude, there is so much I could do with that one sentence,” he chuckled, but Sam shot him a withering glare. Clearing his throat, Dean went on, “But I won’t. Just be careful, and call if you need anything. We’re going to get a room at the motel in town, just meet us there in the morning.”

Waving goodbye you, Dean, and Cas set out for the local motel.

#eyes-of-a-disney-princess #supernatural #spn #deanxreader #dean winchester #costumes #birthday #jo harvelle #fanfiction #fanfic #part 2 of 3 #sorry it’s so long #Rapunzel’s Tangled Up With Supernatural Challenge #Sam winchester #castiel #Crowley

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bloggerblagger · 8 years ago

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77) M’aidez, M’aidez, May-day. (But, seriously, do you really think she is going to help?)

Unmoored.

That is how Trump and Brexit have made me feel. The old certainties that tied me to a place of relative safety are being wrenched away. It may sound daft and melodramatic but I have a very definite image in my mind. I am on the prow of a small boat tied up to a quay; the wind starts to blow, a storm whips up, and the sky suddenly turns menacingly dark. I hear creaking and banging and the screeching of birds and the deck starts to rock. Then, one by one, the ropes that tie us to the pontoon start to snap under the strain, and, before I know it, it’s too late to get off. We are loose, drifting and lurching towards to the choppy, frothing open sea. And here’s the worse part: I do not have a clue how to sail this boat. Not a fucking clue.

Religious types like to preface announcements of their hopes and plans with ‘Please God’ or ‘God willing’ or ‘Inshallah’. ‘We’re going on holiday to America next year, please God.’ ‘My son will be going to Oxford in September, Inshallah.’ Silly superstition to me, hoping to ward off the evil eye, and being a modern, atheistic, hard-core rationalist, you never hear me say things like that.

Only I haven’t evolved quite as far as I would have liked. I’m still just as prone to a bit of OCDish touching of wood as the next person. So I have my own Godless version of those pointless little mantras, and, in truth it means the same thing. I always say that I am going do such and such, ’All other things being equal’.

But, of course, now, all those other things are not equal.

I went to see ‘Jackie’, the other day, Natalie Portman’s tour de force as the wife of the assassinated President. Almost the first thing you see is a title saying ‘1963’. 54 years ago this year, comfortably more than half a century and, although it shocks and pains me to say it, ah yes, I remember it well.

For my generation it was the dashing, glamorous Kennedys who did so much to give us such an absurdly romantic idea of what America was. A Technicolor wonderland full of skyscrapers, and ludicrous, enormous cars with tailfins inspired by cartoon spaceships, and surfers on beaches full of gorgeous Californian girls, and the wild West and the Rockies and Marilyn and Elvis and Haight Ashbury.

Everything in America seemed bigger and brighter, and I, and most of my generation I think, totally bought into this romantic idea of brand America. By and large, we turned a blind eye to the mad religiosity, and the insane gun toting, and the fact that between the supposed nirvanas of New York and California lay vast tracts of flat, dead boring country full of fat, dead boring people.

Now the romance is over. Every day, several times a day, we are tweeted to a display of mindless vulgarity, of pointless, petty, puerile offensiveness that makes complete fools of those of us who were once in love with the idea of America. How blind we were. America was always like this but we chose not to see.

The will of (a minority of) the people.

Laughably this has all come about in the name of democracy, that noble concept that America claims to be so wedded to.

Democracy? When the winner can be outvoted by more than three million votes.

Democracy? When the least populated state, Wyoming, has an officially recorded population of 582,658 and and has 3 votes in the Electoral College, making 1 vote per 194,219 people, and the most populous, California, has a population of 39,250,017 and 55 votes in the Electoral College making 1 vote per 713,637.

Yep, that’s democracy in the good old US of A*, where, in a Presidential election, the vote of a citizen of Wyoming is worth nearly 4 times as much as that of a citizen of California. (3.67 times to be exact.)

Still there are always the fabled checks and balances to this bullying in a China shop President. (And - so far - in a Mexico shop, an Australia shop, an Iran shop, and a Muslim shop too.)

Surely the Legislature, that is to say, Congress, can reign him in? Except that, of course, both houses of Congress, the House of Representatives and the Senate, are now solidly Republican, supposedly the party of Trump.

The Senate, by the way, is even less democratic than the Electoral College and even more hopelessly skewed in the direction of those who live in the back and beyond. (Aka Trump voters.) Every state gets two senators, so in Wyoming that’s one Senator per 291,329 voters and in California it’s one per 19,625,009. Which means that a vote in a US Senatorial election from a Wyomingite is worth a whopping 67.36 times as much as that of a Californian. ( 68.2% of the Wyoming popular vote went to Trump, you won’t be surprised to learn, whereas in California 61,5% of the popular vote went to Mrs.Clinton.)

And the judiciary?

Can it really be independent when Federal judges - that’s not just Supreme Court justices but also Courts of Appeals judges and District judges - are appointed to their office by the President of the United States? (The Senate has to approve them it’s true, but you know which way that is going to go.)

Yes, the brave chap in Washington is currently sticking two fingers up to Trump over the immigration issue, and apparently this case is going to go all the way to the Supreme Court, but when push comes to shove, don’t we know from experience - the hanging chads experience - that the Supreme Court votes along party political lines?

Americans can blather on about the sanctity and durability of their Constitution as much as they like, but somehow I don’t think it frightens the Orange One one little bit.

(Not that, as I have pointed out before - see blog post 69 - our so-called democracy is any more convincing. Far from it. Even if a Californian’s vote in a Senate election counts for so little, at least they get a vote. Whereas with our equivalent, our Upper House, the House of Lords, we just have to take what the great and good decide we should be given.)

The headmistress will see you now.

Has there ever been anything more nauseating than the sight of Theresa holding Donald’s hand?

But if it turned your stomach, I’ll bet that’s nothing to how it made her feel. Kitten heels notwithstanding, she is the very model of prissy, churchy, English modesty and restraint. Can you imagine anyone who would instinctively repulse her more than the bragging, vainglorious, vulgarian with the silly hair? Give Mrs.May her due: just the act of not actually publicly vomiting was a sacrifice way above and beyond the call of duty.

Of course, having just cut off our nationalist nose to spite our economic face - or was it the other way around - what choice she did have?

Even if our goods sold in the USA under EU rules do, currently, only face an average 2%** tariff, so that the very best deal she could ever get - no tariff at all - would barely make a difference, she is still forced to go grovelling to Trump, in order to be able to pretend that she is doing something other than sticking her head in the sand and praying that Brexit is all just a bad dream.

Mrs.May, being very tall and thin with rather stick-like legs and a beaky nose, and often awkwardly bent slightly forward, does, in fact, look quite ostrich-like, don’t you think? Or ‘struthious’ which, I have just discovered via Google, is the proper word for being ‘of or pertaining to ostriches’. The struthious Mrs. May ….remember you saw it here first.

But actually I prefer another image of her. I see Mrs. May as the headmistress of a private girl’s school facing hard times. (Those of us who have daughters who have been to private girls’ schools will know that she is perfect casting.)

Her secretary rings through to her office on an Intercom that wasn’t even the last word in high tech modernity three headmistresses before.

“Mrs. May, Mr. Trump is here.”

Beat pause, then Mrs.May takes a deliberate deep breath before replying.

“Give me a moment please.”

Mrs.May stands and walks across to the mirror on the wall. She glimpses the wallpaper peeling behind it and the damp patch it reveals. She hopes he won’t notice it but is quite certain he will. She looks in the mirror and pats down her hair. She stares at what she sees and grimaces slightly, shaking her head. Her face says it all.

So this is what it has come to. St. Boadica’s so desperate for money that she has to admit the wild child daughter of this dreadful man, this hideous, lecherous, ghastly buffoon. Worse still, if she is to squeeze out of him a desperately needed donation to the ‘St.Boadicea’s Repair the Roof’ fund she is going to have to shake his sweaty little hand, feign laughter at his terrible off-colour jokes, and try, pathetically, against the all the odds, to appear coquettish when he squeezes her hand just a little too tight. She shudders visibly.

Mrs. May turns back to her desk, opens a little drawer and takes out an old silver hip flask. She tips her head back and takes a good, hard unladylike swig, and then puts the flask back in the drawer. She reaches down to the intercom to press down the ancient Bakelite switch so that she can ask her secretary to show the odious Mr.Trump in. But as she leans down, her eye catches sight of her well-worn blouse. She pauses for a moment, considers, then lifts her finger from the switch and undoes the top button.

’Oh well’, she reasons silently to herself, ‘In for a penny, in for a devalued bloody pound.’

* http://www.vox.com/policy-and-politics/2016/11/7/12315574/electoral-college-explained-presidential-elections-2016

** http://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/politics/uk-us-trade-deal-donald-trump-theresa-may-meeting-benefits-eu-single-market-small-upsides-bank-of-a7546866.html

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