#however it’s always drawn as OOZE hitting his FACE

[totally-not-an-awkward-okapi]

Out of nowhere I was hit with the idea that if artists struggle so much with Daredevil’s original yellow costume because he can’t exactly be stealthy like that, why not just fully embrace that this man is highly visible and handling that is your problem.

[chil2de]

Hii! It's me again, the "teasing mom's broyfriend" anon. I just- you about killed me with that sequel. Hot doesn't even begin to describe it, really 🥵🥵

I have more :))

------------------------

Megumi knows. He knows what a slut you are, knows you've been fucking his father behind his and your mom's back. He knows you only got with him to provoque his father. He knows all of that. And yet, he can't let go of you. He won't do his father this favour.

He avoids going to your mom's house with you as best he can, bc he just can't stand the two of you doing this to her, the poor woman doesn't deserve it. He never touches you when you come back from your mom's, bc he just knows you've been with him. There is, however, an exception. The only thing that can make him help you tease his dad is when they fight.

When it happens, Megumi goes visit your mom with you, and whenever she can't see it, he makes it a point to touch you a little more than would be appropriate in front of Toji. The mix of Megumi's hands all over you and Toji's warning glare could probably make you cum right then and there. Once, when your mom was out doing grocery shopping and Toji stayed behind with the two of you, Megs was all to eager to fuck you, make you scream his name, all for Toji's benefit.

Oh, you do so love it when they fight. You know you should hope for peace and harmony between father and son, but you have much more fun when they are at each other's throat.

You wonder what you would have to do to have both of them filling you up at the same time...

ugh okay sorry if this post is just a massive wall of text i had to cut down on spacing because i kept reaching tumblr’s limit on characters, and uh... incase you couldn’t tell, shit’s about to get serious if i wrote this much LOL this probably looks so clunkyyy :(( i apologise but i have like a line left or two? so i’ll compress everything by saying a massive thank you because this would not have been possible without your sexy ass intellect. i was seriouly fucking dying writing this, it might be the first or second piece i’m genuinely proud of and i thank you :) i hope you enjoy it as much as i did writing it

this piece makes sense as a standalone, but works a lot better if you read the previous piece! read my disclaimer here if you’re new <3

w.c: 2.8k / characters: 15k (incl spaces) and a special thank you to my beloved anonie. couldn’t have done it without you ❤️

day and night: two.

your bedroom door shuts with a quiet ring. you can only slump down against it, knees held into your chest. your thighs are still quivering like a poor little lamb.

as you move to type out a text for megumi to not come over, there’s a faint knock at the window. your heart burns, throat clogged and knees weak.

you don’t know if you can get up. hell, you don’t know if you should get up. there’s another few delicate rips against the glass and you manage to stumble over in fear of attracting toji’s attention.

“megumi?!” you mouth his name in alarm, dismay crawling onto your features.

your boyfriend gives you a dead once over, noting your matted hair, smeared mascara and weak posture.

of course he knows.

you can discern it clearly from the way he refuses to meet your gaze.

“can you just let me in?” he whispers, tone flat as his index motions over to the lock of the window.

you don’t know what to do.

after all, you’ve still got toji’s cum flowing inside you from earlier.

you fumble backwards, moving to allow his lanky figure to slip inside. megumi manages to hoist his leg up and over, squeezing inside with ease. he closes the window shut behind him, pulling the curtains.

“m-megumi? what are you doing he-“

he doesn’t have time to waste.

megumi knocks the wind out of your lungs as his cold hands seize the sides of your head, stealing your lips for a kiss. he tugs at your bottom lip, tongue drinking you in for a couple of moments like you’re the last meal he’ll ever eat.

“shit.” he hisses, pulling his face back and screwing his eyebrows in mutiny.

oh, but if you didn’t love the way he looked at you like you were pure filth.

“you taste like him. it’s disgusting.” he spits, wiping his delicate lips with the back of his hand.

he knew, but there was always a part of him that wished you wouldn’t submit yourself to the likes of toji. he just had to see it for himself.

“come on, megumi-chan~ thats no way to talk to your girlfriend, is it?

your mother doesn’t deserve this. megumi doesn’t deserve the heartache, either.

megumi can’t see anything but the spitting image of his father all over your body, licking and fondling all the same crevices that he has. but he can’t get enough of you. he can’t stop, can’t turn away from you. he knows that at the end of the day you're spoon-feeding him phrases he wants to hear.

but you’re so good to him.

your pussy fits him like a glove. your hand intertwines with his perfectly. your head is the perfect size to cuddle onto his chest.

there’s something about you that makes you more addicting than nicotine.

bony and slender fingertips ghost over your thighs. you can’t help the squeak that hiccups from you. megumi raises an eyebrow in scepticism before flipping the hem of your miniskirt up.

he scoffs, slicking his long middle finger against your hot cunt.

“don’t hold it in.” he reprimands you, flashing a grimace as you squabble with him.

“b-but toji-“

“but what? am i not good enough for you?”

you swallow thickly, chanting a small prayer before allowing toji’s cum to drip out of your pussy. you shiver, goosebumps licking your skin when you can feel the warmth of his seed ooze and coat your soft thighs. you can’t avoid the burn of megumi’s regard as he watches the cum slowly flow out of you.

he’ll make you want him.

megumi can’t fully comprehend why you keep running back to his father instead of him, why you choose toji over him. like father like son, it evokes a bubble of magma in the form of competition and jealousy.

he’ll make you beg for him. that’s for sure.

“get on the bed.” he whispers, tone cold and even. there’s no warmth to his voice, even with his usual monotonous tendencies you can tell you struck a nerve. it makes your stomach churn, butterflies swooping in and adorning your vital organs.

like a moth drawn to a flame, as though you have no mind of your own, you step backwards until the back of your knees kiss the metal frame of your bed. megumi towers over you, pushing you backwards as he crawls in between your thighs.

the crisp ring of his zipper sliding down clashes against the room. why should he undress himself properly for the likes of someone like you?

“there’s no point in prepping you. i think you know that.” megumi sighs, relieving his twitching cock from the confines of his painfully tight boxers.

you can feel the avarice swirl in your abdomen, cold fear stilling in your veins at the mere thought that you could get caught by toji at any second. it makes your fingertips tingle and stomach churn. when you wail a needy whimper, megumi only shakes his head before plastering his icy cool hand against your wet lips.

a part of megumi wants to let all hell break loose. if he allows you to moan as you please, it won’t be just toji hearing your cries of ecstasy. knowing your mother, perhaps she’d be a little glad to know that your boyfriend is meeting your needs sufficiently. whereas toji?

it puts him in a predicament. from a bystanders point of view, toji has no right to storm in here and to shriek at megumi for blowing your brains out.

why?

because he’s not your dad.

he’s not a paternal figure in your life. there’s no right for him to say what you can and cannot do. he won’t hold that kind of reign over you like your mother does. and megumi likes that. he relishes the idea of toji being forced to listen to you babble megumi’s name, to mewl and cry for him to hit it deeper whilst he can’t do anything but complain.

it’s not like you haven’t heard your mother with other men plenty of times. it’s only natural, right? hell, she’ll probably gossip with you about it.

a carnal desire glosses over megumi’s steel blue gaze. like a wolf waiting to pounce onto a hare. he can see the way your thighs squeeze, how you gulp before him with those doe eyes of yours. you’re practically purring underneath him. for once, megumi gathers the reasoning to understand why his father finds you so intriguing. there’s nothing better than having your own toy melt and oblige under every command.

your boyfriend’s hand finds its way to your chest, where he rests the palm flat underneath your breasts. he steadies himself, using you as leverage as he guides his dick through the cum stained mess of your cunt. your heart pounds in anticipation, drool coating the back of your tongue as your pussy throbs around him. he manages to fit his tip in, dragging the enlarged and sensitive muscle against your walls. your ankles flutter around megumi’s waist, lower body strength trembling as you attempt to pull him in further.

“m-megs- please..”

“what?” he screws his eyebrows, staring you down. you can’t find the words in you to plead for him.

“what the hell? why act all coy now?“

“that’s not how we do things around here, is it? so spit it out. i won’t get what you’re trying to say otherwise.”

megumi slips his dick out, grinding against your clit as his torso flushes against yours. he pulls you in for a quick kiss, enough to relinquish his appetite, but not enough to taste the filth that corrupts your sweet and innocent lips.

“those cute little whines of yours won’t help you, either.” his breath flickers against your skin, sticky tongue licking trails as he works to mark up your neck. you can feel the tears prick your eyes already. you’re suddenly hyper aware of your heartbeat pounding in your ears, how it throbs against your cunt and the droplets of perspiration trickling along your skin. you can feel megumi’s pulse heavy against your clit, the way his dick twitches as he smears the tip through the folds of your slick. it’s slowly driving him insane. but that’s okay. even through the static that bounces around in his skull- he knows that you hate it more.

after all, your boyfriend knows best.

your fingernails soar around to megumi’s back. you want to scratch him, but you can’t access his toned skin through the layers of his jacket. instead, you’re left fumbling and scrunching the fabric like a feline with an insatiable desire to itch its claws.

“megumi- please, it’s too much-“ you huff through laboured breaths, peering up at him through tear stained eyelashes.

it’s almost enough to make him melt. almost.

“what is?”

“this?”

he shifts himself back up, grabbing his dick and slipping only the tip in once more. he allows you a few centimetres extra before dipping back out and repeating the process again. megumi’s gaze locks with yours, as though he’s asking ‘is this what you want?’

“s-stop teasing me.. just put it in alreadyy~” you choke out a groan of frustration, ready to slam your hips down onto the full length of his shaft.

“why should i?”

“megumi, i swear to god- if you don’t fuck me right now-“

“-or what? you’ll go to my dad? good luck, when you couldn’t even fulfill your duties as being his toy.”

so fucking humiliating.

the way megumi instantly stands up and proceeds to stuff his still hard and leaking dick back into his boxers.

he’ll deal with it later.

you’re left stuttering, unable to form any coherent words, thoughts or insults to spew back at him. legs wide open, cunt empty and glistening in the blue tint of the moonlight.

he leans over, swiping some of your excess drool with his thumb before dipping it into your mouth. he half expects you to lick at his thumb, convince him to stay a little longer, but his skin sits in your mouth like a forgotten thermometer for a couple of seconds.

“if only you could see your face right now.” he hums, tone flat with a certain mockery.

sometimes, as the days pass, you can notice his resemblance growing closer and closer to toji.

-

the following day

you haven’t left the quarters of your room for the entire day. you’re stuck in bed, face mushed into the confines of your pillow. you’ve always held high regards of the fact that your libido isn’t necessarily extremely high, but when you’re promised dick just to be neglected of it? shit feels like you’re in heat. you can’t go to toji, because you’re mother’s home. not only that, but he’d be sure to teach you one of his lessons. you’re already shivering thinking of the conversation with him, how you’d even try to dig out of that hole you were already so deep in.

you can’t call megumi either… at least not for now. you sigh wistfully into the pillow, kicking your legs about on your bed as you hiss a groan of turmoil.

there’s a sudden knock at the door that snaps you out of your haze. it leaves you pumped, blood coursing through your veins and you shoot up like an attentive little puppy about to be taken for a walk.

“it’s open!” you clear your throat, humming.

the disappointment rocks your features so clearly that it’s embarrassing. it’s just your mother.

“you okay? thought you died in here, baby. lunch is ready, and your lovely megumi-kun came to say hello.”

what?

“megumi? that’s nice. did he leave a message or anything? like he just dropped by to say hello or-“

“hm? oh, no. he’s having lunch with us.”

“is everything okay, dear?”

“yeah! yeah, i’m good. sorry, i spaced out a little bit. small headache, that’s all. i’ll change clothes and i’ll come out to eat.” you dismiss your mother, keeping in the hyperventilation you’re about to undergo. she gives you a small glance of concern before returning to the dining room to serve her guests.

“(y/n)! we were just talking about you!” your mother hums, gifting you a smile of warmth and radiance as she pours drinks into some cups.

you can feel toji’s mocking stare dig holes into your skin.

you can fucking feel it.

you can imagine him saying it.

“slut.”

at the six chaired table, you scurry to sit the furthest away from megumi and toji. your mother shoots you a sideways glance, motioning for the seat between toji and megumi. you swallow thickly, awkwardly striding over to take a seat.

your knee accidentally knocks into toji’s and you instantly utter an apology.

“you should be.” he mutters underneath his breath, disguising the words as a sigh.

“so? you said you were talking about me?” you straighten yourself, perking up a semblance of cheerfulness and perfect innocence.

“oh, right! toji was just telling me how stuffed you were yesterday!”

your lids flicker in shock and you abruptly stare at toji, whose half lidded jade green eyes slowly land on yours before locking to meet your attention for a few seconds.

“sorry, what?” you stutter, finding it difficult to believe the situation.

“you know, the food? are you sure you’re alright, honey? you’ve been acting strange since this morning.”

“i’m fine, i swear. just some painkillers would be nice.”

when your mother turns around to rummage for some painkillers, she emits a squeak of alarm at the lack of them.

please. you’ll do anything to get out of this predicament.

“are we out? i can go grab some-“

“-no, that’s okay. i’ll head out. i need to grab a few extra things for dinner anyway. you three, make nice with each other!”

sure.

when the door shuts, you realise you’re out of options.

you can’t run away.

“so, megumi. how’s eating up after my leftovers feel?”

“leftovers? because one woman wasn’t enough for you?” megumi scoffs, averting his gaze.

“it’s not my problem that your woman came running to me. doesn’t that say something about you?”

“like what?”

“like, you can’t fuck her properly?”

“i can’t fuck her properly? but you’re telling her to keep your cum inside her? don’t you care what’ll happen if she gets pregnant?”

“see, megumi. she’s on birth control. you didn’t know that? and besides, if i didn’t know any better-“

toji finally allows you his undivided attention, staring right through to your soul.

“-i’d think your little girlfriend here likes walking around with my cum inside her.”

you’d be able to run a butter knife through the tension hanging in the air. the room holds its breath, and as do you in compliment of trying not to set things off into a piping hot mess.

“isn’t that right-“

“-princess?”

your fight or flight response kicks in at the malicious tone that coats toji’s tongue. you swallow thickly, throat parched and lips cracked.

but fuck.

if it isn’t the most arousing thing- the two of them squabbling over you.

toji screws his face at you, features lighting in a mix of awe and delight.

“really? you’re seriously enjoying this?” toji hums with mockery, eyebrows perking at your unusual behaviour. he can smell the sweet nectar of your arousal slicking against your underwear.

you abruptly stand up, ready to leave.

megumi’s hand curls around your wrist. he slings your hand behind your back, slamming you over the table. some silverware and plates clatter and dash against the hardwood floor.

“answer the question, (y/n).” he hisses.

you whimper a soft whine. there’s no way you’re answering that.

“get your fucking hands off of her.” toji barks, kicking his chair back.

“try me.”

something washes over you. a premonition, say. that if you don’t speak up, someone will end up seriously injured.

“i can’t choose between you two. i just can’t. so i think it’s the best option if we just stop this completely.” you sigh, prying megumi off of you. his stance relaxes and you wince at the pain in your spine. you rub your wrists in slight agony, refusing to meet either of their gazes.

“it’s been fun, but i think it’s time to draw the line-“

“no.” toji remarks offhandedly.

“huh?” you contort your face in offence. there’s something thick on megumi’s face, too. it almost looks like determination?

“i said no.” toji reiterates, taking a stride towards you.

his index and thumb caress your chin, tilting your jaw up to look at him.

“i don’t care how long it takes. whether it’s me or him-“

“-i’m making you choose.”

[isthemedia]

Wait…PokémonHitmanHacker Cyrus WATCHES security footage of Giovanni? Does he get off on it?

I wanted to write something for this PokeHitman!AU...might as well start it off with a bang.

(Cut for content-NO UNDER 18)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was sick. He knew it was. Watching this again and again-on loop. But he couldn’t help it. For as much as he teased and mocked the older man-seeing him work in the “field” was truly mesmerizing. That smirk, and that glint in his eyes. Even though there was no audio, he could tell when his tone darkened...when he was deathly serious.

Cyrus was certain if there was audio captured, he’d be watching this even more. Letting the words burn into his memory—

Maybe it was a good thing. He doubts he’d ever be able to have a normal conversation with the other without remembering this.

His specialty is hacking and deleting security; be it footage or codes to disarm locks-he could do it all. It was how the future was going to be. Everything technological-machine based. There was no need to stick to the “old ways”.

He couldn’t stifle the gasp he made as the footage showed the other man being able to deal a blow so hard to one of his would-be captures’ face, that he could see the small trickle of blood oozing out. And that smirk turned a bit darker.

“Gio...vanni,” Cyrus’ voice came out as a hushed whisper as he watched.

It was a small mistake on the older man’s part. Getting caught. Or maybe he wanted to be caught? It was hard to tell. But that was what this footage was. The arrest of Giovanni Sakaki. Several officers surrounded him, trying to apprehend him.

Secretly, it was Cyrus’ favorite footage. He saved every delete bit of footage or code. There would be a use for it in the future. Possibly.

However, he never considered this as a use. What was it about Giovanni that made him-feel- like this? Certainly Lysandre or even Maxie would have been more suitable. Lysandre and him shared many ideologies and both had troubled family issues...so naturally it would have made sense?

But, ugh, the Kalosian was far too haughty. His ego was massive. Sure he had a very controlled flair to his own methods-Cyrus couldn’t believe he was ACTUALLY going say it-they were almost, beautiful really.

As for Maxie...he did have to admit his intelligence was quite impressive. Too bad his anger would cloud his usual razor sharp judgement. Really, Archie was always going to be the better fit for Maxie.

There was a flash on the screen, and Cyrus found himself needing to shift in his seat. Heat pooling in the pit of his stomach as he continued watching. Giovanni had just let out his Persian, things were just going to keep escalating.

His breath was coming out in short pants as he felt his face heat up. “Giovanni,” he murmured as he watched. When it cut out, he rewound it, and watched it again. He already couldn’t recall what number viewing it was for this session. Third? Maybe the fourth? Either way, he knew he was going to watch it again. And then maybe once more after that-no maybe twice-or maybe the rest of the night.

Eyes focus on how Giovanni’s upper lip curled back into a sneer as several men approached him. Trying to corner the older man. To trap him. Oh, they had no idea how dangerous Giovanni could be if he was trapped.

Cyrus couldn’t help but lick his lips slightly. Giovanni’s face was surprisingly expressive. Despite his cool and collected demeanor, his face was always a clear giveaway as to how he truly felt.

Cuffs were pulled out. Though Cyrus knew they weren’t going to be used. He wondered, what would Giovanni look like if he was cuffed?

A sight that he could only fantasize about.

He made another small sound as he shifted in his seat. The heat was getting to be a bit too much. It was embarrassing when this would happen. But, there was something about Giovanni that made this feel, almost natural.

Those dull blue eyes focused on the screen, one of his hands trailed down…covering the slight bulge straining against the zipper of his slacks. Biting back a soft moan as he rubbed in just small circles.

The footage showed Giovanni seizing one of the officers by their wrist. Forcing the drawn gun and pointing it away from him, and down at the ground. The older man knew how to disarm a person with the barest amount of force. However, that wasn’t the goal this time.

That smirk. He said something to the officer. Cyrus couldn’t figure it out-he wishes he could read lips-but whatever it was seemed to have enraged the officer. They struggled against Giovanni’s hold. Cyrus’ eyes trained on how Giovanni’s hand nimbly shifted it’s hold. How one finger managed to position itself just right-

Then the sudden look of complete and utter pain replaced the irate look. The footage played as the officer fell over…his own gun shooting him in the foot.

Though the gun itself was now in Giovanni’s hand. Another shot, and two more officers had their own guns drawn. Yet Giovanni didn’t seem unnerved at all. In fact, that smirk just stayed on his face.

His eyes slipped shut for only a moment as he rubbed a bit at the bulge. Giovanni always knew how to turn any odds in his favor. It didn't make any logical sense as to how-but Cyrus saw it enough times to no longer question it. Perhaps Giovanni was never meant to be figured out.

His fingers finally working the button and zipper-undoing them. He shuddered slightly, a wet spot was forming on his briefs that was straining against his now erect cock.

The video ended...and once again Cyrus replayed it.

Biting his lip to stifle any sound as he continued watching. His hand stroking up and down...up and down. Breathe coming out in hot little puffs.

He got back to the part of Giovanni letting out his Persian. He didn't even need to give a command, just a snap of his fingers, and the classy cat Pokemon pounced.

A flurry of gunshots, blood spraying about. Leaving behind one last officer. Down on the ground, holding his bleeding leg as the Persian drew near.

The look of fear on his face was captured so clearly on the video. Watching those eyes grow wider-the skin going paler as Giovanni knelt in front of them. Again he said something, but Cyrus was beyond the point of caring what it was.

His mind was buzzing pleasantly as he continued to work his hand over his leaking cock. A moan slipping out through his pressed lips. It was building even faster now. Eyes barely opened, but he still watched.

Giovanni called back his Persian, as he still stood over the officer. He said something, and ended the offier's suffer--

Cyrus moaned as his hips bucked up sharply as he came.

How did he never notice it before?

How clear Giovanni spoke for that one moment. Making sure that even with his inability to read lips, Cyrus would know what he said.

'This is for you, amore.'

He was still panting as the video ended. Screen fully black. Letting his mind come back down to Earth from wherever it went off too in it’s orgasmic haze.

Those last few moments replayed in his mind. Cyrus couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped him. That bastard. He knew about this habit of his, didn’t he? Of course he did.

“Giovanni…” Cyrus mumbled softly to himself with another chuckle. His heart rate was slowly back down. His body suddenly felt so much colder than it had just moments ago. He also felt so very tired-but on instinct he just hit ‘replay’.

Maybe it was sick. Twisted. Definitely something wrong with him. But he didn’t care. Not anymore. Not when he could just keep watching Giovanni.

[lovestrucked-again]

Render Your Heart | J.Jaehyun

(Jaehyun’s Tattoo Edit - @rrregan​) Summary: Growing up beside your brother’s best friend forces you to keep your crush a secret. But who knew, the way you’d expose yourself was when you asked for help from a dropout high school student. When your lie of an excuse gets caught and your long time dream becomes a reality. Careful though, don’t get caught. 

Genre: smuT Pairing: bad boy!Jaehyun x reader (ft Taeyong big bro) Word count: 5.8k

Warning: Jaehyun has tattoos (sleeves, chest), hard dom!Jaehyun, fingering, rough, orgasm denial, dirty talk, explicit content, wet and messy sex, begging, orgasm control, spanking, humiliation, praise, punishment, teasing, nipple play, cum licking/swallowing, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, marking, cock worship, blowjob, throat fucking, hair pulling, gagging (on cock), cum swallowing i think i said that, rough sex, cockwarming, belly bulge, thrill sex? risk of getting caught, safe systems because that is very important to have, also safe sex please this isn't something you should follow

a/n: Yeet. I drank 2L of water writing this.  Also thank you @hyuckiesgf​ for helping me read thru this <3. _____

“Y/N?”

He slowly slides the paperwork off your lap, exposing your legs in the short skirt you’re wearing, the almost non-existent breeze from the fan now hitting your skin, leaving you feeling very naked. His arm swings across your shoulder, closing the gap between the two of you sitting side by side against the couch.

“Y-yes?” You stutter out, your head turning to see his hand resting so close to your face.

“So why don't you tell me what you really want?"

You gulp down the saliva forming in your throat as you watch his hand fall to your legs, the veins from his wrist bulging out as he gently squeezes your thigh for a response. “Hmm? What are you talking about?"

His left hand creeps up your skin, sliding up the inside of your thigh as he tip toes up your skin, tracing his fingers very softly, gliding closer to the hem of your skirt, “You want me to believe you called a high school drop out for help, on a university assignment?”

His hand climbs closer to the inside of your thigh, and the background noise coming from the TV is no longer audible to you. Your figure frozen suddenly, feeling all the tiny details of his touch, the texture of his fingertips, trailing along the inside of your thigh, going up and then back down, moving around in an eight pattern.

“Why’d you call me over?” He murmurs, his eyes focused on your parted lips, watching as they fall open slightly.

“I-I wait – hold on.” Your mind runs in a mess as you stutter out a random string of words in an attempt to think.

The hand on your thigh suddenly halts, no longer gently squeezing and fluttering along your skin. “I’m waiting?”

You realise the nerves from your stomach, from the touch in your thighs, from the dim lighting in the midnight timing, were all connected directly to your pussy. His touch, causing your pussy to self-lubricate and swell at its own volition, in strict disobedience to your control.

“It’s not what you think.” You mumble.

“Is it not?” He whispers, flipping himself to face you. His free arm flies to the back of the couch, using it to support his weight as he leans forward, keeping you encircled by his body. Your eyes glance over to the side, following the abstract shapes tracing up his forearm. The simple black tee rising higher up his arm, exposing his pale skin – mostly obscured by the smooth paintings in ink that wind up his biceps. “What are you staring at baby?”

Abruptly, your breath hitches, your pussy simultaneously releasing a gush of wetness at the nickname, the darkness of his eyes staring down at you. His fingers press against the damp spot in your panties as his breath goes to the crook of your neck. Your cry of alarm being quickly muffled as you bite down on your tongue in resistance. His breath tickles your neck and your hands clench onto the sheet of paper you’re holding, scrunching it up unknowingly.

“Should I stop?” Jaehyun removes his face away from your side, moving to face you, letting his gaze fall on your lips.

Your mind spins around in circles as the inner conflict begins. The two of you had always flirted but took nothing seriously, not wanting to mess up the relationship he had with your brother. Taeyong would also never approve of it, his own wish was for you to find a more responsible guy who didn't have so many bad influences. Which was also hypocritical considering his own nature.

Jaehyun watches as your eyes flutter shut, your body involuntarily moving up for a stronger presence of his touch. He follows along smirking, deciding to press a little harder as he finds your sensitive clit.

“Fu-ckkk” You draw out, your body sinking deeper into the couch.

He towers over you, his shoulders squared and blocking your view from anything behind him. His dark eyes sweep over you, his gaze trailing from where his finger presses, up to your naturally pink lips before he lets out a low, deep, exhale of desire.

“Can I continue?” He whispers, leaving a soft kiss at the corner of your jaw.

Your hand still holding onto the paperwork is now crushed, the sheet mushed into a ball as you dig your fingers into it. Your other hand leaves the couch, reaching out to his chest, flattening weakly against his muscles. “Jae- th-this, fuck, we ca-cant do this.”

“Why not?” He pauses for a few seconds, waiting for an answer, but nothing forms out of your mouth, only the lifting of your hips to meet his touch yet again.

His drawn back to your clit when you can’t respond, gently pinching at it through the fabric as you let out a stifled moan. Your palm weakens against his chest as your strength drains from your body, achieving nothing. You may as well try pushing a whole truck instead. Jaehyun wasn’t budging, his muscle and strength, his chest and shoulders, alarmingly hard. And truth be told, you weren’t trying to get him off.

You knew you were slipping, losing your grip on your rationality as you moan out again feeling his fingers tease your clit through the thin material of your underwear. As your body relaxes into the couch, your skirt slides up, revealing the little amount of skin left unseen, all the way to your panties. His weight is still barely on you but his leg wedges between your knees as he kisses closer to your parted mouth.

“What about my brother?” You stutter out, your eyes squeezed shut at the sudden contact.

Jaehyun’s lips brushes against yours, forming a smirk after hearing your words, “Taeyong? He won’t know,” he places a soft peck, “unless you tell him.”

It sounded safe right? Jaehyun wouldn't tell him and there’s no way you ever would. You nod along to your thoughts, but within the next second, Jaehyun is devouring your lips. His hand which previously laid against the couch, now cupping your cheek as his other hand continues to rub you through your panties.

Your arousal grows as you realise how screwed you were if Taeyong saw this, how you probably looked so helpless pinned underneath his best friend’s figure. Jaehyun continues, both stimulating you and checking the level of your arousal. The ripples of lewd, mind numbing pleasure racing through your body making you panic, as you constantly try to detect the sound of the shower in the background. Waiting for it to stop and for Taeyong to come trampling through the scene. Your pussy was oozing and throbbing, obeying his fingers and his crushing desire as you panicked for your life.

You had yearned for his touch and sensation and savagery, and he was giving it to you, just like you had imagined it, and you felt herself melting under his assault. Your cries diminishing and becoming more like beseeching moans as he slips his fingers under your panties, parting it to find your slit.

“Fuck your so wet for me.” He groans, pausing in between your frenzied kiss. There’s only the sound of your soft gasps for breaths against the wet kisses before you realise there’s no other noise.

“Jae the showers stopped.” You mumble against his lips, bringing both your hands to his chest, pushing him back only slightly.

“Then we should hurry, shouldn't we?” The frantic moan that escapes your lips are left to mean anything: fear, urgency, or imploring lust, desperate to relieve the tension in your lower stomach.

You begin to whine and whimper into his mouth, begging him to hurry before you’d be forced to stop in order to spare your life and what little dignity left you had in front of your brother, but Jaehyun continues to take his time.

“Jae-” Your rational mind tries to tell you that if he was going to keep this up, you might come, that you may lose all your self-respect to the combination of his touch, your helplessness and the thrilling shame of being so close to danger. What is he going to think of me? If he knew this rough treatment, this anxious feeling of being caught, can make me climax? What would he say?

However, the low groans coming from Jaehyun as he plays with you, teasing your entrance, was begging you to forget everything. The humiliation that was increasing seeming to connect directly to the spot between your legs as you felt your pussy spasm desperately, sucking on empty air, aching for something as he slides across the moisture.

As you move your body up, desperately for his finger to enter, Jaehyun stops moving, pulling back his face so you see his eyes clearly. “Stop grinding your hips at me,” he growls, “you’re going to make me cum.”

Your pussy clenches involuntarily at his words, releasing another gush of wetness. “Isn’t that the point?” you stutter, your body deflating a little against the couch, dropping your hips which were previously moving in line with his hand.

“Not right now.”

Before your able to ask what he means, his weight is off you, immediately leaving the couch in search for something. You stay seated, dazed in confusion as he picks up the scattered paperwork on the floor placing it neatly on the coffee table.

“Grab your jacket.” He tells you.

“Why?” you ask, your mind still in a muddled mess.

“We’re going out.”

As you hear the knob of the bathroom door handle fumble, you quickly bring down your skirt, hurriedly standing up and pretending to be busy. Taeyong walks out with a towel in his hand, his eyes glancing between the two of you as he ruffles his wet hair.

“Where are you guys going?” He asks, having heard the last spoken sentence.

Jaehyun throws on his beaten leather jacket, letting it hang loosely over his frame, “You never taught her how to change a flat tire?”

“U-uh no? Was I meant to?” Taeyong asks, confused at the sudden topic.

“Well now I have to.” Your eyes dart over to Jaehyun, meeting his gaze as he signals you to follow along.

“It’s cold and dark outside” Taeyong shrugs, clearly unbothered by whatever was going through his best friend’s mind, “but whatever, suit yourself.”

Jaehyun grabs you by your wrist as you trail along. The sudden change in temperature instantly hits you as you step out the front door. He doesn't say anything but you peek around his body which leads you, waiting for him to glance back at you and say something. But he doesn't.

“Where are we going?” you ask, having to jog slightly to keep up with his strides.

“To finish what we started,” he simply replies.

***

There’s no hesitation left as he unlocks the front door to his apartment - so conveniently located in the apartment building next to yours. His jacket is shrugged off before you’ve even had a chance to slip off your shoes, the front door slamming shut automatically by its weight. Your core flutters as you notice the sound of just your heavy breathing, trying to remain calm.

“Why are you acting so shy suddenly?”

You look over at him, removing your gaze from your feet to look over, gulping as you see he had also removed his shirt within the little time you had just entered, “I’m not.”

He chuckles at your confident reply, gesturing you to come over, “It’s not like this is your first time over.”

“Well it’s my first time coming over for something like this.”

“Like what?” He asks amusingly.

“You know what I mean.” You mutter, your feet dragging you closer to him so your standing just inches apart. He holds a smug expression on his face as you’re forced to look up at him to match his gaze.

“Mmmm I don't think I do,” he murmurs, bringing your hands around his neck, making you stand on your toes to reach comfortably around his height.

“Asshole,” you mumble, breaking his gaze. You stumble back a little as your hands leave his neck, realising how close you’re standing.

Jaehyun wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you steady, “Be careful.”

The pull closer towards him brings you face to face with his inked skin and your attention goes to the patterns in front of your eyes. Your eyes follow the delicate shapes and lines along his shoulder which start from around his collarbone, down to the centre of his chest where the tattoo meets to form a flower. You can’t help but imagine how he’d look if he was entirely covered, the gap between the inks being marked by you. What you’d do to suck on his skin and mark it yourself.

“You can touch them Y/N, they don’t hurt” he chuckles, watching your eyes waver.

You shut him up when the contact of your lips brush against his skin, softly sucking at the vines on his collar, then trailing your tongue towards the ink down the middle of his chest. You bring your attention back to the clear patches of skin around his collar, deciding it’d look better with some of your artistic touches.

“Fuck,” Jaehyun hisses as you teasingly graze along his flesh before biting at it softly. The hand around your waist tightens and you can feel his nails digging into your skin. His free hand slides up underneath your shirt, between your closed bodies. You nip and suck at the uninked patch, moving your head back every so often to see the dark colour forming a mark.

His hands leave their spots, deciding to remove your shirt and you help him, guiding the fabric over your head, exposing your bra, and then your naked midriff as you feel the pulse in your throat beating in a growing excitement.

"Mmm... Beautiful. Just fucking beautiful" he hums. You feel yourself blush, heat rising at his approval. It was insane to you, and without reason, but you desperately wanted to please him. "Baby, I could fuck you all night long and not get tired," He grabs at your breasts, going at them hungrily as he begins to kiss and pluck at your nipple with his lips through the sheer fabric of your bra.

“Please,” you mewl, weak from pleasure. His hands cup your breasts as he gently pushes you backwards, until your back hits a wall and he stands looming over you.

"Mmm..." he grabs your bra, pulling it up over your breasts, then attacks them with a vengeance, sucking, licking, squeezing one while he devours the other. His need and passion so intense, so overwhelming you can hardly breathe.

He lets go of your breast and his right hand goes back under your skirt, finding your soaked panties and pushing the crotch aside. He pushes his finger into you and you cry out, arching up against the wall as you try and support your weight. Your legs spreading eagerly as the sloppy sound of his fingers filled the room.

"Please," you whisper, "Please..." He fingers you till you feel yourself start to bear down the looming orgasm and then he stops suddenly.

You watch as his hand flies to his zipper, your breath hitching as you gaze at the bulge straining against the thin material of his jeans. He catches your gaze and decides to move slower. He moves with excruciating ministrations, his fingers gliding over the waistband as he undoes the first button before sliding the zipper down. Through lust hazed eyes you watch as Jaehyun strokes his cock, covered by the thin material of his boxers, the fabric stretched for release. Eventually, he kicks of his jeans, the more apparent tent now restrained only by a single layer.

“Eyes up princess,” He smirks, watching your eyes flicker back up to him. You reach down desperately, wanting to touch him. Jaehyun grabs your arm, pulling you back as he finally removes the last layer, letting his cock spring free, hard and angry, arching up in its full arousal, erect and proud. The moment you see his entire length you let out a low moan.

“I just want to touch it,” you whine, freeing yourself from his grasp.

“You can,” he pushes your shoulders down gently and you immediately sink to the floor in eager when you realise what he’s implying. “Show me what a hot little cock-sucker you are and get me good and hard, baby. Good and hard.” He takes a handful of your hair and pulls you closer, his other hand holding his dick up like a weapon, aimed directly at your mouth.

The sticky velvet head of his dick presses against your lips and you can smell him, the scent of soap and denim and male sexual musk. You lean forward at the sight just as his heavy cock slaps against your lips and you obediently open your mouth, taking him inside.

He exhales a grunt of excitement and you feel his hands in your hair, pushing your head down impatiently as he lifts his hips and thrusts himself into you. His cock slides into your mouth and fills you: hot, thick, and pulsing with life, and you hear him groan in animal pleasure as you sink down on his thick hardness.

Your lips suddenly turning wildly sensitive as he tugs at the strands in your hair, grabbing your head and fucking his cock into your mouth, pushing the fallen strands of hair out of your face so he can see you getting fucked.

"Fuck!" he moans. "Oh fuck!"

You continue sucking, slobbering, pushing your head onto him and pumping, pausing only to slurp up the streams of saliva that poured from your mouth and down his shaft. You can hear your own guttural moans and sounds of obsequious sucking, and when your neck starts to ache and your lips grow tired, you just hold your head and mouth still, letting him use you, letting him thrust his angry cock into your throat and making you choke and gag.

"You're going to make me cum, baby!" he moans.

As the words leave his lips, you suck harder, jaw no longer slack, wanting him to cum in your mouth. But he wasn't ready to give it to you yet. He digs both his hands into your hair, prying you off as his cock pops out your mouth, slimed with spit and twitching with pre-orgasmic spasms. Jaehyun quickly grabs his cock, squeezing his length to stop his immanent ejaculation as you cry out in frustration.

“What are you doing?” you whine as Jaehyun leans down, wiping the substance off your lips. You were desperate for his cum in your mouth, and he was denying you.

“Not yet.” As his head rolls back, you continue to stare, watching him squeeze and clench his dick and the watery pre-cum roll down the angry purple head. You pounce on it, reaching forward to scoop it up in desperate need with a single swipe of your tongue, savouring its flavour before swallowing thickly.

“Fuck Y/N!” He yells, painfully sensitive and reacting instinctively by shielding his cock and pushing you away gently.

You barely move, your hands quickly falling to your side to keep your balance. If he wasn't going to let you have his cock, you were going to satisfy your oral need another way. You watch as his breaths become heavy, his own attempt of calming himself down. Your eyes are still glued to his cock, wrapped tightly around his hand as your gaze travels up his length, noticing his balls hanging in attetion.

Immediately, you crawl forward, ducking your head to come up from below as you lick and kiss at the hanging bottom, your wet lips running over them.

“Shit!” he moans, his hand squeezing tighter against himself as he watches you in shock. You were shocked yourself but you were more concerned about your eager need growing in the pit of your stomach. You slurp and suck gently at his cum filled balls, grabbing his cock from his hand as he lets go. “You’re such a bad girl.”

But as you begin to pump up his shaft, Jaehyun pulls you up by your upper arms, lifting you off the floor and picking you up into his chest. For a moment your mind goes blank, suddenly forgetting where you are.

It’s not until you feel the soft fabric of the bed sheets under your skin that you realise you’re in a different room. The dim light shining through his open bedroom curtains on your left and the reflection of your body in the mirror on your right.

Your arms climb to your chest, covering yourself in instinct as you notice him staring. “What is it?” you whisper.

“Why are you hiding them?” he asks, crawling up to your face, his hands at the side of your head.

“Because.”

“because what?” he asks, his breath reaching your lips.

“Because I want to,” you sass back. You can feel his body leaning against your crossed arms and you fight the urge to move.

“So much attitude,” he chuckles, attacking you with kisses. His tongue glides through your lips, meeting yours and his hands find your shoulder, pushing down lightly to keep you still beneath him. Your palms go to his back as his chest meets yours, bringing his body down closer to you in the midst of your kiss.

Jaehyun’s tongue is questing and inquisitive; learning the corners of your mouth with practiced flair, drawing sensual noises from you. Sounds you didn't know were capable of leaving you. Tentatively, you reach your arm up around the solid anchor of his arm and your rewarded with a deep growl of pleasure from your partner.

All you had now was need, this basic elemental need, and you wanted him to take you and do things to you. You wanted him to take everything you had to give, because nothing seemed of any value unless he wanted it. Jaehyun notices your change quickly as you fight back for power, your hands gliding to his chest, pushing him. You flip him over, rising onto your knees so you’re now straddling his lap. He makes no effort to stop your strength but continues to pull you close with his lips, waiting for whatever you wanted to do next.

But you pull away from him, the constant thought that plagued your mind being asked, “What happens after this?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, confused.

You sit up properly, his hands resting at your hips to keep you steady. You hesitate before responding, deciding between your words, “Is this just for fun?”

There’s a moment of silence, his eyes showing the gentler side of his emotions, “Do you want it to be?”

You pause for a second, weighing your options. Of course you wanted it to be more, you had fallen for Jaehyun the moment you saw him, but you were sure he only saw you as his best friend’s younger sister, “No.”

Jaehyun smiles at you, bringing your fallen strands of hair behind your ear, “Then let’s work something out.”

You feel his body shift and your suddenly thrown to your side, landing softly on the bed with a thud. In the dark room, you can hear him shuffling before his hand reaches for your skirt, tugging them down in a swift movement along with your underwear. You let out a squeal in surprise but he ignores it.

He walks over to the side of his bed, patting his lap as you crawl over to his side. He guides you over, placing you over his knee, your bottom naked under his hand as you shiver in anticipation.

“I think you know what’s about to happen baby,” he murmurs, stroking the back of your thighs. You let out a choked mumble, your ass clenching as you wait for the sound. “Didn't I tell you no before? I told you not to keep throat fucking my cock but you continued,” he hums, “and do you know what happens to those who don't listen?”

“What?” you squeak

“They get punished.” He squeezes your ass gently, watching it fill his palm, “Here’s how this works, red for stop, yellow for slow down and green for I’m okay.” He pauses, waiting for your response, “did you hear me princess?”

“Y-yes,” you stutter out, heart beating rapidly as you laid vulnerably over his knee.

His gaze darkens, as you respond, his voice coming out almost two octaves lower, “Repeat it Y/N.”

“Red stop, yellow for slow and green for okay,” you automatically reply.

“If anything’s uncomfortable tell me okay?” Jaehyun coaxes with a gentle whisper.

He draws his hand back and you close your eyes for what’s coming. The slap of his hand on your ass amazingly loud in the room, the sharp sting and burn immediately felt. You yelp at the contact, clenching your ass for the next slap to come.

“Count them for me baby.” He purrs, pausing for you to answer.

You let out a shaky breath, “One.”

Another slap comes. You draw in a breath, mumbling out the tally “Two.”

“Count them properly or we start again baby,” he warns.

And another, “Three.”

“Four.” The heat starts to sink into your pussy, radiating through your body.

“F-ive.”

“Maybe you should have listened to me?” he hums in response – another harsh spank following his words.

“Six.” you whine out, crying in pain. As each slap continues, the arrogance you had from earlier drifts further away, the sting of his slaps sinking into your pussy and causing your muscles to clench and clit to throb.

“Your ass fits so perfectly around my hand.” He praises, rubbing the skin delicately after the seventh spank. He shuffles back against the bed, sliding you over with him.

He grabs you by the arms again, lifting you up easily over him and lowering you down between his parted legs. You stare at his stiff cock so close to your entrance and your eyes widen as you watch him move.

“Time to do some work princess,” he orders, hands tightening around your waist.

“You want me to ride you?” You ask, unable to hide the hint of power you could feel rising in your chest.

“Don’t take that fucking attitude with me,” he warns, his hands digging in the side of your skin, “Or we’ll continue our counting.”

You didn't fight him, desperate for something to fill you below. Jaehyun had handled you so easily, like a doll, lifting you up and holding you by the arms, kissing you, nuzzling his face into your breasts as you arranged yourself around him. At the slight contact your pussy makes with the velvety head of his cock, you moan, wiggling your hips back and forth to work the head of his cock between your folds.

He holds you up, not letting you sink down any closer until you groan in frustration.

“Jae just let me!” you scream, frustrated as you claw at his hands holding your body up.

He chuckles in response, beginning to lower you and you feel yourself stretch and spread around his invading length. Then, he lets go of your arms, gripping onto your ass instead as you whimper out in pain from the soreness of before. But that was the least on your mind, finally feeling in charge of fucking him and taking him inside. Every movement of your hips has you taking his cock deep into your pussy and Jaehyun grunts in delight, his hands pulling your body deeper around him.

“Fuck such a tight little princess.” He groans. His cock is huge, and hard, and it split you painfully, but the pain was just what you wanted, the perfect price for the pleasure you desired. He pulls your body towards him, his hands bringing you to his lips around your neck. Jaehyun took advantage of your busy mind, slowing the kiss down, drawing the moment out until you were leaning heavily against him, dizzy.

Your pussy was melting, your juices running down his shaft in an obscene display of need but you were loving it, the wicked sense of control you now had, doling out his pleasure as he moans and gasps simultaneously as you sink down on his cock.

However, when you’re only still half-ready, he begins to thrust up impatiently into you, burying his cock into your hilt and you break your kiss to sob. He was filling you, packing you with his length as you gasp, leaning your forehead against his, feeling so totally fucked and consumed by him.

"Sit up” he growls, " I want to see my cock going into you."

You groan at the dirtiness of his words but obey, pulling yourself up as you watch his eyes flick down to where you see yourself stretch in a tight ring around him.

“So perfectly made for me,” he grunts as you slide down. Jaehyun brings your breasts in his hands, finding your nipples and rolling them between his fingers slowly, pinching and increasing the pressure till you gasp, your pussy spasming around him involuntarily. Your vaginal muscles clench from the immense size, making its long journey in and out of his now conquered territory. “Keep going princess, show me how much you want me,” he growls.

You rise up again, feeling the sweet suck of his cock leaving you, then push back down against him, filling yourself up, grinding to rub your clit against his shaft. Jaehyun moans, sighs, and grunts with pleasure as you continue in a working rhythm, starving to feel his hot release into your pussy. His fingers still tugging at your nipples, bounced in his hands as he bounced on him. But your body grows exhausted soon after your first climax, unable to keep up the same pace as before.

“Fuck I c-cant,” your voice trails off, your thighs weakening as your legs were giving out in support.

Jaehyun doesn't miss his cue, his hand reaching for your ass and the other for your neck as he flips you over, you’re back hitting the sheets with a soft thud in the midst of everything.

“I got you baby.” He whispers, his cock still buried in your pussy as he nudges between your legs. He doesn't move, waiting for you to regain your breath as he gently holds your legs against the sheets, helping you calm down the tremoring of your muscles. “What colour?” he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Greenish-yellow,” you mumble, “just give me a second.” Jaehyun hums in response, waiting patiently for your response as he holds still inside of you. He nuzzles against your hair. You take a few more moments, breathing deeply before you’re ready, “green.”

He takes no time in returning back to his movements. He pushes your knees up to your shoulders, fucking you hard, deep and with brutal passion. You grip onto the surrounding bed sheets, his full length of his cock sliding in and out of you faster and harder than you could’ve achieved by riding him.

Jaehyun buries his face into the arch of your throat, peppering kisses into your flesh as you gasp out for air with every thrust. His lips trail along the side of your collar before wrapping around the skin, lightly suckling at it. He tugs at the thin skin between his teeth and you feel the slight pang of pain as he bites down softly. Nevertheless, he continues – sucking and biting as many hickeys he can into your skin, gripping onto your opposite shoulder and tilting your head for further access to your neck.

“Your mine now, all mine,” he murmurs against your skin, “whose are you princess?”

“Yours,” you squeak, voice coming out at a higher pitch than usual.

You can feel the building tension, feeling his cock knocking against your hilt as you move, your stomach bulging with his length. You grasp at him, trying to reach for his bicep which holds your knees up, wanting to tell him you were close, but you couldn't move, couldn't say anything. You can only lie there with your mouth agape, eyes shut as he continues to dive in.

“Fuck I’m going to cum.” He groans. But you were already drowning in your own torrent of orgasm, crushed by the relentless fucking and his deep grunts. You feel his cock throb intensely inside you before it begins to spit hot waves of cum into you.

He continues to fuck you as you come, your pussy milking his cock as he shoots into you again and again, his face now buried against your breasts. He was still thrusting as you come down from your high, his member deflating but still insisting in sliding in and out on the slippery bed of your mixed juices. Slowly, you float back into reality, your body still uncontrollably spasms as the thick cloud of ecstasy still clouds your mind.

“Jae n-no more,” you whimper, feeling him retreat from your sensitive walls as the overstimulated pain and displeasure kick in. Jaehyun listens immediately, moving his weight from you so his hovering over your sweaty figure, your hair sticking to your forehead.

“No more baby,” he tells you, his hand skimming over your waist and then to your belly. He pushes down lightly and you feel a rush of cum leak out and trail down to your ass. He climbs off, panting still as he rolls over beside you, bringing in your exhausted figure to his chest. Your clammy skin and his comforting presence washes over you as he runs his large hands over your back soothingly, whispering loving words.

The ringtone of a phone from the bedroom floor snaps Jaehyun out of his trance, and when he tries to move you cling onto his arm. “Don’t go,” you whine.

“I’m just going to answer the phone,” he coos, “I’m not leaving.” He places a soft kiss on your forehead before climbing off the bed to search for the source of noise in the pile of your thrown off clothes.

The ringing finally stops and you watch as you make out the outline of Jaehyun’s shadow placing the phone against his ear.

“Hello?” Jaehyun doesn't say anything else for a while, just listening to the person on the other side of the call while he runs a hand through his hair. You throw your head back against the pillow and sink further into the scented bed sheets when you realise who the caller is, letting out a muffled groan. “We’re coming back now.”   _____

Feedback always welcome! 

[fairyoftbz]

a rewritten faith | l. juyeon

🪕 pairing: bartender! reader x cow-boy! juyeon 🪕 word count: 4k 🪕 genre: western! au, 1920s!au kinda?, angst to fluff 🪕 tw: mentions of violence, guns, fights, close death experience, deceased father, false accusations, swear words, the reader has some trauma 🪕 synopsis: you are the owner of the local saloon and something usual will happen, but it will take an unexpected turn. 🪕 a/n: i had this idea while watching a western film with my dad and i hope it's not gonna be too bad... 🪕 requested: no

╰☆☆☆☆╮

Your head turned to look at the entrance as the swing doors of the saloon burst open, two sergeants dragging another man inside, his face and body littered in bruises and cuts. He winced in pain as they shoved him against the counter not far from you, both giving him a hard slap at the back of the skull. With an attentive eye, you kept on polishing your whiskey glass with your used piece of cloth, watching everybody’s attention drawn towards the three men.

“You bloody bastard! Did you really think that you would get away with that? Raising your voice at Sir Landfield and seducing his daughter to use her for your own needs? Who did you think you were, the sheriff?” the entire pub erupted into a coarse laugh, some men hitting their pistol against the wooden tables to express their mockery. You, along with the waitresses, were the only ones to remain silent, your eyes darkening as you kept on drying your glasses. “I never touched Sir Landfield’s dau-” “Enough, bastard!” one of them yelled and punched him in the face, blood now oozing from the young man’s nose as his head swung to the side at the violence of the blow. He stumbled on the right, his wounded hand quickly grabbing the counter to prevent him from falling.

The church bells rang as it announced another hour of the day, the wind shifting some dirt and sand off the ground. Quickly glancing outside, you noticed a convoy drawn by horses walking down the main street, their whinnying getting louder as the man guiding them whipped their back and sides sharply.

“Gentlemen. What did your good-for-nothing do to our town? And what brings y’all in my father’s saloon?” you asked, the attention shifting from the culprit to you. You arched a brow as you slid the whisky glass you’ve just finished cleaning and another one across the counter, walking over the liquors to fill it for the men with their habitual orders.

“Ah,” one of them grunted. “This bastard thought he was the best in town and started arguing with Lord Landfield over some laws. He threatened him and even tried to get into his daughter’s panties!” one of them shouted as you poured alcohol into their glasses, noticing an arrogant smile plastered on his face. You didn’t like where this was going.

The culprit raised his eyes at you from his stool and observed you working, your orbs boring into his for a quick second before looking away to grab another bottle of liquor.

“Well, I’m pretty sure he had some good reasons to speak his mind to the mayor. Does he have a name?” you smirked as you placed a glass of herbal liquor in front of the soon-to-be-dead gentleman. He thanked you by a brief nod, and his face contorted into a grimace as he rose his glass to his lips, downing the drink in one go.

“He deserves to be hung by the balls, he’s from the Lees! Lee Juyeon! No one touches the mayor’s daughter like that except her husband!” the man on the left banged his fist onto the wooden counter, making everyone applaud and raise their glass at the idea.

Of course, you disagreed with their horrendous methods, but who were you to counter. Since you didn’t want to be the next in line, hung and burnt alive, you preferred to keep your mouth shut and observe.

“I never touched her!” exclaimed the-said Lee Juyeon but was quick to get shut up. “You don’t get to speak up, you piece of shit! If I said that you touched her, you did, end of the story!” Another man threw his fist right into the apparent lawbreaker’s nose, who immediately wiped his blood-spattered face on the side of his dirty shirt and spat on the floor.

You could tell that Juyeon was surprised by everyone’s agreement, trying his best to hide the fear in his eyes by clutching his jaw. One of the stablemen left the pub for a quick second before coming back, holding a long, white rope with a dirty smile on his face. Faces lit up in delight when he skilfully threw it in the air and swirled it around one of the massive wooden joists before tying a slipknot on the other end. The young man’s hand clutched around his glass, and he stared at you, noticing a hint of despair behind his two dark brown orbits.

You’ve seen many men and women in his state, but for once, you spotted something different. Sincerity, pain, and hopelessness could be observed in this man’s behaviour. He looked like he couldn’t hurt a fly, but you also knew that men were good at lying and being pitied when it was needed. However this time, for some reasons, you felt your heart pinch at the visible fear daunting the cowboy.

The men of law sat down at a table near the swinging doors and lit up their cigars thanks to the waitress’ matches, only to slap her butt as a thank-you. She giggled like a teen girl, which made you even more sickened by the situation than you already were, many people emptying the saloon in fear of witnessing death.

“Oi bastard, are you thinking of a way to shag the bartender before your sentence? She’s pretty cute, right?” one of the officers yelled as the delinquent’s eyes lingered on your working figure. You sent them a death glare, and they elbowed each other with a dirty grin, the idea of shooting them between the eyes titillated your mind for a quick second. “Try not to get us thrown out, she can be pretty rough, just like her father,” you heard them snicker, and you turned around to sigh and roll your eyes, trying not to get arrested either by ‘disrespecting’ them, even if it looked really tempting.

Abruptly, the oldest officer pushed a chair with his foot towards the young man, puffing some smoke out of his mouth, the action leaving a greyish trail lingering above their bald, dirty-minded heads. The stableman grabbed the man from the counter and forced him to get on the chair before shoving his head inside the slipknot and tightened it.

Exhaling sharply as it already happened too many times since your father passed away and bequeathed the saloon to you, you closed your eyes and looked away, mentally cursing the sheriff for choosing your tavern for doing such horrible acts of what they called ‘justice’.

“So, Lee, any last words before we shoot you in the head?” one of the officers insolently said as he expertly swirled his pistol in his hand, his other holding the cigar close to his mouth. From where you were, you could see the culprit gritting his teeth, trying to remain neutral.

“No, I don’t. Because I have done anything wrong, except expressing my honest opinion to the sheriff. And, as much as you want me to, I never laid a finger on his daughter,” the man spat confidently, only to have the two officers and some other men around the saloon unpleasantly shaking their heads.

“I can’t believe it. Even at the edge of death, he’s still willing to lie,” locking the cylinder before lowering the hammer of his revolver, the officer pointed his weapon towards the young man, who stayed as still as possible.

Everyone stared at the scene with intensity, some drinking their liquors or taking puffs of cigars like they were watching and enjoying some entertainment. The culprit was staring intensely at the officers, making them understand that he wasn’t scared of the gun nor facing death. You, on the other hand, were exhausted of those illegal actions and atrocious scenes that already happened when your father was still from this world. Luckily, he always made sure to give you to the tailor next door when such things happened, but it wasn’t really helpful since you became responsible for the aftermath at a very age.

They weren’t the ones that got rid of the dead bodies they shot inside your establishment, they weren’t the ones crazily rubbing the dirt and dried blood off the wooden counter or ventilating the building to get rid of the gory, metallic smell lingering around, nor were they the ones getting scared and sick of working in such sordid conditions. Some graphic execution scenes were still lingering in your mind even years later and shocking you to the point of getting sick and wobbly for a few days, getting flashbacks of the gun firing off. No matter how many people you saw dying in the saloon or while walking around town after witnessing some settling of scores, you would never get used to this sleazy, corrupted method of getting rid of people.

And this case was the last straw. You could not handle another bloody situation, where people would be cheering and happily exiting the saloon as if nothing happened, leaving you mortified and scarred for the nth time behind.

As the sergeant was about to pull the trigger, you were swift to get out your dad’s revolver from the small compartment under the counter and shoot the wooden beam in two precise bullets. The waitresses shrieked and the rest of the souls populating the saloon flinched, hands going to protect their head and ears. You shot the wood three other times to make some dust and pieces fall to confuse everyone, hiding some bullets in your corset before going around the counter and grab the man by the sleeve. Among all the panicked people trying to rush out of the saloon, you dragged the man out through the back door, letting one of the waitresses take the control of the saloon.

“Come on, we don’t have a lot of time!” you said out of breath, the muddy ground staining the pans of your dress with a dark brown colour. The man looked still shocked to have narrowly dodged death, catching his breath as your hands were fumbling with the knot keeping your horse close to the wall. Seizing the reins with a soft yet skilled hold, you were quick to slide your foot in the stirrup and swing your leg over the beast, extending your hand for the man to take it.

He messily placed his foot on the wooden fence and jumped behind you, his hand still in yours as the fence collapsed under his weight. You felt his jerky breaths fanning your neck as you commanded the horse to race off.

“Ya! Ya!” you angrily yelled, repeatedly squeezing your legs around the horse for it to go faster as you heard some gravelly voices lingering around the saloon. Your horse neighed and picked up the pace, its hooves hammering the dried ground of the main street as you bolted out of the town. “Lower your head, we need to go faster!” you yelled and the man obeyed, your heart pulsating in your temples as you heard some screams and people opening fire towards you, bullets going through a few wooden wains from the neighbouring houses.

“Sorry about the fence,” the man whispered and you shook your head, eyes still focused on the dusty road. “That’s the least of my worries right now. Hold onto me instead so we can lose them faster,” you spat and whipped the reins on the horse’s neck, the man’s large hands landing onto your waist. “What’s your name, by the way?” he yelled so his voice wouldn’t be covered by the horse’s noises, and you slightly turned your head to the side. “Y/N,” You simply answered, trying to ignore his hands on you as he was accused of inappropriately touching the mayor’s daughter and pushed your feet down the stirrups as you went up a hill.

The town was quick to disappear behind you as you hurried into the taiga, following the winding trail as fast as possible. The lawbreaker was still holding onto your waist, his hold strengthening as you didn’t seem to be ready to slow down anytime soon. The concentrated look on your face didn’t subside at all, sometimes looking back to make sure that you weren’t being followed.

Your heart skipped a beat as your horse jumped over the railway line, his hooves toughly landing on the floor as the way started going downhill again, the man behind you hitting his chin against your shoulder due to the force of the impact. He mumbled a quick apology, but you didn’t even hear it, the wind blowing in your ears preventing any sound to reach you.

You finally ordered the horse to slow down as you reached another dense forest, the air feeling chiller as the sun was struggling to get through the infinite branches of sharpened pine needles. You and Juyeon kept your head low, the latter pushing his hat further onto his head to protect his already severely injured face from the spiky needles. He let out a small hum of surprise when you reached a small cottage with a wide range of greenery surrounding it, not expecting someone to live here. The air was so pure and fresh that it almost hurt your lungs, with no sign of tobacco smoke or dust from the road to poison your inner organs.

Getting off the horse, you drew the gun out of your corset and removed the bullets, tossing the revolver on a lonely stump. The man recoiled at the sight of the weapon, but instantly relaxed as you went behind the cottage. He grunted in pain as he got off the horse, giving it a gentle tap and rub its muzzle. It snorted quickly and turned around, walking further into the greenery to relax from the intensive workout you went through.

When you came back, the cottage key in hand, your gaze fell on the man leaning against a trunk, dried blood and cuts still covering his face. His bottom lip was split open, and his cheekbones were bruised, eyes bloodied by the dust and the several hits he received from the men of law. You sighed as you stared at him, hand sliding in the key and unlock the door.

“Come in,” you said as you pushed the door open, walking across the room to draw the curtains out.

Juyeon slowly limped inside, eyes travelling around the small living room, falling straight on a chair after placing your dad’s revolver on the table, the wood creaking under the collision. He groaned in pain and closed his eyes tightly, his jaw twitching as he suffered in silence.

You gave him some privacy and walked to the kitchen, getting some wood planks and a bunch of herbs and weeds from one of the cabinets. Just like your dad had taught you, you lit up a fire in the chimney and hung a small cauldron to the chain. You stood back up, the room getting filled with a heavy silence, not really sure of how to act with a possible criminal in your secret home. He sighed and groaned in pain many times as you prepared a brew and some lukewarm water to freshen up.

His worried eyes met yours as you heavily placed a wooden basin with steaming water on the table next to him, your hands sinking a piece of cloth in the warm water and twisting it.

“Take off your shirt, I need to clean and check your wounds,” you monotonously said, and the man’s hands hovered above his top, hesitantly undoing the first few buttons while looking outside.

He gulped as he exposed his torso to you, your eyes widening in shock for a quick second at the state of it. He got beaten up severely, red, and purple areas already littering his entire thorax. The bruises looked excruciating and probably caused some inner injuries, hence his unnatural movements.

You quickly pulled his shirt away from his body and ditched it on the table, eyes now wandering around his arms. He was pretty muscular – you couldn't neglect the steel-craved abs embellishing his torso – but the cuts and wounds were critical enough to damage the view.

Starting by cleaning his wounds and body with the piece of cloth, Juyeon tried his best to remain still, but it got intolerable at some point. He started hissing and cursing – not at you, he was grateful that you were willing to put yourself in danger to save and take care of him – but more in pain, his eyes flooding with anger as he recalled the sergeants’ faces and their accusations.

“You know,” the man started through gritted teeth before groaning as the piece of cloth grazed against a sensitive laceration on his collarbone, “I didn’t touch the sheriff’s daughter. I'd never touch a woman like that despite what they want everyone to believe,” you quickly looked at him in the eyes and chuckled, your hand delicately grasping his wrist to lift his arm to clean the residues of the cut on the side of the torso.

“I think it’s impossible for you to do so,” your voice trailed as you focused on your task, the man questioningly looking at you. “How so?” “She’s on the other side of the world, probably a thousand miles away from us. Serena is a successful woman, she’s sacred to her father. You probably saw her mother strutting around town like she’s the next queen, which is something quite ridiculous but funny at the same time. Serena is the pride of the family because she got married to an Australian businessman and is now living like a good middle-class person, you know?” his eyes widened as you explained everything to him, his tongue clicking in frustration.

“Lies? I became the scapegoat of those assholes for lies?” you defeatedly sighed and shrugged as the man was furrowing his brows, getting upset. “Welcome to our town, I guess. It is how we, no they, make the peace reign there. We all know that nobody shouldn’t mess with the mayor, but I guess that you are not from here, so you miserably fell into his trap,” you offered him a compassionate smile and carried on with cleaning him, wiping your damp hands on your dress as you got back to the fireplace.

You came back with the cauldron, hands enveloped in the wet piece of cloth as you gently plunged it in the water, Juyeon flinching at the steam surfacing from the warm-cold impact. Your eyes focused on the plant-based mixture you had prepared to heal and sanitise his injuries, following your grandma’s textbook to the letter.

Juyeon groaned again at the warm solution being applied on his body, feeling his skin itch and burn as you kept rubbing the product in. He looked up as you focused on your task, now rubbing his arm while holding his limb with a certain grace. On your face, he could discern some sadness and exhaustion hidden in your features, his mind wandering to what possibly happened to you to be in this situation.

“And you?” he started with a more hesitant voice as if he was scared to frighten a deer, “what made you the bartender of this saloon?” your hand quickly stopped working but resumed almost instantly, but Juyeon noticed.

“Owner,” you corrected, and his eyes widened, an impressed look painted on his face, “I am the only survivor in my family, they all died from sickness or old age. I became the owner of the saloon as soon as my father passed away. He was in this horrible business, letting the authorities do their dirty work inside the bar, away from prying, curious eyes. Of course, since I am a woman and is only good at taking care of children and clean, they keep coming here no matter how many times I refused. I, fortunately, didn’t have to witness every single execution when I was young, but it still sends me into anxiety fits when it happens. I’ve seen a lot of people going through what you’ve just escaped from and it’s almost impossible to get rid of the flashbacks,” you briefly explained, feeling the tears well up in your throat at the mention of your deceased father and harrowing trauma, but you swallowed thickly and repressed your emotions, keeping a neutral face.

“S-Sorry, I didn’t mean it,” he mumbled, and you shook your head, wetting your hands in the basin to quickly get rid of any remaining substance. “It’s fine,” you emotionlessly said, hurrying back in the kitchen to get some time alone.

Juyeon didn’t mean to hurt you by stirring some hurtful memories, but of course, curiosity killed the cat. Thanks to you, he had escaped his humiliating death sentence, and all he did was unintentionally pressing the wrong buttons. Agonisingly, he gritted his teeth and closed his eyes as he got up, the room slightly spinning as he limped towards the kitchen to come to you. Your shoulders were heaving up and down as you attempted to muffle your cries and silence your emotions, not wanting to break down in a room with a man other than your father. It was one rule that you forced yourself to follow, not wanting to appear weak to anyone's eyes.

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention to hurt you like that,” his cavernous voice resonated against the walls of the empty kitchen, making you wince and quickly wipe your face with trembling hands before turning around. “How could you know?” you said with puffy eyes, the sight squeezing Juyeon’s heart as you tried to give him what was supposed to be a reassuring smile. He slowly walked to you and took a gentle hold of your trembling wrists, his chocolate orbs boring into your own. The gaze that you had found quite intimidating a few minutes ago when he was angry against his attackers currently held something completely different. It wasn’t pity as you were used to when you brought up your past, but something more like compassion and tenderness.

“Y/N. I know I'm a complete stranger and a criminal in your eyes, but I wanna help you the way you did for me,” he started, and you stared at the ground, trying to get off his grip. “I don’t need help,” you mumbled, but he didn’t let you go, the grasp around your forearms tightening but still felt consoling.

“Yes, yes you do. Withdrawing yourself into silence won't solve anything, it will only give prominence to your sadness and scars and prevent you from moving on. You don't have anyone to talk to about it anymore, you keep everything to yourself and stay stuck in this state of distress. You helped me avoid death and run away, so let me assist you in breaking away from your past. At least allow me to try,” he whispered those words to you as if he was afraid someone else would hear.

Tears blurred your vision, something that didn't ordinarily happen when the discussion topic was your father. You always managed to hold back your tears, but for reasons that were still unknown to you, with Juyeon, it was like your brain allowed him to see your raw, true side for some reason, despite knowing him for less than an hour. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t from your town and wouldn’t be telling your secrets to anyone else to cause you harm or humiliation.

“One trauma at a time. You need to get some rest first,” you countered his argument by guiding him out of the kitchen, and Juyeon let out a chuckle, frustrated that you cared more about his well-being than yours. “Very well then, but promise me you'll let me help,” he asked as you walked him into the rocking seat where your grandfather used to take his nap when he was still in your life.

"We'll see," you whispered, helping him to sit down before giving him a small smile. He let go of one of your wrists and lifted your hand to his face, placing a kiss on the back of your hand while never breaking eye contact, the action of chivalry making your heart skip a beat.

"Thank you for everything you have done for me," He mumbled before kissing your hand again, his damaged lips curving into a smile as you let your hand linger in his, against his mouth.

[birdship]

Leave It In The Sun: Chapter One (a Disco Elysium fanfic)

Warnings: Full game spoilers, eventual spicy scenes, basically the level of adult content in the game itself.

General summary: A slow(ish) burn exploration of life at Precinct 41 after Harry and Kim wrap up the case and Kim makes the move to Jamrock. Mainly just about how Harry and Kim's relationship might develop, and a sort of character study of some of the employees of Precinct 41 in general.

------------

Chapter one summary: Two difficult weeks after leaving Martinaise, Harry finally reaches out to Kim. Chapter length: Approx. 4.3k words

The sun is only just setting over the streets of Jamrock, drenched in rain and neon. The city stops to catch its breath in the intermission between day and night.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT: And so do you. You could’ve sworn the nearest payphone was, y’know, nearer than this. Maybe that bone-shattering gunshot wound also isn’t quite as far along in the healing process as you thought either.

PAIN THRESHOLD: Brilliant claws of pain rake down your thigh as you lean against the payphone and try to center yourself.

You glance at the phone resting in its cradle, with some trepidation. Phone calls are always a bit… difficult for you. Especially these days.

SUGGESTION: You can still change your mind.

VOLITION: No. You came here for a reason.

SUGGESTION: Or… you could always just call her instead.

VOLITION: *Focus.*

You take a deep breath. The late spring air is turning chilly in the slowly setting sun. The rain drizzles lazily as it has all day, showing no sign of stopping. A handful of people are still--or already--out wandering downtown Jamrock, laughing and talking and hurrying home and running errands and entirely focused on just about anything in the world *besides* a washed up middle-aged man having a minor anxiety attack and moderate-to-severe hip pain next to a public phone at 6:04pm in the rain.

INLAND EMPIRE: The loneliness knocks the wind out of you. You thought you were used to it by now. It’s worse outside, around people.

DRAMA: The threadbare costume you created for yourself in the privacy of your dark, trash-strewn apartment doesn’t seem quite as convincing with an audience.

VOLITION: Stop the goddamn pity party and pick up the phone already.

The receiver is light in your hand as you fumble for change and the crumpled slip of paper you’ve had in your jeans pocket for the last two weeks or so. You slowly, deliberately dial the phone number written on it, as if some part of you is afraid that your fingers might just automatically fall into the patterns of *her* number instead.

VOLITION: They might. But you’re done hurting yourself.

CONCEPTUALIZATION: Well, maybe not entirely. Yet. But you’re done hurting yourself *with her* for sure.

INLAND EMPIRE: You still feel like you deserve that pain. But it’s wrong to keep using her as the knife you gut yourself with. She deserves better, even if you might not.

LOGIC: In any case, this isn’t about her. It’s about you, and it’s about--

“Hello?” Kim’s voice is muffled and tinny through the old, worn copper wiring. He sounds tired, but you guess that’s not particularly surprising. You’ve been pretty damn tired too.

“Kim, hey, it’s uh, it’s me,” you reply awkwardly.

“Harry? Do you need something?”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: This is the first time you’ve called him since leaving Martinaise, despite carrying that little piece of paper around for the last two weeks. He’s thinking, why now?

“Yeah, no, I just happened to be downtown this evening,” you ramble, “and I thought--”

“You’re drunk,” he says. It is completely without judgment. A stated fact. The sky is blue, the grass is green, and Harry Du Bois is drunk. “Where are you exactly? I’ll--”

“Wait, no!” you exclaim, a little too loudly. A nearby pigeon makes a mad dash in the opposite direction at the sound. “That’s not it! I swear I’m basically sober right now. Mostly.”

A long pause on the other end. “Alright,” he says plainly. “So what can I do for you?”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: Make no mistake, he’s picking his battles here and gingerly stepping *around* that “mostly.”

EMPATHY: He’s just relieved it’s even that much.

COMPOSURE: How embarrassing.

VOLITION: Just start over. Your first sentence was garbage, but you know you’re under no obligation to continue it, right?

You take a deep breath, then try again.

“Well, it’s really more about what *I* can do for *you*,” you say as smoothly as possible. “You know that big motor carriage exhibition in town? It just so happens I’ve got *two tickets* to it.”

Another long pause. “You mean the one that ends today?”

“Yes,” you confirm.

“And are you aware that it is currently around six o’clock in the evening?”

“Is it? I mean, yes. Yes it is,” you say confidently. “I am aware of the passage of time.”

“And you waited until now to do this?” he asks.

EMPATHY: He sounds more amused than annoyed, though you definitely detect a bit of both.

“Uh,” you falter. “Look, it’s open until 8:00, so do you want to fucking go or not?”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: About half a kilometer away, Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi is sitting in the kitchen of his new apartment, already in his pajamas and winding down for the evening. It’s a bit early for that, but he figures he should take the opportunity to rest before he tackles that mountain of backlogged cases he was promised upon making the move to precinct 41.

Two weeks ago, he said goodbye to the strangest man he’d ever met. A man he found himself inexplicably drawn to in the week they spent together, and whom he thought about every day since. Wondering if he would take the lifeline Kim tried to throw to him, or if that little slip of paper would just end up forgotten at the bottom of a vomit-soaked trash can in some shitty bar. Wondering if the dawning trauma of everything that happened in Martinaise and the restlessness from sitting at home recovering from its aftermath would combine to pull him down into a dark place beyond Kim’s reach for good. Wondering and wondering to fill the silence. And now finally the silence is broken, but whatever this cry for help is, it is not the one Kim ever expected to receive.

But he knows one thing for sure: it *is* a cry for help.

“Alright,” Kim says finally. He takes a sharp breath. “Sounds good.”

The walk to his apartment takes a bit longer than you expected. It’s not that far from the downtown payphone, but you still wasted a good 20 minutes on the journey.

ENDURANCE: You are expecting too much of yourself too soon.

INLAND EMPIRE: It’s always one or the other with you, isn’t it? Too much or not enough.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT: Twenty minutes to walk a few blocks? Fucking pathetic. What kind of cop are you? Hell, what kind of *gym teacher* are you? Man up.

ENDURANCE: No. It’s a miracle that you’re still standing at all.

PERCEPTION: Beyond the apartment door, you can hear footsteps and soft humming.

You knock, and the door opens almost immediately.

CONCEPTUALIZATION: Shit. You were hoping you’d have a few spare seconds to think of something really cool to say.

REACTION SPEED: C’mon, say something fun and upbeat to prove you’re not a depressed sack of shit who’s been spending the past two weeks drinking alone in the dark.

DRAMA: Showtime!

“Howdy, pardner,” you hear yourself say.

SAVOIR FAIRE: Finger guns! For god’s sake, don’t forget the finger guns. Without them, you just look like a goddamn lunatic.

You do the finger guns.

Kim does not seem particularly impressed as he slowly looks from your outstretched gun fingers to the twisted grimace that now wracks your face.

“Please, holster those things before coming inside,” he says humorlessly.

You blow the pretend, metaphorical smoke from each of your hot weapons before stuffing your hands in your pockets. As you do this, he watches with an appraising look.

ESPRIT DE CORPS: He’s wondering if this is *regular* weird or *drunken breakdown* weird. However, he is intimately familiar with your brand of stupid bullshit at this point and it doesn’t take long for him to place it in the former category.

“We should hit the road soon,” you comment as you peek curiously into his apartment.

“Hit the road,” Kim repeats with mild amusement, “in what?”

LOGIC: Oh. Right. The Kineema is property of Precinct 57. Not Kim Kitsuragi personally.

“Shit, yeah,” you concede. “But hey, if we call a taxi now--”

LOGIC: You’ll arrive just in time to immediately turn around and go home.

HALF LIGHT: You fucked up. You’re a fuck-up. Great job, idiot.

VOLITION: Try not drinking and blacking out all day next time.

LOGIC: Yes, but then…

“Fuck,” you inhale. “Fuckady-fuck-fuck. Shit. Goddammit.”

Kim waits patiently for you to catch up. You’re almost there.

“I should’ve called earlier, sorry,” you apologize. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

LOGIC: What is wrong with you is that you drank all last night, slept off a hangover most of the day today, and woke up in a daze about 45 minutes ago. But what’s done is done. No point in bringing that up now, right?

“Nor do I,” says the lieutenant with a small smile. “But whatever it is, I am no longer surprised by it, I assure you.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” you repeat, leaning on the door frame pathetically, a congealed ooze of mental illness and embarrassment. “Sorry for bothering you in the first place. You’re always so nice to me, even when I’m a pain in the ass.”

CONCEPTUALIZATION: Which is to say *constantly.*

Kim says nothing. Just sighs almost imperceptibly.

EMPATHY: Your self deprecation is frustrating for him, and he does not know how to respond to it constructively and compassionately.

ESPRIT DE CORPS: He *does* think you’re a pain in the ass sometimes, but a pain worth dealing with.

INLAND EMPIRE: For reasons beyond your understanding.

“Why did you agree to go in the first place?” you sigh. “You’ve got a brain that actually works, you knew it wasn’t gonna happen. If you’re trying to make fun of me, then, well…”

You pause.

“That’s just fine, I guess. Good job, carry on.”

He adjusts his glasses and looks away. “I appreciated the intention,” he says finally, in a measured voice. “And since I hadn’t heard from you the past couple weeks…”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: ...He was afraid you wouldn’t bother trying again.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “I’ve been kind of busy. You know how it goes after cases like that.”

“I do,” he says. He hesitates for a moment, then adds, “you’re welcome to come in if you like.”

You hobble into Kim’s sparse kitchen and collapse on a dining room chair. It creaks ominously under the velocity of the assault.

“I’m glad we have an opportunity to catch up,” he says politely, pulling up the other chair and gazing at your pained expression from across the table. “Your injury is healing well, I assume?”

EMPATHY: It is obvious that he does not in fact assume this at all.

You shrug, still trying to get a hold of yourself and push back the ache swirling at the edges of your mind.

He watches you struggle for a moment, then gently says, “it will take time to heal, but it *will* heal.”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: *So please be patient and kind to yourself,* is the silent plea left unsaid. It hangs in the air pitifully. You both know it’s there.

“Time hasn’t exactly been a good salve for me in general,” you mumble.

He’s silent for a while. Opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again.

“Harry,” he says finally. “What happened in Martinaise is not your burden to carry alone.”

“I thought you didn’t like *personal issues*, lieutenant,” you say.

“I don’t,” he says with a frown, “but this…”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: This is about me too, he thinks. As much as he hates to admit it. He doesn’t particularly like his *own* personal issues either. But the past two weeks were hard for him, and you didn’t make them any easier.

EMPATHY: He was worried about you, and--although he will never admit it to himself, let alone you--there’s a part of him that selfishly hoped you were worried about him too. At least a little.

ESPRIT DE CORPS: He’s used to this line of work, and so are you despite the holes in your memory, but it never gets any easier to deal with some things.

EMPATHY: There was so much death that day. It haunts you. And now as you sit in Kim’s kitchen, the alcohol slowly filtering from your blood and leaving behind the dregs of a headache, you realize it still haunts him too. You both added perforations you never wanted to make.

ENDURANCE: It’s too much. Your head swims and your entire body aches in the throes of repressed grief fighting its way to the surface of a sea of quickly evaporating Commodore Red.

INLAND EMPIRE: Warning! Trauma containment center has been breached! Evacuate the area immediately!

HALF LIGHT: You’re going to cry, aren’t you? You’re going to fucking cry. Right here in his kitchen. Why can’t you keep your shit together for more than five minutes straight?

You are entirely unable to keep the tears from rolling silently down your cheeks, unbidden.

INLAND EMPIRE: You don’t have it in you to really cry properly, like a normal fucking person. Not anymore. Something has disconnected the wire from your “press here to begin sobbing during your emotional breakdown” button, and you’re not sure what or when.

ENDURANCE: But human beings *cry.* And despite everything inside you that’s broken and rotting, you *are* a human being. You can’t not be.

Kim’s standing next to you now, his hand resting comfortingly on your shoulder. He doesn’t say anything.

EMPATHY: That’s the point of this whole shoulder-touching business in the first place--your disconcertingly unhinged behavior has left him at a loss for words, yet compelled to offer *something.*

This goes on for the longest five minutes or so the world has ever seen. But finally, you’ve wrung it all out of yourself and the tears stop almost as abruptly as they began. His hand gives your shoulder a squeeze, then he sits back down in the chair opposite you, avoiding your eyes. He rummages in his pocket for something, then hands you a blue handkerchief.

“Where the hell do you keep all these?” you mumble as you reach for it. “Fuckin’... infinite handkerchiefs around here.”

“What can I say? I like to be prepared,” he says.

“For drunk idiots who throw up all over crime scenes and have mental breakdowns in your home?”

“Usually to clean my glasses,” he says flatly. “But at this point, I suppose it *is* fair to say that it’s also for your various crises as well.”

“Well, thank God one of us is prepared,” you say. “What would I do without you, Kim?”

He hesitates, a strange wistful expression tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t know. What *did* you do the past two weeks?”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: As soon as the words leave his mouth, he regrets them.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t… That’s none of my concern,” he says quickly.

AUTHORITY: Who the hell does he think he is? You’re not a child who needs to be minded. You’re a grown-ass man who can sit alone in his apartment and get wasted if he fucking wants to. Assert yourself!

“Honestly? Drink, mostly,” you say with a self-conscious chuckle.

ESPRIT DE CORPS: He just stares at you with the bleakest expression you’ve ever seen cross his face.

EMPATHY: He’s so tired. So frustrated. So disappointed.

INLAND EMPIRE: Oh God! He’s *disappointed* in you? This is terrible. Anything but that, please!

“I thought I was doing better,” you say quietly. “Guess not.”

“You were,” Kim says kindly.

INLAND EMPIRE: Tequila Sunset hasn’t happened yet. Maybe it still will. Maybe it’s inevitable. Maybe when you took up that mantle, it was like some sort of alcoholic event horizon. Tequila Sunset is the only way it was ever going to end. What other force in the universe could begin to exert as much gravitational pull over you?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY: From the void we came, to the void we must return.

“Listen,” Kim tells you, “this is not surprising. It’s got to be harder now that you’re back in Jamrock.”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY: It’s *easy,* baby. All your old favorite haunts are here. You know all the cheapest bars, the sketchiest parts of town with the purest amphetamines… You can’t remember the names of half of them anymore, but the muscles in your legs can trace the steps there perfectly. That shit’s burned into your body forever.

“Yeah.” You swallow hard. “Anyway, what about you? How’s Jamrock treating you?”

EMPATHY: The darkness clouding his expression lightens a bit.

“Good so far,” he says. “I’ve actually only been here for a few days. G.R.I.H. wrap-up took longer than I expected.” He pauses and looks out the window. “But I’m glad to be here now.”

“Really,” you say with a laugh. “In this shithole?”

“It has its perks,” he says. “I’m looking forward to beginning work at Precinct 41.”

“You’re not working solo, are you?”

“For right now, yes I am,” he replies. “I’m fine with that. I’ve done it before.”

INLAND EMPIRE: The idea of sharing a workplace with him and yet not being at his side when he needs you… it makes you feel cold, lonely, somehow.

ESPRIT DE CORPS: You have a duty to Jean. Jean is your partner.

SUGGESTION: Fuck it, just say it. You know what you want to say. Say it and get it over with.

“You should work with me,” you blurt out. “We were such a good team in Martinaise. We could keep those good times rolling!”

“I’m flattered, but,” he says, turning his head. “Satellite-Officer Vicquemare…”

“Doesn’t give a shit about me,” you say. “Fuck him.”

EMPATHY: That’s not exactly true. You know it’s not.

INLAND EMPIRE: But the truth is complicated. It’s easier to just boil it down to *fuck that guy.*

LOGIC: Jean is bad for you, and you’re bad for him. Or, you used to be. And has anything really changed? Are you really any different? Maybe it was just the change of scenery that fooled you into thinking otherwise.

INLAND EMPIRE: Same old Jamrock. Same old coworkers. Same old bad habits. Same old *you.*

“I’m not so sure about that,” Kim says delicately.

“Forget about him,” you push, suddenly more serious about this than you intended to be. “I can arrange this shit with Captain Pryce, and I can deal with Jean.”

“I… uh,” he coughs. “I don’t know what to say.”

DRAMA: You’re in control of this show now. Pull an honest answer out of him.

You point at him and narrow your eyes. “I know what you should say: what you *feel* in your *heart*!” You pound one fist against your chest over your heart to drive home the point, then wince.

PAIN THRESHOLD: Please don’t do that.

You break the dramatic pose and lean back in your chair again with a shrug. “Or just tell me to fuck off. None of this wishy-washy noncommittal shit, though.”

He’s silent for a long time, watching and listening to the rain as it picks up outside. Then finally he gives you an apologetic smile and speaks.

“Harry,” he says kindly. “Fuck off.”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: Translation: maybe. But not now.

EMPATHY: He’s not angry, he’s deflecting. This is by far the nicest way you’ve ever been told to fuck off. Don’t take it too hard.

“Alright, alright,” you say. “Forget I said anything.”

You spend a while just making smalltalk at Kim’s kitchen table. None of it means anything, but it’s nice. It’s a nice, good, human thing to do, sitting and chatting with him. Makes your “regular well-adjusted person” costume fit a little better. The rain begins to let up a little in the fading sunset.

“You know, we could do something else if you like,” he says brightly. “Here in Jamrock, I mean.”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY: Yeah. Lots of stuff to do in Jamrock. Like speed and hard liquor. Or crying in the bathroom of a dive bar because you’re too fucked up on speed and liquor.

SUGGESTION: He probably wouldn’t go for that.

CONCEPTUALIZATION: There’s got to be somewhere else to go. Something else to do with him. Think. What do you want to do with him?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY: Oh buddy, are you sure you’re ready to open that can of worms?

The lieutenant watches you as you rub your temples in an effort to massage the awkward thoughts out of your terrible brain. Then he says, “you know what, don’t worry about it. It’s fine, we can just stay here.”

“Yeah, okay,” you say. “Sounds good.”

“I’m going out on the balcony for a cigarette,” he informs you. “You can--”

“I’ll come with you,” you interrupt.

ESPRIT DE CORPS: He pauses, wondering how many you might’ve had already. Then again cigarettes are, shockingly, by far the *least* detrimental of your *many* vices.

The two of you step out onto the lieutenant’s rather small balcony. It’s still raining very lightly, but this is probably as good as the weather is going to get tonight. Good enough. There’s really not quite enough space for two adult men to comfortably lounge around out here, though. You try to make yourself as small as possible as you fumble in your pockets for a cigarette and lighter.

PERCEPTION: You hear the soft click of a lighter and smell smoke on the gentle evening breeze drifting over from your left.

“Fuck,” you grumble. “I forgot my light--”

You realize Kim is holding out his own lighter wordlessly, still gazing out at the city sprawling out below.

“Thanks,” you say.

He nods. He pockets the lighter again once you’re done with it, then leans on the railing and exhales smoke with a sigh.

ESPRIT DE CORPS: Outwardly, he is silent and pensive. He almost seems anxious in a way. But in truth, he likes this. He’s enjoying standing out here in the rain and the dark and smoking his nightly cigarette by your side once more, just like that first night in Martinaise.

You rest your arms on the railing as well and try to map his sightline. Your arm presses against his in the cramped space, but he does not react.

“Pretty bitchin’ view here,” you comment. “Comparatively.”

“Mhm,” hums the lieutenant. “By Jamrock standards, quite bitchin’.”

PERCEPTION: His hand dangles loosely over the edge of the railing. It’s a bit smaller than yours and much thinner, bonier. Sharp and angled like a marble sculpture.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY: A work of art. Just like the rest of him.

SUGGESTION: Wonder what that hand would feel like in yours…?

“Everything alright, detective?” Kim asks, smoke escaping from his lips as he speaks. You realize that you’ve been staring at his hand for longer than is generally considered acceptable by polite society.

“Just spacing out a little I guess,” you mumble, averting your gaze.

“Par for the course with you,” the lieutenant chuckles.

VOLITION: Don’t make this too weird. Don’t think about that cigarette dangling loosely from his beautiful hands, or how soft his lips must be, or how nice it would be to just give up all pretense and embarrass yourself and hug him tightly right here on the balcony. Whatever you do, don’t think of any of those things.

CONCEPTUALIZATION: Shit.

“Well, it’s getting late,” you say, stubbing out your half-finished cigarette in the nearby ashtray. “I should probably go.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. We’ve got work in the morning after all.”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: You do?

VOLITION: Just play it cool.

“Yes,” you say, nodding stoically. “Tomorrow is Monday. I am aware of this, and that is why I said that in the first place, and not for any other reason.”

SAVOIR FAIRE: Nailed it.

“Tomorrow is Tuesday,” Kim says flatly, his face expressionless.

“I know that!” you say defensively. “I was just testing you. Come on, Kim, you don’t think I’m really that stupid, do you?”

He starts to say something, then thinks better of it and instead takes a long drag of his cigarette before trying again. “No, detective. I don’t think that.” Then he puts it out on the bottom of his boot and drops it in the ashtray.

The two of you head back into the apartment as the rain starts up again. You pull on your tarpaulin cloak in preparation for the long walk back home. But as you reach the front door, the lieutenant stops you.

“You know, you could just stay here if that would be easier,” he says abruptly, looking tense. “It’s late, and it’s raining, and…”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: ...And the route from here to your home features at least a dozen bars along the way.

EMPATHY: He’s worried you might not be able to resist the siren song of their garish neon signs and blaring dance music spilling out onto the streets like a red carpet unfurling.

“And your injury,” he adds quickly. “It was causing you some pain earlier, wasn’t it?”

HALF LIGHT: You don’t need his *pity.*

INLAND EMPIRE: Maybe you *do.* He knows you too well already.

EMPATHY: And, for whatever reason, cares about you a little too much. A terrible decision on his part, really.

“Yeah, good point. Plus your place is closer anyway,” you reply. “Thanks. Sorry to impose.”

He gives you a little nod. “It’s no trouble at all.”

Soon, you’re settled in on Kim’s couch under a small pile of blankets that still smell like artificial flowers, cloying and too sweet, freshly laundered.

He says good night and disappears into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. It’s strange somehow, lying here in his living room alone in the dark. Like you’re somewhere you shouldn’t be. Like sneaking into a museum after it closes.

PERCEPTION: In the hazy twilight of impending sleep, you notice a calendar on the wall across from you. You can just barely make it out in the dim light, and you realize something.

“Son of a bitch,” you shout, “tomorrow *is* Monday!”

Just before you retreat into the blanket nest you could swear you hear a muffled apology from the next room.

[whydoyouwantmyname]

Imagine picking up the phone.....

Your burner was on the dash of the black 1967 Chevy Nova, your legs stretched across your front seat, entrapping the bag of fast food between your legs and the seats. Your to go container of pecan pie firmly in your hand as you went in with the first bite with the fork. In the back of your head you couldn’t help but think of how green with envy he would have been that you had found the last slice of pecan pie somewhere, since he never could. As the fork cut into the tip your phone began to vibrate, causing your eyes to lift and met it. Assuming it was Bobby just calling with another random case you decided to ignore it, and savored the first bite of nutty, sweet deliciousness. However it was interuppeted by the phone ringing again. This time you dropped the fork and leaned over, and answered it without even checking if it was Bobby, I mean, he had been the only one who ever called you anymore, so you just assumed it was him.

“This better be a big one Bobby, cause you just interrupted my one on one time with this slice of Pecan Pie.”

The other end was silent, after several seconds you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, “Bobby, did you drunk dial me again?”

You were met with more silence, and finally said, “You have till the count of three to say something. One.....Two..... Two and A half.... Thr...”

“[Y/N].” His voice was hushed, as though he couldn’t believe you picked up, but you knew that voice anywhere. Your heart stopped, as you took a slow deep inhale, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you went silent.

“Sweetheart, please, say something.” He pleaded

“Who is this?” You asked, as tears brimmed your eyes, it couldn’t be him.... he was dead. You watched him die, you watched as she opened the door, she had you and Sam pinned in place, you watched her call in her hound. You watched as your boyfriend’s chest was shredded to ribbons, you watched his crimson blood ooze out of his body and onto the wooden flooring. You held his cold corpse as the crimson liquid absorbed into your skinny jeans, and stained the denim, you sat in a room with Bobby and Sam arguing over how to bury him, you threw the first shovel of dirt onto his pine box.

“It’s me, it’s Dean.” He whispered

“This isn’t funny.” You replied

“Just.... I need you to believe me, I’m at the abandoned gas station in Pontiac, just a few miles from where I was buried.”

“How do I know this isn’t a trap.” You breathed out

“You don’t. You just gotta trust me.”

“Just.... stay put.”

It took you an hour, but eventually you got to the station, all the lights were off, the windows blown out. You sat there for a few seconds, still trying to wrap your head around what you heard on the phone, before getting out, in your hand you held your gun, and a silver knife. As the door slowly creaked open, you slowly wandered into the empty space, and whispered, “Dean?”

That’s when you heard the toilet flush, and the sink turn on, your attention drawn to the shut door that was letting the faintest yellow glow escape from underneath it. Your gun slowly rose and pointed at the glow as you waited for it to open, when it did, you felt all your air leave your lungs.

His emerald eyes met yours, and a smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, “Glad to see you too sweetheart.”

“Prove to me you are really Dean, or I’ll shoot motherfucker.” You got out, tears brimming your eyes as he put his hands up.

“I asked you out on a formal date a week after Sam skipped town to go to Stanford. You had just gotten back from a hunt with your dad, who was coming to help my old man with a vampire case in Chincoteague, Virginia. We were in a dusty old motel room, both of us were pissed that our dads didn’t want us to go on the hunt with them. We were both discussing how idiotic it was, and then you blurted out that you were so angry that you just wanted to get railed, to forget about it. One thing lead to another and pretty soon I had you under the sheets of my bed, begging for more. When we were done, I looked at you, and told you we should have done that sooner, and then asked if you wanted to throw my shirt on and go to the bar down the street for some food. While we were there I told you it was a date, and you giggled, telling me you weren’t going to go on a date with me after that, and that you wanted a formal date. So I asked if the following day you would like to go on a date to the diner down the block, you agreed, on one condition; we had to go back to the motel and bang again. The next day I brought you [Your fav flower], and I dressed in my nicest jeans and tshirt, you were wearing a green sundress with little yellow flowers on it, and a pair of sandals. That was your outfit for when you were working causal cases and trying to befriend the locals for more information. You ordered a salad, I ordered fries, a classic cheese burger with no onions, and a milkshake. The reason I got no onions was because I knew you were going to want some of my burger, and you hate onions. You took one bite of the nasty salad, and asked for a bite of my burger and ate half my fries. Then we got a slice of blueberry pie and shared it, before walking back to the motel. That night you looked at me and asked if now we were officially dating, and I said, If you wanna be. However when people ask us how we started dating, we always just say that it happened, we weren’t sure when, or how, but it just did, because you don’t want people to know that we had sex before we started.”

“Dean.” You looked at him with tears in your eyes, knowing it was your Dean in front of you, no one else knew any of that information, not even Sam.

“If you want, I can use the silver knife to prove it.” His hand extended towards you, as you took the knife and slid it across the floor, gun still pointed at his chest. He slowly picked it up and rolled up his sleeve, before tracing the blade smoothly against his forearm. As the blood slowly trickled down he raised his hands, “See.”

With that you lowered the gun and slowly approached him, his eyes cautiously on you as you stopped two feet away, and quickly raised your hand. The cold water hitting his face as he flinched away, and then glared at you, “Sorry, just covering my bases.” You replied, before rushing into his chest. The droplets of holy water hitting your head as he wrapped his arms tightly around you, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“I missed you so much.” You whispered, pulling him tighter, as he rubbed his hand up your back

“So, how is everyone doing?” He asked as you pulled back and looked at him, “Sweetheart, I have so much to catch you up on.”

[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Evan’s 6✩ Inspiration: Umbrae Secrets [繁荫秘语] Date Translation (Prologue)

“I saw Mr. Lu in the elevator just now! He was acting different from his usual self and the look on his face was absolutely frigid…”

*Light and Night Master-list | Evan’s Personal Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *This 6✩ Inspiration has 8 Endings!! *Evan’s tag will be #For Night, For Revolution

It was an ordinary day of work. I’d just gotten to the office when Li Man’man opened the door and entered the room.

Li Man'man: No way, no way! You’ll never believe it! I’m doing all of you a favour by reminding you to behave today.

Brother Mao: Huh? What’s gotten you into such a tizzy?

Li Man’man rubbed the goosebumps that had arisen on her arms, shivering as she recalled what she’d seen.

Li Man'man: I saw Mr. Lu in the elevator just now! He was acting different from his usual self and the look on his face was absolutely frigid…

Li Man'man: I thought I’d turn into a block of ice in no time flat the moment our gazes met!

MC: What?

Hearing her recollection, I couldn’t help but to suddenly think back to what happened yesterday during lunch hour.

❖☆———————————★❖

At noon, I’d compiled a set of documents related to jewellery designs, just as Evan had requested and brought it up to his office.

A voice sounded from within when I knocked on the door of his office. It sounded unusually indifferent.

Evan: Come in.

❖☆———————————★❖

Pushing the door open, I saw Evan leaning against his chair, his brows were furrowed, hanging low, and there seemed to be thick storm clouds brewing in his eyes.

He was still staring blankly out the window in a daze when I went up to his desk.

Evan: Just leave it there.

MC: Okay.

Hearing me, he turned. The dark look on his face instantly lightened up.

Evan: Hm? Oh, it's you.

Evan: Sorry, I was just thinking about something.

Recalling the unusual look he had on his face when I entered, I couldn’t help but step on eggshells around him.

MC: Don't worry about it. Here are the documents you requested. Are you… okay?

Before he could reply, however, the landline on his desk suddenly rang, interrupting our conversation.

MC: I'll leave you to it!

Evan nodded apologetically at me and I took my leave from his office.

❖☆———————————★❖

Did something happen to make him unhappy…?

With his personality, he wouldn’t tell anyone about his troubles even if something WAS troubling him, no doubt.

❖☆———————————★❖

When I got home at night, I switched on the TV. It was coincidentally broadcasting a camping-related program.

The lush green forest, the joyous chirruping of birds and their songs… Everything there was powered by Mother Nature’s power of healing, capable of washing away all exhaustion in one’s body and mind.

I didn't know why I thought of Evan again, but I did.

MC: There’s a gigantic forest at the outskirts of Guangqi City and it’s clear weather out all the time now.

MC: Maybe he might feel better if I can somehow get him out to the forest for a walk...

An idea popped into my head and I scrambled to fetch my phone, searching for the familiar name in my contacts.

I was just about to hit the call button when I suddenly thought of a plausible issue.

MC: I don’t think he’ll reject me regardless if he wants to go or not if I invite him directly like that.

MC: Maybe I should feel around for his thoughts about it so that I don’t unknowingly coerce him into anything.

After pondering it for a while, I hit the dial button.

❖☆———————————★❖

Evan: (Y/n)? What's the matter?

MC: … Evan, I… err, have gotten interested in coffee lately.

Evan: Really? What flavour of coffee do you like? I'll be glad to recommend you things.

MC: Oh… I haven't decided yet.

MC: Ahem, have you ever seen a coffee tree? I've never seen it myself with my own two eyes! I really want to go see one~

Evan: About that…

He sounded hesitant, there was no doubt about it. I awkwardly scratched my head. 

Did I come off too strange by bringing up that question out of the blue!?

Evan: Coffee trees have strict requirements when it comes to the environment they’re grown in. And as far as I’m aware, the PH levels of the soil and the amount of rainfall here in Guangqi City do not fit their criteria.

Evan: So, I'm afraid it'll be hard for you to spot one in Guangqi City.

Evan: But we can go see one together in Africa during your next vacation if you'd like.

MC: Eh? Africa? No need then.

MC: Ahaha… then, how about...

When there’s a will, there’s a way. I saw a glimmer of light at the end of the dark path in my mind.

MC: Then, what about a bamboo pith?

MC: I had some bamboo piths while eating hotpot a couple of days ago! I find that it’s a very amazing fungus! I really want to see one growing for myself!

Evan: It is. Although information is now widely accessible, it still hits different when you see it with your own eyes.

Evan: When are you free? We can go check it out together.

MC: Brilliant!

That's what I've been waiting for you to say!

MC: Are you free next weekend?

Evan: Yes, my weekends are open.

Evan: You… Are you this happy just to go to the forest for a walk?

MC: Hahaha, yeah! Super happy!

Evan: I'll come fetch you in my car next Saturday at 10 AM. Will that be alright?

MC: Sure! We're all set then!

Evan: Then, have you ever hiked or camped out before?

MC: No… but don't worry!

MC: I’ve watched lots of videos about camping on the internet! I’ll prepare all the equipment we’ll need this time!

Evan: Alright. I'll be leaving it all to you then.

❖☆———————————★❖

Soon, the appointed day arrived.

When I came downstairs lugging along a rucksack that towered about half a person tall, Evan, who was waiting by his car, looked slightly taken aback.

Evan: You…

I found myself blanking out as I stared at Evan, standing not too far away,

This was my first time seeing Evan dressed in such a casual manner.  The soft and form-fitting material of his clothes made his shoulders appear wider and him, much more reliable. It was reassuring, to say so in the least.

MC: Haha, did I bring one too many things? Actually, I think so too.

MC: In case we don't find a bamboo pith today, we can still camp overnight in the forest with this.

MC: Don't you think?

He smiled as he approached, taking the heavy bag off my shoulders.

Evan: Sounds good.

Evan: You must have fun and enjoy your first camping trip, if anything.

The tenderness in his countenance was the same as always. Where was that coldness to him that a certain someone had mentioned?

I secretly felt a wave of relief wash over me.

MC: Let's head out then!

❖☆———————————★❖

After driving on the suburban roads for nearly an hour, we finally reached an area near the forest on the outskirts of the City.

Evan gently took my bag out of the trunk, slinging it over his shoulder.

MC: That's pretty heavy. How about you let me carry it myself?

Evan: Since we're going to be travelling together anyway, how about we both give it our best?

MC: Alright then. Thanks!

❖☆———————————★❖

Stepping into the forest, lush green foliage surrounded us all around.

The ubiquitous noise and lights were all isolated from here, creating a secluded and serene atmosphere.

The air was warm, humid, and carried the sweet refreshing scent of vegetation. Relaxation was literally oozing out of my pores.

I turned around to look back at Evan. He was standing ramrod straight as usual with a blank expression on his face.

MC: Evan, we're here to relax!

Evan: Thank you. I am very relaxed.

MC: You can afford to be more relaxed. Here, follow me. Open your arms like this, take a deep breath, and go "Ahh…"

He smiled helplessly at me. Just when I thought he was going to refuse, he mimicked my stance, opening his arms wide.

Evan: Ahh…

MC: Hahaha. Yup, just like that.

I took out a map and a compass from the bag.

MC: I will be the leader for today! I’ve already marked all the routes we can take. Let’s see… let’s go this way first!

Evan: Alright. As you say, leader.

We proceeded through the forest according to the directions shown on the map.

We chatted about the animals and plants that we saw as we walked. Or more accurately, Evan was the one introducing them all to me.

Evan: Sorry. It must be boring hearing me talk about all these.

MC: Nope. I’m actually even more interested after hearing you talk about them.

MC: Also, your expression changes into something a little different from what I’m used to whenever you talk about something you like.

Evan: Something that I like? I’m not really sure if it constitutes as me liking it, but I think I’ll like it if you do.

He smiled in a manner as if he didn’t mind it at all, stopping as he took out some tissues and a bottle of water from his bag.

Evan: Here. Wipe your sweat and hydrate yourself.

MC: Thanks.

The soft bubbling of running water entered our ears as we stopped to rest.

MC: Looks like there's a small rover up ahead, just like how it's drawn in the map!

Evan: Looks like the leader's leading well.

❖☆———————————★❖

Following the sound of running water, we soon found the river.

The clear stream rushed across the pebbles, the crystalline liquid glittering under the golden light of the sun. The wind that blew past the waters was very cool and very refreshing. It felt great on my slightly worn-out body.

MC: The cool breeze here by the river’s really nice! And the sound of dripping water’s also very calming.

Evan: Looks like there’s a flat rock over there where we can sit.

Evan: Do you want to rest for a bit?

I want to…

After pondering for a while, I finally decided to…

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

✥ Choose your Ending:

END 1 | Choice: Do Nothing [都不做]

END 2 +3 + 4 | Choice: Call Out [呼唤] ⊹Speak⊹

END 4 + 6 | Choice: Approach [亲近] ⊹Touch⊹

END 7 + 8 | Choice: Heart-throb [心动] ☆Light & Night★

❖☆————— ⊹ For Night, For Revolution⊹ —————★❖

[penrose-quinn]

Musubi [Preview] | Suguru Geto/F!Reader

posted: 04.02.21 | full: [Ao3]

word count: 2.2K 

content tags: pre-hidden inventory arc. can be read as an excerpt.

tw: slight mentions of blood.

a/n: i haven’t written a fight scene in such a long time so apologies for the rusty writing. as for the full one-shot itself, i can’t give a date yet but i hope ya’ll can settle for this. enjoy the laughs for now! *cries in the corner*  

First impressions were always drawn by an encounter, and tied tautly between bravado and cutthroat competition in the annual Kyoto Goodwill Event, the curious color of the string tugged out of Geto running into you was one of interest.

Strategically speaking, it made sense in any fight.

However, a downside to this was that they were inevitably a precursor for nasty introductions when names were traded like bruises and conversations for combat tactics. 

Openings made for a good invitation for a counter, but Geto was quick to parry them with a looming many-limbed pillar of a curse that walled between the both of you with a screech; jolting back the memory and taste of sickness. A spirit of obsession.

Deformed hands, riddled with watchful eyes, reached for you, fixating in your every movement to resist them. You were fast, he’d give you that, but you were paired against a curse that was built from vile adamance. In short, a pain in the ass. Capturing it was, undoubtedly, and now, offered leverage to him when it made things a little simpler and interesting to watch from afar.  

Attention to stances and a razor-sharp interest in the opponent; they were all inevitable, after all.

The moment your strings began to unravel from the pads of your fingers.

They were something to look out for when seemingly anything with cursed energy were bound to be entangled by the subtle manipulation of your hands, and in a span of a minute, the curse was left dangling and viciously writhing in suspension, held fast on the tough bark of oak trees like a fly to an intricate web.

“A Grade Two.” You gawked at it, giving in to a low whistle. “Cool.”

“Can’t believe you ate it up, though,” you said, hinting on that you already knew about his cursed technique. “Did you have to hack it up to pieces?”

Then you made a hand sign – two fingers pressed together – and with a smooth motion, your wrist rotating in an arc, the strings tied to the curse tightened, almost twisting its body for good measure. Or to flaunt. The two never seemed to be far from each other from what Geto observed from you. Typical senior behavior.

“It doesn’t work like that,” Geto said anyway, but unwilling to elaborate further.

From your distance, you peered back at him. “Not the chatty type like Six Eyes, eh?”

But he had a feeling you were.

“I’m afraid not.”

“You’re not gonna show your cards then?” you asked, perhaps alluding to a binding vow.

Geto was uncertain with what you’re trying to get out of this. Cautious as he was, he knew better than to play along, though something about your blatant drawl made him realize how he’d been curious enough to take the risk, mirroring that lazy confidence that curled up your peach-stained lips.

“Not going to show yours, senpai?”

There was a flicker of challenge in your eyes that appeared to make them brighter, like a glint of a knife. However, for whatever reason, you downplay it with a halfhearted shrug. “I’ll be honest,” and in a low amused voice, humoring him, “kouhai.”

The corners of his mouth bent into a slight smirk.

“I’m not really in the mood to help out anyone. Hell, I don’t even care if your school wins,” you admitted, pausing for a moment to listen in to the devastation of some uncharted area of the school grounds. Satoru. “See? We’re on the receiving end anyway.”

“Fair point,” Geto said with a nod. Though he kept the sentiment to himself, he would argue that you should have at least made an effort to appear concerned for your team.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m going to back out from this fight either. That’d be no fun. So how about it?” you offered. “Want to try something?”

Geto did contemplate on it—you. What your whole angle was about, why you went about it in such a roundabout way. Perhaps, the Kansai dialect had a hand in it when your manner of talking turned your inflections more offhanded and overfamiliar. Though he couldn’t deny that he caught on that you sounded more cryptic in comparison to his friend’s open, rather crude bluntness.

Something about your exchanges were like that, full of traps and layers, and as tired and eye-rolling as they were on another person, Geto wasn’t annoyed of you. Rather, he was keen in pursuing answers himself. What kind, he wasn’t sure yet. You had a way of making things interesting, and drawn by the pang of something like inquisitiveness and hunger, he arrived to a decision. “What do you have in mind?”

“Great! That settles it then,” you grinned, clapping your hands together. Another hand sign. “I’m setting your curse free.”

Once the strings began unwinding from the many-limbed curse, Geto felt a tremor from his gut; body apprehensive and prepared to strike.  

Then it all came crashing down with a wink and a red and gold knot forming between your fingers, untwisting it with one decisive pull.

“Unbind.”

It was a sharp breathless feeling.

A sudden relief, followed by a sense of loss. A kind of detachment, brief but deeply harrowing like losing a limb to a cleave, losing the weight of it all at once, where the curse tethered to him had been released, his control slipping, senses disoriented. Severed. It wasn’t bound to his will anymore.  

Resentful in its newfound freedom, the many-limbed curse lunged at him to attack, hands spread out and reaching, eyes crimson and pulsing wide when it set its sights on him.

Snapping out of his stupor, Geto was quick to react with a bolt. Shadow and silhouette bloomed under the ground by a summon, and what stretched forth was his massive hookworm curse, mouth gaping open to devour the Grade Two, and now, snapping shut for the kill before disappearing entirely from his bidding.

Geto would have rather reserved the curse for later, but he won’t gamble losing another one to your technique.

“Personally, I think we’re a bad match,” you mused aloud.

Then your strings whipped at him in a lightning second. Evading them, Geto leapt back and landed aptly on his feet.  

“Especially when I can bind and unbind things with my inherited technique. Seals, shikigami, curses … hm, I suppose yours is an interesting case,” you stared at him thoughtfully before shrugging. “But it’s a kind of attachment either way.”

“Now you’re showing your cards,” Geto hissed out a breath, running through a new game plan.

“Sure, why not.” Your mouth broke into an easy grin. “Keeps the ball rolling, you know?”

There was a cool refinedness in your stance, feet anchored to the ground while your hands were doing all the fighting: flexed out, full of precise flourishes albeit strained, with strings unspooling from your deft fingers. The distance worked to your advantage, though closing it between the both of you was jumping headfirst into a trap in itself.

Geto surmised. But—

“I’d rather end this sooner.”

Mind set and carried by a surge of adrenaline, Geto sprinted towards you, dodging each assault for a closer range, until your strings finally coiled around his wrist, and in reaction, he tugged at it in a vice-grip with a strong pull; drawing out a look of shock from you, and then an eager anticipation. Your body shifted into a steady position, ready and waiting, arms posed for a counterattack.

Geto kept on his pace, charging at you with a wave of his free hand; darkness unfurling and taking shape of a half-formed spirit. Eyes wary of another summoned curse, you took the bait when you made another motion with your other hand, and he took it as a sign of withdrawing the curse back and kicking dust on your face, temporarily blinding you. The strings loosened on him. You recoiled.

When your guard was lowered, Geto seized the chance to swing his foot up at you; a swift kick to your forearm, minutely braced into a block to offset the full brunt of it, but it was powerful enough to send you skidding back your heels.

“Cheat,” you spat, cracking one vigilant eye on him.

Stubborn and quick to recover, you pulled at your strings to reel him in for a mean right hook, knuckles meeting his face. He was able to buffer the blow with his cursed energy, though the hit still landed, hard and fast.

“We’re even.” Geto winced from the bruise on his jaw. Your fist was imbued with cursed energy too, and now, was hurtling back at him with a ferocious amount of force. He side-stepped, dodging the hit that smashed against the tough bark of a tree, splintering it from the impact, and as you were about yank your arm back, he finally found his opening.  

All it took was a faulty step; a split-second of being swept by the heel, knocking you off your momentum as you fell back to the tree, ensuring his victory through a newly summoned amorphous curse restraining your hands and feet.

Geto lunged forward. His fist hurtled down at you, mere inches from your face, until he felt something taut restrain his wrist and his wide eyes followed the cord curled around your two fingers, protruding out of the oozing wound of the curse grappling your hands.

Leaning back, you let out a sigh of relief.

“Okay, kouhai! I forfeit.”

Geto stopped to think for a moment, and testing the string latched onto him with a careful tug, he cocked his head at you to ask. Just in case. “You sure?”

“Yes.” You rolled your eyes at him, blowing a strand of hair from your cheek. A faint waft of mint. “Unlike you, I can’t get my face bruised.”

It was only a fraction, but the insouciance of your smile cracked a little from the edges. More brittle and thinner, from whatever sentiment you hid between your lips. Regardless, he sensed no insincerity from your words.

It was his turn to sigh.

“All right.”

Once the string disentangled from his wrist, Geto stepped back from you, drawing in a raspy breath, as he held himself upright, still tense and arduous from the heat of the fight. He felt heavy from the sweat, dull ache, and spent adrenaline straining on his shoulders, the backs of his legs, everything. He wouldn’t have to undergo through this ordeal if he could only use his cursed technique against you.

“You’re right,” he admitted, tugging at his collar. “We’re really a bad match.”

“Told you,” you crooned.

A set-up? Geto considered it, recalling how they were separated in the fray with the other team; Gojo getting sidetracked at some point and you luring him here with your strings. “Was that intentional?”

“Everyone was counting on it,” you answered, wrenching out your hands from the curse in a violent splatter. “But honestly? The whole plan doesn’t matter in the end. We’re still worse off. And I’m no one’s backup either.”

Noticing his stunned reaction, you amusedly held out your open bloody palm at him. A gesture of reassurance. “Don’t sweat it. This is still your win.”

While Geto was still wary around you, he eased a little from your words. He nodded.

“If that’s the case, why did you go along with the plan?”

“Didn’t want to pass up something,” you said vaguely, looking back at him before tearing off the other curse clinging on your feet, cringing at the sight of gore on your shoes once it was split open by your fingers. “These things aren’t cute at all.”

“You could’ve been more careful with them,” Geto pointed out.

“Gotta get back at you somehow. They have teeth, you know.”

Which you nonchalantly ripped apart with your bare hands.

Before you could wipe off the blood on your hand to your skirt, Geto still went out of his way to give you his handkerchief for the mess, which you stared at for five agonizing seconds before accepting it with a mutter of thanks.

You began to clean your knuckles, bunching up the fabric on your palm. “Well, this is ruined.”

“Not really planning on getting it back,” said Geto, flipping up his phone. He received a photo of Gojo with some members of the other team, ragged and beaten shitless, followed by a text that went somewhere along the lines of everyone being so weak and a demand as to why he was taking so long.

“Geto-san.”

Geto snuck a glance back at you from his phone.

“You’re pretty strong for a first year.“ You hummed in thought and he listened more intently. "Ah, but that’s expected. Judging from the rumors circling around, I suspected you lot from Tokyo Tech were either a piece of work or something else.”

“Something.” Geto smiled.

“Cheeky.”

“Speak for yourself.”

Geto was going to reply back to Gojo until you chuckled, light and airy, drawing his attention back at you.

“Oh, and another thing,” you said, and for a moment, beneath the long spidery lashes, there was a quiet profoundness to your eyes that made a glance blur between an appraisal and a clarity one could find from a thin thread of interest, tugged up by a wry tilt of your lips.

“What kind of woman is your type?”

a/n: . . . that last line is so cursed. i wish todou was the one who asked. for context, reader is one of yuki’s students.

↣ side note: i thought satosugu were already both classified as special grades upon their enrolment like yuuta, but i didn’t realize later on that they were only promoted as special grades after the spv mission. i won't be rewriting this and will be keeping it as it is, but apologies for getting those details wrong!

↣ side note: nvm. i caved. [revised: 04/17/21]

[sourbat]

For that writing meme: Melm/Mags "first confession of kink"? (it would be kind of funny if it was something pretty tame, but i'll leave it up to your choice! whatever would be most fun to write)

I hope you don’t mind, but I don’t have them openly confess to the kink (though it’s pretty obvious). 

Rating: M for blood and suggestive imagery 

Melmord woke to another promising day underground, hundreds of feet deep within Mordhaus’ flaming hearth. Clothes ironed and waiting for him, and a file containing the weekly agenda already resting in front of his bedroom door, Melmord could always be certain that his omnipresent savior and master was looking out for him, ensuring that no moment was without some purpose, no matter how menial. As he made his way down the long halls, Melmord opened the file. A quick glance at the list of upcoming meetings and destinations ahead suggested a deepening level of trust, if not tolerance of his meager existence. He’d be leaving his underground schloss this week, though not without supervision. Another peruse through the file gave way to the name of his newly appointed overseer, and Melmord smiled.

Another week under Magnus’ watchful eye. It was news worth celebrating over, though Melmord was careful not to give way to expressions, lest the wrong klokateer notice across the screen. Can’t let the big man upstairs know how relieving it is to be working with someone who didn’t try killing him. To be working with a musician again, no matter how “retired” he may be. Someone who, despite the rough edges, had the decency to acknowledge the shreds of humanity that still existed within his ragdoll form.

A fellow prisoner. 

He closed the file and his mouth shut before taking a sharp left, going deeper into the dragon’s pit, towards Magnus’ quarters.

Still new to this section of Mordhaus, Melmord was careful to memorize his steps. He knew he was on the right track when he couldn’t locate any obvious camera glued on his movement, either hidden or outright barred for Magnus’ sake (Note to self: ask Magnus what’s the deal?) Eventually, Melmord stumbled upon a bathroom door, slightly ajar, welcoming him to the amusing sight of Magnus cupping his chin, long goatee tucked into the palm of his hand as he brought a razor to his chin.

“That time of the week?” Melmord remarked, coming to a halt once the older man detected his presence. He leaned against the frame, pushing the door the rest of the way, revealing Magnus in just his jeans. Truth be told, it was a rather nice sight, and Magnus not immediately pushing him away and shutting the door asserted that things between them were still on the incline.

“You’re awake,” Magnus stated, dragging the razor down his cheek.

“Careful,” Melmord added, raising a finger at a small patch of untrimmed facial hair just under the man’s jaw. “You missed a spot.” 

Magnus winced at the finger pointed at him. “Thank you,” he murmured, meeting Melmord’s stare with his grim reflection.

“No prob,” Melmord replied, reading the room and concluding it was still too early for shenanigans. Though Melmord could summon up a smile at later hours, a laugh after a few drinks, a few wandering fingers after a huff of something good, getting anything from Magnus pre-breakfast was like squeezing blood from a beet. Or rock… how did that saying go again?

Melmord tried not to let the silence that followed get to him, but after a solid minute of watching a blade cut through thick hairs, gave in and ignored the obvious signs and asked, “So, you get this week’s memo?” 

“Yes, but I’ve not read,” Magnus answered plainly, eyes still on uneven trim.

“We’re working together again.” 

“Yes, just as I requested.”

“And it actually happened.” Melmord excitedly fiddled with his watch. “Not sure how you did it, man. I’ve been working under Offdensen for well over a year and barely got promoted out of custodial duty. You’re here for a few months, and suddenly we’re–ah, something wrong?”

The razor was pressed over the stubble, just above Magnus’ lengthy beard, but had ceased all progress. His reflection harbored the late stages of tolerance, now shifting to annoyance.   

“I’d prefer no distractions,” Magnus said, voice low and frigid, as though it took some effort on Magnus’ part to keep from yelling at him. “That is, not at this hour.”

The last second add on barely eased the blow to Melmord’s esteem. Alright, the guy wasn’t a morning person.

“I mean,” Melmord began, admittedly caught off-guard by the subtle accusation. His natural inclination was to make a joke of it, berate himself if it meant a speedy getaway. “Is that your way of saying you can’t handle my dashing good looks, or­–”

Magnus rolled his eyes. “What I’m saying is you–ow!”

Blood oozed from the fine, diagonal cut now adorning Magnus’ face. A small, inflamed cut dripping with vibrant red blood, catching Melmord’s attention quicker than the hiss emitting from Magnus’ clenched teeth.

“Shit,” Melmord said, eyes drawn to a fat droplet already seeping into the beginning of Magnus’ beard. “Here, let me…” 

“No, I’m good.”

“You’re bleeding.”

The action was without thought. Right as Magnus tossed his razor into the sink, Melmord stepped forward, thumb pressed over the cut to stop any further bleeding. Magnus made a slight complaint, another gruff noise to suggest his discomfort, but it vanished under the heated pulse that hummed a constant beat under Melmord’s thumb. Underneath, he felt the warm blood trickle, and as it threatened to pour into Magnus’ peppered roots, reminded Melmord of the single red flash, then darkness that once haunted him. Blood ran further, and as he watched Magnus’ eyes land on him, Melmord saw the blood once more, only this time it lacked the nauseous suggestions, and instead, invited Melmord with its heavy scent.

Another act performed, and Melmord lifted his thumb from Magnus. Not looking away from the man, he brought his thumb to his lips and, unthinking, lapped it up with his tongue. Sweet iron flavored his mouth, leaving behind traces of a man he was still figuring out, and Melmord pursed his lips round it all, sucking and harvesting sweet memories of another life.  

“That was…”

Melmord caught Magnus starting at him with that look. The “holy shit, dude, really” look. The “you’re into that, huh” judgmental stare. Melmord knew it well enough, had made it himself on a rare occasion; however, it was the first time he’d seen Magnus make it, and it was aimed directly at him.

Now, suddenly aware of his surroundings, Melmord brought his hand down to his side, tucking his stained thumb into a fist.

“Bad habit of mine,” Melmord said, stopping Magnus from finishing his thoughts. “Used to, uh, cut myself when I was starting out.” He pointed at the messy scruff lining his face. “That cutting. Not the bad kind. But, uh, I guess I got used to the taste of blood, haha. Didn’t think I’d…well, you know, bro?” 

With the same hand, Melmord combed through his heavy locks, and laughed. Magnus flinched back, left eye wincing as his chin drew upwards, releasing a new line of blood that only served to make Melmord more aware of the discomforting situation.  

“Well, I won’t bother you anymore,” he said, eyes caught between Magnus’ deepening frown, at the blood now decorating his tangled beard. Still, as nice Magnus looked in red, Melmord wasn’t going to risk going any further, and stepped out of the bathroom. “See you at the breakfast table,” he said, back facing the older man. “Or, later. Whenever, really. I ain’t in any hurry.”

It was hardly a save, but by this point, Melmord was more invested in vanishing from existence than he was in saving face.

Licking up his supervisor’s blood? And right after Magnus told him he wasn’t in any mood?

Well, this was going to be the start of a rather…interesting week.  

“Ow.” 

Melmord halted, eye flickering at the low voice that pierced the hall. Hesitant, he glanced over his shoulder, looking past greasy locks and finding the bathroom door fully opened, and Magnus standing at the edge, just under the frame. Blood ran down his chin, into his beard, and just like before, Melmord was drawn to how well it complemented Magnus peppered locks and sharp features. But it was the patter of blood dripping from his hand that had Melmord about-facing. The razor, now clenched in Magnus’ hand, dribbled with blood. Melmord watched, awestruck, as Magnus released his grip, letting it fall and hit the floor. He brought his hand up and stared, eyes yielding little information as he turned his palm towards Melmord. 

Melmord swallowed at the sight of blood now decorating Magnus’ hand, along with the knowledge that, of the few rooms that were guaranteed no monitoring, the washrooms were one of them.

From the tip of Magnus’ beard, a single droplet gathered, filled and snapped off, dropping and splattering over the top of Magnus’ foot.  

With his impression already made, Melmord had little trouble dropping to his knees once the bathroom door was closed. 

A very interesting week indeed.

[detectiveupstead]

Stay the Night [Upstead One Shot]

A/N: Hello, friends! This Upstead one shot (a grand total of 7,790 words) is based off of the Grey’s Anatomy episode, The Sound of Silence, in which Meredith gets brutally attacked by a patient. This, however, is my own spin of Hailey getting attacked by an offender and the aftermath. Hope you enjoy it!

He should have followed her.

That’s the only thought that was running through Jay’s mind. It was the only thought capable of running through his mind as he stood outside of the trauma bay, surrounded by his team, surrounded by Platt and fellow officers who had shown up as soon as the news broke. Jay was deaf to any sound, blind to everything else, only hearing the clamor of Will and the other doctors as he watched them treat Hailey. Upon noticing her state and the severity of her injuries, it hadn’t crossed anyone’s minds to shut the glass door and draw the curtain inside. And so Jay stood and watched.

It was only Adam and Kevin’s hands on him that stopped Jay from launching into the bay when he heard a strained, anguished cry emit from Hailey, unsure of what happened given the number of medical personnel surrounding her. His heart threatened to leap out of his chest, grunting against his friends’ grips as he tried to throw himself into the room, wanting to push aside all of the doctors for hurting her when he knew they were only helping. Hailey’s scream was followed by hoarse, heavy breathing, and Jay’s eyes burned with unshed tears as he jerked away from Adam and Kevin’s grip, burying his fingers in his short hair as he watched. Because that’s all he could do. Just watch and wait.

He should have fucking followed her.

*****

“Hey! Stop! Police!”

Why did they always fucking run? It never failed to exasperate Hailey as she chased after Nicholas, adrenaline pumping her legs, muscles working as she sprinted after him. Her boots thudded against the pavement as she went after him, gun in hand and, in the back of her mind, unsure if she was grateful for the lack of civilians on the late evening street. People milling around meant the possibility of no clear shot should she need to take it, but the lack of them meant nothing hindering Nicholas from getting away from her.

He turned the corner at the end of the block and Hailey forced herself to slow down, raising her gun as she checked around the wall before raising her weapon and following through, blue eyes sharp and eyebrows furrowed when she didn’t catch sight of Nicholas. No way he could’ve made it all the way to the other end already, or just disappear into thin air. Her senses on high alert, trying to pick up on any sound that would indicate Nicholas’s whereabouts—his breathing, his footsteps, anything—with her blue eyed gaze flickered everywhere as she carefully moved further down the narrow alley.

Apparently her senses weren’t sharp enough.

Somehow, Nicholas got the drop on her, using it to his advantage as the first thing he did was knock the gun out of her hand, the weapon clattering several feet away from their now struggling figures. Hailey was, by no means, someone who would go down without putting up a fight, face scrunched up in frustrated anger and determination as she tried to get the upper hand on Nicholas. But it was proving to be difficult, something Hailey was coming to a gradual, panicked realization, when she considered Nicholas probably had over a hundred pounds and a whole lot of muscles on her definitely smaller frame. Hand to hand combat with someone significantly bigger than her hadn’t been a wise choice—not that it had been much of a choice to begin with.

His fist was drawn back, and Hailey’s attempt of blocking it was useless as Nicholas’s fist came in contact with Hailey’s jaw, a pained grunt escaping her upon impact as the hit settled deep in her jaw bone. She felt as though her entire head had collided with something hard, eyes automatically squeezing shut as the pain was accompanied by the familiarly metallic taste of blood.

She stumbled back, but Nicholas’s hands were on her shoulders, using his strength to slam her into the brick wall behind her, the sound of her radio clattering to the ground distant to her ears. Hailey’s blonde hair flew at the harsh, jerky movement, her jacket doing nothing to prevent the scrape of the bricks against her back, her head thudding against the wall as her hands pressed against Nicholas’s chest. She dug her nails into him, hoping to bring some semblance of pain to get him to relent, eyes just barely opening to see him snarling at her.

Hailey exhaled sharply through her nose, finding enough strength to bring her right knee up as fast and as harshly as she could, slamming it deep into Nicholas’s stomach with a heated growl of her own. And although he keeled over with a groan, Hailey’s knee was no match for Nicholas’s stamina, because he recovered far quicker than she had anticipated, doing so by burying his fist in the same spot of her jaw as he had done so previously, stars exploding behind Hailey’s squeezed shut eyes. And then the air was knocked right out of her lungs as his heavy boot crushed into her chest, the sheer power of the kick once against knocking her into the brick wall. Only this time the rough action sent her flying back at an awkward angle, right side catching the brunt of the hit, and as Hailey fell to the ground, she had a vague feeling her right arm was broken. The numbing pain in her jaw told her it was probably broken, too.

This wasn’t good. This was not fucking good.

Nicholas wasn’t quite finished with her yet. “Think you could’ve taken me, bitch?” he spat, his large figure looming over her. There was a mild ringing in her ears. Why did his voice sound so far away? Hailey pressed the heels of her palms against the ground, the gravel digging into her skin as she tried to push herself up on shaky arms. But Nicholas grabbed a handful of her blonde hair at the top of her head, and Hailey cried out in pain as he yanked it to slam her head against the wall, and suddenly that ringing grew louder until it was all she could hear, her eyes squeezed shut, refusing to let the tears of frustration and pain fall. Her body didn’t feel like her own. It felt broken.

It was getting increasingly difficult to breathe, each small inhale and exhale feeling as though shards of glass were being punctured into her lungs. The taste of blood tainted her mouth, leaking down the corners of her mouth in semi thick streams, and her head spun. It hurt and it spun, a kind of pain and dizziness she hadn’t ever experienced.

Another punch to the jaw, though this time Nicholas kindly did so on the other side, his grip no longer on her so when the hit was delivered, she was sent to the floor. Her eyes squeezed shut as she fell, a breathless grunt escaping her, breath hitching when she felt shards of glass that had already been on the floor cut into the skin of her cheek and temple, blood oozing instantly from the new cuts.

“Hailey!”

Jay? She couldn’t be sure if it was him. She couldn’t hear, that much she was coming to realize. The several blows to her head made for a severe concussion, and the son of a bitch fucked up her ears. He fucked up her face and her arm and her chest. She was by no means a doctor, but in her moments of ragged breathing as she slowly came to acknowledge every sharp pain that stung her body, Hailey knew she had some broken ribs.

She heard something familiar then. Pop, pop, pop. Gun shots?

Her eyes could barely stay open, feeling her heart pound erratically in her chest. She knew that feeling an ache every time her heart beat wasn’t a good sign. Through hooded eyes, she saw Nicholas’s figure drop, body landing sideways with his eyes right in line with her own, and Hailey exhaled sharply, painfully. He was dead.

She groaned, eyes squeezing shut, the tears she’d fought to keep back finally falling. It wasn’t her fault. She no longer had the strength to keep them in.

Gentle yet frantic hands were on her, a familiar, far away voice calling her name, and Hailey decided she didn’t want the last thing she saw before she passed out to be the face of the man who did this to her. So she opened her eyes, slowly, reluctantly, blinking in hopes of clearing up her vision. No such luck.

The person above her was calling for help. She could barely hear, only picking out every other word. “5021 George. . . Officer down. . . Roll an ambo. . . Now!” And then hands were grasping her shoulders, her upper half laying on someone’s lap, feeling warm hands lightly touch her cheek. A familiar scent lightly tickled her numb nose—aftershave? She couldn’t tell, not over the taste and smell of blood. “Hailey, you’re gonna be okay. Stay with me, alright?” Jay. It was Jay. She knew it was him. Her head wasn’t right. Neither were her ears or vision. But she opened her eyes just enough to look up at him, to see a blurred familiar face and blurred worried green eyes. “Come on, Hailey. Stay awake. Look at me.”

Jay had her. She was safe. She could close her eyes now. At least she saw him.

*****

His hands were shaking at his sides as he watched his ragged looking brother exit Hailey’s room. They’d wheeled her off to get X-rays before setting her up in a room, and Jay hadn’t sat down for a second as they anxiously waited for an update. Will noted Jay’s red rimmed eyes, saw the anxiety and desperation etched into his features, looking more worse for wear than the other worried, terrified cops loitering around.

“How is she?” Voight asked. Even he didn’t bother hiding his concern for his detective.

Will let out a breath, looking over all of the quiet officers before his eyes finally met his younger brother’s. His throat was tight, never liking the part of the job where he had to recount a loved one’s injuries and sufferings to their family members. It was a million times worse having to tell it to his own brother. “She’s stable,” was how he chose to start off, knowing it was the most important thing. He was speaking to them all, but his gaze was only on Jay. “But she suffered massive head trauma. She’s got a severe concussion, and the blows to her head have caused temporary hearing loss.”

“Oh, my God,” Kim murmured, a sharp breath escaping her as the gravity of the situation befell Intelligence.

Jay remained silent. Numb.

“She—” Adam paused, throat working. “We heard her scream earlier, when you were working on her. What was that? Is—Is she okay?”

Will pursed his lips, breaking their gaze momentarily. “Her jaw was fractured at an awkward angle, which would make it difficult to heal properly. So Dr. Marcel had to—he had to completely break her jaw and wire it shut so it can heal. She can’t speak.” Will exhaled sharply. He always tried to remain detached when it came to situations like these, delivering the terrible news to friends and families of patients. But it was damn near impossible when he was delivering this kind of news to his friends and family. “Her left arm’s broken, and a broken rib punctured her lung, so we had to put in a chest tube. She’s—She’s got a long road ahead of her, most of which is going to be spent here. But she’ll heal.” He shrugged, almost defeated. “Physically, anyway.”

It was a wonder Jay heard anything his brother had been saying at all; his heart was thundering in his chest, blood rushing in his ears and were his fingers shaking? Hailey was hurt. Of course he knew that. He was the one who found her. He was the one who let her go after Nicholas while he took care of the partner. They both had gone without backup, something he had promised himself he would never do or let a partner of his do, and it nearly cost him Hailey.

The image of her laying in the alley, barely breathing and beaten to a horrific pulp. It had reminded Jay of the time when he’d seen her file after her first sting with Booth, bruises discoloring her face. Only this time, the nauseating twist of his stomach was overwhelming because he could have prevented this. He should have followed her, provided ample back up,  and maybe she would be okay then. It was his fault.

“. . . Jay? Hey, Jay.” Will’s voice drew him back out of his muddled, guilt ridden thoughts, blinking tear heavy eyes as he looked at his older brother. All eyes were on him, and Jay would’ve felt them if he wasn’t so damn numb. Will’s concerned eyes were stuck on him, hand resting on Jay’s shoulder as he repeated, “She’s not awake yet but you can go see her.”

It took a moment for Will’s words to register in Jay’s mind, and when they did, he silently moved without a word. He walked the few steps towards her room, well aware of Voight and the rest of Intelligence following after him. Jay’s feet moved of their own accord, not quite comprehending where he was until he stood at the end of Hailey’s bed.

It was gravely silent in the room, the only sound coming from the shrill and continuous beep of the heart monitor, a loud reminder that she was still alive. Still breathing. From his peripherals, Jay noticed his team members entering around him, flanking either side of Hailey’s bed as he remained at the foot of it. Small tubes for the nasal cannula were connected to Hailey, providing her with supplemental oxygen as she lay unconscious.

Jay’s lips parted, a long, slow breath escaping him as he took in the sight of her. Reddish-purple bruises discolored her face, cuts from glass along her cheek, and his chest tightened at the swelling of her jaw. Needles and tubes were connected into her left arm, because her right was in a cast, broken and in need of healing. Her head was wrapped as well, a spot of blood vaguely visible under the white cloth bandaid by her temple. And despite the slow, calm, and steady beeping of Hailey’s heart monitor, Jay could feel his own heart racing in his chest, a guilt and panic mixing together into an overwhelming concoction of anger, desperation, and terror.

He should’ve followed her. He should’ve been her backup.

His fault, his fault, his fault.

The sight of her laying in the bed, unconscious and bruised, suddenly felt like too much. Jay, who had witnessed a lifetime’s worth of horror, couldn’t stand there looking at his partner, at this woman who had such a tight hold on him, because the sight was too much for him to handle. He physically couldn’t do it.

His teeth clenched together, he turned, feet carrying him out of the room, ignoring Vanessa’s soft call of his name as he moved further away and down the hall. Jay’s feet carried him, hands buried in his hair, head bowed as he squeezed his eyes shut. A ball of lead settled deeply in his stomach, throat closing up with a lump that made it difficult to breathe. Get it together, Halstead, he kept repeating to himself, forehead creased with the way his eyebrows were so harshly drawn together. He knew the tell tale signs of an episode, of a panic attack. Recognized the racing of his heart and the flush of his body. Hailey wouldn’t want him losing it like this.

Hailey. She was in this state because of him, wasn’t she?

“Damn it!” His voice echoed in the hall, and Jay didn’t think twice about slamming a fist against the nearest wall. Not head on, saving his knuckles from any damage, just the side of his fist. Still, the pain reverberated through his hand, but he didn’t care.

“Hey, Jay—Look at me!”

It was Voight, with his hands on Jay’s shoulders and heavy voice anchoring him back to reality as he turned Jay around to face him. Jay opened his eyes, eyebrows still draw together, jaw tight as he stared at his sergeant. His head was bowed, chin brought down, looking Voight right in the eyes as the older man stated, “This is not on you, you hear me?”

Jay scoffed, the sound derisive and deprecating, ready to push away from Voight. But Voight was firm, grip on Jay unrelenting, gaze sharp on his detective who stared back with glass sheen eyes. “You both made a tactical decision, and those don’t always end right. This is one of those times. It is not on you.”

“She’s my partner,” Jay spoke, his voice tight and edgy and controlled, ironic given that he felt completely out of his element here. Coming apart as every second passed by. His eyes once again felt heavy as tears drowned them, his emotions getting the better of him. Jay knew he had the habit of losing it in front of others, but it had never been with tears. Not until Hailey was laying in a hospital bed beaten within an inch of her life. “If I don’t have her back, who does?”

There was a silence between the two of them, filled by the distinct sounds of medical personnel doing their jobs and machines beeping in the distant, and Jay knew Voight was realizing there wasn’t much he could say to lift the guilt that suffocated him. “You were both just doing your jobs,” he repeated the idea, looking at him sternly, but the concern was still visible. Concern for Hailey’s recovery, concern for Jay’s conscious. He squeezed his shoulder. “Do you want to head home or—”

“No, no,” Jay instantly said, voice thick as he lifted his chin, gaze flickering up to the ceiling as his eyes remained glistening. He swallowed. “I’m staying.”

He walked past Voight, running is hand down his face as he made his way back to Hailey’s room. His arm dropped to the side as he stood in the doorway, feeling his friends’ eyes on him yet his own remained on the unconscious woman.

Everyone had left after a while, despite wanting to stay. Everyone except Jay, who brought the chair in the corner up to Hailey’s bedside, settling down on it with his elbow on the arm rest and knuckles pressed against his mouth. He couldn’t tear his gaze away, taking in every injury he could see. Every injury Nicholas was able to conflict before Jay got to them, before Jay manage to fire his weapon and fatally shoot the man who had been trying to deliver another kick to Hailey’s stomach.

The offender was dead, but Jay’s guilt was lively as ever.

*****

The only time Jay left Hailey’s room was to change into a new pair of clothes that Will had brought, going into a bathroom in the hallway. His brother had brought in breakfast as well in the morning, but Jay didn’t have the stomach to eat. So the breakfast burrito sat cold in Hailey’s room as Jay left the bathroom, now in a fresh pair of jeans and T-shirt. He hadn’t seen the point in changing, really, but Jay figured Will was trying to get him to move after spending the entire night sleeping on the somewhat comfortable chair.

His body felt heavy, weighed down my worry and guilt and mere exhaustion, given that he barely slept. Not because of the chair—he just didn’t want to take his eyes off Hailey. Logically, reasonably, Jay knew if anything were to happen, the doctors and nurses would be in there in a second to help. But he couldn’t sleep. Didn’t let himself.

Despite his exhaustion, Jay made his way back to Hailey’s room quickly, rounding the corner, only to stop when he was right in front of the room. His heart stilled for a moment, mimicking the way his muscles froze when his widened eyes took in the sight before him.

Blue. Gorgeous blue. The prettiest fucking blue he’d ever seen.

His voice was thick, throat closed up as he hoarsely sounded, “Hailey.”

He hadn’t even noticed his brother in the room. Jay’s eyes were glued to Hailey, who was staring at him with an expression he couldn’t quite get a read on—because it said nothing. She sat there, a blank look on her face, watching as he further entered the room and stood at her side. “Hailey, are you—”

She was frowning up at him, silent. Her jaw was still swollen, bruised from the hits it had taken, and she remained quiet. But it was Will who spoke up. “Jay.” He looked towards his older brother, who had a mildly concerned expression etched onto his face. Licking his lips, Will reminded, “She can’t hear, remember? At least not for now.”

Right. Shit, right. Fuck.

Jay blinked quickly a couple of times before looking back down at Hailey, who had been looking between the two Halsteads as she tried to figure out what was being said right over her head. Jay’s throat worked, noticing the frustration evident in her bruised features, before looking up at Will. With her uninjured left hand, Hailey made a gesture, like she was writing, and Will caught on.

“Wanna write something? Hold on,” he said, and Jay watched as he turned his back to them to rummage through a drawer in the counter by the wall. He then turned back to them, offering Hailey a small whiteboard and uncapped the marker before handing that to her, too.

Jay chewed on his lower lip, watching as Hailey wrote something down. When will my hearing come back? She erased the words after Will read them, handing him the marker as he wrote down, Can’t say for sure. Could be a day to a week. Upon reading the response, Hailey’s eyebrows furrowed together, harshly pushing away the whiteboard from her lap towards her feet, a strained groan escaping her, muffled with her jaw being wired shut.

Jay’s stomach twisted at her obvious frustration, biting the inside of his cheek as he and Will exchanged a look. Letting out a breath, Will grabbed the board and erased the words, writing some more. How’s your pain level? I can give you something if it’s too much.

Hailey read the words before giving a shake of her head, exhaling sharply through her nose as she turned her gaze up to the ceiling, apparently done with the silent conversation. Will looked at Jay, murmuring, “I’ll check on her later,” before exiting the room.

Settling down in the chair he had failed to sleep in, Jay let out a slow breath, hands tightly gripping the arms of the chair as his green eyes remained on his partner. Maybe his gaze was burning a hole in Hailey’s face because she was suddenly looking towards him, blue meeting green, and Jay remained silent as she watched him.

He sniffed, hand reaching up to run down his face once more as he broke their gaze, suddenly unable to look at her. He looked at her and all of her injuries were a reminder of how this happened. How he had been too late.

Jay heard a sharp tap, prompting him to look up to see Hailey tapping the marker against the bed to get his attention. His lips parted when he read the words she was showing him on the whiteboard.

This wasn’t your fault.

Throat closing up, Jay felt something inside of him crack; something that had began to crack the second he had entered the alley. His teeth pressed together, jaw tight to keep his expression from crumbling in front of her. But the fear had yet to loosen its grip on him—that unadulterated fear that he lost her was still heavy on his mind and heart, reminding him of how close of a call this was. He’d lost people; in Afghanistan, in Chicago, and it never got easier. He learned to healthily deal with his emotions, learned to be okay. But Jay had a feeling that if Hailey had succumbed to her injuries, if she wasn’t staring at him right now, if her bright blue eyes were instead dull and lifeless. . . He had a feeling he wouldn’t come back from that.

*****

When she woke up, her head wasn’t pounding as thunderously as it had been before. Still, though, Hailey’s eyes felt heavy as kept her head against the pillow, and she managed to shift her gaze to the right to catch sight of her partner. Jay slept on his side, a pillow under his head and a blanket half covering him, and Hailey exhaled quietly through her nose at the thought of him being uncomfortable. He’d slept on that couch for—how long had it been? She couldn’t remember how many days she’d already spent—but she wished he would go home to his bed.

She also knew that asking him would be pointless. Hailey hadn’t left the waiting room when he had been shot—not until she knew for sure that he was alive and well and recovering. But she was fine, wasn’t she? Sure, she couldn’t hear, her jaw was wired shut and she had some broken bones, but she was alive. Jay should go home and sleep on a comfortable bed rather than that couch.

But she would be lying if she said she didn’t appreciate, didn’t love the fact that he insisted on staying with her, even with his hatred of hospitals.

There was a subtle ringing in her ears, a distant muffle of a sound she couldn’t comprehend, and Hailey squeezed her eyes shut at the reminder of her temporary deafness. And her temporary muteness. Her eyes opened and she looked around her room, towards the windows on the left that allowed her to see the rest of the hospital, the nurses’ station a few feet away as the world around her continued to move. She just couldn’t hear it.

The soreness in her jaw was ever present even as she tried to clench it, wincing as the pain throbbed through the bone, and Hailey hated the water that began burning her eyes. She felt trapped in her own body, unable to hear or speak, just watch everything around her move while she was stuck in this bed with a broken arm and even more fucked up body. She hated that she was in this position, hated Nicholas for putting her here, hated herself for not being able to defend herself properly even though, logically, Hailey knew she couldn’t fault herself for that.

Hailey Upton was never one to pity herself, never one to think of herself as a victim. But in this moment, days after being admitted to the hospital and needing help to go to the bathroom or take a sip of water or being unable to properly eat anything, her emotions were catching up to her and the tears were spilling from her eyes before she could help it.

She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the tears wet her cheek as she leaned her head back, the sobs escaping her. She tried to remain quiet—but it was difficult knowing how loud or quiet she was when her hearing was damaged. The muffled sounds from before remained as such, distant in her ears, but Hailey could feel the quivering of her lips and the heaviness of her heart as she cried out of anger, frustration, and sadness.

Hailey wasn’t sure how long she stayed like that, with closed eyes leaking tears, but eventually she felt the mattress of her hospital bed shift, felt a body lay down right next to hers, and the familiar scent of her partner invaded her nose as she felt Jay’s left arm settle on the pillow above her head as his chest pressed against her right arm. She couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes, the sobs escaping her as she, for once, allowed herself to drown in her misery, her self pity, her anger.

But Jay was ever present. He remained lying next to her, propped up by her pillows, his left hand brushing away her blonde hair from her forehead while his other hand found her right one. His hand felt warm holding hers, callused fingers wrapping around hers perfectly as he anchored her emotions, pulling her out of the vat she was drowning in.

Everything hurt—physically and emotionally. Sure, she’d been banged up and bruised,  had her fair share of trips to the hospital to get checked out for on-duty injuries. But it never had been this bad. She’d never gotten so beaten up before; God, she thought what Booth had done all those years ago at that damned New Years party had been awful—this felt ten times worse.

The hand that held hers in this moment, though, helped. She squeezed Jay’s hand, trying to steady out her breathing, which was a bit difficult when her mouth was wired shut and nose had become stuffy from the tears she had let out. But as she tried to calm down, catch her breath, the distant ringing in her ears started to fade, and her unsteady breathing started to sound louder and louder rather than feeling as though she was hearing it with cotton stuck in her ears.

Over the beating of her heart, sounds slowly started becoming clearer, gradually emerging from a distant muffle to being clear and present, and as the realization settled in her head, Hailey felt herself being pulled into reality. Jay’s hand still holding hers definitely helped.

The sounds came together slowly. First it was the steady beeping of her heart monitor. Then it was the vague sounds of the hospital bustling beyond her room. And then, finally, it was him.

“. . . love you. I know you can’t hear me, Hailey, I can’t imagine how awful this is. But I’ve got you. I’m here, alright? I love you and I’m here.”

Hailey inhaled sharply as Jay’s quiet, soothing voice filtered in her ears, eyes blinking open to rid of the tears as her blurred vision immediately dropped to his hand holding hers. Her heart once again began pounding as she heard his words, registered them in her muddled brain as a confession she didn’t know he wanted her to hear or not. He’d uttered it thinking she couldn’t. But she had. Her hearing had taken that exact moment to return, and Hailey now knew of a secret of Jay’s heart she wasn’t entirely sure she was meant to.

But it would be a complete lie to say it didn’t lift a weight off her chest she didn’t know she carried.

He loved her. He loved her the way she loved him. And although Hailey Upton didn’t like depending on other people, she held onto his words tightly, afraid of letting them slip.

“I’m gonna be here for you.” He was still talking, oblivious to Hailey’s ability to hear again, his voice quiet by her ear. Hailey knew it made Jay feel like he was doing something, made him feel useful in a situation she knew he otherwise felt helpless in. She was too familiar with that, given that’s how she had felt when he was in surgery. Her gaze still on their joined hands, reveling in the warmth of his touch, she listened to him continue with a small smile in his voice. “I’m gonna be by your side every day while you’re here, even after you’re discharged. You’re gonna be sick of seeing my face by the end of your recovery, but you can boss me around all you want until then.”

That had Hailey letting out a small laugh—as much as she could, anyway, through a wired shut jaw—briefly resting her head against his chest as she gave his hand a squeeze, his words both comforting and amusing. She would never be sick of seeing his face—that much, she was certain of.

Her laugh, despite being muffled because of her jaw, was enough to catch Jay’s attention. She felt him stop before leaning back slightly, and she lifted her gaze to see his bright, widened green eyes peering down at her. This close, Hailey could count every freckle on his face, could see the specks of gold in his green irises, and Hailey tried her best to school herself into a state of tranquility in case the heart monitor decided to betray her.

But Jay was looking at her in surprise, bewilderment, and Hailey raised her eyebrows in silent inquiry until he finally spoke up. “Hails—y-you—can you hear me?”

Hailey nodded, closed lips quirking up ever so slightly as she hummed an affirmative, given that’s all she was capable of doing, and watched as Jay’s lips parted to release the disbelieving scoff that escaped him before he ultimately grinned. “Shit—” Jay cut himself off with a shocked laugh, free hand running down his face while his other squeezed hers. She wanted to smile, the sight of his merely urging her to do so, as Jay shook his head. “I should—I should get a doctor—I’ll get Will, yeah? He’ll give you a quick check up.”

The excitement and relief brightened his eyes, and Hailey knew it was warranted—having her hearing back was a step forward in her recovery, that much she knew—so she nodded with a smile. Even if she didn’t want to let his hand go, or didn’t want to be rid of the warmth of his body as he got off the bed. But she let him go, watched as he stood to his feet with a relieved chuckle and ran his hand through his hair as he gave her one last look before leaving the room.

Despite the circumstances, if she could grin any wider, she would. No surprise it was because of Jay.

*****

“This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” Jay laughed at the satisfied groan Hailey released after swallowing down a mouthful of the gyro he’d gotten for her, his own in his hands he kept forgetting to eat. He was too busy focusing on her. And the sound of her voice he could finally hear after what felt like forever.

“I figured your first proper meal should be your favorite,” Jay told her after taking a sip of his soda. With a smirk, he added, “You’re welcome.”

Hailey rolled her blue eyes, though the smile on her face was evident as she putted the gyro down on the paper plate in her lap to grab a napkin and wipe at her mouth. “I already thanked you—stop fishing.”

Jay merely chuckled before biting into his gyro, but his eyes never left her. She looked better now, much to everyone’s relief. Three days after her hearing had returned, they doctors had taken off the wires from her jaw, though she still hadn’t been allowed to move it too much for a few days after that. But the bruises on her face had started disappearing, yellowing out and nearly blending into her skin, the cuts and her internal injuries were healing well and the thick cast on her left arm was replaced with a brace.

She was getting better and Jay was more than relieved.

“I do need to thank you for something else, though.” Jay raised his eyebrows as Hailey’s blue eyes locked onto his green. Her lips quirked into a smile, showing off those dimples he’d so easily come to adore as she rolled her lip into her mouth. “Thank you for. . . For having my back out there. With Nicholas. You saved my life in the alley, so—you know. Thank you.”

Jay’s lips parted, her words tightening his chest as his eyebrows drew together. He leaned forward, arms resting on his thighs as he gave a shake of his head. “Hailey. . .” He spoke up, breath hitching in his throat as the corner of his lips quirked up. “You don’t ever have to thank me for that. You’re. . .” He paused, feeling his throat lock out of nowhere. Lock from the thought of losing her. Lock from guilt. “You’re my partner and I should’ve gotten there sooner.”

“Jay,” Hailey began with a shake of her own head, eyebrows knitting together. “It wasn’t your fault.”

His jaw clenched, head dropping as his gaze went to the wrapped gyro he was still holding. A frown drew together his eyebrows too, the guilt still tightening his muscles. Since the moment he’d found her in the alleyway, Jay’s thoughts had been running rampant. No words of comfort from his brother, or Voight, or any member of his team calmed him down as he thought of his injured partner and how the extent of her beating could’ve been reduced had he gone after her sooner. Sure, he was occupied with the first offender, but he shouldn’t have let her go after Nicholas without backup. He was her backup. And he didn’t do his job the way he should’ve.

“That’s the first thing you wrote to me when you woke up,” Jay muttered through a dry, short chuckle, her handwriting flashing across his mind.

“I still mean it,” Hailey replied softly. “Besides, I’m doing better and I think I remember you saying something about me bossing you around until I’ve fully recovered.”

At that, despite the weight on his chest, Jay let out a laugh as he lifted his head, catching sight of her wide grin as he shot her look. “That would be the first thing you hear after temporary deafness,” he mused playfully.

Hailey let out a raspy chuckle. “It wasn’t.” He saw the instant moment of regret that flashed across her face as she let those two words slip past her mouth, neck tensing as she pressed her lips together and dropped her gaze to the half eaten gyro in her lap. She was avoiding his gaze, something Jay picked up on instantly, and Jay sat up slightly as his eyebrows furrowed together. What?

“It wasn’t?” he repeated, green eyes watching her carefully. What was she talking about? “Then what was—”

It slammed into him like a truck, harsher than the damn baseball bat he’d taken to the back of his head all those months ago. The blood in his veins froze as his heart jumped up right into the middle of his throat, and he stared at Hailey as she twisted her lips to the side, easily catching sight of the flush that spread across her cheeks. He remembered. Of course he remembered what he’d been murmuring to her, believing that she couldn’t hear him but still feeling the need to voice the words that wrapped around his heart.

He didn’t think she’d heard him. Had only uttered them because she couldn’t hear him. But she had. She knew how he felt. And Jay. . . Was alright with that.

Question was—was she?

“Hailey—”

“Jay—”

They both stopped short and he let out a nervous chuckle, watching as she smiled as well. She gave a shake of her head, gesturing to him with a soft, “Go ahead.”

He let out a breath, putting his plate on the table next to Hailey’s bed before linking his hands together, grip on himself tight as a way of keeping himself together. Jay reminded himself that this was Hailey—his partner, his best friend—and he could tell her anything. But this was different, wasn’t it? Their relationship was already so strong, unbreakable—he didn’t want to risk it. But he also couldn’t just pretend he never said what she had heard.

“I didn’t mean to make things weird between us,” he spoke slowly, carefully. “But I don’t—”

He stopped, feeling a tightness in his throat. Was he making a mistake? He didn’t think so, but the doubt was still present in the back of his mind. “Don’t what?” Hailey prodded quietly, gently. She deserved an answer.

His green eyes locked onto her blue, and Jay saw the hope in her eyes, the softness in her features, and it was enough to make him finish. “I don’t regret it. I meant what I said.”

Jay’s heart was pounding, taking in the way Hailey parted her lips and took in a breath. His gaze never left hers, even as she was about to say something, only to get cut off by a knock on the door that stole their attention, watching as Kim and Kevin entered.

Jay’s gaze flickered back to Hailey, who smiled at their friends, briefly meeting Jay’s gaze. She heard him. That’s all that mattered.

*****

She was finally able to go home. It felt damn good to finally leave her hospital room after taking a shower without feeling like her entire body was aching. She was finally in her own clothes, too, no longer in a hospital gown that ran a draft up her back. There was still a cast on her arm, but for the most part, she was physically healed and ready to sleep on the comfortable mattress of her own bed.

As soon as her discharge papers were signed, she went to pick up her duffel bag, only to be beaten to it as it was scooped right up, and she let out a soft chuckle at the sight of Jay standing there in his usual jeans and dark hoodie. His badge was clipped to his waistband, gun on his side and her bag in his hand. “Hey,” Hailey greeted with a smile. “Off duty already?”

A half smirk tilted at his lips. “Sarge let me off to pick you up. Since Rojas is on an undercover op.”

Hailey’s smile remained, biting the corner of her lip as she eyed him knowingly. “Sounds good,” she said. The two of them then began walking towards the door—Hailey couldn’t be out of there fast enough.

The car ride to her place consisted of the radio playing softly in the background as Jay told Hailey about the case they’d just wrapped up, knowing she didn’t like being out of the loop when it came to cases. It was comfortable, like nothing had changed, despite a conversation they’d had days ago still lingering in the back of their minds—a conversation they hadn’t brought up again since the day they’d had it. But they would; Hailey had a feeling.

When they got to her house, Jay came inside, setting her duffel bag on the coffee table in her living room. The house was silent, but Hailey felt a flood of relief and comfort rush through her as she stood in her own home. She hadn’t been there for so long, the days having blended together while she was in the hospital, and she couldn’t contain the sigh of relief that escaped her.

“You good?” Hailey opened her eyes to see Jay watching her, the amusement apparent in his features and signature half smirk. She didn’t particularly care he just saw her have a moment.

“Just glad to be out of the hospital,” Hailey told him with a smile, running her fingers through her blonde hair.

“Yeah, you and me both,” Jay chuckled softly.

She smiled, taking a step towards him, aware of the pounding in her heart as she looked up at her tall partner. “I appreciate you spending all those nights with me in the hospital, Jay.” Then, with a teasing scoff, she added, “Especially at the expense of your back.” She couldn’t imagine how uncomfortable that couch was.

He rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face remained as he responded, “Anything for you, partner.”

Hailey rolled her lower lip into her mouth, blue eyes locked onto his green as she repeated, “Partner?” She hadn’t meant for it to come out as a question, but it gave her the excuse to tilt her head a bit and find the courage to ask, “Is that all we are?”

Jay’s smile faltered slightly as he heard her question, and for a heart stopping moment, Hailey feared she had misstepped, had drudged up a topic he’d been trying to evade. But Hailey could read Jay well, knew him as well as she knew herself, and she saw the relief that swam in his green eyes as he gave a shake of his head. “Hell no.”

His hands were gentle on her face, carefully cradling her jaw after the rough time it had, but his touch was welcome as he tilted her head up and met her halfway with his lips pressing against hers. Hailey’s eyes instantly fell shut at the pressure of his soft lips against hers, returning the kiss just as earnestly as the stars exploded behind her eyes and her hands gripped his wrists to keep him in place.

The scruff he was sporting scratched at Hailey’s skin deliciously and she leaned into him, leaned into the kiss, feeling dizzy in the best way. She felt weak in the knees as Jay kissed her, as if he’d wanted to kiss her like this for the longest time, and she understood the feeling. She couldn’t remember how long she’d waited for this moment, either.

The kiss ended too soon, but Jay’s nose brushed against Hailey’s and she let out a soft breath. Her skin was warm, the heat from Jay’s body seeping into her bones. The smile, blissed out and sincere, upturned Hailey’s lips. “By the way,” she breathed, her lips brushing against Jay’s as she spoke, “I love you, too.”

Hailey could feel the relief relax his muscles, his thumb brushing across her cheekbone while the fingers of his other hand brushed a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. “Yeah?” he murmured, voice dropping an octave lower. It sent a shiver down her spine.

“Yeah,” Hailey returned, eyes slowly fluttering open. Her heart jumped to see his green eyes already watching her. Smile widening slightly, she asked, “Wanna stay over? My bed’s more comfortable than a hospital couch.”

Jay’s smirk returned—how did he manage to look charming at the same time? “Yeah,” he answered quietly before the smirk widened. “Think I’ve gotten too used to spending my nights with you.”

Hailey grinned, dimples in view. “Not that you’re complaining.”

Jay pressed another kiss to her lips, soft and slow. “Never.”

[babbushka]

omg mrs z!! "saddle up, doll" + flip could be life changing :') however, i understand if you don't want to write it bc i know that you're posting some flip oneshots later :') you're too kind to us :') have a good brunch!

Anonymous said:  Howdy! How about Buck with your cowboy, Flip? ;) Thank you for coming up with such fun ideas!!!   &  I sent in the Buck prompt with cowboy Flip lol. I just saw the prompt “Saddle up, Doll.” My mind is really running with this now lol!

(1.7k, semi-public sex, dirty talk/name calling, its seedy lol)

You’re good at it, pool. Real damn good at it, if Flip’s anything of a judge. You call out the pockets and then you hit them, impressing everyone in the smoky bars you like to visit. Flip’s impressed, impressed with the way you chalk up the pool cue, the way you walk around the table, a hand trailing along the velvety surface.

He’s hard in his jeans, watching you. He knows you do this on purpose, the bending over. Low-cut tops that show your pretty tits all pushed up in your bra, practically begging to be kissed, bitten, sucked. Tight fitting pants that hug your ass, or even better – skirts too short that he can see your panties when you bend over just enough.

You’re wearing one of those skirts now.

And you’re bending over more than enough.

He knows you know what you do to him, because you’re always looking over your shoulder at him with a pretty smile, a devious smile, a knowing smile. You know he knows you know.

He blows smoke through his nose and hazes up the bar, and fuck, he’s hard.

“Five in the corner pocket, three in the left side.” You announce, angling up something of an impossible trick.

Crack!

He can feel it in his balls how fucking sexy you are, how suggestive all this is. You make the shot, and look over at him. Not so impossible, you say with your smirk, and Flip just has to fucking have you.

“Eight ball, corner pocket.” Still looking at Flip, you announce to your opponent. They’re nobodies, some guys who had really given you and Flip a run for your money, but in the end – crack! – lost.

“Good game.” Flip shakes hands with the guys, and he prays they can’t feel how clammy he is, how pent up he is for you in that handshake.

They return the sentiment, and the second that you hang up the pool cues, he’s got an arm around you and is walking you back back back into the dark, into the employee only hallway, past some doors and around a corner.

You’re giggling, hands already prying open the fly of his jeans, already tugging out his cock. It’s some kind of office, something left unlocked. You wonder how many other people get fucked back here, but it doesn’t stop you. You’ve been aching to have your pussy filled for hours now, ever since he came in you at the house before leaving to go out for drinks with some friends who wound up bailing anyway.

“How do you want me?” You ask as he quickly works your shirt over your head, nearly tears at the clasps of your bra.

You sigh happily when your breasts can rest naturally, sigh even happier when Flip’s immediately drawn to them, nuzzles his face into your cleavage as you stroke at his cock, hot and heavy and throbbing in your hand.

“Bounce on my dick, I want to see your tits move.” He grumbles before sucking one of your nipples into his mouth, hard.

Your free hand flies to his hair, holds him against you as you push him down down down to the floor. It’s seedy here, but that’s okay, you’re seedy sometimes. Loud music spills in from the main bar area, but all you can hear is the thumping base that makes your pussy tingle as you straddle his hips.

“You got it cowboy.” You grin, letting him lay flat back against the floor. He’s fully dressed, right down to those sexy cowboy boots of his he’s always strutting around in. The lights pulse red neon around you in the office, and you grind your hips against his cock, feel it through the cotton of your underwear.  

“Mmm, saddle up ketsl,” Flip tucks his arms behind his head, playfully bucks his hips up against your pussy, “You’re in for a ride.”

You gasp out a laugh from the surprise feeling, and immediately go to unbutton your little denim skirt.

“No, leave it on. And your panties.” He instructs as he licks his lips. “I want them soaked and sticky until we get home.”

You nod, bat your lashes at him as you simply tug your panties to one side and waste no time sinking down onto his dick. You’re wet, so wet and stretched, so it’s easy. You like that, you think to yourself, you like being easy for him.

“Oh fuck, Flip – your cock’s so fuckin’ big honey.” You moan as your pussy grips him, clenches around his length when he bottoms out inside you. You rub a hand over your lower stomach, imagining for a minute that you can feel him in there, pushing your insides around, rearranging your guts to fit.

“Still sore from earlier?” He asks as you begin to move on his cock, undulating your hips to the beat of the music.

“Uh huh.” You moan, head tipping backwards, pushing your tits out. You know he likes them, loves them, wants to come all over them all the time. There’s some dried come on them now, if anyone looked close enough.  

“Good.” He grunts, planting those boots of his onto the floor and bucking up hard with his hips, making you yelp a little, making you gasp, making you moan.

Fuck he loves to listen to you moan.

“You’re mean to me.” You whine, biting at your lips as he meets you thrust for thrust, the head of his cock knocking against your cervix and making your knees turn squeeze his sides.

“Tell me about it ketsl,” He wants to kiss you, so he sits up there on the floor, wraps his arms around you and holds you close. Your hands immediately tangle into his hair as you press open mouthed kisses to his jawline, spit-slick and hot. “Let me hear you.”

“Oh! Ah – hh – I -- ” You try, but you can’t, because this angle lets you move faster, and you’re bouncing in earnest, your pussy squelching and throbbing around him, pulsing, blazing on his cock that’s oozing into you.

“Faster honey.” He bites at your cheek, catches your lips with his own and licks into your mouth slowly while your body shakes shakes shakes around him hard, “Moan into my mouth and go faster.”

“Fffffffflip -- yesyesyes.” You pant, gasp, whine into his mouth while you grind and roll and fuck yourself on his cock.

“You’re such a fucking whore aren’t you? Bending over for anyone to see, I should have fucked you over the pool table.” He growls, that possessive flare bubbling up inside of him, fueled only by the way he always seems to get drunk off of you, your touch your taste your smell.

“Touch me?” You ask, and how could he deny you when you’re so sweet to him? Even when you’re a fucking brat, you’re so sweet.

“You would’ve liked that, wouldn’t you? Your cunt’s wet about it, slut. Perfect beautiful slut, all mine. I’d’ve made you drool all over the place, fucked you dumb.” He drops a hand to your pretty clit, has a hard time getting a hold of it because your hips move move move, and you’re sweat covered tits are driving him crazy with need, so badly that his hand shakes.

“Do it – do it, fuck me dumb Phil, please!” You’re close, he knows you are.

“When we get home.” He kisses your neck, worries the tendons there between his teeth, makes your back arch against nothing, trying to wind yourself press yourself climb yourself closer to him.

“Ugh,” You groan, and he rolls his eyes, pulls back enough to pinch your nose.

“You get to come on my cock, don’t be so fuckin’ glum ketsl.” He kisses you, breathes into your lungs until you’re dizzy and gasping for fresh air. He lets go of your nose and you grin.

“I just love fucking you honey,” You pant, moving erratically now, right on the edge, “I love when you get riled up for me, so strong and big and protective. You wouldn’t fuck me in front of anyone, you love this pussy too much, it’s all yours, no one else gets to see it.”

He could make you wait, could tell you not to come, but you’re so good to him, and he loves you so fucking much.

“That’s fucking right – say it again.” He makes up his mind, wants you hoarse, wants you wrecked. “Say it until you come.”

“I’m yours, yours honey.” You’re quick to comply, so eager, as your pussy pulls off of him nearly all the way and drops back down, again and again, really feeling the length of him, the girth of him, again and again, whisper-moaning right in his ear, against his mouth, “Yoursyoursyoursyoursyours – fuck!”

Your whole body shudders, toes curling in your fancy platform heels. Flip’s hands rub at your nipples and make you whine as you moan, as you some around his cock, as you gasp gasp gasp on his dick. You weakly keep saying it, over and over, all yours.

He pulls out of you until just the tip of his cock is right up against your pussy, and then he comes in your underwear. It’s hot and thick and sticky, and as he comes and empties his load, he pushes the head of his cock back into your cunt and comes some more, smearing it between your folds.

It takes you a minute to stop coming, to stop the shakes. Your body’s like jelly on top of him, but you seem to have enough strength to lick up the long trails of sweat that dripped down Flip’s neck.

“They’re soaked, just like you wanted.” You’re raspy when you whisper, feeling the slippery slope between your thighs as he finally pulls away.

“Good, that means you’ll have to sit on my lap while I finish my beers.” Flip tucks himself back into his own clean underwear, buttons up his jeans. He kisses you hot and heavy, tongue against yours, sweet sounds of making out daring him to get hard again.

“If we wait ten minutes, I’ll sit on your cock.” You dare him too, pull him up off the floor as you stand, “It’s dark, no one will be able to tell.”

“I love the way you think ketsl.” Flip reaches into his pocket for a cigarette, and you take the little book of matches from him, strike one with your fingernail and light up the smoke for him.

And you just grin, because well, you know.

[beemusik]

How David Bowie Invented Ziggy Stardust

Jason Heller’s book Strange Stars: David Bowie, Pop Music, and the Decade Sci-Fi Exploded is the story of how science fiction influenced the musicians of the Seventies. Out now in hardcover via Melville House, Strange Stars also examines how space exploration, futurism and emerging technology inspired the sometimes-cosmic, sometimes-mechanistic music the decade produced. In this section, Heller delves into the creation of Bowie’s most-famous alter ego, Ziggy Stardust.

A small crowd of sixty or so music fans stood in the dance hall of the Toby Jug pub in Tolworth, a suburban neighborhood in southwest London, on the night of February 10, 1972. The backs of their hands had been freshly stamped by the doorman. A DJ played records to warm up the crowd for the main act. The hall was nothing fancy, little more than “an ordinary function room.” The two-story brick building that housed it – “a gaunt fortress of a pub on the edge of an underpass” – had played host to numerous rock acts over the past few years, including Led Zeppelin, Jethro Tull, and Fleetwood Mac. Sci-fi music had even graced the otherwise earthy Toby Jug, thanks to recent headliners King Crimson and Hawkwind, and exactly one week earlier, on February 3, the band Stray performed, quite likely playing their sci-fi song “Time Machine.” The concertgoers on the tenth, however, had no idea that they would soon witness the most crucial event in the history of sci-fi music.

Most of them already knew who David Bowie was – the singer who, three years earlier, had sung “Space Oddity,” and who had appeared very seldom in public since, focusing instead on making records that barely dented the charts. His relatively low profile in recent years hadn’t helped his latest single, “Changes,” which had come out in January. Despite its soaring, anthemic sound, it failed to find immediate success in England. But the lyrics of the song seemed to signal an impending metamorphosis, hinted at again in late January when Bowie declared in a Melody Makerinterview, “I’m gay and always have been” and unabashedly predicted, “I’m going to be huge, and it’s quite frightening in a way.” Bowie clearly had a big plan up his immaculately tailored sleeve. But what could it be?

Before Bowie took the stage of the Toby Jug, an orchestral crescendo announced him. It was a recording of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, drawn from the soundtrack to A Clockwork Orange. To anyone who’d seen the film, the music carried a sinister feeling, superimposed as it was over Kubrick’s visions of grim dystopia and ultraviolence. Grandiloquence mixed with foreboding, shot through with sci-fi: it couldn’t have been a better backdrop for what the pint-clutching attendees of the Toby Jug were about to behold.

At around 9:00 p.m., the houselights were extinguished. A spotlight sliced the darkness. Bowie took the stage. But was it really him? In a strictly physical sense, it must have been. But this was Bowie as no one had seen him before. His hair – which appeared blond and flowing on the cover of Hunky Dory, released just three months earlier – was now chopped at severe angles and dyed bright orange, the color of a B-movie laser beam. His face was lavishly slathered with cosmetics. He wore a jumpsuit with a plunging neckline, revealing his delicate, bone-pale chest, and his knee-high wrestling boots were fire-engine red. Bowie had never been conservative in dress, but even for him, this was a quantum leap into the unknown.

Then he began to play. His band – dubbed the Spiders from Mars and comprising guitarist Mick Ronson, bassist Trevor Bolder, and drummer Woody Woodmansey – was lean, efficient, and powerful, clad in gleaming, metallic outfits that mimicked spacesuits, reminiscent of the costumes from the campy 1968 sci-fi romp Barbarella. The Jane Fonda vehicle had been a huge hit in England, and it became a cult film in the United States, thanks to its titillating portrayal of a future where sensuality is rediscovered after a lifetime of sterile, virtual sex.

In the same way, Bowie’s new incarnation was shocking, lurid, and supercharged with sexual energy. Combined with his recent admission of either homosexuality or bisexuality, as he was then married to his first wife, Angela, Bowie’s new persona oozed futuristic mystique, which Bowie biographer David Buckley described as “a blurring of ‘found’ symbols from science fiction – space-age high heels, glitter suits, and the like.”

But what bewitched the audience most was the music. Amid a set of established songs such as “Andy Warhol,” “Wild Eyed Boy from Freecloud,” and, naturally, “Space Oddity,” the Spiders from Mars injected a handful of new tunes, including “Hang On to Yourself” and “Suffragette City,” that had yet to appear on record. Propulsive, infectious, and awash in dizzying imagery, this was a new Bowie – cut less from the thoughtful, singer-songwriter mold and more from some new hybrid of thespian rocker and sci-fi myth. These songs bounced off the walls of the Toby Jug’s no-longer-ordinary function room. The audience, whistling and cheering, was entranced. A show eye-popping enough to dazzle an entire arena was being glimpsed in the most intimate of watering holes.

Although the crowd was sparse, people stood on tables and chairs to get the best possible view. The stage was only two feet high, but it may as well have been twenty, or two million – an elevator to outer space designed to launch Bowie into an orbit far more enduring than that of Major Tom in “Space Oddity.”

At some point, amid the swirl and spectacle of the two-hour set, Bowie announced from the stage the name of his new identity: Ziggy Stardust.

Like an artifact from some alien civilization, Bowie’s fifth album, The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, was unveiled on June 16, 1972. By then, Ziggy had become a sensation. After the Toby Jug gig in February, concertgoers embraced Bowie’s new persona in music venues around the UK. Attendance swelled each night, as did a growing legion of followers who dressed themselves in homemade approximations of Bowie’s outlandish attire.

Just as the album was released, he and the Spiders appeared on the BBC’s revered Top of the Popsprogram, performing the record’s centerpiece: the song “Starman.” For many of a certain age, watching Bowie on their family’s television that evening was tantamount to the Beatles’ legendary spot on The Ed Sullivan Show in the United States eight years earlier. “He was so vivid. So luminous. So fluorescent. We had one of the first color TVs on our street, and David Bowie was the reason to have a color TV,” remembered Bono of U2, who was twelve at the time. “It was like a creature falling from the sky. Americans put a man on the moon. We had our own British guy from space.”

Musically, “Starman” was an exquisite and striking slice of pop songcraft, exactly what Bowie needed at that point in his career. Lyrically, he smuggled in a sci-fi story that centers around Ziggy Stardust, who was both Bowie’s alter ego and the fictional protagonist of the Rise and Fall concept album, as loose as it was in that regard – it is more a fugue of ideas that coalesce into a concept. Through the radio and TV, an alien announces his existence to Earth, which Bowie describes in lovingly rendered sci-fi verse: “A slow voice on a wave of phase.” The young people of the world become enchanted and hope to lure the alien down: “Look out your window, you can see his light /If we can sparkle, he may land tonight.” But that alien is reticent, and his shyness makes him all the more magnetic.

Bowie sang the song on Top of the Pops clad in a multicolored, reptilian-textured jumpsuit, which Melody Maker called, “Vogue’s idea of what the well-dressed astronaut should be wearing.” In that sense, “Starman” is a self-fulfilling prophecy: before he could truly know the impact the song would have, he used it to describe its effect on Great Britain’s young people in perfect detail. He was the starman waiting in the sky, and the kids who saw him on TV soon began to dress like him, hoping to sparkle so that he may land tonight.

If Bowie intended “Starman” to be an overt reference to [Robert A.] Heinlein’s Starman Jones, the book he loved as a kid, he never publicly confessed to it. But the admittedly sketchy story line of Rise and Fall parallels another Heinlein work: Stranger in a Strange Land, the novel that had influenced David Crosby in the ’60s and, later, many other sci-fi musicians of the ’70s. The book’s hero,Valentine Michael Smith, comes to Earth from Mars; in Rise and Fall, Mars is built into the title. And both Valentine and Ziggy become messiahs of a kind – androgynous, libertine heralds of a new age of human awareness. Bowie claimed he’d turned down offers to star in a film production of Stranger in a Strange Land and had few positive words to say about the book, calling it “staggeringly, awesomely trite.” Be that as it may, he clearly had read the book and developed a strong opinion of it – perhaps enough for some of its themes and iconography to seep into his own work.

The opening song of Rise and Fall, “Five Years,” elegiacally delivers a dystopian forecast: the world will end in five years due to a lack of resources, and society is disintegrating into a slow-motion parade of perversity and moral paralysis. It’s a countdown to doomsday, with the clock set at five years. The song’s ominous refrain, “We’ve got five years,” is sung by Bowie with increasing histrionics, his voice sounding more panicked and deranged as he repeats the phrase. “The whole thing was to try and get a mocking angle at the future,” Bowie said in 1972. “If I can mock something and deride it, one isn’t so scared of it” – with “it” being the apocalypse.

“Five Years” set a chilling tone, but Rise and Fall didn’t entirely wallow in it. The coming of an alien rock star named Ziggy Stardust is relayed in a multi-song story that’s equally melancholy and ecstatic, tragic and triumphant. On tracks such as “Moonage Daydream,” “Star,” and “Lady Stardust,” Bowie wields terms such as “ray gun” and “wild mutation.” He also claims, “I’m the space invader,” as though he were channeling the ideas of his sci-fi heroes Stanley Kubrick or William S. Burroughs, particularly the latter’s 1971 novel, The Wild Boys.

As Bowie explained, “It was a cross between [The Wild Boys] and A Clockwork Orange that really started to put together the shape and the look of what Ziggy and the Spiders were going to become. They were both powerful pieces of work, especially the marauding boy gangs of Burroughs’s Wild Boys with their bowie knives. I got straight on to that. I read everything into everything. Everything had to be infinitely symbolic.” The photos of the Spiders from Mars inside the album sleeve of Rise and Fall were even patterned after the gang of Droogs of A Clockwork Orange; Droogs are mentioned by name in the Rise and Fall song “Suffragette City.” Furthermore, Bowie posed on theback cover of the album, peering out of a phone booth – just as though he were that other cryptic British alien who regularly regenerates himself and is often seen in a phone booth (specifically a police call box), the Doctor from Doctor Who.

Bowie also drew from work of the Legendary Stardust Cowboy. Born Norman Carl Odam, the Texan rockabilly artist released a twangy, oddball 1968 single titled “I Took a Trip (On a Gemini Spaceship)” that Bowie wound up covering in 2002; it was from Odam that Bowie borrowed Ziggy’s surname. And after going on a record-buying spree while touring the United States in 1971, he bought Fun House by the Michigan proto-punk band the Stooges, whose outrageous lead singer was named Iggy Pop. He jotted down ideas on hotel stationary while traveling the States, resulting in a name that was a mash-up of Iggy Pop and the Legendary Stardust Cowboy. Ziggy Stardust was a fabricated rock star, one whose sleek facade flew in the face of the era’s reigning rock aesthetic of laid-back, unpretentious authenticity. Instead, Bowie wanted to puncture that illusion by taking rock showmanship to a previously unseen, self-referential extreme.

When it came to Bowie’s urge toward collage and deconstruction, Burroughs remained a prime inspiration. A pioneer of postmodern sci-fi pastiche as well as the literary cut-up technique, in which snippets of text were randomly rearranged to form a new syntax, Burroughs straddled both pulp sci-fi and the avant-garde, exactly the same liminal space Bowie now occupied. Rock critic Lester Bangs accused Bowie of “trying to be George Orwell and William Burroughs” while dismissing him as appearing to be “deposited onstage after seemingly being dipped in vats of green slime and pursued by Venusian crab boys” – a description that sounded like it could have been cribbed straight from a Burroughs book.

In 1973, Burroughs met Bowie in the latter’s London home. The meeting was arranged by A. Craig Copetas from Rolling Stone, and the resulting exchange was published in the magazine a few months later. In the article, Copetas observed that Bowie’s house was “decorated in a science-fiction mode,” and that Bowie greeted them “wearing three-tone NASA jodhpurs.” The ensuing conversation ranged across many topics, but it circled around science fiction – and in particular, the similarity Bowie saw between Rise and Fall and Burroughs’s 1964 novel Nova Express, a surreal sci-fi parable about mind control and the tyranny of language.

In an effort to convince Burroughs of the similarity, Bowie offered one of the most revealing analyses of Rise and Fall as a work of science fiction:

“The time is five years to go before the end of the Earth. It has been announced that the world will end because of a lack of natural resources. Ziggy is in a position where all the kids have access to things that they thought they wanted. The older people have all lost touch with reality, and the kids are left on their own to plunder anything. Ziggy was in a rock & roll band, and the kids no longer wanted to play rock & roll. There’s no electricity to play it.”

Bowie went on:

“[The environmental apocalypse] does not cause the end of the world for Ziggy. The end comes when the infinites arrive. They really are a black hole, but I’ve made them people because it would be very hard to explain a black hole onstage.”

Curiously, it took him another twenty-six years before casually revealing in an interview that a sci-fi song called “Black Hole Kids” was recorded as an outtake during the sessions for Rise and Fall. He called the song “fabulous,” adding, “I have no idea why it wasn’t on the original album. Maybe I forgot.”

But Bowie dropped the biggest revelation about Rise and Fallin the 1973 conversation with Burroughs. Ziggy Stardust, according to his creator, is not an alien himself; instead, he’s an earthling who makes contact with extra-dimensional beings, who then use him as a charismatic vessel for their own nefarious invasion plan. But like Frankenstein’s monster being erroneously called “Frankenstein” to the point where it seems senseless to quibble with that usage, Ziggy Stardust continues to be widely considered the alien entity of Rise and Fall. Considering the shifting identity and gender of Bowie’s most famous alter ego, that ambiguity may well have been his intention. Talking to Burroughs, he ultimately labels Rise and Fall “a science-fiction fantasy of today” before reiterating its similarity to Nova Express, to which Burroughs responds, “The parallels are definitely there.”

Rise and Fall has always been as fluid as Bowie’s facade itself. Michael Moorcock’s Eternal Champion cast a shadow over Ziggy Stardust, especially the glammy incarnation of the many-faced character known as Jerry Cornelius – who was adapted to the big screen in 1973 for the feature film The Final Programme. It coincided with Ziggy’s own ascendency, not to mention the New Wave of Science Fiction and its preference for fractured narratives and multiple interpretations over linear stories and pat endings.

During their mutual interview, Burroughs brought up the then-current rumor that Bowie might play Valentine Michael Smith in a film adaptation of Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land. Bowie again dismissed it. “It seemed a bit too flower-powery, and that made me a bit wary.” For his part, Bowie’s fellow sci-fi musician Mick Farren of the Deviants later admitted he always thought Michael Valentine Smith was a major influence on Ziggy Stardust. “I was certain someone would call him out for plagiarism,” Farren said. “Nobody did.”

Bowie may have denied his affinity for Stranger in a Strange Land by his boyhood go-to author Heinlein, but he was not shy about professing his love for one of the authors Lester Bangs compared him to: George Orwell. Almost as a footnote, Bowie told Burroughs, “Now I’m doing Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four on television.” That project would never come to pass, but it would lay the groundwork for his next, less famous sci-fi concept album – a jagged, atmospheric song cycle that plunged Bowie into the darkest extremes of dystopia.

[gunsmoke-snakeoil]

At the Rivers Edge- Pt 1

Arthur X Female!Reader 

 Part 2| Part 3

Arthur comes into camp with a familiar dark air about him that leaves you hurting in his stead. Being one of the few who know him well enough to read his body language, you do everything to keep his mind off of the one and only Mary Linton

This one ended up getting long, and I wanted to split it up. However I felt like it would take away from the story… So in the end I decided it will just be a really long, short story. I hope you will all forgive me for it’s length, and enjoy this fluffy and angsty little fic! Stay safe and healthy! 

A shit eating grin radiated off your glowing face as you slammed your hunting knife into the table in a wave of victory. Hoops and hollers echoed through the trees as you slouched back in your chair, eyeing your blonde headed opponent. Micah mumbled complaints and slides in your direction while forcing the tip of his knife from the wood grain of the table. He wiped the blade on his pants before spreading his fingers wide.

It was one of those days; too hot to go out but perfect for staying in and enjoying the fleeting cool mountain breeze that happened it’s way through Horseshoe Overlook.  Everyone in camp had that same feeling, so that late afternoon when chores were nearly completed, there was a challenge of five finger fillet  and Micah was the Challenger. People would pay to see you compete against him.

It was well known that a rivalry blossomed between you since the moment he graced the gang with his presence. He hated that you, a woman, stood on a higher pedestal then he did. Your word was held to more importance then his. And whenever you’d take a lead and begin your journey out with Arthur or John by your side; he’d spit venom at you for being one of the side arms of Dutch. Women are second to the man and when I get on top, you’ll be the first to fall. You hardly paid his snarls any mind, you just moved on passed as if the breeze had whistled just a touch.

Ever since his entry in, he worked his way to the top ready to drop who he could. And like an ear mite he began to work into Dutch’s ear. And Micah would challenge you all the way for dominance, whether it was big or small it didnt matter, he just needed to win.

So when Micah stabbed his knife into the table you sat at eating Pearson’s stew and presented the challenge; everyone was gathered to see how well the cocky gunslinger would manage.

You rubbed your smooth, unscathed fingers watching as Micah slipped, nicking the crease of his pinkie finger. He seethed before starting again, quicker this time to make up for the loss. Before he made it back to his oozing pinkie, Lenny slammed the table “Time!” He shouted making Micah curse and toss his knife.

“Well, that leaves (Y/N) with nine, and Micah with eight.” Javier grinned, sipping at a half drunk beer. Micah scowled, watching your sweet eyes move around the crowd.

“Good game Micah,” you smirked, “you talk the talk,” you stood pulling your knife from the table and sheathing it. “But you can’t walk the walk.”

“I think that was luck.” Micah’s voice came off in a airy tone, “I say we do it again. This time will be different.”

The sound of beating hooves caught your attention and you turned your head to see Arthur ride in with a swarm of bad air. “I’d love to Micah, but you ought to rest that bloody stump of a hand before trying again. I’d hate to see you lose a finger.” You narrowed your eyes with a quirky grin before going to greet Arthur.

It was another well known fact that you were very close with Arthur. And just like him and John, you were one of the first. You were young, about 14 when Hosea and Dutch introduced you to the boys. You had a wild look to you, drawn up from abandonment and abuse that lead you to act in a crazed way that intrigued the older gentlemen. You were shaking and covered in bruises and blood when you met the eyes of Arthur and John. It took you a while, but you came around and became close with both boys; especially Arthur. Over the years, you both went sweet on each other but couldn’t gain the courage to admit it. And the feeling always stuck even after he met Mary Gillis.

“How’s it goin’,” you grinned giving his stallion a soft pat as Arthur climbed down.

“Been better.” He sighed while whispering compliments in his horses’ ear.

You knew Arthur pretty well, and you could read some of his body language like a book. His jaw tightened and his blue eyes grew a little cold. Your heart grew heavy, sinking deep towards your stomach. He gave you a weak smile before turning to head into camp. You stood cemented in place, running gentle hands down the mane of his  Dutch Warmblood. 

“Tell me boy,” you whispered as Arthur stopped at Dutch’s tent, with his large hands resting on his gun belt. “Did he meet up with Mary?” The horse whinnied almost like a confirmation. You gave him a sugar cube as a thank you before nodding slowly, “thought so.”

You hated Mary, and Arthur knew that. You didn’t hate her because he loved her; you weren’t that shallow. You hated the way she talked to him, hated the way she treated him and the way she left him. You had watched the way she destroyed pieces of him you were lucky to see before they were damaged. He was a different man after she came through like a tsunami of manipulation and negativity. And even after the engagement was broken, her picture remained at his bedside. You had wished to go back before he met Mary and confess all of your feelings to spare him the heartbreak.

You plotted, while leaning against the post between your horse and his; on how to take his mind off of whatever transpired in the few days he had been gone. If your sole purpose was to bring him back from whatever sad trip he took, then you’d be damned if that job hadn’t been completed. Your wild bay mustang laid his head on your shoulder huffing his hot breath onto your cheek. He lipped your ear gently making you giggle and nudge him off. “I’m thinking Zeus.” Your horse snorted, dipping his head down to catch some grass in his teeth.

You kicked at a rock buried deep in the earth, masked beneath the saw grass that came up to your upper thigh. Digging the tip of your boot to wedge beneath the rock, you kicked it up and smacked it out of the way. Your gaze followed the bending blades of grass and didn’t stop until you found Arthur’s figure again. Now he was talking to a drunk Swanson, who seemed to have a permanent scent of beer staining his weathered skin. People would think nothing of  Arthur’s changed demeanor. Nor would they notice. But you knew by the way he stood, the way his blue green eyes hardly held the motivation to focus on anything in particular. You felt the twinge of restlessness settle in your bones. Just a mild distraction you thought as you pushed yourself off the hitching post. 

Arthur moseyed over to Strauss who sat near the edge of Horseshoe overlook writing feverishly in the ledger. “Ah, Mr. Morgan-” Strauss began, looking over his rounded glasses. Arthur tipped his hat, looking out at the valley below. Strauss wrote something on a piece of paper and handed it up to Arthur, who hesitantly took it and looked over it. You moved through camp quietly, not picking up to much attention as you moved towards Arthur. You hadn’t thought up any plan, but you were better on the spot anyway. Once you stood a few feet from Arthur with his back to you, head down and looking at the paper, you waited a moment for that idea to pop up. And it surely did as soon as he shifted his hat slightly on his head.

You smiled wickedly, glancing around at the less then aware camp behind you. Biting your lip, you rose to your tip toes and grabbed the brim of his hat. With one motion you whipped the hat off his head and rested it gently on your own. It was way to big, and covered your eyes slightly. The whiff of musky scent the hat held filled your body with a sudden nervousness. The confidence that forced your hand to take the hat was pilfered as soon as the hat hit your own head.

He whipped around, meeting your shaking wide grin. You forced the nervousness away for a moment to regain the ability to think straight.

Just a distraction

“What are you doing?”

You shrugged, shifting the hat to properly see the swarm of confusion in his eyes. “I think your hat looks fantastic on me, don’t you?” That nervousness turned quickly to mischievous as you backed up.

“(Y/N) I ain’t really in the mood for this.” He grumbled turning fully to face you. “Give me the hat back.”

With a cheeky grin you popped out your hip. “Now I stole it, you think I’m gonna give it back?” You challenged. “If I robbed a bank, you think imma give that money back cause they want it?” A sudden surge of excitement filled you when he sighed, the look from before dissipated and a spark of playfulness flashed back.

You had everyone’s attention as you backed up slowly towards the horses. “Now if we are playing by that logic,” Arthur reasoned stepping around Strauss “then I have the right to watch you swing.”

“You do, and rightfully so. But in order for that, you gotta catch me.”

“How old you think we are? Twelve?” Arthur grumbled a small smile growing from the corner of his lips.

“Ain’t too old for thievn’ and taking what I want.” You hummed while turning on your heels and walking to your horse. “I always wanted the hat of the great Arthur Morgan!” You called, holding the crown of his hat to your head. The breeze of your stride threatening to knock it off. Shaking his head he gave an airy chuckle while following after you. He had longer legs, so making the distance between you took hardly any time at all. Of course you were slowed by the wind gathering in his hat. You heard his steps before you saw him and held the hat tight to your crown when you felt it tug.

“Come on, you’re being a fool.” He breathed, grabbing you around your waist to keep you from leaving and again he tried to pry the hat off your head.

“Arthur!” You gasped “look!” You pointed to the trees with one hand.

“Don’t think you’re fooling me with that crap.” He huffed as you slammed your butt into his hips. He released you and a laugh bubbled from your throat and warmed your cheeks.

“I know, silly me,“  the rush of shock that fumbled against his face made your heart skip a beat. It didn’t take long for him to bounce back.

“Oh you are gonna get it woman.” He called, as you quickly made it to your horse. In a rushed frenzy you untied him from the post and took off with Arthur close behind you.

“What wild thing bit you on the ass?” He yelled after you, your hands holding tight to the weathered leather perched on your head. You laughed in response while encouraging Zeus towards the  Dakota River. It only took a small gust of wind to knock that hat off your head and send it flying to the river. You gasped before having Zeus turn sharply and dart towards the bank where the hat sat in the gravel. Zeus had hardly made it to the shore by the time Arthur scooped the hat off the ground.

“You are a terrible thief.” He smirked, watching as you climbed off of your mustang.

You huffed, shaking your head. “I know it. Bout as good as Jack,”

“Now that’s just mean towards Jack. He could do better then this half ass attempt.” Arthur chuckled “I’m sure a squirrel could do better.”

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up Morgan…” You rolled your eyes before focusing them on his chest. “Ew now what’s that?” You asked walking towards him, pointing to his left pectoral. “Looks like you hit a June bug.”

He groaned in disgust, eyes flickering towards his chest; searching for the squashed beetle. You smiled ear to ear before running your finger up his chest, hitting his nose and grabbing his hat off his head. “Made ya look.” You giggled, taking off towards the river with his hat secured in your arms.

He couldn’t help but laugh himself. “You make me wonder if you ever grew up.” He smiled admiring you as you stood at the edge of the water, pointed boots dipped into the waters edge.

“Do any of us really grow up?” You asked putting his hat back on your head while looking out at the river.

“I suppose not all of us…” He came to stand beside you, his boots also dipped into the river. “some of us more then others.“ 

“Keeps us from getting boring.” You breathed, the sun growing warmer, the sky burning gold. In that moment, you wished you were kids again. It seemed so much easier, despite the many things stacked against you. Spontaneously, you kicked off your boots and rolled your pants up to your mid calf. The river water danced through the tips of your toes sending soft shivers through your limbs. You held onto his hat with one hand before taking one large step forward. The glacier water was freezing, but at the same time, you couldn’t careless. It felt good, the rushing rapids brushing against your bare legs.

The feeling of his eyes on you made your heart beat harder, stronger then before; sending waves of heat to your already red cheeks. You noticed the look on his face from the corner of your eye, a small smile graced against his rough features. The blue in his eyes shimmered against the oranges of the sun and that look you knew from before turned into something foreign. You looked away, grinning at the birds flying just in front of the sun, and the deer grazing 200 yards away.

It wasn’t long until Arthur joined you, wading beside you. No words were spoken, but that look remained. “I never seen you smile like that Arthur, you okay?”

The moment cut and he looked down at you. “I’m thinking.” He stated shortly.

“Now I’ve seen your thinking face.” Stepping in front of him, you looked up at his face. “Your eyebrows are usually not so loose. They are more knotted.” Your own mimicked what his would look like. “You’re mouth, well usually that sits in a thin line like this.” You pulled your delicate smile into a line. “and your eyes don’t sparkle quite like that. They are more sharp,” you squinted your eyes just a bit forcing a small chuckle from Arthur.

“Do I look that ugly when I think?”

You couldn’t help but gasp, and hurl a handful of water towards him. “You are not ugly, and I like your thinking face!” He laughed at the offended look you gave him. He sent water back with his foot making you yelp, the water sending a cold shock through your body.

“Tell me what this face means then,” he gave you the dumbest look, jutted jaw, crossed eyes, tongue out.

“That’s the look of I’m bout to kick your ass Morgan!” You shouted grabbing his hat off your head and tossing it to the shore. You charged at him, sending barrels of water his way and he did the same back. You went to push him, but he was ready and hoisted you up on his shoulder.  He kicked back cold waves of water from his feet, soaking your upper body and face. You choked out laughter, pounding balled fists into his back in hopes he’d have enough. “Oh you are so dead! Dead like a door nail!” You gasped as he sat you down. Without a beat, you shoved him enough to send him back into the river. And you winced when he hit, water splashing up and hitting your already drenched face.

The shock from his face disappeared when you laughed, and a smile of his own took its place. You helped him up while wringing out your soaked top. Bending, you collected his hat from the ground and combed your wet hair with your fingers; pushing the locks from your face. He stood, groaning at the wet clothes. You climbed up on a boulder just on the edge of shore and sat down, letting the sun dry you off.

“I’m getting to old for your antics,” he groaned while he stepped to shore.  Smiling you tapped the spot next to you, inviting him into the sun.

“As am I.”

He shook his head and sat beside you, running cold hands down his face. You sat cross legged his hat in your lap. Your fingers traced the many scratches on the brim, fingertips dancing towards the crown where the hat dipped. “You went to visit Mary today didn’t you?” Your eyes never looked up from the hat.

“Why does it matter (Y/N)?”

“She ain’t nothing but trouble Arthur. I don’t like seeing you come home looking like that. She ain’t fair with you.” Your grip on his hat tightened. “what did she even want this time? Cause I can tell nothin good came from it.”

“It ain’t none of your business.”

“Yeah, sure, it is when it hurts you cause seeing you like that hurts me. Why do you keep going back Arthur? Don’t you think you deserve better then that?” Your face flushed with frustration.

Sighing, his face sunk into his cupped palms. “I dunno (Y/N), whenever she calls… I come. She has this way with me. I can’t explain.”

“Well what did she want?”

“Wanted me to help Jamie. He got caught with some Chelonians or some crap.” He propped his arms on his knees, looking out at the setting sun. “I dunno (Y/N), She plays me like a fiddle, and wants me to change to fit her daddy’s vision.”

“You thinking of leaving?” Your voice came off quiet, like a wounded animal.

“No. I can’t.” He met your eyes, the concern flooding them making his own glance away. “I’ve got to many people relying on me. You know that.”

“Good. Because I don’t think she deserves you.” You slid off the rock, pebbles stabbing into your feet. You winced a little, but proceeded towards your boots. You slid them on while Arthur climbed down as well.

“I think you got that confused.” He let out an airy chuckle.

“I know what I said.” The hat fumbled in your hands as you stepped closer to him. “She’s manipulative. She is degrading. Arthur if she can’t see the beauty in who you are, then I don’t see why you stick around. She uses you, because you love her and she knows that. I think you deserve better. Sure, we are doing bad things, robbing and killing. But her guilt tripping you into changing just ain’t right.” You now stood inches from him. “I don’t like how she is with you, because I think you are an amazing man Arthur Morgan, despite all of the bad things. Right now, standing here, you are an amazing man, selfless, loyal, and understanding. You deserve more then she gives you.” You gently sat his hat on his head. “If you love her, fine. But you need to stay true to who you are and what matters most. Don’t change because she wants you to.” Your hand slid down his chest before you pulled away and mounted Zeus.

“Thank you, (Y/N).” He breathed as you took off back to camp leaving him at the river’s edge.

[hobierps]

The Lone Paradise Ranch Long have the residents of Arkney County known of the good times to be had at the Lone Paradise Ranch, where the liquor never stops flowing, nor does the parade of beautiful women. Founded nearly 20 years ago by Rafael Soler as a way to fatten his checkbook after seeing an opportunity to add a source of entertainment to the county, the Lone Paradise Ranch quickly built a name for itself among the who’s who of Arkney County and beyond, thanks in no small part to the annual Arkney Derby, an event that rivals the Kentucky Derby in scale.

While the Lone Paradise is largely known as a place to gamble away your fortune on the horse races, inside is where the real horseplay transpires. Managed by those who have fallen into Soler’s grasp, a prostitution ring is run out of the ranch—one driven by sweet words promising opportunity and the fear of what happens if you dare not believe them. Though all who fall into the spider’s web have their own cause for being there, whether it be drugs, loans with unscrupulous interest rates, or the chance at a better future, the more they struggle, the more tangled they become. Leaving seems the most obvious answer, but doing so is a nigh unattainable feat, as the Lone Paradise demands a hefty price for freedom.

The Lone Paradise promises to make your most intimate dreams come true, but who dares pay the price?

This ad is for some of the members of the local prostitution ring. The faces and some of the ages are flexible. This ad is open to original characters as well! (For all levels.)

Feel free to hit one of us up on discord at either contramundum#7735 hobie#4947 or mady#5462 if you have any questions! Full descriptions of the members of the Lone Paradise Ranch after the break~

Owner & Operator — Rafael ‘Raf’ Soler (53) FC: Benicio Del Toro || Played by Mira Owner and operator of the Lone Paradise Ranch, Rafael Soler has been at the center of Arkney County’s entertainment for nearly twenty-five years. By day, the ranch boasts family-friendly activities, but the real fun happens after the sun has fallen. The adult entertainment offered by the ranch has skyrocketed its appeal and made the Lone Paradise Ranch a name whispered among both the elite and those with more illicit cravings. He’s shown himself as an adept businessman who’s not afraid to sink to the level of his clientele, and recent years have found him more depraved than ever. In a long term business/personal relationship with Entertainment Manager, but Annie March has recently caught his eye.

Personal Assistant — Logan ‘Vick’ Vickers (34) FC: Scott Eastwood || Played by Hobie Rafael Soler’s second-in-command, Logan Vickers serves as an extension of the man’s will. He began working for the ranch after graduating high school when Raf used his wealth to protect Vick’s family’s cattle ranch from foreclosure. He is reckless and wild, a hot-headed cowboy who flies by the seat of his pants. Despite his rowdy streak, Vick oozes southern charm and rarely does he ruffle feathers without meaning to. In his youth, he was a local rodeo star, roping calves and clinging to the backs of bucking broncos. Today, he undertakes the more vicious duties for Raf, more often than not walking away with blood on his hands. He has seen the measure of Raf’s wickedness and embraced it, choosing to walk with the devil, rather than meet his wrath. Despite knowing the depths of Raf’s depravity, he has roped in his two longtime friends, the Horse Handler and the Head of Security, into his disturbing games.

Head of Security (mid 30s) — Reserved for Levi Suggested FC: Russell Tovey, Jai Courtney, Jon Kortajarena A transplant from the west coast, the Head of Security came to Arney County after his wealthy father decided to give up the good life in favor of getting back to his roots. A teenager when he arrived in Kansas, the Head of Security quickly fell in with Logan Vickers’ gang of hoodlums. Like the Horse Handler, the Head of Security was brought into Rafael Soler’s circle by Vick, yet unlike the Horse Handler, the Head of Security has no qualms about the unsavory things that go down at the ranch. Though, perhaps this is why the more abhorrent tasks are left to Vick. Instead, the Head of Security is charged with protecting the girls from overzealous patrons and the occasional disgruntled boyfriend. He and Vick are in an erratic off-the-books affair that neither man acknowledges.

Horse Handler (mid 30s) — Open Suggested FC: John Boyega, Michael B. Jordan, Dudley O'Shaughnessy Kansas born and bred, Lone Paradise’s resident Horse Handler has spent his lifetime in the flat grasslands of the Midwest. The son of a pair of horse breeders, the Horse Handler knows his way around those beautiful creatures. Like Logan Vickers, he participated in the local rodeos in his youth, solidifying their friendship—one that has lasted to this day, despite Vick’s unconscious attempts to derail it. An old soul with a bleeding heart, the Horse Handler is a misfit among the Paradise Ranch staff. He stands against everything that Rafael Soler believes, but found himself roped into the madness by Vick nearly a decade ago. Now he cares for the horses that the ranch keeps for races and fixes the odds in the house’s favor when Raf deems it necessary. A bit of a white knight, he’s been known to engage in relationships with the entertainment, believing he can save them from a life of servitude.

Legal Advisor (33-36) — Open Suggested FC: David Castañeda The legal advisor is Raf’s son, returning from a lackluster stint on the East Coast, but also the most presentable face of the operation, there in places where his father, Rafael Soler’s accent or aggressive bearing might be less welcome. Whether in dealings with local police, lawsuits, or other official functions, the legal advisor knows where all the bodies — perhaps literally — are buried, and is more than happy to grace the situation with a placid all-American smile. His exact feelings toward the ranch and/or his father are murky at best, and buried under carefully considered words; however, his eye has really been drawn to his father’s latest favorite, Annie March, much to his dismay.

Entertainment Manager (40s) — Open Suggested FC: Naomi Campbell, Kate Moss, Thandie Newton One of Raf’s long time favorite performers, the Entertainment Manager has done her fair share of favors to get to where she is today. Beginning as just one of the girls, the Entertainment Manager exercised her feminine wiles to charm Raf and win his favor. At one time, she might have thought he’d marry her, but she’s long since learned of her disillusion. A few years ago, Raf retired her from the floor and now she manages the talent with a firm, but fair, hand, taking it upon herself to protect the ones who do good work. She spits fire and fights for what she wants, but she knows to bite her tongue when it comes to Raf. Vick, however, is a different story. She knows they stand on equal footing and is more than willing to throw her weight around when necessary. She has been involved in a long term relationship with Rafael Soler that spans both the personal and professional, though his attention towards her has waned since Annie March caught his lustful gaze.

Escort One — Annie March (24) FC: Josephin Skriver || played by Mady/ She’ll convince anyone who asks that she’s doing just fine, but Annie is always a step away from disaster. After attempting to steal cash and a car from Raf, Annie has been working for him to pay off the debt. But that hasn’t stopped her from borrowing more and more money from him to fund her drug habit. Annie has her share of secrets, including that she’s trying to get a little freedom after being under Morphos’ watch for most of her childhood and can make people do just about whatever she wants them to. At the end of the day, Annie is a survivor and she’ll play whatever game she needs to in order to get by.

Escort Two (20s) — Open Suggested FC: Zendaya Too smart for her own good, Escort has her own operations going on behind Raf’s back. She has private clients she sees on the side and is carefully stealing from Raf in order to fund her escape from the ranch and Arkney. She might come off as the cold type but she has a soft spot for Jockey, even though she knows this is the last place to start caring about people. Particularly close to the Entertainment Manager and almost feels bad for lying to her face but doesn’t fully trust anyone here. Doesn’t realize how dangerous her moves are getting and that the Legal Advisor is starting to catch on.

Escort Three (early 20s) — Reserved for Sam Suggested FC: Karmay Ngai A girl from a nearby town nobody bothers to remember, she is the youngest and newest addition to Raf’s coterie. Seeing the success of former girls like the Entertainment Manager, she has an idea that the ranch is her way out. It should go without saying that not all is as it seems. From the icy indifference of the Entertainment Manager to the questionable warnings and/or advances from the Horse Handler, nothing is given and she learns she must find her footing within the complex politics of the ranch. But how long will it take for the glamor of the ranch and its clientele to wear off? Only time will tell.

Jockey (20s) — Open Suggested FC: Regé-Jean Page, Reece King, Avan Jogia First spotted by Raf at the derby, something about his headstrong, self-assured nature found him in the man’s good graces. One of the fastest racers, Raf soon after offered him a resident position at the ranch with an income that put a jockey’s to shame. Aside from serving as a conversation piece at the ranch for the guests (he’s a skilled storyteller to boot) and eyeing Escort 3, he also has been unwittingly drawn into some of the ranch’s shadier dealings by Vick and the Horse Handler. He’s beginning to realize that he can’t see the bottom of the pool he’s entered.

[sharkbait-writes]

I hope someday I’ll make it out of here

Fox-week, day #6, magic/phantom pain

Title from lovely by Billie Eilish and Khalid

@loving-fox-hours

There were various pictures flowing behind his eyelids, colourful and telling of a story, CC-1010 was not familiar with. Although they were blurry with the speed they flashed by, what they meant was unmistakable.

CC-1010 didn’t know why he saw them, but they stole his attention and he couldn’t look away.

Pictures of white walls, creatures with long necks and big, round, black eyes, their entire body long and slim. Brothers, older and younger than him, looking up to him and out for him, rolling their eyes at his silliness. Arms thrown over his shoulders, bringing him in closer for a hug, with joyous smiles directed at him. Helping hands and soothing kisses. Secret stories told in the dark and stifled laughter, going behind their instructor’s backs. Brotherly teasing and protective shields.

Of brothers in arms, living and not having a single care in the world.

Pictures of fire and ashes, sand walls and creatures with small wings. Droids attacking, shooting at his brothers. Jedis fighting and dying, overrun by the enemy. Vode coming as backup, but dying all around him, getting hit by stray fire and falling to the floor, never standing back up, their last breath and actions forgotten, the war getting more recognition and letting the first real battle fall into its shadow.

Of the end of the only life he knew and the beginning of his own sorrow.

Pictures of a planet, layers upon layers, people living their lives there. On the outer layer, buildings, reaching into the sky, and lights twinkling in the night and a temple, standing peaceful and proud amongst the hectic life around it. Him, along with many of his vode’ika, protecting their home planet, watching their vode leave for battles they might never return from. Him, standing amongst people with ridiculous getups, shooting to save them and the citizens of the planet, while getting almost no gratitude. So many of them alive, but other brothers fighting on different planets, losing their lives and nobody, except their vode and maybe their jedis, caring about their sacrifices.

Of him staying alive, when his vode died every single minute.

Pictures of his vode turning their backs on him, giving him the cold shoulder and ignoring his existence, except for when it was convenient for them. Spitting words of hate at him and fury burning behind their eyes. Getting headaches and losing memories, feeling as if he lost important time.

Of a time, everyone began to hate him and he started to feel isolated and self-hatred.

Pictures of a safe place. Protective arms and soothing words. Warm eyes and a strong shield. Hidden glances and stolen kisses. An escape from the sick world around them. Words of protection and love muttered between their spaces, as their fingers traced maps of secret pathways on his skin. Steady hands, keeping him grounded. Dark brown skin and even darker, longer hair, but eyes shining bright with love and admiration and face markings more golden than the brightest sun. A body, taller and more muscular than his own, and a stronger mind, surer of themselves and screaming of confidence. But never forcing him to do anything he wouldn’t want to and never leaving him when everything got too much. Always there for him, accepting and supporting him, and unbreakable, unyielding love. Even when he started to lose his own mind, thinking too much about the time lost and hate at him, with frayed edges in his broken mind from unseen mind-manipulation. The pure and genuine love felt between them too earnest and too strong to break.

Of an escape to a safe world, whispered words of love and shared plans of the future.

Pictures of a joyous world, falling to pieces and losing everything he ever thought to know. Telling a life, he once lived, where everything was burning down but he had a singular place to escape to, protecting him. But then it all came crashing down, burying him in his mistakes and making him live a life he couldn’t object against. Surrounded by vanishing love and brothers that never wanted anything to do with him and people who thought they were better than him.

Of a lie he was told was his life.

The pictures began to speed up, mixing up with others, making CC-1010 feel dizzy, until they came to an abrupt halt. Their colours mixed into one bright, white light, blinding him.

Suddenly it got hard to breath. He started to lose his senses, the only thing that stayed were the bright light and a singular shrill echoing in his ears.

And suddenly, CC-1010 woke up.

It was as if a switch was turned on, one moment he was on his knees and dying, the next he was laying on a stone floor, awake and very alive.

At first, it confused him, but then his memories flowed back, and he scrambled up hastily, breathing hard and eyes blazing in hurt and confusion.

He was sent on a mission, nothing special, just scouting on a rocky planet, looking for what happened to one of their older bases after it was forgotten and left alone after so many years not used. He was sent alone, after all, he only had to make sure it was still standing and usable.

As soon as he saw his destination from his cockpit, however, he knew that wasn’t the case. The only thing left of the base were ruins, itself and the land around it destroyed and burned to a crisp.

His mission was over before it began, but CC-1010 didn’t leave right away. He didn’t know why, but there was something drawning him in, and he wanted to know what. Before he could change his mind, he was already landing his ship and made his way out.

He looked around the ruins, but nothing was there, that could help him with his search. He decided to return to his ship but then got ambushed. Before he knew what happened, he was hit by a spell and fell to the floor.

Then the pictures appeared.

But CC-1010 didn’t care about his mission. What he cared about were the pictures and what they meant.

They told him a life he once participated in and that he lost. They gave him the answers he seeked for, back when he wasn’t CC-1010.

But all of that didn’t matter right now to him.

He fell to his knees, squeezed his eyes shut. His mind was screaming in pain and anger and he let the empty planet hear it, as he opened his mouth. His entire body felt numb, except for his brain and heart.

He was crying, screaming for everything he lost and the pain he felt.

Screaming himself hoarse as he wept for his brothers and their jedi, for his jetii.

For the love lost and time never regained.

He cradled his heart, curling into a protective ball around it and touched the ground with his forehead.

He screamed in pain, even if it wasn’t real and he had no visible wounds.

Fox screamed and cried.

For everything he had lost. Whether it was the friends and family, dreams and wishes, opportunities and chances, something else. Love and time.

As much as CC-1010 wondered about his former life, Fox never wanted him to experience it. But with the returning memories came the emotions.

His heart bled, hurt oozing out of it along every drop of blood. His mind was screaming out in anger, but his heart was crying in pain. The hurt was crippling and he wanted it gone. He wanted it gone, to join his vode who had their own free will and to join his lover. To join them in the realm nobody could hurt him anymore, wanted to join them in kyr’am so badly.

Fox screamed and cried, for the love lost and time never regained. Tearing himself up about what he could have done and didn’t do, and ultimately, killed them all single-handedly through those decisions.

For the pain he felt because of it.

Translations:

vode – siblings

jetti – jedi

kyr’am - death