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sweettodo · 4 years ago

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I need longer than 7 minutes ⟿ Eren Jaeger x femreader [pt . 1]

Includes : swearing, making out, alcohol, lime, consumption, insinuation of marijuana [small reference].

Word count : 3,1k

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This’ll be a few parts, this is my lil re-creation. I tried to make it original, but I give creds to the person who originally wrote 7 minutes, she surly will be with us forever; I’ll never forget that story :D

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You run home from your last lecture in the English building; bag swinging and hitting your back while you sprinted across campus.

You didn’t expect to be held back twenty minutes after class; all because you got a B- on group work, your incompetent ‘buddies’ who had to help- didn’t. You did it all, in a week. Thankfully your professor had kept it somewhat short with you; letting you know you weren’t going to have to redo it.

That was besides the point though; you needed to get to the fraternity house, now. You had promised Jean and Connie you would help clean the house before people arrived. As you near the house, you pant, throat dry and your chest burns from running, your leggings made you sweat like a madman.

Running up the porch and fumbling with the doorknob, you swing open the door and see Connie, frantically grabbing cups from shelves and coffee tables, throwing them in a giant black bag and he begins shouting when you’re tossing your bag on the couch and tying your hair up, “What the fuck y/n!” He whines, “you know I don’t clean for shit!” He hollers, you snag the bag from him and he smiles childishly and plops onto the couch. Little shit. You pick up where he left off, dragging garbage by the arm into the bag.

“Maybe if you knew how to clean-” you start, Jean comes down the stairs, only in a towel, you roll your eyes, looking back at Connie, “maybe if you two got off your dead asses, you wouldn’t need me to clean for you.” You growl, steam practically flying from your ears, looking back at Jean, with that silly smile on his stupid face.

“You live here too.” Jean teasingly cackles, you huff and charge towards him, shoving a finger in his face. He looks down at you with a smug smile on his face.

“Used to- it’s not my fault I had no idea college relationships don’t work out.” He sticks his tongue out at you and ruffles your hair, stepping back and strutting away in his low hung towel.

‘I don’t get paid enough for this.’ You mumbled under your breath.

He turns a head before walking towards the staircase, “pshh, you used to be over here every day with Connie! doing whatever toxic couples do. And look at you, still here for him.” He teases, Connie laughs, throwing his head back and standing up, walking towards the kitchen.

“That’s because she still loves me.” He sneers, you drop the bag on the floor and head towards your bag, swinging it over your shoulder. The boys start towards you, begging for you to stay, “I didn’t mean it! Please help.” Connie begs, you comply and place your bag down once more.

“Yeah let me get dressed and I’ll help! Don’t leave us! Please.” Jean implores, quickly running up the stairs, followed by hearing a door shut. You continue cleaning up the downstairs rooms, cleaning what needed to be disenfected so on so forth. Jean did in fact help you, while Connie prepared the bar, and drank half of it while he was at it.

Finally stepping in front of the door, taking a gander at the clean and organized house, surfaces cleaned and dusted, the garbage needed to be emptied a total of twelve times by the time you were done.

You though- you were proud at the work you’ve done, disappointed at the fact you knew it would only stay like this for not even two hours, knowing this house would be full of kids like every weekend, “let me go back and get ready, I’ll be back in a little.” Before they get a chance to say anything, your ass is out the door and walking down the sidewalk to the neighboring dorms, the sun slowly disappearing, the skin turning a milky pastel pink and orange. Students walked, groups of people skateboarding, while most conversed amongst each other. You scurried into the dormitories where you resided and headed for the elevator, pressing it a few times before quickly opening, you step in and slam your two fingers on the floor of your room.

Finally reaching your floor, your feet quickly move down the hall, unlocking your door and slipping in, Historia sits in her desk chair, doing work, “hey Historia, wanna tag along?” You’re throwing your shirt off your head followed by your leggings, you two had changed in front of each other so many times, neither payed any mind.

“No, I’m behind on an essay, I’ll come next weekend I promise.” She pleads, you smile and wave your hand in the air dismissively while standing there half naked.

“Please! You know it doesn’t hurt my feelings, I just don’t want you crammed in here all the time by yourself, it’s unhealthy.” Hands deep in your drawers, you’re looking for a dress, she lets out a sigh of relief and drops her pen on her textbook, standing and walking towards me, opening another drawer.

“I know what dress you gotta wear!” She sings, you follow her hands, fingers strolling down the neatly folded clothes within her clothes drawer. She rips out a black bodycon dress which wasn’t longer than mid knee, with a nice dip in the v-line.

Graciously taking it from her hands, a small gasp and smile planted on your mouth as you slip it over your feet and thighs, shimmying your arms into the strings. Historia had quite a delectable taste of fashion, she had worn and worked every style she’s come across, “you look hot.” She places a love tap on your ass and you stick your tongue out, taking a good look at yourself in the mirror, turning around to look at your body.

Releasing your hair from the hair tie, you shake your hair out and brush it. Being cautious you’d run late again, Historia is picking out a perfume and matching lotion, spritzing you and you take the lotion out of her hands, squeezing the sweet flower smell into your legs and arms, “thanks roomie, please, reconsider; come with me.” You plead one last time, she shoves me playfully and points to her textbook.

“Next weekend, go. Don’t make Connie mad by being late.” You groan and slipping your feet into black platforms.

“You’ll regret saying that, I don’t like Connie.” You shut the door behind you. Walking back towards that elevator.

The sky was pretty much dark at this point, the party was twenty minutes from starting, and you had just walked through the front door as Connie was swinging it open, letting people know they could come in, a few boys sat on the couch. Jean could be seen pouring drinks for himself and probably his friends. “I knew I heard y/n!!” Jean cheers, jogging over to me and scanning his eyes up and down my figure, “looking- uh, sexy.” He coughs, shaking his head and the little bit of pink brushes his cheeks, handing me one of his drinks.

Marco leaps over the couch and jumps towards Jean, leisurely throwing an arm over his shoulder, “maybe you’ll finally get a piece tonight,” he nudges, you smack Marco upside the head and he mutters swears under his breath, pulling off of his friend, Jean rolls his eyes and takes a gulp of his drink, cocking an eyebrow.

“Who says I haven’t hit already.” Before the boys can even react, your knee meets his groin, kicking him, he screeches and falls to his knees, the room stays silent for the most part besides laughing, “alright! I haven’t hit it yet- Jesus y/n!” He hissed, rolling back onto his feet and practically limping out of the room. I turn around to see if the others got the warning, but instead see two boys standing at the front door, both staring at me with wide eyes and interested looks.

Both were tall; one blonde haired which covered his forehead, keen blue eyes, the other wore baggy sweats, a black short sleeve shirt, his hair was messily pulled back. You stand there like a ditz, kinda humiliated.

“Here- Eren, Armin.” Jean is coming from behind you, handing these men drinks, patting Eren’s shoulder all ‘buddy - buddy’ as they walk deeper into the house, you shake off the intense vibe you felt from the two and drink more of the flavored vodka. Your ears suddenly perk up like a dog when you hear Jean’s loud mouth from the kitchen, “oh that’s y/n, isn’t she just a gem? my nuts still hurt.” He laughs, the slight hint of sarcasm in his remark, you swing around and walk into the kitchen, interjecting yourself in their conversation; the three chat it up, Jean’s eyes land on yours and smiles like a brat.

You poke Jean in the side and smile at whichever Armin and Eren were, “Isn’t Kirsten so peachy, this is why I love him.” You giggle, the boys in front of you laugh; both absolutely stunning bright smiles, you could get used to their faces around here. You also wondered where they came from.

“Oh, to be Jean’s nuts right now.” The dark haired one jokes, arising laughter amongst the three boys. Your eyes practically fall out of their sockets, an immediate halt of poking Jean’s side, the little ball stood out, you were absolutely thrown off any train of thought you had. People start filling the kitchen, you were so frozen in feelings you looked so ridiculous, shaking it off with a little smile, you needed to flirt back, he started it.

“And don’t I wish I was that tongue piercing.” It was now their turn to be frozen in shock, the blonde one turning his head to look at the other, a little ‘Eren’ could be heard from his lips; ‘so that’s his name, he kinda looks like an Eren.’

The loud chatter and booming music has overtaken the house, it was getting harder and harder to hear a single conversation as more and more people filled the house.

Jean wraps an arm around me, “I love it when she’s bold, she only gets worse the more she drinks, be careful.” Jean gives me a tight side hug and you down the rest of the liquid in the cup, I had stunned Eren into silence, Armin broke that silence with a small laugh. What Jean said was true, I had a small track record of flirtatious behavior when I had enough liquid courage.

Eren smiles at you, “so intense, let’s get them a room already.” Your eyes peel off Eren’s, Sasha stood there with a bottle in her hand, a huge smile on her face, “it’s like a staring contest over here, what’s happening guys?!” She hollers over the music, poking my boob a few times, you swat her finger off your tit and she giggles, hiccuping, she was much more intoxicated than yourself.

“I was just getting more to drink, gimme gimme’” you snatch the bottle out of your friends hand and pop open the cap, “I hope to see you all later, I plan on us all playing a little spin the bottle or something.” You swallow, Armin tilts his head and looks at you.

“Isn’t that for high schoolers?” He asks, a smile on his face, you lean in close, your head right between both Eren’s and Armin’s ears, they subconsciously lean in to hear what I have to say.

“With a twist.” You hum, pulling away and following Sasha towards the basement stairs, personal tequila bottle in tow and ready to drink.

An hour later you’re faltering towards the couches and sliding down onto your wobbly knees, Connie and Jean rounding up the people we are closest too in the basement, dizzy and laughing at practically every little thing in sight, Sasha and Mikasa sat to your left and right, equally or less drunk as yourself.

Our friend group sits on the floor in a giant circle and you stand, “okay my friends, I figured we could do a little something different this weekend.” You announce, the room falling somewhat quiet as they listen to you, “we’re gonna play spin the bottle, but instead of just regular old spin the bottle, if one spins and it lands on the other, they can head into the closet for seven minutes, but when your turn comes again, or that person that you went into the closet with previously, you go into the bedroom for a timed thirty minutes. No backing out.” You didn’t even catch Eren making himself comfortable next to Jean and Marco, Armin sitting on the couch behind Connie also planning on participating.

Eren had noticed you though, standing there with that half empty bottle and your tight dress, your messy makeup which he found beyond sexy. He couldn’t stop thinking about how you told him you wished he was his piercing, no girl had ever been so outgoing and bold. Although he was slightly stoned, and definitely drunk, he couldn’t rip his eyes off you; he sat on the ground intrigued, “I’ll do the first spin.” Sasha gushes, grabbing the empty beer bottle and giving it a strong spin.

It spins and spins, you sat pretty on your knees and wait for it to land on someone; an eternity later it’s pointing between Mikasa and Jean. He was jumping onto his feet in an instant, you knew Jean so well that it was impossible for him to act cool, he was freaking the fuck out. Mikasa stands and pushes Jean towards the closet, he stumbles, drunkenly tripping over his feet and we all laugh at him, they go in and I set a timer, starting it immediately.

We all talk and laugh, Connie and Marco had their ears pressed against the door like perverts, “hey pervs! Quit it you two!” Sasha shouts, they leap away from the door and soon enough the ringing plays to signify the end of the long 7 minutes, you stand and knock on the door, Jean comes out first, dizzy and face flustered, totally beyond repair. Then Mikasa following behind him, perfectly fine but with a domineering smirk plastered on her face. We cheer and Jean plops down on the ground, the boys patting and laughing, congratulating him.

I go, spinning the bottle and anticipating the stop, when it finally comes to a stop, my eyes follow the top of the bottle stopped right between the legs of Connie and Eren, seeing both staring at me, ‘ooh’s’ and laughing fill up the room, there was no way I was going into that room with Connie. “Rock paper scissors!” Jean shouts, I slap my hands over my face in embarrassment, my luck I’d be stuck with Connie who would probably just start a fight with me.

You peek your eye through your fingers and see the two boys play it out to see who would get to go into the closet with me.

Connie one- Eren two.

Your hands drop into your lap, feeling lightweight, almost like you were floating, a mixture of both anxiety and excitement flickering in your stomach, he was so intimidating and you felt tiny in front of him- in all honesty, flirting was one thing. You stand up hesitantly and walk towards the closet, his body blocking you from being able to see your friends one last time. He shuts the door and wastes no time looping his arm around my waist, pulling me into his rock hard chest, looking up at him and begin to gnaw on your bottom lip as he cops a feel of your ass; his strong hand groping your ass, hand rubbing and squeezing, “eager are we?” You tease, he hums and continues.

You were spiraling under his strength. He walks both of you backwards until your back is hitting the wall, dipping his head down to your ear, “what happened to the tough guy act?” He purrs, you shiver, his hand moving from your ass and down your thigh slowly, “you wanna kiss me?” He asks quietly, forehead pressed against yours, you respond with a little nod, his lips instantly meeting yours, your eyes shut and it only becomes more messy as seconds pass, his hand that was once on your thigh was now separating them, sliding his thigh in place between your legs; pinning you. While his thigh sat between yours, you could feel the growing erection poking your leg; which he paid no mind, this was about you. His left hand behind your neck, thumb caressing back and fourth on your jawline softly whilst fixing his right hand back on your ass, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

His body was warm, nose drinking up his vanilla scent, he tasted good, vodka completely soaked your tastebuds, the faint aroma of weed could be tasted in your nostrils from his clothes. Your hands loosely around his waist feeling up his back muscles only slightly.

The metal bud on his tongue keeping you enticed, colliding with your own tongue, it was like a little magic ball that could instantly have you on your knees; sparking these new and mysterious sparks within your body which you wanted more of. It was fun to play with.

He slowly pulls away, a string of saliva dragging from his lips to yours, he licked his lips, you kept your eyes on that piercing like an owner holding his pets treats in his hand, “I need more than seven minutes.” He grunts, your swollen lips begging for his again.

You were going feral, the tips of your fingers teasingly touching the hem of his sweatpants, feeling his boxers underneath, “you’re a good kisser Eren, wonder what else you’re good at, hm?” You whisper in his ear, he was tense, body still latches onto yours so you could feel the flexing of his muscles.

“I would tear yo-” our heads snap to the side, the knocking on the closet door, that was seven? Already? He pulls off of you, immediately feeling cold, your hand coming to your mouth so you can wipe it and somewhat look composed. Like nothing happened, he’s swinging the door open and cockily walking out, you walked out beside him, the girls overwhelmed with cheery grins and jaws hitting the floor, the boys ‘oohing’.

“Was it good?” Mikasa questions, tugging at your arm so you could sit in your spot, you look at her with devilish eyes.

“I’m taking that as a yes, he looks high and mighty don’t he?” Sasha chuckles, you glance at Eren who is looking at you with low, seductive eyes. You gulp and explode, looking at the floor and feeling like all eyes were on you.

“Next person!” Jean shouts. We all prepare for ourselves for the next round.

Fifteen minutes later, after Marco and Sasha had completely demolished each other’s necks in the closet, plus Connie and a random girl spending an odd eleven minutes in the closet after we all pounded on the door to get them out; God knows what they did in that closet. You look for who’s turn it was next; it was finally Eren’s turn to spin.

You were rather... irritated; he was gonna get to please some girl with his mouth the same way I was so blessed to have bestowed upon me. You drink from the bottle, drowning your new attitude. Now everyone is shock, leaping to their feet and jumping around like teenagers, you look around and Eren is walking towards your sitting body, your messy and drunken eyes looking up at him confused, “looks like we get our thirty minutes.” He smirks, your eyes bulge and you quickly stand to your feet, what luck!

Walking down the small hall of the basement, your back only barely touching his front side as he’s pushing himself through the doorframe, you push the door shut with your foot and pick up right where you left off.

“I’ll need more than thirty minutes.” You stand in shock at him ripping his shirt off his head. His finger touching your chin before being able to stare at his body, “get on your back princess.” He starts, gently pushing your back onto the bed.

“I need to taste you, please.”

#eren yeager #7 minutes eren #eren jaeger #attack on titan #aot x reader #eren aot #lime

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anyarally · 4 years ago

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Sanders Sides Secret Santa Gift!

@sanderssidesgiftxchange

For: @authorgirl0131 Wish 1: Intruloceit Christmas fluff Wish 2: Sympathetic Deceit whump Wish 3: Logan and Deceit Christmas fluff Ao3 (it’s formatted better on there lol)

Janus, Logan, and Remus Have the Best Christmas Ever

Janus is upset after SvS Redux, so Remus and Logan try to help. Plus Christmas fluff!

We are ethically compromised if we give him a seat at the table

Snake

Liar

Rude

Spiteful

Jealous

Evil

Villain

The Light Sides’ words haunt Janus every night, only getting worse once Virgil leaves. The worst part is… he knows they’re not lying. Every insult, every implication, every rude remark, every single one was true. At least, to those who spoke them it was.

He sits alone in his room every night, Remus usually coming to check on him. Tonight, though, is special. Janus just fought with all the Lights, and told them his name! It was one thing when Remus did it, he’s crazy and unpredictable! When Janus does it… it’s serious.

Remus knocks aggressively on the ornate gold door, “Hey, ‘Anus?! You wanna hang out some? We could decapitate some of Roman’s dumb unicorns in the imagination, I sensed some trespassing earlier!”

Deceit startles on his bed, throwing back the covers (which he really shouldn’t be under this early in the evening) and mumbles just loud enough to hear, “Not tonight, Ree, I’m too tired.”

“Is it because of something they said again? I told them not to get to you, just because we’re different doesn’t mean we’re bad.”

“It doesn’t matter, Remus, just go take care of those unicorns. Maybe tomorrow we can hang out, ok?”

“Oh, um, ok. See you at dinner?”

“I don’t know if I’ll be up to it. Sorry.”

“Alright, let me know if you need anything?”

There was no response. Remus sighed, slumping away to his room.

This went on for weeks. Every day, Janus would come out for breakfast, unhinge his jaw and eat enough for the day, even though he used to eat the same as Remus(in moderation, he refuses to eat eyeballs and pubic hair). Eventually, after about two and a half weeks, Remus had had enough.

When Janus slouched into the kitchen for his daily meal, Remus slammed his hand on the table, “You are coming with me to the imagination!”

“No, Remus. I’m too tired.”

“Nope, nuh-uh, none of that ‘tired’ bullshit, you’ve said that every day for the last month!”

“Re-”

“Nope nope nope! Come with me!” Remus yelled, grabbing Janus’s arm with an unsurprisingly terrifying grin on his face.

Remus dragged Janus to the sickly stone mirror with green ooze globbing out that leads to the imagination, the snake complaining and protesting the whole way.

Once they got there though, none of the things that usually made him happy worked. When Remus had him attack Roman’s unicorns, he only said he didn’t want to make their relationship with the Light Sides even worse. They visited Janus’s giant golden two-headed snake, Eilonwy and Ethelinda, and Janus couldn’t even look her in the eyes(either set of them!). Remus even tried having him watch live musicals by sneaking into Roman’s side of the imagination, but it only reminded him of the movie nights everyone but the Dark Si- now, just Janus were invited too. Remus had stopped going, but still.

After the day spent trying to cheer Janus up in the imagination had no success, Remus decided to bring in the big guns.

The next day, Janus surprisingly didn’t get any visits from Remus. Just one text of a .gif that was weird as hell.

The day after that, however, Janus heard three precise knocks at his door, at precisely 9:00 am. He yelled out, “Remus! Just stop already! I’m fine!” The only response was another precise three knocks at his door at 9:01 am. He only grunted and curled into his heated blanket more, assuming it’s just another one of Remus’s dumb pranks.

After three knocks every minute on the minute for half an hour, Janus caved and opened the door, immediately protesting, “Remus, I swear to Thomas, I-” he stopped dead in his tracks when he looked up and saw who he was objecting to, “Logan?”

“Hello, De- Janus. Remus informed me he was concerned about you, so I have come to see,” Logan pulled out his notecards, “What is up?”

Janus chuckled, pulling the door open wider, “Okay Logan, you can come in.”

Janus puts his hat on as they walk inside, Logan looking around and noticing so much clutter. From what Remus had told him, Janus was a very organized person, almost obsessively so. Plus, the room wasn’t very warm at all, which cannot be good for someone cold-blooded.

When Logan comments on this, Janus simply brushes him off, saying he hasn’t had the time to clean up and his usual heaters would be a fire hazard with the mess.

They sit on some large extravagant armchairs in front of a fireplace, Logan favoring the black one with gold beading while Janus takes the deep yellow one with shiny black beading.

As they sit down, Janus lights the fire with a wave of his hand, trying (and failing) to subtly change his outfit into a clean one from his closet. Logan notices, but decides not to comment.

“So, what did Remus send you for again?”

“Well he didn’t exactly send me, per se, I reached out to him because I hadn’t seen you in a while, he said he would handle it, then he got me when that didn’t work.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, of course. I tried to bring it up to the other Light Sides, but they would not listen. Therefore, going to Remus, and consequently, you, was the best option.”

“Wow, uh, thanks, Logan, I really appreciate that. I assumed none of the Light Sides thought about how things would make us feel.”

“Granted, that is a fair assumption,” Logan quieted down, facing Janus’s bookshelves and silently reading the titles he has, mentally comparing it to books he’s read.

Janus wanted to question Logan about that, but decided to try and get to the point gradually instead, saying, “Logan,” said Side looked up at Janus, “I just want you to know that I’m sorry.”

This made Logan pause and think. After about fifteen painfully silent seconds for Janus, Logan started speaking again, “I apologize, but I do not understand. What are you sorry for exactly?”

“For, ya know, the last video.”

Logan stares at Janus.

Janus groans, “You’re really going to make me say it, huh? Okay, I’m sorry for taking your place earlier in the video.”

“Oh. Yes. That.” Logan stops, trying to formulate a response, “It is quite alright, Janus. While I was a bit hurt in the moment, I appreciate you figuratively beating some sense into the others.”

“Are you sure that you’re actually alright, though?”

“I… well, I do wish you had simply told me.” After Janus sends Logan a questioning look, Logan adds, “I know I would’ve been happy to step down and even let you disguise yourself as me, you didn’t need to knock me out. With those two, it’s very… difficult to get them to actually consider things, I know that first hand, so I entirely understand why disguising yourself as me was the most efficient way to get through to them.”

“Oh, I… I’m so sorry Logan, I hadn’t even considered that. I’m just used to expecting a no, I…”

“As stated before, it’s quite alright. Besides, I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

“What do you mean?”

Logan sighs, looking down at his shoes, “I should’ve spoken up sooner. About the Lights’ treatment of you, I mean. They were unnecessarily cruel to you, and I just stood by. I was… scared. I almost spoke up when Virgil hissed at you when you came to get your hat back from Roman, but I don’t know the whole story between you and Virgil, and I didn’t want to impose. Additionally, I…” Logan took a deep breath, doing a round of the 4, 7, 8 exercise Virgil taught them, “I was scared of being left out. I know I’ve said I don’t have feelings, but I was,” Logan chuckles, “deceitful, in that aspect.”

“Logan,” Janus seemed to be on the brink of tears of relief, “thank you so much. That means so much to me, I… hey, uh, would you want to come over for a movie night this Friday? I know movie nights with the Lights are on Saturdays, so…?”

“That sounds delightful,” Logan started to get up, “I will see you then. I apologize, but I must go. Thomas needs me at my best, I sense he’s about to start editing a new video.”

“No worries, Logan, I’ll see ya Friday.”

And so, Logan came over that Friday, and the Friday after that. After weeks of being holed up in his room, Janus started to come out more often, and Remus was very happy to see more of him. Logan started coming over every Friday, and as time went on, he even started coming over more often just to enjoy Remus and Janus’s company. Sometimes, he would visit Remus’s side of the imagination with them, other times, he would exchange books with Janus and discuss them, and eventually, he would even start inviting Janus and Remus over to view the constellations with him as he explained them and showed them the stars with his telescope.

This went on for months, and eventually, the Light Sides noticed. Whenever asked, though, Logan only stated he needed more time to himself. They laid off for a while, but eventually, it got a little suspicious, especially when they started hearing other voices coming from his room.

Finally, Patton decided to investigate. He heard the voices in Logan’s room while getting him for famILY dinner, and leaned up against the door before knocking.

“And here you’ll see MACS 2129-1, often referred to as the ‘Zombie Galaxy,” Logan happily explains.

“Oh fuck yes!” Remus yells, in turn causing a chuckle to emanate from Janus.

Logan chuckles as well, “Fuck yes indeed, Remus,” Patton gasps almost involuntarily but stays quiet enough so no one notices, “This massive, disk-shaped galaxy spins twice as fast as the Milky Way does, but it's still not nearly as active. Hubble observations of the distant galaxy reveal that it hasn't made stars for approximately 10 billion years. MACS 2129-1 is what's known as a ‘dead galaxy,’ since stars no longer form there. Scientists believed that galaxies of this sort had formed by merging with smaller galaxies over time, but MACS 2129-1's stars didn't form from these sorts of explosive mergers; they formed early on, in the disk of the original galaxy. The findings suggest that dead galaxies somehow internally rearrange their structure as they age rather than changing shape because they combine with other galaxies. I, er, I’m sorry I’m babbling, aren’t I?”

Janus shushes Logan, “No, Logan, we’ve been over this,” Janus gently places his hand on Logan’s slowly reddening cheek, “We love to hear you talk, especially about things that make you happy. Isn’t that right, Remus?”

“Hell yeah, Lo! I love hearing you get so excited about stuff, and I love learning about the stars with you, you’re a great teacher!”

By now, Patton had decided he didn’t want to intrude, he was proud of his kiddos. Logan, for reaching out and making more friends, and Janus and Remus for making Logan feel loved in a way that Patton just couldn’t seem to. He leaned back from the door and walked by, deciding to text Logan to let him know about dinner so he could come if he wanted but he didn’t have to cut his time with the Dark Sides short.

Meanwhile, Logan looked down at his phone and sighed.

“What is it, Lo-Lo?” Remus tilted his head so far to the left his head broke off.

As Remus smacked his head back in place, Logan sighed, “Patton says dinner’s about to start. I really should go.”

“You don’t have to, Logan, you know that right?”

“Yes, I’m aware but I haven’t gone all week and I’m concerned the Lights will think I’m not eating at all. I wouldn’t want Patton to get… upset.”

“Okay, okay, we all remember when Patton went all Hop Pop.”

Logan looked at both of them again with a small, but genuine, smile, dropping it as he sank down to the Light Side’s dining room.

Dinner was… awkward, to say the least.

Patton tried to break the ice, “So, Logan, you’ve been spending a lot of time in your room?”

There was a long, long pause.

“Apologies, I now realize that was a question. I assumed it was a statement. Yes, I have been spending a lot of time in my room.”

“May we ask why?” Roman sarcastically asked.

“I find that I’m more productive when I stay in my room.”

“Well, I’ve heard some other voices coming from your room…” Patton hesitantly added.

“What are you insinuating, Patton.” Logan harshly said, not asked, eyes harsh and cold.

“Well, I, uh-”

Virgil gently cut off Patton’s scrambling, “You know that we won’t be mad if you want to hang out with Remus and Janus, right?”

“Right!” Patton started, “We were actually talking about it some earlier, and we’d love to start having them over for famILY meals too!”

Logan raised an eyebrow, “Is Roman on board with this?”

Roman sighed, “I may have some issues with my brother, but a true prince wouldn’t stop other relationships from forming just because he didn’t like the other party. I know Remus, and he won’t hurt you,” he thought back to the shuriken, “well, not permanently at least.”

Logan smiled, the first genuine smile he had shown the Light Sides in months. “I can tell them.”

“Wait, Logan,” Logan looks back at Patton, “Christmas is this Friday, and well I can’t think of a better day to expand our famILY!”

Logan chuckled, “I’ll let them know,” he started to head back to his room but paused and turned to look back at the Lights, “Oh, and I’m staying with them on Christmas Eve. Apologies.”

“No problem, Logan! Thanks for letting us know!”

Once Logan got back to his room, he gave the Dark Sides the news. “Remus, Janus, I have some news.”

Remus popped up from where he was looking at his newest dagger under Logan’s covers, “Oooh? What is it, Wolverine?”

“Patton, and subsequently the other Light Sides, have invited you two and I to a famILY meal on Christmas,” Logan noticed how Janus and Remus’s eyes lit up but ignored it in favor of finishing his announcement, “I have informed them that I will be with you on Christmas Eve.”

Janus smiled, “That’s great! So, you told them about us?” Logan sat at his chess table with Janus, “Well, technically they guessed, but yes. They asked about me spending time in my room, then stated they did not disapprove of our… relationship, I suppose.”

Janus smiled, “That’s great, Lo.”

That Christmas Eve, the trio sat around the fireplace in the Dark Side’s living room. They cuddled together under a Big Hero 6 blanket while watching Die Hard, which they all of course agreed was the best Christmas movie. They had stayed up pretty late, and once the movie was over, Remus started excitedly jumping up and down, “It’s after midnight! It’s officially Christmas!”

Logan sleepily checked his watch, “You are correct, but I do not see how this is currently relevant?”

“Now I can give you guys my presents!”

Remus kept bouncing on the balls of his feet until Janus happily sighed, “Alright, what did you get us?”

Remus squealed, “I’ll show you!” while running to his room.

Janus and Logan chuckled together until Logan spoke up, “I, ahem, got you gifts as well. Would it be adequate for me to go get them?”

“Sure, I actually got some for you guys too. We’ll all go get them and meet back here.”

Logan smiled, nodded, and sank out.

When they all returned, they all had light blushes on their faces. “Who would like to go first? In handing out their presents, that is.” Logan awkwardly asked.

“I do!” Remus excitedly shouted. Logan and Janus were very much not surprised, and they all sat down on the carpet in front of the couch.

Once they were seated, Remus yeeted the presents at their recipients, both of which catching their present with ‘oof’s.

Janus ripped his open to reveal a long black cape with golden lining. He was about to start thanking Remus for the warm fabric when the clasp on it caught his eye. He looked closer, seeing a beautiful silver clasp depicting a snake and eight tentacles wrapping around a unicorn. Not trapping it, it felt more like… hugging. Protecting. He flipped it over to see an engraving, ‘J.L.R.’ “Thank you, Remus! I especially like the clasp, and the warmth and style are both surprisingly practical!”

Logan respectfully undid the poorly done tape and placed the wrapping paper to the side, opening the box to see some soft black and white fabric. When he took it out of the box and unfolded it, he saw it was a new unicorn onesie, this one black with stars instead of white, with a rainbow horn, lining, and wrists. Logan started to tear up, holding it back when he addressed Remus, “Thank you, Remus, this is… perfect.”

Despite how calmly it was stated, Janus and Remus both knew how much something had to mean to Logan for him to call it perfect.

Logan went next, getting Janus a new heated blanket with his yellow two-headed snake logo on it, which he loved. Next, he looked at Remus, “So, I did some research, and I got you something. But before I give it to you, I require confirmation that you will not use this on another side.”

“Ooo! Is it a torture device!?”

“Yes. But you cannot have it until you at least promise me that you will not use this on another side. You can use it on as many of yours or Roman’s unsuspecting imaginary townspeople as you wish, but not. A. Side.”

“Jeez, Wolverine, I promise, okay?! Now gimme.” Remus made grabby hands at Logan.

Logan reached behind his back and emerged with a metal dark grey and green pear-shaped object. He holds it out to Remus and he grabs it, “Remus, this is a Pear of Anguish. The first known account of one is in the 17th century, and it is operated as so,” Logan gently pulls the device back from Remus’s hands and twists the circle at the top, making it pop out into expanding segments, “This simple pear would be placed inside the orifice of a person and then gradually expanded. The kindest use was in a person’s mouth where it would ultimately shatter the skull, causing death. More gruesome is when it was used on parts in the lower half of the body which was rarely fatal, but excruciating.”

Remus giggled at ‘lower half of the body’ “Thank you so much, Logan! I can’t wait to try this out, you’re the best!”

Janus went last, giving Remus a silver tentacle-themed ear cuff, which he enjoyed very much, putting it on right away. Next, he gave Logan a gigantic telescope with stars and math equations all over it, with Logan’s logo big on the side. Logan teared up at the thoughtfulness and hugged Janus tight.

The three ended up spending the whole night and day following snuggling together watching cheesy Christmas romcoms, and drinking hot chocolate.

That evening, on the Light Side of the mindscape, the Lights once again did a Secret Santa. Sadly, Janus and Remus weren’t included since their attendance was decided so late, but Patton made sure to get them each something.

Logan got Roman this year, so he got him a journal full of prompts in which he could write, draw, or brainstorm. Patton got Logan, and he made him a bunch of cupcakes with the Logan’s Berry Crofters Jam, which Logan was eternally thankful for. Roman got Virgil, and he got him a grey weighted blanket which he altered by sewing on purple plaid patches with white thread to match the emo’s hoodie. Virgil was thankful he got Patton, getting him a better gift than before by hand sewing small toys of all of them, sheepishly adding he’d make Remus and Janus too “I guess.” Patton got Remus a stuffed animal of a green octopus with a mustache and he got Janus a stuffed animal of a yellow snake with a bowler hat that had a small heater inside.

Everyone loved their gifts and had a great time, but Logan couldn’t decide what his favorite part of that Christmas was; unwrapping presents with the Dark Sides at midnight or eating Crofters-filled cupcakes with them late Christmas night when all the Light Sides had gone to bed.

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years ago

Text

LOBO SONORA

Hank ‘Tranq’ Loza x Reader

Anon asked: Hi! I hope your doing okay💜 I was wondering if you could write an imagine where the reader is an old lady (you can write this for any member of the Mayans, I didn't think of anyone specifically) and she seems like this cozy housewife but one day she kicks the shit out a burglar and she explains to her family that she is the daughter of a crime boss and she was taught how to fight by him and other members of her family. I hope you have a great day / night and thank you💜💜💜💜

Word Count: 1.3k

Author comments: What about a second part? This work wasn't re-edited, so I'm sorry if you find grammar mistakes! I hope you all enjoy. Gif isn't mine, credits to the author.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 @1-800-imagines @briana-mishell24 @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish @rebel-without-cause-x @xx--day-dreamer--xx @spiced-reads @tita127 @ifoundmyhappythought @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @angelxshiba @destynelseclipsa @sheeshgivemeabreak @abbiesthings @knowles-morgan @lady-pswrld @minnicelli @marquelapage @bigcreatorwombatdreamer ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

“Shit, baby, wait!”

Tranq stops his bike, like Bishop and Taza does. You were about to have dinner at the ranch, when you noticed that your phone isn't inside your pocket.

“Just one second, caballeros!”

The front yard of the clubhouse is empty, with the lights turned off, so taking off the helmet from your hair you lead your steps towards the porch. Coming in and illuminating the living room, you have one quickly look to the poker table, finding your phone there. Grabbing it, you turn around hearing some steps walking closer.

“I foun— ¿Quién chingados eres tú?” (Who the hell are you?)

A man wearing a spooky mask is in front of you, pointing you with a gun and making a gesture with his free hand for you to close the door. But even if the logic would ask for help, it's the first time in seven years that someone threatens you like that and your body reacts before your brain. The guy is close enough to be hitten by your right leg, going straight to his forearm to make the gun fall down, getting shot in the meantime. The bullet impacts in the virgin, alerting the Mayans.

The man tries to hit you back, but you use the helmet to punch him on the face, unbalancing him to the left, before squatting to move your leg from his right ankle to his heels; making him fall to the floor. Everything happens in less than three seconds, when your husband and the other two mexicans appear.

“Are you okay?” Tranq runs towards you, cupping your cheeks in his hands, while you nod somewhat nervously.

Bishop takes off the mask from the man, but they look at you two, before looking at Taza. No one knows him.

“Who has sent you?”

“Lobo Sonora”. He replies between some painful growls. “Her father”.

“What?” Your husband looks confused, taking some steps away from you. And you can't blame him. You never told him who you really are.

———————————————————

“Madre de los Mayas” that's how the whole Cali knows you by. The perfect wife, the perfect mother, the perfect friend. But you're far away to be perfect, you don't even want to be it. You just take care of your chosen family, like your blood family never did. You ran away from Sonora when your father tried to make you marry someone you didn't love. Someone that used to denigrate you in several ways. And maybe Santo Padre was too close from your hometown, Hermosillo, but you didn't care about it. Your father knows pretty well where you are, but for a damn time he respected your decision. Now, you would like to know what the hell he wants, after almost eight years without crossing the border.

But first, you have to answer some questions that you never thought you would have to answer.

The three men are sitting in their respective chairs, while you had a seat on the other front of the main table inside the Templo. It's been a couple hours since you caught the mexican your father sent to have contact with you, without using phones. Tranq looks disappointed, bemused and furious. All in one. All because of you and your half truths.

“I love you”. You say when Bishop is about to talk. “I really do, Hank”.

“I don't trust you anymore. I don't know who you are… And all I care about, right now, is my club”.

“Brother, let her explain himself”. Taza says raising a hand to calm your husband.

“I don't want”. He simply replies, before getting up from his chair.

“Hank, listen…”

“Don't fucking dare to talk to me”. He points you with a forefinger, when you try to face him before leaving the Templo.

Sitting down again, you nail your elbows on the table starting to cry, sinking your face into your palms. It hurts the other men too. They know you're not a liar. They know you're not a traitor. So they wait in silence for you, to explain yourself.

“I ju—just ran away from Sonora… I didn't wa—want to follow his orders”. You say after some minutes, between sobs and deep breaths.

“What orders, querida?”

“My father… My father wanted me to ma—marry a Vato”.

“One of El Palo's men?” Che leans over the table, shaking his head slightly.

You nod.

“You, better than anybody in the Mayans, knows what it means”.

“And that's it…?”

“Beatings, rapes, scapegoats…” The Apache turns to the mexican, making him lying on his chair snorting and rubbing his face. “That's what they do to their wives, hermano. That's for what they use them”.

“I ha—have information about my father… that could burn down his empire. I wi—will give it to you, if you want it”.

“I believe you, (Y/N). You don't have to prove us a shit, okay?” Bishop highlights then, letting you breathe for a second. Turning to the vice, he has a drag from his cigar. “Find out why they sent that pendejo for. I'll talk with Tranq”.

“Bish…” You call him, while they get up from their chairs. “I'm sorry… I'm really sorry for not telling you about it. I tho—thought my father just… gave up on me”.

“Mamá Maya, estás salvo aquí”. (You're safe here) He replies caressing your left cheek with the back of his fingers. “Wait here”.

As soon as they leave you alone, closing the glass door, you break into pieces. You really appreciate that they trust in you, but if your husband doesn't, you're lost. You love him more than anything. You've been together for the last seven years and your love turned into a beautiful warrior called Alma. You can't imagine a day without waking up by his side, while your daughter jumps on the mattress. You can't imagine a night without watching your husband reading a story to your baby, before going to sleep together, telling him how much you love him in the intimacy of your room. You were living in hell for twenty years, until you found Tranq. He saved you.

When the door gets opened again, you're unable to turn around, recognizing his smell flooding the empty room. Closing it, he walks towards you, sitting on the next chair and resting his forearms against the edge of the table. His look is lost in the middle of nowhere, organizing his ideas inside his head, keeping silence and making you feel scared.

“Why did you leave Sonora?”

“My father wa—wanted me to marry Pablo Santos”.

You know that you don't need to say anything else, when he turns his face and his attention towards you.

“Does your father know about me, about Alma?” You nod slowly. “Did you tell him?”

“The last time I talked with him wa—was eight years ago”. Shaking your head and cleaning the tears, you curl a leg against your chest above the chair. “But he is ‘Lobo Sonora’, he knows everything”.

“You should go home”. Tranq just says, getting up with a heavy snort.

“Hank, please”. Quickly, you hold his hand standing up. “Please… don't leave me. I beg you”.

“I'll stay here to know what your father wants”.

“I will wait for you, then. Alma is… with Leti till tomorrow”.

“(Y/N)...”

“Please”.

Your husband cups your face into his huge hands, leaning forward to kiss your forehead and all that you can feel is your legs about to falter. He catches your lips between his in a dearly kiss, caressing your cheeks with both thumbs. So warm, so gentle, like he usually is with you.

“Go to my room, try to sleep. I'll be there in a few”.

“I love you”. You just say, letting a tear run away from your left eye.

“I know it, vida mía. I know it”.

#mayans mc x reader #mayans mc #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #tranq loza x reader #tranq loza #hank tranq loza #hank tranq loza x reader #tranq losa x reader

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coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe · 3 years ago

Text

Bloody, Beaten, Bruised or Maximum Effort

Quick Tag List: @kuruumiya @spacelizardtrashboys @enigmaticandunstable @nattinngrst @amyofaquitaine

This passage contains potentially: scenes of one (or more) characters swearing, blood, self-harm (unintentional) and scenes of a violent nature. whump content and potential tear-jerking moments.

Summary: In this 'chapter' Kirby has her first fight in New Jersey, and stay in New Jersey for a week, leading to some heavy whump content by a certain someone.

Kirby's POV:

Standard match, one on one with a ten minute time limit. Not much for a debut but it's made into a big deal upon learning the opponents were male and female and not the standard male on male.

Jobber VS Newcomer.

Andrew Strong VS Kirby 'Gluttony' Lucifarian.

The bell rings and the fight starts.

"Strong throws the first punch and misses."

"The Ogress capitalises and hits him with a Feeding Frenzy."

"Strong is backed into the turnbuckle but the Ogress continues her attack."

"The referee is forced to separate them and Strong gets The Ogress in a lock-up."

"A swift knee to the stomach and Strong is staggered."

"The Ogress hits Strong with the Organ Grinder and it looks like it's all over."

"She covers Strong and … one … two … three. She's done it! The Ogress has won!"

Walking back to the locker room, I caught a glimpse of Moolah as she sneers at me and I shrug her off, focusing on getting into some clean clothes and going back to the hotel. I change and walk out of the dressing room with my bag slung over my shoulder.

"Good work out there, Kirby."

I recognise the voice and turn to see André, "Thank you, Drey."

"Moolah, doesn't seem to like you girls."

"We're stealing the hag's time in the sun. She always hates people who do that, even if she brings them in. I'll see you soon Drey."

"See you soon, Kirby."

I start walking back to the hotel when I start hearing a voice behind me, gradually getting closer.

"Hey, Miss, I think you dropped this." A distinctly masculine voice called out.

I turned around to see what the person wanted. To my surprise they had picked up my wallet, "Huh, I didn't feel it fall out of my pocket, thank you."

The man handed it to me before introducing himself, "Paul Orndorff. I saw your match earlier, you're fast for a giant, tough too."

"Thank you, Mr Orndorff."

He looked over his shoulder, "Oh, well, I have to go, Piper's waiting for me."

"Uh well, bye Mr Orndorff."

He left without another word and I unzipped my bag slightly to place my wallet inside, zipping it back up and continuing back to the hotel. I spent the night in a cramped hotel room and went to the gym the next morning.

Setting myself up at a heavy bag and practicing as per usual, no interruptions, no one else near by to talk to.

It was as if my mind just drifted away and I went into this mental fog, no gloves on but punching as if I did, breaking through the skin on my knuckles and only stopping after I noticed smears of blood on the heavy bag.

I wiped it down and bandaged my knuckles before moving on to doing push ups, lunges, squats and other exercises that wouldn't leave me covered in blood.

I was alone for the rest of the day, so I ordered some pizza (simple, pepperoni) and relaxed in the hotel, I pulled out a sketch book from my suitcase and began sketching.

I didn't plan on sketching anything too important so I just went with what was on my mind, which happened to be Roddy, Jeez it's like I'm becoming emotionally attached to this idiot.

When I see him next I'll give him the drawing if I have it with me. I close the sketchbook and go back to the gym for around an hour, before coming back to the hotel and getting some rest.

I woke up the next morning (January 9th) and had a day much the same as the last, got up, did my morning routine, went to the gym, came back, ordered Chinese food and started drawing. It was just a shitty little thing, but once again, the Rowdy one came to mind.

What is it with Scottish men and me, is it because I'm a quarter Scottish, is it maybe because I believe in the folk tales and stories of old, of knights on white steeds, saving fair maidens and living happily ever after, while the monsters they kill or maim lie in a pool of their own blood and wish they could've had a different life?

I have no idea, and the idea of my own mind comparing me with those monsters makes me regret ever reading those stories while growing up, rather I should have stuck my head into scientific textbooks instead of tales of heroism and fantastical ghouls, then I would have never become and wrestler or met the amazing people in my life.

I look back down at the paper and decide to let Roddy have two final full page drawings on the other side of the sketches I've already drawn of him, I add in a small note on the page under a picture of Roddy that Sam had found.

The more I looked at the drawings and that lone picture, the more I realised the small details of Roddy's features, the strong jaw with a cleft chin, his hazel eyes? or are they dark blue? either way they intrigue me. And that musculature, Roddy's not slim but not a big man either, he's at that almost perfect weight to body fat ratio. Good lord, listen to me calling … Piper, Roddy, Him, perfect. I think I want to be sick, just to be rid of those thoughts.

Right as I run into the small bathroom I hear a commotion in the hallway and someone being thrown or more accurately, hurled into the other side of the bathroom wall. I take a deep breath, re-fix my mask into it's usual position and dart out into the corridor, right as the commotion ends.

The obvious victim of the bout was on the floor face down with a long, not to deep cut down the back of their left leg and was breathing heavily when I reached them.

"Woah, hey, hey buddy." I whispered to them in an effort to calm them.

"Kirby?"

FUCK

…

That Glaswegian accent, fuck, He's not even supposed to be in town, or is he?

"Piper?!" I whisper-yelled, more to myself than to him.

"Hey…" his voice trailed off, I heaved him over my shoulder and went back into my hotel room, tossing him down on the only bed and grabbing his left foot, reaching over to my suitcase and getting my personal first aid kit, nothing too fancy, some bandages, plasters, the bare essentials. I cleaned the cut and bandaged it, taping the bandage in place.

I glanced up from Roddy's leg and saw that he had passed out, "Shit." I muttered to myself, louder than I thought and his eyes flickered open.

"Kirby? Is that you?" His voice weak but still understandable.

I stood there, frozen to the spot, unable to move, I wanted to cry as I realised how badly he had been beaten up, his eyebrow cut, coming close to his eye, his hairline a mix of matted brown hair and blood that was starting to coagulate and then I started to notice more things wrong with Roddy's visage.

His shirt (a Piper classic, yellow with a wild cat graphic) was torn in several places, showing bruises and nicks in his flesh. His kilt, however, was fully intact, including his belt and sporran, though all of it was scuffed with little scratches, but no cuts.

"Kirby? Kirby talk to me, please?" He spoke so carefully and it broke me.

I dropped to my knees, weeping, and Roddy shot to his feet, before dropping down on his left side and leaning on the bed, getting only a couple of steps closer to me.

"Kirby, are you okay?"

"Roddy, look at ya," I took a deep breath in, "How can you be so beat up and worried about me? How is that possible?"

"Kirby? look at ya, you're crying over me? I thought you didn't care about me that much?"

I wiped the tears from my face and got Roddy back on the bed.

"Stay there, Piper."

"Oh, feisty."

"Roddy! Stay on the bed and don't move."

"Yes Ma'am."

I trudged into the bathroom and ran a long cold shower, and I heard him move off the bed before swearing and sitting back on the bed.

"I thought I said, DON'T MOVE Roddy!"

"Alright, alright. … feisty"

After the shower, I dressed in the bathroom after drying myself off and exited the room. I instantly noticed a sleeping Piper.

"I guess I'll sleep on the floor then."

"C'mere." He lazily waved his arm to try and beckon me over.

"No, Roddy, get some rest."

"Come here and get in the bed." He rolled over and picked up the duvet, lackadaisically blowing a joking kiss in my direction.

"Jesus, Roddy, fine."

I climbed into the bed and felt Roddy's arms curl around my waist and his face between my shoulder blades.

"Rod, get off."

"Wha'?"

"Get off of me."

"Why?"

"Aren't you married, get off."

"if I was married, there would be a ring on my finger," He waved his left hand in front of my face, "No ring, no wife."

"Oh. Still, get off."

"Now, would that be 'get off' in the, leave me alone, way or the 'get off' in the, I love you take me now, way." The latter a clear joke but it annoyed me even more.

"Leave me alone, Roddy."

He slid his arms off and rolled to face the other way.

"Small bed, Kirby."

"I wasn't expecting company, Piper."

"Your tattoos are nice."

"Sleep, Piper."

"I'm just saying."

"Roddy, you are injured, sleep."

"I looked through your sketchbook earlier, y'know, when you were in the shower, just flicked through it, and wow, you're a great artist."

"For the love of God, Roddy! would you please just get some sleep."

"Alright!, alright. No need to yell."

"One more word and I'm chucking you out the nearest window."

We both fell silent and managed to get some sleep, it wasn't until sunrise that either one of us awoke. As I stirred from my slumber I was face to face with the Scottish idiot. I yelped and, without realising his legs were intertwined with mine, fell off the bed with him falling on top of me, waking Roddy up in the process.

"Oh, well, morning sweetheart, did I wake ya."

"Rod, get ya damn 'Loch Ness Monster' away from me."

Rod's cheeks turned pink and he quickly looked down between our bodies before sheepishly standing up and hurrying to the bathroom, I took the chance to change into a graphic tee and some black jeans, not noticing that Piper had left the bathroom door wide open, until I heard his voice.

"Woah, so uh, all of you is bigger than normal?"

I yelped and threw one of my shirts at his face, before realising that I had thrown the shirt I was planning on wearing at him, "Wait, Roddy, I need that shirt."

He laughed before handing me back my shirt, "Uh, thank you … for …saving me last night."

"Were you even supposed to be in town?"

"Well no, but I …" He trailed off

"I can't hear you, Roddy?"

"It's nothing, really."

I continued on with my normal routine, mindful that Roddy was in the same room as me and injured. It wasn't until the phone rang that I had a problem, before I could reach the phone Roddy had already answered it.

"Who is this?"

I could hear a loud, angry voice on the phone and Piper got defensive.

"You think you're a hard man do ya?!"

Damien. That's got to be Damien, which means I am in some real trouble now. Thanks Piper, ya dafty.

"I'll get her to call ya back once you've calmed down."

He slammed the phone back into it's place and breathed out a hefty sigh.

"Kirby, is Damien your boyfriend?" He seemed instantaneously calm

I almost choked on air for a moment, "No! He's my manager, and he's like double my age. He's Vic," I paused for a moment, "He's my dad, as well as the other members of the D.O.D. We're not all his biological daughters though, just Vickie."

"So, he adopted you?"

"I guess you could say that." I avoided looking him in the eyes.

"Tell me the truth. Now!"

"Promise you won't tell anyone first."

"I won't tell a soul, now, why are you so, uptight, about who he is to you."

"First things first, my name isn't Kirby Lucifarian, it's actually Kirby Trevor."

"Oh, so Damien's not you're adoptive father, either?"

"No, my real parents are Heaven and Eric Trevor. Damien's Vickie's dad and only Vickie's dad."

"Are either one of your parents giants? or is it just you?"

"Just me, the closest person to me in height, family-wise was my uncle Rory. He's the reason I have the tattoo on my wrist."

I walked up to Piper and showed him the 'R' tattooed on my right wrist.

"So, he passed away?"

"Yeah. He died, eleven, no no, twelve years ago now, when I was Seventeen, My uncle Vaughn died a couple months later, he's why I have the lighter on my left arm, my uncle Vaughn was best known for being, in the nicest terms, a layabout smoker, and the smoke took him in the end."

"So, you have a lighter to remember a man who died by smoking?"

"Dark, I know, but uncle Vaughn would've laughed at it. Erik laughed at it when I explained it to him."

"Eric, your dad?"

"No, no, Erik, with a 'K', my old tag partner before I joined the D.O.D. I think you would've liked him."

"Really, now why would I like a guy I know nothing about?"

"Well, Erik's Scottish, He's from Edinburgh. He's tall-ish, then again I am a giant, so who am I to say what's tall, he's six-foot-five. He played the bagpipes when he was younger, he quit playing when he was twenty-three, same year we lost the tag titles."

"Rough," He interrupted "Continue, please."

"Uh, well. Erik's strong, very strong, he would compete in the Highland games and well, … I guess back then I thought I'd never leave him, until Damien gave me an offer I couldn't refuse and I left him. I had a whole life with him planned inside my head and I left it all behind, for what, cramped hotel rooms and breakfasts with André."

"You had breakfast with André the giant and you didn't tell me … You, You had a good Scottish man, and you left him, for," He gestured to the room, "all this?"

"Well I jus-"

"No," He held my jaw and looked me straight in the eyes, "You had a life, a man who obviously a close relationship with you, and you gave it up for breakfasts with André and shitty hotel rooms."

"I know I'm stupid."

"But you're not stupid, you saved me, I could have died in that hallway and you brought me in here, you stopped that bastard from killing me. I could kiss you."

"Please don't."

Sorry for cliff-hanger ending, but … END OF BLOODY, BEATEN, BRUISED or MAXIMUM EFFORT.

#Lucifarians #wrestling fic

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renee-writer · 3 years ago

Text

There For You Chapter 48 Birth Day

AO3

Their wide eyes meet. “Well, I guess it worked.” Jamie says, his voice shaking. He slips his hands on her waist to help her off.

She feels the warm water running down her thigh, mixing with his semen. The combination smells like life, like the sea. She feels a bit faint at the knowledge that their baby is definitely on the way. As much as she wanted it, the reality… “Yes. I should shower, right. No bath now but.. oh do you think we have time?” Her hands and pulse are both jumping. He takes her hands, rubbing across them.

“Yes. Come let’s shower. Then we will place the hospital bag in the boot, call the hospital and the midwife and head out. I will call the others as they check you in. It is okay baby, you got this. No, we do.” He watches her breath slow. He leads them into the shower.

An hour later.

“Ohhhh!” She moans as she balances on the labor ball. It moves under her as she moves responding instinctively to what her body needs. He stands in front of her, her hands in his. “Ahhhh, oh God!” A shaky breath as the pain eases.

“Good job. That is one less.” Her eyes stay closed as she keeps swaying on the huge ball. Deep in herself, she is dealing with the increasing pain by self hypnosis. When they had arrived, she was at two centimeters. She was determined to be at five when next checked. Outside, in the waiting room, all their family and friends are gathered.

“Ahhh!” she pulls in deeper as the pain raises up again. Jamie tightens his hands over hers. It is a form of grounding.

“Okay baby. Just…” Her eyes fly open, meeting his with a look that stops his flow of words instantly. Okay then. Silence. She re- closes her eyes but is unable to get on top of it. A deeper moan and her head moves back and forth. A sense of helplessness washes over him. Unable to do anything but hold her hands, he pushes all his strength into her. The moans grow loader as the pain crests. A deep sigh as it goes down.

“Jesus,” Jamie thinks. He knew, they had watched child birth videos. Had went to the classes. But nothing prepares a person fully for watching the person they love in that level of pain.

“Need to walk.” He helps her up, placing his arm around her as they circle the room. “I am sorry… it is just..”

“Baby, you can tell at me all you want, yell at me all you want.” He is quick to assure. “you are the bravest person I have ever meet.”

“Jamie, I love you. Ohhhhh!” It is the hardest yet. Gripping her inside like a vise. Twisting her uterus inside out, or so it feels like. She is unable to even try to get on top of it. All she can do is scream. Jamie freezes before pressing his hand on the center of her back, instinct as old as Adam guiding him. Her scream fades into broken sobs as it crests and fades, way to slowly. They are both breathing heavy when it ends

“Better baby.” It is a stupid statement but he is feeling a bit shaky. She takes pity and nods.

“Yes. For now. Not sure how I will get through this.”

“One at a time.” Another nod. “Do you want back on the ball or to keep walking?”

“Keep walking. Thank you.” They walk for a moment more before the pain returns. She stills, pulling in her breath. He presses the flat of his hand on her back. She moans and starts to sway, her eyes tightly closed. He watches her face with relief. She is handling it better then the last one.

The midwife enters silently, waiting. When her clients eyes open and she lets out a shaky breath, she speaks. “May I check you?”

“Yes please. At least five centimeters, that is the goal.”

“Do I need to move her back to the bed?”

“No, I will check her right here.” He watches her get down on the floor between Claire’s legs. She slips her glove covered fingers in. “Not five.” A groan from Claire. “No, you are at six. Excellent progress “

“Oh, thank God.” She gets quiet still and starts the groan out. The midwife stays between her legs, watching how the contraction effects her cervix. “Ahhh God!” It hurt. The pain is indescribably rough. It would be though as it opens her up another centimeter. The first pain of the hell of transition.

“Seven.” She announces as it eases. Jamie bites his lip. He knows. Claire does to as she closes her eyes, pulling in internal strength.

“Please take me back to the ball.” He moves her to it just in time.

They come one after the other. Any time between them feels like none as the pain takes her completely under it’s control. She screams, grabs a breath and screams again. The midwife tries to tell her to conserve her energy but she curses her out.. “F#ck you!” Before resuming her panting screams. It is the longest hour of their lives.

“Oh, have to push.” The midwife opens her thighs to reveal a fully opened cervix.

“Yes push.” She changes her gloves and gathers up her birthing supplies, a blanket and hat, scissors, a bowl to catch the afterbirth. A grunt and she bears down. “Good just like that.” Jamie holds her hands as she presses against his chest and the ball. A breath, another push, and again. “Chestnut hair and a lot of it.” Another grabbed breath and push. Sweat rolls down her body. Jamie’s hands are bone white as she clings to them. The midwife’s hands are on the stretching skin rubbing oil on it as she eases the baby’s emerging head out. A grunt from mam and another push. “He he.” As her mouth and nose is cleaned out. Another massive push as her shoulders are eased out, one after the other. A strange feeling of release as she slips the rest of the way out. Hands reach out for her and she is lifted into her mammy’s arms as daddy sobs behind her.

“Welcome to the world Ellie Julianne Fraser. Happy birthday.”

#my writing #outlander fanfic #crossover #jamie and claire #there for you #birth day #cannon divergence #outlander fandom #modern au

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skybiome · 4 years ago

Text

And when the sun comes up, you’ll find a brand new god.

Chapter 3

Beginning | Previous | Next

ao3

tw: mild unreality

Techno woke up face down on a forest floor. He rolled over, and was faced with the tallest trees he’d ever seen. A navy sky fought through the foliage as the sun sat low on the horizon, casting massive shadows across the needle and leaf coated floor.

The patch of ground Techno had landed on was swept clean of organic material, leaving bare dirt. On one side of the clearing was a stone statue of a person. Opposite the statue was a footpath that wound around the trees and disappeared into the distance. Techno got to his feet and approached the monument

It should have been a life size monument of a person standing on a small pedestal, sword drawn and held out in front of them with a pair of wings spread behind him. Instead, the arm had broken off and fallen to the dirt floor. The wings had likewise broken off near their bases, and foliage had grown over the broken limbs.

Time had worn the statue’s face smooth, and removed several of the letters from the plaque on the bottom pedestal. The first part of the starting word was the most damaged, but the rest of the script was fairly legible.

It read, “----ZA, GOD OF SURVIVAL AND SOLITUDE. PATRON OF CHILDREN AND THE HURT. PROTECTOR OF THIS FOREST AND THE ONES IN IT.”

If he focused, a script running along the blade of the fallen sword read “Justice”. It’s name most likely.

Even severely worn down, the statue seemed content in its current state. If this really was a land blessed by a deity, Techno doubted they would have let age damage an image of them so. This whole area would have been created by Wilbur, but the monster hunter wouldn’t put it past him to get a few other gods involved. The deities of the land were well acquainted with one another.

The sun had risen slightly. Techno’s blood dyed clothes shimmered in the growing daylight. Turning away from the statue, he started down the trodden path. After spending days on end wandering circles around a stone labyrinth, Techno was surprised to reach civilization after only an hour’s walk.

A small village was set up surrounding a central well. There was no movement in the windows, but the location seemed lived in. Gardens were well kept and wheel tracks were freshly made in the dew dampened dirt. But this was just all a setting made by Wilbur. Simulating a fully functioning town would be difficult and time consuming, even for a god.

Letting that train of thought fizzle out, Techno gravitated towards the only building in the central plaza with light on inside. A sign outside the building declared it the Core Inn. Opening the door revealed a room full of tables that should be brimming with patrons. Instead, the only moving figure was polishing some glasses behind.

Blond with stubble and a green and white bucket hat. He looked kind enough. His most eye catching features were the massive black wings on his back, though.

At the sound of the doors, he looked up. The bartender didn’t look very surprised at the sign of someone wearing gold stained clothes stumbling in. Instead, he just waved Techno towards the bar top.

Techno sat down at the bar, and was incredibly relieved when the man turned around before speaking. He didn’t have the energy for a face to face conversation right now.

“What brings you to my little town?”

Techno set his head down on the wooden tabletop. “Can we please not do this, right now?” He knew he was filthy, but he was so tired of being awake.

There was a pause before the man let out a questioning, “Alright?” After a moment, he continued with, “What do you want to do then?”

The monster hunter groaned. “I just want a bed. I don’t have money, but I can pay you back with work.”

His bag of money had gotten torn off during the fight with the gryphon. Techno didn’t need sleep, but he wanted nothing more than to stop thinking for a few hours. Wandering through a maze for weeks was far from the most stimulating things, and the contrast from blank stone walls to the wind blowing through a forest was overwhelming.

“Okay, I can probably find something for you to do around here. Come on, then-” he parsed that sentence by softly knocking on the table by Techno’s head “-follow me.”

Techno took a moment, but slid off the stool. The man led him down a hall lined with doors to various rooms. Pulling a keyring off his belt, he unlocked the door and held it open. Techno walked right past him and was asleep before he even hit the bed surface.

---

When he woke up, starlight was struggling to fight through the canopy of the forest outside his window. . The monster hunter tried to bury himself in the blankets of the bed and disappear for a few more precious hours, but his eternally healing body would only let him sleep for so long.

Techno hadn’t slept indoors in years. It was cheaper to sleep outdoors, and it involved less human interaction. A win for everyone involved, in his expert opinion. His gold stained boots moved silently over the finished wooden floor.

Walking around the corner, he was faced with an even emptier tavern setting than the day before. Even the bartender was gone. The lamps on the walls were still lit, though. A note sat on the end of the bar, facing towards the hall Techno emerged from.

It read, “Gone out to do something. There’s a bath drawn up in the room behind the kitchen with clean clothes. You look like you could use it.”

The gore coated man set the note face down on the bartop, and went to see what was beyond the kitchen. True to the note’s promise, a large tub full of water sat in the room, along with soap, towels, and fresh clothes. He locked the sliding bolts on both doors and stripped out of his tattered clothes.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a proper bath. The closest he’d gotten was walking in the rain, or getting thrown into a river or lake by a monster. The water of the bath was even pleasantly warm. Techno certainly took his sweet time, washing himself and the blood out of his hair. If he could, he would have fallen back asleep in the warmth of the water.

But eventually, Techno pulled himself out of the tub and toweled off. He dried his hair the best he could. It was already down to his lower back, and he’d need to cut it soon. Techno glanced over at his sheath, which had moved itself out of his pile of discarding clothing, and was now leaning against the side of the tub.

The man’s expression fell at the physical reminder of his curse, and decided against cutting it right now. The hair was one of the few aspects of his affliction he didn’t mind. Techno liked having his hair long, but it often got in his way and was a lot to take care of. He could cut it when he left the small town.

Right now, he let it hang loose and put on the clothes provided to him. A plain white shirt and black pants that were nearly identical to the ones he’d been wearing before, along with a deep green cloak. Green wasn’t normally his color, but it would do until it changed. He pulled on the boots, and walked back out into the kitchen.

Despite it still being dark outside, the bartender had returned, and was reading a book on the other side of the counter top. A glance at the back of the bar revealed very little. Only about 3 glasses and a singular, unopened bottle of wine met Techno’s vision. Whenever Wilbur had created this place, he’d done a very poor job of detailing it.

While the monster hunter had been silently judging the deity’s decorative abilities, the winged bartender had closed his book. Techno looked up at the man. He took that as his cue to speak.

“My name’s Phil. It’s nice to meet you.”

Techno nodded and simply offered, “Technoblade.”

Phil didn’t seem discouraged by his curt reply. Instead the winged man pushed himself off the bar stool and walked around to the back of the bar. Taking the hint, Techno moved back to the front and sat down on a stool.

“Do you want something to eat?” The bartender was facing away from Techno, resting his hand against the door to the kitchen.

The monster hunter hummed for a moment, before answering with, “sure.”

The feathered man nodded, and entered the back room, leaving Techno alone in the mainroom of the inn. About 30 seconds later, Phil re-emerged with a plate full of steaming hot food.

That shouldn’t have been possible. Techno had been in that kitchen not even 30 seconds ago, and none of the appliances were lit. Wilbur wouldn’t have been able to change something that small that fast. Deity rarely worked on microscale unless they were there physically. Phil would’ve had to have made it.

But that was neither here nor there. Right now, Techno’s attention was fully focused on the meal in front of him. He may not need to eat, but he hadn’t eaten in months and the food in front of him smelled really good.

Phil chuckled as Techno dug in. Techno ignored him. The meal was just a potato with salt and butter, and some carrots and peas on the side, but it tasted like heaven. If he had been a normal man, he definitely would have burnt his mouth.

In ten minutes flat, Techno had cleared the plate. The bartender whisked the plate away and set a glass of water in front of the man. That disappeared just as quickly.

Phil set that back in the kitchen as well. Techno bet that if he went back there, there wouldn’t be a plate or glass in sight. Instead, he just ran a hand through his hair, and looked to the winged man.

“What can I do to repay my debt?” Techno wanted to get out of this town as fast as possible.

Phil thought for a moment, and answered with, “Go strip down your bed, and wash it in the creek behind the building. There’s a washboard against the outside wall. I’ll clean up the bath.”

The monster hunter tilted his head, “Should we wait until day?”

The winged man had already walked into the kitchen, but Techno heard him shout, “It is day!,” through the walls.

A glance out the windows revealed Phil to be right. The sun was up over the horizon, casting the same long shadows Techno had seen yesterday.

The cursed man blinked. It had definitely been night time only a few minutes ago. Techno stood up, and shook off the lingering confusion. Once he got out of this weird town, things would stabilize. He just needed to finish working for Phil first.

Walking back into his room, Techno began pulling the sheets off the bed. Most of the blankets were still neatly folded and tucked away under the bed frame, so he only had to clean the stuff that directly on top that he’d slept on.

True to Phil’s word, a washboard and a bar of soap were sitting on top of a barrel outside the back of the inn. This town definitely wasn’t real. Someone would have stolen the washboard if anyone else lived here.

But he wasn’t here to question the world building of Wilbur's domain. Instead, he stripped off his boots and socks, folded his new cloak, and left them in the grass away from the running water. The crick bed was entirely stones and pepp. The water ran clear and Techno could see the bottom. So he got to work scrubbing the mud and sweat out of the bedsheet.

That’s where Phil found him, ten minutes later. Saying nothing, the winged man took off his shoes and socks and joined Techno in the water. The stream was about ten feet across, and sluggishly winding through the forest side, so Phil could sit on the far bank and dip his feet in the water without disturbing the other man’s work.

A comfortable silence sat over the two as the monster hunter noticed another odd thing about the forest. There were no birds singing or insects chirping. The only noises came from the river babbling and Techno rubbing the filth out of the fabric. Just one more thing to add to the inaccuracies of this domain.

After a few more minutes of scrubbing, Techno gathered up the material in his arms and waded to the center of the brook to rinse it out. Once all the loose dirt was washed away, he bundled the material up and looked towards Phil.

“Where do you want me to put this?”

The winged man pushed himself to his feet, and took the sheet from the monster hunter’s grip. “I’ll hang it on the line.” He turned and walked out of the river, towards a clothesline hung between the side of the inn and a nearby tree that definitely had been there before Phil had turned around.

That was a bit much, even for Techno’s suspension of disbelief. He’d have to confront the winged man about it later. Right now he turned back to cleaning the other sheet. The fact that he was hanging out with an all powerful deity was future Techno’s problem. Right now, he had to get out of debt of the all powerful deity in question.

Techno’s attention was split between washing the material in his hand, and watching Phil wrestle the fabric up and over the clothes line. He was doing it fairly well, but the cursed man was more enraptured with how Phil’s wings moved along with him.

The deity’s attention was solely focused on manipulating the sheet, and Techno was fascinated as the man out precariously leaned one way, only for his opposite wing to extend and counterbalance him. Originally the wings looked almost pure black, but they seemed to reflect a deep purple color in the daylight.

Phil finished securing the fabric and turned to face Techno. The monster hunter averted his gaze, turning back to the washboard in his hand. In a few more minutes, the other sheet was cleaned, rinsed, and handed off to Phil again.

Techno waded out of the river, and futilely tried to shake the water out of his shirt sleeves. The front of his shirt and pants were soaked, along with the ends of his hair. Ringing as much water out of his hair, he gathered up his shoes and cloak. He’d leave them off until the rest of his clothes dried out.

Leaving Phil to continue wrestling the damp cloth, Techno wandered back inside the building. He sat back down at the bar and continued running his hands through his long hair, trying to get as many tangles out as possible. The monster hunter barely noticed when Phil entered the inn.

Most of his focus stayed on playing with his own hair, but a small portion did stay locked on the winged man, as he walked into the kitchen and out of Techno’s sight.

A couple minutes later, he re-emerged with two bowls in hand. One was set in front of the Techno, and the other he sat down with beside Techno. Phil immediately dug in.

The cursed man took a moment to look at the stew, before doing the same. Rabbit with some root vegetables and a few spices that Techno couldn’t name. Phil certainly hadn’t cooked it by hand, but it was still very good. Before he knew it, his bowl was empty and he was tipping it up to drink the last of the precious liquid.

A small chuckle from Phil grabbed his attention. Techno wiped at his mouth, and turned to look at the bartender.

Phil lifted his bowl to his mouth and mimicked Techno. He was a little over enthusiastic in his attempt, because some poured over the edge and down his front. A laugh escaped from the monster hunter. Undeterred, the winged man finished off the bowl.

The bartender wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and gathered both of their bowls. He stuck his head into the kitchen and deposited them somewhere behind the door. When he turned around, the stains had already disappeared from his shirt.

Phil brushed his hands together, as if he had just finished an arduous task. “You can probably go to bed if you want, all the chores are done for today.”

Techno tilted his head to the side and gave him an odd look. “All we did today was laundry.”

Phil shrugged. His winged flexed and moved along with the motion. “It’s dark outside already. I’m not going to make you work at night.” He gestured towards one of the windows on the side of the room.

Techno’s vision followed his motion. True to Phil’s word, night time had already fallen outside. The monster hunter turned back around to the sound of something shuffling.

The noise was Phil stretching and his wings moving in tandem with his arms. The extra limbs didn’t extend outward and knock over the displayed alcohol bottles. Instead they reached upwards and the primary feathers almost tapped the rafters in the ceiling. After a moment, the wings folded back up neatly behind Phil’s back.

He rubbed at his eyes and said with a yawn, “I’m gonna to head to bed. You should probably do the same.” With that, the bartender turned his back on Techno and walked down the hall that led to the bedrooms.

A door opened and closed out of Techno’s sight. After a moment, the cursed man re-gathered his clothes and ventured down the hall. Turning the knob to the room he’d slept in last night, pushed the door open. The bed was perfectly made with new sheets, even though Phil had been back in the room. There was a new chain lock on the door that the cursed man made use of.

If Phil was a god, a simple piece of metal wouldn’t stop him, but it was still a nice thought on his part. The winged man had been nothing but hospitable, and Techno was going to take full advantage of that. Setting his cloak and shoes on a bedside table, Techno pulled a blanket out from under the bed frame.

Oh, and the clothes he was currently wearing were entirely dry, when they’d been wet only minutes before. Weirder things had happened today.

He smoothed the blanket over the bedspread and crawled underneath. He’d spend a few more days in town, and then continue to wherever Wilbur wanted him to go. Either way, it would keep him from destroying more of the real world. Trouble always followed him, so it was nice to not have to worry about the destruction he always left in his wake.

#technoblade #philza #my writing #when the sun comes up au #poggers #this doc is over 11k now making it the longest thing ive ever written

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moonlightdreamzz · 5 years ago

Text

Serenity — Mark Lee

Request: “Hi love! 💋 can you do a scenario with Mark Lee where he sees you being too in your head, stressing about life, being low-key frantic, freaking out about basically nothing, pulling at your hair, over organizing, etc. and he tries to calm you down and get you to relax in however way you see fit??? That was a whole lot... sorry lol”

A sight always too painful to see—you in distress. Mark can’t stand to watch you pulling at your scalp, taking deep breaths in attempt to calm your staggered breathing. Watching you run around the house, scrambling to clean every spec of dirt, delete every residue; he always was quick to step in and tell you to stop.

You getting like this wasn’t a common sight. Truthfully, you never got angry when you were supposed to. In those moments, you would suppress your feelings, always wanting to stay the ray of sunshine you had been labeled as. Mark is watching the way your curves are making their presence known in your velvet pajama shorts, and crop top that will show what’s his if you reach up the shelf just a little bit more, and his fingers are rubbing up and down his legs. He’s thinking about all the times where he would get on you about being so nice to the wrong people.

“Slow down.” He finally speaks, but still he doesn’t move.

Not to his surprise, you ignore his request. Quite frankly, you probably can’t even hear him. Once you get in this zone, you’re stuck until someone yanks you out and Mark understands this—he understands you, so he’s up and he’s walking to the bookshelf where he finds his home behind you. His arms snake themselves around your frame, and he makes sure to press his soft cheek to yours.

You’re trying to move, but he can feel you giving up slowly.

“Just let me finish re-arranging these, please.”

Your voice is slightly cracked as you whisper your request, and naturally, Mark presses a kiss to your ear. It’s poetic, similar to when he has a pen and pad in his reach, and he doesn’t remove it. He keeps his lips there, even as you try to wiggle out.

“This isn’t what you need.” He says. “You need me.”

“Why don’t you help me with this?”

“Because this isn’t how you cope with your problems. I promise you this is only making you more stressed.”

He waits in position, expecting you to at least turn around and look at him with your beautiful eyes that could bring a thousand memories to his foggy mind, but you don’t. You lean over the shelf, placing your forearm down for your forehead to land on. You’re fighting yourself. One half of you so badly wants to tell him to please just give you an hour alone to rummage through all the unpacked boxes from your home, or unnecessarily clean the bathroom, but then the other half—the half that Mark is trying to get to hear him wants to relax. It knows it needs to have a seat and talk to your boyfriend who’s only passion in his personal life is to make your everyday serene.

You take another deep breath before dropping everything to the ground.

“Mhm.” He cheers and rubs your belly at the same time, although his voice is still very quiet.

“You’re lucky you’re you.”

And he is. He knows the power he holds over your entire being, and he can’t say he doesn’t enjoy it. The way you look at him, crave him—it makes him feel like the most important man in the world, and he has a duty. He’ll never take advantage of it though. I mean, how could he when he feels the same way about you? You have him on lock, and the key was thrown away a long time ago.

“Your hair looks nice.” He compliments as the two of you plop down on the couch. It was a wig he had seen you purchase not too long ago over a very lengthy FaceTime call. Of course it looked amazing on you. Everything did.

He can’t help but notice the way you lean towards his opposite. He knows you’re not upset with him, but he always gets so somber when you run from him regardless.

“Thanks.” You sigh, and your hands are covering your face. The french tip polish that’s covering your fingers are a perfect match; your hickory colored skin creating the perfect comparison point for him, and anybody else who was an intellectual.

“Your skin looks good too.” With this statement, he rests his hand on your ankle, rubbing up and down.

“I’ve been using that new face wash you gave me for Christmas.”

Anybody else would assume they’re talking to a wall, but Mark doesn’t mind. He presses his lips to your knee, before slapping your butt. “Talk to me.” He prompts. His sweet demeanor is still there, but his tone has become much more firm. You don’t have but so many more seconds to speak before he starts to purposely annoy the truth out of you.

“Honestly babe, it’s so stupid.”

“I know.” He says instantly, and he mentally slaps himself. The shocked expression on your face tells him that you weren’t expecting it either, but it also makes a smile creep onto your features. “Wait wait, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant, I know you sometimes get stressed about small stuff. But it’s nothing wrong with that. It’s not like you walk around pushing people and yelling at them.”

“I know.” You breathe out, “I just have so much studying to do it doesn’t make sense.” You’re finding your voice just as you always do, and he always loves this part. You’re about to rant about everything that’s happened in your week. Well at least, that’s what he was expecting. You tell him a dribble of things that annoyed you, but after that, you stop. You also find your way into his hold, and he doesn’t hesitate to embrace you tightly. “Make me feel better.” You mumble straight into his chest.

“In which way?” His eyebrow raises, and as soon as you laugh, his hand is slapping your behind again with a thud as his bottom lip connects with his teeth.

“I’m not some toy, Mark.” You giggle, but even so, you’re straddling him.

“You’re right.” Your lips connect sweetly, “You’re not some toy, you’re my toy.”

“Is that right?”

“You don’t agree?”

You don’t respond—well, verbally. Your bodies are connecting in something heated before you pull away.

“Let’s make dinner.”

“Okay.” He speaks quickly before moving back to your neck.

Your hands are on his chest pushing him back. “No Mark, I mean right now.” You’re teasing him, but he never minded. He would wait forever for you, and you know that.

“You want your favorite?” He sighs, although the smirk is prominent on his face even through his flushed and hued red features.

“Well, I get that after dinner.” You say as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “But I do want my second favorite.”

“Aka something I can’t make. You want me to call Doyoung don’t you?”

“No. I want me and you to go in that kitchen and do a lot of stupid things.”

Any other day, he would fight it, but he can’t now. Your eyes are too pure as your hands rests on his cheeks, nose nuzzling his own.

“Okay. But don’t get mad when I burn your shit, baby.”

“You won’t!” You assure, before he’s picking you up in the same position, and running you two into the kitchen.

Mark was in fact correct, just as he always was. It was actually worse than be predicted, and you also ended up cutting your finger.

“I told you.” He says, voice echoeing through your large bathroom.

“You did tell me.” You pout like a child.

He’s wrapping up all your wounds better than you would have imagined. You expected everything to fall out of place the minute his hands released the cloth, but he didn’t.

“I have a better, more safe idea.”

“Mark—

“Shh.” He voices, pressing a finger to your plump lips. Of course you kiss it, and that brings an intense smile to your boyfriends cheeks. “Come on.” He encourages with a hand.

Mentally, you’re questioning it all, but you take his hand anyway, letting him lead you back to the living room. He’s rummaging through your many movies, and you’re about to sit on the couch before he pulls out a much bigger object. It’s Frank Oceans first album—made to be played on an original record player.

“You don’t have to do this.” You plead. You know how much Mark hates to dance, especially in a setting like this, but he ignores you just as you did to him earlier.

“I know.” He agrees. He approaches the device smoothly, lifting what you referred to as “the pointy thingy”. He places the cd on the spinner gently, pressing the button to make it move.

Thinkin Bout You is slowly crawling all over the walls, and bringing chills up your spine. Mark was constantly playing this song on the guitar and whether you had the voice of an angel didn’t matter. You both would make attempts to sing in attempt to make your day a little brighter.

You’re so lost in your recollections, you jolt when your boyfriend approaches you—left hand on your waist and the other grabbing your hand to hold. “Don’t try to fight me on this.” He whispers, and it’s in a tone you had never heard before. He was always so gentle with you, but as if it was even possible, his voice is even lightly and fluffier. He was really worried about you this time.

“I won’t.” You agree, putting your chin on his shoulder.

The two of you are swaying side to side, allowing Sir Ocean to keep your steps in check.

“How was your day?” You finally break the silence, but even so, your voice is barely audible.

“It’s always a great day when I’m with you like this.” He mumbles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“No—I mean thank you for—

“Always knowing what to do.” He’s chuckling. Even when you try to take away his credit for knowing your every move, he proves you wrong.

You’re shy, head buried into his shoulder now. “Exactly.”

“You know I’m always going to be here for you, right? I’ll never get tired of this.”

“I hope so.”

“Don’t hope—know. I love you.” Are his last words before he’s haulting your dancing slowly. Now his arms are wrapped around your waist, and his kisses are wetting your neck. It’s loving, and it’s proving he meant what he said as if he was touching you already. Your favorite feeling is up next—him rubbing up and down your back, then moving to your bossum. “Let me show you. Can I show you?” Are his final words before he’s picking you up and lightly placing you on the couch.

His kisses are hungry, and they’re saying I love you all at once. Mark was so, so good at making you feel like the only girl in the world.

#nct #nct 127 #nct mark #mark nct #mark lee #nct imagine #kpop ambw #kpop poc #poc kpop #ambw kpop #kpop black reader #nct fluff #kpop #mark fluff #nct ambw #nct imagines #nct scenario #nct scenarios

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keanuvibe · 5 years ago

Text

Noses in Roses (John Wick x Reader) Pt. 3

A/N: hi! this is a re-upload! Apparently, this part got deleted and I wasn’t aware, so if you’ve already invested in this series, it is sadly not a new part.

Words: 6k

Warnings: mentions of kidnapping, violence, swears, and childbirth

disclaimer: I am not a medical professional/haven’t experienced giving birth, so all that I wrote in that category is of my own thoughts on how that process works

December 25th - Christmas Day

Cold flakes of snow fluttered their way down to the ground, casting a gray shadow throughout the space. Holiday music played in the back as a minor distraction, but it only soured the mood. You currently sat at the kitchen table, eyes staring out of the window to avoid the bleak surroundings. John and Aurelio were behind you at the counter, discussing. Aurelio ended up staying the night to help. John and him haven't slept, though somehow you managed to squeeze in a couple of anxiety ridden hours.

Helen took James. She snuck into the home while the boy was unattended and coaxed him to leave. And the fact the three of you were only ten feet away. Just the thought made your lip quiver again. You've already been crying, and finally a couple of hours ago you managed to calm down. The pregnancy hormones didn't help, and the fact you really couldn't do anything to assist the men was frustrating. As much as you loved this baby, she just gets in the way now.

A large hand gently touching your shoulder caused you to jump, before realizing it was John.

“Sorry,” He murmured. You looked up to greet his standing figure. He looked tired, eyes dark and droopy with sleep. His hair was disheveled, the most you've seen in a while. He still donned his outfit from the night before, but it was wrinkled and askew.

“You're fine,” Your voice was quiet, “What's up?”

“We think she took him to the Continental.” He spoke, eyes greeting your own.

“Okay, and what is that?” You asked, raising a brow.

“I forget you don't know that world.”John shook his head, “It’s a hotel where people, in my line of work, stay when on a job.” He spoke carefully. You felt your anxiety peak a little before nodding.

“And that's where he is?” Your voice cracked, but you cleared your throat afterwards.

“Yes baby, but they can't kill on company grounds. It's the rules. All three of us can go there, you’ll be safe.” The man, without moving you, adjusted your chair to face him better and kneeled in front of your figure.

“I don’t think I should go.” You rushed, shaking your head.

“James will want to see you. You're a motherly figure to him. He’s told me he likes to cuddle you more.” Your boyfriend gave you a small smile, trying to sway your decision.

“He only likes me more because I currently have a huge rack for him to lay his head on.” You deadpanned. Aurelios muffled laughter echoed from the kitchen area, and John shook his head trying not to chuckle himself. James did like to rest his head on top of your chest, it's just much more squishy and comfortable. You didn't blame the boy for taking advantage of your built in pillows; his father does the same thing.

“He needs you,” John spoke, his hand resting on your thigh. You sighed, giving in to the gripe.

“Okay, I’ll go. But- I can't be on my feet for long, And once we get back our son; you're taking me to McDonalds.” You huffed. John let out a soft chuckle, standing up and grasping your hand. The man helped you stand as well, steadying your figure as you did so.

“We can take my truck.” Aurelio commented, rustling his keys. John nodded towards the man, as if thanking him, before grabbing your coat and helping you put it on.

---

“So, what is she like?” You spoke aloud, not necessarily asking someone specifically. You were stuck in traffic, typical of New York. Aurelio and John sat up front while you sat in the back. The radio was quietly playing a classic rock song, filling the silence between the question and answer.

“She was nice. She took care of us. Patched us up many times and cooked for us after jobs. But after the… accident... she changed.” Aurelio was the first to answer. You glanced at your boyfriend who kept his glare focused outside. His face, from what you could see, didn't hold any emotion.

“May I ask what the accident was?” You then asked, turning your attention back toward the driver. His eyes quickly looked towards his friend before back at the road. You shifted your sight between the two men, wondering what Aurelio had just silently spoken to your boyfriend. John let out a quiet sigh, knowing it was his turn to speak.

“She got injured. Nearly killed. Shot in the spine, abdomen, and shoulder. When we got her to the hospital, they didn't think she'd live. She fell into a coma for five weeks before waking up.” He paused, “She got better; but she was different. She was meaner, more malicious with her contracts; using the most painful torture in her method. Dragging out the kill for the sake of pure enjoyment. She wasn't the same Helen.” Music filled the silence as you let John's story soak in. The air felt heavy and thick in the lull of noise.

You leaned forward, gently placing your hand onto John's shoulder and giving it a soft squeeze. You didn't know the man's entire history, mostly from not wanting to intrude, but from what you've gathered; it's been rough. He deserves all the love he receives.

John gently rested his cheek against your hand, and you smiled softly at the feeling, using your thumb to rub his skin.

Aurelio parked on the side of the street, prompting the three of you to exit the vehicle. John gently placed his hand on the small of your back, guiding your waddling figure towards a large building. A few people shifted in and out of the entrance dressed in black, fancy articles of clothing. It was tall, and the architecture was unique compared to the surrounding buildings.

Aurelio held open the door and John led the way in, you close behind. The first thing you noticed was the immaculate lobby. A little more than a handful of people were scattered throughout the space. At the sound of the door opening, their eyes studied the three of you making your way to the front desk. You couldn't help but notice their jarring stares pointed towards John, as though they were intimidated.

Your boyfriend kept his eyes pointed towards the man behind the counter; who held a tight grin.

“Mr. Wick.” The man greeted, also nodding towards Aurelio. His eyes merely glanced at your figure, as you were mostly hiding behind John.

“Charon.” John spoke in return, “What room is she in?” It wasn't a question, it was a demand. You could tell by his ever so monotone voice.

“Three-hundred twenty-three.” His accent was though he spoke in cursive. He handed John the room-key, once again scanning his eyes over you and Aurelio. You rest a hand on your belly, rubbing the top self consciously. John put his hand on the small of your back, nodding towards Charon before leading you away from the desk and in the direction of the elevators.

The three of you remained quiet the entire ride. This was the first elevator you've been in that didn't play music. It was strange to hear only the creak of the wires and squeak of the gears. Your anxiety seemed to raise the same as you did. Every floor you gained, you felt your chest tighten more. You took a silent deep breath, feeling the elevator come to a halt and watch as the doors peeled open. Aurelio stepped out first, John following close behind. You came last, waddling slowly behind the men, letting them stagger ahead first.

Aurelio quickly approached the door, grabbing the key from John and unlocking the door. You watched as your boyfriend grabbed a pistol from the back of pants, tucked in between his undershirt and jeans, and held it ready. Aurelio nodded at the man before he pushed the door open. John ran in first, his gun raised. The mechanic gestured for you to follow, before going in himself.

The first thing you saw was James sitting by himself at a small table. Crayons were scattered across the surface, as well as many colored on pages from a coloring book. The rest of the hotel room seemed clean and organized. There were a few things left out, like clothes and personal items.

“James!” You cried in relief, watching as the boy looked up from his work and smiled; instantly recognizing the three of you. He quickly hopped off the chair, sprinting towards you and John. You knelt down, as fast as you could manage, capturing the boy in an embrace. You could feel as he snuggled his head into your neck, wrapping his arms tightly around your shoulders.

“Hi baby,” You cooed, rubbing his back. Tears threatened to spill over your cheeks, feeling as the boy began to sniffle himself. You gently shushed the cries of his that began to make themselves known, rocking his figure as best you could.

“I missed you,” He hiccuped, muffled in your neck.

“Oh we missed you too. So much, baby, so much.” You let a few voice cracks escape, still holding James close.

John and Aurelio shuffled around the room, looking for the woman. However, John’s yell of frustration gave you the suspicion she wasn't here. You could hear the two men speaking in the bathroom, but it was muffled. It sounded heated, however.

“John?” You called out, standing up. James kept his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, head resting against your body. Both Aurelio and John emerged, anger sketched across their faces.

“Can we go?” You asked, gesturing to the boy attached to your body. Your boyfriends eyes softened at the sight of his son clung tightly to you and nodded, giving one last look around the hotel room.

The weight of James’ figure squished your own, but you didn't let the discomfort bother you too much. You were just glad to have him back in your arms; on Christmas. John had lit the fireplace, leaving you and James to snuggle while he sat next to your figures.

Helen got away. Well, they don't know where she went, but she got away nonetheless. You could see the visible frustration radiating from your boyfriend's body. Him not confronting her now means she's only going to come back later. What if she comes when you're alone? or worse; alone with the baby. It's John’s responsibility to protect James, and he failed. Now, he has to protect you and a baby as well. It's obvious he has a lot on his mind currently.

After all of you returned to Johns home safely, Aurelio left. He decided to give you some family time to recover from the events. He also promised he'd get a jumpstart on finding her whereabouts, almost commanding John to take some time off for the two of you; Just until they had a solid lead. While in the bathroom together, back at the hotel, they discussed what John feared the most; killing Helen.

Aurelio made the point that her illness, since the accident, is only presenting to get worse. She's showing no signs of healing. Her mind is so twisted and sick, he only wanted to get her help. It hurts John so deeply to have it come to this. He didn't want to kill the mother of his son.

“I think he’s asleep,” You hummed quietly, gaterthing John's attention. His eyes smiled upon seeing his son sleeping soundly, head resting on your chest.

“Do you want me to carry him to bed?” John whispered, scooting closer to your figures and getting ready to scoop up the boy. You sat up so he had a better angle and watched as your boyfriend scooped his son effortlessly. You stood up afterwards, following him to James’ room. Watching from the door, you witnessed as John gently laid the boy down, tucking the blankets over his little body. The man kissed the top of his son's head, prompting a smile to cover your cheeks.

John stood back up and made his way towards the door, first leaning down and turning on James’ Spider-Man themed night light. You stepped aside, allowing space for the man as he exited the room, resting your hand on top of your belly. John emerged, eyes softening at the sight of you.

“Hi,” He spoke barely above a whisper. You smiled in response, rubbing the side of your tummy the baby was kicking. He placed a hand on your lower back, kissing the top of your head before guiding you towards his bedroom.

“What a day we've had.” You murmured, hands resting on your bump as you waddled through the door and towards your side of the bed.

“Let’s just be glad it's over. For now. And James is safe. I’m going to have a few friends I know install a better security system as soon as I can.” He paused, looking over in your direction momentarily, “We need to focus on us now, on you and our new baby.” John finished, slipping out of his day clothes, having already set out his pajamas.

You took the moment to admire your boyfriend. His strong arms, in particular his biceps, always gave you a tingle. His still toned torso with a bit of dad chub caused you to bite your lip, and the dark trail of hair that led to his crotch made the tingle sensation intensify.

“Any day now and she could arrive.” You hummed, blinking away the thirsty thoughts. “It’s kind of frightening.”

“You shouldn't be scared.” John quickly chimed, walking to your side and easing you to sit. He began undressing for you, helping you get changed to your comfortable pajamas.

“It gives me anxiety; the thought of the pain and being a mother so soon. My chest gets all-” You paused, squeezing your fist closed and holding it up “-tight.”

“I can’t protect you from the pain.” Your boyfriend began, “But you can hurt me as much as you need to, to get through it. Break my hand and whatnot.” He humored towards the end. You chuckled, shaking your head.

“I appreciate it, baby. I’ll definitely need you. Because, honestly,” You paused, feeling a little somber emotion pass through, “I don’t think I could do this alone.” John didn't answer immediately, instead; he kissed the top of your head, sitting on the bed next to your and pulling you into a hug.

“I love you, (Y/N).” John's deep voice caused chills to over your body and a smile to creep on your face. This was the first time John has told you.

“I love you too, John.” You answered, raising your hand and pulling the man in for a kiss by gently leading his chin. His beard scratched your cheeks, but you loved the sensation.

January 3rd - 8:17am

Dull gray snowflakes fell outside as the dawn had lightened the sky just enough to reveal snowfall from the night before. A quiet sigh fell past your lips as you blew onto the mug of decaf coffee in your grasp. Taking a sip, the hot beverage seared down your throat and warmed up your chilly figure. Your free hand gently rubbed your large belly, feeling the baby kicking staggardly but repeatedly.

It’d been over a week since James’ kidnapping. Helen hadn't made herself known again, and a source at the hotel had told John that she left. Aurelio has no whereabouts on the woman either. She seems to have left town. Or at least, gone into hiding. John expressed that she may come back. However, just as promised, he had the new security system installed a few days ago.

James hasn't left yours or John's sight since, either. When he isn't asleep, he's always with one of you. It was fun though, you played games and made crafts. Mostly things that didn't require you to stand up. He helped you add final touches to the nursery as well; picking out toys and stuffed animals online.

He didn't seem to be too affected by the kidnapping, either. Which was good. There have been a few nights when he's come in and snuggled between you, your pregnancy pillow, and John. But, the next morning he's back to his cheery self.

A slight cramp in your lower belly caught your attention and you groaned from the pain, adjusting your position at the kitchen table. Pelvic pains, or lower abdomen pain in general, aren't a new thing; being the fact that you're due in a little under a week. This one felt different though, more along the lines of a period cramp. The doctor warned that contractions will start to get more painful as your body prepares for birth; It’s a sign of labor. She also told you not to come until there are at least seven minutes between the cramps. Something about new moms trying to be admitted when they're only one centimeter dilated.

“Morning,” A sleep James’ voice distracted your thoughts and you turned your head to see the boy entering the kitchen, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“Good morning, Honey.” You smiled. He tiredly stomped over to your sitting figure and sat in the chair next to your own.

“Can I get you some juice?” You asked softly, gently combing some hair from his eyes.

“Do we have any apple juice?” He mumbled, yawning at the end. You nodded, standing up with a huff and waddling towards the fridge.

“You should be sitting.” John's deep voice echoed throughout the space and you turned to see your boyfriend leaning against the doorframe with a small smile. To keep in shape, John had started going on early morning jogs. You argued he didn't need to, enjoying the minor holiday chub that barely changed his appearance. But he still went this morning, leaving around six. He must've just gotten home.

“Sitting hurts too. Everything hurts. I’m ready for this baby to get out.” You hummed at the end, opening the appliance in front of you and grabbing the apple juice. You heard as John grabbed James’ cup and turned to see him holding it out for you.

“How do you feel today?” He asked softly as you grabbed the cup.

“I slept a total of four hours last night, and I'm pretty sure I experienced my first real contraction.” You replied, pouring the drink before waddling back to the table and giving the cup to James.

“Contractions already?” Your boyfriend commented, grabbing a peach from the fruit bowl and began slicing the skin off.

“Baby, I've been having contractions for a couple weeks now. This one was like… actual labor, I think.” You spoke, sitting back down at the table and sipping your coffee.

“You're not freaking out?” John humored, joining you and James at the table. He lovingly placed a hand on the side of your belly, giving it a slight rub with his thumb before pulling away.

“Nope, the doctor advised against that,” You began, “Darling, you read the book with me. You should know, when they get in between that five to seven minute range, it’s go time.” You smiled softly at him, feeling another contraction beginning to rear its ugly head.

“What’s a contraction?” James’ tiny voice echoed. He’d been so quiet drinking his juice, you'd nearly forgotten he was there.

“Oh, it’s when a baby inside a mommy tells her ‘Hey! I’m ready to come out!’.” You gently explained. Your time as an elementary school teacher has given you experience explaining complicated subjects to children. John even seemed impressed at your silly explanation. He grabbed your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, intertwining your fingers.

“Oh. Is your baby wanting to come out?” He asked innocently. You nodded with a smile, rubbing your belly. The cramp was starting to gain momentum, becoming more painful by the second before releasing and calming down to normal. You hadn't noticed that you squeezed John’s hand; but you released with an apologetic smile. He dismissed it quietly, giving you a squeeze of reassurance in return.

“Yes, she is.” You smiled, “Are you excited to meet her?” You then questioned.

“I get to meet her?” He questioned, perking up. Both you and John nodded, causing the boy to squeal from excitement.

“Oh, whoa.” You quickly exhaled, leaning onto the wall as a strong contraction hit. It’s only been three hours since they actually began, but the pain has grown with each passing one. Not to forget, your water broke only five minutes ago. You hadn't told John yet; actually, you were on your way to find him when the contraction started.

“Are you okay?” James’ quiet voice innocently asked, walking up behind you. You looked down at the sweet boy, nodding in pain.

“Yeah baby, I’m okay.” You managed to murmur. The boy gently pat your arm, trying to give comfort, even though he didn't really understand what you were going through.

“Where's dad?” You questioned, letting out a breath you'd been holding as the contraction passed. You gently ran your fingers through his hair, clearing his vision.

“He’s downstairs.” He smiled, fiddling with a toy helicopter he had in his grasp. You nodded and waddled your way towards the basement stairs. Somehow, you carefully and safely got to the bottom step, turning to see your boyfriend sat at the little book binding desk.

“John?” You questioned, causing the man to turn around.

“How did you get down the stairs?” He questioned genuinely, standing up and quickly stepping over to you. The man gently placed his hand onto your back, guiding you towards the chair he’d been sitting in and sat you into it.

“Slowly.” You commented with a sigh, placing a hand over your belly.

“Did you change?” He questioned, eyes scanning you over.

“Oh, yeah,” You shrugged, “My water broke.” John's silence caused you to glance at him. You could see he was holding back a comment, as you asked him to earlier. The reason he came to the basement in the first place was because you kept refusing his attempts to take you to the hospital, and he got frustrated.

“What?” You pursued, leaning forward.

“I just think we should go take a look-” John began, but you cut him off.

“Baby, I’m fine- OH.” Another painful contraction stung your abdomen and lower back, cutting off whatever else you were about to say. John's hands quickly found themselves on your body; one rubbing your back, the other giving your hand something to squeeze. Your boyfriend helped you breathe through the contraction, whispering words of endearment as he did so. The pain ended soon enough, allowing you to exhale in relief.

“How many minutes was that?” He questioned, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear.

“That was eight.” You answered, looking at an old clock John had hung. Nerves fluttered across your stomach, however a smile grew across your boyfriends face.

“We're so close, please, Let’s go have a baby.” John spoke softly, kneeling in front of your figure and gently placing his hand on your bump.

“John- I’m… I’m scared.” You whispered after a few moments of silence. The man had been preoccupied loving on your bump before you interrupted. Your boyfriends dark eyes met your own, softening at the sight of your fearful expression. He kept eye contact as he grasped your hand into his own and kissed the top of it.

“(Y/N), I will be right by your side the entire time. It’s going to suck, and be painful. But, darling,” John paused, his fingers gently brushing your cheek, “We’re going to have a little girl.”

Soft tears prickled your eyes as the hormones took over and you nodded, sniffling in the process. John’s tenderness and promise of protection only eased your fears. It was time to go have a baby.

The snow falling outside cast gray hues into the room; contrasting with the fluorescent lighting. It was quiet; not even the TV was on. The only noises that echoed were the sounds of the busy city hospital outside, and the beeps of the machines monitoring your vitals.

A wave of pain caused you to groan as you leaned over an exercise ball the hospital provided you for comfort. John's gentle words of encouragement only angered your pained self, but you held it down; knowing he was only trying to help and you're only agitated by being in incredible pain.

It’s been almost four hours since you arrived at the hospital. Your progression is going well; you’re seven centimeters dilated now. The nurse that's been monitoring you said she's never seen a first time mother dilate so quickly. John hasn't left your side; save to get you water.

It kind of blew your mind- when you actually had a moment of clarity between contractions- looking back on yours and John's story. Your boyfriend was standing near the window, gazing out at the snow storm when it all hit you. You are in love with John Wick. The man who literally kills people as his career, but is the most loving and gentle soul to the people and creatures he cares about. John stepped up for you, took care of you and your baby unprompted, helped you come to terms with your husband's death and gave you a new life to start. Becoming a mother figure to James was a sweeter part of the situation. Even as only his teacher, pre John; you had a soft spot for him.

As for James’ whereabouts; John texted Aurelio to watch the boy for the time being; and bring him after the baby has been born. The two of you agreed you didn't want him to be stuck at the hospital, when Aurelio could entertain him.

“When do I get the epidural?” You moaned, trying to position yourself on the ball so the pain would ease.

“Well, I think now would be okay. You seem to be chugging along with no hiccups.” The nurse answered, walking into the room just as you complained.

“Thank god,” You exhaled as the contraction passed. John helped you stand and kept you balanced as you waddled to the bed, then climbed on.

“I need to go gather the supplies, I’ll be right back, Honey.” The nurse spoke gently, prompting you to nod at her in response. The sound of the hospital room door closing echoed around the quiet space and you let out a sigh, leaning back on the bed.

“You look so beautiful.” John murmured, standing beside you. His hand gently raised and pushed away some sweat-soaked locks that covered your eyes.

“I feel awful.” You glared at the man. He discarded away your negativity, leaning forward and kissing your sweaty forehead. Another contraction began to pain you once again, prompting you to squeeze your eyes shut from the unpleasant sensation. John felt as you held his hand tightly, but you barely hurt him. His hands have been through worse over the years.

The nurse returned shortly after your contraction ended. She pushed in a small tray carrying the needed instruments, quickly pulling on gloves and setting up the shot. John helped you position so you sat up with your feet hanging off the side of the bed; making sure the hospital gown still covered your front.

“You're going to feel a painful pinch, hardly compared to what you've been feeling.” The nurse spoke, rolling the tray behind you. The sounds of her fussing with the needle and instrument gave you a mild anxiety. John stood by your side, holding your hand as you gripped his tightly.

“First time?” She asked after a few moments, rubbing a small alcohol soaked napkin onto the spot she was going to pierce.

“Yeah,” You murmured, squirming at the cold feeling and looking up towards John. His eyes softened, moving from glaring at the large needle to meeting your gaze.

“I remember my first baby.” The nurse spoke, making small talk as a distraction, “He was ten pounds with a big head.” You felt as the needle pinched your skin, causing you to whimper and grab your boyfriend's hand tighter. John kissed the top of your head just as the nurse removed the instrument, tossing it into the designated trash bin.

“That sounds like a nightmare.” You breathed, relaxing slightly and finally getting a good look at the nurse. She was older, donned white hair that'd been styled into a long braid over her shoulder. She also wore pink scrubs, with little flowers patterning the fabric.

“Now he’s six foot three and plays college football. The first baby is always so special, do you know the gender?” She smiled, cleaning up the remaining items. Her eyes looked up, watching as John closed your hospital gown. She noted the maturity across your boyfriend's face, and how much younger you seemed. It caused her to furrow her brow a bit, questioning how you ended up together.

“It’s a girl.” You rubbed the top of your belly; ignoring the dull throb from the epidural.

“You two must be very excited.” She mused, shucking her gloves off and tossing them into the trash.

“More ready for it to be over, at this point.” You chuckled dryly, laying back into a semi-comfortable position. The older woman gave you a look of pity, but followed with a few encouraging words before grabbing the tray she came with and leaving the room.

The epidural acted quickly, numbing you from your pelvis down. John had to carry you back to the bed after you'd taken a short lap around the hospital, due to the shot kicking in. The nurse recommended that you take a walk to help things progress along as the epidural kicks in, but you didn't expect to not be able to use your legs halfway through. Your boyfriend lovingly carried you the remainder of the lap, extremely gentle with his movements.

Three short knocks distracted you from a minor contraction as a different nurse from earlier walked back in. She smiled warmly at you and John, greeting the two of you.

“How’re you miss (Y/L/N)?” She nodded, quickly washing her hands and pulling on gloves.

“Tired,” You exhaled, looking towards the woman. She was younger than the last nurse; probably closer to your age, thirty-two.

“Oh, honey, you're not even to the thick of it.” She mused, approaching your figure. “Dad, if I could have you place mom’s legs in the stirrups. I’m going to check how dilated you are, sweetie.” Her arms waved at John, encouraging him. The man was quick to do so, returning to your side by the top of the bed.

Thankfully, you couldn't feel anything as she got to work; the epidural kicking in nicely. John gently pushed some sweat soaked strands from your face, eyes scanning over your face lovingly.

He secretly loved that the nurse called him ‘Dad’ and you ‘Mom’. It felt right; as though everything had fallen into place perfectly. After Helen left him and Jame, he didn't expect to find someone again. Someone who made him feel again. He was glad that nanny didn't show up to school to pick up James that afternoon; He was glad that he met you, the wonderful Miss (Y/L/N). Your baby was an added bonus. He had a little family now- a whole family.

“Alright Missy, you are a full ten!” The nurse smiled, standing up and shucking off the gloves. “You are ready to go!” Your heart began to race and you sat up as best you could manage in the bed, with your legs being numb and in stirrups. ready to go? Are you actually ready to give birth? Your eyes met John's full of fear. His face softened, noting the horror sketched across your own. His hand gently ran across your cheek as he leaned down, kissing your forehead.

“Let’s go have a baby.” John's voice calmed you instantly, knowing this man was by your side for good.

The nurse called other staffers to begin the process. Firstly, they moved you to the delivery room; pulling on face and hair masks. You requested that John stayed in with you, forcing him to change into the big green smock and a face mask with his hair pulled back into a small bun. It was kind of cute.

The staff got into their positions quickly. Two nurses stood by your legs that were spread in stirrups, the doctor was in between them, ready to command you to push. A few others stood in the background, ready to take the baby for the initial testing and cleaning once born.

“Okay, (Y/N), I want you to push on three, two, one!” The doctor's voice was loud, startling you into pushing. Pain, like no other, seared through the spots the epidural hadn't hit. All your mind could focus on now was getting this baby out, and getting her out as soon as possible. John stood by your side, words of encouragement hammering your ears as you death gripped his hand and the bed railing.

It was all overwhelming; the staff yelling at you to push, John’s constant string of positivity, the fact there's a baby coming out of your body. Your instincts told you to ignore the sounds and try to remain focused on your baby. Following your contractions, you pushed, and pushed, and pushed.

What felt like twenty minutes had passed, but in reality it was only a short time. The feeling of pressure being released and the warm weight of the baby pressed against your nearly bare chest immediately brought you to tears. She was here, your baby was here.

“Dad, want to cut the cord?” The nurse from earlier asked, handing John the scissors. He looked at you for a brief second; silently asking permission. You nodded, and the man quickly got to work. Your daughter's first cries erupted across the room, however a nurse grabbed her from your chest gently, taking her over to perform the quick testing they have to do.

“I’m so proud of you,” John’s voice broke as he spoke and your hazy eyes glazed over his face. Little glimmers of tears were evident in his dark eyes, just shy of spilling. “I love you, (Y/N).”

“Hmm, how does Mary sound?” You questioned, your pointer finger gently playing with the bottom lip of your baby as she slept in your arms. It’s been three hours since you gave birth. Since then, James, and Aurelio, have been to visit the new baby. James loves his new baby sister- which he called her himself, Neither you or John told him to.

“She looks like a Peggie to me.” John commented, fingers ever so gently playing with a black tuft of hair atop her head. Your ex-husband had dark black hair; you're secretly glad she got that trait.

“That’s such a granny name.” You giggled, looking up to your boyfriend, “You're such an old man.” John faked hurt at the comment but chuckled it off. James stood by his father, eyes widely looking at the new baby. He was excited about her, excited to be a big brother as well.

“I’ve always liked Heather?” You suggested next. John didn't make an immediate comment, instead looking at the chubby cheeks of his new baby. A little smile crossed his cheeks and he nodded.

“Yes, Heather. I like it.” He smiled. You gently offered for him to grab the baby, and he complied. She looked so tiny in his grasp, like a little doll. Your heart swelled with love upon seeing your boyfriend holding and showing off Heather to James. You have a family now.

Despite the awful things that happened over the past year, things worked out in the end. What mattered most was that right now, the three- now four- of you were happy.

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scythian-andromache · 4 years ago

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homeward bound

a The Old Guard fic Relationship: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova Rating: T (referenced canon-typical violence) Summary: Nicolò di Genova came from Genova before Italy even existed, but it's been a long time since Nicky went home. (AKA: the immortals have a complicated relationship with memory and nostalgia, but sometimes home is intangible.)

also on [AO3]

***

Places, they hold memories in them. Make them tangible again, like a smell that transports you back to your childhood classroom, or a song that sends shivers up your spine and makes you feel just as you did when you first heard it in a café twenty years ago. Places are vessels for the past, even as physical landscapes shape the future. They hold the imprints of the things that happened there, for better or worse; places have power.

"Joe, Nicky, I need you to meet this contact." Andy's voice is crisp and collected as she details the next mission, passing Joe a scrap of paper with an address. "They have a dossier we need, and we can't leave an electronic trail. In person only, this time."

Even with Copley covering their asses, erasing any digital footprint he finds, Andy's been extra careful of late, making sure there's no chance that anyone learns who they are again, and honestly, Nicky appreciates it. He doesn't need anyone else experimenting on Joe. It's not the first time they've been captured and it probably won't be the last, but being used as lab rats has left a certain bitter pang of fear in the back of Nicky's brain.

"Nile will go with me," Andy continues, unaware of the little detour his brain took him on. "We'll rendezvous in three days, at the safe house outside of Marseille." She pauses. "You get out clean, you hear me? I'd better see both your ugly mugs in front of me on Thursday."

"Yes, boss," says Joe, and Nicky manages a small smile, because this is one of the little ways Andy says I love you.

"Right, let's move out."

It's only a matter of grabbing their go-bags, really, but Nicky takes a moment to pull Nile aside and give her a quick hug.

"You take care of yourself, cucciola," he whispers. "Look out for Andy, but look out for yourself too, capisci?"

Nile hugs him fiercely, tightly, and then lets go quickly, straightening back into the stiff military stance that seems to be her fallback in situations like these when she's tamping down her emotions. "See you in three days, and not a second later."

He nods, and then they're going their separate ways, Andy and Nile screeching away in Andy's beat up Citroën.

"You want to do the honors, Habibi?" Joe asks, sliding into the driver's seat and passing the little scrap of neatly folded paper that contains their mission to Nicky.

Of course, Joe immediately complicates Nicky's efforts by reaching out to lace their fingers together over the gear shift, distracting him so that he fumbles with the paper. Nicky laughs, his task all the more difficult now with just one hand, and Joe lifts their twined hands to give Nicky's a kiss. Nicky shakes his head fondly at Joe's antics—he starts every road trip this way—and finally looks down to read who they're headed to meet.

The corners of Nicky's vision blur a little, and he feels himself go lightheaded. He squeezes Joe's hand tightly—too tightly—as he stares uncomprehendingly at what's inked there. Even though there is a name and the street number of a residence off of a piazza, all he can see is the last line, written in Copley's tight script: Genoa, Italy.

"Yusuf," he breathes. "Yusuf, look."

Genova, once upon a time, was home. Long before "Italy" existed, long before he became an immortal, the bustling streets of the merchant city were as familiar to Nicky as the freckle on his wrist or the soft way his mother smiled at her children when they did something clever. There was the market, where people shouted over each other about wares and prices, and the fountain where, at age nine, he'd tested his balance walking the lip of it and failed miserably, falling and scraping his knee, and the little twisting alley behind his home where, at thirteen on a dare, he'd chastely kissed Francesca, the baker's daughter, and hated it. He knew to always walk on the left side of the street that passed along his house, because the right side had loose cobblestones that were liable to trip you, and he knew that on Fridays, the shipbuilders took to the taverns, filling them with spirited—if drunken—singing. He fit there, and life was uncomplicated, or at least as uncomplicated as life ever gets.

Nicky hasn't been to Genova in more than nine hundred years.

They're immortals with adequate resources and his name is literally di Genova, so it might seem strange. Such a tangible connection to a location, one that was so close to his heart, and he hasn't gone in centuries, not even when he and Joe lived in Venitzia during the Renaissance, and not when they went to Firenze for the weekend a few years ago.

Because sometimes you can't go back.

He tried, once, in the early years after he first became immortal. He thought it might be a balm, a comfort. Something familiar to ease the profound sense of loss that had opened a cavern in his chest. A touchstone to who he'd been before the world turned upside down.

Instead, it felt like walking through a ghost town. It felt like existing within a refracted re-creation of his memories. Everything so hauntingly familiar, and yet slightly out of place. The city had grown, re-bricked, a new plaza where there should have been a house, and rows of shops and residences that hadn't existed before. The market went on cheerfully in the same spot, but the vendors were new, the wares organized differently. He'd walked past his childhood home to find the street busier, the stucco faded and cracked.

On his walk through the city, he'd sworn he saw his sister at the market, her face staring back at him, and then the woman had cursed him out for looking at her too long, and he'd realized the pitch of her voice was wrong, the curve of her eyebrow not quite right. Maybe, possibly, the old woman she was with when she left the market—hair greying and hunched figure and deep wrinkles around her dark eyes—had been his sister, or maybe it was just wishful thinking. Maybe she'd already been dead a generation. Maybe Nicky didn't actually remember her face, already so faded in his memory, and was so desperate to remember that he'd opened himself up to the power of suggestion.

It was only after the incident in the market that he realized: time had been grinding away at this once-familiar place, leaving no comfort to be had.

Nicky left the next morning, and never tried to return to Genova again.

It wasn't that he'd avoided it specifically; there'd just never been a reason to go before, and even though they'd visited Joe's hometown once, he'd never pushed to see Nicky's, sensing his reluctance.

After all, Genova isn't the only place Nicky or Joe have a difficult relationship with; perhaps it's the most salient, but they're immortal, and places tend to carry tangible reminders of the lives they've led, and the people they'll never get back.

Memories weigh down other cities too. Constantinople—er, Istanbul now, Nicky supposes—is another one, the streets somehow both foreign and nostalgic after the ten years they lived there. Echoes of friends' laughs ring out in quiet corners of the city, and the fragrant odor of spices—the bite of cumin and the wafting caress of mint—in the grand bazaar smells like hot nights drinking coffee with excitable scholars, passionately discussing philosophy until all hours, when their eyelids got leaden but their hearts were full. And strolling along the picturesque canals in Bruges never fails to turn up pangs of the indescribable loss of Quỳnh, and the memory of a broken Andy, sobbing that she'd lost her. (It's the only time Nicky can remember seeing Andy cry in the thousand years since they'd met.)

It happens with every place they've ever lived to some degree, wholly unavoidable, but Genova holds a strange and intimate attachment—something intrinsic—that these other places do not have.

It's true that sometimes you can never go back, but it's also true that you cannot escape your past entirely, either.

And now they have a mission there.

They pull into Genova in the late afternoon, as the golden hour rays are illuminating the city. (There's really nothing quite like the Italian sun, especially as it sets the port and the seaside on fire.) It's more colorful than he remembers, except for the water: that's as vibrant as it's always been.

They're making contact with their source in the morning, which means that tonight is mostly about laying low and not getting killed, two things that they should frankly be better at than they are.

Joe finds them an unremarkable pensione on a quiet side street, and books them a room for the night, paid in cash and using aliases. Untraceable.

Their route to finding a place to eat takes them past a view of the ocean and Nicky has to pause. Everything else has changed, but the ocean hasn't, not really. It's from a slightly different angle, but the same view he grew up with, familiar in a reflexive way, like muscle memory, something he'd forgotten he knew.

Over dinner, they talk about the mission, and speculate about how Nile and Andy are doing ("I bet you Andy's already done something stupid and Nile's had to take a bullet for her," Joe says, and Nicky replies, "Do you think I'm stupid? I know Andy too well; there's no way I'm taking that bet.") and revisit their long-standing debate about whether exiling Booker when his betrayal was borne of loneliness and isolation is really the right move.

The beautiful thing about being with someone so very long is that they know you, inside and out. Joe doesn't need to ask about how Nicky's dealing with being back in Genova, because he can see it written out across his face, detailed in the tension in his shoulders. (They'd talked a little bit about it in the car, and will probably talk about it some more later, but for now Joe won't press, and Nicky loves him all the more for it.)

On the way back to the pensione they take a different route, and stumble across a little plaza that Nicky recognizes. He squeezes Joe's hand and they continue, but if he looks hard enough, he fancies he can see the shade of his younger self scampering across the cobblestones.

How foolish, really.

In the deepest depths of the night, Nicky, restless, slips out of bed, sneaks out of the pensione.

The city has been painted over, rebuilt a dozen different times and pieced together like a patchwork quilt, but underneath it all are the bones of the city Nicky once knew. His feet carry him through the warren of streets, and he finds himself, suddenly, standing in front of his childhood home.

He stares at the building where he was born. Where he begrudgingly learned his first shaky letters. Where he sliced open his palm, trying to whittle a bit of wood like his older brother. Where he and his sister Catalina, closest in age of all of them, swapped whispered secrets and fantastical stories of their own creation. Where he dreamed of changing the world with the misguided vision of an insulated youth. Where he ate, slept, and laughed for the first fourteen years of his very long life.

It's a drop in the bucket, now, and looking at it this time doesn't produce the same emotions as it did so long ago. Instead, he just feels an emptiness, a sense of detachment. It is someone else's home now. It has not been his in any meaningful way for a long time, a transfer of ownership occurring with every brick that was replaced, every layer of paint splattered on. A blessing and a curse in equal measure, he supposes, to feel this way.

He's been there a few minutes—reality almost lost to him as he tries to remember exactly how his mother used to quirk her eyebrows at them and finds he can't—when he suddenly realizes that he's not alone, a thousand years of dangerous situations training him to notice and believe the prickling feeling on the back of his neck.

But when he turns, he just sees Joe, hands in his pockets, watching him intently. His face is thrown half in relief by a nearby streetlamp, and he blinks for a moment, marveling at how beautiful his Yusuf is, how entirely dear.

Joe doesn't ask what Nicky is doing here, or why he's not getting the sleep they need before the drop tomorrow. He simply joins him, and they stand there in quiet contemplation for a few moments, just being together in front of this unspectacular building.

Finally, "Is this where Nicolotto grew up?"

Nicky finds himself nodding. "It was not much back then, either. Less, even."

Joe studies the place again in the flickering light of the streetlamps.

"It should be a museum," he declares, and Nicky scoffs.

"Every house in Italy could be in a museum if you think having old bones warrants a spot there."

"Ah, but not every house was your house," says Joe.

"The person who came from here was no good," mutters Nicky. For all the shiny, fleeting memories of childhood, he wasn't: he was prejudiced, closed minded, convinced of his own superiority, taught to hate instead of love. It took dying several times—several dozen—to figure that out.

"None of that, ya Habib albi. That person needed to live," says Joe, fiercely, "needed to die, needed to be, so that I could meet you." Nicky ducks his head, but Joe's only just beginning, and he continues emphatically, "His existence is a miracle I praise every day, because every moment in time had to happen exactly as it did so that I would meet you, so that we might exist together. If this is the house where you grew up, I praise the blocks that made it stand, so that you might sleep each night within it; I praise the stones on the ground that absorbed your footfalls; I praise the herbs that grew on the windowsill and sweetened the air of each breath you drew in. This place, flawed though it may be, brought me you."

Yusuf's poeticism is nothing new, but it still sneaks up on him every time. "Elegant bastard," Nicky curses, several tears tracking down his cheeks, and reaches out, cups Joe's face tenderly and pulls him in for a desperate kiss.

A millennia and his lips are still tingling, a millennia and Joe's kiss is still tender, life-affirming, a question and an answer and a beautiful, delicate promise all at once.

Even when they break apart, they remain in each other's space, foreheads pressed together, breath mingling, hands resting on cheeks.

It's not as though they've been apart for any vast stretch of time recently, but Nicky still takes a moment to relish in Joe's presence, ground himself in the warmth of Joe's skin under his fingertips. It's on a deep inhale as he clears his mind that the idea comes to him, and he flicks his eyes open to meet Joe's.

"Yallah ya hayati."

"Ila al-funduq?"

"Not yet," Nicky says. He links his arm through Joe's. "I want to show you something else, first."

Nicky lets his feet guide them, and together they walk the remnants of the neighborhood of Nicky's youth, as he tells Joe about the merchant who lived in that house, and the shop on this street that sometimes gave the neighborhood children sweets when the owner was in a good mood. He allows himself to reminisce, finally stops holding back the wave of wistfulness and sadness and displacement and fondness—complicated and messy—as he narrates these long gone trivial bits of his childhood to Joe. The eastern sky is smudged with a little pink by the time the arrive back at the pensione for a few quick hours of sleep.

It is easier the next morning, a weight off his chest, the itchy eyes that come with a lack of sleep a small price to pay. When they go to collect the dossier, they trod part of a route he thinks that he used to take to go to the butcher's shop for his mother.

"I got into a fight in that alley," he says aloud, as the memory springs to life for the first time in centuries, triggered by the curve of the stone at the corner of the building.

"My Nicolò?" asks Joe dramatically, pretending to be shocked. "In a fight?"

"It wasn't much of one," says Nicky, the ghost of a smile on his face. He can't remember what the fight was about, anymore, or the name of the boy he got in a scuffle with. Dario? Dante? It doesn't come to him. Just the kiss of pain that came with his split lip and bruised cheekbone.

"Of course it wasn't," says Joe. "You had not yet met me."

Nicky snorts, but Joe isn't wrong. To this day, and even counting the many missions Andy has sent them on, some of his most intense fights were against Joe, before they realized they were far better suited as lovers than enemies.

"I have a secret," he says in a low voice, and when Joe turns to look at him, he continues, "I do not even think I won."

Joe's laugh rings out along the cobblestone street.

Genova, once upon a time, was home, but that was a long time ago. Places are vessels for memory and nostalgia, reminders of the people we have known and the people we have been. Places have power, but something you learn with time is that, powerful as they may be, home is not always a place.

As they pull out of the city with the dossier tucked in his bag, Joe at the wheel and hands laced together over the gear shift, Nicky feels something within himself quiet. Genova still means something to him and probably always will, but it is softer now, more approachable, a collection of memories he is reconciling with and not a cavernous hole to be avoided. He is content with filing it away as home, once instead of the dour no longer home he's thought of it as for so long.

After all, it is Yusuf, dear Yusuf, who is home, who has been for nearly a millennia now. His eyes are vessels for memory—their brightest, happiest moments, and also the tragedy and hardships they have faced together—and his soft smile carries its own nostalgia, even as it is his beacon of hope. Home is a patchwork of days and nights and soft whispers traded between them, a constellation of moments traced across his skin, the invisible story of their love etched within their souls.

Nicky lifts up their intertwined fingers and kisses Joe's hand, and when Joe glances over at him, he smiles softly, a thousand beautiful memories refracted in Joe's eyes. Home, indeed.

***

#the old guard #nicolò di genova #yusuf al kaysani #the old guard fanfiction #nicolo di genova #yusuf al-kaysani #lenci writes

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children-ofthe-wind · 3 years ago

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8/1 Update; Hello August

Is it possible to have an identity crisis at such a young age?

Aah, I keep realizing every single day that I have no idea who I really am. Earlier today, out of nowhere, I just had this realization. Or more like, a transmission?

I forgot how exactly it went, but I felt like I wanted to cry. I was listening to "Pied Piper" by BTS and again... music and me, just line up somehow. I got this feeling that I've been fed a lot of lies by the spiritual community. You see, diet is a very big thing to me. Not in regards to weight, but in regards to "keeping your vibration high." And many times over, I've heard to skip and avoid processed foods AT ALL COSTS. Why? Because "It lowers your vibration," "It calcifies your third eye," "It makes your chakras go out of whack," "It affects you on every level." And slowly, slowly, I started believing it. I kept seeing it over and over. And little by little, I kept following that pied piper. I made their truth into my own. I got rid of so much things from my diet, so much so, that I was cooking for myself every single day. I don't even know how long I went without eating out. And when we traveled, man was it a fucking guilt trip. Literally. I felt guilty, bad for eating out and eating street food when we stayed at hotels. I honestly sucked the life out of myself, I sucked the fun out. My little treats that I ate before became rarities. I had to "deserve" to eat those things. I eventually began baking my own treats, but of course it was not the same since I got into Keto and then Paleo diets. All of that came flooding in at once and I started realizing that I adopted these truths from others. They were never my own, but rather, things I just believed from others. It got even worse when I started my Ayurveda class.

Our teacher basically guilt tripped us into giving up all kinds of meat. Saying things like, it rots in your stomach. You take on the karma of the animal. You're eating precious life. It can lead to cancer. I was already on the verge of giving it up because of the spiritual community I was into, and how they spoke about it already in similar ways. But she explained it in a more spiritual way that I felt so bad about eating chicken and fish, which were the only types of meat I ate by that time. I ended up being vegan a few months after, and it fucked up my body because the sources of protein, I can't digest them well. My dosha is Vata, and I have difficult times eating things like beans and tofu. Not to mention the really bad food combining that happens with vegan recipes, it messed up my stomach a lot. All that difficult to digest food and bad combining actually bloated my stomach for days, in fact I had a bloated stomach just about the entire time I went vegan because the food was not being digested properly; so I had to throw that out the window and listen to my body. Funny enough, my stomach can digest eggs easier and faster than it can tofu.

But besides this, it made me want to cry in the car as I went for groceries because I realized how much I loved eating snacks like that. And that's when I remembered something I had learned from an actual priestess; that things are only true if you allow them to be. And the thing was, I kept allowing that food issue to be true for me. That it was lowering my vibration; but that no longer resonates. I remembered back to the time where I first started my spiritual journey, I was eating ice cream literally for breakfast. And during those times, I had some profound experiences like intense and deep meditative states that lasted for an hour. And guess what I was eating during that time? Processed foods. Because I hadn't accepted those pied piper's truths yet, it did not affect me because that was not the reality I was living in. Until I allowed it to be. So today, I decided to drop that. It was never me, whoever "me" is at this point. But... I feel like I am getting closer to her. So I got some non-dairy ice cream and vegan cookies. I get non-dairy because dairy actually does give me acne if it is not organic since they put shit in the dairy. THAT is something that feels more accurate- that food can affect you physically. Like how dairy gives people an upset stomach, but that doesn't mean it lowers their vibration or closes up their third eye. Actually, even when I was eating dairy back then, when I got my chakras healed (since 2018 or 2019 I think), every time I went to get them healed, my third eye was almost ALWAYS open. At that time I was still eating processed food. My memory is still fuzzy from that time, but I think I started eating clean towards the end of 2019.

I'm actually happy for myself. I have found amazing little moments throughout my day that have been making me happy, like blowing bubbles for my cat who likes to pop them, watering my plants outside and even cleaning my room. I did a lot today for someone who keeps almost having panic attacks. I've been doing good with managing that too. I'm happy I have some tools to help me manage when I'm getting anxious or fearful. I still feel like I am in and out of things, dissociating, but I do think the little moments of presence has been helping a whole lot.

Throughout this time, it does feel like I am integrating an old part of myself instead of just leaving her behind. Maybe I will elaborate more tomorrow, but I had gotten this realization yesterday that I literally threw away and forgot an old version of me for this new "spiritual" version of me. I am integrating that shy, anxious and depressed Daisy in me that has always been here, peaking through during the times that things got hard. During those times I felt lost and sad for no reason. I do feel a little more whole in a way, like I found a part of myself that was lost in time. A part of me who I kept moving away from. But now I feel I came back for her. And I am happy I did. I want to know every part of me, I want every version of me here with me, integrated within. I can't change the past. I don't want to. There are so many "healing" videos on the internet that tell you you can change your past by re-imagining it. But I do feel now, that that does not feel right. I want my past to be there so that I may learn from it, not to invalidate myself or anything I went through. I want to give new meaning to it though, and not see myself so much as a victim of my past.

#me #journaling #healing #self healing #journal

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rumpledgoldenweaver · 5 years ago

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If A Picture Spoke A Thousand Words

This my first foray into any sort of organized Fan Fic writing thing so here goes! Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling October prompts, it was the camera picture on the mood board that caught my eye. Basically Rumple tells a story and Gideon takes a picture. Fluff, humour, no smut sorry!

There was an imp that lived deep in the forest, a golden skinned imp dressed in leather and dragon hide. He stole children that didn’t behave themselves, taking them back to his castle and making them clean the many hundreds of rooms using only a bucket of water and a scrubbing brush. If their cleaning was to the imp’s high standards he might – only might mind you – give them a stale crust of bread for their supper. This was a fact Gideon Gold knew because his Papa had told him so and his Papa knew everything.

The first time Papa had warned him about the imp, Gideon had been practising his drawing on the living room walls, using Mama’s best lipstick because he couldn’t find his crayons. He’d proudly shown his parents the masterpiece he’d created however their reaction hadn’t been quite what he’d expected. Everyone’s a critic he supposed.Mama sent Papa out of the house for a walk whilst she and his elder brother Balefire set about removing the mural Gideon had so carefully created. At least Balefire had taken a photo of it first, apparently so they could show his girlfriends when he was eighteen. Quite why they’d want to leave it that long before displaying the drawing Gideon had no idea, adults were weird.Papa returned a while later, he sat the young boy on his lap and weaved a tale of a golden imp, and how if Gideon ever did that again, the imp would take him away. The imp must be truly terrifying Gideon decided because his Mama and brother couldn’t even stay in the same room to hear the story, and he saw Mama wiping tears from her eyes. He solemnly promised never to misbehave ever again. Of course being only five and three quarters that promise lasted roughly five and three quarter minutes, but the threat of the imp made him reconsider his choices.

There was no further mention of the imp that night. Papa put Gideon to bed, they read a story about dinosaurs, shared a big hug and Papa assured him he still loved him. The little boy, tired from his exploits soon settled down to sleep.

It was sometime later that little Gideon woke up in need of the bathroom, he called for his Mama but she didn’t answer him. He could be brave enough to go on his own, it was only five steps across from his room. Grabbing his favourite teddy bear for company he set off on his mission. Mama would be so proud! He was halfway back to his room when he heard a muffled sound coming from downstairs. He stopped to listen. It was Mama’s voice, she sounded distressed. There was another voice too, one Gideon didn’t recognise. He crept to the top of the stairs then he and his bear sat down to listen some more. It wasn’t Papa’s voice and it wasn’t Balefire because he’d gone home ages ago.

“Whatever shall I do with you Dearie?” the voice trilled

“You wicked Imp!” his Mama gasped

Oh no! Mama was in trouble! The imp had come from the forest and was trying to take her away. Where was Papa? Maybe he’d gone to his potion room.. he wouldn’t be able to hear in there! There was only one thing for it, Gideon was going to have to rescue his Mama himself. He was about to set off down the stairs when he spotted Papa’s camera on a shelf. He wasn’t supposed to touch it but how else could he prove to Papa what had happened? Besides the imp was already in the house, how much worse could things be? Bear seemed to agree, so grabbing the camera before nerves got the better of him he crept quietly down the stairs following the sound of the voices to the living room. Gideon and his bear gently pushed the door open, peaking round he almost gasped out loud. There was the imp on the sofa, Mama was trapped underneath him, she sounded very out of breath. Gideon quickly pointed the camera at them, pressing the button that took the photos. He charged into the living room shouting “I’ll save you Mama” at the very top of his little voice.

Both grown ups tried to sit up at once which resulted in the imp being unceremoniously deposited on the floor. He looked at Gideon in horror then vanished in a cloud of red smoke.“I did it! I did it! I saved you from the imp Mama! Me and Bear we saved you!” the over excited little boy cried throwing his arms round her neck “Papa will be so proud won’t he Mama”

Belle wasn’t sure parental pride would be the first feeling Rumple had right now. Certainly she hadn’t felt she needed saving however there was no way she would be telling Gideon any of that, so instead opted for asking him why he wasn’t in bed. The story tumbled out at a hundred miles an hour “and I took a picture Mama, I know I’m not supposed to touch the camera but Papa will never believe it otherwise – LOOK”He ran over to the door, retrieved the photo that had fallen onto the carpet before shoving it under Belle’s nose.

“I’ll take that Gideon” Belle quickly stuffed the picture into her handbag. There was no need for it to be on display anywhere. Ever.

Gideon’s face fell, Mama didn’t look very pleased with him. He thought she’d be happy to be saved from a life of floor scrubbing and stale bread. Maybe she wanted to go with the imp but what about Papa.. where was Papa anyway? His bottom lip started to wobble.

“I did do good didn’t I Mama..”

Belle scooped him up in a bear hug “Of course you did darling, of course you did” she soothed, rocking him back and forth. Where was Rumple? if she ended up dealing with all this on her own there would be words when he did re-materialize. Ten more minutes passed before Belle decided on finding her husband the old fashioned way. She said his name three times to summon him.

“You called sweetheart?” Rumple poked his head round the door frame, the carefully constructed look of complete innocence he’d been perfecting disappeared as soon as he saw his upset son being comforted by his not entirely happy either wife “What on earth is the matter!”

Gideon squirmed from Belle’s lap “Papa Papa!” he cried “I saved Mama from the imp Papa, I really really did!”

Rumple caught the young boy and swung him upwards “Did you now?”

“Yes Papa and I took a picture with your camera to prove it!”

Rumple’s ears went a delicate shade of red “Did you now” he repeated looking over Gideon’s shoulder at Belle with a questioning look on his face. Belle discreetly motioned toward her handbag.

“Gideon you know you aren’t allowed to mess with my camera”

“I know Papa” Gideon sniffed, tears were starting to well in his eyes, maybe his daring rescue hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

“It’s okay” Rumple kissed the top of the boy’s forehead “Just this once it’s okay. The imp has gone and Mama’s safe. That’s all that matters. Now back to bed with you”

With a twitch of his fingers Rumple cast a small sound proofing spell over his son’s bedroom and headed back downstairs. The living room door had barely shut behind him but he could no longer contain the laughter that had been building up ever since he’d poofed himself away earlier. Belle started to giggle too, soon they were both wiping tears from their eyes.

After they’d composed themselves, Rumple asked if he could see the photo his son was so very proud of. Belle said nothing, she simply reached into her handbag and handed it over.

“Oh” was all Rumple could say. The master wordsmith reduced to a single syllable. There he was in full Dark One splendour, his shirt undone, lying on top of Belle who looked thoroughly dishevelled.

“We’ll have to burn it or magic it into oblivion or..”

“Not a chance” Rumple smiled “you look far too beautiful. I’ll lock it in the same place I locked the camera. No one will find it there” with a flick of his wrist the photo vanished “Now then Dearie, where were we before that troublesome young knight disturbed us?”

Belle gasped, her husband had changed himself back into the Dark One again.

“You are a very wicked imp!”

#a monthly rumbelling #Rumbelle #Gideon #fluff #humour #fan fic

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eamesandbellamyaremyheaven · 5 years ago

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Heart of Novocaine Ch2|| Jax Teller x Sansa Stark (SoA/GoT)

Sons of Anarchy x Game of Thrones AU (show divergent)

Warnings: none for now, but there will be violence and smut in the future - with SAMCRO what do you expect? 😜

Summary: After loosing her mother and elder brother in an accident, Sansa takes her younger siblings and moves in with Jon, who lives in Charming, to start anew, amidst from and the suffering and heartache from the past. But can she adapt to Jon’s dangerous lifestyle? And what if her “past” comes looking for her? And for how long will she be able to abstain herself from the alluring advances of Jax?

Chapter One ||

Chapter Two - Bird on the Wire

Sansa sat down on top of her bed covers, crossing her legs under herself, waiting for Margaery to accept the video call. She looked to her side, watching as Arya was sound asleep, with her back turned to her. In her younger years, she had always complained having to share her room with her sister, and now, both grown-ass women, had to share a bed. A fucking bed. Thank god it was a big, double bed, or Sansa would’ve rather slept on the floor. Arya was a lousy bed companion, and during the night would throw her legs on top of Sansa’s, or somehow she would manage to slap Sansa on her face and chest. And there was also the matter of the drunk snoring, something Sansa had experienced the last time they went camping, when they stole their parents a couple bottles of whiskey and played drinking games.

“Hellooo, earth to Sans!?” Margaery high pitched voice echoed through the phone, calling Sansa out of her daydreaming

“Sorry, I’m here” Sansa apologized, smiling fondly “I missed you so much, Margie! How are you?”

“Oh, you know, bored to the core, nothing fun happens here” Margaery pouted, before continuing “How about you, living with a biker gang... Anyone worth mentioning?” she asked, giggling her eyebrows suggestively

Him “No” Sansa tried to sound nonchalant, but she knew she had failed, as she felt her cheeks warming up, something that her best-friend had also noticed

“You sure?” she teased

“Yeah, I’m sure” Sansa said, rolling her eyes, but her grin was hard to miss. Those damned eyes...

“Sansa, dear, by the way you’re blushing, I bet those pajama trousers are wet as hell”

“Margaery!” Sansa yelped, bringing her spare hand up to cover her face, as her friend laughed happily. Margaery always pushed her just the right way, and she became a different person around her. More loose, confident, and daring, and Sansa loved the power that transpired from her, when she was with Margaery. She looked to her side, and Arya was deep in her heavy sleep “Okay, I’m gonna tell you something, but you cannot, I repeat CANNOT tell anyone”

Margaery smiled deviously “Cross my heart”

“Jon’s been friends with this guy since his teens, right, and he was the one that introduced him to the club. It so happens that his family owns the auto shop we work in and he’s also smoking hot, I mean, steaming hot, drop dead gorgeous, looks that could kill kind guy. And you know what’s the worst?”

“what?”

“He knows he’s so damn irresistible, and he’s not afraid to show it. And he keeps teasing me, and calling me Red, and I’m trying really hard to keep my distance because I know nothing good will come from messing with him, but he’s starting to get on my nerves. Even the way he smokes is stupidly sexy, and that smug grin does things to me that I’m too ashamed to say out loud”

Sansa finished with a sigh, feeling a lot better for finally talking about her frustrations with her best-friend. Margaery, on the other end, was silent.

“You need to get laid” she finally said, despite the protests that erupted out of Sansa “So let me get this straight. Your boss is a hottie, your personal Christian Gray in leather, whiskey and smoke, that keeps flirting with you, and you’re having second thoughts?” Margaery asked, dumbfounded

“He’s my boss” Sansa recalled

“Yeah, I know”

“And he’s Jon’s best - and quite possibly - only friend” Sansa pressed

“That’s unfortunate. For Jon”

“Margie!”

“Alright, I get it, off limits” the brunette said, bringing her arms up, as a gesture of surrender “But I still think you need to get laid, to get him off your mind”

“Any suggestions?” Sansa joked, as her friend brought her hands down, and looked up, thoughtful

“The 4th of July weekend is coming up in a couple weeks, I could visit you and I would help you find a gentleman that is willing to... assist you in that matter. I can take Loras with me and we’d go out to a bar, or something. It’ll be fun” she finished, with a wink

Sansa chuckled “You’re my hero”

“I’m happy you be of service”

Sansa looked to the clock on the bed table, it was twenty minutes past midnight.

“I need to go to sleep now, but we’ll talk about your visit tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay. Love you, bestie” Margaery waved and sent a kiss

“Love you more, bestie” Sansa replied, before ending the call

She sat the phone down on the table, next to the clock, and slipped inside the covers, feeling happy knowing her best-friend in the world was coming to spend a couple days with her, and she would finally get rid of that itch that was a certain mister Jax Teller.

*~*~*~*

Sansa set down the last book on the shelf with a self-satisfied grin on her face, as she finally finished organizing the accounting books of the Teller-Morrow Autoshop. It took her the better part of two weeks to do it, too, and countless late evenings, but it was done.

“Fuckin’ finally” said Gemma, as she tapped a stack of papers on the tabletop, aligning them perfectly, and set them inside a folder, closing it promptly “I’s starting to think we’d never see the end of it”

“Well, it’s done” Sansa stated, with a smile, and the older woman smiled back.

Sansa liked Gemma a lot, and it seemed to her that the feeling was reciprocate. Gemma had taken her in her wing, these past couple weeks, and Sansa had learned that there was nothing Gemma wouldn’t do for her family, and the club. All she asked in return was devotion, and honesty. She would occasionally ask about Sansa’s life before she came to Charming, about her family, her friends, and past lovers, and if there was a topic Sansa would evade - past lovers - she wouldn’t press on.

“So, have you got any plans for the 4th of July?” Gemma inquired, with a raised eyebrow, as she leaned back on her chair and lighted a cigarette, as Sansa sat down on her chair

“Actually yes, I do. My best-friend and her brother are coming for the weekend. Arya and the boys cleaned the backyard, and the pool, and I think we’ll have a BBQ” Sansa raised her head and looked towards Gemma, as an idea settled in “You should come. I mean, Jon could invite the club, everyone brings the family, and we’ll have a good time”

Gemma laughed “Oh honey, they would bring the house down”

“No, it’ll be fun, I like having them around”

Sansa was caught by surprise by her own admission. They were starting to grow on her. Gemma had been right, they were a big family, there was no way around it.

“Alright then” Gemma grinned, and Sansa noticed it was the same smug smile Jax had “But we need a fuckload of beer”

*~*~*~*

Even though it was only the beginning of the week, and the holiday was only on Sunday, Gemma had insisted to do the shopping beforehand. She had to stop by the cleaners, she had said. For that, Sansa was left “in charge” of the shop. It was not the first time, really, but it was the first time something went terribly wrong.

“FUCK!”

Sansa rushed to the garage, her heart pounding on her ears, when she noticed a terrified Eddie jumping up and down with his hands clasped on his butt-cheeks, while the rest of the group, Tig, Chibs, Jon and Juice stood there laughing their arses off, practically into tears.

“What in the hell happened!?” Sansa snaps, eyes wide and hands over her hips

“We’re just playin’ with the prospect, that’s all” Juice says in between coughs, as he tried to contain his laughter, as the rest of the group were too

“THEY SHOT ME IN THE ASS!!!” Half-Sack yells, and the loud laughter returned

Sansa frowned, looking at Jon with menace, and he began to explain, knowing fully well that she would kick his ass in front of the Sons if she didn’t get an answer “It was an accident, Sans. With a nail gun. He came out of nowhere, and-”

“Someone needs to take him to the ER” Sansa cut him off, pointing at the poor boy

“It’s nothing, no need to worry that pretty head of yours” Juice retorted, as the laughter was dying out

“You know what, Juice? You better watch your mouth or I’ll slap the bullshit out of you!”

There’s not a sound on the garage. Jon is wide-eyed and mouth open, paralyzed on the spot. Tig and Chibs, the wonder-duo, had adverted their gaze to anywhere expect her imposing frame, and Juice’s expression is a mix of confusion, and admiration.

“Whoa Sans, didn’t mean to upset ya” he said in an apologetic tone

“Just forget it, I’ll take him. C’mon Eddie, let’s go”

Sansa stormed out, pulling her car keys out of her back pocket, followed closely by an agonized prospect. She never meant to snap like that, specially at Juice, whose company she’d learned to appreciate over time, pet names aside. He was funny and kinda sweet, although a little empty-headed. She would apologized when she returned from the hospital, she had decided. But for now, she wanted to leave him feeling guilty for pushing her buttons a little too far. As she was reaching the door, she heard Juice’s voice “Damn Jon, ya sis got some big balls of steel!”

*~*~*~*

Jax enjoyed these little private times with Abel. Of course, for the baby it was all the same, whether he was there or not, but for him it meant the world. Abel was his world, at least, the innocent part of him that he hoped to preserve unstained. There was no hope for him and Wendy, no love left, but for Abel he knew, in his heart, that he had something good left to give.

So he would visit his baby son, and he would talk with him, for him, for a couple of hours everyday. And the baby responded well to his voice, Tara had said, as he was growing strong everyday. Jax couldn’t be more proud of the little ass-kicker.

The only matter he was still wary of was Tara, as in being around Tara and not get his heart broken, again. Tara had bailed on him once, and he knew that if things went south she’d do it again, it was her classic MO. Still, having her around once more made him optimistic, thinking that maybe this time she would stay with him.

But did he wanted her to stay? With him, for the matter? If felt bittersweet, thinking of Tara, looking back to their childhood good times and the way they’d loved one another without remembering the way he felt when she left. The hurt of the betrayal was still very present on his mind, and he wasn’t sure he could trust her again like he used to, specially now, that a wrong turn, a bad decision could affect directly the club, and his family.

And, to complicate things further, as if they weren’t a big mess as they were already, there was the growing infatuation on a certain redheaded goddess, a crush he didn’t seem to have any control of, that was leaving him a sleepless moron and a daydreamer, like a love-fool. He hated the power she had over him, even if she didn’t know it. She was too good for his lifestyle, anyway. What would happen to the sweet Sansa, being thrown into a world of chaos, blood and violence? He would never let that happen to her, he had decided, she deserved better.

Jax waved goodbye to Tara, and glance once over to Abel, as he left the nursery. He walked his confident stride, but he knew his face showed different, a bit gloomy. He hated when he was logical. Now he was brooding, he though to himself. What in the hell was she doing to him!?

As he walked by the emergency room, he noticed a tall frame of a woman with hair the colour of fire, that even behind a curtain he could see the bright shades of red, and he stopped abruptly.

“Sansa?” he called, hesitantly, pushing the curtain aside slightly, just enough for him to peek through. She turned around, in surprise, but as soon as her eyes met his her face softened, and she gave him one of those smiles that race his heart, boiled his blood, and shook his bones.

“Oh- hey Jax” she said gently, and he rushed forward

“What happened?” he asked, and she raised her hand, pointing at Half-Sack. He was lying in the stretch facing down, his bloody butt-cheek sticking out of the hospital robe.

Jax raised his brow at Sansa, the curiosity of the situation making him grin, or maybe it was the sinful looks she was sending him as she spoke.

“Juice shot him in the ass with a nail gun”

Jax crossed his arms over his chest, trying really hard not to laugh his ass off. He looked at the boy, and back at Sansa, who was looking back at him, biting her lower lip, obviously trying not to laugh too. So fucking adorable.

“Well, I bet you can find a good use to that hole too” he finally said, mockingly, not being able to hold it in anymore

“Oh, screw you Jax!” Eddie yelled, raising his head at him, flustered

“I just might let you, if I can use the new hole” he said, winking at him, as Sansa made a repulsed expression and shove him aside, making him finally burst in laughter

“Jax, what are you still doin-?” Tara walked in, but stopped abruptly as she noticed he was not alone.

“Tara, this is Sansa and Half-Sack, they work at the autoshop. Tara’s the doc looking after Abel, and she’s an old-friend” Jax explained, the latter part more directly at Sansa, although he wasn’t sure why

Tara glance at Sansa quickly, as she walked towards the stretch, holding the patient chart, analyzing it “It’s a small puncture, there’ll be no need for stitches. Just the tetanus shot and a bandage, and he’s out in 20 minutes, max”

“Thank you” Sansa said with a soft smile, and Tara smiled back

“Well, in that case I’m going back to the TM. Sans, need a lift?” he cursed himself under his breath, Tara was looking at him with curiosity

“Nah, I’ll wait for Eddie”

Eddie? What the fuck!? When did he became Eddie!?

“Besides, I brought my car” she finished with an apologetic smile

“Sure, whatever” he tried to sound casual, uninterested, but by the way Sansa looked confused, and Tara amused, he knew he was failing miserably. He needed to get out of there, quickly. He grabbed a cig as he turned around to the exit, already knowing the reaction he would draw out of Tara

“NO SMOKING INSIDE THE HOSPITAL!”

*~*~*~*

Sansa watched as Jax left the room, unsure of what to think of what had just happened. Jax looked uneasy when Tara joined them, they obviously had more in common than an old-friendship. Not that Sansa cared, anyways. Okay, maybe she cared a little. Tara was stunning, and she had a medical degree. She was no croweater.

“Hey, I’m gonna stop by Abel’s, do you wanna come with me?” Tara asks, and Sansa hesitates “It won’t take long, it’s just enough time for the nurse to take care to your friend”

Sansa couldn’t decline, it would be rude. So she nodded, and followed quietly the doctor into the nursery, stopping dead in her tracks as she saw the baby. Abel was lying inside an incubator, tubes covering his small frame and dressed only in a diaper. Sansa felt herself gasp at the sight of the fragile body, a recent scar covering most of his chest.

“He was born with an hereditary heart condition, passed on from Jax’s family” Tara noted, as she walked closer to the incubator. She looked back at Sansa, who was petrified at the door, and made a motion with her hand, pleading for her to join her.

“He was also born premature, due to his mother’s drug abuse”

“I know, Gemma told me” Sansa heard herself say, low and mechanical, as she could not advert her eyes from Abel. She felt herself grabbing hold of her own left wrist, brushing her finger softly over the handkerchief she wore folded as a bracelet. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about him...

“You need to be careful with Gemma” Tara said, and Sansa looked away from the baby, right into her eyes “There’s nothing she wouldn’t do for her family. And that makes her dangerous”

Sansa wasn’t a stupid girl. She knew Gemma was dangerous. They all were.

“I know what Gemma is, I know what they all are capable of” her gaze was intense, determined “But my brother Jon is a member of the club, so this is my home now. They can’t frighten me”

Tara shook her head, recognizing the eminent defeat, as the end of her mouth curled up slightly, obviously impressed by Sansa’s boldness. From now on she would think twice before underestimate Sansa ever again, for sure.

“May God help you then”

A.N.//- Well, here’s the second chapter! Didn’t expected to finish it so soon, but I’m really excited with this story progression. If the end seemed rushed, it’s because the chapter was getting long, and I didn’t wanted to break it in two. There will be plenty of Sansa and Tara interactions in the future, I promisse!

Sorry for any mispellings, english is not my native language, and I don’t have a beta-reader. Feedback = Love!

Taglist is OPEN: @lokilvrr

#heartofnovocainefic #jax teller #sansa stark #sanjax #jax teller imagine #sansa stark imagine #crossover #fanfiction #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #jax teller fanfiction #sansa stark fanfiction #game of thrones #game of thones au #soa #got #got au #eabamh masterlist

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adana-knows · 5 years ago

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My Daily Routine (Imbolc 2020)

I change up my daily routine frequently - I like to shake things up each time a new Sabbat rolls by, sometimes more often if things aren’t working. I should also note that I have a lot of free time at the moment, and the luxury of making my own hours. I have no children or time restraints, other than making sure my boyfriend doesn’t sleep through his work alarm.

My Morning Routine

Wake up. I stretch, grab my glasses, climb out the bed, and head to the bathroom.

Kitty Care. It’s time to feed the cats and re-fill their water fountain. I also take this time to do a quick scoop of their litter boxes.

Unload the Dishwasher. After I wash my hands, I then take a moment to unload the dishwasher, and to load any dishes or glasses left out since the last time I ran it.

Hydration. My goal is to drink more water, but let’s face it: I like sugar. I like tea, and I like soda. If I have either ready-made or on hand, I’ll usually choose that over water in the morning, but I do make an effort to drink at least a couple glasses of water every day. This is also when I take my meds and vitamins (B12 and D3).

Bullet Journal. My bullet journal helps me keep track of all kinds of things - cleaning, birthdays, appointments, holidays, sabbats, moon phases. I try to make time for sitting down and figuring out what needs to be done each morning. My goal is to list at least three of the most important tasks that need to be done, and actually do them before the end of the day. It’s also at this time that my cat, Xena, likes to flop down on top of my paper and demand attention, so I’ll pet and groom her at this time.

Read. I spend an hour or so reading and/or researching. Usually this means reading a book that can help build a skill, improve my life, or informs me on a subject, such as paganism, spirituality, minimalism, or witchcraft. If I’m researching a specific topic that I have no books for, then I’ll spend this time Googling, but it’s easy to slip down the deep dark internet hole and not get anything really done on this front.

Movement. It’s winter where I live, and if it’s under 40 F outside, I’m not walking to the gym (which is about a 15-20 minute walk from my home). This means moving at home, usually with some yoga. I like to do Sun Salutations, but if I’m in the mood for something a little extra, I might pop in an Ashley Turner yoga video or follow a video by Yoga with Adrienne on YouTube.

Meditation. My best meditation sessions are always after expending a lot of energy and working up a sweat. I’ll devote about 20 minutes to meditation. I generally don’t do guided meditations unless I’m performing ritual; this is usually just me with my eyes closed.

Self Care. I’ll shower, get dressed, brush my teeth, run a brush through my hair, and spend some time on me. Sometimes this is as simple as shaving my legs, exfoliating, painting my nails, or taking a file to my heels. Other times I’ll try out a new hairstyle, put on a full face of makeup, or give myself a mani-pedi. My goal is to go out of my way and do at least one thing every day to pamper myself that’s not part of my daily routine.

Prayer. This is the cornerstone of my morning ritual, and the reason I do it! What I do depends on the moon phase, but I honor Hestia everyday by lighting a candle and offering a prayer (usually with my prayer beads), giving an offering of water to the ancestors, and burning incense for the Lare. If I’m currently working on a skill, I’ll end my session with a related exercise, and maybe journal about my experience.

Creativity. After a long hot shower, I then do something creative. Sometimes this is doing extra research or reading. Other times I create a new bullet journal spread, color in a coloring book, work on a page in my Book of Shadows, brainstorm ideas for something, or write. While I’m doing this, I like to watch TV or YouTube on a related topic. For example, if I’m working on my bullet journal, I’ll watch YouTube videos of bullet journal layouts and spreads. If I’m working in my Book of Shadows, I’ll watch videos on the topic of paganism. If I’m working on writing, then I’ll put some themed ambient noise on so that I can fully concentrate on what I’m doing. If I’m coloring, doodling, sketching, etc, I might just put on Hulu and catch up with a recent TV show. I’ll do creative work for about an hour.

Brunch. If I have to cook my meal on the stove, I’ll light my Hestia candle, give a prayer, and then cook; when done, I’ll say thanks and extinguish the candle. When I’m ready to eat, I’ll say another prayer to Hestia (because I do a LOT of meal prepping, I can go days without actually needing to cook), give Her an offering of my first and last bite (because She was born first and last) or an offering of cornmeal or grain.

Free Time. From this time to my afternoon routine, I’ll do whatever I feel like. I might play a game, get lost on Pinterest, watch YouTube videos, watch movies, chat on the phone, or work on some project or another.

Afternoon Routine

Honoring Hestia. All acts of cleaning in my home is dedicated to Hestia. I’ll light a candle, say a quick prayer, and leave the candle to burn on my altar while I clean. Sometimes I’ll burn incense as well, depending on my mood and as inspiration strikes.

Open up the apartment. For me, this means cracking open my sliding glass door and let in some fresh air. It’s pretty cold out, so it’s only cracked about an inch or two while I clean.

Dishes. I’ll collect any dishes I’ve dirtied throughout the day, and sweep my boyfriend’s computer area for dishes, glasses and silverware as well. If I skipped unloading the dishwasher in the morning (sometimes I get lazy or distracted), I’ll do it now. No matter how full or not, I’ll run the dishwasher now.

5 Minute Tidy. This is when I spend 5 minutes in every room of my apartment and tidy up. It’s great when I get overwhelmed with how much to do and helps identify the most important mini tasks that need to be done per room; just set a timer and work as quickly as I can until it goes off.

Weekly Cleaning. There are some things that need to be done each and every week, like changing the litter box, scrubbing the toilet, dusting, emptying the refrigerator of leftovers, etc. I keep a detailed list in my bullet journal and track when I do these things. I generally group these tasks by day: Mondays are the bedroom, Tuesdays the bathroom, Wednesdays the kitchen, Thursdays the living room, and Fridays are the hallway and getting done whatever didn’t completed earlier in the week.

Deep Cleaning. There’s also things that need to be done seasonally, like sweeping the ceiling for cobwebs, cleaning underneath and behind the fridge, and tackling the mess that is my cabinets and drawers (they get messy over time). These tend to be tasks that need to be done all over the apartment or are a rather big task, so I’ll do one a day.

Garbage. If there’s garbage that needs to be taken out, I do it. I’ll grab the mail coming back in, and go through that.

Miscellaneous Tasks. If there’s anything I wanted - or need - to get done that doesn’t fit into the above, but was important enough to make it on my daily list in my bullet journal, it gets done now.

Close the Apartment. Close the sliding glass doors to prevent the cats from getting bold enough to try and pop the screen and run outside. Not that they stay out there long when it’s cold. It’s just a pain in the butt having to go out there and retrieve them, especially if they manage to get out of courtyard.

Fragrance. If I didn’t burn incense, then I’ll spray some febreeze around. We have 3 cats and let me tell you - the apartment smells like it in the winter. Opening up the house helps, but it doesn’t get rid of the scent completely. I’ll febreeze my couch and bed with the febreeze for cloth and sheets, and spray scented stuff (usually Glade) around the apartment.

Thank Hestia. I go back to my altar, give a prayer of thanks, and extinguish my Hestia candle. If incense is still going, I’ll let it burn itself out and then clean up the ashes.

The BF Comes Home. Right about now, my boyfriend comes home from work. I’ll take a moment to say hi.

More Free Time!

Evening Routine

Kitty Care. Refill cat bowls for the night. If a bowl is looking kind of gross or needs to be cleaned, this is when I’ll do it (before refilling it).

Dishes. I’ll bring any dishes or glasses left in the living room or around the apartment to the kitchen sink.

Quick Tidy. I tend to make a pretty big mess when I’m in the middle of a project, or when I’m just having a lazy evening, so I’ll take a few minutes to put away books, shelve binders, organize papers, throw pens and pencils into my pencil case, and fluff the pillows on the couch.

Evening Prayer. I don’t do this every evening, usually because I tend to stay up until I start to doze off, and at that point, all I can think of is the bed. But if I can, I’ll go to my altar, say a gratitude prayer to any deities that I’m working with, and clean up any offerings left on the altar. Offering clean up might be postponed to the next morning.

Self Care. I’ll brush my teeth, wash my face, change into pajamas.

Read. If I’m still a little too awake for bed, I might read for 20 minutes to an hour, depending.

Sleep.

#Routine #Daily Routine #Morning Routine #Evening Routine #Afternoon Routine #Cleaning Routine #Prayer #Hestia #Offering

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ehstarwar · 5 years ago

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and nothing brings me all things (reylo drabble)

Rey could watch more TikToks or play more Animal Crossing or try another disastrous Pinterest recipe or re-read her favorite Galaxy Battles fan fic. Puzzles were a good way to kill a few hours. She had at least three episodes to catch up on with Keeping Up with the Kardashians.

And while all of these were valid options, the most appealing was the one Rey did most often: bother Ben.

Rey and Ben are stuck in quarantine and Rey's solution to boredom is being clingy af. (Ben absolutely does not mind.)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4.2K

Read on AO3

Notes: hello all! here is another quarantine induced drabble that i did to fill the void of not being able to go to Galaxy's Edge whenever i please. enjoy

( ˊᵕˋ )♡

(also, get chu a soft!freak like Ben)

It’s not that Rey has nothing to do. There is plenty to do. She could do laundry or re-organize the pantry or change out the air filters or clean out her closet. She could also watch more TikToks or play more Animal Crossing or try another disastrous Pinterest recipe or re-read her favorite Galaxy Battles fan fic.

It’s just that she’s done it all. For the past three weeks. Ad nauseam.

As she sits a one of the bar stools, looking over the staunchly white kitchen, (because Ben had insisted that a gourmet kitchen should be all white), she thinks of the activities that would take up the most time.

Puzzles were a good way to kill a few hours. She had at least three episodes to catch up on with Keeping Up with the Kardashians. Leia did get her the basket of french skin care products that she should would have to use google translate to figure out what each one was for. Animal Crossing was a good distraction for the first two weeks of quarantine, but even scamming poor, old Tom Nook out of bells didn’t have the same appeal three weeks in.

And while all of these were valid options, the most appealing was the one Rey did most often: bother Ben.

Her beautiful, stoic, fuckable redwood of a boyfriend who was lucky enough to actually work from home. One of the benefits of being a lawyer was that the majority of paperwork and emails and meeting’s Ben dealt with regularly could all be easily made available at home. The office that Rey had insisted on for him was finally being put to good use months after they finally moved into their renovated apartment.

What had been a place to put Bens’ libraries’ worth of books and various awards and achievements was finally getting some good use out of it. Which is more than Rey could say for herself. Han made the difficult decision to close the auto shop the same day Leia sent everyone at the publishing company to work from home (including Ben) and Rey tried not to be bitter about it.

It was for her safety, and everyone else, and she understood why it was being done. Han had even begrudgingly admitted that fear of Ben chopping his head off would have probably meant that Rey wouldn’t have been working even if the shop had remained open.

It was the most common story these days, and Rey was grateful that Ben was still working all while being home and safe.

But fuck all if she wasn’t bored.

Rey decided that two hours in between annoying Ben was enough time for him not to be mad that she was back to do it again. (But Ben never got mad at Rey for long.) She stepped quietly down the hall, knocking slightly on the door while opening it to Bens’ study.

Ben had is attention on his computer, typing away, not needing to even look at Rey to guess why she was here.

“Bored already, my love?” He asked. Rey entered the room all the way, but still stood by the door in case she needed to make a speedy getaway.

“Just wanted to see what you were doing in here.”

“The same thing I was doing the last three times you asked me that.” Only then does Ben spare a glance at his girlfriend, raising his eyebrow while a slight smirk adorned his lips.

“All is well in the legal world of publishing? No damn plagiarist trying to pass off as Shakespeare these days?” She asks, fiddling with some items on his desk as she steps further into the room.

“I haven’t come across any lately. But I’ll keep my eye out.” She hums her response before turning towards the gigantic book case that covers the entire of one wall.

“May I borrow a book?” She asks, running her hands along the spines of the shelf closest to her reach.

“Of course, my love.”

She grazes titles, avoiding the large volumes of legal names that she’s not sure she could pronounce if asked, heading to the smaller but more worn shelf of fiction titles that are more her speed.

It’s nice, Rey realizes after a minute. Sharing the same space with him, neither of them intruding or unwelcome. She likes hearing the tapping of keys behind her, knowing that Ben is absorbed in whatever project he’s focused on now. She has half a mind to not even pick a book, just look at the rows of titles so that she may stretch out this oddly calm time together with Ben. Not that its in short supply these days, but its always nice in a different context.

She plucks out the copy of Pride & Prejudice, a read she’s made many times but loves nonetheless, before making her way out the door and into their living room.

“Babe,” Ben calls out for her and she stops just before closing the door, and turns back to him. He is fully looking at her now, eyes big and lips pouting. When realization of what he wants washes over her, she feels less silly for wanting to annoy Ben.

Rey walks over to him, pressing a sweet but firm kiss on his impossibly plush lips, fulfilling his silent request. When the kiss ends, Rey goes back to walk out and Ben turns back to the monitor without any fuss.

Maybe Ben needed some attention just as much as Rey did.

Rey tossed and turned in her bed, finding no comfortable position. It’d been like this for the past hour, but Rey was too stubborn to give up on her nap. She moved and crouched until the evident failure of her mid-afternoon power nap became so frustrating, she screamed into her pillow.

Four weeks of quarantine and the boredom was enough to make Rey go nuts. She wasn’t someone who needed to leave her house often; she wanted to spend more time in the new apartment after they moved in, she just didn’t expect to spend this much time here.

Rey sighs as she opens her eyes, taking in her surroundings. Its the perfect mix of elements for Peak Afternoon Nap; freshly washed sheets, thunderstorms outside, BiBi balled up at the foot of the bed. All this, and yet, no magic nap.

Well, there was one element missing…

But said element was dutifully working after taking a long weekend to help cure Reys’ boredom. Going to him now and asking to lay down with her just so she could take a nap seemed kind of silly (even though Ben would do it).

They had formed something of a routine the past few days. Rey would wander into his office to find a book to read for the afternoon, spend some time asking inane questions that really didn’t deserve attention, then kiss Ben before heading out to read the first chapter of chosen book before abandoning it for something else.

It was a nice, sweet ritual that Rey looked forward to everyday, but that had already occurred on this day. The upside down cover of This Side of Paradise sat on her bedside table, next to her Nintendo switch. She thought fondly of this morning, Ben waking her slowly to remind her that she should get up before noon so she had enough time to buy turnips. Ben tells Rey he loves her in so many ways that sometimes Rey gets so overwhelmed with love that she physically aches.

She thinks that might be what she’s feeling right now, and she desperately wants to march into his office and tell him how much she loves him to try and find some semblance of balance, but she shouldn’t.

She shouldn’t march, at least.

She’ll quietly come in and give him another sweet kiss that is better than any piece of chocolate she’s ever had and tell him how much she loves him then allow him to get on with his work. It’s a good plan. Fool-proof. She can totally do it.

Except when she slowly walks in to his office to watch him type away, she thinks that a simple kiss and ‘I love you’ won’t do justice. So, as unobtrusive as humanly possible, Rey slides into his lap, facing him, legs around the side of his chair, and face resting in the crook of his neck.

Ben doesn’t say anything. In fact, he doesn’t even move. Just allows Rey to adjust herself around him like a koala bear to a tree. When she finally situates herself in a comfortable position, completely flush together, Ben speaks.

“Rey?”

She hums against his skin.

“Are you alright, my love?”

The deep rumble of his chest when he speaks is probably her second favorite sensation in the world. The first being when he makes her come so hard that she blacks out.

“I decided that I love you very much and this seemed like the most effective way to tell you.” She’s glad that Ben can’t see her face right now; he’d see the blush undoubtably spread across her cheeks.

“Ah,” He says. She thinks for a minute that Ben might indulge her before carefully peeling herself off fo him, citing work to be done as reasons for ending their entanglement. It would be perfectly valid and totally understandable and Rey wouldn’t be upset with him because she’s an adult who doesn’t need constant coddling.

But, oh, how she loves that he doesn't.

She feels Ben scoot the chair closer to the desk, then hears the tapping of the computer begin again. Ben continues on working, either not caring or not minding that Rey is in his lap. She waits for a few minutes, still thinking he might kick her off him, but when that never comes, she allows herself to relax further.

Her arms go to encircle his stomach as she burrows herself further into him. Bens’ only way of response is a pressed kiss to her temple as he continues to type away.

Rey isn’t sure what lulls her to sleep, either the white noise of rain or her endless boredom, but she does know that she wakes up to Bens’ hands rubbing circles against her back and his mouth humming her name into her skin.

“Rey..” He mumbles, between kisses on her neck. She really comes to then, realizing her mouth is open and a small wet spot of drool had formed on his shoulder. Her eyes blink open as she leans back to look at him.

Ben trails his kisses up her jaw, to the side of her mouth, not minding the dried drool there.

“What time is it?” She asked, voice groggy from sleep.

“5:30,” He responds, causing Rey to go rigid.

“5:30? I slept for two hours?” She gasps, pulling back to look at Ben. He shrugs, and pushes some hair behind her ear. “Why didn’t you wake me? You legs must be killing you by now!”

She goes to get off him, but Ben keeps her tight against him and leans down to continue kissing her face.

“I liked having you with me. It was… comforting.”

Rey ‘humphs’ indignantly.

“I feel bad now. I slept literally on top of you while you worked. I am the definition of a slug.”

Ben chuckles against her skin. “We are doing our civic duty by staying inside. I get rewarded with having you in my lap for the majority of the time. I think its a pretty sweet deal.”

Rey grumbles something like ‘too sweet’ while leaning into his kisses.

“Plus,” he adds, “I’m going to wear you out tonight, so I figured you could use a little nap today.”

It becomes their thing. She doesn’t always stay in his lap for such a long time, even though Ben wouldn’t mind, but she spends at least some time there everyday.

Ben never chides her away or make it difficult for her, just opens his arms whenever Rey comes into his office. She brings activities sometimes, mostly her switch or a book, things that won’t distract Ben from his work any more than she already is. If she falls asleep, Ben doesn’t wake her until his day is done and he logs off. Sometimes she pretends to be asleep just so she can feel Ben wake her up with sweet kisses.

It becomes such a comfort to her, that she’s honestly a little bummed out when Han gives them a call to say he might re-open the shop soon. She tries to sound enthusiastic about it, but can’t help but think about how she won’t get to spend half the day curled up in Bens’ lap.

When Rey’s face doesn’t light up at the prospect of going back to work, Ben knows somethings wrong. He doesn’t bring it up until they’re both in bed, curled together and freshly exfoliated by his mothers salicylic acid peel that she’d given Rey.

“I’m happy to be going back to work, really, it’s just…” Rey struggles to find the words that won’t make her seem like a petulant child.

“You’ll miss our afternoon cuddle session?” He finishes for her. She thinks Bens’ superpower is being able to talk about the most trivial of things without being condescending. She loves him even more for it.

“It’s just so nice! Spending that time together, physically together. Its so intimate and special to me. It’ll be hard to see that end.” She burrows closer to him, and Ben just wraps her in his embrace.

“I could always come down to the shop for lunch? It’s really not that far away, and-”

“Benjamin Chewbacca Solo, you will not spend half you lunch time commuting just so you can cuddle with me for a few minutes. While the gesture is incredibly sweet, it would just make me feel like shit for making you do it.”

She can feel his frown even if she can’t see it.

“It’s not like I don’t enjoy it, too. This may be shocking, but I like having you in my lap. You’re like a… weighted blanket, or comfort vests.” Rey snorts against his chest, muffling her laughter.

“That’s a very nice way of putting it, darling.” She imagines what they must look like, draped together in a shapeless blob.

Ben grumbles now. “Maybe not all the time… but I’d still do it.”

“Ben?” She asks, the first she’s spoken in well over an hour.

“Hm?”

“Are you watching porn?”

“What?”

“Are you watching porn right now?”

“No?”

“Well then what are you doing?”

“Organizing my email? Babe, are you okay?”

Rey stifles a laugh against his neck.

“You’re getting hard from organizing you emails?” Ben doesn’t miss the teasing lilt in her voice.

Ben gives a gruff ‘no’, but Rey continues to laugh anyway.

“Well, you’re defiantly getting hard.” She experimentally rocks her hips to his, feeling the ever-growing length of him.

“I happen to have a very squirmy girlfriend in my lap who like to tease too much.”

“Hmmm, I think it’s the organizing that’s doing it.”

The tapping on his keyboard gets a little stronger as he ignores her jibe, so Rey just continually rubs against him, feeling him twitch though his sweatpants. She kisses the underside of his jaw, working her way up to behind his ear, a spot that he’d previously described as his achilles heel.

“Rey,” Ben says, voice warning her. She ignores him and continues her assault. The clicking has ceased all together, and Rey feels him breath heavier. She trails her hand down his torso before dipping into the band of his pants and pulling him out. The whole foregoing underwear during quarantine is truly one of the greatest gifts she could receive.

He is hot and hard in her hand, twitching as she begins working her hand around his length. Rey swirls the beaded precome over his head, and Bens’ hands grab as her ass, hard. She feels so powerful like this, feeling his body constrict in pleasure beneath her, know that she’s the cause.

Well, her and organizing his email.

“Do you like this, baby? Like when I’m in your lap and I do this?” She nips his earlobe.

“Unnnnf… yes, baby,” he huffs. She works him faster now, feeling his hips start to jerk on the on volition. She rocks against him, still, not to get herself off, but just to make Ben go a little out of his mind. His palms kneed her butt, stretching her yoga pants to the maximum limit.

“You gonna come like this for me? You gonna come in your lap and make me sit in it, wishing it was in me instead of on me?”

Ben is past the point of coherent words, just grunts frantic nods as his orgasm approaches. She speeds up, using one hand to jerk him while the other plays with his balls. Rey mouths at his neck, sucking and biting him, wanting to leave little, purple marks wherever her mouth can reach.

Ben comes with a strangled grunt, spilling hotly between them. Most of his come drips down her hand as she works him, still, but she feels a hot splash across her chin. She pays it no mind, just continues to pepper kisses along his skin.

Bens’ head is thrown back as he comes down from his high, and he slowly lifts it back up as his breathing returns to normal. Rey pulls back from against him. Bringing her hand up to lick the come coating it. His gaze becomes dark when he sees what she’s doing.

“Wear a skirt, next time.” His voice is low and a little breathless, sending a chill though Reys’ spine.

“Or… nothing at all.”

Rey smiles at him as she continues to suck her fingers.

Their routine changes once again, but Rey can’t find the heart to complain. Not when she’s being so thoroughly seen to by Ben.

Sometimes its a slow, building thing, that they draw out until either one of them breaks from desire. Sometimes its fast and rough, and Rey always feels a little dirty after it. Ben occasionally is content to let Rey bounce on his dick, taking her pleasure from him in any way he can give it to her. Other times, Ben fucks her against the desk, keyboard digging into her back as he pounds into her, relentless and untamed.

She asks him after one session, come oozing out of her and back onto his lap, if his work suffers from it at all.

“My productivity has increased by 27% since I’ve started working from home.”

Rey fucks him twice the next day to congratulate him.

The first day she’s back at work isn’t as bad as she thought.

It’s really, really nice to see Han and Chewie, even if they must maintain a six foot distance. When she expresses her deference to this and tries to hug Han, he hold up a drill at her, effectively stopping her.

“Kid, if you get sick under my watch, my son will defiantly set my car on fire, with me in it! He told me so, in a very strongly worded text that any god-fearing adult would be wise to abide by.”

Rey rolls her eyes, but she knows her boyfriend. She chooses not to risk Han’s life.

Once the novelty of being back out in the world wears off, Rey can’t help but feel a little miffed. Ben is still working from home, and trying desperately to make that a full time thing, because he is literally mauled by Rey when she comes home.

As soon as she steps through their threshold, Rey is on Ben like they haven’t seen each other in days. Never-mind the fact that they have sex every night. And every morning. And usually get each other off after breakfast.

Even just a few weeks of getting hot office sex has spoiled Rey for life; she’s honestly not sure if she’ll survive not being in quarantine. And to think she once thought she was bored.

“My offer still stands, you know,” He tells her one evening. He’s staring the pasta while she is attached to his backside like a leech. “I can come to the shop during lunch if you miss me that bad.”

She groans against his shirt. “That’s so silly of me though! I should be able to go a few hours without seeing you! There are so many memes about couples who want to slit each others throats after spending so much time together, and I can barely work a full shift without needing to jump you as soon as I see you!”

��Ben just stirs the pasta and rubs her harms around his midsection.

“I can tell my dad to let you work from home.” She laughs against him.

“I don’t know if you recall, but I physically can’t work from home. It’s how we got into this predicament to begin with.” Ben hums in acknowledgement, and Rey just knows he’s thinking of alternatives.

“You could just FaceTime people who need to fix their cars and explain what they need to do. Probably safer that way, too,” he offers.

“Its got merit,” Rey starts, “But I usually need to get into the car to figure out what’s wrong. Plus, I don’t think it would actually be a good idea for us both to work from home.”

“Why not?” Ben spins around, looking down at her with a pout that she can never resist.

“If we both work from home, we would never step outside this apartment again. Or wear clothes! We’d become wild people, who rut nonstop and have to be chained apart just so others could speak to us.”

“I don’t see any real downside to that.” Rey slaps his chest playfully and he laughs down at her, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of her forehead. “Fine, fine!” He concedes. “Just promise me one thing.”

Rey tilts her head up, waiting for Ben to continue.

“You’ll at least work from home when we have kids.”

She narrows her eyes at him.

“Just while I’m pregnant.”

“And at least three months after.”

“Deal.”

“Did you get that file that I sent over around two?” Ben asks.

“The one about Ackbar’s book?” Leia questions.

“Yeah.”

“Yes, I’ve already forwarded it onto Holdo.”

“Okay, good, just checking. Thats all I had for today. I’ll wrap up the memo tomorrow and send it over before lunch.”

“Sounds good, Ben. But aren’t you forgetting something?” Leia’s tone implies that he is, in fact, forgetting something mildly important but nothing work related comes to mind. It isn’t until chubby little fingers grab at his sleeve that Ben realizes what his mother is asking for.

“Oh, sorry,” Ben puts the phone on speaker before lowering it to his chest. “Isobel, can you say hi to grandma?”

His daughter makes a babbling noise of glee that makes his mother coo.

“Awww, hi sweetie! G-ma will be over on Sunday for dinner! Can wait to see you, pumpkin!” She baby talks through the phone. Ben smiles down at his daughter, nestled firmly in his lap. Her chunky hands reach for his phone, no doubt to chew on it, so he quickly grabs one of her teething mitts instead. Her little mouth works on the plastic, drool spilling out the corners of her mouth, and bright hazel eyes look back up at him.

Ben will probably never recover from the way he feels when his daughter looks up at him and smiles. He’s okay with that.

Ben and Leia finish with their goodbyes and Ben heads to the kitchen, Isobel in tow, and starts to make dinner. More than a few people scoff when they find out it is Rey who does the dirty work in the household and Ben is the dutiful husband; cooking, cleaning, watching Isobel all day. Ben adjusted so well to working from home that he never went back to an office full time, which worked out perfectly when he and Rey found out they had a little one on the way.

It wasn’t the most usual of set ups, but it was theirs, and Ben loved it.

Rey swept in the kitchen once she got home, adorning both his and Isobels’ face with kisses, before plucking her daughter out of the carrier Ben is hardly ever without, and resting her on her hip.

“How was work today?” Rey asked, between blowing raspberries on Isobels freckled cheeks.

“Usual. Mom says hi. We have dinner at my parents on Sunday, this week, not ours.” Rey hums in acknowledgement. “How was the shop?”

“Same, really. Bunch of teenagers blowing out every part on their car because they don’t know how to drive. I honestly can’t wait until someone invents teleportation; too many dummies don’t know how to drive.” Rey makes an exaggerated frowning face, causing Isobel to laugh as her little fingers to to feel mama’s face.

“Why don’t you just invent it. Teleportation, I mean. That way you could retire early,” Ben gives her a smirk as he looks at Rey over his shoulder.

“Hmmm… would be less greasy,” Rey pretends to ponder. “What do you think, Bel-bel? Should Mama just finish the most technological advancement in human history so she can retire early?” Isobel babbled happily in her mothers arms, making them both laugh.

“Sounds like yes to me,” Ben shrugs, making Rey laugh harder.

Ben looked at the sight, his wife and daughter happy and laughing, and thinks he may have found paradise.

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