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direwombat · 2 years

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run, rabbit, run | kit cross x sybille la roux x jacob seed | ~2k | M

much love to @socially-awkward-skeleton, for letting me borrow kit and play dolls with her, i hope I did her justice <3

All Sybille wants is one good day.

Strike that.

All Sybille wants is a day that isn’t bad. Perhaps a middling, uneventful one, if God could spare the generosity. One that she can look back on and say, “Yup, nothing exciting happened, and it was great.” She’d give just about anything for a fucking break. A single day to catch her breath from the ragged pace she’s been pushed into.

But apparently that’s too much for her to ask, because everything is going downhill with the speed and force of a goddamn avalanche. The Valley is free, but John fled to Joseph’s island before she could take him into custody. Rachel is safe and the smothering clouds of Bliss are slowly blowing East, out of the Henbane, but she lost Cross to whatever the fuck is going on in the mountains.

One second the two had been drawing up battle plans to take Joseph down.

The next, her former coworker (and friend if she’s feeling generous) was sliding a bowl of what Sybille chooses to believe was raw ground beef through the bars of the cage holding her hostage.

She did her trials, and this time someone was kind enough to leave her next to the bloody pile of those who died by her hands, rather than on top of it.

But the amount of time given to lick her wounds has been getting noticeably shorter.

She runs, pumping her arms and legs until her breath goes ragged and the taste of copper tickles the back of her throat. The frigid pre-dawn air pierces her lungs like ice with every inhale while her muscles burn with exertion.

The worst part is that she has no idea how long they’ve been tracking her. It’s only within the past hour they’ve decided to close in. The Chosen hunting parties were annoying, but she knew how to avoid them. But of course, that meant Jacob started hunting her down himself. That was bad enough. At least when it was just him, her odds of escaping were a coin toss — it could go either way. But having both Jacob and Kit pursuing her?

She’s fucked.

All she can do is be smart about where she runs and pray she’s faster than they are.

Clawing branches rake over her skin and clothes, slicing shallow cuts and ripping strips of fabric from her body. At this point, she barely feels it over her thudding pulse and her feet pounding against the forest floor. The blood beading on her face and the ache in her bones are nothing compared to the beautiful and excruciating agony that will likely come when they catch her.

When, she realizes dreadfully. Not if.

She sees the trap coming long before she stumbles into it, but the momentum she’s built isn’t stopped so easily. It’s little more than a flash of red hair darting through the densely grown trees, but it’s enough to tip her off. She’s heading straight for one of them — Kit, she thinks. Not tall enough to be Jacob — but she’s locked in her current trajectory. Any kind of pivot now would just break her ankle.

It all happens so fast.

A whistle rings out.

She dares to look behind her. Jacob is there, his rifle in his hands, but he isn’t aiming it.

Pain explodes in her shoulder and the force of the arrow’s impact is enough to knock her down. She falls, ass-over-teakettle, down a sloping hill.

She’s lucky she didn’t break her goddamn neck.

A creaking moan is pushed from her lungs as she lay stunned in the dirt and pine needles. Slowly, she pushes herself to her hands and knees, feebly attempting to catch her breath. The world bends and swims as she moves her head, and she’s not sure whether it’s because she hit her head or if it’s from the Bliss so crudely injected into her bloodstream. With a grunt, she breaks the fletching from the shaft, but makes no move to push the arrowhead through. If history serves, someone will take care of that for her once she’s unconscious.

For now, she moves with trembling limbs, crawling to the closest tree and seating herself against its trunk. Pressing her hand to the wound and applying pressure, she watches as Kit and Jacob stalk down the hill towards her.

“This is gonna get old, eventually,” she says as they close the distance. Fuck her lungs ache. She spits out a thick wad of foamy phlegm into the dirt beside her. “This can’t go on forever.”

“Maybe for you,” Jacob says. He swings his rifle by its strap as he shoulders it, coming to crouch in front of her.

Kit circles around the tree, leisurely twirling her hunting knife in her hand before stopping and squatting beside her as well. “Getting tired, Bunny?” she asks, and were it not for the hungry gleam in those icy eyes, Sybille might have thought she was bored.

“You know how these things work,” Jacob says condescendingly. “You run, we hunt. Predators need prey, Deputy, and that’s what you are to us.”

Sybille rolls her eyes and scoffs, but it isn’t enough to hide her body’s betrayal. For some sick fucking reason, hearing him put it so bluntly causes her pulse to flutter and heat pool low in her gut. She squirms just enough where she sits to get Jacob’s teeth to flash dangerously. “I think our little Jackrabbit likes that idea,” he says to Kit. Then he turns his attention back to her, his voice dropping lecherously. “That what you want, pet? You want us to keep hunting you down? Do whatever we want when we catch you?”

He makes no attempt to hide the way his eyes rove over her body, pausing only to admire the low dip of her tanktop’s collar and the way blood smears tantalizingly over her skin.

And as fucked up as it is, the notion makes Sybille’s cunt clench, and her underwear, already damp with sweat, grows even wetter. The idea of being pinned beneath the two of them, their teeth at her throat — helpless, caught, consumed; Jacob fucking into her while Kit sits on her face, the two taking their pleasure from her with only the barest regard for her own — is one that excites her more than she cares to admit. She swallows thickly, her chin tilting up in what she tells herself is defiance, but is actually little more than a means to bear her throat.

When she doesn’t answer immediately, Kit’s fingers thread through her hair, almost tenderly, before gripping her roughly by the roots and yanking her head back. “You’ve been asked a question, Bunny. You should probably answer,” Kit coos, all false kindness and venomously saccharine. Then, she leans in close, nipping at Sybille’s earlobe, and trailing the edge of her blade across the exposed skin of her sternum. “But between you and me, it’s more fun if you don’t.”

Everything about this is utterly humiliating, and the mercy of a Bliss induced sleep evades her. She supposes her God isn’t a merciful one, after all. Her eyes flutter shut and she lets out a shuddering breath. “Yes, sir,” she says. A flush blooms far too hot across her face.

Kit pulls on her hair again, nails digging into her scalp, causing her eyes to fly open as she cries out in surprise. “At attention, soldier,” Kit sneers. “Eyes on your superior.”

The growl in response that Sybille lets out is low, but ultimately toothless. Nothing more than the sounds of a cornered animal long since beaten into submission. She refrains from hissing an incredibly petty, I outranked you at the woman tugging at her hair. As if the ranks they held in their former lives meant anything anymore. As if she spent more than just a few weeks as a Staff Sergeant before getting herself blown up and sent home.

She may gnash her teeth, but she knows better than to bite. The muzzle trained her well.

Jacob takes her jaw in one of his massive hands, further pinning her in place and forcing eye contact. “Yes, sir, what?” he asks. The smile tugging at his lips is infuriatingly smug. Victorious. At this point, they’re just playing with their food.

She has half a mind to spit in his face. Probably would have if Kit weren’t there to swiftly put her in her place — although, her stomach flips in a way that makes her think she may not mind that. Instead, she flares her nostrils and swallows what little pride she has left like a bitter pill. “Yes, sir. I want that.”

He clicks his tongue, moving his hand just enough to press his thumb to her chapped and bleeding lower lip. It takes every ounce of restraint she has not to swipe her tongue out and draw the finger into her mouth. “Use your words,” he tuts.

Maybe it’s the blood loss or maybe it’s the Bliss, but her mind is so foggy that the words slip out far easier than she thought they would. “I want you both to keep hunting me,” she says, her eyes hazily drifting between the two of them. Her voice sounds so distant in her own ears and she barely recognizes the sound of it, thick and rasping with desire. “Want you to claim me when you catch me.”

Kit makes a low, pleased sound. Her grip in Sybille’s hair loosens, but she doesn’t let go entirely. Not yet. Just how she’s still managing to cling to consciousness despite the weight of her eyelids, so too does Kit keep her locked in place. Neither of them have been dismissed yet.

He swipes his thumb across Sybille’s cheek, smearing the blood from one of the many scratches. “Good girl,” he says, before moving in for a bruising kiss. He crashes his mouth against hers, his demanding tongue pushing past the seam of her lips and prying them open. She moans, her free hand darting out to claw her fingers into his field jacket, unsure of whether she’s trying to push him away or draw him closer.

The heat of Kit’s body closes in and the cold kiss of her blade is instead replaced by her hand at the base of Sybille's throat. Another tongue licks inside her mouth, causing her to shudder and for her eyes to roll back in her head. The feeling is so foreign, so overwhelming. She’s kissed both of them — Kit only once in a moment of mutual weakness, and Jacob many times against her better judgment — and her experiences have left her dizzy and breathless.

This time is no different.

The intensity of both of them combine and multiply exponentially. Biting teeth, probing tongues, Jacob gripping her jaw like a vice so she can’t move — only take what they’re giving her — and Kit’s hand squeezes just enough to restrict airflow without outright strangling her. Her back arches against the trunk of the tree holding her upright as they both steal the breath from her lungs, hungry and consuming. Claiming.

Just as she asked.

By the time they part, Sybille is about ready to pass out. Without Kit or Jacob supporting her head, it rolls like it’s too heavy for her neck to support. The fingers gripping Jacob’s jacket loosen and her arms drop like lead. She sighs, looking pathetically at both of them as her vision begins to blur. “I don’t…I don’t think I can move,” she breathes.

“I know, sweetheart,” Jacob says, and he ruffles her hair like she’s a fucking dog. Even more embarrassingly, she leans into it like she’s one, too. Then he’s lifting her from where she sits on the forest floor. He’s careful enough to avoid jostling the arrow in her shoulder, although at this point, she’s numb enough that he could probably push it through without her feeling a damn thing. He heaves her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, and he says, “Let’s get you home.”

“M’re trials?” she slurs sleepily.

“Not the kind you’re used to,” he answers, rising to his feet. Kit does the same and gives her a knowing smirk. Something playfully malicious glitters in blue eyes.

But before Sybille can ask what the fuck that’s supposed to mean, the Bliss finally pulls her under.

#kit x syb x jacob #oc: deputy sybille la roux #kit cross #jacob seed #i /could/ have waited until oc kiss week #but i'm not the kind to sit on things. i crave that instant gratification of posting my work the second it's finished #also please excuse the use of em-dashes. they're fun and i like them and i don't care #my writing #my fic

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socially-awkward-skeleton · 1 year

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Tagged by: @ishwaris (last week, thank you again) @chazz-anova @eclecticwildflowers and @clicheantagonist thank you all so much!

Tagging: @strangefable @direwombat @adelaidedrubman @roofgeese @confidentandgood @derelictheretic @strafethesesinners @shallow-gravy @blissfulalchemist @henbased @florbelles @trench-rot @inafieldofdaisies @jacobsneed @voidika @v0idbuggy @detectivelokis @madparadoxum @nightbloodbix @nightwingshero @josephslittledeputy @marivenah @josephseedismyfather @cassietrn @neverthesameneveranother @kyber-infinitygems @aceghosts @wrathfulrook @vampireninjabunnies-blog @g0dspeeed @poetikat (and I feel like I’m missing others so anyone else I missed as well - no pressure of course)

Technically it’s still Tuesday for me but what the hell...

A little wip art from an upcoming scene in American Beasts where Kit finally gets to take care of the old man instead of him patching her up

And a snippet from Staci’s confession (this chapter is killing me, why can’t it just write itself)

This wasn’t going to be easy no matter which route he took, but he had to say something. "Um, well from the moment I was taken from the helicopter I've had my mind on a few things."

John smiled, the orange light reflecting off his eyes like the eye shine of a nocturnal beast. "Go on."

Staci licked his lips nervously, though his mouth was so dry he barely coated them in saliva at all. “Some thoughts are stronger than others. There are certain people in my life who affect them in particular.”

“Mmhm,” John hummed, raising his brow. He didn’t probe, he simply let silence settle until Staci felt forced to continue.

“Kit – being one of them.” Brown eyes were narrowed to slivers as Staci winced, waiting for the blow back of this reveal. He was sure she wasn’t one of the Baptist’s favorite people especially after how much trouble she’d caused him.

“Ah, Kathleen…” John started to pace, a half smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth as he forced his hands behind his back to keep himself from fidgeting. “She is quite something, isn’t she?”

The way John’s eyes lit up at the mere mention of her name made his stomach drop. He had reason to believe Kit and Jacob had some sort of personal relationship, but seeing another Herald reacting this way over her – and being trapped in his basement – put Staci on edge.

“Being at the Vet Center – staying close to Jacob, hearing the radio transmissions, collecting the reports, seeing the footage. The things she did…continues to do. I just – I don’t know how she does it. If our roles were reversed...I don't think I'd have been able to do half the things she’s accomplished, and she’d still do better than I did while under the Herald’s care.” Staci said, his voice cracked and wavered.

His eyes fell to his lap, embarrassed by who he was, by his failure. If it had been her who was taken and he was left to fight, Hope County would have fallen in a week and he’d be somewhere bleeding out – alone.

“I spent time in the cages, I took part in the trials – somehow I survived. Something in me wouldn’t let me die, like it had something to prove. Seeing the desperation of the recruits kept there, seeing how fast we all broke, and how badly they all wanted to be saved – just a glimpse at the badge had them reaching out to me like I was some hero when I was no better than any of them. They treated me like I was a fuckin’ saint. That feeling buries itself inside you, you start to crave it. I guess I understand why she fights so hard, but still –”

“So what are you more envious of then, Staci? What she managed to do or who she is and why she fights?”

“I’m envious of what they both are,” Staci said, choking out his response.

“Both?” John's eyes widened, giving him a look of innocence.

“Kit and Jacob. They’re strong. Stronger than I’ll ever be, but goddamn am I willing to try.”

John turned to roll his eyes at the mention of his eldest brother and strength. He'd heard the same thing said by so many of Jacob's recruits it had become tiresome to him to say the very least. He gave a quiet sigh and turned back to the table where the tattoo needle sat, snatching it up into his hands. He began to pace once more, long strides back and forth in front of the former Deputy like a metronome. “What about your relationship with Kit?”

“What?” Staci’s brow furrowed at the insinuation. He was one of the last people anyone would or could ever think she’d have something to do with.

“Nancy – in the information she gave us – she mentioned you used to flirt with her. Do you two have a history together? Or was this more just a one sided desire on your part?"

“Fuckin’ Nancy,” Staci muttered, shaking his head. “I don’t have a relationship with Kit, I mean sure I’ve thought about it, hell sometimes it was a nice warm thought to keep me alive in the cage when I was covered in my own piss and other people’s blood, but no…her and I — never gonna be a thing.”

“But you’d like it to be?” John tilted his head and cocked his brow, squeezing every last bit of information he could get from his newest toy.

“Not if I don’t want my neck snapped by the Herald.”

“I’m sorry. What was that?” John’s tongue clicked against his teeth as he fought to keep the smile on his face, his brow furrowing deeply.

“I don’t know for sure, they try to keep it quiet, sometimes there's hints…

John’s eye twitched, the whites of his eyes expanding as he stared at Staci like a deer caught in the headlights, his smile becoming ever more manic.

“She’s been kept with him in privacy a few times now and for someone who doesn't talk a lot she gets…” Staci looked around the room, his gaze floating up to the antlers that hung above him, suddenly feeling like the axe hanging above his head on a chopping block. But he’d started and couldn’t leave John hanging now. “Vocal. Kinda starting to think there’s something going on there between them, you know?”

Chuckling quietly, John puffed himself up like the preening peacock he was. “Between Cross and my brother? My brother, Jacob?”

“Yeah?”

John’s jaw tightened, clenching as his molars crunched against each other, squeaking as the teeth scraped against the other. A forced smile crept across his lips, pulling against his tightly clenched teeth, making the corners of his eyes crinkle with how hard he was trying to hide the real emotions.

“I know Jacob isn’t big on the religion, so he doesn’t follow all the rules, but they seem to be –”

John held up his hand to stop the flow of words that seemed to spill from Staci’s mouth like a river now that he was given the chance to speak. “That’s quite enough, Pratt. Thank you for opening up to me.” Stomping around the room, the vein in his forehead throbbed violently and his face turned red as he bit back on his rage. Pushing his hand through his slicked back hair, John exhaled as if he was forcing out the scream that now lay buried inside his ribs as he took his position standing in front of Staci. “For the acts that you’ve confessed to. I’ll be marking you with Envy and Lust. Coveting is a very unhealthy mindset, Staci. Are you sure being at Saint Francis is the right place for how you feel?”

Staci lifted his chin and took a deep breath. He’d never been more sure of anything in his life. “It’s where I want to be. I want to be strong.”

The Baptist’s smile crept back along his lips, no longer the madman fretting over things out of his control, he slipped back into the form he liked to present to the world as the man who had it all together. “Very well”

Still gripping the tattoo needle tight in his hand, John placed it back down on the table and bent over Staci, ripping open the same Deputy uniform he’d been forced to wear for weeks covered in blood, sweat, dirt and the stains of his tears. Staci’s breath hitched in his throat when the cold, recycled air blowing through the vents hit his bandaged chest. The wounds below only freshly starting to heal began to prickle and burn, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“Well, Jacob didn’t leave me much to work with.”

Stopping to stare at the bloodstained gauze on Staci’s chest and abdomen, John pulled open the rest of the buttons until Staci’s shirt was hanging off of him. A cruel sneer pulled at John’s lip and he grabbed the sponge and water from the table, slapping the soft, wet material against Staci’s trail of hair that led down to his belt. “Consider this a reminder when you’re starting to feel lonely again.”

Placing the sponge back into the bowl with a splash, John quickly swiped the tattoo needle back up into his hand, turning it on with a loud buzz that made Staci’s teeth ache like being at the dentist. Kneeling down between Staci’s legs, John smiled and his bright blue eyes seemed to flash with something dark. “Take a deep breath.”

Staci sucked in as much air as his lungs could hold when the needle touched his skin and ripped through it with a million little pricks. It lacked the fluidity of the knife Jacob had used against him. Biting down into his lip, his eyes rolled back into his head as John continued to scrawl into the sensitive skin of his pelvis.

Pursing his lips, John blew cold air onto Staci’s new tattoo when he was finished with his handiwork, and grabbed the sponge to dab at the blood that was bubbling to the surface through the broken skin.

Half expecting words of praise, telling him he’d done a good job, that he took it well – something warm coiled in Staci’s belly and he felt nauseous. This wasn’t Jacob, this wasn’t the trials – this was a whole other beast. John merely ignored him and carried on with his work, tugging the sleeve of his shirt down his arm to expose the flesh of his upper bicep. Smooth hands traveled over his skin, finding the best place to drop the needle and Staci’s lip quivered in response to the gentle touch.

Wiping the skin down, droplets of water following the curves of what little muscle Staci was getting back, and John grabbed the needle once more. Tearing through layers of skin to mark it with the word ENVY, he showed little remorse as Staci started to groan with pain.

“There. Marked with your sins for all the world to see.” John leaned in, his nose nearly pressed to the former deputy’s. “Are you ready to atone, brother?”

Hot breath fanned over his face and Staci struggled to swallow. There was no fight left in him, he’d do whatever was asked. “Yes.”

The way John smiled at him, it was like he’d made the man’s dreams come true.

“Then let’s begin.”

#wip wednesday #wip art #skelly writes #american beasts #far cry 5 #jacob seed #oc: kit cross #jacob x kit #ship: the wolf and the wildcat #staci pratt #john seed

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strawberryforks · 8 months

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blue walls, blue eyes, and the blue blanket // cole walter x reader

summary: you don’t have a good home life and end up unofficially moving in with the walter boys.

warnings: physical & verbal abuse, underage drinking, counsellors depicted in a negative light, swearing, canon divergence–jackie’s family never passes away, so while katherine and her mother are still good friends, they’ve not met/moved in with the walters.

word count: 5957

there’s a ding, and the principal is speaking over the pa. everyone stops what they’re doing so nothing is missed. after all, this doesn’t happen often.

the teacher freezes, dry erase marker still pressed firmly against the board, the end squishing and ink bleeding atop the letter he was writing and danny, who’s sitting beside you, gives you a look. you know its meaning, recognize the weight behind it, and know this routine. you stand up quickly. the backs of your knees slam into the hard plastic you had been sitting on and the chair goes skittering back, bumping into the pair of desks behind you.

you’re too tired to send that apologetic smile to anyone else. fortunately danny isn’t. making sure you aren’t alone, aren’t the only one being disruptive and making noise in an otherwise silent classroom, he braces a hand on the back of his chair, twisting around, to face your wide-eyed classmates. “sorry about that,” he whispers.

your movements are all harsh. they’re fast and full of annoyance, as you swipe your textbook, pencil kit, and water bottle off your desk and into your awaiting tote bag.

standing up, you make your way to the door. the teacher stares daggers at you the entire way. They go to grab your arm and you flinch away. “don’t touch me,” you grit, hands gripping around the doorknob so tightly it hurts. air is hitting your face, propelled towards you by the door you shoved open, when you hear your dismissal “please send y/n l/n to guidance,” spoken over the announcements. your teacher follows you out into the hallway, shouting instructions that you reluctantly follow, after you.

you count the tiles on your way. nearly running into the blue door, you end at fifty six.

ms jacobs, tara, as she’ll insist you call her, is a nice enough lady. she has curly brown hair, brown eyes, and perfectly painted on lipstick. she looks disarming, as a counsellor with the numbers of everyone that could ruin your life on speed dial, you suppose she has to. still, this isn’t new. she leads you further into the room and gestures to a chair “take a seat.”

when you don't, her smile becomes more strained. “please, y/n. this doesn’t need to be difficult, we just need to have a chat.”

you sigh, shoulders sagging as you plop down into the hundredth blue thing in this office. doors, trim, there’s a ridiculous amount of the colour and you don’t like it. blue, represents sadness. it’s something you’ve had enough of. sure, there’s other colours. posters upon posters–some neon, and green leaves stuck onto a large potted plant. there’s other colours just like there’s other feelings, but the one you’re stuck on, the one you can’t get over is sadness; it's blue.

“i hate the colour blue, Ms. Jacobs.” You tell her.

“why?” she asks, interested in you opening up further. you don’t.

“are you going to give me the run-down? tell me what i can and can’t say?”

her brows furrow. “do i need to? i called you here to talk about your grades but if there’s something else going on–”

“there isn’t ms jacobs. i do appreciate the concern, though. about my grades. they’re passing, i don’t see the problem.” you didn’t have a single grade above fifty five. it was hard to, when all of your teachers assigned heaps and heaps of homework and you would rather take a deep-dive into hellfire, brimstone, and lakes of lava, then return to the place you were expected to complete it at.

“call me tara.” you don’t.

“ms jacobs, if it would make you happy, i’ll try harder.”

“it would, y/n. thank you.”

you gather your things and stand. a glance at your phone lets you know your second class is over, so you plan to head to the cafeteria. “and y/n, just know that whatever you say to me is confidential.” Unless you are or are planning to hurt yourself, someone else, or if someone is hurting you.

“bye ms jacobs.”

walking into the cafeteria was masochistic in a way, when they were serving your favourite food, and you had no lunch or money to buy any with. still, in your hurried text chain with danny, this is where you had decided to meet. If you had to sit with the theatre kids to score some time with your friend, you would, although it would be better if you could grab him and go somewhere that didn’t make your mouth water and stomach ache.

walking over to his table, you noticed alex was there too. Just chatting with his brother. You and alex weren’t the best friends, but he was nice enough, and like issac, lee, nathan, and cole, you had his number written down in your notepad under the ‘just in case’ column. you didn’t mind alex, he was polite and much like his brother, danny, never made you feel less than. alex was always armed with a smile.

“danny!” you called, announcing your presence so you wouldn’t scare anyone. you smiled at Alex who as expected, mirrored your expression. “nice to see you. mind if I cut in and steal your brother?”

alex nods, “be my guest. i’ll see you at the end of the day danny!”

he leaves and then you’re pulling danny up and along with you. he barely has time to grab his lunchbox before the two of you are leaving the cafeteria and heading outside. you slump down against the brick wall and danny takes a seat across from you. cross-legged, he pulls out two sandwiches and hands one to you. you eyes widen.

“i’m pretty observant,” he supplies, shrugging.

“thank you, d” you eat the sandwich, and it’s a good one. “do you have plans after school?” ‘please don’t be busy, please don’t be busy, please don’t be busy’ you repeat in your head over and over again. it’s a mantra, you’re manifesting. hoping, hoping, hoping.

“y/n/n, i’m sorry, i actually do. erin tried out for the school’s production and she wants help going over her lines–i would invite you to tag along but…”

“no, no!” yoy laugh. manifesting doesn’t work, mantras are pointless, and shit, what are you supposed to do about tonight? “no, danny. don’t worry about it. i know you like erin and this is the perfect opportunity! if she’s asking for help with lines–i mean you’re awesome–but let’s be real, you can go over lines with anyone. so, if she’s asking you specifically for help, that's such a good–a really good sign!”

you two talk for a while longer but it’s easy to see your mind is elsewhere.

the bell rings, you head to your last classes, and then home.

you’ve got to go home.

well, to your house. that place, those four walls, they stopped being your home a long time ago. when your dad got drunk and your mom got mean.

cole walter pulls up beside you on your way home. his truck slows down, nearly to a stop, and you keep walking. your headphones are on and you’re pretending you can’t hear him. you can, but, you hope he’ll tire of shouting, slam his food on the gas pedal, and leave you in a cloud of dust. “y/n, hey! l/n, you need a ride or what?”

the truck stops, pulls off the side of the road and then you’re hearing a door slam and cringing, face crinkling as you realise you should’ve just said no. shouted it, even.

cole walter jogs up to you. he knows your house is quite far away. too far away to be walking. he calls to you again but you’re still walking forward. he places his hand on your shoulder. you know he’s there. you know he’s beside him and still you fucking flinch. the second time today and you're feeling pathetic. you shouldn’t be–really shouldn’t be. it’s not your fault that people can’t seem to respect the concept of personal space, not your fault that your trust has been violated, shredded and spat out, so many times that touch makes you jump. makes you want to jump, or crawl, your way out of your own skin. you flip your headphones down, letting them fall around your neck, but turning your music up a few clicks so you can still hear it. music is your vice, but no one’s complaining because it’s better than alcohol or drugs or, i don't know, being an asshole–you do that too. unintentionally sometimes. like now.

“what?” you snap. on the defensive.

cole isn’t surprised by your flinching. You were dead to the world, listening to music so loud he could hear it from where he stood paces away from you. if he were you–if it was your hand that had sat down onto his shoulder and surprised him he probably would have shouted. he caught you off guard, he was sorry. both of his hands stuck up in the air. “that’s my bad. sorry for scaring you.”

“sorry for–” you guess he did scare you. in a way. “it’s fine. what are you doing here?” you take your time looking at cole. his sharp jaw, full lips, his blue eyes. usually you hate that colour, but on him? it’s not so bad.

“offering you a ride. youe place is pretty far from here, yeah?”

“it is but i like walking.”

“walking is fine and all, but it’s getting colder and it gets dark around five now. by the time you make it home it’ll be past that. my truck has heat, comfy seats, and i’ll even let you have aux.”

you’re not a stranger to the effect cole walter has on everyone. not at all. when he smiles at you, you feel your cheeks warm. you’re an idiot for not taking him up on that offer. your feet already ache and your legs burn.

some things hurt more, though.

actions, all of them, have consequences.

“i’m fine, cole. but thank you. you’re sweet.”

he shakes his head. you aren’t walking anymore, instead, stopped on the side of the road just waiting. this conversation, it’s going places. places you don’t like. “i can’t let you walk home alone. not in good conscience.”

he’s jogging back to his truck and pulling up beside you. he’s leaning over the centre console and pushing the door open. leaning over further, and helping you up, not starting to drive again until your seatbelt is buckled. if only that was the least of your worries. if. only.

“so what do you want to play?”

you plug in your phone and queue up your playlist. a sad song blasts and you hit skip very quickly, not missing the questioning look cole sends you. you laugh, “don’t tell me you’ve never listened to sad music while you’re reading.”

“i don’t read much, and most of the music i listen to is because of the lyrics. those ones were… dark.”

choosing to disregard most of his statement, you echoed his words back to him. “you don’t read much?”

“alex reads a lot. you two would get along.”

“shared interests aren’t everything. we don’t have much in common but i enjoy your company and danny and i click and we both hate each other's favourite tv show with a passion.”

“what show is that?” you tell him and he grins. “that’s my favourite too–seriously. we should get together and watch it sometime.”

“i’d love that!” so, shared interests aren’t everything, but they’re certainly something. you smile for a couple more kilometres and then it gets harder. when you see the sign with your civic on it, you know that the ride, no matter how awesome it was, and how much fun you had, wasn’t worth it.

you hop out of the truck–cole offered to walk you to the door but you denied, knowing you were already in for it. “thank you, though.”

He nodded. “i can give you a ride tomorrow, too. anytime you need one, really. just ask–or get danny to. I really don’t mind.” you smile. thank him again and climb out of the truck. you walk confidently until he pulls out of the long driveway and onto the road. then you sigh, and it’s because of cole’s conscience that you get home before it’s dark enough for you to slip in unnoticed.

you pause on the porch. you don’t want to go in, but you don’t have a choice. not really. what are your other options? run off into the woods and let yourself be some colorado woodland creature’s lunch? knowing what’s coming, it doesn’t sound too bad. you open the door and nearly sob when the wind slams it shut behind you.

your heart beats hard in your chest like your father’s boots do on the floor. “where the hell have you been! days, gone for days. you couldn’t call, couldn’t fucking text,” with each word, most of them slurred, he storms closer. it’s not even suppertime and his eyes are glassed over with that familiar film, his breath a pungent reminder, as obvious as the one in his hand, of what he’s been drinking all day. your mother is behind him in the hallway, puffing on a cigarette, uninterested. “there’s no respect! ya here the brat? thinking they run the place. comin’ and goin without a care.”

“i don’t–i know i don’t run the place.”

“damn right you don’t!” the half empty–you’ve never been a glass-half-full type of person, not growing up in this–bottle of beer come flying at the wall. it hits just above your head, the liquid and brown pieces of glass falling all over you.

“look what you made me do now! gone and spilled m’drink.”

you had taken your converse off at the door. always being yelled at for trekking in mud and dirtying the floor, the hurried steps you take backwards, hurt. your dad is wearing work boots, steel toe, but the only thing between you and the broken glass is a thin pair of socks. your skin splits. the light blue fabric on your feet turns dark red.

you whimper and each step hurts more than the last. then you bump into the wall. “dad, please.”

“calling me tha’ like you think it’ll make me forgive you. fuck,” he throws a glance over his shoulder. “how’d we make something so… so pathetic?”

your mom shrugs, like she hasn’t a clue, either.

“dad, please. i’m sorry, okay? i’ll call next time.”

“there won’t be a fucking next time! get your shit and get out. all we do for you, all we do and you’re still impossible. keep you fed, clothed, give you a place to sleep and just get attitude, attitude, and disrespect. i’m done being disrespected. done!”

“you can’t just kick me out! i have nowhere to go.” you yell. you yelled. you yelled. oh god. oh hell. oh shit. you see his leg rear back and you go to jump out of the way. you’ve already been kicked out–you just need to get out, and quickly. you jump over his leg but then his fist is wrapped in your hair and you’re falling. then the boot you dodged is slamming into you side. again, again, again. tears are streaming down your face. you’re sobbing.

then he’s picking you up by your shirt. lifting you, dragging you. he opens the door, grabs your bag, your shoes, and throws them outside. then, then he throws you. you land on the porch, body aching and pressing into the hardwood.

the door slams and you’re still sobbing. you’re pretty sure that your new mantra is ‘fuck’. it’s what you repeat over and over again as you drag yourself up and away from the front door. You need to get away, you need to get away. You really need to. creating distance between you and that door, you and those people, is priority.

“fuck, fuck, fuck.”

running isn’t really in the cards for you. you limp away and don’t miss your mother peering out the kitchen window. you guess that from her perspective you do look pathetic. but no more pathetic than your dad, the grown man who had to hurt you to feel powerful and get his point across. your pace is terrible but the darker it gets, the further you get. you’re in the woods now, with no idea where exactly you are and not much supplies. maybe you will end up as woodland creature dinner. there’s not much you can do to help it now. you think about calling someone and then you realise your phone isn’t in your bag. you start to shake. choked laughter bubbles it’s way out of your throat. you’re laughing and then the hysterics shift and you’re sobbing. arms wrapped tightly around yourself you cry for what must be hours.

later, slumped against a tree trunk you decide to tackle your feet. one problem at a time, one shard at a time. you pluck pieces out of your skin and the blood makes you feel nauseous. when the job is done, you slide your socks back on, and walk towards the sound that comforts you most. Rushing water. you find a river, and kneel at its edge. you wash your socks, yourself, and dry on a stone in the sun. you scrub the dirt and grime from your feet. when your socks are mostly dry and the cuts have stopped gushing blood, you put on your shoes and lace them up. then you follow the river. you’ll reach town soon enough. your face isn’t marred, just the rest of you, all hidden beneath layers of clothes–a long sleeve, a flannel, blue jeans.

ideally, you’ll find danny.

you don’t live in an ideal world. the boy you find is not danny but he wants something you can give and has something you need–a place to sleep. you do so without clothes, lying next to him. What you did was in the dark, would stay that way, because before he woke, before you were made to converse with the nameless boy, you dressed and snuck out. the walk of shame was just that, shameful. you felt horrendous. your body still hurt and you found yourself walking into a cafe you knew haley, will’s wife worked at.

asking for handouts made your stomach sour but you couldn’t do much else.

haley was scrubbing down a table when you approached her. “hey, haley.”

“y/n, hey, how’s it going?” then she turned to you and realised, not good. that it was not going good. you shot her a flattened smile. “i really hate to ask. like, i really really do, but i haven’t eaten in a bit and was wondering–”

“yeah, yes. of course. just have a seat, i’ll grab you… do you have any dietary restrictions?” you answer her, and when she comes back, handing you a wrapped meal you thank her profusely. “is there anything you need done around here? i appreciate this so much, but i don’t want to take advantage. i can clean–i’m not a great cook but I can make coffee.”

“you don’t need to do anything. you aren’t taking advantage. not at all. is there anything else i can do for you? anyone i can call? your parents?”

fear fills your eyes and perceptive as ever, she catches it. “not them, please.” is what you whisper. haley nods, disappears behind the counter and makes a phone call. then, she dotes on you for the next ten minutes until wil pulls up outside. he comes in, walks over to your table and sits down across from you.

you’re pretty sure you’ve been caught. the ruse, it’s very much up.

“what’s going on, y/n?”

you shrug and sip at the hot chocolate haley made for you. “well, come on. you don’t have to say anything right now but let’s get you home.” you stand, ready to go anywhere but, and will stops you. “my parent’s home, danny’s. katherine knows you’re coming. come on, kid.”

you follow him to the car. most of the drive is silent, but you thank him when the walter’s house homes into view and katherine is waiting outside on the porch with a smile. up the few stairs, and you head straight for her. you’re grateful for her gentle nature, because as you throw your arms around her and squeeze, she simply rests hers on your back, rubbing soothing circles. “they–they kicked me out.”

she takes a minute to respond, only because she finds this hard to process. you were a good kid, a great one, and she, having so many of her own, couldn’t think of a single thing that would make her abandon or discard one of her own children. “you’ll stay with us then.” it isn’t a question and you’re glad because how would you have answered? your mouth is dry but your eyes aren’t.

you sit in danny’s room. he isn’t home from school yet but he will be soon. katherine and george are upstairs making room for you. you feel like a burden, they assure you that you are not.

you’re waiting for danny, only he isn't who makes it home first. it’s cole. he walks in, tosses his bag down onto the bed, none the wiser that there’s another person in the room. his back faces you and he’s rifling through a drawer when he hears you hiccup. he turns around quickly. Sees you, crying in his brother's bed and immediately his brows are furrowed. “y/n?” he walks closer. the bed is near to the ground so he drops onto his knees. he’s close to you know but he’s made himself less intimidating. “y/n/n? hey.”

“hi Cole.”

“are you okay?”

“i’ve been better.”

cole doesn’t ask, he doesn’t push. instead he opens his laptop, logs into his netflix and puts on the favourite show you both discussed watching together. when the two of you are settled. him on the floor, face resting on the mattress, where you’re curled up in a blanket that belongs to his brother, he breaks the silence. “do you want me to get danny?”

“where is he?”

“he’s with erin at the school. i think they’re going over details for the production. but i can go get him if you need him. do you need him?”

you shake your head. as danny’s best friend you were the biggest ‘derin’ shipper there was. plus, cole was here. he made things okay. “no, no thanks. i don’t really want you to go anywhere if that’s okay?”

“that’s more than okay, but i will say, my bed is comfier.”

you smile for the first time in a bit, looking at the uncomfortable position he has himself in. “yeah? well, we should definitely watch this, over there then.”

“my thoughts exactly.” cole grabs the laptop, grabs you, still wrapped in the blanket he tells himself he’ll replace from the linen closet, and carries both over to his bed. you squeal a bit and bite back a real whimper when his hand touches what you know has to be a massive bruise, sitting you down.

you fall asleep, leaning against him. he pauses the show, closes his laptop, and promises to resume it when you’re awake to watch it with him. then he sends a threatening text to his brother, danny.

COLE: Y/n/n has had a rough day and is sleeping in our room

COLE: Wake her up and you’ll get hit

DANNY: is she okay??? ALSO since when do you call her y/n/n???

COLE: I’ll see you later

COLE: Tell Erin hi for me

DANNY: fuck off

george and katherine didn’t receive that same threatening text but when they peeked into the room to check on you and found you cuddled up against cole, snoring lightly, and looking peaceful they left you be. your room was ready and in the morning you moved into it. your clothes were dirty and katherine washed them for you but in the meantime… well it was her dresses or… or what you went with.

you knocked your fist against the door and cole opened it, shirtless.

“hey cole,” look at his face. just his face. only his face.

“hey y/n. What can i help you with?”

your hand flew to the back of your neck which you rubbed awkwardly. “can i, uh… would you mind if I borrowed a pair of jeans and a belt?” cole chuckled, then realised you were completely serious. then he gave you the jeans. then the belt. “need a shirt too?”

you laughed, cheeks stained pink. “i wouldn’t mind…”

he handed you the plain black one in his hand. “riding with me to school?”

“if i’ve got shotgun.”

“‘course.” he said, grinning.

you headed upstairs and got changed. the pants were big but with the belt, and them cuffed they fit alright. then, came the shirt. it fell mid thigh but once you tucked it in a bit it didn’t look too terrible. you brushed your hair, your teeth, and headed downstairs. george looked at you with wide eyes and you shrugged, “i don’t really like dresses?”

katherine sighed. “we’ll get you some clothes after school.”

“from the thrift store!” you amended.

she rolled her eyes but agreed anyway. then, you were sitting beside cole on the way to school, during the one class you shared, and at lunchtime. you weren’t ditching danny, just his time was split between you and erin now. they started dating. they were sweet, good for and to, each other.

you’d only been living with the walters for two days, but everything was great. until cole invited you to the lake house. two coolers had you feeling buzzed and when it was your first turn, playing ‘truth or dare’, you picked truth and ended up faced with a question you didn’t want to answer. so you turned, and pressed your lips to cole’s. his lips parted in surprise, but then he kissed you back, tongue slipping into your mouth as he deepened the kiss. his hands flew to cup your face, your eyes were shut, and you were feeling things. until someone whistled and another yelled: “get a room!”

next round, you were three coolers in and ballsy enough to pick dare. “i dare you to jump into the lake!”

you rolled your eyes. like that was difficult. sure, it was a bit chilly, but you’d been in the river days ago. rushing water compared to water the sun had beat down on all day was nothing. you grinned, and ran to the edge of the dock, canon-balling and sending water flying everywhere. when you surfaced you saw the asshole who wore cole’s jersey shaking water out of his hair like a dog. you grinned, and started to swim back over when you saw something that caused you to sober up quickly. the foundation and powder you had painted on top of the hand shaped bruise on your arm had worn off. gone. It was gone and fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck.

when you didn’t get out of the water immediately cole was curious. when your face reflected horror, he was concerned.

“you good?” you weren’t. he walked over to the edge and dipped his hand in. the water was freezing. “come on out, you’ll get sick.”

you shook your head, plastering a clearly fake smile on your face. “my immune system is really strong and i want to swim! i’ll be fine cole, gonna go that way.” you make a gesture with your head and begin to paddle in that general direction. away from the lakehouse, away from the people, away from the party. away from cole—or, you tried to get away from cole. he walked on the bank, steps matching your strokes as he followed you. “get out of the water, y/n.” you were still swimming, and now cole was having to duck under and climb over branches and bushes to continue following. now, you couldn’t even hear the people at the lake house.

“no thank you.”

“don’t be stubborn. this was—it was funny thirty minutes ago! It’s lost the charm. just get out, we’ll go back and…”

“i don’t want to go back.”

“then we’ll go home. would that make you happy? we can leave, we don't have to go back to school, i can take you home.”

“i want to stay in the water, cole.”

“y/n, just get out of the fucking lake. it’s not that hard! i don’t understand why you won’t—“

you’re in waist deep water and all of you is submerged until it isn’t. you stand up quickly. teats sting your eyes and emotion clogs your throat. “you don’t understand, huh?” your voice breaks, shatters, and cracks. “does this help? do you see why when i say i want to keep swimming, i mean it? do you see why i want to stay in the water cole?”

he sees something. he sees bruises on your arms. deep purple handprints put there by too big hands and with too much force—force that never should have been used on you. he’s blinking, his eyes are seeing but his mind isn’t thinking, not fast enough.

“do you see?!” you’re shouting now, sobbing too. “because the makeup washed off and now you can see it. bow everyone can. everyone will see and then they’ll report it and i’ll end up in the system in an equally shitty situation! cole,” another wave of sobs interrupts, “cole don’t make me get out of the water.” he doesn’t, he climbs in with you. water soaks his boots, the bottoms of his jeans, you hear it slosh as he takes large steps and closes the distance between you both. “y/n/n.”

“what?” it’s a sob, a plea.

“we’re going to get out of the lake. i’m going to walk you through the woods, out to the road and then i’m going to go get my truck. i’ll be ten minutes tops. i’ll grab my hoodie too.”

“it’s… it’s back on the chair.”

“the red one, i know.”

“okay…”

cole keeps his word, but after five minutes you hear his truck. it stops, he hops out. he sets the hoodie on top of you and you shimmy into it. “No one will see, no one you don’t want to know, will know. but y/n, you will never go back there, okay? not to that house, not ever, because if you go, i’m following, and the things i do, most authorities will not agree with.”

“i don’t ever want to go back there.”

“you won’t ever have to.”

“thank you.”

“don’t thank me for helping you with something that never should’ve happened. we’ll get you some ice as soon as we’re home.” cole cranks the heat up and angles the fans to point your way.

he opens your door for you and walks closely behind you. no one else is home—katherine and george both working and the others at school. cole raids the freezer for anything remotely icey and heads up to your room. he makes a pit-stop to grab his laptop and some snacks from a drawer none of his brothers would ever know about. he steals the blanket you like off of danny’s bed too—the soft one with the blue plaid.

you both watch the show, he looks concerned when you press the frozen peas to your side too. you lift your shirt, show him the damage and he freezes. “ugly, huh?”

“nothing about you has ever been ugly, y/n/n but jesus, maybe we should go to a hospital.”

“flattery will get you everywhere cole but there’s no denying i looked like van gogh fucked up starry night—and no hospital. they’d like immediately call someone. plus i think they’re just bruised and not broken so that’s good.”

“i’m sorry that this happened to you.”

“oh don’t do that. i hate when people apologise for things that aren’t their fault.”

“can i apologise for danny, then? for him not realising what was happening sooner?” cole asked. people weren’t perfect, you realised that then, cole having said the first thing that genuinely upset you. this was no one’s fault. No one but your scum of the earth parent’s.

“no. danny didn’t do anything wrong. i didn’t want him to know and usually i’m good at hiding these things.” a bitter laugh, and: “usually.”

“i blame the alcohol, but, i guess it’s nice that you know.”

“i’m glad i know.”

and he is. he carries your bag, your books, even goes thrifting with you and katherine. “i like this one,” he’d said, holding up a shirt that barely had any fabric to it. you rolled your eyes for the fiftieth time and picked out a baggy graphic tee shirt instead.

at school he walks you to and from your classes. he sits with you at lunch and helps you come up with excuses—none so awesome that they work without the grin and charm he lays on your pe teacher.

weeks later, your bruises were healed, and to the blind eye, the only indication you’d been abused was the occasional flinching. cole tended to call out his moves before he made them, especially if you weren’t sure exactly where he was. your arguments–few and far between, seriously, the only thing you’d argued about so far was where you went for lunch, were had with calm voices and distance between the two of you. cole was perfect. he never caught you off guard, he was just always there.

wouls see you getting anxious and move closer. “i’m going to hold your hand,” he’d whisper. when you needed someone to talk to it was always him because he was always there.

then, one night, the two of you were sitting on that same blue plaid blanket. the one you loved–the one cole had paid danny $40 for. you were both staring up at the same stars, both wondering the same thing: when had you become so close? you weren’t sure if there was a turning point, a particular defining moment, but cole had taken danny’s place in your heart as ‘best friend’. cole had done that and more. he was more to you than that. he baked your favourite pastry, would go just about anywhere with you, and he made you smile. he made you feel safe. he had told no one your secret–but katherine and george had a clue, enough of one that they welcomed you with open arms and seldomly raised their voices. enough of one, that for that first few weeks, the ice was always restocked in the freezer.

they had an idea.

but cole knew. knew everything. knew and made you feel okay in spite of everything. he knew and still.. still looked at you like… like that. cole, he leaned in closer. you waited and listened. “i’m going to kiss you. because i want to. because i love you how you deserve to be loved. and not because of some truth or dare game.

“it wasn’t bad though, right? because i thought it was a pretty good ki–”

cole walter kept his word. he kissed you, and sure, the kiss at the lake house was good. this one was just better.

#cole walter x reader #cole walter #cole walter x y/n #cole walter x you #mlwtwb #mlwtwb imagines #cole walter imagines #my life with the walter boys #danny walter #alex walter

453 notes · View notes

eee-lordy · 8 months

Note

Hiiii! Can you write about jacob elordi x fem reader who is in charge of the makeup and outfits on saltburn or elvis?

Maybe there is a video going viral where he is looking at her (WITH THOSE PUPPY DOG EYES HAHSHAJDVDSJ IM GONNA EAT HIM) while she is doing his make up and she is clueless, yk those videos where the music is lana del rey and the caption is like "me when im literaly obsessed with her" or "when hes completely in love with u>>>>>"

And when that goes viral, the cast teases him and they go on a date?

Idk i think its cute :3

───※ ·❆· ※───

You were never one to get star struck. In the year and a half you'd been professionally applying makeup to the mugs of many stars, you'd been unfazed by celebrities captivating auras. You hardly blushed when Chris Pine tried asking you out as he sat in your makeup chair. You'd laughed in understandable assurance as Billie Eilish apologized for almost knocking your powder kit from your grasp; when her brother burst in the room to surprise her. You saw your clients as just that, people who trusted you to properly apply blush and fake scars.

But all the composure you'd been proud to claim went out the window when you'd been assigned to work with the cast of Sofia Coppola new film. You hadn't expected to lose your cool. In fact, you'd been rolling your eyes as the hair stylist that shared your caravan had droned on and on about this new Elordi fellow and how dreamy he was. Some of the other workers in the hair and makeup department parroted her yearning for the guy. But you were certain you'd remain calm and cool in this supposed deities presence.

And then he sat down in your chair. And he looked up to you with an intriguing set of droopy dark eyes. And you knew Jacob Elordi was about to be a real problem for you.

It wasn't his fame. You weren't swept up by his essence because of the collective crowd on the internet drooling over the guy. It wasn't even his magnetism. Because he did have a lot of that, you wavered it was necessary to survive fame. But it was more the way he would look up at you from that make up chair. With those dumb stupid big beautiful eyes. And his smile that followed. And then the infuriating way he'd start conversations with you, those first few days on set.

"What'd you have for breakfast this morning?" Jacob would wonder, watching as you readied a sponge. You would answer and ask for his in return. He would mention stopping by a cafe earlier and go on to ask you where you grew up and if you liked it there and what the best book you've ever read was called.

"You've got to stop chatting away, makes it hard to do your touch up's." You'd smile, reaching out to adjust Jacobs perfect fucking face so you could work on his brows.

"Sorry." He breathed out, seemingly genuinely guilty. He went on explaining himself still, slowly as you continued to do your job. "Don't like awkward silence. Or bullshit small talk. Getting to know you seemed like the safest route. Since you'll be covering the dark circles under my eye's this whole shoot."

You laughed in understanding before announcing that you got it, and waved over the hairdresser on site today.

"Wait, before you go, that book you mentioned..." Jacob pointed your way as you turned for closing up your kit of brushes. Then you watched as the guy wrestled his cellphone from his jacket pocket. "Here," Jacob said, extending the device your way. "Write the title in my notes app. I will forget, but I don't want too. It sounded properly readable."

"Oh." You turned your lips down in a twisted grin of surprise. As you took the device from Jacob's grasp, you felt a surge of gratification that the guy trusted you enough with his phone let alone wanted to read a book you mention not having read since uni.

Not missing the way the hairdresser rolled her eyes, you grinned and found Jacobs notes app with ease, straining not to glance beyond your means. With the press of a few buttons you wrote down the title, and fought off the impulsive urge to include your very own phone number as well. That would be embarrassing, knowing full well this man would never call or text or probably even dare to glance your way beyond the makeup chair.

///

The next few weeks went by the same. Jacob would yammer away until you almost had to hold his mouth shut to finish his makeup. And you would fill the silence by telling stories of your own, because he'd mentioned he wasn't fond of silence and you knew your job went beyond applying lip liner, it was also to keep celebrities happy as royalty.

And all the while you blinked away thoughts of how funny he was. How beautiful Jacob was. You wouldn't let yourself realize he was exactly your type. You wouldn't let yourself dream that you might be his. You simply relished the times you made him laugh. Once you made him laugh so hard he cried, tear tracks ruining the powder you'd only just applied.

The hairdresser who was the leader of fawning over Jacob as soon as he left the room had taken to frowning in your direction most days. You reckoned it was because she'd never been able to make him laugh that hard, or at all, ever. And the stories she told him when he asked her to seemed to lose his interest halfway through every time. Try as Jacob might, you saw his eyes glaze over as the hairstylist droned on about her retirement plan or the grocery list she'd put together that day.

After acknowledging her sorry excuse for conversation Jacob would stop you from packing up and heading to lunch so he could ask you for more books to read, more films to watch, more stories from you. Then his assistant would interrupt, or he'd be called to set and you'd be left to head to the craft table with dangerous feelings of lust and intrigue to push away. You would not let this boy break you of your career long streak of professionalism, damn it.

///

One night, in the middle of a week break from set, you spent an evening scrolling mindlessly. When a tiktok with Jacob's name in the tags popped up, you scrolled away at the speed of light. You didn't let yourself linger too long on posts with him there, not wanting to know anything good bad or otherwise so long as you were assigned to work with him on this project. But it wasn't long before another tiktok popped up featuring the guy in a very familiar setting. He was too famous at this point. You watched as you saw leaked footage from behind the scenes of Priscilla, but weren't too shocked. The stars of the film were occasionally being interviewed by publicists between takes to document their experience, beginning to promote the film.

And maybe you let yourself keep watching out of a sense of entitlement, you'd been working on this set. You could watch a video of Jacob from work, right? You couldn't tear your eyes from him no matter how hard you tried now anyway. You watched as the person holding the camera zoomed in on the guy while he adjusted his suit jacket. You watched as he seemed to talk to the costars at his side. You watched as he looked up and smiled. And you couldn't help but melt a little at the sight, he seemed so happy, so at ease. And then you watched as Jacob's grin widened as he waved someone closer. And much to your horror, you saw yourself step into frame.

You remembered that day, where you waited on the side lines to fix Cailee's eyeliner. While the director was storming up a new camera angle, Jacob waved you over to mention the last chapter of your favorite book he'd almost finished reading. He was laughing over a bit that you'd warned him about the week before. And you were laughing over how excited he was about it, finally having someone to gush over your favorite plot with.

Now, huddled beneath the blankets of your bed, you slammed your phone down at your side, bewildered to know someone had caught your interaction on camera. Raddled to have just seen Jacob lighting up at the sight of you. Angry at yourself for hopping you'd read his body language in a way that suggested he really liked you that much.

When you picked your phone back up, you watched the candid moment over and over, trying to debunk Jacob's smile. Trying to convince yourself he was only being friendly, only cared because he had to find someone to mingle with during down beats.

And then you read the comments.

"If Jacob smiled at me like that, I would die."

"Imagine making him laugh like that she's so lucky."

"Who is she??" One comment read. "Her last name will be Elordi if he hasn't married her already, calling it." Someone replied.

You shouldn't have read the comments.

///

When you were due back on set you swallowed away the excitement bubbling up in you at the prospect of seeing Jacob again. This was so unlike you, to be awaiting the arrival of your client with an embarrassing giddiness. As you reminded yourself that this was your job and Jacob was simply a guest in your makeup chair- the man himself eased into the caravan, ready to get ready for the day.

"Hey, you! I had a bunch of points earned up to get two free coffees so I brought you one. I remember you said you like almond milk so I asked for that." Jacob was all smiles as he extended a latte to you. Awe fuck.

"Thank you, Jacob." You struggled not to sigh with angst as you accepted his very generous surprise. Luckily, he seemed none the wiser that you'd answered through gritted teeth. He just kept smiling as he headed to your chair.

"Oh, me first today lovie. Need to start your dye straight off, you're little makeup girlfriend will have to wait." The hairdresser announced, daring to grab Jacob by his sleeve, yanking him toward her end of the trailer. The other workers around rolled their eyes, sick of her endless commentary. You bit your tongue as you leaned against the counter, shaking your head when a coworker scoffed in the hairdresser's direction. Luckily, Cailee waltz in, ready for you before anyone else. You thanked God for the distraction, readying your brow pencil and chatted to the girl about her break from set.

All the while, your least favorite coworkers voice demanded to be the loudest in the room. She made everyone listen to some boring ass story and practically whinnied when Jacob got up to trade Cailee places.

"No offence, you're fine and all, just don't have hair as silky smooth as Jacob's." The hairdresser told Cailee but made sure her comment was loud enough for everyone to hear. "Oh wait, silly me,"

As Jacob settled in the makeup chair and began to ask if the drink he'd brought you was good, the hairdresser of your nightmares shoved her way between you and the person you were meant to be working on.

"I left of a bobby pin, how'd I forget," She droned in an annoying pitch, nearly shoving you over in her attempt to get closer to Jacob.

"Can you please get out of my space?" You called, annoyed that she was pushing you away from your station without a single polite excuse.

"Can you please stop being such a jealous bitch?" The hairdresser whipped to face you with a manic smile.

"Oh my God?" You almost laughed in shock at her comment when another coworker dared to reach out and pulled her away, and out of the trailer. Another hairdresser apologized to the room for the previous girl's behavior and stepped up to lead charge of Cailee's wig.

With no time to shake the rage that had been born in you, you pushed it down, biting your lip hard as you went about finding the right sponge for Jacob's foundation.

"Are you okay?" He asked, seemingly worried. And that pissed you off too. Why'd he have to act like he cared so much? Why'd he have to be so damn wonderful?

"I'm fine. Thank you again for the coffee, it...is kind of bitter but it was a really sweet gesture, I swear. Close your eye's please." You responded as calm and cool as possible.

"Bitter... sweet..." Jacob winked, just for you to see. It was the best thing you'd ever witness. And the worst all the same. You were sure you blushed. You tilted his chin and struggling to suppress how much you'd miss when you didn't get to be this close to him. He stayed quiet as you finished his face, and so did you. When his makeup was done, almost everyone else had left the trailer. The last remaining beautician was walking out as you'd closed the case to your kit.

"I thought you didn't like awkward silence." You dared to mention, as Jacob stood to leave. It wasn't like you'd thought to ask. It was just a thought that ended up blurted out. And then you were bold enough still to look up and right at the guy with those perfectly shaped eyes to find he'd already been staring right at you.

"S'not so awkward with you."

You really wish he hadn't said that. You really wished you'd never prompted him too. You really wished he wasn't still standing there looking across the features of your face like he was waiting on you to respond. There was a knock on the door just in time, and a voice calling for Jacob to hurry to set.

"I'll see you after lunch, right?" Jacob wondered as he moved toward the door. You muttered something like "Yeah sure," as you turned to start collecting your things. As far as Jacob knew you were headed to the craft table. But as your feet started marching out of the trailer, you found yourself headed toward the manager of the crew you'd been hired in with. You explained to her that you really thought it was best you turned in your resignation.

You'd never dared yourself to tread the line during work. Never been so enamored with someone you were meant to be professional with. It wasn't in your best interest to see how far this went. And it wasn't in Jacobs best interest that you kept lingering around distracting him with stories and novel suggestions.

So, on a decided whim, you packed your things, swallowed frustrated tears, and headed home for good.

///

You let yourself be mad once your front door was shut and locked. You threw away the stupid coffee Jacob bought you. You turned the telly off and tossed the remote toward the hardwood when Euphoria came on. You muttered and cursed and slammed cabinets as you made a carb heavy comfort meal and called your best friend.

The day went on and turned to night as you tried to stop feeling sorry for yourself. You began getting ready for bed, talking yourself into sleeping off all the weird feelings and events that had transpired today. Tomorrow, you'd find a new job and make sure to decline any with that one awful hairdressers name on the list of beauticians.

As you sat on the edge of your bed and set a reminder for yourself to job hunt tomorrow afternoon, a notification interrupted your typing.

Instagram was alerting you that one certain Jacob Elordi was sending you a fucking message. He'd followed you a couple weeks ago, when you handed him your phone to show him a picture of your beloved childhood pet. He scrolled away from it and found your handle to promptly pull up on his very own Instagram, following you with a smile.

Your eyes widened and your thumb worked faster than your brain, clicking the popup before you could talk yourself out of it. Oh, shit now he was going to know you opened his fucking stupid ass message. You really wished you hadn't met this boy. He wasn't even here and he was torturing your every thought.

"You were NOT there after lunch as promised. Call me? xx"

Before your eyes displayed a row of numbers that if pressed would call Jacob Elordi's cell phone. You tried really hard to talk yourself out of it. But being away from him for the last ten hours had really done a number on your heart. It missed him more than your brain was afraid to admit. Your thumb clicked the numbers. Your phone started to ring.

After one buzz he answered.

"I got off set to hear you'd quit and left me to bear that horrid hairdresser without you? Was the coffee really that bad?" Jacob's voice crackled through the line, soft and saccharine. You chuckled morosely at his coffee joke before responding.

"No pleasant greeting. What if it wasn't me calling? What if it was some crazy fan girl?" You dared to venture.

"Are you saying you're not a fan of mine?"

You wanted to assure him that you were probably his biggest, but sighed in place of a response, struggling to choose your words.

"What happened? That hairdresser should be fired. You shouldn't've left." Jacob spoke, as you watched the traffic out your window and relished the sound of his voice in your ear.

"It..." You couldn't help it. You couldn't hide it any longer. "It wasn't really her. I quit because of you, Jacob."

"Me? I- I'm sorry I thought we-" He sounded too worried, and you realized you'd spoken a little too cryptically.

"Not because you did anything wrong." You hurried to explain, interrupting his unnecessary apology. "It's me, not you."

"Is this a break up? I never even got to ask you on a proper date." He laughed a humorless laugh.

"That's the thing." You said. "I like you way more than I should've ever let myself. It's too unprofessional for me to work with you and have these feelings. I'm sorry, I shouldn't even be telling you this. Everyone treats you like a piece of meat, I hate that I-"

"So... what I'm hearing..." Jacob's voice rose a bit as he interrupted you, catching your attention off guard. "Is that I can actually ask you on a proper date? And this doesn't have to be a break up at all."

"Oh! I- wait are you joking?" You blurted, shocked by the tone of his voice and the fact that it seemed like Jacob Elordi was asking you out.

"I like you too, dummy. I've been doing my damnedest to make that clear. You know I don't just follow every wardrobe artist on Instagram and bring camera men cafe treats. I used my free coffee on you! I'm so sorry it was no good though."

"It wasn't the worst coffee ever." You smiled, feeling a calm and hopeful buzz wash over you.

"Well, let me take you on a proper date, for a proper cup of coffee, and talk you back on set."

"I can date you, or be your makeup artist, but I will not allow myself to do both. I have a very strict moral compass as a working lady."

"I'll choose the first option then by a long shot." You could hear Jacob's smile in the tone of his voice. You let him ramble a little longer about the day he'd had and how bad he felt that you'd been moved to quit. He asked you to meet him at the cafe across from the set during lunch tomorrow, and you promised you would in fact show up without a doubt this time.

Fuck finding a new job tomorrow. You were going on an absolute dream date with Jacob. But you were most definitely ordering your own coffee.

#thanks nonny! this was really fun to write #jacob elordi fanfic #jacob elordi x reader #jacob elordi x fem!reader #jacob elordi

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stardustluvs · 1 year

Note

I would love to see a Karl x Foolish fanfic where Karl is riding Foolish’s thigh while he plays video games. Maybe Karl was in the mood in the middle of Foolish playing some games, so they compromise!

Almost Caught - Karl X Foolish

MDNI

Word Count: 1,045

Pairing: Karl Jacobs x Foolish (established)

Summary: Karl gets himself worked up over fanart, it’s too bad his boyfriend is busy playing games with his friends…or…is it?

Warnings: NSFW, Thigh riding, Almost getting caught, Foolish referred to as Noah, Punz is also mentioned/referred to as Luke

Author’s Note: I adore this request and had SO much fun writing it!

Requests are open! || masterlist

Karl groaned as he scrolled on his phone in bed. He’d been mindlessly liking fanart on twitter for like half an hour now. A lot of him and his friends, and a lot of him and his boyfriend.

His fans were creative, to say the least. They were so very talented. He hadn’t realized how long he must’ve been scrolling because he started to find fanart from accounts that he otherwise probably wouldn’t have paid close attention to.

NSFW fanart accounts.

These accounts had taken time and effort into making absolute masterpieces of him and his friends. He couldn’t help but cringe a little at some of the “ships” that people had come up with, drawing him in sexual relationships with people he’d never even pictured in that sort of light before.

Then, there was the art that featured him and Noah.

Even some complete accounts dedicated to NSFW art of the two of them.

Karl knew it wasn’t necessarily weird for him to look through it, for fucks sake they’re dating, but it gave him such a feeling of excitement.

His mind created little stories to go with each piece of lewd fanart that he scrolled past. He hadn’t even realized how much this affected him until he was subconsciously grinding against a pillow he had been mindlessly cuddling.

“Fuck..” He cursed under his breath, the pillow not providing nearly enough to what he so desperately needed.

He looked at his phone again, switching apps to text Noah.

“Are you busy?”

He stared at the phone screen for what felt like at eternity.

“Playing val with Luke, why?”

Karl rolled his eyes, unsatisfied with this answer.

“Need you.”

Waiting…

“Come here then.”

That provided a rush that was sent through his body quickly, excitement filled his head as he stood up to go to the other room, where he would be able to hopefully find relief.

Upon entering the room, he could see his boyfriend sitting at his computer. He wasn’t streaming, thank God.

But, he was on a discord call. He muted himself and turned to Karl, beckoning him over. Karl obeyed and walked over to Noah who pulled him down onto his lap.

“You can use my leg to get off, but you have to be quiet,” Noah said softly, even though he was muted on his call anyway.

Karl let out a shaky breath at the realization that Noah wasn’t going to get off of his call. He would continue playing with his friends, with their friends, who would have no idea of what was happening on this end of the call.

It gave Karl an even bigger feeling of excitement. He nodded as he adjusted himself against his boyfriend’s thigh.

Noah waited a moment for Karl to get comfortable before unmuting on his call.

“Sorry, I’m back,” He said, resuming his gameplay as though nothing had happened.

Karl started to grind down against his boyfriend's thigh. He set a steady pace for himself, trying his best to keep quiet.

How on earth Noah was able to continue playing like nothing was going on was beyond Karl.

Karl sped up a little bit, his hands moved up to rest behind the other’s neck, playing with his hair softly.

In his head he had silently been begging for Noah to just fuck him, whether he muted his call or not, he just wanted him, so fucking bad.

He’d listen as he would bicker with Punz over something that had happened in their game, not that Karl was paying attention to that or anything, too focused on trying to get off to care what anybody was saying.

Noah pushed his leg up ever so slightly into Karl, helping him gain just the slightest bit of more friction.

Karl couldn’t help the whine that left his mouth. One of Noah’s hands moved from his keyboard to grab one side of Karl’s waist, holding him in place slightly, also as a warning that he needed to be quiet.

“What the fuck was that?” Karl could hear the question through Noah’s headphones.

It should’ve been terrifying, but God, it made him wanna be louder.

“What was what?” Noah asked, giving Karl a bit of a look before putting his hand back to his keyboard to resume playing.

Karl could hear the confusion in Luke’s voice though muffled and quiet.

Thankfully, the conversation passed and it had been forgotten…until Karl made another noise.

This time might’ve been just a tad more on purpose than the first time. Noah was starting to get worried at how suspicious Luke had to have gotten, trying his best to play everything off as best he could.

That’s when Karl had a bit of a fun idea, he grabbed a little at Noah’s hair and pulled.

“Shit-” Noah groaned, accidentally.

“Bro what the fuck are you doing?” Luke laughed.

Karl couldn’t help but giggle softly to himself. He knew he was being a bit of a problem, that was the fun part. He started to grind down harder into his thigh, his breath catching as he got closer to his release.

The way Noah was unable to give an adequate answer to Luke had to have been madly suspicious, and Karl, knowing he was the reason, was absolutely obsessed.

"I'm not doing anything," He lied through shaky breaths, his hands leaving his keyboard once more to grab Karl's waist.

He helped Karl grind against his thigh, having to bite down on his lip to keep from making any noises. There was just something about seeing Karl in this sort of light…

“I’ve gotta go, talk later,” He said quickly before hurriedly leaving the discord call and pushing his focus completely onto Karl.

“Mm..fu-uck,” Karl whined now that the coast was clear.

His noises became more frequent and high pitched right before he came, riding out his high.

When he calmed down, he leaned against Noah, catching his breath.

“You’re gonna get me in so much trouble one day,” He mumbled, thanking god that he was able to leave the discord call when he did.

“Mm… ‘s okay, I can help you now though…” Karl grinned, getting up off Noah’s lap and on his knees.

Thank god he left that discord call.

#dsmp #mcyt #dsmp ship #karl jacobs #foolish gamers #karl jacobs x foolish #koolish #ship fic #smut #smut fic #karl jacobs smut #foolish gamers smut #dsmp smut #mcyt smut #koolish smut #kit’s requests

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