#its that hes an old man who cant go through those processes of life again

[movedtodykedvonte]

Simon wasn't young when the war started and I think that's an important aspect in talking about why he feels so disconnected to Ooo in the present.

He was already becoming the older generation compared to a child like Marcy. He was a man established in his life and career with clear sights of where he was going and supposed to be doing. Even without the war the world would've changed beyond him but at least he wouldn't have been alone then. At least he would have time to adjust. Now imagine that it still happens but all at once. Simon got no adaption period to being obsolete in the world, a relic, an outlier. One day he fit in and the very next he painfully didn't and to make matters worse no one else can relate.

He's alone and all the planning he may have had for it is worthless cause the only thing that remains in regards to it are shadows of things that were already after him.

[cheriihoney]

got an ask about more info on my ocs harp and declan ^^ it was a sent a long time ago and now that i have time i decided to answer it! More info on Harp and Declan under the cut

📱 as i said government assigned agent to keep tabs on you on what you do on the internet and stuff. you aren't the first one he was assigned to watch but something about you seems different.

 📱he started this gig because of life circumstances that lead him to take some not so ethical and moral choices, so him taking on this job to watch a cute lil guy like you wouldnt be the worst thing

📱the cash is pretty good, he doesn't do much on the job really as he just watches well you. which definitely beats he's previous active life style where he had to take care of some people

📱now he's looking to settle down and there you were! being all cute for him! atleast that's what he believes because you are so darn cute when you don't realize you're being watched by him

📱harp isn't his real name, that's just his code name. he left his old life behind to start a new one. He doesn't want anyone to know his real name. Despite wanting to be closer to you he would still want some distance between you and him since he's never had anyone to be close to emotionally.

📱His descent to obsession with you is a slow one. Like real slow but undoubtedly its a slow but sure process. He started personally going through your accounts, photos and the like on his off time. Even at some point convincing the boss to let him have access to your webcam more to observe any 'suspicious' activity. not because he wanted to see you more.

📱it's similar to liking someone you just know based from what they post online and ideally harp shouldn't have been obsessed with you but since he has access to everything and anything that pertains to you. he feels he knows you the most - like a husband would :))

📱after he's come to terms that he's obsessed with you he starts craving the domestic life you seem to lead.

📱now he's picturing himself having a domestic life, something he never considered before but now he would love it as long as you were his wife (gender neutral)

💐his first life was set in those isekai manwha versions of europe with all those fancy balls and etiquette. thats when he first fell in love with you.

💐he met you, you got to know one another and eventually fell in love with you

  💐cant say the same for you lol you just thought he was just a really good friend!

💐anyways at any point where hes close to confessing his feelings for you, you would always be out of reach somehow. things like falling in love with another person or dying

💐over the course of a few lives later, his patience grew thin as in each life time you guys were in Declan still never had a chance to be with you himself.

💐he's always told himself to be patient and that eventually his time will come when he gets to be with you fr fr

💐yk he says like a very impatient and exhausted man practically waiting for centuries to finally be with you

💐he doesn't exactly remember each life clearly but he does know you and that he has to be with you no matter the cost

💐used to let fate guide his to lead him to you but now he's reconsidering if he should man handle fate

💐current day Declan is from old money who spares no expense to woo you the minute he found you again

💐just straights up introduces himself as your fiance. Because he wanted to atleast take things slowly, atleast he didn't introduce himself as your husband

💐he rizzes up your parents to atleast let him court you like ye olden days. old habits die hard

💐would rather be in a very very very long engagement as opposed to be being your friend first

💐somehow you do agree to atleast know him alittle

💐thus starts Declan's plan of being with you in this life. This poor man is desperate and tired of not being with you in any of his previous lives

💐let him have this one?

[le0watch]

i cant get this out of my mind so imma just type it out:

god au where the main characters of sk8 are sort of their own pantheon.

-Masai, Goddess of Fertility and the Stars. she gave birth to reki similar to the ways the old gods of north and greek mythology did- in unconventional ways. reki was born from a star, after masai touched its surface with her finger. reki formed inside, forming and being "born" just as the earth was created, and the sun came from the remenants of his formation. she wears a crown of tiny stars, and the edges of her cloak are dotted with the stars as well.

Children of Masai, lesser gods(still powerful beyond belief, however):

-Reki, God of the Sun and Warmth. reki is the embodiment of the sun, as well as the controller of warmth and heat. he controls the sun, similar to apollo, and makes sure that the earth revolves around every day. he is also the creator of fire, creating it while he was playing with the sun's surface. when people were formed, he gave fire to them as a gift. this helped people evolve drastically. he is constantly surrounded by a bright, godly glow, his eyes holding every color of heat and warmth. he has a halo of light over his head, created by his mother from the light of stars as a gift. he wears it proudly. he gives off a constant heat, proof that is was born from the star known as the sun.

-Koyomi, Goddess of Spring. she was born from a white cloud, warmed by her mother's touch. she came up with the idea of the first season on earth: spring. this was before the other seasons were created, and so many reptilians evolved rapidly under her touch. she is often found wearing green and pink robes, as well as a crown similar to that of reki's.

-Nanaka and Chihiro, Twin Goddesses of Summer. They were born from the petals of a flower, held gently in their mother's hands. They were small at first, tiny as a pair of seeds, and still have yet to grow into their full goddesshood. but that didn't stop them from "copying" their older sister's idea of a season, and they wound up creating summer, a season of heat and more heat. they asked their eldest sibling, reki, to help with the creation, and he gave in, but ended up sending a bit too much heat. reptilians continued to thrive beneath the sun's strong waves. they wear a matching pair of sun like crowns, gifted to them from reki, as well as robes of orange and red.

Nanako, Goddess of Space and Kindness. nanako was the first god or goddess to ever be born, and was brought to life along with the existence of space. she is the eldest of the gods, yet she is also the most kind and gentle. she existed alone in the void, until a nearby spark lit up, before bursting outwards, and masai came into existence with the stars. they worked together to create planets. nanako grew jealous of masai as she gave birth to children, but it was impossible for her to do it similarly, since she is not the goddess of fertility. she begged for masai to make her fertile for at least one child, and was told she could only give birth with the help of a mortal man. this is how she met and chose oliver, a mortal from the time just before the ice age, who was blessed with the most intelligence and wisdom over any other, recognizing her and treating her kindly. this is how langa was conceived. she too wears a crown created by masai, and wears a cloak as dark and unconceivable as the void of space, dark matter rising from it like smoke. despite her choice of wardrobe, she radiates kindness and love.

Child of Nanako, a lesser god:

Langa, God of Snow and Growth. though it may sound confusing as to why langa, god of the snow, also contains the ability of growth, it is not the growth of plants, since most die from his chilling touch. he is the god of growth in people and their abilities, helping to shape them and give them inspiration in whatever they chose to do. he is one of the gods that blessed mortals the most after his mother, blessing them with natural ability and adaptative personalities. he is also the creator of winter, somehow snuffing out the sun's heat from affecting the earth as much, creating snow and ice in the process. he has not yet met reki the sun god, and does not of his transgression, but the third season was created, causing the ice age the extinction of 90% of the earth's population. he is also the youngest of the gods, the others being born prior to the creation of men. he made himself a crown of ice, that is also snowing across his blue hair. he also wears a large coat, snow cascading from the shoulders like the fur of a wolf (he asked miya for the favor of creating wolves, and he stills owes a favor to miya in return). most of his wardrobe are blues, whites and greys.

Miya, God of Animals and Mischief. miya is the creator of every single animal that roams the earth. he started with the bacteria before he grew bored, and then created evolution, helping the animals to change into different variations of themselves, dropping different creations during the time before humans. he helped to make dinosaurs and birds and mammals and fish and bugs, until he grew bored of unintelligent creatures. he made human from the first monkey he saw, touching it with intelligence and watching it grow. he also loves to tease and prank the other gods and goddesses, throwing them for loops. his best friend, though he won't admit it, is the sun god himself, who enjoys partaking in his play every now and again. he has a wardrobe made entirely of the pelts of various unknown animals to humans, which are in the colors of purple and pink and green. he also likes to make a tail for himself. miya prefers to not wear a crown, but when he has to, it is a crown of bronze.

Kojiro, God of Strength and Wisdom. kojiro is the definition of brain and brawn, helping the animals miya made have both strength and the minor wisdom they needed to survive. when miya created humans, he asked kojiro to give the humans more wisdom along with the intelligence he gave them. kojiro agreed, intruged by miya's newest creation. he visits with mortals often, granting them strength and wisdom, or one or the other. he doesn't wear a shirt, much to kaoru's chagrin, but luckily, he does wear a pair of pants that are as soft as a cloud. kojiro wears a silver crown.

Kaoru, God of Art and Creation: every god mentioned above has at one point or another created something. this is the doing of kaoru, allowing them the idea of creating anything. he gifted it to each of the gods- some more than others (kojiro was given the least amount, as well as anoisuke), and brought art to the humans in their early stages, helping them reach their full potential of wisdom and creation. this led to humans becoming the dominant species on earth. kaoru was the one to create miya from the oil of one of his paintings alongside kojiro, and thus miya refers to them as his parents, much to kaoru's annoyance. he wears robes similar to the kimonos in japan, and he favors the japanese over most other humans, giving them many gifts of art and creation. he wears a golden crown atop his head.

because of this, kojiro and kaoru are often depicated together, and they are referred to as the patron gods of techonolgy, humanity's greatest show of creation with their wisdom. occasionally, miya is also depicted with them both, and they are recognized as the patrons of family.

Hiromi, God of Plants and Life. hiromi was the one that made miya and kojiro's ideas of life on earth possible. he created the first life on earth ever: a tiny, pre-tree plant. he gave it life, making it grow and breathe until the earth was inhabitable for the creatures kojiro and miya desired to create. his favorite creation of all is that of flowers. he made those with love and care, nurturing the first flowers to life with his hands rather than his godly power. he has a crown of flower petals, as well as a robe made mostly of flowers.

Anoisuke, God of Death and Despair. anoiskue has a long and twisted history with the other gods, and as such, was locked and chained to the underworld, where he could still properly preform his job of taking those who were meant to go. he is still a heavy subject among the pantheon, as well the mortals below. it is said that he terrorized the others of the pantheon before he was locked away, and even tried to kill the sun god reki, before the god of snow stopped him, freezing him in place. anoisuke had been planning to kill the sun god to put out the sun and throw the mortals into utmost despair, so he could drag them all to the depths of the underworld below. he also had a particular interest in the snow god, believing that with his power over cold, they could freeze the entire planet over, making it unhabital for any mortal. langa outright refused.

this was how the snow god and the god of the sun met, and eventually fell in love. the mixture of their heat and cold created the final season, fall, which presides on its own without the control of a god. one would think that they could be around one another often due to their opposing temperatures, but they would be wrong. langa is so cold that he could never experience heat, while reki is so hot he could never experience cold. when they are together, the mortals consider them the patron gods of love, and they are often depicted together, with the sun and moon merged together.

Minor gods (not apart of the main pantheon):

Oka, God of Trust. oka is the god of trust, making him popular among the true believers of the human race. he helps them to root out the toxic people in their lives, as well as those they can trust the most. he is also called upon to solidify promises that can never be broken, until the promise is fulfilled.

Tadashi, God of Servitude. tadashi is the patron god of past slaves, servants, and the blue collar workers of the human population. they pray to him to lower their work, and help them get through a long day. depictions of him are a lot of the time that of a black labrador retriever, the symbol of obidience in their world. as such, he obidiently retrieves the souls of the dead to bring to his master, the god of the dead. he is also known as the god of soul reaping due to this.

due to tadashi and anoisuke's close relationship, they are often depicted together as a warning to those working, as a warning to not be too submissive, or you will be undoubtedly taken advantage of. when a person wants ward off possible bosses who force them into an unfair working situation, they will wear a pendant of tadashi and anoisuke's combined symbols- that of a skeleton holding the chain of a dog.

???, God of Youth. this is a god that everyone has forgotten the name of, but refer to as Youthian. no one has a solid depiction of they, nor entirely what they truly are a patron of, but most believe them to be that of youth and the protection of children. this god is rumored to have once been the close friend of the sun god reki, before they suddenly vanished from the pantheon.

[daddynegandesires]

Secrets chapter 2

Summary: negans jealousy and temptation starts to escalate when he starts coming around trying to fit his way back into your life while also showing jack who the man of the house is but jack may also have secrets of his own no one knows about.

🛑Warning: fluff, major smut, saddness, jealousy, cheating,fighting 🛑

@jazzy1118

18+

Sitting on your bed with mascara tears streaming down your face holding onto old pictures of you,negan and ellie. Jack walks in and you quickly wipe your tears and shove the pictures under the pillow before he notices.

"Hey baby...whats wrong?" Jack slides in next to you

"Oh nothing haha" you sniffle and play it off all cool

"You looked beautiful lastnight...i realized i forgot to tell you" he said brushing a strand of hair behind your ear leaning in to kiss you softly. Jack resches inbetween your skirt automatically causing your legs to spread apart inviting him in. He reaches his other hand up your shirt grabbing your boob gently squeezing it in his hand you begin to quickly unbutton your blouse breathing heavier when the front door opens. You frantically pull your shirt back together terribly and tugging at your skirt when you exit the room to see negan and ellie standing in the living room.

" have you ever heard of calling or sending a text!!??" You cross your arms over your chest with a few buttons still loose allowing your black lace bra to peak out

"Well....looks like youve been busy" negan takes off his glasses sliding them ontop of his head

"I just thought id come by and cookout for ellie.." He grins pulling out steaks and ribs from a grocery bag.

"Oh! I brought wine too...your favorite"

"Cook out!?...wha" you followed behind him outside to the patio slamming the door behind you.

"So you think you can just walk into my house acting like you own the place saying you want to "cook out" for ellie!!??" By now you are almost inces away from him

Negan flicks on the grill and then grabs you gently by your face.

"I believe its my house too.....my name is also on the deed" he relases his hand and then walks past you back inside

You scoff to yourself as you stand there trying to process what is going on when jack comes outside.

"Im heading out for work...also whats up with him?"

"I..uh...he is cooking out for ellie i suppose" you said running your finger's through your messy hair

"I see.....well ill see you later, message me!" He gave you a quick peck on the cheek before hopping into his car and driving off. You sigh to yourself opening the door walking back into the kitchen seeing negan rubbing up the meat with spice's and ellie downing a bowl of chocolate ice cream.

"Negan! Seriously you gave her ice cream before dinner" you quickly took the spoon and bowl away from ellie before she could cram another spoonful in her mouth

"Whaaat let the kid live alittle...." He looks at ellie giving her a goofy face

You go over to dump out the ice cream in the trash can before dropping the dish in the sink next to negan you caught yourself looking at him his jacket was off and his sleeves were rolled up exposing his toned arms and rough hands. His black glasses resting on his face and his perfect salt and pepper hair. You always have had a thing for men a bit older than you and negan fit that image perfectly...jack was much younger than negan which you never would of guessed going for a younger man would be good for you.

"Mommy!!"

"Huh..yes honey?" Causing you to snap out of your thought's

"Can daddy stay the night we can stay up and was scawry moviessszz!!?" Ellies face lit up with excitment

"Oh. Sweetie im sorry but daddy cant stay the night" bending down to her level caressing her cheek

"Uuuuggghhhhh!! No fair!!" Ellie screams at the top of her lungs and starts flailing her arms

"Ellie! Do not act like that towards your mother!" Negans deep strong voice boomed in the kitchen almost making you weak at your knees. Ellie ran off to her room and slammed the door.

"That sassy girl" negan said looking at you through the top of his glasses

"Thank you...." You sighed exhaustedly while popping the cork off of the wine bottle and filling your cup up

"Mmmm...." Swallowing the sweet red wine feeling it flow down your throat

"So....you and younger guys huh?" Negan chuckled while washing his hands

"Something new...nothing wrong with that" you said taking another sip of your wine

"thought you had a fetish for older men....whats it called? Daddy issues"

"I guess you could say that...." Pouring more wine into your glass

"Sure sure..." Negans voice died out as he walked off to the bathroom

Negan came back into the kitchen grabbing the tray of meat outside and slapping it on the grill. You followed behind him wine glass in hand.

"So...was it you that told ellie to ask me if you could stay the night?" Raising an eyebrow

"Shouldnt you go get another glass of wine" negan chuckles

"Ya know...your cooking was always the best" chugging down the rest of your glass

" i think the wine is starting to talk haha" negan closed the lid to the grill folding his arms over his chest

---------

I was cleaning up the mess in the kitchen while ellie and negan were snuggled up on the couch watching friday the 13th together. Hearing negan be playful and caring with ellie really makes your heart happy. A part of you wishes things could have been diffrent between the two of you that is your babygirls father of course you love the both of them but being with negan just isnt in your future right now.

"Mommy come in here!"

You finished putting dishes away when you walked in there and sat down by negan he kept looking over at you grinning while ellie jumped at the scary scenes with jason Voorhees.

"So...hows the team going?"

"Good...good the boys are a handful" negan chuckled

"You were always a great coach you really pushed those boys to do great things" giving him A sweet smile

Talking about school with negan was always a touchy topic. He runs a basketball team at the local highschool......thats also where he was cheating on me with one of the english teachers.

"She is out like a light... My sweet girl." Negan was running his fingers through ellies long red hair when he looked over at you realizing you had fell asleep on his shoulder too. Negan picked up ellie and took her to her bed and tucked her in when he came back you were slightly awake.

"Thank you..." You said tiredly

"For what baby..." He said in a low deep voice

"For dinner and taking ellie to bed...its hard doing it alone sometimes..." You began to feel really vulnerable and kinda felt unsettling with negan calling you baby

"Jack should be home soon he gets off late.." You raised up off the couch

"You want me to leave...." Negan asked with puppy dog eyes

"Negan....you have to go im sorry"

"Baby....you know i never meant to hurt you" negan pulled you back down to sit on the couch

"But you did.....what were you thinking....you ruined everything" you were a bit tipsy from the wine and your emotions were just flowing out of you

"I love you negan! And you threw it all away for some fucking teacher at your school!!" You began shoving him

"All you care about is yourself you are so fucking full of yourself...you think you are so fucking amazing!" Now gripping onto his shirt hitting him in the chest he quickly pulled you into a tight hug and you began crying uncontrollably onto his shoulder soaking his tshirt.

"Shhh....im here now i promise you i will do anything..i want to be back in ellies life full time again i miss my girls" negan started to get all choked up holding back tears

"I...i cant right now negan its too soon im still hurting so bad.....im trying to move on from this" wiping the tears away from your eyes

"I understand.....im never going to let you down again all i want is for you and ellie to have a good life even if im not in it"

He stood up pulling you with him he took you to the bedroom and layed you down in bed taking your shoes off for you and tucking you in before jack got back.

"Goodnight" he kisses you on the forehead and leaves

---------

You woke up to ellie jumping and screaming on your bed you looked over to see jack sleeping next to you rubbing at his eyes.

"Good morning beautiful" he leans over and kisses you

"Goodmorning" you chuckled

"Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!" Ellie jumped onto you

"Hi sweetheart mommy sees you" you squeezed her tight in a hug before getting up out of bed

Jack had already gotten up and hopped into the shower when his phone began to ring on his bedside table you eagerly went over and looked at who it was. A girl named Melissa was calling him you just brushed it off and joined him in the shower.

"Hey...." Slipping off your panties and hopping into the shower with him

"Whoa...hey" jack said shocked

You grabbed him by the face and began kissing him hard feeling the hot water stream down your back. He moved his hand down between your legs taking one finger and slowly slipping it inside of you moaning out gripping onto his dick starting to slowly pump it back and forth feeling it grow long in your hand. Before you knew it he flipped you around ramming his cock into you pumping back and forth into your dripping wet pussy. His grip grew tighter on your hip as he started going faster and faster untill you felt an emptyness from him pulling out.

"Im hopping out im gonna let you finish up in here" he slapped your ass and then hopped out and closed the bathroom door behind him

"What a disappointment....." You whispered to yourself as you scrubbed shampoo through your hair knowing that negan would of never left you hanging like that and would of lasted way longer. Turning off the water you coulf faintly here jack laughing and talking to someone over the phone you quickly dried off and opened the bathroom door.

"Who are you speaking to?" You asked slipping on some clothes

"Ohh just a coworker nobody really" he said putting his phone into his pocket and sliding his tie on leaving the room

"Okay then....." You said to yourself

Slipping your shoes on you walked into the kitchen to make yourself a cup of coffee before jack headed off to work. Jack seemed super eager to leave for work today you just brushed it off assuming it was going to be a busy day for him at the office. He kissed you goodbye and took ellie with him to drop her off at daycare. It was just you alone in the house today which meant housework....gross.

You tied your hair up in a bun and began gathering your cleaning supplies you connected your phone to the bluetooth speaker blasting old rock songs. You were down on your hands and knees scrubbing at the floor in your short shorts when you were greeted by two feet infront of your face. You slowly looked up at who it was and it was negan with a huge dirty smirk on his face.

"This all for me doll?" He bit at his lip

"Oh....uh i planned on cleaning house today while everyone was out" you said shyly not realizing you were still on your knees

"I like you down there...on your knees" he slwoly chuckles

"Oh! Sorry....you cant just keep letting yourself in negan..." You quicly shot up to your feet

"You need me to help with anything?" He walks into the kitchen pouring himself a cup of coffee

"Ugh....The grass needs mowed......" You answered while wiping down the living room table

" jack doesnt mow grass?" Negan began laughing

"Negan...dont" standing there with your hands on your hips you sprayed him with the water bottle

"Hey!.....im just saying i figured young business boys couldnt mow grass anyway" negan walked outside and started up the pushmower.

An half and hour has passed and you finally finished the housework inside. You peaked out the window to see negan finishing up yard work...his shirt was off and he was all sweaty then jack suddenly pulls up causing you to stop gawking at negan.

"You always mow peoples grass" jack called out to negan getting out of the car

"Well, today i do. And maybe even next time...your girlfriend asked me to" negans jaw begins to flex

"Oh really...well" jack rubs at the back of his neck annoyed

"Dont think for a second that you have this all figured out......just setting some ground rules" Negan leans in towards jack and sternly says

Jack glared at negan as he walked past him to go insdie the house.

"Hi sweetie!" You greeted jack with a peck on his cheeck before stepping outside to speak with negan.

"I think you need to go...." You softly said to him trying not to stare at his sweaty toned bare chest

"Cmom doll.....things were getting fun. Jack is really starting to take a liking to me" he chuckles sliding his tongue across his bottom lip

"Negan....this isnt a game" you said picking up the gardening tools and taking them to the garage

"But i like games....and i always win" negan said in his cocky voice following behind you

You slammed down the shovel on the work bench in the garage before you knew it negan flipped you around lifted you up and and sat you ontop of the bench crashing his lips into yours he slid in between your legs grabbing a fist full of your hair yanking your head back as he began biting at your neck.

"Negan...." You moaned softly

"God i miss you moaing my name..."

"N....negan stop" it was so hard to resist him

"I want to have another kid with you....i want to fill myself insdie of you.....please baby" he tugged at your hair harder causing you to moan louder

The hairs on the back of your neck shot up after hearing what he had just said to you. You wrapped your legs tight around his waist and pulled him into you kissing him roughly biting and tugging at his bottom lip. You couldnt control yourself your body was weak negan always knew the right things to say. Negan took his two fingers pulling your yoga shorts aside to his surprise you weren't wearing any panties his finger began to play with your now swollen sensitive clit causing you to whimper out. He sucked on his finger making it wet before bringing it back to your clit gently flicking it faster and faster.

"Negan...im gon-

"(Y/n)...are you in here" jack called out from around the corner of the garage

"Oh shit!" You whispered to yourself before hopping off the work bench approaching jack

"Hey...im going to be going out of town on a business trip soon"

"Oh....well how soon?" You asked curiously

"Like...tonight soon" he quickly stated

"Oh...i see" your voice lowered

"I have to go baby i will keep in touch with you!" He kissed you before slow jogging to his car and leaving

A part of you didnt feel good about jack leaving for a "business trip" if thats really what it was.....something seemed off with him like he was hiding something. You stood from the garage watching him drive down the road untill you couldnt see his car anymore.

"Business trip huh....." Negan questioned walking up beside you

"Yeah...i suppose so" you said zoning out

Negan begins to chuckle and walk past you to his car.

"Wait were are you going!?" You yelled out to him

"Have to go pick up our daughter from daycare" negan calls out from the driver side

"Wait up im coming with you!" Jogging up to his black 1969 camero and hopping in the passenger seat

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

You,ellie and negan were back at the house when you were in the bedroom freshening up when you noticed jack had left his laptop on the dresser. Curiously you walked over and popped it open the screen automatically came on to his emails the very top email read from Melissa.

Hey jack we have that meeting tonight dont forget!😊 im also wearing that little tight dress you love.

You read the message over and over again the words ringing in your head making you feel sick to your stomach you slammed the laptop shut your body shaking full of rage and a adrenaline not knowing what to think or how to feel anymore. You just lay back on your bed zoning out up at the ceiling.

The door to the bedroom opens and its negan with a dirty smirk on his face looking at you layed out on the bed you just want to forget everything you want to feel numb you want to be made to feel dirty...

"Hey..." His deep tone giving you goosebumps

"Fuck me.....i want you to fuck me like the slut i am" you sternly said to him

Negan swiftly ripped his shirt off and yanked down your shorts spreading your legs apart bringing his tongue to your pussy licking your sweet folds brining his tongue down to your opening and all the way back up to your clit teasing you. You begin to grind up against his face while he pumps his cock hearing him moan only made you even more wet. He pulls his mouth away and flips you over slapping you on the ass hard the sting of it felt amazing he spanks you agains and a again before he enters his tip inside of you. Gripping onto the the bedsheets you have almost forgotten how big his cock is streching you open to fit perfectly insdie of you.

"Oh fuck.....god its so tight! You dirty fucking whore" he grunts slowly sliding more of his cock into you pulling your head back by your hair

"I miss you....i want you to fuck me hard..." You begin to rub your clit

Negan starts pumping his cock in and out of you his cock slowly swelling up inside of you and you squeeze down on him feeling all it all. He begins to move faster and faster leaning his face down to yours grabbing onto your throat squeezing it to let you feel that perfect high.

"Fuck...i...i cant keep going much longer" he starts fucking you faster and faster

"I want you to cum in me....please..i want your cum inside of me"! You beg

He lets out a load moan as he finishes inside of you and kisses you hard on the lips before pulling out letting his cum pour out of you all over the bedsheets. Negan pulls up his jeans as he hands you a towel to clean yourself up. You havent felt that amazing in awhile so relaxed and burnt off some built up rage

"All you have to do is ask and im here...." He whispers to you before leaving the room to go check on ellie. You get up from the bed to go take a shower.

"What am i doing......." You say to yourself

"Im so fucking stupid...." You begin to cry and sit with your knees pulled up to your chest in the tub feeling like a peice of shit after what you had just done. You are playing with negans emotions and stabbing jack in the back...what kind of girlfriend and mother am i.

[tiesandtea]

Simon Gilbert

Simon Says

We interviewed Simon Gilbert, Suede’s drummer, whose book So Young: Suede 1991-1993 is a journal and photographic document of the band’s early years that will be published October 8th. So Young has foreword by journalist Stuart Maconie and a vibrant, lively text by Simon himself, documenting his move from Stratford-on-Avon, his hometown, to London, the audition with Suede, life in the van, the early success years and the many amusing things that come with it. It is one of those rare books that make an outsider feel like they were there, in the van. Or in absurd mansions in L.A. belonging to industry types. Or was it record producer(s)?…

The conversation extended to Coming Up, Suede’s third album that turned 25 this year and drumming. Simon’s witty, often, one-liners contrast with my more elaborate questions, proving an interesting insight into our way of writing/replying.

by Raquel Pinheiro

So Young: Suede 1991-1993

What made you want to realease So Young?

I was searching through my archives when researching for the insatiable ones movies and found lots of old negatives and my diaries. They had to be seen.

When and why did you start your Suede archives?

As you can see from the book, it stared from the very first audition day.

From the concept idea to publishing how long did it took you to put So Young together?

30 years … I’ve always wanted to make a book since I was first in a band.

What was your selection process for which items – diary entries, photos, etc.- would be part of the book?

I wanted to form a story visually with a few bits of info thrown in here and there, also most of the photos tie in with pages from the diaries.

Which methods, storage, preservation, maintenance, if at all, do you employ to keep the various materials in your archives in good shape?

Boxes in an attic … one thing about getting the book out is that I don’t have to worry about the photos getting lost forever. It’s out there in a book!

Other than medium what differences existed between selecting material for The Insatiable Ones documentary and for So Young?

Video and photos … photos don’t translate well on a TV screen.

Do you prefer still or motion pictures and why?

I prefer photos … they capture a particular moment in time … as video does, but there’s a unique atmosphere with a photo.

So Young’s cover photo has a very Caravaggio and ballet feeling to it. Its chiaroscuro also contrasts with the images inside.  Why did you choose it for the cover?

It was a striking shot and I wanted the book to be black and dark …it fitted perfectly.

How many of the photos on So Young were taken by you?

Probably about 3/4 my 3 school friends who were there with me at the beginning Iain, Kathy and Phillip took a load of us onstage, backstage, after  the gig, etc., photos I couldn’t take myself.

So Young can be placed alongside books like Henry Rollins’ Get in The Van and Michael Azerrad’s Our Band Could Be Your Life, that not only chronicle and show the less glamorous, more mundane side of being in a band, but also totally immerse the reader so deep in it that we are there, feeling and going through the same things. Was your selection of materials meant to convey that “band being your(our) life” sensation?

Yes, exactly that. I was fascinated by photos of bands, not on the front cover of a magazine or on TV. The other bits of being in a band are far more interesting.

In the foreword, Stuart Maconie mentions the brevity of your diary entries which, as someone who keeps diaries, I immediately noticed. Do you prefer to tell and record a story and events with images?

I haven’t kept a diary since the end of 1993 … looking back on them they can be a bit cringeful … So, yes, I prefer images.

Contrasting with the diary entries brevity your text  that accompanies So Young is lively, witty, detailed and a good description of the struggles of a coming of age, heading towards success, band. Do you think the text and images reveal too much into what it really is like being in a band, destroying the myth a bit?

I think the myth of being in a band is long gone … Reality is the new myth…

In So Young you write that when you first heard Never Mind The Bollocks by The Sex Pistols music was to be your “future dream”. How has the dream been so far?

Still dreaming … lose your dreams and you will lose your mind … like Jagger said.

Is there a reason why So Young only runs from 1991 to 1993?

Yes, I bought a video camera in 1993. It was so much easier filming everything rather than take a photo, wait 3 weeks to get it developed and find out it was blurred.

So Young has a limited deluxe numbered and signed edition already sold out. The non deluxe edition also seems to be heading the same way. How important is it for you to keep a close relationship with the fans?

So important. I love interacting with the fans and is so easy these days … I had to write replies by hand and post them out in 1993…

Playing Live Again & Coming Up

Before Suede’s concert at Qstock Festival in Oulu, Finland on 31.07.2021 you wrote on your social media “cant fucking wait dosnt come close!!!!!” and Mat [Osman, Suede’s bassist] on his “An honest-to-goodness rehearsal for an honest-to-goodness show. Finally”. How did it feel like going back to play live?

It was great. Heathrow was empty which was amazing. A bit strange to play for the first time after 2 years …., but great to get out again.

Coming Up was released 25 years ago. How does the record sound and seems to you now compared with by then?

I haven’t listened to it for a long time actually … love playing that album live … some great drumming.

Before the release of Coming Up fans and the press were wondering if Suede would be able to pull it off. What was your reaction when you first heard the new songs and realize the album was going in quite a different direction than Dog Man Star?

Far too long ago to remember.

Coming Up become a classic album. It even has its own Classical Albums documentary. Could you see the album becoming a classic by then?

I think so yes .. there was always something to me very special about that album.

Is it different to play Coming Up songs after Suede’s return? Is there a special approach to concerts in which a single album is played?

No … didn’t even need to listen to the songs before we first rehearsed … They’re lodged in my brain.

Which is your Coming Up era favourite song as a listener and which one do you prefer as a drummer?

The Chemistry Between Us.

Will the Coming Up shows consist only of the album or will B-sides be played as well?

Definitely some B-sides and some other stuff too.

Simon & Drumming

If you weren’t a drummer how would your version of “being the bloke singing at the front” be like?

Damned awful … I auditioned as a singer once, before I started drumming … It was awful!

In his book Stephen Morris says that all it takes to be a drummer is a flat surface and know how to count. Do you agree?

No.

Then, what makes a good drummer?

Being in the right band.

Topper Headon of the Clash is one of your role models. Who are the others?

He is, yes … fantastic drummer.

Charlie Watts is the other great …and Rat Scabies … superb.

She opens with drums so does Introducing the band. Your drumming gives the band a distinctive sound. How integral to Suede’s sound are the drums?

Well, what can I say … VERY!

Do you prefer songs that are driven by the drums or songs in which the drums are more in the background?

Bit of both actually … I love in your face stuff like She, Filmstar …, but ikewise, playing softer stuff is very satisfying too.

You’re not a songwriter. How much freedom and input do you have regarding drum parts?

If the songs needs it, I’ll change it.

Do you prefer blankets, towels or a pillow inside the bass drum?

Pillows.

Do you use gaffer tape when recording? If so, just on the snare drum or also on the toms? What about live?

Lots of the stuff … gaffer tape has been my friend both live and in the studio for 30 years.

What is the depth of your standard snare drum and why?

Just got a lovely 7-inch Bog wood snare from Repercussion Drums … sounds amazing. It is a 5000 year old Bog wood snare.

Standard, mallets, rods or brushes?

Standard. I hate mallets and rods are always breaking after one song. Brushes are the worst …no control.

How many drum kits have you owned? Of those, which is your favourite?

5 … my fave is my DW purple.

How long to you manage without playing? Do you play air drums?

7 years 2003 – 2010 … and never.

Can you still assemble and tune your drum kit?

Assemble, yes …tune no …have never been any good at that.

You dislike digital/electronic drum kits, but used one during the pandemic. Did you become more found of them?

Still hate them … unfortunately,  they are a necessary evil.

When you first joined Suede you replaced a drum machine. Would it be fair to say you didn’t mind taking its job?

Fuck him!

Brett [Anderson, Suede’s singer] as described the new album as “nasty, brutish and short”. How does that translates drums wise?

Very nasty brutish and short.

When researching for the interview I come across the statement below on a forum: “If you’re in a band and you’re thinking about how to go about this, get every player to come up with their own track list & have a listening party. I’ve done this, not only is it great fun, it’s also massively insightful when it comes to finding out what actually is going on inside the drummer’s head!”. What actually is going on inside the drummer’s head?

Where’s my fucking lighter!

And what is going on inside the drummer as a documentarist head? How does Simon, the drummer, differs from Simon, the keen observer of his own band, bandmates, fans, himself, etc.?

There is no difference … I’m Simon here there and everywhere…

What would the 16 years old Simon who come to London think of current Simon? What advice would you give to your younger self?

Don’t smoke so much you fool!

[sabraeal]

Get Up Eight, Chapter 8

[Read on AO3]

Obiyukiweek 2021, Day 1: The Fool Upright: Beginnings, Innocence, Fearlessness Reversed: Recklessness, Folly, Risk 

Pine presses around the road to Oiso, jostling with the hackberry like meddling neighbors, eager to see misfortune. Their branches chatter in the breeze, gossiping behind needled hands, and oh, what misfortune Obi has for them to gnaw their toothy mouths upon, traveling with this sorry lot.

This stretch of road is meant to be the shortest; less than the length between bells, but each minute sweats to an hour, the natural flow of time no longer a given but a whim. Maybe they met with some accident, doomed to wander the same stretch of barren road over and over until some monk came to exorcise them-- or else all the priests are wrong, and the road to Meido is no mountainous path, but a road that winds around one barely deserving of the name. And with them but a day into their journey--

No. Not even he can believe such a story. For no matter how red his hands or black his spirit, he could not have earned such miserable oni on his chuuin as the monkey and his merry band. Besides, there is too much light here. Even the virtuous must navigate the dark with but a candle’s light to guide them, lit by the ones they left in life, and he, well--

He wouldn’t even have that.

Ojou-san hobbles in front of him, pretending her mincing steps have to do with the wrap of her kimono rather than the bindings on her feet. A creditable trick, in the right hands-- too bad his mistress was no actress. A man would have to be worse than a fool to believe it.

With every limping step, she jingles; her pack clanking against the swell of her hip. A wounded deer, gingerly testing each spindly leg to see if it would bear her yet another breath further. The monkey’s men circle her like crows waiting for carrion, though the scent they follow is not death but gold.

Idiots, every last one of them. They are too busy salivating over the meal in her pack to notice she does not tremble as she walks, that even if each step is a labor, she does not shy from taking it. Lame deer she may be, but Obi is not fooled-- more than once he has stopped at the shine at Nara, and found his netsuke noticeably lighter. His mistress is like that; so tame and docile at first glance that no one watches where those small hands go, nor notices the lies that tip from her lips.

Because they do; not with the ease of a practiced liar, but the earnest determination of a survivor. Cousin there may be in Kyoto, but Obi would bet what remains of his ryo that he didn’t know about the books in her pack. A good little ojou-san might know some remedies-- a salve to stave off infection or a powder to quell a fever, the kind a mother would use to treat her child-- but they certainly didn’t read about rampo in the original Dutch.

No, if Obi had his guess, this cousin-dono knew nothing about the sweet visitor that traveled toward him. They’d arrive at his doorstep in Kyoto, and he’d have the same view he has now, standing three respectful steps behind her as she faces the future with a strong back, and standing on two--

Ojou-san stumbles. One moment she is upright, and the next he’s surged forward, hand clasped around an elbow to steady her. It’s just like her wrist; narrow and delicate, like it might break under his grasp. His breath catches, his eyes meeting her wide ones--

“Careful, ‘Nee-san.”

Obi blinks, and there it is-- the monkey’s mocking grin, one paw wrapped around her other arm. “It’d be easy to turn an ankle on these old roads.”

Every word cants with careful concern, but the glint in his eye is three hairs away from anything more than hunger. This ronin can pretend to be samurai all he likes, but desperation drips from him like water in a kappa’s dish, and it’s Obi’s job to see his ojou-san does not get soaked.

With a firm tug, Obi settles her on her feet-- and out of the monkey’s reach. “Don’t worry, we’ll reach Oiso-juku soon, Ojou-san.”

She sends one of her thoughtful looks down the road, brow furrowed and lip jutting in a pout. “They really aren’t all that far apart at all, are they? If we hadn’t been slowed by--” my blistered feet, she doesn’t say, jaw taking an even more determined set-- “circumstance, we would be there by now.”

Obi nods, watching as she takes a single, mincing step. “Shortest leg of the journey.”

“I wonder why that is.” In any other mouth, those words would be idle, a way to fill the air. But not in his ojou-san’s; oh no, her gaze has already sharpened, scouring the shrubbery as if it might hold answers.

“Hard to say.” Keeping pace with her is a trial; he’s used to long strides, using every last inch of his leg to put ri between him and what he left behind, but between her blisters and her curiosity, Ojou-san moves as slow as a snail’s crawl. “If I had a guess, it would be the mountain?”

“Mountain?” Ojou-san should be hiding those eye of hers with a convincing demure, but instead she turns them to him, wide and wondrous. Not that he’d be caught complaining, not when all her attention is bent on him, as if he’s her next puzzle to solve.

The monkey scoffs, insinuating himself a branch too close for comfort. “Mount Koma? It’s barely more than a hill, and we’re walking around it, not up.”

Obi’s lips peel back from his teeth, a wolf’s grin. “I never said we were. But if you look down the road from Hiratsuka, what would you see?”

“A mountain,” Ojou-san murmurs, sending a speculative glance toward where Koma rose beside them. “And if you do not often travel the road, it would be easy to mistake this for running through it.”

“Well said, Ojou-san. Hakone is nearby, too.” Obi lets his lips soften from animal to man. “And its reputation marks it as the hardest climb. Even a thinking man might take this stretch as much the same.”

“Absurd.” The monkey scowls, hands hooking over his hips. “That might explain the shukuba at Oiso, but on the other side they would know the road’s ease.”

“That’s the funny thing about roads.” He casts the monkey a cagey smile, enjoying the way his fur stands on end. “They run both ways.”

The pines thin as they walk, the air taking on its first taste of salt, so thick and stinging that a man doesn’t even need to be Ojou-san’s kind of polite to think so. Oiso is close then; its bay must be the scent of the sea on the breeze. Good. He’ll be glad of the chance to shuck himself of their escort and his easy manners.

A bridge crests ahead of them, little more than some boards patched over the sluggish stream that runs beneath. Nothing like the great wooden arcs in Edo, made for palanquins to pass, great processions crawling over both sides like ships passing in the night. So it’s no surprise Ojou-san falters at its edge, blinking down at the lazy waters below. A deer again, hesitant and shy.

A warmth kindles where his kimono gaps too much to cover, a tightness that he cannot swallow away. Obi raises a hand to scratch, coughs to clear it, but stubbornly it stays, lodged right in his breast. An inconvenience, one that should be smothered as a seed rather than allowed to grow like kudzu on the shore. Ojou-san paid for his skill and what loyalty gold could buy, not...this. She is his duty, not a pleasure.

Even if he sees that bead dripping down her back when he closes his eyes still. Obi grips at his shoulder and stifles a groan. Twenty days. Three weeks until he is six ryo richer, and this girl is in the hands of her cousin instead of dancing out of the grip of his.

He steps up, hand outstretched. It’s his job to see her over, safe and sound, and it would be just like her to bend over a hair too far and let herself be swept away by the current, small as it is. But his hand clasps around air instead of elbow, and when he looks--

The monkey has her, guiding her along at a leisurely stroll. She stumbles to keep up even still, only getting her feet beneath her when he stops, staring up at the maples swaying overhead.

“Known to me who had denied joy and sorrow of this world,” he intones, every syllable rolling with the cultured tones of Edo. “Is the autumn scene of the rivulet where sandpipers walk at dusk.”

Obi lifts a brow, peering down at the water’s edge. Salt might be on the air, but there’s not a sandpiper to be seen this far from the shore.

Ojou-san is too kind, as always, nearly turning those wide doe eyes to him before remembering herself. They skitter downwards instead, to where leaves skim the stream’s surface. “What is that?”

The monkey’s heavenly gaze drops to her, smiling within unearned satisfaction. “I’m surprised you don’t know, onee-san. I thought you well read.”

Ojou-san stiffens, hands curling over the rough-hewn rail. “Well enough. Though I must admit, I never spent much time on poets.”

His eyes blink wide. “Not even Saigyo?”

“No.” She ducks her chin, the very picture of a demure young lady, but Obi knows-- her rosy cheeks are not from a docile temper. “But he was...a monk, was he not?”

His mouth curls wide, the self-satisfied smile of a master with a well-taught pupil. Obi’s hands itch watching it unfurl, tempted to give monkey-sensei a lesson he won’t soon forget.

“Yes,” he hums, chin lifted with a lord’s poise. “Of the Heian era. The story goes that he used to be one of the Emperor’s personal guards, but one day he shed himself of his worldly desires to dedicate himself to the temple.”

Obi stifles a snort. He’s had clients that made him feel the same more than once.

“He lived here, after, in a little hut just upstream, hidden away from the world, writing waka, meditating on the loneliness of change.” The monkey stares down the length of the stream. “A haikai dojo stands there now, built hundred of years later in his honor. Even Basho was inspired by his writings...”

Obi peers over the bridge’s edge, letting the monkey’s babble roll over him like a ceaseless river. The stream does much the same below, curving gently into the distance, disappearing into a cloud of summer green maple. Even with his sharp eyes, he cannot see this dojo, nor any hut where a monk might sit and spend his life thinking in verse.

Probably because Shigitatsu-an sits on another rivulet entirely, further toward the sea. Something this monkey might know, if he traveled this road; the stone in the middle of town proclaims it, bright as day. Still, Obi holds his tongue. A dagger to the chest might miss, but given enough rope, an idiot always hangs himself.

“For all his shedding of worldly trappings,” Obi hums, sauntering up to where the pair of them stand, “looks like this Saigyo was fond of them.”

Sweet as his words were, the monkey’s mouth turns sour fast enough. “He lived his life in quiet contemplation of nature, dwelling upon the sadness of seasons passing--”

Obi lifts an infuriating eyebrow. “Which he couldn’t do at a temple?”

The monkey’s mouth opens, then closes. “Some people,” he sniff haughtily, “do not understand the artistic process.”

Thatched roofs peek above the shukuba’s gates as they round the bend, hazy in the distance, like close-clinging clouds above Sagami Bay. Salt coats Obi’s mouth as they tread closer, stinging his nose, but today the taste savors of relief-- only mere moments now until Ojou-san can take her rest, and he can shuck these unwanted pests.

The monkey strolls beside Ojou-san, his voice smugly pitched for all to hear: “It’s too bad it isn’t raining.”

Oh, the hour cannot come soon enough. “Really?” Obi slides an easy grin onto his face. “I didn’t think monkeys liked to get their feet wet.”

“M-monkey?!” If looks could smell, the one this Mihaya levels at him would reek; growing even more rank with every giggle Ojou-san stifles. “Funny words coming from a stray cat!”

Obi shrugs, a production of shoulder and head worthy of the stage. “It was not my lips that begged the kami for rains.”

“Not mine either!” The monkey turns to Ojou-san with his mild, scholar stare. “I only meant it would be fitting. Hiroshige drew rains when he made his print of Oiso, falling on the travelers as they entered the shukuba. A light drizzle, of course, nothing to get--” he cuts a pointed glare over his shoulder-- “any paws wet.”

“Ah!” Ojou-san brightens, fingers fluttering joyfully before her. “I have seen that. Ojii-san...”

It’s as if the name were a spell; invoked, it steals the words from her lips, leaving only air to part them. They round again, forming the shape of ojii-san, before pressing tight once more. Obi has only known her mere days, but her grandfather’s legacy seems only to be the knuckles that blanch around her bag’s strap at the barest mention of his name.

A subtlety lost on the monkey prancing next to her. “He called it Tora’s Rain, after the lover of Soga no Juro. Do you know that story, onee-san?”

Obi restrains a roll of his eyes; it’s more of an effort than any of the monkey’s men bother to make. There’s not a child alive who isn’t raised upon the Soga Monogatari, even if the details blend in the telling, each domain vying to put their stamp upon a piece of history.

“Ah...” Ojou-san blinks, her spell disappearing in the bat of an eye. “Oiso no Tora, you mean? The courtesan?”

Again, the monkey-sensei puffs with a teacher’s pride. “The very same. She was raised here, it’s said, after her father prayed to Benzaiten for a child, and she gave to him a stone--”

“He asked for a child and she gave him a stone?” Obi smothers a smile to a twitch. “Seems he got the better end of the bargain.”

“--And she gave to him a stone as a sign the child would be born,” the monkey continues, voice pitched above his. “As O-Tora grew, so did the stone. When the Soga brothers sheltered at her home, it shielded them from--”

“Is this before or after they ambushed a man in his sleep?” Obi asks, deadpan.

That is, it seems, the final straw. The idiot rounds on him, voice dropping into a growl as common as the gutter he grew up in. “A tyrant, for revenge. Kuto-sama murdered their father and took his lands. No honorable man-- no, no bushi-- could let such an insult stand.” Something dark moves beneath the eyes of monkey-dono when he adds, “even if it took years.”

With only a breath, his face smooths back into the scholar’s, the samurai’s learned son. “That rock is still here, should you want to see it.”

Ojou-san smiles, eyes soft with understanding. “You must like this story quite a bit, Mihaya-dono, if you want to see O-Tora’s stone.”

“Me?” His brows raise, two neat little arches. They’re meant to be surprised, but it’s almost as if the angle of them is wrong, a degree off from being sincere. “I meant for you, onee-san. It’s a talisman for fertility.”

Her eyes round. “Oh--!”

“After all, you are now on the way to your husband.” There is a razor’s edge to his smile when he says, “Surely he is looking forward to being so blessed.”

Not unless her cousin has plans for her that he hasn’t seen fit to inform her of. Not an unlikely, knowing the way men think of their women-- though the idea has never occurred to Ojou-san, by the way she gapes.

“Ah!” She glances back at him, helpless. “N-no. That definitely won’t be...necessary.”

Another shadow passes over the monkey’s face, leaving behind a grin that glints as cold as coin. “You don’t say, onee-san...”

Ojou-san tucks into his side as they pass through the sekisho, her head and heart bowed demurely while the doshin glance at her papers. It’s cursory; this is no Hakone to demand papers so spotless they gleam. Still, she shivers when Kino’s permissions leave his hands, and doesn’t stop until they’re tucked back into his sleeves.

The monkey casts her a speculative look when he strolls through, the kind he’s been giving her more and more of as the day wears on. That’s fine enough; he can ponder Ojou-san’s mystery while he and his men wander down the rest of the route, alone.

That brings a smile to Obi’s lips. “Well, we’ll be leaving first.”

The wide eyes monkey-dono turn to him are only rivaled by the ones his ojou-san does. “Obi-dono, what do you mean?”

“We’re stopping here for the night.” He jerks his chin toward a particularly clean looking hatago. “How about that one, Ojou-san? Does it meet your expectations?”

“Yes, b-but...” Her mouth works, searching for the shape of the words that rattle between her teeth. “But why?”

“Ojou-san...” His gaze drops to where her tabi peek out from beneath her kimono’s hem, pink with her blood even through the bandages. “You’re in no condition to continue. Our best course is to rest. But I’m sure--” he can’t help the smug sneer he turns the monkey’s way-- “these men are eager to make good time. It’s a long journey to the capital, and time is money.”

The monkey’s mouth purses, trapped. Unless he wants to admit that he has no business besides following Ojou-san and her purse, making a lie of his casual coincidence-- well, there is no way to graciously decline.

Lucky for him, Ojou-san spares him the footwork. “We’ve barely walked an hour since Hiratsuka.” Her shoulders set like a shogun bent on battle. “You said you wanted to reach Odawara tonight.”

He inhales sharply, annoyed. “That was before--” we collected men better left in the gutter.

True as it is, it will not please his ojou-san. Not when she is so determined to see samurai in every ronin she meets. A different tack is needed if he wants to convince her.

“Ojou-san,” he soothes. “There is no shame in stopping. You should take care of yourself, or else we will have to spend more time waiting for you to recover later.”

The set of her jaw informed him this is not it.

“I can make it,” she insists, because of course she would, this young woman of quality who carried her heaviest pack on her back. “I won’t be the one to slow us down.”

“Plenty of travelers stop at every station.” He gestures to the crowd around them, to their leisurely pace. “Perhaps we should consider it, if--”

“And spend fifty-three days to get to Kyoto?” She arches a brow, a reflection of his own. “I’m not paying you near enough for that, Obi-dono.”

His jaw clenches. He only needs to convince her of one night extra, enough to be rid of these knives at their throat, but... “Ojou-san...”

“I don’t mean to pry,” the monkey says, insinuating himself between them. “But there is plenty of daylight left. If jou-chan wants to move on we should. There are better places to rest, if she needs it.” His teeth flash as he suggests, “Hakone, for one. It’s said that their hot springs are healing indeed.”

“Ah, see?” Ojou-san brightens, a quelling hand laid on his sleeve. “Hot springs! That seems like a fine place to take an extra day.”

Obi glares as the monkey hops around behind her, too elated for him to trust. “I don’t think--”

“And it’s better to travel in groups,” the monkey offers, pressing his advantage. “Six people is certainly safer than two.”

Obi frowns. “That depends on who the other four are.”

“It’s decided then,” Ojou-san says brightly, hands clapping together. “We’ll push on to Odawara. And when we reach Hakone, we can rest as long as you like.”

Obi takes in a deep breath, boiling as the monkey grins at him, triumphant. “If that’s what you want, Ojou-san.”

“You heard jou-chan,” the monkey mutters as he prances past, victorious. “It is.”

[what-the--curtains]

In a Week

Part 3/4 - Snowballs and cigarettes

(Frankie Morales x f!reader)

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Summary: The snows finally stopped and its about time you got to work unburying your car. With your friends all prompting you to move on from your toxic ex you find yourself becoming more and more aware of the kind of person you’d want to be with. And how Frankie was ticking all those boxes.

Authors notes: Ugh okay I was over the max block text so the finale is split into two parts!! But you get them both tonight💕🌻💕 .

Warnings: mentions of toxic relationships, allusions to sex (nothing depicted), PTSD, smoking, drinking, swearing

Tagged: @agingerindenial @icanbeyourjedi

Word count: 4.0k

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

Day 4

It had only been three days but you had found yourself in a routine that you hoped you never fell out of. Each morning he’d wake up first and you’d be predictably wrapped around him for another 2 hours or so. He found it hard to believe you were able to wake up before 10am, let alone that you were up at 5am most days but he’d love to be around to see it happen. For the first time, he saw something he’d long given up on. A future with someone else ingrained into his and his daughters life. Maybe it was stupid feeling this way after a few days, but he was old enough to know when he felt a real connection, and he’d never felt as good as he did when he was with you. He would make his feelings known to you, one way or another, he’d regret it forever if he let you slip through his fingers. He just had to find the right time to do it. It had been a long time since you’d woken up with someone in the same bed as you and even longer since the person was someone who made you feel safe and secure. There was something calming about knowing that even if you pushed your freezing cold feet between his calves in the middle of the night he wouldn’t get angry, or push you off he’d just grumble and pull you closer.

It sounded pathetic but it was the nicest a guy had been to you in years. You knew how stupid it was to catch feelings this fast, and it definitely wasn’t like you to feel such strong emotions. Since the funeral you had actively decided to forego them although. This benefited your work, helped you in your field, made you a better doctor, but keeping all your emotions bottled up took its toll. Primarily on your love life. You’d had your fair share of flings with other residents, nurses, friends of friends, but between classes and shift work there wasn’t time. Plus what was the point when you had no idea where you’d be moved to. At least that’s what you told yourself. Then Jonathan came along and you’d let him in, let him know you and you fell for him in the process. Then he’d started dating someone else, told you he didn't realize you were exclusive, and it shattered you completely. You’d pieced yourself back together and once you were better, once you were finally over him, he’d cycle back round to you, determined to keep you on retainer. The whole ordeal had left you tired. You’d never had a real relationship and you were already done with them. You never understood how people would want to live with someone for the rest of their lives until now. Catching feelings had always happened in periphery to your life making it easy to push by a crush by simply avoiding them, but you couldn’t avoid Frankie. Each day you spent trapped inside with him he’d continued to grow on you, cementing your feelings for him tenfold. You yawn and stretch your leg out over Frankies torso propping yourself up onto your elbow so you can reach over him and grab the glass of water on the nightstand. He exhales as if your movement across him is an inconvenience to his meticulous strategy for winning whatever game he was playing on his phone. You take a sip and put the cup back down, rolling off the bed and opening the curtains.

“Hey!” you shout, causing Frankies head to shoot over to you, “It stopped snowing!” you exclaim, gazing out over the parking lot where the snow had fallen. The powder undulating overtop the cars buried beneath it. You stretch your arms up catching an unsavoury whiff coming from your armpits causing you to pull a face. Turning around just in time to see Frankie laughing from the bathroom door.

“Seriously man? Do you have to beat me to everything!” you pout, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Gotta be faster sweetheart.” he says, closing the door behind him. From anyone else the term would have driven you into a rage induced frenzy, but it was endearing not condescending coming from him. You take the time to call Stella, you’d been texting with her since you got stuck but you felt it was time to officially announce your arrival as permanently cancelled.

“Hey girl”

“Hey babe what's going on? You calling with good or bad news?” she asks, a constant bustle evident in the background.

“Don’t shoot the messenger, but only bad news on my end. I am so fucking sorry, I should have just flown down like you said” you offer, leaning back against the window allowing the chill of the outside to cool you off.

“Well this is why you should always listen to me, but i’ll forgive you just this once.” she laughs.

“God I can’t believe the one wedding I actually care about I’m going to miss!” you exasperated, shifting away from the window and flopping down onto the bed.

“Well I definitely won’t miss you, especially considering you’ve already sent a gift.” she teases.

“How, very dare you” you punctuate.

“Yup long con paid off, 10 years I pretended to like you just to get you to buy me a toaster from ebay” Stella laughs.

“You could have just stolen mine after the first year, then you could have had me gone!” you state.

“Ugh a huge mistake!!” she overemphasizes dramatically, causing you both to burst out laughing.

“So….” you say after your giggles subside leaving a gentle ache in your ribs that always occurred when you talked to Stella.

“What?” she asks, sniffling.

“ Did John make it out there?” you ask, in a painfully transparent way.

“Why?” she spits, her tone suddenly lethal. She hated the guy, she was the one who was always left dealing with you after he’d used you up, helping to piece you back together, just in time for him to get a hold on you again.

“He asked about me?” you query, once again failing to convey your intentions.

“I’m not indulging this anymore, it's bad for you. He’s bad for you, there's only so many times I can watch him emotionally manipulate you” she rants.

“Ya, but it's easy and it's so good with him.” you emphasize.

“It’s not easy, take it from someone in an easy relationship, it's not supposed to hurt that much.” she chides, determined to have you see the light.

“But..”

“Nope, I'm drawing the line for you, find someone else. You’re a gorgeous single doctor,

“Almost doctor” you interrupt, but the statement is ignored.

“Aren’t you currently shacked up with one of my stupid brothers friends?”

“Yes? And?” you say, your heart suddenly beating faster as your head turns to see Frankies hat on the nightstand.

“Frankie right? Statue like, soft curls, kind, deep brown eyes? And don’t pretend like you didn’t notice I know you like the back of my hand!”

“So what if I have, doesn't mean..” you whisper, not wanting him to hear you.

“Nope, don’t sell yourself short, I say get cozy with him and finally move on from dickhead McGee, even if it's just for a night, cleanse the palette. Besides, you know he’ll be doing whoever looks his way at my wedding.” you hear a muffled shout “alright I have to go, something about the bridesmaids fighting.”

“Your sisters? Fighting? Who could have seen that coming” you deadpan.

“I know, god I wish you were here.”

“I wish I was as well i'll call tomorrow in case you get cold feet, I have a five point plan”

“I won't” she chimes.

“ I know because you love her”

“And I also love you” she says

“And I love you” you respond before hanging up. Not even a minute after hanging up you get a call from Santiago

“Hey, I just wanted to verbally apologize for trapping you with ‘Fish, though he's definitely one of the better ones to get stuck with.” he says.

“Well that’s good to know” you laugh, rolling your eyes.

“He hasn’t tried anything has he? If he has I'll kill him, and get away with it, you'll have to help me with the body but...” Santiago starts.

“Santi, it's fine he's cool, really sweet, actually,” you offer heat rushing to your face for some unknown reason.

“Good. He touches you ill..” he warns.

“You’ll kill him ya I got it!” you snap, you understood why Santiago felt like he had to play big brother for you but sometimes he was a touch overbearing. “Is John there?” you try and ask casually, failing to head Stellas advice.

“Don’t...” Santi starts, you can practically hear his jaw clench over the phone “you know if I see him tonight i'm gonna knock him out for how he treats you”

“It wasn’t that bad.” you whisper.

“It was, still is, I heard him bragging about how if worse comes to worse he always has his plan D,” he offers, not to hurt you but to try and free you from the cycle.

“That dick. You know what Stellas right, fuck him!” you exclaim with a newfound determination to rid him from your life.

“Oh my god, are you finally seeing the light?” Santi asks “Praise the lord!” He shouts up into the sky.

“Ya I guess so” you say staring at Frankie as he dries his hair with the towel. “I gotta go, see you soon.”

“Not soon enough” he laughs as you hang up.

“Whose that?” Frankie asks, still curious about who you’d been hoping to see at the wedding and what they’d done to earn your affection.

“Pope!” you say with a smile, pushing your back off the bed and sitting up.

“Threatening to kill me?” Frankie predicts.

“Ya we have a plan” you murmur.

“We?” he asks, a twinkle in his eye and his mouth upturned at the sides.

“Well he'll kill you but, I cant have him go to jail so i'll have to hide your body.” you explain

“Good glad that got sorted” he says, his smile now in full effect.

“I'll go grab some breakfast” you say.

“No ill get it, you’re always getting it, plus gives you time to shower, I can smell you from here.” He prods, grabbing the key.

“Rude!” you yell out after him.

He's back when you exit the shower

“Oh thank you, you say grabbing the plate form him”

“Just what the doctor ordered, hey?” he asks, smiling stupidly big.

“Ouuuf that that was bad truly apologize to me” He laughs at how serious your face gets “You're laughing? I had to listen to that joke and you're laughing?” you say through a mouthful of eggs. “Here's something that'll wipe that stupid smile off your face, snow stops which means we have to clear off my car.”

“Using the royal we are we?” he asks

“Think of it as repayment for the pun,” you say waving your fork in his face

“How will we be clearing it off?” he asks, leaning over the counter.

“Brush” you say, as if it's obvious

“Where's the brush?” he asks, resting his chin on the back of his hands and smiling sweetly at you, waiting for an answer.

“In the….oh” you say, face dropping when you realize that the brush was in the car currently buried under a snow pile.

“Not so smart now” he laughs pushing back off the counter taking your empty plate with him, washing it up for you.

“Well I guess we just have to get to the door with our hands then” you say smiling.

“Once again, about this we,” he says, drying his hands on the dish towel, turning to see a dramatic pout plastered across your face.

“Fine, I'll only help because I think you may disappear in the snow if you go in alone” he responds, the truth was, he couldn't deny you.

You both get dressed into the most winter proof clothes you had, neither of you having packed for a snowy expedition. As you exit the room you see him grab a pack of cigarettes he’d been hiding, not wanting you to see his worst traits.

“Those will kill you, you know,” you say, causing him to roll his eyes dramatically.

“Okay mom” he laughs grabbing the lighter despite your disapproving glare,

“You have a daughter to think about” you say, feeling like you'd be letting your profession down by giving up so easily.

“It's why I smoke, the safest way to calm the nerves while staying clean” he murmurs with a look on his face that is enough to get you to drop it for now. You weren't about to pry into his struggle with addiction and you certainly weren’t one to judge, you’d faced similar issues after your brothers passing.

“I used to smoke,” you confess as the elevator doors close in front of you both.

“Seriously?” he remarks, not able to believe it.

“Pack a week for about a year” you say, slowly nodding your head as the two of you walk through the foyer towards the parking lot.

“You quit?” He asks, impressed.

“Ya I don’t think it was long enough to form a habit. When did you start?” you offer as you move your legs through the snow, it was dense your legs would be sore tomorrow.

“What? Are you gonna assess the state of my lungs?” Frankie laughs, moving easily through the snow you were struggling so hard against.

“Yes, but i'll only tell you the results if you want to know”

“Few years back, after...” he stops himself before confessing the worst thing that ever happened in his life.

“The mission” you finish for him, remembering how Pope had picked up similar habits once he finally returned home. “You were there with Santi?” you question

“He told you about it?” he asks, sterner than you’d seen him before, he was afraid that you knew what a monster he was. You shake your head, no and he thanks the gods. “You think i'm going to?” He queries lighting up a cigarette and taking a drag, making sure not to blow it out anywhere near you.

“I don’t know, maybe. It’s the one thing he wont tell me about, figured it would be easier for you if you were talking to a stranger about it.”

“Not much of a stranger now” he laughs, but there was something behind his eyes, a similar sadness that you saw with Santi when he talked about it. Your thoughts are interrupted when something cold hits you in the face, your mouth drops open, your forehead scrunches in disbelief.

“Shit, I wasn’t aiming for your face I swear!” he looks up panicked

“I guess it's what I get for asking so many questions” you say, hand still over your face playing into it as you formulate your attack.

“No, oh my god! No! It wasn't because of that, let me see” he says, you let your hands drop and you smile wickedly up at him. Before he has time to react, you rub a handful of snow into his face.

“Oh... you're gonna pay for that.” he draws out, wiping the snow from his face.

After 15 minutes of all out war, and a brief truce that was to be officially signed once back inside you managed to get to the door handle and lean into the back seat grabbing out the brush. You offer it to Frankie, but he's already started clearing off the rest of the car with his arms.

“Hey can you grab my spare charger out of the compartment there?” you say cleaning off the trunk, the front doors now accessible.

“Ya, holy shit is this a knife?” he asks, pulling out a knife.

“Maybe.” You say staring into his eyes as his mouth hangs open in amusement. “For safety, I didn't know who I'd be driving up with! You coulda been a murderer” you explain palms up.

“And you were planning on what? shanking me?” he laughs a huge smile on his face, weirdly endeared by your thought process.

“Only if I had to.” You say chuckling between shivers, the cold now seeping through your makeshift snowsuit hitting against the sweat you’d worked up.

“You want it?” He offers.

“No i'm good, thanks”

“Because you don’t think I'm a murderer or because you have another one hidden in the room already?” he laughs, but he stops when you tilt your head slightly and raise your eyebrows, averting your eyes.

“Wait, do I need this knife?” he calls as you trudge back through the snow.

You both change into less sweaty attire and you settle into the couch turning on to watch the latest forensic files rerun. You shiver as you sit down having caught a chill. Noticing you shaking, Frankie goes to the wardrobe and grabs down a spare blanket throwing one at you so it lands directly over your head. He laughs when he sees you slowly turn towards him beneath the blanket, like someone in a makeshift ghost costume.

“Excuse me!” you laugh

“Hey you should be thanking me, can't have you freezing to death.” he says, “Are you asleep under there?” he asks, when you don't respond

“I'm not a cat! I don't fall asleep when someone throws a blanket over me!” He's not paying attention to what he's doing and the bottle in his hand shatters against the counter, a shard slicing his hand open.

“Fucking shit.” you him sigh.

“Are you okay?” You ask maneuvering out from under your blankets to see Frankie in the kitchen, glass on the floor and blood coming down his arm.

“Wow you're out of my sight for 2 seconds and you maim yourself” you say laughing, stopping when you see the panicked look in his eye, the event evidently triggering something deep in his psyche. You quickly stand up and he goes to move towards you.

“No don't move Frankie, stay where you are.” you reassure softly, watching as his eyes lay into your own, his breathing calmer now “You're in socks, can't have you cutting your dancing feet” you say.

“You’ve heard of my dancing feet,” he says, grounding himself again.

“Only bad things” you say, throwing him a pair of shoes that he carefully puts on before moving toward the closet where the broom is “No come here, let me see your hand. The mess can wait, you're more important,” you stress leading him over to the couch and sitting him down.

“Wow, first time I'll be able to afford professional health care “ he jokes as you take his hands in your own.

“Ow” he says when you press down onto the hand to assess the damage.

“It's fine, not deep enough for stitches, should heal up on its own. I still want to clean it though, to stop any infection.” You return with a small bottle of over priced vodka opening it and dabbing some onto a cotton pad. He doesn't flinch when the alcohol cleans the wound and he watches as you bandage his hand up.

“You carry a med pack with you on every trip?” he queries, but you don’t hear him you’re too focused on wrapping his hand.

“There! good as new,” you say standing up and cleaning up the glass on the floor. “Hey did you bring a swimsuit?” you ask, dumping the glass into some newspaper that was left in the room.

“Why?” He asks.

“Answer the question Frankie” you say, folding the paper around the shards before placing it into the trash.

“Yes, you wanna go hang out at the pool with the fifty families stuck here?”

“Ya. You don't? Seriously this room is wildly expensive and has a huge jacuzzi tub, I'm getting in your welcome to join, but bathing suits are mandatory.” you offer.

“I was gonna get in fully clothed,” he offers, not missing a beat.

“Perfect even better”

As per usual he beats you to the punch and settles into the tub that was more akin to a hot tub than a bath, he wanted to get in first partially to annoy you and partially so his body wouldn’t be on full display, he wasn't as jacked as he once was and he’d become insecure about certain areas that he’d let go once his kid came along. He watches as you walk in and his eyes can't help but follow your figure around the room, a beautiful person behind a beautiful personality, he thanks the universe for placing him into your orbit.

“That why they call you catfish?” you ask drawing him from his daydream back into an equally pleasing reality.

“What?” he responds, blushing at having been called out on his gawking.

“Cause your mouth hangs open like a fish out of water when you're zoned out” you smirk, lowering yourself down into the tub.

“Rude” he says splashing after you settle in.

“Alright, Frankie, what is it?” you ask, causing his face to look up to you “what's your deal, apart from smoking? You gotta have flaws”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” he charms

“Sinister” you laugh, but he doesn't, you reach your foot up tapping his cheek with it,

“Disgusting,” he chuckles, grabbing it and rubbing the arch before pushing it back into the water.

“God, I miss the ocean” you confess, “ I hate the city sometimes.”

“You’re not planning on staying in Chicago after you're done?”

“Nope, gonna get myself out to the coast, or at least somewhere without winters.” you say stretching your arms out across the tub. “How about you, are you planning on staying?”

“ Probably, no reason to leave, plus it's close to my mom so she can take care of Arianna when I'm at work, though I wouldn't be opposed to moving if the opportunity presented itself she's young enough that it wouldn’t be too hard.” he says, wanting you to know that if you asked, hed follow you anywhere.

“Arianna, beautiful name. Did you pick it?” you ask looking up when a few minutes of silence pass. As you do you notice that the somber look from early had returned. “You okay?” you ask.

“I don't deserve her, I don’t deserve something so good.” he states, suddenly realizing he didn’t deserve someone like you either. You wouldn’t be sitting in the tub with him if you knew what he’d done.

“Frankie that's not true” you reassure

“You don't know the shit I've done. I'm not... I'm not a good person,” he says, still not looking over to you.

“Well, I…” you begin to refute.

“Seriously, I've done bad things… awful things'' he clears his throat, afraid to look at you, afraid you’d be terrified by him.

“People make bad mistakes, but that doesn't make them irredeemable, not if they are willing to change. You understand what you did was bad, that says something.” you reassure, knowing the guilt was likely left over from the military.

“Well, wise words coming from someone who's never done anything bad”

“You don't know me that well Frankie, I’ve done my fair share of stupid things, crappy things to numb the pain. It's what we do to make up for those shitty actions that count. At every turn, you’ve shown me that you're not an evil person. Everything I’ve seen is good, and funny and incredibly kind.” you finish and you continue to nudge him with your foot until he finally cracks a smile.

“Well now you're smiling again, my missions complete and it's time for bed” you say stepping out of the tub and drying off, unaware that you’d just made Frankie fall even harder for you. His eyes helplessly following you as you leave the bathroom.

“Since I'm an outpatient, does that mean I get the good side of the bed?” he calls out after you. You roll your eyes but let him have it, you preferred the sleeping situation the way it was.

[agusvedder]

I DON’T CARE if this doesn’t get any notes. I need to vent.

My name is Agustina, I’m 27 years old. I’m a nonbinary, queer, latinx person, parent of a 4 year old, non-verbal authistic child. I suffer from depression and anxiety.

I’m 9 thousand kilometers away from the woman I love.

I’m not a victim. I am a minority. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

I started watching Supernatural in 2015, you know, being a stay-at-home parent, who dropped her career and her job to live the first years of their child, there wasn’t much I could do in my free time but to watch a show. I caught a few episodes of season 11 on tv and then I decided to start from zero. I always acknowledged how problematic it was in terms of representation, but always saw small threads of light filtering in the message it sent, recognizing how its writers were trying to shed a little light, creating a jenga tower of storylines and new characters, only to be thrown away by poor, useless deaths and the erasure of said characters.

Since my first run on season 1 I related to Dean. I saw myself on him. (I will never be as brave and cool as him tho, never ever, but his personality traits, some of his family issues, his self worth issues, his loneliness, his unaddressed childhood trauma, his growth in a circle of violence, his reticence to address his feelings until he explodes?... Yeah. There are days where my girlfriend makes fun of me saying “Ok Dean”). I kept looking up to Dean in his geekiness, in his way he always put his life on the line to protect the people he loves and put them always first… even in the supernatural side of the storyline, he still was profoundly human and abnegated to the people in his life. Also because I’m deeply in love with Castiel but that’s another subject. Thanks to this show, I’ve found people in my own country who now I recognize as my family beyond SPN, who helped me accept myself the way I am, who are always there for me. My found family, my chosen family. Because family don’t end in blood, because family cares about you, not only for what you can do for them, because that’s what all of us have in common, and why this show resonated as strongly as it did for us. That’s why we found each other and ourselves in the process, in a circle of love, support, non-judgement and willingness to find a family in ourselves when our own blood relatives ignored us, abused us, refused to recognize us. We’ve found love and family. I’ve found the woman with whom I wanna spend the rest of my life with because of this show.

That’s the power of this story. I know my small circle is not the only one who lived this, who continues to live it.

I can talk about this forever, but there’s something I wanna talk about specifically here. When the ending aired.. what I felt was… like a bucket of cold water was thrown over my head. You know when your parents come home, or call you and give you the devastating news that someone you love died? that exact feeling. The adrenaline, the heartbreak, the feeling of loss. 

The whole season 15 and 15 years of storyline were completely overturned. The misogyny the writers tried so hard to erase, it was there again, in a faceless woman who was supposed to represent the person a lead chose to spend the rest of his life with, reduced to a lilac dress, a blurry face and a uterus. We never seen acknowledged the existence of Eileen Leahy, Sam Winchester’s romantic interest since season 11, his perfect partner whose disability wasn’t an obstacle for her to be a badass hunter. (BUT COVID!! <- No. Eileen Leahy appeared in two episodes this season without Shoshannah being on set: Last Holiday and Despair. If they wanted to include her, they would have. They didn’t because they don’t give a FUCK). Sam Winchester is an academic, a witch, a leader, a powerful hunter, a kind human being, and the ending that was given to him was living an unfulfilled life, dying at a ridiculous young age, having a son only to replace his dead brother? It was sad. Sammy deserved better. He always did.

My beloved Dean Winchester, who I love so deeply, who taught me a lot about myself, about life, love, family, about *ejem* VICIOUS CIRCLES and the power of breaking free from them, of learning to embrace one’s self, our real tastes, our real identity, to come out of a shadow of being reduced to someone’s caretaker instead of having an identity of our own, to spend life loving family the healthy amount.. well, he was killed in a ridiculous way, on a milk run of a hunt.  After being eager and ready to kill himself so many times. After all he’s been through, after saying he’s good with who he is, after considering retirement, after standing up to his dad, saying he already has a family, ready to cut the “I’m Okay” bullshit, address his feelings, his trauma, don’t letting those define him. He deserved better. He always wanted a family, he always wanted to break free from the version of himself he was created to be, “daddy’s blunt little instrument” (For fuck’s sake, he even said it in the same show 10’ before dying, man. If we don’t keep living, the sacrifice the people who died for us did, was for nothing). Are you telling me this man really would refuse his brother to call an ambulance? Refused his brother to get the first aid kit even knowing it was more serious than his brother thought? He was ready to live. He CHOSE life, and at the end his choice was stripped away from him. He clearly was a bisexual man and they never explored it.

Cas. The misfit. The fish outside of the water. Ambiguous gender and sexuality. Finally makes a homosexual declaration of love after all he’s been through. After being brainwashed, used, suicidal, isolated. After telling Sam and Dean he loved them more than once, that they meant everything for him. After confessing he’s been in love with Dean since he pulled him out of hell…. Was erased from the story. Erased, literally. Two emotionless mentions aren’t enough for a 12 year old family member who pulled both brothers out of hell, who died for them more than once, who until 2 seasons ago he didn’t even feel like he belonged there ‘cause he was never told he was loved. No one ever told him “I love you” back. Not Jack, not Sam, not Dean, not Mary. No one. Ever. And still, he died for love. And with his death, he was erased from the finale, being that the first finale Castiel wasn’t in since his appearance on the show. He deserved better. 

All roads lead to Rome and you know what we got at the end of that road? a bottomless pit of NOTHING. The building up towards a different end isn’t just in s15. It’s been there for years and years. And if you watch the show, you see it at plain sight.

 

Sam Winchester hurried to die to reunite with his brother in heaven EVEN WHEN HE SPENT 30 MORE YEARS WITH A WIFE AND A KID he only wanted to die to go back to his brother? it’s insane, it’s ridiculous. That’s not what the show has been about for seasons now. SEASONS. The road was paved towards a healthy brotherly bond, each brother living their future the way they wanted, finally breaking free from the curse John dropped on Dean that Sam’s destiny was in his hands. No no. What was that? Did it ever happen? Was it a fever dream? They really destroyed everything in 38 minutes of the finale? 

Stupid. 

Representation is important, stories are important. They change lives. You know how it changed mine? After I saw Jonathan Van Ness coming out as non-binary, I started to realize how I never called myself "a woman, a girl" or anything like that, how my "female presenting" aesthetic changes drastically depending on how I feel when I wake up  how I always called myself a "person", no gender involved. I realized I was a non-binary person even after becoming a parent. Thanks to Jonathan Van Ness. Thanks to seeing a person like her being unapologetically herself. 

Representation matters. 

It matters. 

It helped my mom understand me when I was 13 and had a girlfriend. It helped my dad educate himself about trans identities. It helped my sister understand about her demisexuality. It helps break circles of ignorance and stereotypes. It helps people process what these characters wanna tell, and realize they're human beings above it all. We suffer, we laugh, we grieve. We love. We exist. 

Supernatural missed a chance to be a historical show in terms of representation. And it breaks my heart.  I cant believe they decided to erase Dean's sexuality, to erase Castiel after saying loud and proud he's in love with a man, to erase Eileen whose disability only was a disadvantage when they KILLED HER in the most ableistic way in s11, to never show Charlie and her girlfriend again, that they decided to make God bisexual AND a villain, thay they decided to turn the only regular non-binary character of color into the villain too (Billie).

I'm still grieving.

This is why "a stupid show" is so important for me, and for lot of people like me. Cause representation can change lives. Stories can change lives. It certainly changed mine, and I'm not the only one. 

Don't let anyone tell you you're just a butthurt fan because you're suffering this ending. Every one of us have a story and this is mine. All of us are valid, our feelings are valid. And we'll get through this eventually

[chews-erotically]

Waxing Gibbous 

Pairing: Ezra + femNurse! Reader

Rating: Hard M / 18+ ONLY

       * Warnings: Angst/ mentions of childhood trauma/ mention of domestic abuse, violence/ killing both in- and unintentional/ SMUT/ hand job/ fingering/ mentions of partner-sharing, threesomes/ PTSD/ nightmares

      * Summary: Confessions of sin and of desires.

      * Word Count: ~2200

*Part ONE* *Part TWO* *Part THREE* *Part FOUR* *Part FIVE**Part SIX*        *Part SEVEN*  *Part EIGHT*  *Part NINE*  *Part TEN*  *Part ELEVEN*  *Part TWELVE*

 PART THIRTEEN

    The weather on Central turned cool as the months stretched on. You’d realized after the bar that you had perhaps pushed too far, too soon. You’d both retreated back to the sanctuary of your home to regroup. The insidious nightmares continued for you, though nowhere near the level of intensity of the first. You continued to sleep with the lights on, limbs entangled with Ezra’s. You held on to one another, fingers drifting over pulse points, entwining fingers and legs. Two halves of some damaged whole.

    You’d found some solace in cooking. You had gone so long without anything more than the nutritionally dense, yet bland and uninspired nutribars and ration packs that you were desperate to experiment. It was slow going at first, but Ezra was far from selective with what he’d eat. He devoured everything you put in front of him, even burnt and strangely seasoned. He offered profuse compliments that expounded upon his good fortune in having found someone so willing to graciously cook for him. It always made you snort, but you appreciated the fact that he was supportive.

    Ezra had begun writing an autobiography of sorts. You often heard his dictation well into the stretch of your afternoons, his voice animating into flights of vivid imagery and florid, expounding descriptions. He dictated, but he also typed, pecking with the pointer fingers of each hand. You knew that when he was typing he was not to be disturbed. He never said it outright, but you knew that he typed because he could not bring to life the horrors he’d both witnessed and committed, he could not convince himself to speak of things he’d done that would shake the foundations of a kinder man’s moral compass.

    You were not privy to those thoughts. You stayed away, you respected his need to keep that part of him tucked away. You knew it was his way of working through it, of processing the deeds that had led him to what seemed in the reaches of his mind to be an unearned reward. He would tell you in his own time, you did not press or push him as you knew better than most how fragile peace of mind could be. You would allow him any indulgence that may work to keep the dreams away.

    When Ezra had a nightmare, you were most often awoken by a keening whine between clenching teeth. He did not thrash as you did, rather he’d lie beside you as if paralyzed. You had to talk to him to bring him back, coaxing his rigid muscles to loosen with careful, even strokes of your palms across his limbs and torso. 

    “Come back to me, love. You’re not back there. You’re here with me.”

    He would reemerge from his fathomless depths gasping, and reach out to you, winding his limbs through yours as a thistle seeks to weave itself into the wind that caresses it.

    You moved your hand to his chest, felt the frantic pounding beneath his breast. Like a trapped bird desperate to escape. You smoothed your fingers across the expanse of his bare chest, his skin warm and alive, thrumming. Present. And then lower, rubbed against the soft curve of his belly as its panicked heaving incrementally slowed.

    Lower still to the soft curls beneath his navel. Your fingers wove through the hair, teasing the skin with your nails. Ezra huffed, eyes fluttering. He turned his head toward you, knocking his forehead against yours.

    “My Dove….the succubi had their talons hooked into my tattered soul once again, I’m afraid.”

    You leaned forward and kissed him softly. His hitching exhale made its home within your mouth.

    “Is there nothing I can do to take this away, Ezra? Nothing I can offer you that will soothe you?”

    Your finger dipped down, lightly tracing the curve of his half-hard cock. You felt it twitch, followed by Ezra’s sharp intake of breath.

    “The demons that consume the nether regions of my addled mind cannot be placated so easily, Dove. The things I have done, the wretched life I’ve lived would leave you without thought of staying. My greatest fear is your discovering the nefarious deeds of my past, of learning exactly who it is that you lie willingly next to in this bed.”

    “I know who I lie next to, Ezra. I lie next to a man who decided to trust me, who gave me my voice back and showed me that I am worthy of love. That will never change. No matter what sins you’ve committed, I can stop loving you no more than I can keep the moon from waxing and waning.” Your hand encircled his length, rubbing gently. You trailed kisses across his shoulder as he gasped. He reached a hand to cover yours, stilling your actions momentarily. He paused for what seemed an impossibly long beat, seeming to consider his next words to you.

    “When I was a child in Louisiana we were poor. Mama worked three jobs to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads. My father was a drunk, shiftless sonofabitch. He put his hands on Mama and on me and Isaiah like clockwork when his life did not go his way. It did not go his way often. One night, he was really workin’ Mama over something awful. Isaiah was out in the shed fiddlin’ with an old transistor we found earlier that day at the salvage yard. I was alone in the house and Father had his hands around Mama’s neck.

    “She was strugglin’ and kicking at his knees, wherever she could reach, but Father wouldn’t stop. When he maneuvered close enough to the root cellar I saw my chance. I ran and I screamed, as loud as I could, and I shoved up against Father with all of the force I could muster. A meager show, to be sure, but Father was well on his way to obliterated by that time. He was just unsteady enough on his feet to topple forward down the steps. I heard his neck snap like a twig and he was dead before he hit the dirt. Mama and I told Isaiah it was an accident. But the truth is, Dovie, I took a life for the first time when I was nine years old.”

    Your hand raised from his groin to cup his cheek, your throat constricting around the lump forming there.

    “You were just a little boy, Ezra, scared for his Mama. You were protecting her. He may have killed her that day, if not for you.”

    His eyes narrowed, his voice thick with emotion. “That day set my path. I knew that I was not fortunate. I hated that I didn’t have what others were so freely given. I was born under a bad star, under an awning of misfortune. I was determined from that day forward to do whatever it took to survive. Kill, maim, steal. I have sold my soul a million times over to ensure my own victory in all my ensuing endeavors.”

    When he paused to collect his thoughts further, your hand drifted back down to his groin. He was now fully erect, and you felt the precum beading at the tip of his cock. He was hot, unbelievably so, and his eyes squeezed shut with a low groan as you swept your thumb through the slick of his crown. His head tipped back into his pillow. He resumed his confessions with a straining voice.

    “Later on, when Isaiah and I began prospecting as a means of finding our fortunes, we often found ourselves on the wrong end of an underhanded deal. We were green, and we were easy marks. We were swindled, robbed and double-crossed more than I care to admit, Dove. It took me a fair amount of time to become just as ruthless as those who would venture to hoodwink myself and my partner. The first time I killed on a job, it was a woman who thought she could bewitch and seduce me. Isaiah had overheard her plans with her partner to satiate my carnal desires before making off with my haul in the dead of night. I saw the knife in her hand as she tried her best to take my cock down her throat. I wrested it from her and used it to penetrate her chest. The third intercostal space of the ribcage houses an anatomical landmark known as Erb’s Point. Her own weapon found its home at the apex of her heart, and she bled out summarily.”

    His breathing was becoming more shallow,  his exhales more explosive as you continued to stroke him as he spoke, reaching every so often lower still to cup and gently roll his balls, which were steadily drawing themselves up, tightening against his tensing body. He canted his hips up into the air as you worked him. He rasped out a stuttering groan and panted up into the ceiling before whipping his head toward you, turning his body onto its side in the bed beside yours.

    “You know by now….”

    (gasp)

    “Isaiah was stabbed and left to die in an alley. It was the work of that woman’s partner. While I…”

    (groan)

    “While a did heartily mourn the loss of my only sibling, I could not….Kevva, girl….I could not begrudge him his need for karmic justice.”

    You brought your palm to your mouth, licked a wide, lascivious stripe from the base of your palm to the tips of your fingers. Ezra’s hand found your hip and squeezed. His eyes were dark, lust-filled and far away. He was lost in his reverie while consumed with your ministrations.

    “Keep going, sweetheart,” you soothed to him, nipping at the junction of his neck and shoulder. “I’ll take it from you. Don’t hold it back..”

    He answered with a full-body shudder, teeth catching his lip. He swelled and twitched and leaked into your eager hand; you knew he was close. He canted his lips to the cusp of your ear, breath hitching, stirring the hair there like chaffs of wheat in summer wind.

    “I found...myself alone and so I was available to partner up with whomever I could find that I deemed beneficial on my various excursions. I...fuck, I….found myself attached to a most open arrangement related to a job I signed up for on the Pug. A married couple, male and female. They….they both took a shine to my proselytizing, indeed they each became in short order equally enamored with...other more physical aspects of my prowesssweetmother….”

    His canting hips began an erratic stutter as your hand squeezed and stroked and twisted around his turgid cock. Your own breath became thick and shallow, a pool of arousal collecting at your center that you soon felt drooling onto the flesh of your inner thighs. You nipped at his jawline as his eyes fluttered shut, eyebrows knit together, mouth open as he embraced the divine sensations you were giving him.

    “Ezra….” you moaned against him. “Ezra, did you fuck them? Tell me how you fucked them…”

    “Always….shit….always together. That was the agreement. His cock in my mouth, her mouth on my cock… oh my gods sweetheart I’m close….he’d eat her pussy while I fucked his tight ass….she...fuck meee...she loved a hard cock in her cunt and in her ass at the same tiiiimme…..oh Jesus Dove FUCK.”

    His hips thrust and stuttered, his balls drawn taut and tight as he spilled into your hand. He buried his face in your neck and moaned, whimpered, as his seed came forth hot and thick to paint your palm and fingers.

    When he finally stilled, you brought the mess he’d made to your lips and made a show of licking every finger before lapping at your palm to clean it thoroughly.

    Ezra’s fingers found themselves parting your soaked, swollen folds as you gasped against his mouth, your tongue licking in to caress his teeth, to tangle with the slick velvet of his own talented instrument.

    “I want that, Ezra,” you groaned against his hot mouth. “I want that with you...I want you to watch me while I lick a cunt. I want to gag on someone else’s cock for you. Perform for you. I want to watch you get fucked in that beautiful ass….” you keened as two of his fingers entered your twitching, weeping hole. Ezra watched your face, eyes wide and mouth open, as he processed the frantic, lust-soaked words that spilled from your lips unabashed in their filth.

    “Is that what you desire my love? To explore the whims of the Satyr, to share the pleasure of other willing bodies with one another?”

    “Fuck yes, Ezra…” you sobbed against his flexing bicep as his fingers and palm worked you toward your own rapid petit mort.

    “Kevva wept, Dove, then you shall have it.”

tag list:  @ifimayhaveaword, @rzrcrst, @absurdthirst, @cinewhore, @hopelikethesun, @yespolkadotkitty, @sin-djarin, @lackofhonor, @din-damn-djarin, @mrpascals, @theocatkov, @thefineandnobleartofavoidance, @hellojustheretolookatmeemees, @cyaredindjarin, @im-like-reallythirsty, @mstgsmy, @goldafterglow, @givemethatgold, @shaqbutt, @sirianisrock, @artemiseamoon, @thatreclusewriter, @scribbledghost, @f0rever15elf, @opheliaelysia, @qveenbvtch, @hdlynn, @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa, @spacegayofficial, @ezraslittlebirdie, @ezrasarm, @ezraslittleblondestreak, @tintinwrites, @kindablackenedsuperhero, @darthadeline, @alexisinorbit, @knittingqueen13, @lueurnotes, @xakilicious, @keeper0fthestars, @huliabitch, @di-kut, @zombieaurora, @corrupt-fvcker, @cryptkeepersoul, @teaofpeach, @thestreamergirl, @frannyzooey, @mndalorians, @sistasarah-sallysaidso, @autumnleaves1991-blog, @heatherbel, @the-feckless-wonder, @millllenniawrites, @revolution-starter, @melon-eyes 

[storysofmyown]

Single Father Lucifer AU, a drabble

Plot: Lucifer and his six children process as they move into their new house and Lucifer’s first meeting with Diavolo.

Note: I honestly don't know if i should call this a drabble, a an actual fic or anything like that. But...its not just the normal listing of headcanons so...enjoy???

The front door opened slowly; Lucifer fumbled with the keys as he took the first step inside the house. The room was quiet, the living room was spacious enough for the seven of them, Lucifer sighed while turning around to instruct the people that were moving their stuff where to put them, when a small child went running inside, making a lot of noise, giving the house a little taste of what it was about to go through for the upcoming years.

"I WANT THE BIGGER ROOM" Mammon screamed as he ran up the stairs to the second floor, ready to claim his room.

"It isn't fair! I have more stuff than him! I SHOULD GET THE BIGGER ROOM!" Leviathan ran after Mammon, his goldfish plushy in his hands as the child almost tripped on his way up stairs.

"Stop running inside the house!"

"We only just got here and those two are already running around." Satan fixed his glasses as he entered the room, positioning himself out of the way and looking at the new place that was going to be their home.Even though he was only 9 years old, he already acted more mature than his eldest brother.

"How tiring." Belphie said mid yawn, holding onto Beel’s shirt as not to fall over, who’s stomach only grumbled even while munching on a cookie.

"Well, I don't care about who gets the biggest room, I just want the prettiest one!" Asmo threw his hands in the air, loosing balance for a second and having to hold onto Lucifer's neck as not to fall, the man in question tightened his grip around his child, before moving out of the way and placing Asmodeus down.

Lucifer groaned, massaging his temples before turning and giving the moving crew instructions. He looked over at the four children standing there before sighing. This was going to be a tiring day.

"Why don't you go with your brothers? I'll be here making sure we brought everything, so why don't you guys go explore the house?" Belphegor and Asmodeus nodded before going upstairs were Levi and Mammon were fighting. Lucifer looked at the remaining children, Satan and Beel, who were looking up at him. "What is it?"

"Do you have the list?" Satan asked, smiling smugly at his father. Lucifer mentally cursed himself. He had forgotten the list back in their old house, now they wouldn't be able check what items had arrived. The man groaned before he heard the child laugh. "I knew you would forget it, here." Satan took a piece of paper out of his back pocket. It was wrinkled and the handwriting was messy, but he could read it. "I figured you might forget it, so I made my own!" Lucifer smiled fondly at the kid, who only went smiled and went upstairs with his other brothers. Beel remained beside Lucifer’s legs.

"Do you want another cookie Beel?"

"Yes! No, wait...I...I wanted to help with the boxes." Lucifer smiled at his child, before pinching his cheeks and nodding.

"Okay, let us see which boxes we can help carry. That way we can finish earlier." Beel nodded slowly. After a few hours of moving and opening boxes, finally they had everything inside. Lucifer paid the crew before making his way upstairs, the children were all huddled up in what he determined was going to be his room so that Mammon and Levi stopped fighting over it.

"Okay kids, who is staying each room? I need to know for when we unpack tomorrow."

"I want the one with the balcony!!!" Asmo chimed in, raising his hand, and jumping up and down in excitement. There were no objections raised, so he nodded, to which a small and happy "Yes!" Was heard.

"There is a room with some shelves, can I have that one? I can store my books in there." Lucifer nodded slowly; Satan gave a small smile before fixing his glasses again. Lucifer needed to remind Simeon to bring them before Monday.

"I want the biggest one then!" Leviathan pouted while hugging Henry, the goldfish, even tighter, bright eyes looking up at Lucifer, who glanced at Mammon to see he was about to protest.

"How about this, Levi, i will get this room since i need more space, and you get the second biggest room and Mammon, “Lucifer glanced at his oldest son. “you get the one next to mine because you are the older, okay?" Mammon grumbled for a moment before nodding.

"Well, since I'm the oldest it's only natural I get a room besides pop's, I'm basically the head of the family!" Mammon grinned while Levi just stuck out his tongue at his brother.

"What about you two? Which rooms will you be staying in?" Lucifer looked at the twins, Belphie had his head resting in Beel’s shoulder.

"We want to be in the same room." Beel spoke up, looking pleadingly at Lucifer, who raised an eyebrow.

"You sure? We have more space in this house, there is no need for you two to share a room anymore-"

"We don't mind." Belphie yawned. "We like sharing a room, right Beel?"Which got a nod from his twin.

"Fine, guess that leaves a room for visit or storage. Lucky us, I guess."

"Dad..."

"Yes Beel?"

"I’m hungry."

"There it is, I was wondering why it has taken so long for you to say it." Satan grinned lightly at his younger brother while Lucifer thought.

"Well, I was planning to go buy some groceries tomorrow. So how about we all go out to eat?" The kids cheered at the proposal, everyone except Levi who groaned at the idea of going out again.

"Didn't we pass a restaurant in our way here?"

"Yes, I believe we did, Asmodeus. Want to check it out?" The children all nodded excitedly.

The next couple of days had been... chaotic. School had yet started, and the kids were immensely bored, which meant they would constantly playing pranks on one another, causing problems, fighting and for Lucifer to lose his mind. He was supposed to start working in 3 days, and he was meant to visit the office that day for a quick tour.

And the way things were, he was sure he was not going to be able to go today at all. While he pondered what he should do, a knock came to the door. Asmo ran towards the door claiming he would answer as Lucifer rose to his feet, only to hear a excited gasp coming from his child. "Uncle Simeon!! Cousin Luke!!!" Asmo exclaimed, and the moment those words left his mouth, it was like the army of children had been summoned to the front door and tackled their uncle to the floor.

After a few exchanges and Simeon hugging the kids, those running with Luke upstairs who already seemed a little annoyed, Lucifer and Simeon sat to talk. A small conversation before Simeon reminded him of his visit.

“But anyway, shouldn't you be at the office right now?” Simeon raised an eyebrow, starring at Lucifer.

“Yes...i was supposed to, but i couldn't just leave the children alone and taking them with me was out of the question.” Lucifer lets out a deep sigh as he closes his eyes for a moment.

“Why do you think I’m here for?” Simeon smiled at the man. “I’ll watch over the kids. Now you go and give the boss a good first impression.” Simeon got up from the couch and proceeded to call the kids and say they will play a game. Lucifer looked at his watch, it was almost four pm, they had agreed to meet at 4:30. If he was fast, then he might just make it in time.

 And so, Lucifer started a race against the clock, after finishing taking a quick shower and putting his clothes on, he bid goodbye to the children before managing to get to the office with five minutes to spare. Lucifer sighed as he parked the car, his portfolio in hand as he thought about what awaited him in this new job. Because of the move and the kids expenses, he needed to find a well paying job thanks to Simeon and Silomon. And apparently the boss, Diavolo, as he told them to call him, was in desperate need for an assistant. So...Lucifer took the opportunity and moved across the country in order to give the kids a new begging...he hoped it was for the best.

Lucifer was in front of the receptionist, Barbatos as the man had presented himself, and now was waiting to be called in. He sat down while he waiting, not long after, a red haired man sat besides him, Lucifer greeted him and was planing to stay silent until the man spoke up.

“You must be here for the assistants job, right?” Lucifer looked at the man, taking in his features, he was good looking and around Lucifer’s age if not a bit older, Lucifer swallowed before nodding.

“Yes, i was informed to be here to meet with the boss in order to get a run down of how the building looked and how we would operate.” The man besides him hummed, a curious smile as he looked at Lucifer. 

“Well, if that's the case, i should probably warn you.” The man looked around, almost as if to make sure he isn't being heard. “Some people say the boss can be a bit...how do I put it... extravagant. Think you can handle that?” Lucifer raised an eyebrow at the man, was he trying to spread rumors? Whatever it was, Lucifer just shook his head.

“Even if that was the case, I wont mind. I’ve heard good things about this place and the boss and i...would like to be part of it.” Lucifer cleared his throat before giving the man a side smirk. “Besides...after dealing with my children all day i bet the boss cant be that bad.” He wasn't sure why he said that, but there was something inviting, almost enticing about the man sitting besides him. Normally he wouldn't give details about his personal life to those around him but he felt at ease with the stranger.

The man only smiled at Lucifer before getting up. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

“But what about-”

“Don’t worry about it, Barbatos will let us know when its time to head back.” The man pointed at Barbatos, who was acting as the current assistant until Lucifer started work next week. The man only nodded with a smile at both Lucifer and the man, and although hesitantly, Lucifer agreed to be shown around.

After walking around for what felt like almost an hour, the strange red haired man had shown Lucifer every corner of the building, all except from one. Lucifer was worried that by now he had been called and was not present but as they were heading to the last room they were to check, Barbatos only smiled at them, which Lucifer took as an indicator that he had not been called yet. So, Lucifer fallowed the taller man into the elevator which not long after came to a halt.

“And to wrap this up, this is the cafeteria. We didn't want for the workers to go hungry all day feeding off vending machines so the order was given to make this room into the workers dinning place.” Lucifer looked around, there were some workers eating and the smell of food made his way to him, reminding him of just how hungry he actually was.

“That’s...actually a good idea.” Lucifer smiled, trying to ignore his own stomach. He should have listened to Beel before leaving the house. without eating anything. He tried to hide it, though, it seemed like he didn't do such a good job for the man chuckled before inviting him to eat. “Oh no, wouldn't want to oppose any trouble. Plus, i really should go up and  wait to be called in.” 

“Awe, cmon on! I'm inviting, and i already told you, Barbatos will let us know.” Lucifer thought about it for a second, and decided to accept the mans invitation.

They sat down on one of the tables after getting something small, Lucifer asked the knowledgeable man more about the company and slowly the conversation turned into more casual talk.

“Wait, wait, wait, so you are telling me you have six children?!” The man looked at Lucifer with wide eyes but an amused smile. “How in the world did you even get any sleep when they were little?” Lucifer would chuckle at this.

“Oh...well i actually didn't get any sleep. But, my youngest is making up for my sleep. He sleeps enough for the entire family.” This would get another laugh from the man, before he glances at his watch, clears his throat and gets up.

“Well, i must say I had a good time meeting you like this. But i must attend some meetings.” The man offered Lucifer a hand, which he gladly shook. 

“Of course- oh, i dot believe i got your name” Lucifer looks at the man.

“Ah right. My name is Diavolo, i am eager to start working with you from this week on, Lucifer.” At the mention of the name Lucifer went pale...that was his new boss. This whole time he had been talking with his new boss and not once did he suspect of it. Diavolo only chuckled at Lucifer’s face. “You should get going. I wouldn't want to keep you from your children that long. Oh! And next time, why don't you invite?” 

With this, the man disappeared. leaving a shocked Lucifer behind feeling embarrassed. After the shock wore off, Lucifer got in his car and drove home, immediately being greeted by his children.

“Daddy!!” Asmodeus jumped on Lucifer, only for the other kids to do the same, making him almost fall.

“Hey, calm down. Let your father at least enter the home.” Simeon laughed, before looking at Lucifer. “So, did you meet the boss?” 

“I...did. Not in the most ideal circumstances but-”

“Oh, i take it he acted like a normal employer  and didn't say who he was until he had to leave?” Simeon smirked.

“You knew he did that? And didnt warn me?” Lucifer glares at Simeon, only for him to laugh.

“he instructed us not to tell anyone. Its his way of getting to know his employees before the whole “work place” relationship takes over.” Lucifer glared once more only to sigh.

��...thank you for looking after the kids.”

“Of course, whenever you need it. We love watching over them!” Simeon starts gathering his things.

“Not at all!” Luke chimes in, he walked in carrying Belphegor who Lucifer proceed to take from the child’s hands.

After Simeon and Luke left, Lucifer was left with his kids. It seemed that Simeon had them play some games for it wasnt yet past nine when all of them were already asleep. Lucifer took them all to their rooms before heading to his. Soon he would start work and the kids school would be opening as well. He really hoped everything went well, for his sake, and his children's as well.

Aighty dears! I hope y’all had enjoyed this...drabble/fic? Whatever, not sure if ill write more like this for this AU but we will see! Also, for those awaiting the scarred chapter 13, i made some progress with it, finally TwT! It is not completed yet but id say half of it its done so...yay! :3 I hope yall liked this, and yknow...stay safe people!!

[moondustis]

malamente (m)

pairing: Jung Jaehyun + reader genre: angst, smut, drama word count: 8k summary:  bonnie and clyde au! Right now, at the downfall, you can only think back to the basement apartment and the job that barely managed to put food on your mouth. The lack of life on Jaehyun's eyes and how it seemed almost gone the past days. And there's the answer. It was. It was all worth it. 

You can see Jaehyun's mouth moving through the black mask but the sound of alarms and sirens are too loud, deafening even. Your hand grips the bag you're holding with much more force than needed, and there's tears on your face that you cant feel right now but it just gives the moment the touch of drama it needs. Jaehyun rushes to you, the gun in his hand pointed upwards as he cups your face, the alarms still going off and the sirens getting closer by the minute. You try to read his lips but its like your mind can't process anything, like you're in a state of shock that nothing can pull you out off. 

Was it worth it? Your mind provides. Was any of it worth it? 

Right now, at the downfall, you can only think back to the basement apartment and the job that barely managed to put food on your mouth. The lack of life on Jaehyun's eyes and how it seemed almost gone the past days. 

And there's the answer. It was. It was all worth it. 

✸

The routine repeats itself everyday, as it should. It’s almost as if you’re living on automatic mode. Your shift ends at 8pm. You take off your apron, get your bag and whatever leftover you managed to save for dinner and walk outside to meet Jaehyun, who’s waiting for you with a cigarette on his mouth.

He greets you with a kiss to the cheek, knows too well you despise the taste of the cheap cigarette he smokes. “How was work?” You let him hold your hand, feeling the weight on your body leave just a little bit.

“It was ok, same old.” You liked your job. Your very underpaid job, but still it was something. Your mother taught you how to cook from a young age so it just made sense to make use of the only talent you had. Even if sometimes the manager got on your nerve and made you want to quit. “How’s Yuta?”

Yuta was one of Jaehyun’s closest friends. The one that when everything was way shittier than it its now, taught Jaehyun how to work his way around those fancy music equipments and now they sell jingles for supermarkets every once in a while. “He's fine.“ Is all he replies with, never one to talk too much about matters of work, but today something seems off. Like his mind is somewhere else. 

Most days Jaehyun is good at hiding how miserable and exhausted he feels, how it destroys his soul to be wasting the only talent he has on things that are useless. But sometimes all he can do is smoke a whole pack of cigarettes while he argues with you that it would be better if he just found another job, something that pays more  but leaves him ten times more dead inside than he is now. 

On the other hand, you are the best at hiding it. Feels like that's the only thing that's pushing you both forward, the sweet smile you give him everyday even if your back hurts from sleeping on the old mattress. Even if you're tired of eating eggs everyday because they are cheaper. But after three years it's easy for him to see right past all that. 

“You sure you're okay?“ He asks when you both make into the full subway, the amount of people squeezing the two of you together. “You look tired.“

Don’t I always? You want to say, but you just shrug it off. “Yep.” You say, mindlessly. “Just had a long day, is all.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, the smell of the cigarette he had earlier still lingering but it doesn’t bother you as much as the kiss makes you feel warm. He is good at that, always has been. Making you feel safe and content without even saying a word. 

The rest of the way home is met with a comfortable silence from the both of you. You do this almost everyday, the shady streets don’t change, the flickering light doesn’t go out and the stray cat that stays just outside the stairs that lead you down your small house still hisses at Jaehyun when he tries to pet it. It’s a dreadful routine.

There’s a bill on the counter that you still haven’t gotten the courage to open yet when you enter the kitchen and Jaehyun runs to shower. The lasagna leftover you managed to get at work is something to be thankful for, even if the amount is not really enough for both of you. Still, you heat it and wait for Jaehyun to come out of the shower to eat it. 

You’re impatient, fingers running around the counter as the static noise of the microwave fills the room. You eye the bill for a minute before muttering a low ‘fuck it’ and grabbing it. You tear the paper, being met with a long letter detailing the specifics of a deal you made years ago and a reminder that if you don’t pay it soon you will be met with a pretty lawsuit. 

A long time ago your dreams were still intact inside of your head, and an acceptance to the university you aimed for just got the best out of your naivety. Drowning yourself in student loan sounded like a good idea at the time, you would be a lawyer by the time you were done with college anyway, more than enough money to pay for it later on. But in the end it didn't turn out like that, having to work two jobs didn’t make attending classes very easy and soon you were a college dropout with no money and an amount of student loan that you wouldn’t be able to pay. Ever. 

That exact amount stares at you now, plus taxes, in a bold font and a due date by the end of the month. Great, peachy even. It’s not like it makes your hands shake and your heart beat faster in your chest as you start to panic just a little bit.

You don’t even notice the beeping coming from the microwave, only snapping out of it when Jaehyun walks in the room, hair still wet. “Baby? What’s wrong?” His voice is filled with worry as he makes his way towards you. 

He has no comforting words when he takes the piece of paper from your hand and reads it, muttering a little fuck and shaking his head. “Let’s just forget it for now and eat, okay?” Is his clever solution and what can you do but nod. 

He tries to make small chat while you eat, trying his best to distract you and it works for the most part. The little anxiety monster not weighing so much on your back.

Later, when you have already showered and you’re both laying on the mattress on the floor he mutters the words that would change everything into the dark. “Do you ever think about how far you would go for money?” 

Most of the time you like to think you would never go too far to make money, always staying with the 9 to 5 jobs that didn’t pay that well. But days like this, your mind wanders around the alternatives. “Sometimes, I guess.” You whisper, as if to not disturb the quiet. “What about you?”

You turn around so you’re facing him but his eyes stay glued to the ceiling, as if he is in deep thought. “I would do anything with you.” He replies, not really answering the question but his words weigh on. Little did you know they would stick with you forever.

✸

He makes the proposition on a sunday night, when you both have a day off. The old television is playing reruns of a show Jaehyun liked to watch but you never really cared about. Tonight though he seems a bit uninterested. 

He had been acting out of it the whole week, not speaking much and moving around like he’s in a never ending anxiety state. 

“Have you heard about the little cafe down the street closing down?” You ask after too long in silence, making small talk as if to settle his nerves. 

“Huh?” You watch him blink from your side of the couch before his attention is turned to you. He looks comfortable in his big black hoodie but his hair is just about to get oily from not having washing it. “Why? I thought they were doing well.” 

You hum in agreement. “Heard it was because of the robbery couple weeks ago. People don’t really want to get their coffee on a dangerous neighbor.” He just blinks again and you realize he’s not paying attention to what you’re saying. “Is everything okay, baby?”

Out of nowhere he gets up from the bed, standing there looking at you with a weird air in his eyes. “I know a way we can get the debt money.” He says out of nowhere and quickly. 

“Oh.” You mutter out dumbly, not really knowing what to say to his abrupt confession. 

He scratches the back of his head, passing around the room as if trying to choose the right words. “I - Yuta and I were talking last week and he mentioned this, hm…” His nervous behavior is making you nervous as well and you wish he would just say it already. “He mentioned an opportunity.”

You raise your eyebrows, moving so you are sitting down on the bed, eyes trying to scan his. “What kind?”

Yuta was a great person, he truly was. But like you and Jaehyun, and probably every other person in New York, he struggled with money. Unlike you though, he would sometimes get involved in sketchy business and, against your knowledge, would try to get Jaehyun to do the same. 

“You probably won’t like it.” Jaehyun says and you know it’s not something good but you entertain him with a raise of your eyebrows. “Remember Doyoung?” 

“The guy with red hair?” You had met Doyoung once, during a small party at Yuta’s party. It was a long time ago, but you still remember his vivid red hair. 

Jaehyun nods. “He was doing some work around houses downtown. Cleanings pools and stuff.” He’s still pacing around your small bedroom, avoiding your eyes. “Well one of the men he was working for apparently forgot he had given him a spare key to the house.” 

“And where’s the opportunity here?” 

“Rich people are dumb, baby. That’s the opportunity.” You let out a small laugh at that. “The man has money hidden in his house and we have access to the keys.” 

He does a big gesture to you as if he had just discovered all the secrets of the universe. “Are you suggesting - You want us to rob someone?” You have a hard time processing his words. That’s by far the craziest thing Jaehyun has ever said, the drug dealing idea last year doesn’t even come close to this. “This is crazy. How are we even getting the key from Doyoung? And how are we even supposed to even get inside without being noticed?” 

“He’s giving it to us. Knows how much we need the money.” You let out a sigh, throwing your blanket away so you can get up as well. “And the dude will be away for a day next week app-“

“Jaehyun, you’re going crazy. Please look at-“

“No, ____. I’m not-“ He gets antsy at your reaction, finally facing you and cradling your face with both his hands. There’s desperation in his eyes and you want to make him feel at peace again. “We have to, baby. It’s our only chance.” 

Of the things you missed the most, hope was one of them. It made things make sense, hoping that everything would work out and tomorrow would be better. You think back to the day you lost it, saw it draining from Jaehyun’s soul as he cried in front of you for the first time. He had looked so fatigued as he looked at you and delivered the news that he got fired from his job and the only thing you could give him was the letter of eviction you had gotten earlier. 

After hope is gone you start to live on automatic, just trying to make it through the next day. There’s no silver linings and no alternatives. But this right here, seems like one. It’s a hard thing to admit but it really might be your only chance. 

You don’t accept it right away but Jaehyun knows you will eventually. That night you fall asleep with him telling you it will be ok as you cry yourself dry.

✸

Jaehyun gets a car. An old thing that has probably seen better days and which the origin of where it came from is kept hidden from you. He tells you to pack most things you will need for a few weeks, which are not much because you don’t own a lot. 

jaehyun gets a gun. A real one that you find out about when he’s driving you downtown, to rob a man’s house from all things. 

It’s around 1am but the streets are still busy, with people walking around and the neon signs still on. There’s a song playing that Jaehyun seems to enjoy because he keeps humming to it and for a second you forget about what’s happening. Until he asks you. “Are you nervous?”

There’s no beating around the bush here. “Yes.”

“Me too.” He says back and turns the music on even louder.

Your heart beats like crazy on your chest as Jaehyun enters they key on the lock, as if expecting for alarms to go off and for this to be over before it even starts, but nothing happens. He just opens the door and walks inside. 

If the house seemed huge from the outside, it’s even bigger inside. The architecture is minimalist, like the houses you see on the movies and you’re sure there are pieces of art on the walls are worth more than your life. 

The sound of your steps on the wood floor echo so you try to walk as slowly as possible, taking in the luxury that surrounds the place. 

“You can take whatever you like, just not something that they would notice soon.” Jaehyun's voice snaps you out of your daze, your eyes moving to where he’s heading inside the house. He seems determined and you should be too. 

“Okay.” You say back, trailing behind him before you decide to enter what it seems like a big closet. 

When you turn the lights on you let your eyes wander, there’s a full corridor full of clothes, shoes and bags that left your mouth gaping. Fashion had always been something you enjoyed but never let yourself fantasize too much about, other than a nice sale at H&M. Now though, you let your hands travel through all the soft and expensive looking fabrics. 

Your fingers stop when they touch the softest silk you had ever felt in your entire life, eyes shining when you see the lilac shade of it. A Valentino slip dress so pretty that you feel excited just by holding it and it doesn’t take you long to decide that this wouldn’t be missed. 

For the remaining of your search you let yourself be shallow but not too much,, entering bathrooms and taking perfumes and lipsticks with you but not letting yourself get away when you see bags and earrings that call your name. 

It feels like hours inside the house before you finally find yourself on the only room you hadn’t been yet and Jaehyuni’s voice is reverberating through the house in search for you. 

He finds you on the main bedroom, staring at the huge bed on the center of it. It looks comfortable.

He comes behind you, arms circling your waist and face resting on the crook of your neck. You let out a pleased hum. “Want me to fuck you there, kitten?” He whispers in your ear and even if it does send a shiver down your spine, you scoff at him. 

“You’re filthy, Jung Jaehyun.” Your reply makes him laugh, throwing his arm up in defeat. 

“A man can only dream.” He says and there’s a lightness to his voice that wasn’t there before but when you turn to look at him there’s still worry in his eyes. “Did you get everything you wanted?” 

You nod. “Just a few things.” 

He smiles, likes for some reason that you are being bashful about this. “Well I got us a lot of fucking cash.” It makes you laugh, hands moving to rest at his shoulders while you do your best to give him dreamy eyes. 

“You did?” He knows what you’re playing at and it only make him smile wider, dimples coming out. 

“Mhm-hm.” He says before pressing a quick peck to your lips. “You could even say we’re rich right now. Even got myself a Rolex.” 

He shows the watch to you with a smirk on his face. It was always his very out of reality dream to get one and here he was now, proudly showing his wrist off like he bought it with his own money.

“Oh! It’s so pretty.” 

“Yeah? You think so?” He asks, one hand moving to your cheek and caressing it with his thumb.

You nod again. “Makes you hotter.” You whisper and he lets out a full laugh, making you smile as well. 

“Can’t fucking believe you sometimes. A little vixen, that’s what you are.” 

“Can’t help that money makes me horny.” You joke, making him laugh even harder, bending to get the duffel bag that he had dropped to his feet. 

You both make sure that everything is set and non suspicious before leaving. Only stopping by the kitchen so Jaehyun can steal a bottle champagne and expensive cheese while you roll your eyes. 

The weight on your shoulders only leave when you’re inside the car driving away. It’s then, with the calm of the early morning, the wind on your face and a song playing, that you decide you want to see Jaehyun smiling all the time. 

“Jaehyun.” You call out to him and he immediately turns to look at you, hands still on the steering wheel. The worry has left his eyes, leaving space for a peaceful gleam that you absolutely adore. “I love you.” 

He gives you a smile, making your insides twist with happiness. “Love you too, angel. You’re my ride or die.” 

✸

When you pull up at the road motel it feels like something straight out of a movie, with lights flickering and only a few cars on the huge parking lot. 

Jaehyun had promised that as soon as you got back to the city you would go and spend a whole week at a fancy hotel to make up for this. But for now, the motel would had driven 2 hours to get to, would have to do. 

It wasn’t bad, you think to yourself, as you enter the little reception. The bed would probably be better than the one you had at home. 

“Good morning, welcome to La Luna.” The old lady behind the counters says in an almost robotic voice. She looks way past her bedtime and barely even glances twice at you. “Can I help you?” 

“We need a room, for a couple of nights.” Jaehyun replies, glancing at you to make sure you were okay. You give him a small smile. 

“We don’t book for more than a day. You have to come back in the morning to check-in again.” The lady says placing a piece of paper on the counter,  making him sigh before signing where it was needed.

“That’s okay. We’ll get one for the night and come back again tomorrow.” He says and as soon as the lady gives him the key he’s walking away, you following right behind. 

Room 439 is simple. Looks more like a plain hotel room, with the white sheets in the bed and the minimalist decor, then a road motel you have seen in movies. 

There’s the sound of the bag Jaehyun was holding falling to the floors, then of the gun being placed on the bedside table. Your eyes glance to the clock right next to it, the red lights indicating that it was a little after 4AM. You should feel tired but your body is tingling with adrenaline and excitement, heart beating slightly too fast. 

So you move to the bathroom, bag still in your hand. You can still hear Jaehyun moving around in the bedroom but it feels good to be alone for a second. 

Your hands are shaking when you remove the clothes you are wearing, folding them with patience and placing it on the closed toilet lid. Then you remove your underwear, the printing of the tight bra staying behind in slightly red marks. The streams of hot water from the quick shower you take wash them away. 

You feel like your heart will burst when you are completely dry, bending to the floor to open the bag with the things you had stolen behind. Stolen. The words echo in your head as you stare at yourself in the fogged mirror. There’s a blush on your cheeks from the heat and your hair is wet. You can barely see the perfume you hold so tightly as you spray your body with it, a pleasant, not too sweet and not too citrusy smell filling your senses.

Then comes the dress, a little folded for being in the bag, but still the most beautiful piece of cloth you had ever seen. You almost moan when the fabric hits your skin, the lilac of it looking almost angelic on you. It’s a pretty dress, stopping at your mid thigh and with the straps not doing much to keep you covered. 

Looking in the mirror again, you see yourself. None of the things on your body are yours, but it’s still you. 

When you walk inside the bedroom again a shiver runs down your spine from the cold air. Jaehyun is sitting on the bed, his now naked back is turned to you as he goes through the channels on the tv. 

It's silly but you clear your throat, trying to get his attention. It works and he turns so he's facing you, smile immediately painting his face. “Damn, baby. You look so pretty.“ He says genuinely and you can't help but smile back, your cheeks turning pink. “Come on, come here.“ He pats his thighs and you walk to him, until you're standing between his open legs. 

“Do you like it?“ You twirl around a little so the dress follows, giggling. 

He moves his hands to your thighs, rubbing through the dress and humming. “Of course, you look so beautiful.“ He presses a kiss to your clothed stomach, then another to the exposed area of your chest. “Smell so good too. Makes me want to eat you up.“ 

He looks at you then, eyes filled with something that you probably mirror and you can only reply with a little oh, making him laugh at you before finally pressing a kiss to your lips. 

Its quick before soon he's getting off the bed and moving you to where the champagne bottle is. “We should celebrate, huh?“ His voice is playful as he gets the bottle on his hands. “It's not everyday you become a millionaire.“ 

You laugh out loud. You are far from being a millionaire but it does feel like it, on this small hotel room with your designer dress and Jaehyun smiling at you. When he pops the champagne open you clap your hands and he moves it to his mouth trying to not get it to fall on the floor, but instead it drips down his neck, a bit getting on his chest. It makes something inside you tingle. 

“Can I have some?“ You ask, getting closer to him. 

“Sure, baby. Open up.“ You do as he says, parting your lips and tilting your head back a little so he can pour it on your mouth. He watches you the whole time, and after you have gulped down he places the bottle on the desk again, hands moving to your neck. Impatient, you close the distance first, smashing your lips together and almost groaning in frustration when he smiles against your mouth as if teasing you for being so eager. 

The kiss is hungry from the start, with his hands moving to your hips and you pulling on his lips. When you moan a little at the feel he opens his mouth a little, sliding his tongue against yours and you swear you will never get enough of this. 

Your hands move down, trying to unbutton his jeans but he distracts you with nips to your lower lip. “So eager, kitten.” He murmurs against your lip and you blush for being caught on your desperation. His hand moves down your dress, gripping at your bare ass before he’s smacking it, bringing a yelp to your lips. If you weren’t wet already you sure were now. “Are you gonna be a good girl for me, huh?” 

You nod, earning yourself another smack. “Y-yes, I’ll be a good girl. Please, please...” You whimper and he kisses you hard again, sucking at your lips and your grip at his shoulders. 

He goes down, kissing at your jaw, then your earlobe and then he’s biting at your neck, making you squirm but he keeps you still with a strong grip on your waist. His other hands goes to the thin strap of your dress, pushing it down until it falls on one side, exposing your breasts to him. 

He wastes no time, mouth going to your chest as he latches his lips to one of your hard nipples and you let out a moan, hands gripping his nape. “Oh —  Oh my god….” 

He gives the same attention to the other nipple and you feel overwhelmed already, always had been too sensitive. You don’t even notice when he pushes the other strap down and the dress falls to the floor. “Such a pretty dress, baby.” He mutters against your chest. “But you look much better like this.” 

He drops to his knees, hands roaming your body before they stop at your hips. One kiss to your stomach, then another and he’s finally where you want him the most. Taking his time, he pressed the littlest of kisses to your bare cunt before he’s pressing his tongue to it. You cry out at the feeling, hands moving to grip the table in front of you as he laps at you entrance, collecting your wetness there before he’s moving to your clit. 

He likes this as much as you do, humming against you and licking you so deeply you feel the urge to press your thighs together. He always said he could stay between your legs until his jaw got strained, he wouldn’t mind. “Taste so fucking good.” You can feel the vibrations of his voice through you, a shiver running down your body.

“Please, Jae… ‘M so close.” Your fingers grip his hair, pushing his mouth further and he hums again when you try to move against his mouth. 

“That’s it, kitten.” He groans, muffled by you. “Ride my face.” 

You did, grip on his hair only getting tighter as he continued to lick and suck you, two of his fingers slipping inside of you. It’s when he curls them and flicks his tongue just right on your clit you let out a cry. “Oh — Jae… I’m gonna cum— I’m…”

Your walls tighten around his fingers and then you’re seeing all white. Mouth falling open as he continues to lick, gentler this time, you through your orgasm. 

You have barely gotten your breath back before he’s dragging you to the bed, leaving his pants and briefs behind. His chest was shining with a light sheen of sweat as he hovers over you before dropping your lips to yours, making you taste yourself on his tongue. 

“Want you.” He mutters against your lips and you know, can feel him pressing against your thigh. “Want you so fucking bad.” 

He nuzzles his face against yours, before kissing your neck again. “Please…” You whine, arching your back to try and get closer to him. “Fuck me… Please.” 

“Yeah? Want me inside?” His voice was lower with around, hand moving to grip his cock and slicking the head with your wetness. You open your legs wider for him. “Want me inside your tight little pussy?” 

You nod your head, walls clenching at his words and he presses the head at your entrance, biting his lips. He slides in slowly, feeling you pulsing against him and making him groan loudly. He feels so good you could see stars right now. 

You lock your ankles behind him, bringing him closer and he lets out a moan. “Just a sec, baby. Just a — fuck….” 

The first thrust has you both moaning, your hands moving to grip at his shoulders, nails drawing crescents on his skins. You’re both on a high and he can’t control himself, each thrust getting harder than the last one as he grunts in your ear, begging you to come for him. You can hear faintly in the background the sound of the bed squeaking but the sound of your moans and of skin slapping drowns it.

“Oh, fuck…” You yelp when his fingers get in contact with your clit, rubbing it until you’re coming for the second time, back arching off the bed. 

After that he sets a sloppy rhythm, thrusting faster until he’s pressing deep inside of you with a grunt and filling you up with his release. “Fuck, Fuck —Shit.”

You whimpers when he pulls out, feeling his release falling out on the bed and your ass. He drops his head to your neck, pressing a kiss to your cheek before laughing lowly. 

He gets up after a moment and disappears into the bathroom, coming back with a small wet towel he uses to clean you up. “You need to pee?” He asks and you shake your head.

“I will in a minute.” You open your arms for him. “Come here now.” 

He does as told, falling into your arms and pressing kisses all over you. “I love you, baby.” You giggle and that makes him look at you with an intensity that wasn't there before. “I really do, you know that right? I would kill for you.” 

You look at him with glossy eyes, hands moving to his cheek. “I know.” Your thumb massages his worried eyebrows. “And I love you too.” 

He turns his head so he can kiss your hand. “Would you?” He asks before continuing. “Kill for me?” 

You think about it for a second before deciding. “I would.” And that’s final.

✸

The thing about ambition is that it never seems enough, it blinds you and the only think you can think about is more and more. 

After 3 days, Jaehyun drops a balaclava onto the hotel bed as you're balancing yourself on it and trying to paint your toenails. “What's this?“ You ask, eyebrows raising as he drops the rest of the things he bought from the closest convenience store he could find. 

“There's a small town, about 30 minutes from here.“ He starts, getting a package of oreos from the shopping bag and ripping it open with his teeth. “Apparently nothing really happens there during the weekend… and the bank closes down.“

He lets his words hang in the air. You know exactly what's he's implying, deciding to stay quiet for a minute, taking your time applying the black nail polish and keeping your eye on it as it dries. Him chomping down oreo after oreo like he didn't just suggest what he did just makes you the more antsy. “So?“

He knows you're playing dumb. “It's an opportunity.“ He replies, simple and dry, making you scoff loudly.

“An opportunity to fucking ruin our lives, is what you mean.“ Before the words are even out of your mouth he's already sighing and throwing his arms up. 

“Come on, it's gonna be eas-“

“Easy? Are you out of your mind?“ You interrupt him, blood already boiling as you close down the nail polish and get out of bed. “Do you think this is some kind of movie, huh?“ 

You try to go to the bathroom so this argument won't last as long as it seems to and hopefully give him time to drop the stupid idea, but he doesn't let you. Stepping in front of you, you can smell the oreo coming from his mouth and it mixes with the nail polish making you want to be sick. “Please, baby. Listen to me.“ He pleads and you just roll your eyes. This is insane. He looks like he's going insane. “I have it all figured out, trust me.“ 

“Yeah? Like you are some crime genius, for fucks sake.“ You whisper yell and he bites his lips in anger, trying his best not to snap at you. It would only make it worse. “It's a dumb idea, you know it.“

“Jesus, I knew you would fucking flip on me.“ He walks away from you, pinching the bride of his nose before turning to you again. 

You don't even bother replying, stomping your way to the bathroom and locking the door as he tells you to stop being fucking crazy for a second. Before any of this, your fights with Jaehyun were always about trivial things, like him leaving the lights on when he went out or you using all the hot water before he could even shower. They were still intense, with screaming and door banging, but it always ended up with one of you giving in, showering the other with affection to make up for the harsh words said. This time would be no different. 

You sit on the closed toilet, watching the black polish on your toes dry for about 5 minutes before the knock on the door comes. “Hey, baby… I'm sorry, okay?“ He says with a sigh. “Didn't mean to snap at you but I really need you to hear me out.“ 

When you don’t reply he takes it as a sign to keep going, voice low and calm. “We should - need to get more money. the amount we have right now is only enough to like,  barely pay out our debts.” His words make you slightly nervous, and only thinking about the life before this sends shivers down your spine. “If we get more we can move out of that shithole, you know? Like we talked about. We just’ need to do this and then it will be over, I promise you.” 

Sometimes you like to think about this as a vacation. So far it felt like you were in a dream and none of your previous worries could touch you here. A dangerous line of thought, you knew that, but it was easier to not know the amount of money you had so far and what the mere implication of it going wrong would imply. You had let the hard parts for Jaehyun to take care of and now he throws it at your face, even if his soft voice and promises try to blind you from it. This won’t be over so fast, or at all. 

You get up too fast, vision going black and a sting hitting your head, so when you open the door the image of him is blurred. “Tell me about the plan.” Is all you say.

-

It's not the best weather for a weekend. The grey in the sky makes for a gloomy sunday but feel like it's perfect. You Are nervous, more than the last time and you can tell Jaehyun is as well, but he holds your sweaty palm in his for the entire ride as you try not to think about all the things that could go wrong. There's a lot, but you push then aside for now. 

The city is indeed vacant, just a few convenience stores open and in your mind you think that it would be much easier to just rob one of them, but Jaehyun had argued that it would take robbing 5 stores to get what you would in a bank. He's right, you assume. You wish you had a gun right now. 

When he parks just outside the back entrance to the bank you feel like puking the oreos you had as a breakfast and your head spins with how fast you're shaking. ”I should've stayed at the hotel.” You mutter and he gives you a look. 

”I need you here.” For what, you wonder. To drive the car if you need a quick escape? To hold the bag as he puts the money inside it? To tell him it's gonna be okay even if the your gut is telling you to get out of there right now? 

You just nod, putting on the black balaclava when he hands it to you. It constricts your breathing even more, making you feel light headed but you still follow him. 

The whole thing happens in 4 quick steps that feels like forever for you. 

Jaehyun manages to get the back door open without the alarms going off and you let out a breath that almost makes you choke. It goes according to the plan, making you wonder where he learned to do this and the only coherent answer is that Yuta taught him somehow. Then he's pacing around, balaclava covering his face as he enters a room and tells you to stay at the door. You stay frozen, heart beating in your ears in an almost deafening way. You feel like a decoy, not doing anything important but hold the bag tightly on your fists. 

It's about 30 minutes before Jaehyun is walking out, wads of cash on his hand and your head does a spin again. ”Come on, open the bag.” He rushes and you do as told on automatic. That's it? It shouldn't have been so easy, It can't be. 

He puts the money there and you can see he's shaking too. You wish you could see his face right now. ”It - It worked?” Your voice is hoarse and you look at him expectantly. Then it happens. Before he can answer the sound hits your ears. The most deafening alarm and the red lights lighting up the whole place. Jaehyun mutters a low fuck, and zips the bag in a rush. 

You knew something was wrong, nothing bad should ever be that easy. You mind rushes with thoughts of how the cops got there so fast and why the alarm didn't sound when you walked in. Your eyes land on the cameras and your curse both of you for being so dumb and not thinking of that. In the back of your panic you can see Jaehyun moving trying to do god knows what and telling you to move, but you're stuck in place, legs shaking and you're sure you would fall face into to the floor if you dared to walk. It's done, there's no coming back now. 

You can see Jaehyun's mouth moving through the black mask  when he comes closer to you, but the sound of alarms and sirens are too loud, deafening even. The red lights are much brighter now.  Your hand grips the bag you're holding with much more force than needed, and there's tears on your face that you cant feel right now but it just gives the moment the touch of drama it needs. Jaehyun rushes to you, the gun in his hand pointed upwards as he cups your face, the alarms still going off and the sirens getting louder by the minute. You try to read his lips but its like your mind can't process anything, like you're in a state of shock that nothing can pull you out off. 

Was it worth it? Your mind provides. Was any of it worth it? 

Right now, at the downfall, you can only think back to the basement apartment and the job that barely managed to put food on your mouth. The lack of life on Jaehyun's eyes and how it seemed almost gone the past days. 

And there's the answer. It was. It was all worth it.

He removes the balaclava from your head, throwing it somewhere before he's gripping your face again. He presses a kiss to your cheeks, before he whispers the words in your ear. You want to protest, to fight him, but he's much stronger than you, ripping the bag from your hands and making you drop to the ground as the cold barrel of the gun presses to the side of your head. You can finally feel the tears on your face. 

What happens next is a blur, the cops burst in, guns in hand and telling Jaehyun to drop the gun and put his hands where they can see it. He tells them he will kill you if they come any closer. For a minute you wish he would, just end it already. You just want it to be over. 

He lets them get him, being thrown to the floor as they handcuff him and you let out a sob as one officer pulls you up by the elbow. ”Its okay, miss. You're safe now.” Is what he says and you almost laugh between a muffled sob. It's pathetic how they fell into it. 

You cry all the way to the police station, body shaking, almost begging for them to sedate you already. Its too much for you. You think about Jaehyun and where they are taking him right now. You don't want to live in a world without him. 

They take you to a room that is all grey after examining for any injuries.. Theres a cup of tea on the table in front of you and an officer stares you up and down. You feel heavy, cheeks stained and a headache even though you have calmed down a lot by now. 

The officer clears his throat, getting your attention. ”We understand this is a delicate situation you are in, miss. So we won't take long with the questions.” He's being too nice and you want to scoff. ”We just need to understand what went on, is that okay?”

You nod and he continues, eyeing the paper in front of him. ”What we gathered from the ordeal is that the criminal by the name Jung Jaehyun kidnapped you, is that correct?”

You swallow a lump in your throat, remembering the words he had said before it went down. The lies he said would make it better. ”Y-yes.” You lie through your teeth, and the man in front of you writes it down. ”He told - He said he needed someone to - I don't know, it was all very confusing. I can't remember.”

“Did he assault or attempted to touch you in any wa-?”

“No!” You exclaim a bit too loudly and the man gives you a look. You clear your throat and try again. “No, he did not.” 

He writes that down too and you shift anxiously in your seat. “Well, that’s all we need for now. But we’ll have to keep you around a bit longer in case something comes up, I’m sorry about that.” 

“It’s ok.” You say and then your mind acts for itself. “Can I see him?” 

You had to try, even if it sent the whole plan to the space. You didn't know when or if you would ever be able to see him again, so you had to try. The officer looks at you with pity. “Afraid not.” He says kindly. “And you shouldn't want to either, that man could have hurt you.” 

There’s a pang in your heart when you hear those words but you just hum.

✸

Orange doesn’t suit him. 

It had been a year and half now but every time you saw him in the color, it made you want to throw up. He had been sent to a prison 15 minutes away from your city, and every 20 days they would allow you to go there and visit him. 

After 6 months of only being able to see him through the thick glass and hear his voice through the phone, they finally let you really see each other during the visits. It was bittersweet, seeing him in that place, where you should be as well. But being able to touch him and just see his face made it a little better. There was only 4 years to go now. 

”Hello, pretty.” He says when you sit down on the round table, across from him You are wearing the floral dress he likes so much and it makes him smile. You wish you could kiss him, but you satisfy yourself with holding his hands. 

”How have you been?” It's always the same question, but you always have to know. He has a bit of stubble going on that you think suits him very well.

”You know, same old, same old. Started reading that book you brought in last time.” Last time had been 5 weeks ago, because you couldn't contain yourself and started an argument and didn't want to see him for all that time. You both ignore that now, deciding to enjoy what little time you have together. ”Missed you like crazy.”

Longing. That's what his eyes are full of when he looks at you and your heart hurts the same way it did almost 2 years ago. The same way it hurts everyday. ”Please don't say that.” You whispers, avoiding his eyes.

Sometimes you wish you could just go back to that sketchy motel room in the middle of nowhere. With the champagne and the silk dress. But that was a long time ago and now you must pay the price for it. 

He changes the subject for you. ”Is Yuta treating you well?”

”Yeah, he's fine.” You had been staying with Yuta since it all happened, trying to stay as low as you possibly could in fear of the consequences of the lawsuit you got yourself in. Yuta had been nice enough to let you stay at his house, but you knew he felt a little guilty for guiding Jaehyun in that stupid plan. 

A man knocks on the glass door suddenly, signaling that your time is almost over, and Jaehyun's hold on your hand gets a bit tighter. 

”Promise me you'll come next time?” How could you say no when it hurts you just as much as it does him if you don't. ”Please.”

”I promise.” You say, squeezing his hand in return. ”I will do anything for you, Jae.”

That night when you lay down in bed you think back to the day he told you about the plan, how he held you in his arms as you cried. Back then you thought you would never feel  as miserable as that again. 

When you close your eyes you dream of lasagna leftovers, the taste of cigarettes on your lips and Jung Jaehyun with a gun on his hand.. 

[septiembrre]

Brio #4 a hug after not seeing someone for a long time pls

Ruby & Beth come back from a well-deserved vacation, at least 15 years overdue.

I really thought this was the easy prompt out of the bunch. I thought for sure this one would be just 500 words, a neat and contained ficlet. Oh well, it’s 3k. 

I tagged some folks at the bottom, but just because I tagged you doesn’t mean you have to read it, but there’s a note for you down there in case you get around to it. I’m being a brat and posting too much and I know everyone’s busy with their week. Also, what is this hellish October?

Also here on AO3

-----

So I Come To You, My Love

Beth is itchy, impatient ever since they boarded the plane to go home. Or maybe since they made it to the airport… or rather, since she woke up before dawn, her mind racing with anticipation of her 11 am flight.

Ruby had gotten up, wandered somnolent into the kitchen for coffee, and promptly been accosted with the sight of Beth sitting at the kitchen table of their rental with her pile of suitcases fully packed and ready to go. Ruby had rolled her eyes to high heaven and asked aloud for patience.

At this point, Beth was too twitchy to be apologetic, the airport calling to her like a beacon from afar.  

Ruby had known that it was only the beginning.

She had shaken her head as they flew along in their rideshare to the airport,  Beth silent, taciturn, and unable to make any small talk with their cheerful driver asking them indulgent questions about their trip. She had rubbed Beth’s shoulder as Beth sighed, loudly, multiple times in the line for security, in line for boarding. She had watched as Beth’s eyes had darted to the time on her cell and tracked the clocks ticking on the airport walls. 

Again, Ruby had prayed, Heavenly Father, please give me the patience and understanding to not harm Elizabeth Marks, my aforementioned best friend, on this eight-hour flight. Please bring us safely to our journey’s end. 

Eventually, they settled on the plane and Ruby… Ruby needed a break. Beth and all of her fidgeting were giving her friend nervousness by osmosis. They should have anticipated it, of course. That this is how their fabulous, three-week, best-friend vacation was doomed to end -- in an anxious fizzle.

So, Ruby went about her process. She popped her ZzzQuil and put on her Nidra eye mask (or as Annie would say, “her eye bra”). Then, she wrapped herself up the plush blanket she had purchased for maximum airplane luxury, fully reclined her first-class seat, and adamantly went to sleep. 

It’s in this purgatory that Beth finds herself waiting. 

Waiting.

And still waiting.

At first, she tries to watch a movie, and it plays as told on the screen in front of her for two hours. She barely hears a word. Then, she tries to sleep, too. 

But, no dice.

And she can’t exactly complain and blame it on the flying experience when she’s sitting in first class. The trip, an international vacation to France, had already been the fanciest thing Beth and Ruby had ever done. They had taken three weeks off from work to do it and that time was a luxury in itself. So, when Stan and Rio had combined husband-partner powers (HPP as Ruby and Beth had toasted to, giggling on the first flight across the ocean) and surprised them, upgrading their seats to first-class… It had been the cherry on top of the icing on the cake. 

But, despite all the makings for premium comfort, Beth ends up bringing her seatback upright. 

Instead, she passes the time, tapping her heel and staring off into space. 

While she knows rationally it’s not true, it feels like the longest eight hours of her life. The last half of the flight stretches out before her but this experience certainly wasn’t as long as any of her births, or as stressful as even half of the situations they had gotten themselves into while criming these past four years. 

But, Beth doesn’t ever really do well with prolonged absences from Rio. The anxiety of what it meant before -- ghosting, getting cleaved from the business -- is still something they are working to break from the patterns of their relationship, something Rio is still trying to unlearn as being his go-to answer to emotional conflict. 

But, historically it had unfolded the other way around. There had never been a precedent of Beth being the one to smoke bomb out for a few weeks...

Of course, she wasn’t smoke bombing anywhere, slipping away into the ether. This was a long-planned vacation, months in the making, decades in the dreaming. There had been careful plotting to adjust the slack in the printing schedule and there had been deliberate calendering with the children’s summer activities. And well, Rio knew where to find her -- both where her rental was in Paris and where she more permanently lived (with him). 

And it’s not like they hadn’t talked every morning and every night and sometimes in between of these past three weeks

God, she feels clingy and codependent and too much like her teenagers. Ruby had called Stan half as much. 

And she’s still itchy. 

…And kind of oily now?

She keeps scratching at a spot on one of her shoulders, at her palms, blotting at her face.

The people around her are going to think she has some sort of disease.

Except for Ruby, who knows. 

So, Beth sits there, tapping, scratching, sighing into the void of time. 

And it shouldn’t be so much of a surprise when a little more than halfway through the flight, Ruby’s hand emerges from its blanket cocoon to clamp down on Beth’s jiggling leg. Regardless, Beth all but levitates a foot into the air, gasping. 

“Chill out.” 

Beth takes a deep breath and tries her best. 

Then, she blows out a raspberry. “I can’t.” 

Ruby rips off her eye mask, sighing loudly.  “You’re such a newlywed.” 

“That’s the thing,” Beth says glumly. “We’re not even married.”

“Do you want to be?” Ruby looks over at her best friend, brow furrowed. And she wonders for the millionth time the question she won’t actually voice out loud, What did Rio’s dick do to her friend?

Beth looks back at Ruby, then her gaze shifts away, “No--” It comes out in upspeak, like a question and unsure. She swallows, and tries again, “No.” 

Ruby widens her eyes at Beth who cringes, folding into herself. Then, Beth shifts anxiously in her seat, avoiding Ruby’s gaze. “No, I don’t really… care.” Then, Beth grimaces, realizing it obviously sounds like she cares.

“Oh-kay.”

“I just--” Beth starts defensively, “Three weeks has been a long time to be away from home.” 

The trip was wonderful, a literal dream -- one they’ve dreamt of since high school. But, the three weeks have been a long time, for both of them.

Beth continues, “I’d do it again in a heartbeat but now that we’ve been, maybe two weeks next time.”

Ruby nods. “I can’t wait to see Stanley. Ugh, to hug Harry.” She hugs her own arms around herself picturing embracing her son. “Sara…” Ruby purses her lips. “Can stay at her photography camp.” 

Beth rocks in to nudge her shoulder against Ruby’s, chiding. “You missed her.” 

“Let’s just say that I’m glad I took the higher road and got her those damn macarons she wanted.” 

“I’m glad we ended up doing that, too. The kids are going to be thrilled, especially Emma.”

Ruby shakes her head fondly. “I love that child. Forever my favorite nibling.” 

“Yeah, well Sara is my favorite niece, so don’t be too hard on her.”

Ruby scoffs. “She’s your only niece.”

“And you know, she’s had weeks now to think about it. She’s probably feeling very sorry she said all those things before you left.” Beth consoles, reaching over to hold Ruby’s hand. “Knowing Stan, he’s probably worked his magic on her and you’ll go back and be a perfect family again.”

Ruby shakes her head, then turns against the seat to look at Beth, all charm, “So, who’s your favorite nephew?”

Now it’s Beth’s turn to scoff, “You know Annie would kill me if I didn’t say Ben.” 

“Well, she’s not here.” 

Beth rolls her eyes. “You know Benjamin is as perfect a child as they come. But, I never see him anymore. He’s always off with his friends and suddenly too old to hang out with his younger cousins, too cool to hang out with his favorite aunt-- and you know I’m not good with teenagers.” Beth shrugs. “And Harry’s eight and a mini version of Stan. It’s just not a fair fight.”  

 Ruby smiles, pleased, “I’m going to tell Annie.”

“You can’t tell Annie. I told you that under the assurance of secrecy.”

“Bitch, I didn’t give you no assurance.”

Beth sticks her tongue out at Ruby. Ruby scowls at her back. Then, they settle again. 

“You have plans with gang boo? Oh, excuse me-- Christopher…” Ruby trills. “--Since you’re anxious as all get out.”

Beth arches back against the seat, fidgeting again. “I’m not anxious.”

Ruby levels her with a look.

“I’m not.”  

There’s a beat where Ruby continues to stare at Beth, waiting. Beth rocks her jaw and looks away.

“Why don’t you just text him?” 

“I already did when we got on the plane.” 

“So… message him again?” 

Beth cants her head low, letting her hair fall to obscure her face. 

“He’s being… you know how he is.”

“I… do but I’m not sure I want to know what that means.” Ruby pauses, sitting with it. “Oh my god.” She clamps her hand down again, this time on Beth’s wrist. “Does he want you to take naked pictures in the bathroom?”

Beth tries to snatch her arm away, flailing in the seat.

“What if Delta sees your nudes?! Please, tell me you did not do that in that sardine box ten feet away from me, Elizabeth. Marks.” 

“I didn’t. I would never.” 

Someone a row over shushes them. 

Ruby relinquishes her grip to press at her eyebrows. “Y’all are too much.” 

Beth shrugs. “He really liked those caftans we bought at that boutique.”  

Ruby considers that, thinking about how much she underestimated Christopher Aguilar’s capacity to love her friend. Sometimes it just really is too much to think about. “You got a special night planned?” 

“No,” Beth says shortly. 

“Mm.” Ruby nods along. “You know that man’s not going to let you out of bed, right?”

Beth flushes, squirming again in her seat. And she feels awkward talking about it, but, God, she hopes so?

“When are you picking up your kids again?” 

“Tomorrow night.”

Ruby tsks and looks at Beth knowingly. 

“You really don’t want to try to get some sleep? You’re gonna need it. Hell, I’m gonna need it and here you are keeping me up.” 

Beth laughs shortly. “You’re one to talk about not getting out of bed. Stan literally wrote you an ode last week.” 

Ruby smiles, something soft, small, and happy. “He was trying to compete with Paris.” Then she says, playful. “Almost twenty-five years of marriage and I still got it.” 

Beth looks at her friend and opens her mouth looking for the words. She turns to search Ruby’s face and tries to be vulnerable.

Her voice comes out small and a little desperate, “Do you really think he missed me?”

Ruby snorts. “I’m honestly surprised he didn’t show up in Paris to crash our trip. The man’s a genie. A genie with a lot of dinero.”

And it’s flattering, the image of Rio flying across the world to find her. Of course, he had stayed right where she left him -- in Detroit, in the middle of nailing down some business with one of his bars -- while she and Ruby fulfilled the dream they had for twenty years now. 

It was... something, really something to be flush with cash, for all of the people she loved to be rolling in the riches, to have enough to afford anything she wanted. Security -- what a concept.

But, quickly enough she is so greedy. Beth is already calculating when it would be realistically feasible for her and Rio to take time off together for a trip of their own (maybe a beach this time).  

Beth lets out a long, deep sigh.

“B, that man was glued to his phone for any and every picture or text you would send him about what you were doing. He woke up at some god awful time to tell you ‘Good Morning’ and cleared his schedule every day at 5 pm to call you at the end of ours. He missed you.” 

She whispers. “I missed him, too.” 

“I know,” Ruby says dryly. Suddenly, her hand flies up to push the button for the attendant. 

Beth looks at Ruby nonplussed, as the attendant makes their way down the aisle to their seats. 

Ruby eyes Beth sternly. “We still have two hours on this airplane and we are going to make the most of it. It’s still our vacation and you need to hold your shit together.” 

Pep talk over, she smiles wide at the flight attendant and requests, “Two mimosas, please!”

----

It’s more than two mimosas. When their flight finally lands, Beth and Ruby don’t walk in the straightest line up the jet bridge. 

They pause just out of their gate, a big sense of feeling bringing both of them to a standstill. Tipsy, relieved to be off the plane, and home again, vibrant in this feeling of togetherness with each other, they embrace. 

“Thank you, friend.”

“I hate your face.”

“I hate your face.”

“God, I never want to see your face again.”

They loosen their hold, dab at their wet eyes. 

“Thank you for Paris.”

They tear up all over again. 

-----

Once they make it out of their gate, Ruby and Beth stop to use the bathroom. Beth takes the opportunity to smooth out her hair, dab some cold water at her blotchy cheeks, and reapply some deodorant. 

She thinks she’s going to jump out of her skin. 

Ruby brushes her teeth, and Beth inspired does so, too. They apply lip balm on their chapped lips. Beth pinches color into her cheeks, as Ruby laughs, “He sees you on the daily first thing in the morning. Or do you pull a Midge Maisel on him?”

Beth sticks out her tongue. 

As they get ready to move on and Ruby gets a call from Stan, who reports that they are there waiting outside of customs. 

Beth all but runs to the international baggage claim, Ruby trailing behind her, watching her best friend with great amusement and a little secondhand embarrassment but she’s excited, too. They get in line at customs, and blessedly it isn’t long and they don’t have enough to declare. Quick enough, they’re buzzing through the doors that announce no return entry. 

On the other side are escalators leading them up from the bottom-most level -- international arrivals only -- to the ground floor. Beth files in with her suitcases, behind Ruby.

And as they move further up the escalator, they can spot Stan and Rio waiting for them at the top. 

Beth turns to Ruby, “Store on Monday?”

Who nods back, “Store on Monday.”

As they get closer, Beth drinks Rio in and something unsnarls in her soul. He’s in a black t-shirt, his jeans, and a pair of his typically sharp shoes -- dressed for Detroit in June. Her eye zero in on his ink, visible on his neck, the stretch of skin exposed on his arms, his hands clenched at his sides, the scruff on his face. Video has come a long way but, she’s relieved to see him in real detail. She’s relieved that in seconds she’ll be able to touch him, relieved to see that particular warm look in his eyes, the embers in person. 

Beth can’t help it -- a smile stretches wide across her face. It really hasn’t been that long, she’s spent decades without him, but she feels giddy, goofy, effervescent. She could float right up to the top of the escalator, straight into his arms. But, gravity is real and she has to wait her turn.

Ruby walks off to greet her Stanley.

And Beth walks up to Rio. He reaches forward to pull her luggage to the side and she pauses in front of him. The magnetism of the inches between their bodies is electric, more dizzying than the champagne on the flight. He just looks so good. 

He beams back at her, smiling wide. In the periphery of her vision, she can see his hands twitching.

And-- good.

Beth thinks she could fuck him now, drag him into a bathroom somewhere, but all she wants to do is kiss him. 

So, she does. 

She steps closer, brushing her nose with his (and doesn’t that feel new? And absurdly tender?). Her lips touch his. And God, it’s soft and she’s smiling into it, and he is, too. He tastes like the mint tea he probably had after lunch. And she has the brief thought that they’re so… dumb. He’s thirty-nine this year and she’s in her mid-forties and honestly, this is ridiculous for their age. It’s only been days and they had so much phone sex. But, this real-life thing, it feels so good.

It’s overwhelming. It’s perfect. 

Rio curls his arms around her, smart hands sliding down to palm her ass as he brings her as close as possible. Her hands clutch the back of his neck, feeling the skin there, smelling the musky scent of his cologne, as they cling to each other. One of her hands wanders to trace the sharp prickliness of his buzz cut, and the other one of his twines along the nape of her neck. Heat curls deep in her core, flaring with the feel of him. 

Eventually, they part for air.  Beth nuzzles Rio’s scruff. 

Rio laughs loud, head rolling back and shoulders shaking. Gorgeous. 

“Baby,” he looks at her, biting his lip. “You taste like a bottle.”

Beth gasps, insulted. “I brushed my teeth!” 

“Okay, champ.” He kisses her again, short this time. “You gonna be able to make it home?”

Then, she kisses him again, playfully pushing her tongue in his mouth. He’s panting when they part. And she can’t help it, she’s beaming. 

“The question is, are you?”

-----

The fanfiction I read influences my writing so much. The intertextual winks that stood out to me in this one: 

@sothischickshe -- genie word choice ;-)  

@foxmagpie for the word ‘CANT’? Girl, were you the first person to wordsmith this? I think you were and it’s the perfect description for half the things Rio does with his jaw. This time I appropriated it for Beth. 

[extremelyblackandwhite]

the unseen one - 25

 Pairing: Hades!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: y/n and bucky fight

A/N: ik braid sewing was way more popular in roman culture than in greek one but i personally love it and it’s probably the one way i can get my hair to stay put whenever i go on a run. hope you enjoy xx

Next Chapter

Y/N was homesick. 

Ever since the dinner all she could think about was the mortal realm, the sounds of rain hitting the glass of her window as she cuddled under her large duvet, her old kettle steaming from the hob, Anne’s laughter and countless tellings of various failed love attempts, the children in her kindergarten, all of it. This wasn’t to say she didn’t enjoy Bucky’s company, she loved it, she loved having him around but the thought of being confined here forever without ever getting to see at least her flat again terrified her. 

Another day had started in the Underworld and per usual Bucky was the first up on his feet and out to prepare the Spring Festival necessities while Y/N was left behind. There wasn’t much to do rather than ever so slightly meeting with Hecate who had started to just plain ignore her existence whenever she visited the Elysium, speaking with Psyche whenever she unceremoniously was thrown into the Underworld by her mother in law and walk the river Styx’s shores. Y/N had returned to the kitchen, placing James’ kettle on the stove and grabbing a mug as she sat on the balcony, losing herself on her own thoughts and only being removed from it by the kettle steaming out of control. She jumped from the balcony feeling her feet weirdly tingle, which was ignored fast as she grabbed the white mug and the kettle, pouring hot water onto it. The weight of it proved somehow to be too much for her and before she could act on it, she let go of the mug, loosing strength in her hand and the once silent atmosphere was filled by the shattering sound of porcelain. 

     - Shit. - she mumbled as she leaned down to grab the big shards, putting them on top of the balcony, before bracing her hands on the edge of it, forcefully shutting her eyes. One of the servants, alarmed by the sound, came rushing in, immediately grabbing a mop and brush. - It’s alright, I can clean it. 

    - We don’t want you to hurt yourself, m’am. - the man smiled at her before dismissing her from the kitchen. Y/N climbed up to her bedroom, getting dressed in a regular beige dress before going out of the house, basket in arms. She thought about collecting some plants for the house and so she made her way to the Elysium. 

The sound and smell of nature at its bloom immediately brought a smile back to her face. Some trees had begin to show its fruits and most of the flowers were in bloom. She collected some flowers and fruits before taking a seat on one patch of grass watching the souls carelessly live their life. However one particular soul caught her attention. 

    - Mum? - she furrowed her brows, lips slightly parted as she got onto her feet watching a figure that looked particular like her mother. - Mum! 

She dropped her basket, bunching the fabric of her dress in her hands as she rushed over to the figure. It was her mother, it looked like her mother, the same hair, the same eyes and the same warming smile she got whenever she rushed into her bedroom after a terrifying nightmare as a child. Her mother however looked at her like she didn’t know her, turning on her back to join some other souls.

    - Mum! - Y/N called out once again but her mother only ignored her and soon enough she could feel her tears rolling down her cheek. - Mum, please

    - Y/N. - a familiar voice called out her name. She turned around to see the redhead goddess of witchcraft with a worried look on her face, she could even say care. - She doesn’t remember you, Y/N. Elysium souls have no recollection of their mortal lives. 

    - But she’s my mum. How can she not know who I am? - Hecate’s heart clenched at the words that sounded way too similar to those once spoken by James once he became the King of the Underworld. She tightened her lips, patting the girl on her shoulder and handing her the basket she had previously dropped.

    - We should probably go meet Hades. - she put her other hand on her shoulder, successfully removing her from here she was standing and taking her to the path that led to where she had least seen James which was in the Fates domain within the Elysium. The Fates’ side of the Elysium was always something rather odd, even for Hecate. Y/N watched as they passed halls and halls of name boxes with several coloured orbs.

    - What are those? - she pointed to the orbs that were inside the box containing James’ name, her curiosity perking up. 

   - Memory orbs. The Fates control and keep every single memory experienced by a god or mortal, I’ve heard their colour determine what type of memory. 

   - I think I wanna look around. - Y/N stated and Hecate stopped to pounder. She probably would be able to find the god of the dead quicker if Y/N wasn’t stopping every inch of the way to question about something that sparked her interest. 

   - Okay but stay here, don’t go wandering off! - she sternly said before going off her way to find James. Y/N watched as her figure disappeared in the hall and immediately rushed to James box, carefully pushing it out onto her arms and then onto the floor. Her eyes shined as she looked at the pretty colours flow inside the orbs, a special red one calling for her attention. Y/N knew she shouldn’t pick it, she shouldn’t be curious, these were James’ memories and she shouldn’t be lurking on them but her curiosity got the best of her and she immediately grabbed the red orb. What she wasn’t expecting was the sudden feeling on her left arm, almost feeling it being teared off which made her drop the orb onto the ground. Hand flying to hold her left arm as the orb rolled a bit away from her, flashes of someone screaming Bucky’s name and the harsh feeling of cold snow and sorrow rushing through her as if they were her memory. She stared at it, unbelieving to what had just happened and to the pain that had lodged itself on her left arm yet nothing was harming her and no injury was seen in sight. 

   - Y/N? - she heard James’ voice and immediately tried to place the orb back on its box which only made the pain return which in turn made her drop the orb once again. In no time James’ had localised her, his eyes going from the box with his name and the red orb on the floor to Y/N’s laying against the shelf of boxes, her hand holding onto her left shoulder. His lips tightened as he crutched down to where she was laying. - What are you doing?

   - I saw my mum. - she decided to sway the topic but the one she had swayed to somehow hurt her. - She didn’t know me. 

   - Don’t take it personally, sunflower. - he kissed her temple, flesh hand coming to caress her cheek. - It happens to everyone. My parents, my sister, even my friend don’t remember who I am.

   - Why? Why do you make them forget if they’re in paradise?

   - I guess the memory of leaving their loved ones in the mortal realm pains them too much. Would work more like a punishment. 

   - What about you? Isn’t that punishment to you too?

   - No, sunflower. I remember them all.

   - That’s not what I mean ... they don’t remember you. - she leaned her head against the bookcase, staring into his blue eyes. - Isn’t that too harsh of a punishment for a god?

   - The only punishment is being alive, sunflower. Not forgetfulness, not remembering, it’s still being alive after so long.

   - James ... - she took her hand way from her shoulder to cup his cheek, caressing it ever so slightly. She brought her face closer to him, lightly pecking his lips. 

   - We should go, this is no place for you. - he cleared his throat, getting up from his sitting position and offering her his hand. She however did not take it, still feeling the ghost pain in her left arm. - It’s not real, Y/N. You are okay.

   - I can feel it. - she looked up through her lashes at him. - What happened?

   - It’s not important.

   - Why do you always do that? - she knew she shouldn’t be mad, heck he should be the one mad at her but with all that had happened today so far, something in her snapped. - Why do you always tell me it’s not important when it clearly is? Don’t you trust me?

   - Of course I do, sunflower. You just don’t need to know about my past, it’s irrelevant. 

   - Is that memory the one of how you lost your arm? - she pressed him, looking away from his arm to the orb. - Is that what happened? 

   - Y/N, don’t question me. Come up. 

   - You are not the boss of me. - she ignored the hand he had offered to her, instead holding onto one of the shelf’s wooden bars and getting up by herself, storming off. 

   - Y/N, stop. - Bucky took the tone he normally took with his employees which immediately made her stop and turn to look at him before storming off again in a huff. - Y/N, cut it off. Damn it, I’m ordering you to stop. 

   - You’re not ordering me to do anything. You’re not my King and you will not talk to me as if you were. 

   - There is a lot of stuff that you don’t understand, Y/N. 

   - Then explain it to me. - she almost begged him. 

   - I cant.

   - Why not?

   - BECAUSE YOU WOULDN’T LOVE ME IF I FUCKING DID, Y/N. - he held her forearms, looking at her with what looked like tears starting to accumulate near the corner of his eyes, ready to roll down his cheeks. - You don’t know half of it and if you did you wouldn’t have spoken to me.

   - I would. 

   - No, you ...

   - I know you were the Winter Soldier. - she blurted out casually, almost as if she was talking about the weather. Truth was she knew, after he had told her about Steve it didn’t take long for the memories of when she went to the museum to hit her. She knew an abbreviated form of the story, not exactly what he’d been through, but she knew. Bucky was taken aback by her statement, blue eyes wide staring at her. - I know you were the Winter Soldier and I love you.

Bucky was still staring at her, eyes fully wide as his brain still processed those words. She knew. Well, of course she knew, it wasn’t like she hadn’t grown up in the new age of superheroes. She just, she just didn’t appear to be the type of woman to care much for that. Yet there she was, arms crossed across her chest, calm complexion. 

   - Say something. - she bite onto her lip nervously. She let go of her crossed arm position, slowly padding towards him, her hand trailing from his metal one to his shoulder, fingers dancing on the place where metal met flesh. - Please. 

   - What do you want me to say? - he leaned his head on her touch, thoughts running through his mind of how his fellow deities would react to him being this submissive to a mortal of no god birth or immortal blood. - Because I sincerely don’t know what to tell you, Y/N. 

    - Do you wanna tell me how it happened? I know how it felt and I’d rather hear it from you.

   - Not today. - he kissed the top of her head. - I will, just not today. 

Y/N left Bucky to do his work despite his complaints of wanting to be with her after seeing her mother. She knew better about not messing with the Spring Festival which was fast approaching. The sooner it got, the least she saw of James with all the preparations and meeting with Zeus that Bucky wouldn’t let her hear or even be nearby. Soon enough, it was only one day until the Spring Festival and Hecate had invited her to be with her nymphs for the opening ceremony, something she had been rather excited over as that meant she wouldn’t have to mingle with the rest of the gods and goddesses who mostly did not enjoy her presence or the fact she was with the King of the Underworld. 

Y/N excitingly opened the box Hecate had delivered to James’ home in the early morning, happy to see what she was wearing. Following what the Charon and other nymphs had discussed with her, every nymph wore a colour and a flower in order to honour the goddess of spring and the harvest. As she removed the protective silk paper from the gown, she noticed her colour was white and in a smaller box near the dress was a hair crown of white roses. She guessed it made sense, considering the flower seemed to haunt her.

The day couldn’t come sooner and much to Bucky’s dismay Y/N was out the door in the morning, box in hand and headed to the Elysium, specially Persephone’s groves. All the nymphs were getting ready, laughter and song in the air along with various flowers thrown on the floor giving the dead nature of the grooves some sort of happiness. 

Y/N took to getting herself dressed before taking a place in one of the free vanities to do her hair. She looked around looking at the nymphs happily pining, curling and sewing their hair away in unbelievably hard hairstyles. Y/N tried her best to pull her hair up only to sigh and lean against her chair. 

       - I’ll give you hand. - Hecate walked from behind her, her stoic look still present on most her features as she grabbed the silver brush from the vanity. Y/N understood why Hecate wasn’t a fan of her, she, after all, was extremely passionate over her domains and protecting everything. 

      - Thank you. - she watched her reflection in the mirror as Hecate divided her hair in two and braided each section. Following, she grabbed a needle and white yarn, sewing the two braids together and upwards in what looked like a singular double braid that now wrapped itself around the lower part of her head from ear to ear. Hecate placed the brush on the vanity grabbing the crown of fresh white roses and placing it upon her head.

     - You’re all set. Come on. - Hecate rushed her to walk into where the celebrations were to set place. In the middle of the beautiful greenery there was a porcelain mast with various coloured ribbons which was started to being surrounded by various deities. - All the nymphs of the Underworld get a coloured ribbon the same as their gown and dance around the mast, wrapping the ribbon around it until it snaps. The ribbon that doesn’t snap is decided maiden of the harvest and gets to crown someone to be her consort with their own flower crown. The pair gets the first dance.

      - Oh, I’m a terrible dancer.

      - You probably won’t get it. You’d have to be greatly in favour of Gaia in order to get it. - she tightened her lips. - However, in the slightest chance you get the honour of being chosen maiden, remember to pick Apollo, Priapus even. Any of the gods related to the act of love and beauty will suffice, it’s good to be in their graces.

Y/N stood in line with the other nymphs, her eyes scouting the crowd for her Bucky, but it was him who found her first, watching from afar as some minor gods spoke of various new achievements and demigods they’re fathered. However, now that he had spotted her, he was much more interested in looking at her unless of listening to them. He watched as she scurried around like a nervous little nymph to the mast, grabbing the white ribbon and finally took in her whole appearance, judging her to be officially the prettiest of all living things. Hecate ordered Apollo and his muses to start the sweet music that filled Elysium’s air which made the nymphs and Y/N start to go around the pole. 

Her eyes left the pole for a few seconds, watching as every single god and goddess of the Greek pantheon watched in awe before immediately turning to look at the pole, watching the pink and purple ribbons snap away causing some disgruntled noises for a few moments. One by one most ribbons snapped away until hers and a blue one were the only ones standing. Y/N sighed, ready to go back to James, expecting her to be the next one to snap until the sound of ripping fabric removed her from her thoughts. However, instead of seeing her own arm freed from the ribbon, she watched as the last blue ribbon laid on the ground and her own still tightly wrapped around her wrist. 

She quickly unwrapped the ribbon of her wrist, quickly massaging it before bringing both hands to take her own rose crown off her head as she stared at the crowd in front of her like a deer in headlights. A few gods cleared their throats, smirks on their faces, clearly expecting the honour to be bestowed upon them. Hecate’s words rang like heavy bells in her head but she was never one to follow them and soon enough she found herself walking towards the exact and only person she knew would be worth such bestowment. Next to him, stood Ares and Zeus who quite conceitedly took a step forward only to wide their eyes as the mortal woman who had just been chosen by Gaia’s forces to be the maiden of the harvest placed her white rose crown confidently upon the head of the God of the Underworld.

     - Now, what about that. - she could hear the goddess of love and beauty mumble under her breathe, somehow being the only deity not surprised by the odd choice. How ironic the maiden of the harvest had picked someone who did not even harvest the souls he ruled over. James rather surprisingly took her hand in his, guiding her to the middle of the circle the gods had created, turning his body to face hers. 

     - I can’t dance. - she whispered under her breath, ashamed anyone but him could hear it. 

     - I can dance well enough for both of us, sunflower.

tag list: @philogrobizedvee​​​​​​  @keithseabrook27​​​​​ @inlovewith3​​​​19 @nwbstan​ @romanoffs-heart​

[funkzpiel]

I feel like at some point on the road, Jaskier would have been like, 'I thought Witchers didn't need to eat as much as ordinary folks,' and Geralt would have been like, 'Well, we can starve for a lot longer,' and Jaskier would have been kind of irrationally angry about it for a while.

More Geralt whump? Fuck yes. Thank you for the prompt, I love it.

Jaskier didn’t notice – not at first, not for a long time. Despite his frequent travels with the white wolf of Rivia, he had never even thought to ask. Something entirely unexpected for a man as chatty as himself and it would not be the first or last time Jaskier kicked himself for not noticing. He had always assumed that witchers had very slow metabolisms or some other strange mutation that allowed them to better digest and absorb nutrients and make the benefits of meals last longer. After all, Geralt rarely ate.

Perhaps ‘rarely’ was too strong a word, Jaskier admitted, but even so he could remember just as many instances in which Geralt didn’t eat as he did.

But it wasn’t until he found himself sharing a fire with the man one night that the question finally came to him. It had been a long ride with few breaks; a ride that had immediately devolved into a fierce fight with a creature Geralt had been contracted to handle, quickly followed by another rough ride when the blasted thing had managed to fly away, wounded and bleeding. Thankfully it had left quite a trial to follow, low as it had been flying and bleeding as it had been – but it meant that the two of them were running off of fumes and Jaskier, for one, was unused to it.

Well, no. Not unused to it. He had known hunger in his younger days, back when he had first left Oxenfurt to start his travels as a bard. Fame did not come without its prices – unless one had a very generous benefactor to start with, of course. And the price had been crude, cruel and simple: play for free, get his name out there, and starve until his music had the hearts of enough folk tied around his fingers that he might then play for pay. He wasn’t always hungry, of course. There had been more than one maid or village lass who had taken pity on him, in love with his blue eyes and silver tongue in that way young ladies – bored with village life – tended to sometimes be. But he had known hunger and cold.

Even though the years had been long since those meager days, even now he could not help but think ‘I remember worse hunger pains’. That didn’t mean he enjoyed it though. And if Jaskier was good at anything – singing and writing and general charisma aside – it was whining and surviving.

He plucked the fluffiest bits of his bread from within the hardened crust of the loaf he had in his pack and moaned as that first tuff nearly melted in his mouth – too stale from riding to be properly soft, but hunger had blurred that line of reasoning into something far more fantastical and pleased.

“Gods above, I love bread,” Jaskier all but moaned, slumping on his log as if the taste alone had rendered him useless. He fluttered his lashes. Geralt grunted.

“Come now, Geralt. Even you with all your witcherly stoicism can’t deny that there’s nothing quite as good as bread after days of starving,” Jaskier pointedly out, plucking another chunk of bread and placing it on his tongue with another lewd moan – now purposefully so.

Geralt rolled his eyes, face canted down toward the fire as he stoked it with a stick, ensuring that the logs lay just right for the best flame. Jaskier continued on, too merry from his meal to stay his tongue.

“Food’s always best when drunk or starving,” he mused.

He remembered lectures about that, at some point in Oxenfurt. His studies, while fundamentally focused around literature in general, had varied. A good writer needed to know a little of everything, after all, and he was nothing if not thorough when it came to his craft. He could still remember an old bore of a professor going on and on about a human’s instinct to survive and that, when starving, food was often times described by patients to be far richer or more delicious than normal – even if that food was in fact bland or stale or generally something the patient might detest in regular circumstances. The body recognizes the necessity of eating, numbs the mind of any factors that might keep them from eating, and therefore everything tastes as if it had been delivered from the heavens themselves.

“Agreed,” Geralt said, setting his stick aside to stand. Jaskier watched him with childish passivity as the witcher went to Roach, filled a feed harness with grain or whatever it was he tended to give the ol’girl, and went about attaching it to her head so she might eat – obviously reminded of the task by their conversation. Then he attended to Jaskier’s horse as well, Daisy. That made something fond prickle in Jaskier’s chest.

“It’s stale and I don’t even care,” Jaskier continued to babble, breaking the hard crust off piece by piece now as he continued to consume his meal. Geralt grunted again, crouched by his pack again, and despite Jaskier’s assumption that the man was now finally fetching his own meal, the witcher instead returned to his place at the fire with his sword, a rag and some oils – and surprisingly no whet stone.

Jaskier rose his brows.

“Really, Geralt? I know you witchers have a frankly unhealthy relationship with your swords, but it can wait. Aren’t you hungry? Tired?”

Amber eyes met his overtop the brilliant flames of their fire. They seemed paler somehow, but the fire made it quickly difficult to hold the man’s gaze; even moreso to make out fine details. Otherwise Jaskier might have seen the hollows of Geralt’s cheeks beneath his riding stubble, or the dark circles that had made a home of the space beneath his eyes. Might have noticed he was paler than usual.

But he didn’t.

“Hmm,” Geralt said, eyes dropping back to his sword as he oiled his rag and began the lengthy process of cleaning it with the meticulousness of a witcher.

That gave Jaskier pause. He had seen the man fight. Geralt had described the Churt as a young adult, even though Jaskier couldn’t have imagined a larger Churt in his life. The point being: the Churt had been no babe, and while Geralt was a witcher of immeasurable skill, the beast had done its fair share of harm in turn. With the bend of its wing it had struck such a blow on Geralt’s right shoulder blade that it had tossed the witcher across a small clearing and into a try. Jaskier hadn’t imagined the wet pop he had heard at the time, nor had he imagined the gash the thing had landed on Geralt’s thigh and hip when it swooped down from above, talons first.

Geralt had excused himself to wash the worst of the fight off in a river, leaving Jaskier to settle Roach and start the process of picking up flammable tinder for the fire – something that once upon a time, he never would have trusted the bard to do. It made a little bloom of warmth grow in his chest at the thought even as dread slowly but surely began to curl in his gut.

He hadn’t seen Geralt take any salves or wrappings to the river. And if Jaskier was tired from riding without food, he could only imagine how ravenous he might feel after riding and slaying a Churt on just as empty a stomach.

“Geralt, come on,” he repeated, the cheer he had felt from his bread now weak in his tone. “You should really eat something.”

“M’fine,” the man said, focused on his task.

Jaskier felt his brows pucker into the slightest frown and not for the first time cursed Geralt for the wrinkles he would no doubt get because of the stubborn witcher and his stupid concepts of logic and reason – aka, his utter lack of either when it came to simple matters of health, wellbeing and general comfort.

Witchers, honestly.

But not for the first time Jaskier tried to quell his sharp tongue if, for no other reason, because he himself was not a witcher and sometimes they were able to do extraordinary things due to their mutations. He tried to keep his tone light as he asked, “Are witchers able to digest their food more slowly or something?”

Geralt snorted, but under the crackle of the fire Jasker could not tell if it was the white wolf’s attempt at a chuckle or not. Jaskier plucked another bit of bread from his loaf, stuck it in his mouth and looked at the witcher pointedly – expecting a real answer.

Geralt grunted, cleared his throat in a manner Jaskier might describe as ‘uncomfortable’ in witcher-speak – a tongue of body language rather than words – and when it became obvious Jaskier would not fill the silence for him or move on, surprisingly answered.

“In a manner,” he admitted.

“In a manner,” Jaskier repeated theatrically, as if this in fact explained all the secrets of the universe, and nodded his head sagely, “Ever a man of many words you are, Geralt. In what manner?”

Geralt blew a breath through his nose in a heavy huff, his eyes darting up in that way he did whenever he was gauging whether or not something was worth sharing with Jaskier. It appeared his distate for being badgered outweighed his dislike of talking about himself, because he kept his eyes pointedly down on his sword as he said, “Mutations.”

“Ah. I see.”

Amber eyes darted to him for a fraction of a moment – almost, dare Jaskier say, nervous; but he couldn’t be certain with the firelight. No, not nervous exactly… but without a doubt Geralt was anticipating something. Bracing himself, one might say.

His sword was already positively gleaming, but the man continued to focus on it as if it were rusted. When Jaskier threw a stick at him, staring at him pointedly, mouth full of bread, Geralt sighed – haughty and on edge.

“Witchers,” he said slowly, drawing it out as if unsure of how to proceed, “Adapt easily. Our bodies can speed or slow our metabolisms as needed.”

The bread in his hands felt suddenly too rough, too heavy. He had a terrible, awful feeling he knew where this explanation was headed, but he needed to hear it. Needed to know for sure.

“Geralt,” he said just as slowly if only to show Geralt that any cheerful playfulness in him had passed and that there was no escaping this conversation now. “What precisely are you trying to tell me? That you have an on-off lever for your hunger?”

Geralt blew out a breath through his teeth that stirred his messy silver hair. It was like pulling teeth, Jaskier thought, frustrated.

“We can starve a long time before it becomes a problem,” he finally said, clinical and blunt, as if he had said something mundane like ‘witchers are more flexible than most’ rather than ‘I can suffer starvation longer than mortal men before I’ll ever die’.

“Geralt,” Jaskier snapped, unsure of what he was even trying to say. The word had slipped past his teeth in a snap, unfettered and unabashed and wholly horrified. Geralt might have flinched, it was hard to tell past the fire, and finally Jaskier had had enough of the man’s cowering. He stood and rounded the fire – loomed over the witcher – and saw the nearly feral glint of the man’s eyes as he pointedly did not look at him. Eventually, words returned to him. “Tell me this is some utterly terrible version of a witcher joke. Humor really does not suit you, you know.”

“Sure, it’s a joke,” Geralt deadpanned, something tight about the way he held his shoulders.

“Geralt!”

“What?” He finally snapped, the word nearly a hushed snarl when his eyes finally darted up to meet Jaskier’s and finally – finally – he saw it. Geralt was thin. It showed in his face, scant of even so much fat as to fill his cheeks, and from this angle the fire cast dreadful shadows in those hunger hollows.

Gods above, his gear. That’s why he hadn’t noticed, at least not yet. They had not exactly found a tavern in some time – sleeping outdoors provided little opportunity to disrobe or enjoy one another’s company in comfort. He had thought it surprising that Geralt had kept his armor on for more, if not all, of the trip. Now he knew – it was just as much a cover as the fire had been.

“Take it off,” Jaskier said.

Geralt blinked slowly, caught off guard. Slow from hunger, Jaskier realized. Something no doubt made worse by the witcher’s difficult relationship with sleep.

“What? No.”

“Geralt.”

“I already did it.”

He meant his wounds, Jaskier realized, and for some reason that made him angry.

“Another lie!” Jaskier said in an explosion of hand movement, too wound up to settle his tendency toward the theatrical as he gestured at Geralt’s shoulders – at the way he was obviously favoring one side over the other, and continued, “I saw you go to the river. You didn’t bring a single salve with you!”

Geralt rolled his eyes – not so much a dramatic gesture as it was a minute flutter of his lashes – and said, “I’m a witcher, Jaskier. It’s fine.”

He had heard the story before. Witcher, in Geralt’s mind, appeared to be synonymous with ‘immune’. But even so, the man was generally good about salving and bandaging himself. His body was, after all, his greatest tool. And yet he hadn’t this time.

“You don’t have any food, do you?” He finally accused, catching on, “Or salves? Gods above, Geralt, why did you take this contract without those things!”

“Because I needed the contract to buy those things,” Geralt said through his teeth, nearly baring them like his namesake might.

It was an argument that was quickly going nowhere, and Jaskier could not exactly pin point why exactly there was a kernel of fury growing in his stomach, searing him from the inside out in a rising tide. Instead he just made an utterly exasperated sound at Geralt, took a step forward – ignoring the tension that bloomed in Geralt’s body in reaction – and shoved the rest of his bread into the man’s hands before stomping off to his pack with a frustrated, “Why didn’t you say you utter oaf!”

Geralt’s brows shot up.

“Jaskier, I can’t,” he said, eyes on the man as he held the bread loosely, his rag haven fallen to the ground. “This is yours.”

“And now it’s yours, you bloody idiot of a witcher,” Jaskier said back just as quickly, his tone almost lilting as he fell back into the comfort of jesting words to hide the anger in his gut that made him want to – he didn’t even know! Kick a tree, maybe? Punch a man? Tie Geralt down until he understood how to better take care of himself? Yes, that one. He busied himself with digging through his own pack on Daisy. His horse whickered at him cheerfully as he shuffled things around. He found another chunk of bread – this one smaller but better than nothing. He also pulled out a tin of cured meat he kept for emergencies, as well as a leather wrapped kit – crude at best – of what scant medical supplies he had come to find necessary during his trips with Geralt. Bandages, cheap salves, thread and needles. He turned back to Geralt, his findings in either hand, and nearly barked out a laugh at the sight of the witchere. The man had never looked more uncomfortable or out of his element, staring at him like Jaskier were a lion that might make of a meal of him rather than a wispy bard with bread, meat and medical items.

“You look as if I’ve revealed myself to be another Churt in disguise,” Jaskier said, coming closer now. Geralt moved, perhaps to stand, to flee, but not quickly enough – and that, in and of itself – convicted Jaskier on his path even more. He pressed a hand onto Geralt’s knee, cautious of where he thought the man’s wounds might be, and urged him back down onto the log as he took a seat beside him.

“Surely you’ve been without coin before,” Jaskier said as he delicately places the second loaf onto the cleanest bit of bark that he could manage, then the tin and medical supplies. Geralt looked like a cornered dog but Jaskier just kept talking, as if his babbling might ease the witcher into some modicum of familiarity and comfort. “I’ve seen you hunt. So why not hunt?”

He asked even as he knew why. Geralt had already hinted at it. With a metabolism that sped and slowed as needed, it meant that his body had burned most of its energy in the fight. Now it was slowing again, drawing the warmth from his skin as his heart beat dropped to an almost unnatural rhythm. Hunting took time and energy. It meant Geralt was now in league with most wild predators – better to wait for an ample opportunity that promised success than to blindly waste it looking for an animal in the woods at night. Better to bide his time, even if that meant a gnawing stomach.

“No point right now,” Geralt said, confirming his suspicions. It was strange to simultaneously see the man as a predator and yet realize that meant that, in this moment, he was vulnerable for the very same reason that he was dangerous.

“Right, of course,” Jaskier said idly, more focused on the task at hand now that he understood the problem, “Not to rush things along because I generally prefer to take my time disrobing my partners, but let’s go, Geralt. Eat your bread, off with your armor and such.”

Geralt stiffened, then held the husk back to him with a murmured, “It’s yours. I don’t need handouts. M’fine.”

The words ‘I’m used to this, it’s not a big deal’ went unsaid – and wisely so. Jaskier might’ve given him a motherly wallop for it. Instead he shoved the bread back toward Geralt with a quick, “Yeah, well, if it’s mine then that means I can do whatever I want with it. And I want you to eat it.”

That, in combination with hunger, seemed to finally cow the witcher into some semblance of obedience. He pulled a tuff of soft, white bread flesh from its stale husk and went about eating it with far less drama than Jaskier had. But the bard didn’t miss the way the witcher’s fingers nearly – nearly – trembled. For the first time he realized the problem might be far worse than a day or two without food. There was no telling how long the witcher had gone without before Jaskier had arrived to join him on his trek.

He realized with a start that he didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to know how long Geralt could go. He’d much rather focus on ensuring he didn’t ever go that long ever again.

Jaskier pressed into Geralt’s space with long arms and clever fingers, unfastening buckles and straps around Geralt as the witcher ate. He pulled off his chest armor and had to bite his tongue not to hiss. The witcher’s shoulder was a mass of purple – masked except for where it peaked out beneath the hem of his collar, but telling nonetheless. It’d heal, Geralt always did, but it didn’t mean the man needed to suffer while he did. He tugged at Geralt’s shirt, easing it over his head as he sighed, “For a man as adept and trained for survival as you are, Geralt, you’re an astoundingly huge idiot.”

“Wow, thanks,” Geralt mused, a chuckle blurred around the edges of the words, muffled as the shirt slipped over his head and—

Jaskier had to bury his teeth into his knuckles to avoid spitting out the first, dramatic invective that sprung to his tongue. But by Melitele’s tits, the man was deceptively built looking for a man as thin as he was at the moment. With his armor on he looked like a brick wall – tall, broad and built for tasks no normal man could handle. But beneath all that, even as muscled as he was, the truth remained that the white wolf was thin as a rail almost. He tried to remember the last time he had seen the witcher, the last time they had shared a room, shared each other’s company. He was a surprisingly lithe man for someone so accustomed to a job like witchering – but he hadn’t been this thin. He must have been decently fed, last he saw him, because now Jaskier could almost swear that if he had a hand on either side of Geralt’s hips, his fingers would nearly touch. An exaggeration, and yet, he didn’t want to try in case he was right. He could see every rung of Geralt’s ribs, every knob of his spine. His stomach curved inward, even the musculature of his abdomen less prominent that he remembered. And his hips; the way they jutted even while sitting…

Gods above, how long did he starve this time?

Even faced with so much suffering, Jaskier held his tongue firmly between his teeth until he was certain he would not badger the man. Geralt knew how thin he was. There was a reason why he had kept his armor on with Jaskier. He had known the bard would fret. He had tried to hide it. Hounding him now wouldn’t reverse the effects of Geralt’s stint with hunger – but it would drive the wolf away, keen as he was to avoid confrontation and care like a Labrador unwilling to be bathed.

“You put even my boyish figure to shame, Geralt. Going after my job, are we?” He joked because he couldn’t bare the silence. If it were silent for so much as a moment longer he’d babble. He’d babble, and that would devolve to nagging, and he needed the witcher to sit still, to trust him. To finally, finally allow someone to care for him despite his conceptions about what was or was not his, and how far he could push the limit of witcher mutations before he pushed too far. Geralt snorted, back shivering like a horse shoeing flies when Jaskier ran two fingers lightly over his bruising. It was swollen, puffy; hot to the touch. Dark as pitch, made worse by the flickering light of the fire. He opened one jar of salve, coated a few fingers liberally, then went about rubbing it into the man’s skin as gently as possible while still working it in to the muscle and damage before. Geralt moaned – Jaskier couldn’t tell if it were pain or relief, but he continued regardless.

“Hardly about to start singing in pubs,” Geralt mused, evidently just as eager to settle back into some semblance of normalcy. Unused to being the one being taken care of rather than doing the protecting. It rankled him something fierce, muscles tight under Jaskier’s hands.

“Yes, well, maybe you should consider it,�� Jaskier said lightly, dipping his fingers back into the jar for more, “With a voice like yours, you’d be quite exotic for the trade. Women would swoon at your feet – if you can hold a tune, of course, very important. Pubs tend to feed their bards. Pay’s good, too. Better than…” he trailed off. It felt too raw, too cruel to take a shot at Geralt’s profession now when the wolf was so bare and vulnerable. Here Jaskier had taken his armor and his wrappings, both physical and metaphorically, and exposed the witcher for what he was: mortal, self-abused and exhausted. To go on felt like a moot point, like kicking a man while he’s down. It felt wrong to acknowledge once more that witchering was a thankless trade. Painful, even, when Jaskier knew Geralt risked his life often, protected thankless assholes that tried to fleece him often – and he starved himself to do it, too.

Geralt made a sound Jaskier couldn’t quite navigate.

“Eat the meat in the tin as well,” Jaskier guided the conversation away, tone light despite the way his breath hitched in his chest seeing Geralt like this.

“Jaskier, this isn’t necessary—”

Jaskier’s hands drew still on Geralt’s back. Something swollen twisted his chest and throat into something thin and strained as he said, “Please, Geralt… if for no other reason than to appease me. I may not have a witcher’s metabolism, but I’m tired as well.”

The tin squealed lightly when Geralt opened it. The same of dried pork wafted up lightly – stronger when Geralt took a slice and held it over his shoulder with a gruff, “At least eat some, too.”

Jaskier would have laughed if the whole situation wasn’t so fucked up. Instead he just hummed a pleased, “How thoughtful,” and took the morsel directly from Geralt’s fingers with his mouth, unwilling to touch it with his salve-greasy fingers. Geralt was more comfortable with that gesture than being taken care of, and Jaskier decided then and there that he’d have to work on that.

Geralt ate the jerky and Jaskier sent a quick halfhearted prayer of thanks to the gods on the off chance they were real even though he was pretty sure they weren’t and mainly enjoyed referencing them for how colorful they made his curses. Once the worst of Geralt’s shoulder was handled, he ran a hand over the rungs of his ribs down to the – sharp, too sharp – jut of his hip and asked, “Did you actually attend to those gashes or do I need to strip you completely?”

“They were shallow enough. Nearly healed,” Geralt grunted around a strip of meat. Jaskier looked at him pointedly, brows raised, and Geralt offered a grumbly, “Truly. It’s fine.”

Jaskier waited another beat for added affect before capping the jar with a soft, “Alright, Geralt. I trust you. But if they’re not gone in the morning, please put salve on them?”

Geralt grunted at that, and Jaskier took that as a sign of victory.

Much of the tension had eased from Geralt’s shoulders now, but there was still a great deal of exhaustion under his eyes and in the shadows of his cheeks. Jaskier wiped his hands clean on a rag, watching the witcher eat with a strange fondness in his gut he couldn’t quite name. He was unused to this, he realized. Not just with Geralt, but in general. In brothels or taverns or even with the witcher, his relationships had been centered around passion and drive. The need to fulfill his desires with lips and fingers and teeth. He had shared meals and treats after with maidens and men alike, of course, and had even himself been cared for some. But had never really done the caring himself and mostly certainly not in a context as benign as this. He had never felt the urge to. No one ever stuck around, after all, and both parties were only ever fulfilling the same selfish desires only…

This was difficult. Geralt was different. Jaskier wanted to help. They wouldn’t lay together, not tonight. There was no ulterior motive, no benefit other than… Well, other than Geralt’s comfort and safety. Jaskier’s hands stilled in his rag, gaze caught a bit wide-eyed on the snacking witcher when suddenly Geralt’s own amber eyes lazily caught his, no longer as edgey as he had been.

“What?” The witcher asked, the idiot.

“Nothing,” Jaskier chirped quickly, eager to cover the sudden revelation before he had time to properly turn it over in his mind and understand it. He tossed the rag at his pack and for once he was the one avoiding the witcher’s gaze as he said, “I was merely thinking about how lucky you are to have such a handsome and selfless friend such as me. Talented, charming and capable in the woods – you were born beneath a lucky star to have met me. What would you do without me?”

Geralt snorted again and that, Jaskier could tell, was a laugh. He grinned in return, back on familiar footing, and came to sit thigh to thigh with his witcher. Geralt hummed, curiously close to a cat’s purr, and Jaskier had the oddest urge to run his fingers through the man’s hair just to hear more of that sound.

“Starve a little longer, I suppose,” Geralt said, playfulness dulled by the truth in it. Blunt, daft ass of a man. Jaskier stretched his legs before him, forced himself not to go off on another tirade unless the witcher – too used to doing things only on his own terms – shut down after all the work the bard had done to loosen him up that evening.

“Yes, well, from now on what’s mine is yours, Geralt. I’ll pack accordingly.”

Geralt stilled.

“—Jaskier, you needn’t trouble—”

“If you’re starving you can hardly protect me or perform those heroic acts of inhuman deeds I do so love to sing and profit off of, can you? Consider it your cut in the fame you’ve brought me with your witchering,” Jaskier said cheekily, eager to cover his own vulnerabilities like the coward and hypocrite that he was. Something stole across Geralt’s face, something unidentifiable, and Jaskier felt his gut curl ever so slightly.

“Of course,” Geralt said. Jaskier felt the slightest bit of distance grow between them suddenly, their comradery turning the littlest bit stale. Guilt stabbed him lightly. The fire crackled. “That is why you come, isn’t it.”

It almost… almost seemed as though Geralt was disappointed by that – mildly, as witchers tended to be, and yet more poignantly because of that.

Well… he had stripped Geralt of his manly pride, his clothing and his illusions of not being a twig. The least Jaskier could do was offer some boon in turn. Even the playing field, so to speak.

He sucked in a breath, let it go slowly, catching Geralt’s attention because of it.

“It started that way, yes. Though not wholly for the stories or the songs… But now… Geralt, I would follow you even if there were no story to sing about in some pub,” he admitted. “If one of our trips just comprised of us dozing under willows by the river, I’d join you. I’d keep the songs just for myself. Sing them to you. Maybe it’d help you sleep.”

Geralt watched him for a long time. Jaskier began to fidget, his neck burning and no doubt red as the silence made his words sound more and more ridiculous. He was just about to say, ‘forget it, I’m just daft with exhaustion, you know how it goes,’ when finally, Geralt spoke.

“What would you sing about then,” Geralt asked slowly, carefully, “If not about whatever I killed?”

Geralt was staring at him, his face a blank sheet, and Jaskier felt prickly all of sudden, frustrated that the witcher could so easily hide while he was weak to expressing himself at the drop of a hat. But the moment felt important to Geralt regardless, somehow the bard could just tell. Perhaps it was his increasing fluency in the wordless speak of witchers. The worst of that dazed, hollow hunger-glaze had retreated from those amber eyes. Still there around the edges, but otherwise focused on him in a manner Geralt rarely allowed himself to do.

“I’d have plenty to sing about,” Jaskier said softly, his protective, charming mannerisms falling away layer by layer under those eyes. “I’d love nothing more than to sing about the white wolf finally enjoying himself for a moment – even if that moment were as benign as enjoying an apple freshly plucked from the tree. Even if it detailed only the litany of your snoring or the way the wind dances in your ridiculously white hair.”

Geralt snorted, a wry twist of amusement to his lips as he looked out into the night and said, “Enough. I’m not one of your conquests from some backwater village or high court function. Stop blowing smoke up my ass.”

He should joke. It was his cue to joke. Geralt was offering him an out. He should joke.

“I could sing even about this,” he said instead, his eyes traveling to the dark bloom on Geralt’s back – proof of his mortality despite the legends Jaskier had hand in crafting.

“Some song that would be,” Geralt grunted, “No one wants to hear about a half-starved witcher. Sour the mood immediately.”

“Don’t be so shallow, you’re cleverer than that,” Jaskier chided.

“I’m daft, I’m clever – which is it?”

“Believe me, the contradiction frustrates the hell out of me too, witcher,” Jaskier chuckled, the littlest bit of a frustrated grumble in the tone as he leaned in, crowding the man. “But I stand by it. Perhaps that should be the next song I sing: how to take care of your witcher. Help some other fool bard out there who also fell head over heels for their witcher.”

“Your witcher?” Geralt asked, brows raised.

“Ears like yours, I know you heard me, Geralt. A mouse farts and you wake up. Don’t play coy with me.”

Geralt actually let out a soft huff of a laugh at that.

“How to care for your witcher… you think you know how?” He mused, too weary to fight or snap, it would seem – made soft by the salve and Jaskier’s hands. Steadier than the witcher from those early days, so skittish and closed off.

“You’re still here, aren’t you?” Jaskier said, puffing up, proud. Geralt shook his head, exasperated, and Jaskier pressed, “I’ll start with feeding you properly, since you can’t be trusted to make sane choices. And anything after that, well… I’ll learn as I go!”

And that was as close to saying ‘I love you’ as he could get for now. The witcher too easily spooked, and he himself unfamiliar with this version of himself that loved beyond the first fuck. It wasn’t ‘I love you’, not yet. But if the witcher could show him his wounds, trust him with his back, well…

They were both learning as they went.

[imyourmumloser]

Trash to Treasure - Eisuke Ichinomiya x reader

Chapter 3

Chapter 1 2 4

It felt like days since I had first arrived in the fancy room yet the ticking clock on the wall said otherwise. The bodyguard was busy typing away on a laptop with furrowed brows. He would spare a glance at me every now and again but otherwise his sight stayed glued to the screen.

In the few hours I had been here two other men had shown up. The tense atmosphere didnt hold up for long with them around as they greeted me in the least serious way possible and joked around with each other while introducing themselves.

"Sor, I didnt think I'd ever find you alone with a pretty lady like this," the one in a red jacket said while nudging him slightly before turning to me. "You can call me Baba, pretty lady," he beamed with a wink. He was definitely a strange man and I didnt hesitate to move away slightly as I eyed him suspiciously. The small gesture of discomfort caused the other man to laugh at Baba as he pouted in rejection. However, it didnt take him long to recover and move closer to me.

"So what do you see in Sor then?" he questioned me while wiggling my eyebrows. Thankfully, I didnt have to reply before Sor dragged him away from me and out of the room with the other man. I couldn't help but silently thank whatever god sent him my way to save me from the situation. Eventually the Sor guy returned alone thankfully and the silence from before the clowns came had returned as well.

More time ticked by yet before I knew it the familiar sound of the elevator opening filled the room and out sauntered a familiar face. My hopes were high as my heart began to pound before I remembered my random, crazy act before and realised this most likely wasn't going to go well. The good thing is that he didnt have a lawyer with him so maybe I wasnt going to end up in prison.

Sor finally looked up to Eisuke who pulled out his phone as he made his way to the sofa. "Come to the lounge and bring Mamoru," he ordered before ending the call without wasting a second of his precious time. He continued over to the raven haired male who showed him his laptop screen. Eisuke's eyes swiftly scanned whatever was on the screen before looking at me. Oh boy.

Just as I gulped and anxiety flooded me, the two clowns from before returned with a sleepy looking man who I'm assuming is the Mamoru that Eisuke ordered to come here. They all sat on the sofas as I felt the breath from my lungs leave. Why did Eisuke want so many people here? Maybe they were his legal team which would mean I was in deep trouble.

The thought made my hands clammy. All I wanted was to carry out my mothers will yet the day just couldn't go as planned and here I was surrounded by men who would most likely change my life. Its moments like this where i would go to my mother for support, comfort and advice but none of it was on the table anymore and I was alone in this world. Eisuke wasnt pleaded in the slightest at me just standing outside his hotel so imagining how he would respond to me acting like a wacko lady and causing a scene sent a shiver down my spine.

As I continued dreading the potential future that was going to be thrown my way they talked among themselves. Even if I was paying attention their voices were hushed enough that it would have been loud enough for me to hear; not that I wanted to hear it though.

"So you're mother is (mother name)?" Eisuke's voice pulls me from my dark thoughts. After processing his question I nodded hesitantly.

"You knew her?" I asked. It didnt click that Eisuke would have known my mother and I didnt really know anyone else who knew her so he would be the first person who I could talk to about her.

"Knew?" he questioned.

Before I could talk, I felt like a pile of bricks had been dropped on me. I hadn't said it out loud yet. I bit my lip as my eyes stung from the familiar heat of tears. I blinked them back as I questioned if I wanted to say it. It was real if I said it. I spent days feeling numb on my own before throwing myself into finding Eisuke so I never got to come to terms with the cold, hard truth.

"She... died," I mumbled back in response. Those two words not only confirmed that she was gone but also dragged a dull atmosphere into the room as a short silence followed suit. My heart ached and I could sense the look of pity on one or two of the mens faces and I hated it so for my sake I tried to move the conversation on.

I took a deep breath to soothe myself and forced the tears back before speaking. "That's why I wanted to talk to you, Mr Ichinomiya," I said as I turned toward him. His brows knitted together in thought as I awkwardly waited in response.

After what felt like the longest few seconds he finally turned towards the other men. "Her safety is to take top priority. Get ready for the meeting for when I'm back," he ordered as he got up and walked towards me. "You, with me," he barked and left before I could respond.

"Where are we going?" I asked but followed anyway despite knowing our destination like a loyal dog.

"Your room. My girlfriend should stay in my penthouse after all," he replied but the answer only fueled my confusion.

"I dont have a room here, I cant afford it. Plus what do I have to do with your girlfriend?" I quizzed yet was only greeted with silence. I turned to the others and noticed the clowns laughing at my confusion. Was it that obvious? I thought over the phrase before it clicked.

"Wait, you mean me?! I'm the girlfriend?" His only response was silence as I was practically running after him to catch up with his long, quick strides. Cold much. After chasing after him we finally arrived in a lounge that felt a little more homely yet still as sophisticated as the room I was in prior.

"Y-you didnt... answer... me back there," I huffed out of breath.

"I shouldn't ask questions you already know the answer to. You'll be staying in the guest room. Dont leave the penthouse without my permission. If you leave then I trust you know what trouble will be waiting for you and if I call you better answer immediately."

"You dont even have my number," I said confused, however, my phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number.

"The only replied I should get from you are yes and okay," he half scolded while putting his phone away and nodding his head in the direction of a door. "That's your room."

Without another word he turned on his heel and went back the way we came. That was short and quick. My brain was baffled by the past week's events. I felt foolish for expecting answers as I stood in the lounge all on my own.

Sighing I turned around and walked towards what would be my new room. None of this sat right with me but it was what my mother wanted so I had no choice but to go through with it and trust that she knew what she was doing when she sent me Eisuke's way even if Eisuke was a bit of a dick.

I closed the door to the room behind me as I scanned over the room. It was as elegant as every other room in the hotel but one thing stuck out to me; my things. Why were they here and how? I shuffled through everything to confirm it was mine and after doing so I stared in shock.

Did he do this in the time I was sat with that bodyguard? How would he have been able to find my address then transport it all here? The bad feeling in my gut only worsened as I felt things were going to go downhill with me knowing these people. Not to mention the fact that he's keeping me here and I didnt even have a say in it. The pile of bricks from before hit me ten times harder as I tried to hold onto faith that my mother would keep me from harm's way.

I sat on the bed as the darkness of the night consumed me just like my thoughts did. Surely I was safe, right? Mother would never put me on harm's way. I continued to try and justify what was happening and before I knew it my eyes were opening to the harsh rays of the sun. I guess I fell asleep at some point last night.

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes as everything came flooding back to me while my gaze wandered around the room, focusing on my things that mysteriously appeared here. As I pulled my body out of bed I noticed the view of Tokyo. The view was breathtaking and looked like something I would never be able to afford even if I saved up five lifetimes. I felt like I was in a trance as I soaked in the modern scenery and ant sized people.

A knock from the door echoed through the otherwise silent room. I turned as the door swung open to reveal a maid in a blue uniform dress that bowed down to me slightly. "Good afternoon Miss L/n. It's time for your appointments. I've been requested to show you to them," she stated as she raised her head to me.

"Appointments? Afternoon?" I seriously overslept.

"Yes. Mr Ichinomiya is waiting for you. He's a busy man as you know. We must hurry," she replied while eyeing my day old, wrinkled clothing. I'm guessing these wont do for his standards.

As I scurried to the bathroom to get dress I wondered about the appointments the maid was going on about. I dont remember being told about any but yesterday is kind of a blur but I did remember him telling me that leaving him waiting would lead to trouble for me so I hurried along and reappeared in front of the maid.

"Ready? We must be quick," the maid said, leaving the room before I could even answer. Do I get a say with anyone in this hotel or am I just a doormat?

We soon arrived in front of an empty boutique. I turned to the maid with a quizzical look but all she did was stand by the door gesturing for me to go in. Eyeing the empty shop suspiciously, I pushed the clean glass door open and looked around in curiosity before my gaze landed on the one and only Eisuke Ichinomiya.

"You're late," he scolded. His brows were furrowed as he looked down at me in disapproval. "Try these on," he ordered. He jerked his head in the direction of several tracks of dresses as confusion took over me slightly.

"Which ones?"

He scoffed in return and as I looked at him I just managed to see him roll his eyes at me. Wasnt he supposed to be my boyfriend? Does he not know that definition of boyfriend or is this how he treats every woman?

"All of them obviously."

My jaw almost dropped in shock as I stared at all the dresses. He wanted me to try all of them on? This was going to be a long day and it was already way into the afternoon.

[azaraspirit]

I found this old gem in my documents lmaaoo i cant even remember when i wrote this...its like the one piece of star wars fanfic i have written. and its not terrible so i felt enclined to share it lmao. i think i wrote it after i saw the last jedi??? yes i used my own name cuz its cool lol @spideyspeaches @lovelysophia

You stood frozen in time like a statue. Thoughts raced in your mind a mile per second.

“Azara.”

It was Ben but at the same time, a stranger. You didn’t recognize the robotic voice coming from the black and silver helmet that covered your friend’s face.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to rescue you.” You blinked, surprised by the hoarseness of your own voice.

“Rescue? I don’t need saving.”

“Ben-“

“My name is Kylo Ren.” he hissed.

Your eyes began to sting.

“No it’s not, don’t give me that bullshit. Your name is Ben Solo, and you’re my friend.”

“Ben Solo is dead just like his father.”

You winced at his cruel words.

“Ben please, come back with me. We can escape together.” you pleaded.

“Come back to where Azara? Who would want me back?”

“I do. Please Ben, I need you.”

Ben stood there. You so desperately wanted to see his face.

“It’s too late. The things I’ve done...no one would trust me ever again…”

“I would.” You stepped forward. “Please Ben. We can run off somewhere together, just you and me.”

“Just you and me…” he repeated.

You found yourself inching towards him, careful not to startle him.

“Remember the good times we had together.” you spoke. “You were the one who first believed in me that I could be a jedi. Let me believe in you.”

You were so close to him now. You could have reached up to touch him.

“Let me see your face Ben. Let me hear your voice.”

First nothing happened. But then slowly Ben lifted up his helmet. A hiss escaped as it opened.

Your eyes widened. He wasn’t the innocent boy you remembered but instead a man who has seen so much hardship and darkness. Even those eyes you loved so much have darkened in color.

“Ben.”

He refused to look at you.

“Ben,” you repeated sternly.

He still didn’t look up. “Let’s get out of here.”

You were about to take his hand when a voice boomed from the room.

“REBEL SCUM!”

You whirled around to see Captain Phasma with a group of storm troopers.

Fear struck your very core. You glanced at Ben for help who has put his helmet back on.

“What is she doing still alive?” she demanded.

“I was waiting for you to witness her death.” Ben said with his robotic voice.

“No.” you whispered to yourself.

“Proceed.” said Phasma.

You stepped away as Ben activated his red lightsaber.

“I wish it didn’t have to end this way.” he spoke. “You would have been a strong addition to our cause.”

You fell to your knees. “Ben, please…”

“Execute her. She is a threat to the Republic.” said Phasma.

“You’re my friend…” Tears fell down your cheeks.

“What are you waiting for? Kill her!”

“You don’t give me orders captain!” snarled Ben. “I am the one in charge!”

You looked down at the floor, seeing your reflection. Your lightsaber. You tossed it. It’s somewhere in the room.

“Ben, my saber.” you whispered.

He looked down at you. “We can still run. Just get my lightsaber.”

“Maybe this shouldn’t be so quick.” he spoke after a moment of silence.

“What?” demanded Phasma.

“We should at least be entertained by her death. Let her fight one last time.”

With a flick of his hand, your saber was in his grip.

You looked up at him, confused.

“Kylo Ren, I order you to kill her!” shouted Phasma.

“Because you are afraid of her?” he asked.

Phasma didn’t respond. “Perhaps instead of killing her, she should join us. Join us or die.”

“Take it and do as I say.” he whispered to you.

Your eyes widened. Hesitantly you took back your weapon.

You stared at it. Was your plan working? Was is an escape?

You stood up and your blue saber came to life, standing next to Ben.

“Rebel scum! Kill her!” Phasma ordered.

You so badly wanted to take Ben’s hand and run but you knew you had to fight your way out of this. “I was never good in a fight.” you admitted to yourself.

“Just trust your instincts.” Ben said.

“Get her!” Phasma shouted.

Your instincts said to run. Instead you gripped on the handle of your saber, standing your ground. You frantically tried to remember the old techniques Ben taught you from years ago.

Ben laughed. “Come on Azara! You can do better than that!”

“It’s heavy!” you whined as the medium sized boulder lied on the ground in front of you, mocking you.

“How many times do I have to tell you? Weight does not matter when it comes to the Force. All that matters is the strength from what you believe in.”

You sighed. “This is hopeless. I will never be a jedi.”

“Not with that attitude.” The young Ben, 15 at the time, stepped close to you, his face inches from you. You locked eyes. “I believe in you, Azara. I believe that you can do this.”

You looked back at the boulder, glaring at it.

“Now close your eyes and breathe. Focus.”

You did as he instructed, taking slow deep breaths. Your hand reached out. You imagined the boulder being hollow and weightless like a feather.

Moments later you felt something, a tug at your gut.

Ben’s cackle of joy came to you and your eyes snapped open. The boulder was hovering five feet in the air.

“You did it, Azara! You did it!”

You stared in awe.

“Azara!” Ben screamed. You snapped out of your day dream and back to reality where Phasma was sprinting at you. You managed to duck from her weapon at the last possible second. You stole glances, trying to find Ben. Phasma was coming in hot.

“Rebel scum!” Your lightsaber blocked her weapon but she was heavy and you were weak. The light glowed against your face.

You glare at her, teeth gritted. You were never very strong. Ben was always the strongest.

“Weight does not matter when it comes to the Force.”

You glared at Phasma as if she was the boulder.You felt a familiar tug at your gut.

Moments later Phasma was shouting as she was being lifted into the air with your mind.

“Republic scum.” you growled you used your hand to throw her across the room. She screamed but then went silent as she hit the wall.

“Azara.”

You turned around to see Ben standing in awe. The storm troopers lied dead around him.

“Like you said. Weight doesn’t matter when it comes to the Force. Only the strength to believe in myself.”

Ben removed his helmet. He stared at you with widened eyes. “Y-you remembered that?”

“I remember everything that you taught me.”

Silence. The two of you stood feet from each other.

“T-that was so long ago. I’ve forgotten…” Ben stared at the floor, ashamed.

“I can help you remember. That is if you come with me.”

“Just you and me…” he spoke softly.

“Yes.”

Ben looked up and he smiled. He actually smiled. He wasn’t Kylo Ren anymore. He was Ben. Ben Solo, your best friend-

“REBEL SCUM!” shouted Phasma.

The two of you snapped heads to see Phasma standing with her weapon. Before either of you could blink, she pulled the trigger of her large blaster. A red beam shot out and came straight for you.

“NO!” screamed Ben but it was too late. It pierced right through your abdomen.

Without hesitation, Ben used the Force to Snap Phasma’s neck. She fell to floor, forgotten.

Ben rushed towards you, catching you right as you almost hit the floor.

Blood trickled from your mouth.

“Azara!” he cried.

You chuckled. “There he is. There’s the Ben I remember.”

“No, no, no.” he stammered. He looked up. “WE NEED HELP NOW!” he screamed. “MAN DOWN!”

“Ben it’s okay.” you spoke.

“No, I just got you back. I don’t want to lose you again.”

You caressed his cheek. He felt cold. “At least I got to see you smile.”

With that, her hand fell.

Ben was in shock. He just got his one and only friend back and now she was dead.

All the memories he had of them came rushing back. When they first met, their first training session, their first kiss…

Anger boiled inside him. He screamed like he has never screamed before. The ship rattled.

He refused to lose her again. Quickly he stood up and scooped Azara’s limp body in his arms, walking as fast as he could.

The medical team arrived but he ran past them. When you want something done right you have to do it yourself.

Ben entered the med bay. He passed the beds and gurney’s. Instead he entered the back room and opened one of the healing pods reserved for fatal wounds.

He carefully lied you inside. The door hissed as it shield shut. He began to press the buttons necessary that will began the healing process.

“Sir, Captain Phasma is dead-“

With a flick of his hand, the trooper flew out the room, then closed the door shut.

You were all that mattered now.

It felt like hours as Ben stood by your side as you lied safe in the pod, waiting for any sign of life. His eyes never left your face. His mind flooded with the good times you shared when you were just innocent teenagers.

“Ben don’t you dare!” Azara shouted as he held you in his arms, standing at the surf of the beach.

“What? You don’t want to get wet?” he chuckled.

“We just came for a walk not a swim.”

He sighed. “You’re no fun.”

Ben started to put you down but then thought better. Instead he went in a few feet. “Ben!” you screamed as he tossed you in the water, laughing.

Moments later, you stood up from the water, glaring at him. “You’re going to pay for that.”

“What are you gonna do? Dunk me?”

You glared at him before charging. Ben just laughed. The water slowed you down. He was well prepared by the time you reached him. Still you were stubborn and tried to dunk him in the water. He was much taller than you. You had to jump on him and grab a hold of his shoulders.

He was laughing the whole time.

“It wouldn’t be so hard if you weren’t like a damn boulder.”

“What am I going to do with you?” He smiled.

Finally Azara gave up. She stood close to you, her arms still around his shoulders.

Their eyes locked and in that moment something changed. You didn’t let go of Ben. His hands were on your waist.

Ben found himself leaning in. He wanted to kiss his friend. His best friend.

A loud, urgent knock on the door interrupted Ben’s thoughts.

“Sir, Captain Phasma is dead!” This was another trooper.

Anger resided in Ben.

“Go away!” he yelled.

“But sir-“

“I will not be interrupted till further notice! That is an order!”

Silence.

His eyes settled on your face once again. He refused to let her die.

“Just you and me...you promised.”

PII

Several more hours went by and Ben haven’t left your side. Ben never thought for a second to take a break.

He watched you, feeling more guilt than he ever has before. This was all his fault.

“I feel so ashamed,” he spoke in a low voice. “I’m so sorry...you were the best thing that could ever happened to me...and I ruined it. I’m sorry…” He buried his face in his hands and sobbed. He hasn’t cried once since joining the dark side.

“Ben.”

He heard your muffled voice and shot up, eyes widened. “Azara.” he breathed with relief. “I can’t open this yet, I’m sorry. If I do, you could die.”

You gave him a weak smile, chuckling.

“What’s so funny?” Ben asked.

“I came here to save you but...you ended up saving me.”

Ben smiled back. He removed his glove and gently touched the glass. You did the same with your own hand.

“So what happens now?” you asked.

“We get the hell out of here: just you and me.” He paused then added, “It won’t be easy. I’ll have to rule just a little longer, then the second you’re strong enough, we’ll run away.”

You smiled.

“I’ll swear your protection. No one will be allowed to touch you or harm you.”

You chuckled.

“You have a lot of humor for someone who nearly died…” Ben said.

“Do what you have to do, Ben. I’ll be fine. Get some rest.”

“But I don’t want to leave you.”

You gave him a weak smile. “I’ll be fine, Ben.”

Ben waited for several more minutes before he finally left, assuring you he wouldn’t be long.

The last thing he wanted to do was address Phasma’s death. All he wanted to do was leave with Azara.

He met up with fellow troopers and other members of the Republic.

He stood there for a long moment, collecting his thoughts. Everyone waited.

“I have been told Captain Phasma is dead. I killed her.”

Some gasped in surprise.

“I will need a new leader to take her place. General Hux?”

“Yes, sir?”

“You are now next in charge.”

The man smiled. “Thank you sir.”

“Also there is a rebel on board but if any of you dare try to harm her, I will not hesitate to kill you. That applies to everyone.”

Silence.

“Understood,” Hux replied.

“Till further notice, I will be in the med bay. Do not intrude.”

The only sound were the thuds of Ben’s boots as he made his way to the Bay. On the way he picked up something to eat even though he wasn’t that hungry. But he knew Azara would scold him if he didn’t eat something.

*

Sleep was Ben’s worst enemy the next few nights. Between taking care of Azara and ruling the empire, Ben was stir crazy. He was ready to leave this stressful life.

The next morning, he checked in on Azara. She looked much better. Her vitals were back to normal. Ben smiled as he opened her pod. “You sure about this?”

He nodded. “You’re fully healed.”

You sat up and swung your legs over the side of the pod. Ben helped, to make sure you wouldn’t fall. “I know a way to sneak out of here.” Ben told you.

“Won’t they notice your abscence?”

“I’m sure they won’t miss me. I left them a note.”

You laughed.

“I already gathered supplies in the ship.” he informed you.

You smiled. “I’m ready.”

Surprisingly you felt rather strong. You were expecting to feel weak and fragile but no. Still you let Ben hold your hand. You blushed.

“There’s a back way through here.” You followed Ben’s lead as he made his way through the back of the room. Sure enough there was a door. It opened and led to a small empty corridor.

Swiftly you two went down the way, still holding hands. Surely someone would see you two.

Footsteps echoed down another corridor. You two froze. You panicked. “Ben.” you whispered.

“In here.” You both slipped into a small space, your bodies pressed against each other. Your breathing nearly stopped as you listened. The footsteps soon echoed into silence.

Ben sighed in relief. You looked up, realizing just how close you were to

him. Both of your abdomens pressed against each other. “We need to hurry.”

You tried to fight your blushing as you both slipped out of the small space. Ben led you down another corridor. And another. And another.

Your heart raced. It felt like an endless maze. Surely you two would be caught. Then what?

But amazingly you two made it to a smaller holding bay. Only a few storm troopers occupied the room.

You looked at Ben with fear.

“I got it covered.” He stood still as he focused on the troopers.

“What was that? I think I heard something over there. Follow me.”

The troopers left the room and down the other corridor.

“The power of the Force.” Ben bragged. “But hurry they won’t be distracted for much longer.”

The both of you ran to the ship. The door hissed as it opened, lowering the ramp. Your feet scurries upward. The door closed behind you. Ben immediately rushed over to the controls. The ship whirred to life.

Meanwhile someone noticed Ben’s absence. “Where is Kylo Ren?” Hux asked a trooper.

“Med Bay, sir.”

Hux thought otherwise as he went to inspect it. As he suspected the room was empty. And so was the pod. He was about to leave when he noticed a piece paper in the pod.

He approached it and took the paper. Written in familiar handwriting was a note.

“I quit. Love, Ben Solo aka Kylo Ren

XOXO.”

Hux stood there puzzled. Surely this was a joke.

He then noticed something at the bottom.

“PS, this is not a joke.”

Just as Ben was about to take off the trooper have returned. “Hey!” the trooper shouted. They began to shoot at the ship but it lifted into the air. Ben eyed the troopers through the glass and gave them the finger before blasting off.

“Did-did Kylo Ren just flip us off?” a trooper asked.

“I think so?”

The troopers were dumbfounded, unsure of what they have just seen.

Hux returned with the note in hand. “Sir, an unauthorized ship just left a loading dock.” a trooper noted.

“What?” Hux hissed.

“Should we blast them sir?”

“Wait.” Hux glanced down at the note. Surely that was Kylo if this was serious.

You couldn’t believe it. Here you were with Ben on a getaway ship. You looked over at him smiling.

“We did it.” you breathed.

“I’ve been wanting to quit for years.” smiled Ben.

“Did you seriously leave a note?”

He nodded. “Surely Hux found it by now.”

“Won’t he be pissed?”

“Not at all. He’s been wanting my job for years. Why else are there no tie-fighters after us?”

You shrugged. He had a point.

“Well what now?”

“We can go anywhere we want.”

“Together.”

“Just you and me.”

You smiled, nodding.