#I'm making sad faces about a few of these

[daydreamerwoah]

Love Through It All Pt. 13

tw: mentions of cheating, mentions of divorce; hurt; angst; anger; rollercoaster of emotion; sadness; arguing; crying; mentions of therapy/counseling; brief mention of sexual content; kidnapping; violence; guns

Please read Part 1 for my author notes for the beginning of this story if this is your first time here.

"Now.... was that so hard?" Jax teased as he tossed your phone on the ground. The crackling noise indicating that your screen probably shattered when it hit the hard floor. He chuckled as he walked around you, patting your shoulder like he was your friend. You tried to shrug him off, but he only squeezed your shoulder hard, making you wince.

You glanced at Andrei, seeing the same bored expression on his face. The only movement he made was when he shifted his weight as he gazed back at you with narrow eyes.

"What-what are you gonna do to him?" you asked. Terrified of what the response would be but desperately needing to know.

Jax hummed, "You'll just have to wait and see now, won't you?" He said as he leaned forward that his face was right in front of you. "I'm sure... you'll want to talk-"

"You need to make this quick," Andrei interrupted Jax's toying with you.

"Patience, my friend," he faced him, "You'll get what you came for," he said before facing you again, "Now.... let's make sure your caring husband gets to really see you."

"He won't believe you," you tried to convey with anger in your voice. But that only made him laugh again.

"I think the text I just him will."

************************************************************************

When Simon got out of the car, he looked around, noticing how deserted the neighborhood seemed. The drive to the place you texted was far out of the city. He immediately knew that this would only go two ways. He either would make sure you got out of there alive or you both would die. He didn't even want to think about the second option. There was no way he was going to allow you to die... not while he still could make sure you would be happy one day.

"Hands where I can see them," a voice said. Simon turned to his right, seeing two men dressed in all black come out of the dark shadows with guns drawn at him. He didn't recognize them and briefly wondered how the hell they got a hold of you. But if he did anything now, who knows if he would find you in time, so he raised his hands in the air before one of them slowly approached him.

With the other keeping his weapon pointed at Simon, the second man patted his clothes, finding and pulling out the two guns and a knife he had on him. When nothing else was found, the man shoved him in the direction of a damn near abandoned building across the street, "Move."

As they stepped through the doors, Simon saw exactly why it looked abandoned on the outside. The hot stench of sweat, sex, and drugs circulated the air around random bodies - including his.

It was a prostitution ring.

"Keep moving," the man said as he shoved Simon through the crowd of women and men toward a door in the back of the building. A guard who stood in front of it opened the door and let them through, leading down a flight of stairs to what looked like a basement. The cold air would have made him shiver if he wasn't fuming inside.

They strolled up to a large door, and one of the men banged on it twice before yelling something in an accent Simon immediately recognized.

Russian.

You had been captured by Russians?

A few seconds later, the door swung open, and he was shoved harshly into the dim room before he was hit on the back of his left knee, forcing him to kneel.

You screamed... Well tried to. Simon glanced up to meet your wide eyes as you tried wiggling out of the chair that you were still tied to. Duct tape had been taped over your mouth.

"Well.. well.. well.... look who we have here," Jax said from the side of the room as the two men also walked inside and closed the door. He drew his weapon and pointed it at Simon'.

The moment his eyes met Jax, he felt rage rush through his entire body. You even saw the expression on his face. He was out for blood. But this only made the man smirk.

"Fuckin' bastard," Simon whispered, only for Jax to hit him across the face with his gun.

You yelled out again, only for the sound to be muffled by the tape over your mouth.

"Can't tell you how long I've waited to do that," Jax said like it was a weight lifted off his shoulders just because he smacked your husband.

Tears started to run down your face, and you continued to try and make any noise. Simon quickly glanced at you, his eyes softening briefly, before looking around and seeing another man standing in the room - Andrei.

"Restrain him," Jax ordered, making the previous guards pull Simon to his feet before forcing him into a chair that was a couple of feet in front of you and tying him up. They even yanked his balaclava off of his face, "There.... just like your counseling sessions, yeah? The two of you sitting next to each other... talking about how he cheated on you," he chuckled.

Simon shot him a death glare, remaining silent as the man stood between the two of you. This was nothing new... Simon had gone through hell and back when he was captured by Roba years ago. He had been shot at plenty of times and taken many hits, bruises, and wounds since he joined the military. He wasn't about to give the fucking guy the satisfaction of saying anything.

You wanted to tell him to shut the fuck up. Regardless of what happened between you and Simon, it was none of his fucking business. But you also was so confused on how he knew so much about what you and your husband was going through..... it went beyond just the damn videos.

"But let's talk about how you cheated on him, shall we?" Jax continued as he looked at you with an evil smirk on his face.

Your eyes widened at him so big that he chuckled before glancing at Andrei. You weren't the only one shocked, though. Simon's body tensed at what Jax had said, eyebrows drawing together when he saw your reaction.

The TV that was next to the desk suddenly turned on, making everyone in the room glance in its direction as a video popped up on the screen. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you looked at yourself, straddling Andrei. Your muffled yells made Jax laugh, but you wanted to kill him.

Simon's eyes stayed glued to the screen as he watched you go from straddling Andrei to laying your back as he attached his mouth to you. The moans that escaped your lips made his heart stop; his mind going blank for a moment. To know that the same man who pulled those moans out of you was standing in the same room as him wasn't what pissed him off anymore.... it was the fact that he'd done it because this was all a game to them. Jax, Andrei, all of them. He honestly would have felt better if you had cheated on him with that guy from the club, even if it hurt him. At least you wouldn't have been fucking here, kidnapped.

The moment the video stopped, you locked eyes with Simon. Your puffy eyes made him internally broken, but his facial expression hadn't changed, and you didn't know if he was upset that you had gotten revenge for cheating on you... or if it was something else. You wanted to say that it meant nothing. That you were drunk and fucking mad at him... but you couldn't say shit with the tape still over your mouth.

"I have to say, she sounds.. so damn good. Doesn't she?" Jax teased as he asked everyone in the room. Even with Andrei not responding, since he was the one who had his tongue on you, Jax smiled at Simon like he had won or something, "How does it feel?" He walked and stood behind Simon as he leaned down so his face was almost next to his, looking at you, "Tell her." He demanded.

Simon's eyes never strayed away from yours as you continued to cry. The look on his face hadn't really changed, but his eyes told you exactly how he felt. The regret that ran through his soul.... he wished he could been a better man; a better husband. You didn't deserve any of this.. yet you stayed. You had wanted to work on your marriage even after the ugly truth came out. It was his fault, and he would forever kill himself over it. He would be grateful if you ever forgave him, promising to give you the entire world and more after he so much tore yours apart by cheating.

"I love you," he lowly said, making you cry even more. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart... for everythin'."

"Satisfying, isn't it?.. Finally realizing your mistakes?"

Simon finally tore his eyes away from you and looked at Jax, "Let her go."

He paused, acting as if he was thinking about something, "I thought about it," he teased, "but see... I can't do that. She's knows far too much... much more than our girl Williams," he joked - a terrible one that made both you and Simon shoot him the deadliest glare.

He raised his gun up, pointing it at you, making your eyes widen.

"Let her go, Jax," Simon raised his voice, "This is between me and you."

"Oh, it's not just me," he chuckled, "But I guess it would be easier to take you out first." He moved his gun to point it at Simon's temple.

You yelled through the tape and thrashed around as you tried to get out of the restraints. Your skin was probably raw at how much you rubbed at the ropes. You wanted to beg him not to shoot your husband.. you even tried to. But it was pointless.

"Say goodbye to your wife... Lieutenant."

Time felt like it slowed down as you and Simon looked at each other. He looked angry and sad, but no doubt love. He loved you for everything you had given him, everything you had done for him. And if this was the last time he'd see you... then so be it. He was ready... and you didn't want that. You weren't ready to leave him; to say goodbye.

The wails that came from your muffled lips had you choking on the saliva that bubbled up in your throat. You wanted to vomit so bad.

"Close your eyes love," Simon told you. You didn't want to. God you didn't want to. But you couldn't stomach the thought of seeing him die right in front of you, so you shut your eyes tight and waited for the loud popping sound of Jax's gun to go off.

I love you Simon, you muffled loud enough that you hoped he would understand you.

I was on the edge of my seat just writing this omg lol!

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Taglist: @kalypsoox @fruitymoonbeams-blogz @kylies-love-letter @xrosegoldwolfx @linaaaaa654 @jessicab1991 @darkravenqueen98 @yazyazali @thychuvaluswife @chloeforde @cownini @ssc7514

[yolli-es]

Please, I'm really sorry

Tags: NO spoilers for season 2, sadness, rude treatment, mentions of death

I doubt this is in character, so treat it as a silly sketch. Writing text is harder than headcanons..

MY ENGLISH IS BAD AND THERE MAY BE MEANING ERRORS

You adore Jinx; you love and tolerate her. Your acquaintance was unexpected, and your subsequent friendship was spontaneous. You were choking with tears after losing your mother when she found you. This girl saved you so easily, as if it were so easy. Jinx never told you about the past, but when the voices in her head became too loud, you didn't need an explanation. You saw how bad she becomes and what consequences it can bring. Afterwards, you promise yourself to always be there so that you can prevent the irreparable. This was not always successful.

After Silko died, things got really bad. Jinx tried to continue his work, to be strong and collected. But this is Jinx. Your Jinx. And she never was and never will be like this. Maybe that's why she's been so rude to you, taking it out on you because she's under so much stress. Sooner or later it will all end, and she will be able to look at you again without irritation.

You forgive Jinx for everything: the harsh words, the insults, the hits. Because she always apologizes after. And you don't care that it's not sincere at all. You love her; she is the only thing you have.

The day started out quite normally. You and Jinx were sitting in Silko's office, which is still called that way to this day, on the initiative of Jinx herself. It was all quite nice: she decided to share with you many thoughts about the future, which happened quite rarely. But then Sevika came in. And with her came terrible news. Shimmer production had been disrupted again. The enforcers blew up the plant, dealing with the guards there without any particular problems. And she just walked out after saying that. Just one look from Jinx made it clear how bad she was feeling right now,

"It's not your fault, and..." — you're interrupted by a rude "shut up." Jinx, who had been sitting on the table quite relaxed, now clutched her head, her eyes closed, and her breathing quickened. Just a few moments ago she was vulnerable, and now she's rude to you again. "You don't understand me at all," Jinx said in a breaking voice, hiding her face in her knees. It was painful to hear. We have been through a lot together. But she's worse off, and you step over yourself again: "I love you, Jinx. What do you want me to do?". You tell her this so often, so sincerely and naively. Her reaction to your words is always different; you can never guess, and now she again hits you: "I want you to stop being so useless and just help me." Jinx whispered, still struggling with her emotions. She hadn't let herself get angry, panicked, or sad that easily since Silko died. No tears. She kept herself under control. And is that what she thought all along? It's your fault; you're just doing a shitty job. Obviously, sitting here with her is not what she wanted. It looks so painful for you. The girl you love is suffering so much; why don't you just make it easier? That day you stayed, having endured many insults and a couple of blows.

Usually you stayed by Jinx's side, always supporting her and helping her with many tasks. For example, maintaining her authority in the city, keeping an eye out for possible rats nearby, and always saving your love from nervous breakdowns. But now you're by Sevika's side, at a shimmer production plant. You didn't tell Jinx anything; you didn't even think she would ask and worry. You need to act more decisively, as she wanted it. The task was simple: wait until the enforcers come here and destroy them. You were never a good fighter, just a decent shot. Your skills were enough to protect yourself on the streets of Zaun, but they were nothing against well-trained law enforcement officers. That's why you stayed on the sidelines, watching from above and covering Sevika.

You realized how much you screwed up with this shit when you found yourself in the middle of a shootout. Things didn't go according to plan when Sevika was shot, and now you had to save her. Letting the woman lean on you, you ran upstairs. The sounds of gunshots, explosions, and screams confirmed your fears: this plant is finished. Neither the shimmer nor the people were saved. Adrenaline was pumping through you, and you didn't notice anything except the cherished goal.

You reached a safe place and fell. The rest was like a dream. Sevika sat next to you, trying to close the open wound. She tied it with a rag, shouting something about the presence of shimmer nearby. The wound seems to be on your legs, chest, and head. It was painful and cold. Severe weakness. How the hell did enforcers get you? You couldn't think, let alone remember. This woman was shaking you, trying to make you think, but you had already given up. You had lost, and you had screwed up so badly, Jinx would never forgive you. Sevika shouted something, and you didn't really listen; you just couldn't. And then your gaze focused on a blue spot... Jinx? You wanted to look at her one last time. She may be disappointed in you, angry, or simply empty towards you, but all this will not matter as long as she is here. Your eyes closed for just a moment.

" ...orr..."—You can't see, only distantly hear. Such a nice sound; you've heard it before. The noise makes you open your eyes again. A flash of light disorientated you. Straining your eyes, you managed to make out a silhouette in front of you. It was Jinx, and... she was crying. She was in complete disarray, desperately holding your face. She bit her lips every time she wanted to swallow the lump in her throat and continue talking. She was talking to you. What was she saying? Your damn body is so weak. "Hold on, just breathe. Please, I'm really sorry. I love you, I love you, I love you...",-She repeated it over and over while you felt the shimmer being injected into your body. You wanted to calm her down, to say "I love you" back. And all you did was watch silently. Your eyelids were so heavy, and your body suddenly seemed too weightless. You were being yelled at, shaken, and pricked with a shimmer stabbed over and over. And you were too weak to respond to it, closing your eyes one last time.

Jinx sincerely apologizes this time. It's a pity that your mind was too weak to realize this.

it was short, unclear and stupid 🥴 Wrote this in a hurry while I'm taking a break from studying and writing other things.

[bluecollarmcandtf]

M O O N L I G H T ™

Chapter III

It's late, and the last thing I expect to find at my nightly workout is my little bro, dressed up like a personal trainer. He looks ridiculous in that cheesy uniform, not to mention the light pouring out of his skull and the smile stamped into his face! I guess the little idiot signed up for Moonlight™: that was one helluva mistake!

"Good evening, sir," my brother speaks as if we hadn't grown up together, "Is there any way I can aid your fitness journey tonight?"

Hearing Ryan call me 'sir' brings a devious grin to my own face. I've bullied this kid for years, and now he's kissing my ass like well-trained puppy. Thanks to Moonlight™, my annoying little bro is just a mind controlled employee who doesn't realize his brother's here, let alone embarrassing him! I wish I could get my entire family implanted with these little Moonlight™ things. Messing with them would be hilarious!

"Oh yeah," I sneer, "And what's string bean gonna do for a guy like me?"

"Well, sir, as a personal trainer here at Planet Fitness, I'll gladly demonstrate how to use the machines, spot patrons with heavy-lifting, and return equipment when finished."

God, he sounds even more annoying than usual! "You really think a someone like you could spot me?" I scoff and bring my bicep to his face, flexing it inches away from his perpetually open eyes.

"Actually, sir, this body can lift 260 lbs on the bench press without injury. The load you have is well-enough below to ensure that I may be of service. Still sir, the weight you're lifting is a very respectable amount," Ryan's smile beamed at me, but mine fell.

"Whatever, I'll be fine," I retort, "Just stand over there and mop up my sweat when I'm done."

"Yes, sir."

My little brother takes a step back as I get ready to lift. As stupid as he looks, standing there waiting on me to finish, he also looks pretty fit. His company polo might be sweaty and gross, but it's tight against his improving physique. He's clearly been lifting a lot while he's been working here, but his gains should not count if Moonlight™ is the one actually working out that pathetic little body! The only way he could bulk up was by becoming a fucking puppet! Talk about sad!

"Fuck!" I grunt, tossing the barbell back as I finish. I did a few extra sets to prove a point and now my arms are on fire. "Towel!" I snap.

"Yes, sir," Ryan rushes over and wipes the sweat off my brow. I just laugh in his face.

"I think I got some sweat on my sneakers too," I jab, "You can wipe them off and then put twenty more pounds on the bar."

"Of course, sir."

My brother gets on his knees with the towel, giving my sneakers a cursory buff. I don't know what personal trainer has shoe-shining in his job description, but I've heard these Moonlight™ employees can be pretty pliant. Apparently, you can make them do quite a bit with the loopholes in their programming. Maybe I can get Ryan here to do something even more embarrassing than polishing his big bro's shoes!

The next week, I worked out every night.

Turns out, bullying my little bro was great motivation to go to the gym! When I saw him during the day, I never mentioned the fact that I knew; didn't want to scare him off. At night, I had every opportunity to take out my frustrations on him. If he pissed me off during the day, I could boss him around at the gym, ordering him to follow me around and wipe down every piece of equipment. I could call him whatever names I wanted and yell at him as loudly as I pleased; he had to just stand there with the best customer service smile and say "yes, sir."

Playing around with Ryan was fun, but it wasn't until I went out for a drink that I ran into my second brother. I guess he had the same idea to get hired with Moonlight™...

"Can I fix you a drink, sir?" my brother, the middle child, yells over the club's EDM.

"What the hell?" I shout, "Ryan's dumb enough to Moonlight™, but I didn't think you were!"

Sam just stares back with the same flashlight eyes and widely stretched lips. Of course his programming won't let him do anything outside of bartending! He's probably not even conscious in there! Ryan was always a bit of an impulsive twerp, so I wasn't surprised to see him Moonlighting™, but Sam is different. He'd said he'd never put his body to work at night. Something about the behavior of Moonlighters™ always rubbed him the wrong way...I guess he changed his mind.

"A round of beers," I tell him, warily gesturing to the back corner, "For me and our crew."

Sam's glowing stare looks over my shoulder and sees our friends, the guys we both hang out with, "Yes, sir. I'll have it right out for you."

I return to our pals, anxious for my brother to follow. Sam is only a year younger than myself, so we run around with the same crowd, yet he didn't recognize any of our buds. Now he's about to serve them like a fucking waiter. My catatonic brother is about to walk into the most humiliating situation of his life. I just get to sit back and watch!

"Sam?" one of them asks a moment later.

"Here are your beers, sir," my brother plucks the bottles off his tray and sets them out for each of his friends, completely oblivious to their stunned reactions, "Is there anything else I can get any of you?"

"Holy crap, dude!" another pal turns to me, "Since when did your brother start Moonlight? He looks like a total idiot!"

Sam doesn't seem to register the insult.

"I don't know man," I laugh, "Tonight, I guess."

"Fetch us some napkins," one guy quips with an amused flick of his hand.

"Right away, sir." Sam answers a little too promptly, and whisks away.

"Right away, sir, Ha!" the guy repeats with a mock salute, "We've gotta mess with him!"

Sam returns, obediently passing out napkins, but I'm finding it harder to meet his gaze while he's grinning so manically. This situation is starting to feel more awkward than hilarious. These guys will never let him live this down!

"Sam, get over here and give this paying customer a sloppy BJ!"

My brother stiffens, and for a second a jolt of fear runs down my spine, terrified that Moonlight™ will actually make him comply. Pranks are all good and fun, but I do not want to see my brother about to blow another dude!

"I apologize, sir," he finally resumes, "That is not part of my responsibilities as bartender."

Thank God.

"Then get something to clean this up," he laughs wildly, "You spilled my beer!" Our friend then pours half his drink on the crotch of his jeans, staring at Sam with the amused eyes of a drunk fool. This guy always gets weird after a few drinks. I don't know why we still bring him along. Normally, we just ignore him.

"Of course, sir," Sam answers attentively.

For the next ten minutes, I sit in silent horror as my brother returns with a rag, proceeding to get on his knees and wipe down another man's crotch with painful dedication. Of course, our friends are all howling with laughter at this point, taking video evidence that they can embarrass Sam with later.

It feels like a lifetime, but Sam finally stands up, "I hope I cleaned that up well enough for you, sir."

The guy feels at his wet jeans, saying, "I don't know if that's good enough, bitch."

"I'm sorry, sir, let me try ag-"

"No! It's my turn," someone else cuts in, pushing his way to the front, "You spilled some on my ass that needs cleaned up!"

The gang loses it, doubling over with laughter as Sam prepares to spend the next ten minutes wiping down another guy's ass, but I've had enough, "No! We're done here, thank you. Go close our tab," I bark.

"Yes, sir," Sam turns on his heel. His dumb obedience is more disturbing than entertaining at this point.

Our friends all give me a hard time for sending him away, but I'm not having it. Maybe I'm not drunk enough, but they're enjoying this a lot more than I am. At this point, I'm ready to call it a night and go home, so I say my goodbyes and head for the exit.

The walk home isn't a far one, but I pass a few notable places on the way: one being my dad's dark office building. Our old man has been working late nights there lately. In the dimly lit lobby, I recognize someone...

"Dad?" I gasp.

"Good evening, sir," my father says to me without any note of familiarity in his voice.

"Wait, you're moonlighting too?" it comes out as more of an accusation, but at this point I'm fed up with finding family members secretly working random mind-controlled night jobs.

"I am a security guard employed through the Moonlight™ corporation," his gravelly voice sounds foreign, delivering these programmed prompts, "If you'd like, sir, I can help you apply for a Moonlight™ position, and you can start making the most of your sleeping hours too!"

"Why the fuck did you think this was a good idea, dad?" I ask, knowing this stupid security guard persona isn't capable of answering.

"He didn't."

The voice of someone else in the room sends shivers down my spine. I whip around, and see a gangly, middle-aged man stepping forward.

"Jeff?"

"Hi, Jamie," my uncle says, sauntering up to his far taller brother and resting an arm on his shoulder. My dad's attentive posture doesn't waver. He just keeps on acting like the perfect sentry for the building and the perfect armrest for his brother.

"Do you mind telling me what's going on!?"

He sniffles and sighs like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar, "Yes, I suppose this charade of mine was doomed to be found out sooner or later. I put your father in the Moonlight™ database. He was just wasting his sleeping hours at home in his bed, and he'd always refuse to let me sign him up, so I did it in secret. He makes a great guard. Right Tom?"

Uncle Jeff claps my dad on the back, prompting him to announce a proud, "Yes, sir!"

"See," my uncle turns back to me, "No harm done. Your old man gets paid to stand around in his sleep. Its harmless!"

"But he doesn't know!" I yell, seething at my uncle's sheer abuse of his place in the company, "This has to be illegal, and are you just pocketing Dad, Ryan, and Sam's salaries?"

He rolls his eyes, "I am right now, but the four of you don't even make that much."

"Did you just say the four of us?" I grunt.

"Oops," he holds a hand to his forehead and curses under his breath.

"AM I FUCKING MOONLIGHTING WHILE I SLEEP TOO?" I am screaming at this point, "You're fucked up!" I bark. Angrily, I stomp towards my uncle, but my father takes a firm step planting himself between me and the man. His steady palm is holding the baton at his belt, making me nervous. Is my dad about to beat me up for this creep?

"Excuse me, sir," my dad smiles at my uncle, "Would you like me to escort this man out of the building?"

"That won't be necessary," my uncle says, "I'll just trigger his Moonlight™ shift to start now. You can go back to standing in the corner"

"Yes, sir," my security guard father answers placidly, returning to his attentive stance.

"You wouldn't," I snarl.

"Oh, trust me, I will. As I understand it, overriding a subject's body while awake means you'll be fully conscious. I'll work on something to make you forget this whole incident later."

He presses a few buttons on an ipad, and suddenly my vision is engulfed in a purple haze. My back straightens, my muscles relax, and I feel my face contorts into a giant smile. Suddenly, my entire body seems to be gone from my grasp, and I'm constrained to a tiny space in my head while something else takes over.

"Enjoy your shift," my uncle snickers with a glare.

"Thank you, sir. I will," I feel my voice pushed out of my throat with an excited tone that isn't mine. Before I know it, my legs are carrying me away from my uncle, leaving him with my father, to march down the dark street...

"Here's your order, sir," my voice has the trademarked Moonlight™ eagerness in it as I reach out the window and hand over the meal.

"Fuck off, sleep-freak!" the teen in the driver's seat flips me off, making his immature friends cackle as they speed off. I can't do anything but smile and watch as they weave away. They have no idea I'm actually conscious in here.

After being forced to leave my uncle, I found myself striding into a fast food restaurant through its backdoor. I could instantly tell the place wasnt anywhere I'd eat at because the dumpster smelled like soggy fries and old meat. The kitchen was a fluorescent-lit pit, with a thick feeling of oil hanging in the air. I could barely take in the surroundings before I was changing out of my clothes by some lockers. I was horrified that Moonlight™ was making me fucking strip, but before long my hands were pulling on new clothes: a uniform. The polo felt like it'd been sitting at the bottom of the locker since the last shift, drying in sweat, and the pants were sticky with something unidentifiable. I was mortified to be pulling on a fucking hairnet and apron, but I had no choice.

"Blondie's here early," a smoker's voice purred from behind me. I had a bad feeling he'd been standing there for a while, watching.

"Hello boss," my voice answers, apparently recognizing the overweight, unshaved creep, "I'm ready to start my shift, sir! Where am I needed today?"

I watched as the man licked his stubbly lips, his beady eyes crawling all over me. Without any shame, his sweaty palm groped the growing bulge in his khakis. He was obviously happy to see me, and he probably thought I couldn't actually see him! I guess, every fucking night that my uncle's made me work in my sleep, I've been under the supervision of THIS pervert!?

"Get to the fryer," his scratchy throat moaned, "You know I want you to get nice and sweaty for later."

"Yes, sir. I'll be sure to work up a sweat for you," I answer, confused and disturbed by my response. The cheer in my voice did not match the overwhelming gloom I felt when the man slapped my ass. His hand lingered on my rear for too long, but I couldn't even frown.

Since then, I've been boiling fries and flipping burgers. Every so often I have to hand an order out the window, but my heart races every time I do. Three orders ago, the customer threw their soda back at my coworker, he's a fairly average guy in his thirties, and he was dowsed in Coca-Cola. It didn't keep Moonlight™'s programming from working: he just kept manning the grill, smiling, eyes glowing, and hair dripping with cherry flavored juice.

"Ouch!" at least, that's what I want to say. The oil sizzles and pops, and a few drops of hot grease splatter onto my arm, but I don’t flinch. The control won’t let me.

Suddenly I feel someone leaning in behind me. My spine shivers as my manager says, "It's closing time, Blondie. I'll send everyone home so you and I can clean up like usual." He whispers it in my ear, with his flabby arms wrapped around me like we're fucking lovers! I wish I could vomit!

"Sounds good, boss," I find myself saying.

One by one, the manager dismisses each of my moonlighting coworkers. I can't help but feel jealous as they strip out of their uniforms by the door. It isn't just that they get to leave; they also have the luxury of not knowing what's going on. They're all asleep. I'd give anything to at least be unaware of whatever this fucking pervert is about to do!

My body is preoccupied with whatever shit needs to be done for closing, wiping down the tables, taking out the trash, and more.

"Mop time," the manager suddenly announces, holding the raggedy thing out expectantly.

"Yes, sir," my voice answers, and I drop what I'm doing to accept the mop. The crotch of his pants is unzipped, but my bodies already turned away from him, turning all my attention to swab the tiles floor.

"You're doing it wrong again, Blondie," he purrs slowly, "I'm gonna have to help you like usual."

"Thank you, sir," my voice sounds grateful, but I am anything but. The pervert presses his rotund body against my back and holds my muscular arms with his own chubby ones. I can feel his penis poking into me below his gut, but my body accepts his touch like he's just a boss helping out an employee.

I guess this asshole found a loophole in Moonlight™'s fucking programming. He's going to touch me all he wants under the guise of demonstrating the right way to mop.

The creep spends the next ten minutes guiding my arms back and forth. "Fuck, you're bubble butt feels even better than usual, Blondie," he breathes in my ear. If I had control of my muscles, he wouldn't stand a chance, but right now, they're putty in my boss's arms. Meanwhile, his waist gets busy dry humping his chode into my rear end. "I'm so glad a jock like you was dumb enough to try Moonlight!" he grunts, his tongue dangerously close to my ear. I can only thank God that he can't take my pants off! After several painful minutes of him spitting more disgusting comments onto my cheek, his arms drop mine and plant themselves on my chest. His hands sloppily grope my pecs and pinch my nipples. I've never felt more pathetic. The man makes one final exclamation, "FUUUCK!" and I can tell he has finally gotten off.

"Thanks for the help, boss," I find myself saying.

With heavy breaths, he staggers back. The sudden open air on my back makes me realize just how hot and sweaty that slob was, and I can feel the slimy remnants of his balls slipping down my back and legs.

"Good job as always, Blondie," he breathes heavily with satisfaction.

"Thank you, sir," I answer. My voice hasn't lost its awful chipper quality, and my face is still stuck in a smile like I hadn't just been taken advantage of.

"Finish mopping up, and then you can lock up and clock out," he winks as if we shared some inside joke. I hate that all he sees is my smile.

"Yes, sir," I answer, but the creep has already waddled out of the building and slammed the door shut.

The sudden silence is unbearable. It makes the monotonous task of mopping the sticky floors all the more unpleasant. What's worse is that I can't pause to wash the manager's cum off my back. It soaks into my pants as I work, trapped in my own body. At least I know why these pants are so sticky. Honestly, I hope Uncle Jeff will wipe my memory...

[nebulousbrainsoup]

romantically

SUMMARY: After your most recent subpar date, you're ready to swear off dating altogether. So, it seems, is your roommate. When you throw out a half-joking suggestion, the afternoon takes a surprising turn for the better. PAIRING: Han Jisung x gn!reader GENRE: fluff, little bit of angst bc i'm me AU/TROPE: roommates au, idiots to lovers, impulse marriage WORD COUNT: 824 TAGS/WARNINGS: not beta read RATING: G A/N: for the @cultofdionysusnet summer event, see u on the flip side! i wasn't planning on writing for this originally, but on advice from the lovely @sanjoongie, i decided there was no better way to usher in my tenure as an admin of the beautiful network she created. it's an absolute honor to be trusted with this. i have big shoes to fill <3 banners as always by my love @kwanisms masterlist | join my taglist | buy me a coffee?

You were a flurry of wrath and frustration as you burst through the door of your apartment. From his place on the couch, your roommate jumped, turning around to look at you with wide eyes.

“Didn’t go well, I take it?” Jisung questioned, a sad, understanding smile on his face.

You didn’t answer with words, instead tossing your keys onto the entryway table and kicking off your shoes, flopping next to your best friend with a drawn-out groan. He sighed heavily in solidarity, reaching out to offer you the bowl of M&Ms in his lap. You took a handful, grateful to have something sweet to begin to take your mind off of the nightmare of a date you’d just endured. 

“They wouldn’t shut up about themself,” you began, and Jisung’s nose crinkled in disgust as he reached forward for the remote, pausing the show he’d been binging before your dramatic entrance. You curled into his side as he settled back into the cushions, the bowl of chocolate slowly emptying between the two of you. “They showed up in flip flops.”

At this, Han recoiled far enough to fix you with his disgusted look head on. You nodded solemnly. “Ugh, I know it was a lunch date, but come on. You picked that nicer ramen joint up the street, right? The one we tried last week?”

“Yep,” you sighed, dropping your head back on his shoulder. “And if that wasn’t enough, they were absolutely foul to the waitstaff.” 

Jisung groaned this time, throwing his head back against the couch. “Why can’t either of us find a single good date?!”

“Maybe we’re cursed,” you offered, sighing dejectedly. “Yours didn’t go well either?”

He shook his head. “They spent the entire time texting their ex. Even asked me for my opinion on a few of the responses.” 

It was your turn to turn your nose up. “Tacky. Was the coffee at least good?”

Han shrugged, making a non-committal noise. “Not worth the price.”

You hummed, nodding your understanding, and fell into an amicable silence. It wasn’t long before the bowl between you was empty, and your roommate let out a dejected sigh as he pushed himself up to refill it.

“What if we just marry each other instead?” You mused, eyes glued to the ceiling. In the kitchen, a loud clatter rang out, and you peeked over your shoulder, concerned. “Sungie?”

“‘M fine!” He squeaked, and you frowned just slightly, bile rising in your throat as a piece of your heart shattered. 

“If you find me that repulsive, just say so,” you called, “don’t take it out on the dishes!” Swallowing down your shame, you reached for your favorite blanket, wrapping it around yourself as a small form of comfort. You regretted the half-joking offer already, your ever-present crush on your roommate sharpening the sting of what you were sure would be his rejection.

He came back into view looking a little disheveled, hair fluffed up like he’d run his hands through it and cheeks tinted pink. The pout he wore made for a visual combination you couldn’t help but giggle at.

“I do not find you repulsive. You’re one of the sweetest humans on this planet and I won’t stand for you talking about yourself like that.” 

It was your turn to flush, his earnest expression making your heart skip a beat or two. You gaped at him for a moment, floundering for words.

“Are you serious about getting married?”

You nearly shook your head, taking the offer back with one simple motion, but the guilt of lying to the man you loved stopped you. Instead, you shrugged. “K-Kind of?” you replied, voice small.

He sighed, running a hand over his face, and you thought you saw his flush deepen. “I would love to marry you,” he admitted, and your heart soared. Why did he sound so pained? “But I can’t. It wouldn’t be fair, knowing how selfish of a thing it would be.”

You frowned. “What do you mean? It would benefit us both, right? No dying alone.” 

“Yeah, but… I can’t marry someone who doesn’t love me back. Romantically, I mean. I know you love me as a best friend but—” 

You felt the moment your brain processed his words, short-circuiting and forcing you into silence. When you came back to yourself, he was still rambling, and you registered nothing before you were surging off the couch to connect your lips and shut him up. 

He was even more flustered when you pulled back, eyes wide. “I love you too, Jisung. Romantically.”

“Is this a dream?” 

You barked a laugh as you shook your head, leaning in to kiss him once more. This time, he returned it, wrapping his arms around you. “Not a dream.”

He grinned at you as you parted, nodding. “Think the courts are still open?” 

You mirrored his expression. “Only one way to find out.”

“Let’s go get married.”

TAGLIST: @justhere4kpop @tastymintchocolate @tattywood @purrplegyuu @buzzkillem

@kibs-and-bits

© September 2024 nebulousbrainsoup | all rights reserved. reposting and translating of author’s work is prohibited.

[zorrasucia]

look at how well you take me. even though it's been so long.

for carmy x reader PLEASE

Hello Anon! 💜

Gladly! I wrote this as a loose sequel to this, though it's only relevant in that Reader is Chef Terry's goddaughter and they met back in Copenhagen. I hope you like it! 😊

Carmy burst through the door of your hiding spot, making you jump in shock.

"Fuck!" he cursed. "Sorry, thought this was empty."

He was about to leave without even looking at you and you reached for him.

"Carmy?" you held his wrist.

He finally saw your face. "Oh, my God!" he exclaimed and immediately enveloped you in a tight hug.

You hadn't seen each other in literal years but even so, his hold felt a little too intense and desperate.

"You okay?" you whispered.

"Um, I don't- I don't know," his voice broke and you could hear the tears he was holding back.

"It's okay, Carm," you squeezed him, putting more of your weight into the hug. "I'm right here."

You stayed there, running your fingers soothingly on his shoulders and the nape of his neck.

He sniffled. "You're here," he repeated. After a pause he mumbled: "Why are you here?"

"I came for the funeral," you replied quietly. You thought it would be obvious, given that you were both inside the cloakroom of Aunt Terry's restaurant but Carmy seemed very disoriented. "I couldn't miss it. It's Ever."

"It's Ever," Carmy hummed in agreement. "Uh, I meant what are you doing here in the cloakroom."

"I'm not made for networking," you sighed. "I needed a break. And, well, I don't smoke - so the cloakroom seemed a good idea."

"I'm trying to quit smoking. Maybe you're right and this is a good spot," he said gently.

He took a step back, a little more collected, even if his eyes still looked teary in the halflit room.

You smiled. "It's good to see you, Carm. I thought you were still in New York," you said and it felt a little too formal for the way you were holding each other just seconds ago.

"No, I've been, uh, been in Chicago the last few months... Two years now, shit..." it seemed like he was realizing it just as he was saying it.

"Is it nice? Being home?" you asked, tilting your head, studying his reaction.

"Uh, sure, yeah. I opened a restaurant that might close next week if we don't get a good review but, uh, you know," he said flatly.

You reached for his hand and rubbed his knuckles.

"Is that why you're upset?"

"Huh?" he furrowed his eyebrows.

"Just now? Like I get how it would be upsetting to attend a funeral when your own restaurant might-" you explained your reasoning.

"Oh! No, it's not-" he squeezed his eyes shut. "I, uh, ran into my asshole boss. From New York. He's- He messed me up real bad," he was still avoiding your gaze but he let you cup his face, comforting him. "So I, I confronted him and he, uh, he thinks he did me a favor. Like, shit, I knew he was a fucking psychopath but he doesn't even care. He doesn't-"

His voice broke again and you brought him back into your arms, his face tucked to the side of your neck, tears wetting your skin.

"It's okay. You're okay," you caressed his hair. "I'm right here, Carmy."

He nodded, unable to speak for a while. He squeezed you, his nose buried deep in the crook of your neck, breathing you in.

"Fuck, I've missed you."

"Missed you too," you soothed.

Slowly, his head turned and he started leaving kisses up the side of your neck, to your jaw, the side of your face, the corner of your mouth...

"This okay?" he asked, tracing the same sensual path on the other side of your neck.

"You're not thinking straight, Carm," you hummed, not making any effort to move away from his reach, carding your hands through his hair and bringing him closer instead. "You're angry. And sad."

It was so easy to forget that a few years had passed and this wasn't the Carmy you knew and cared for back in Copenhagen, not anymore.

"I'm tired of fucking thinking," he slurred, running his hands over your sides hungrily. "I want things to go quiet just for a while."

You melted, his hands breaking down whatever small resolve you had.

"Okay," you agreed, dragging him by the neck to press your lips against his.

Carmy gave you desperate kisses as he cornered you against the wall. He cupped your breasts over your dress, humming appreciatively at the low neckline.

"You look so fucking nice," he growled.

His left hand bunched up the side of your dress, trying to caress your leg. You giggled.

"Don't remember you being ticklish" he remarked, cocking his head.

"I'm not," you guided his right hand up your opposite thigh, to the high slit of your dress, giving him plenty of access without bunching up the dress.

"Fuck," Carmy groaned, his calloused hands quickly finding the edge of your lace panties. "Can I -?"

You nodded eagerly, taking his hand and looking at the new tattoos that adorned his skin.

"Please. I need your fingers," you whined.

Carmy didn't make you wait, pushing your underwear down your legs, caressing your pussy, already wet for him. He kissed your collarbone and the tops of your breasts while tracing lines between your folds, a low squelching sound coming from underneath your dress as he inserted two digits at once.

"Shit."

"My clit," you begged, angling your hips so his thumb pressed the exact spot.

He started moving, a quick and unforgiving rhythm making you melt in his arms, rolling your hips and moaning, holding tight to his shoulders to stand upright.

"Close?" he rasped.

"So fucking close."

"Will you let me fuck you against the wall after you cum?" he asked low.

It was like he flipped a switch and suddenly your pussy was fluttering around his fingers. He covered your mouth with his free hand, muffling your cries of pleasure.

"Fuck, Carmy," you panted, holding the wall for support while he unbuckled his belt.

"Shit," he stopped in his tracks and started going through the coats and jackets that were hanging on the opposite wall.

"Carm? What are you doing?"

"Just a sec," he mumbled. Once he found an informal leather jacket, he started going through its many pockets. "Come on, Richie," he whispered, then smiled in triumph as he took out a condom from the inside pocket.

"Should I ask?" you grinned, entertained watching Carmy unbutton his trousers, pump himself and roll the condom on.

"Better not," he stood in front of you, one of your arms rounded his shoulders, your free hand held his cock.

"You've always been a handful," you said - the flirtatious play on words taking you back years ago, to Copenhagen, and the first time he fucked you.

"Hmm," he closed his eyes in pleasure, completely at your mercy as you lined him up to your pussy.

He pushed lightly, an inch, then another. You whined at the stretch. "You okay?"

"It's good, so good," you managed, holding on to his shoulders, "just go slow."

Carmy nodded, the gentle movement of his hips like the swaying boat where you so often had shared a bed. You were letting out needy sounds and muffling them into your hand, as he got deeper and deeper. You encouraged him, bringing him closer by squeezing his ass, scratching at his pale skin until he was buried inside you to the hilt.

"Carm..."

He stayed still for a moment, kissing you tenderly.

"Need this," he mumbled against your lips. "Need you."

"Yeah?" you teased, circling your hips, making him moan. "How much?"

"A lot," he said, hips moving backwards slowly, his cock almost all the way out. Then, he drove back into you, quick, hard. You bit your lip to silence a high pitched moan. "A lot - a lot."

He grabbed your thighs, pressing you against the wall, lifting you.

"Fast and hard?" you suggested. You usually liked to take your time but fucking inside a closet - albeit a fancy one - asked for practicality and speed. And Carmy needed to blow off some steam.

He nodded, speechless as he started building a quick pace, driving into you like his life depended on it. You held him close, resorting to bite on the shoulder pad of his suit jacket to stay quiet.

"Wait," Carmy moved slightly, enough to press his forehead to yours and look down, hypnotized by the way his cock disappeared inside your pussy. Carmy's eyes widened, pupils blown and mouth half open. "Look at how well you take me. Even though it's been so long," he mumbled and you knew deep inside that it wasn't a line. He was truly dazed and euphoric that this was happening.

"Carm," you pleaded. "Let go for me, baby. I know you need it."

He squeezed his eyes shut. "Mhmm," he agreed, panting. "'m close."

You squeezed your pussy around his cock, watching with satisfaction as that simple effort made him lose control, rutting messily, soft grunts leaving his lips as he came hard.

"Shit," he cursed, his lips on the side of your face.

You exhaled, content, as he let you down, landing on one foot then the other. Your heels were on the floor, somewhere, lost while your legs shook around Carmy's waist. "Better? Stopped thinking for a bit?" you inquired a little cockily.

"Not sure where we are right now, to be honest," he drawled.

"Good."

[fartistt]

MAKE YOU MINE!

would you take someone else's hand if you had the chance?

fem reader

warning(s): fanon personality, fanon name, i'm writing this fic literally hours after the video dropped we deadass know nothing about this guy -🍝

if you enjoyed reading this fic, please consider donating to providing aid in palestine!

skelly, as much as he hates to admit it, has to come face-to-face with the fact that his little pumpkin patch has developed a bit of a trespasser issue. normally he wouldn’t mind—after all, what kind of pumpkin king would he be if he weren’t to share the spoils and wonders of his humble kingdom with the rest of his people—if it weren’t for the fact that whoever kept romping about his lovely abode wasn’t like the other pumpkin patch visitors.

see, skelly considers himself to be a gracious host. he is the pumpkin king, and the duty of any good ruler is to ensure that everyone within the gates, or in his case: sprawling fence, of his kingdom is enveloped in joy thanks to his wise governing. be they the resident mice or a lost passerby, his responsibility is to make sure they all leave with a wide grin. macabre perhaps, but his best dealings are in sparking happiness through the morbid. 

but you.

each time you come to his pumpkin patch, you come ready to burst into tears. your eyes are watery and glossy, vision undoubtedly blurry as you stumble over the pumpkins through the pitch black dark of the night. the first few times you’d come to the safe haven of his pumpkin kingdom to sniffle your eyes out, he ignored it. he figured you came here after something sad to cheer yourself up and would want space more than the consolation of a pale, creepy lonesome man, but once it becomes a semi-routinely occurrence, he makes the sage decision that now your issues have fallen under his jurisdiction.

isn’t he such a benevolent ruler? he knows it’s wrong to find excitement in someone’s despair, but he can hardly remember the last time he’s had a proper, breathing human visitor. it’s like fate, like destiny itself has drawn you from whatever it is causing you this much sadness and into the soothing comfort of his soon-to-be embraces.

“don’t you worry ‘bout a thing, sweet darling. i’ll be right there,” he hums to no one in particular when the quiet sounds of your clumsy footsteps alert him to your reentrance into his pumpkin patch. he thinks that he looks rather dapper, dressed to the nines in his finest tattered suit and pulling on a matching pair of gloves decorated with bone motifs. “your dearest king is but your humble servant. soon enough, i shall turn that melancholy of yours into unabated joy for none other than me. a far better outcome than whatever is ailing you, don’t you agree?”

there’s no one to respond to him, but he still stretches his dry lips into a satisfied smile. the final touch is his trusty pair of dark sunglasses. a good king never shows his true emotions even during the simplest of diplomatic journeys. that, and he doesn’t want to scare you with his bright orange eyes from the get-go.

it doesn’t take him long to find you. you’re planted in the heart of the pumpkin patch, ensconced and hidden away in the comfort of the long shadows of the night, hunched over and wiping futilely at your eyes while big fat tears drip over your waterline. the sight of you crying makes skelly’s heart wrench inside of his chest. what in the world could possibly make such a sweet creature like you cry like this?

he clears his throat. he’s a gentleman, and he doesn’t want to scare away his lone guest. “my dear… what’s troubling you?”

his voice is soft and careful, but it still makes you gasp and jerk away reflexively. he doesn’t blame you: the last thing you’re expecting during your nightly trips to what you probably assumed was an abandoned pumpkin patch would be a tall, lanky man hovering over you while you cried. he stays in his place and holds his hands up in mock surrender as if to signal to you that he has no foul intentions.

you wipe at your eyes and peer up at him through your clumped lashes, the serene moonlight bouncing off of your wet cheeks. your voice wavers and cracks, “who… who are you?”

“oh! i’m so sorry,” he gasps, placing a hand over his heart. “where are my manners? you may call me skelly. i’m the ruler of this quaint pumpkin patch, so to say. some even call me the pumpkin king. a bit pompous, if i do say so myself. i’d say that maybe you’ve heard of me, but given how surprised you are… i’d wager that you haven’t.”

he flashes you an innocent smile. you know the smart thing would be to run and never look back, but when he squats down so that he’s eye level with you, some part of you can’t bring yourself to muster the strength to flee. you’re already this miserable, what’s the use in trying to wade off an inevitable end?

“so what brings you here? this isn’t the first time i’ve heard you sobbing your heart out. it makes me rather upset to see you this distraught. i’ll lend you an ear, so tell me your troubles.” you can make out the slight glint of his eyes past the dark lenses of his glasses. “maybe i can help you out.”

you bite the inside of your cheeks. your mind is frankly too frazzled to think things through too thoroughly, but you still know better than to spill your deepest darkest secrets to some stranger that crept up on you in the dead of the night in the middle of nowhere. but at the same time, you’re only here because you’re at your wit’s end with nobody to turn to, and a chance encounter like this with a seemingly benevolent being might be your last straw to grasp at desperately.

you suck in a nervous breath. “it’s… it’s silly, really. nothing that the- uh- pumpkin king needs to concern himself over. i’m being dramatic.”

his dry lips twist into a frown as he peers at you. “i doubt it’s anything silly if it’s enough to make you cry like this. you can tell me everything. i promise it. take a chance on me, why don’t you?”

you gaze up at him. his white skin, the strands of his snow white hair, the outline of his body, the silhouette of dark suit and all of the pale ribbons cascading from his chest all seem to glow under the illumination of the night. every part of his man, from his painted smiles to his practiced words, are too good to be true. it makes him look almost deceptively angelic, poised perfectly so that you have no choice but to hand over yourself to him. you should know better than to gamble on something that’s not guaranteed, but you’ve chosen security before only to be stabbed in the back mercilessly.

you swallow back whatever fear bubbles up from the depths of your heart. 

“um… i go to a school nearby. night raven college. it’s an all boys school. maybe you’ve heard of it,” the words tumble from your lips clumsily. your heart thunders inside of your chest. “i’m from… somewhere really far away. i can guarantee you haven’t heard of it. no one ever has. the headmaster promised me that he’d help me go home in time, but it’s been so long without any progress. i’m starting to think i’ll never go home.”

you sniffle and hang your head, wanting to bury your face back in your arms. you mumble under your breath, “and… i don’t want to speak badly of anyone… but i’m sick of the students at the school too. they’re all mean and selfish, and i’m just tired. i’m tired, skelly.”

something in his unmoving dead heart stirs slightly when you sigh out his name. he reaches over and places a soothing hand on your shoulder, and a shudder creeps down your spine when you feel just how cold his body is even through the layers of his gloves. it’s like ice against your skin, the grips of frost tracing your body.

“homesickness, is it? i don’t think your sadness is silly at all. it must have hurt you so badly to have to endure everything in such an unwelcoming place. poor thing,” he coos. “no wonder you come here so often. you must have suffered so much if you preferred being alone like this over spending another night in that awful school… if only i knew sooner! i would have done so much  more to make you feel welcome.”

you shake your head. “it’s not your fault. i was the one who was too trusting from the beginning. i… i should have never taken the headmaster’s hand through the mirror.”

you feel pitiful under his gaze, but at the same time, you can’t help but feel a knot deep inside of you loosen slightly at his honeyed words. it’s childish, to want to be pitied and cared for, but simultaneously, this was the bare minimum of everything you wanted. all you had asked was for a place to make your own while you waited for a way to return home, and even that much was too much to ask for from the incompetent schoolmaster and his equally intolerable students.

skelly smoothes down the fabric of your clothes on your shoulder, each stroke of his long fingers like the unforgiving touch of winter. it’s like he’s trying to comfort you, but you fight off the urge to shiver under his hand. 

“say…,” he starts after a pause of silence, “i know a pumpkin patch is a far cry from the amenities of a school, but if you don’t want to go back… you don’t have to. i know it’s sudden, and you surely don’t have to give me an answer right away if you don’t want to. but what if you were to stay here with me?”

you freeze. you blink slowly, twisting your head so that you’re looking at skelly again. he offers you a placid grin, shrugging his shoulders slightly. 

“stay here…?” you mumble. “with you?”

“precisely, my dear. i’ve been growing quite lonely all by myself too. i think we have a perfect deal! a pumpkin queen to a pumpkin king,” his words take on a more lively note. your stomach churns, and skelly claps his hands together. “i would never mistreat you the way those silly boys do. i’m a gentleman, first and foremost. i’ll make you feel at home right away. you won’t even have the time to miss that school and all of the misery it's put you through.”

temptation. you wish you were smarter. more resilient. more grounded to know better than to be swayed by the offer of a total stranger. but you’re at your rope’s end, and anything sounds better than the gilded cage that night raven college has become to you. would it be so bad to take a chance elsewhere? to follow a man who solemnly swears that you can put all of your suffering behind you if you only have the faith to look towards him without any regrets or doubts?

as if he can read your mind, skelly stands up and turns back towards you. he crouches down slightly, dipping forward into a subtle bow, and he holds out a gloved hand towards you.

this scene is all too familiar to you. it harkens you back to the first night you landed in this universe, everything warped and unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. the all knowing moon, the darkness threatening to swallow you whole, a dark robed stranger with promises of salvation dripping from their lips, and a chance to take back some semblance of control of your life that’s jumped from your reach. instead of a mirror, your reflection stares back at you with a lifelessness from the wide glass lenses hiding skelly’s eyes. 

it’s like you never learn, and a sense of foreboding washes over you as the pumpkin king’s disarming smile widens.

a hand extended to you. a hand taken.

this time around, you hope you’ve chosen correctly.

x

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[bianca-mii]

One of the most iconic kisses between our guitarists from the 2022 tour. I can't write as beautifully as @woodswallow, but I made this gifset as I thought there is a very interesting thing to point out.

The Auslaender outro started almost as usual, with Richard feeling the music probably somewhat more.

But this moment shows one massive difference from arguably every other Auslaender's kiss: Richard is not smiling. He's not focused on seducing Paul with that evil grin. There's no tension, no predatory stare. He is... sad? He looks Paul in the eye, and while Paul is in that playful-teasing-I'm-not-that-easy-to-get mode of his, in which he rather avoids eye contact with Richard, he must realize something is off with the lead guitarist...

But they both go for the kiss. In the beginning, I thought maybe Richard was sad, at least partially, because during some of the 2022 shows Paul seemingly didn't feel like having that little smooch. From what I've read, Paul is very uncomfortable with PDA and, in general, tries to keep his private life as far from the public eye as possible. 2019 kisses were fun and outrageous, which Paul loves, and also had a political impact. But by the half of the 2022 tour, it was obvious nobody cared about any political impact anymore and the guitarists kissed just because they like it. Richard doesn't care if people are watching, he may even like it better that way, so perhaps he couldn't entirely understand Paul's hesitation. Also, on the previous show, still in Europe, their kiss was very quick, too quick for Richard's liking:

He made that gesture with his mouth as if he wanted to say: "Ahh, it ended before I could even taste it!" On which Paul said something, maybe like: "I've told you already: quick pecks - for the audience, the actual kisses - only you and me, no witnesses..." And Richard was like: "Oh, okay, but a boy can dream, can't he?"

Going back to Chicago's kiss: so it's not the case that Richard is sad because he thinks Paul wants no public kisses: they go for it as usual. I also don't think he's sad because he'd prefer the kiss to be longer - that doesn't sound like an actual reason to feel sad. It has to be something else.

Whatever it is, Richard tries to pull away first as he probably thinks the kiss will be over by that time anyway. Indeed, it's usually been (if not any other time) Paul who pulls away first; I also think Richard's hand on the back of Paul's neck used to be there for that extra control, to keep him in place just a little bit longer, but it wasn't hugely sufficient. This time though, again, Richard thinks the kiss will be over just after a moment. But what happens next? Especially from this angle, it seems very clear: Paul doesn't let go. And his reaction is really intense: he keeps his lips locked with Richard's, his right hand, put on Richard's shoulder, grabs it more firmly; you can see all his body leaning on his partner; if you look at his butt, it slightly goes up as he maybe even gets on tiptoe.

I remember reading suggestions Richard was that surprised because maybe Paul slipped him some tongue. I'd love to think that, but what I believe really happened was that Paul sucked hard on Richard's lip to keep their mouths together as Richard tried to pull away.

This is not the best quality, but it sort of confirms that theory: you can briefly see Richard's mouth, and then how it literally gets sucked:)

Paul pulls away when it's over but also slightly pushes Richard: "now, that should do!", but Richard, despite experiencing a massive WTF?! moment, remains sober enough to put some pressure on Paul's nape, doesn't let him go, and pulls him back close again, for a hug. He also starts to laugh so heartily that it makes my heart melt. Perhaps he's realized what face he's just made and laughs, just a little bit, at himself too. Paul, on the other hand, briefly returns the hug, but then is all like: "there, there, don't overdo it, babe." He gives Richard a few pats on the back, like the male friends with no benefits would do - he is back into his no PDA mode, and puts his right hand back on Richard's shoulder, this time trying to push him away.

But now Richard does not have it: "nah love, not so fast, you should have expected now I need to thank you for what you've just done... *mwah*". Another kiss on the lips, brief one this time, and finally Paul can go, obviously showing to everybody: "look! Just look at this little naughty thing right there!", Richard is doing something similar for a moment, too (what a complete pair of dorks:D).

So, I imagine Richard was so surprised because Paul not only didn't want to end the kiss quickly but literally forced it to be longer. I love this moment so much for two reasons: it totally makes sense Paul is uncomfortable with PDA, but as soon as Richard feels worse, or Paul gets sentimental himself (like by the end of tours), Paul stops thinking about any discomfort and goes for it with no hesitation, which pretty much says that comforting Richard is simply much more important for him. I think we saw it here, we saw it during Puppe 2023 or this tour after the German football team lost.

What I also more than love, is how Paul's little mouth-to-mouth treatment really brings Richard back to life and turns the night into the day for him (no wonder, who wouldn't be more than alive if they just got a kiss from Landers himself?). Richard is over the moon here, and seeing him undergo such a 180-degree mood switch is an almost otherwordly experience...

Here's the whole video cropped by me, original credit to till_lindemann_pics on ig. One of the other gifs by @davecumstaine, the other one - I can't tell, I downloaded it a long time ago and can't find it here anymore, many apologies;(

[jetii]

Event Horizon

Chapter Ten: Truth

Chapter WC: 8,808

Chapter Tags/Warnings: none

A/N: Checked the wordcount on the completed chapters doc today and it's over 100k already?? anyway the next few chapters are for real my fav. i live for the drama

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Coruscant, 21 BBY

"I can't believe they gave me Archive duty," Ahsoka groans, rolling her eyes. 

You smirk, turning the page of the dusty tomb lying in front of you. You had managed to escape the ire of the Council thanks to Obi-Wan, but Ahsoka was not so lucky. She was sentenced to "volunteer work" at the Temple Archives indefinitely, a punishment that she seemed to take very personally. 

You had offered to keep her company while you were still recovering, and you had to admit, when you weren’t forced to be here, it was kind of fun. There was something calming about the Archives, the smell of old paper and leather, the dim light, the quiet.

You'd spent more time here than most other Jedi, and even though the work was often tedious, it was something you found peace in. Ahsoka didn't seem to feel the same.

"It's not that bad," you say, your eyes scanning the page. "Besides, if you hadn't disobeyed Anakin, this wouldn't have happened."

"Well, maybe, if he hadn't given the order in the first place—"

"Ahsoka."

"I know, I know," she sighs, her shoulders slumping. She pushes the crate she was organizing to the side and collapses on a nearby bench, her arms crossed. "He's just...so frustrating sometimes."

"Yeah," you chuckle. “He is.”

“Did you ever feel that way about Master Yaddle?"

"Sometimes," you reply. You glance up from your reading and smile at her. "But I’m sure I frustrated her much more. I’m still not sure why she took me as her Padawan, honestly."

"Because you're a great Jedi," Ahsoka points out. She grins and leans forward, her chin resting on her hands. "And, because, despite what you say, you're actually pretty nice."

"Nice?"

"Yeah," she laughs. "You're one of the few Jedi I can talk to about things. You listen. Not everyone does."

"You could talk to Master Plo, or Anakin, or even Obi-Wan," you say, closing the book. You look at her, a frown on your face. "There's a lot more Jedi in the Temple."

"I know, but..." Her voice trails off, and her expression grows sad, the humor fading. “You’re the only one who’s not trying to teach me some kind of lesson. Who isn’t expecting something from me. You don't care that I'm young, or that I'm not a real Jedi yet, or—"

"You are a real Jedi," you interrupt. You stand and walk over to her, taking a seat beside her, your hands resting on your knees. "Don't ever doubt that. I don't. I know how strong you are, and I know what you're capable of. And, so does Anakin. Don't let this one mistake define you."

She sighs and rests her elbows on her thighs, her chin cupped in her palms. "I know, but it's hard," she says quietly. "Everyone has an opinion, and they're all just waiting for me to mess up again. To prove that I'm not fit to be a Jedi."

"That's not true," you tell her. "The Council might be a little disappointed with your actions, but no one doubts that you belong here, Ahsoka. No one."

She doesn't respond.

You watch her carefully, your brow furrowed. It isn’t lost on you how similar her words are to your own internal monologue, and how often she mirrors your own thoughts and fears. She’s just a kid, and you remember being her age, the pressure, the weight of expectation, and the struggle to be enough.

While you doubt you’ll ever feel like you measure up, or will ever stop feeling like an outsider, you know, deep down, that no matter what happens, the Order is where you belong. You belong with the Jedi. There is no other place for you than here.

"If it makes you feel any better," you say, trying to lighten the mood. You nudge her shoulder. “You’re only continuing the tradition of disobedience set by your Masters before you. Anakin, Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon—“ you pause and let out a sharp breath before continuing “—and his master have all done their time here. Practically a rite of passage, I’d say.”

She rolls her eyes and nudges you back. "You're not funny."

"Sure I am."

“You can’t honestly expect me to believe Master Kenobi ever had to do this," she scoffs. "I mean, he's like, the perfect Jedi."

"Ha! Well, I guess you'd be surprised." 

You smirk, remembering the many times Obi-Wan had come to your aid during your years as younglings, covering for you and, often, getting himself into just as much trouble as you.

It was always Obi-Wan, with his clever words and quick wit, who got the two of you out of hot water, and you always found it amusing how no one seemed to realize it was him who had started the whole thing. It was like people couldn’t see past the image they had of him, or their assumptions, and it made him the perfect accomplice. 

"We caused plenty of chaos back in the day,” you add with a fond smile. "I can't even begin to tell you all the stories I could share. I have years worth of them."

"Oh really?"

"Yep," you confirm. "Obi-Wan was a terror."

Ahsoka snorts and raises an eyebrow. "Now I know you're lying."

"It's true. He was a troublemaker. Still is, if I'm being honest,” you laugh. "We were the worst influences on each other. That's probably why we became such good friends."

"I can't imagine Master Obi-Wan doing anything even close to disobeying the rules," Ahsoka says. She leans forward, her chin in her palms, a mischievous grin on her face. You smile back and cross your legs, settling into the bench. "I'm going to need proof, or a story. Either will do."

"What do you want to hear?"

"Something crazy," she prompts. "Something he would never tell me. Something wild. And then I'll believe it."

You chuckle and lean back against the wall, your eyes drifting, the memories filling your mind. You could think of a hundred different tales, many of them far too embarrassing to repeat, and most of them you doubted would be appropriate to tell an impressionable teenager. You were not the best storyteller, but if Ahsoka wanted entertainment, you could oblige. If only a little.

"Okay, okay, let's see..." you muse, thinking. "Okay, here's one. When I was thirteen years old, Obi-Wan was a newly made Padawan, and I was still a youngling. One day, we had a day off from training, and, well, let's just say, we weren't exactly sticking around the Temple."

"Where did you go?"

"Well, Obi-Wan had heard about this place," you continue, smiling. "Apparently, there was this abandoned warehouse deep in the lower levels, converted it into a kind of club. It was the coolest thing we had ever seen, and we were determined to get in. Only problem was, we were a bit too young. Not that that stopped us. We had been going to this club, sneaking out, for about a week, before a member of the Jedi Council caught us."

"Which one?"

"Master Plo, actually,” you say, a smirk tugging at your lips. "We got lucky. I think he was more impressed than upset."

Ahsoka lets out a snort and covers her mouth. "No."

"Yes," you insist. "He caught us sneaking out of the Temple and followed us. We made it all the way to the warehouse before we realized he was right behind us."

"How did you get away with it?"

"We didn't," you chuckle. "I think we had a few choice words with the Council that night. But we got to go back to the club a few more times before we were caught again. Obi-Wan managed to get himself banned a few months later, though. Something about trying to fight a guy over a girl."

You look away, biting your cheek. Ahsoka didn't need to know that you were the girl. That it was the first, and the only time that the two of you had kissed. You were both so young, and it was nothing more than a childish attempt at romance. It was a bittersweet memory, tinged with a touch of guilt, and you had long ago buried it.

"I'll have to ask him about that," she teases. "I bet there's a lot more stories he'd never tell me."

"You can try," you challenge. "Good luck."

"What was he like?" Ahsoka asks. She shifts on the bench, turning her body toward you, her eyes sparkling. "Before he was a Knight, or a Master, or...all that. What was he like back then?"

"He was different," you tell her. You hesitate, your brow furrowing, and you shrug. "He was...happier. More carefree. He didn't take things as seriously as he does now."

"He's still pretty carefree," Ahsoka points out. She tilts her head, her gaze growing thoughtful, and a small frown tugs at her lips. "I've never really seen him angry, or upset. Except for when you were in the bacta tank."

You pause. You hadn't thought much about Obi-Wan while you were recovering. Your mind had been a bit preoccupied with other matters, but now, looking back, you had noticed the dark circles under his eyes, and the tension in his shoulders, and the way his jaw clenched every time someone brought up the battle. It had only been a week since your return, and yet, he seemed to have aged ten years, and the worry was still plain on his face. 

Even now, there was still a distance, a coldness, between the two of you. He hadn't been by the Healers Ward again, and he'd avoided you at the debriefing with the Council even though he'd spoken in your favor.

"He was worried," you say simply. You glance down at your hands and twist your fingers, swallowing the sudden tightness in your throat.

"I’m sure you’ve noticed that we share a bond. Something like a Master and Padawan bond. It's stronger, because we were raised together, and because our abilities complement each other, and, well, because we've spent our whole lives together."

"What is it like?" she asks. Her eyes are wide, and she's listening intently, her attention focused on you. "Having a bond with someone? Does it hurt?"

"Sometimes," you confess. You let out a heavy sigh, and you look down, your expression troubled. "When the other person is in danger, or suffering, it can be difficult to deal with. And, sometimes, it can be overwhelming. Obi-Wan is quite skilled at shielding, but...I’m not so fortunate. I’m sure feeling my pain was not easy for him."

It’s an excuse, and you know it. But the truth was much harder to admit. Obi-Wan being upset enough at your injuries that Ahsoka had picked up on it was an uncomfortable thought. The reality of how deeply you had hurt him, and the fact that you hadn’t even considered how he would feel, was not something you were prepared to deal with. Not right now. Perhaps not ever.

"You're close," she comments, her voice soft. She hesitates, and she gives you a sad smile, her eyes searching yours. "I...I don't have a bond with Anakin. Not like you and Master Kenobi. I've always wondered what it would be like."

"It's strange," you reply slowly. You shrug and give her a rueful smile. "It’s been this way for so long, and I just...I don't know. I don't know what it's like not to have it. The closest we ever came to losing it completely was after..."

You trail off, your smile fading, and you turn away, unable to meet her eyes. "After the Naboo incident. Things were never the same, after that."

Ahsoka doesn't say anything.

You can't blame her. You don't have the words. There's so much left unsaid, so much you could tell her, but you know you won't. It's not the right time. Perhaps it will never be the right time. And so, instead, you change the subject, pushing the pain and the regret away, burying it under the weight of a smile. 

"What else do you want to know?"

Ahsoka's gaze grows thoughtful, and she leans back, resting her head against the wall, her brow furrowed. She looks up, and her lips purse, her fingers tapping against her thighs. 

Finally, she smiles, a wicked glint in her eyes. "What about Rex?"

Your eyes widen, and you can feel the color draining from your face, the shock making you speechless. You hadn't expected that question, and it takes a moment for you to regain your composure, your mind scrambling to think of a response. But Ahsoka doesn't wait. 

Instead, she keeps talking, the grin growing. "Rex told Anakin that you had saved his life."

"Yes," you say cautiously. You frown, and you cross your arms, raising an eyebrow. "And?"

"Well," she draws the word out, and she sits up, her elbows on her knees, her hands clasped. "Anakin said he'd never seen you act like that before."

You open your mouth to respond, and then close it, unsure of what to say.

"So," she presses. "Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Friends."

"Yes," you snap. "Of course we're friends. He's a friend. We're friends. Is that a problem?"

"No, no," she replies quickly. "Of course not."

"Good."

"But—"

"Ahsoka," you interrupt, and you let out a sharp breath, your fingers rubbing your temples. "There is no but. Rex is a friend. I saved his life. End of story."

"Sure," she agrees. Her expression is far too innocent, and you're not going to play into whatever she's thinking. You stand and return to the table, picking up the book, and Ahsoka follows, sitting down next to you. "I just thought, maybe, there was something else."

"Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know," she says, feigning nonchalance. She pulls another book off the pile and begins leafing through the pages, a casual, carefree tone to her voice. "He's been asking about you."

Your head snaps up, and you stare at her, the shock giving way to surprise, and then hope, the flutter in your chest returning. "He has?"

Realizing your mistake, you bite your cheek and look back down at the book, your heart pounding, and your throat suddenly dry. You swallow, and you try to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks,and the feeling in your chest. 

Rex had been asking about you. He had talked to Anakin about you. Those were perfectly normal, innocent, things for him to do. Nothing strange. Nothing to indicate anything more.

"Mmhmm," Ahsoka hums, her eyes flicking up, a hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. She looks back down, the grin growing, and she nudges your shoulder. "He was worried the Council was going to punish you for saving him."

"That's it?"

"I'm not sure," she muses. She tilts her head, her fingers drumming against the book, her expression thoughtful. "He seemed pretty concerned. More than he normally is."

You shake your head and lean forward, pretending to be engrossed in the text.

"I'm sure he was just being polite," you mumble. You keep your eyes on the page, but your mind is elsewhere, and the words blur before your eyes. You force yourself to keep reading, not daring to look up. "I doubt he was all that worried."

"Hm," Ahsoka says.

You wait a few more moments, and then, when Ahsoka doesn't speak, you glance over at her. She's looking at you, her lips pursed, a knowing smile on her face. You stare at her, and she stares back, and finally, you roll your eyes, letting out a sigh.

"Fine," you grumble. You shut the book and shove it away, leaning back in the chair, your arms crossed. "We are friends, and I enjoy his company. Is that what you want to hear?"

Ahsoka shrugs and grins, and you can't help the smile tugging at your lips.

"He's a good person," she says. She's not looking at you anymore, but she's smiling, and you can tell she's holding back a laugh. "Very loyal."

"Yes, he is," you agree. You look away, a frown forming, and your voice drops. "And a good soldier."

There's a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, a heaviness, a sudden sadness that you hadn't expected. You're not sure what brought it on, but it's there, a reminder of the truth, of the reality. You swallow the lump in your throat, and you glance down, your fingers tracing the cover of the book, a strange numbness settling in.

"Yeah." Ahsoka looks at you, and her brow furrows, the teasing tone gone. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," you lie. You force a smile and shrug. "Everything's fine."

"You're sure?" she asks. She looks skeptical, her head tilted, and she frowns. "You look...upset."

"I'm not."

"You don't have to lie," she says. She shifts in her chair, and she turns to face you, her hand resting on your arm, her expression earnest. "If there's something wrong, you can tell me. I won't judge."

"I know," you reply softly. "But there's nothing to tell. I'm fine."

She doesn't believe you. You can tell by the way she's looking at you, her eyes narrowed, and her lips pursed. Ahsoka doesn't press the issue, though, and you're grateful for that. You don't want to talk about it, and, honestly, you're not sure if you can. Or, if, when the words come out, they'll sound as stupid as they do in your head.

"Now," you say, and you push yourself up, grabbing a crate. You walk over to the other side of the room and begin sorting through the books, setting them on the shelves. "Let's get back to work."

"Ugh, not more sorting."

"It's your punishment," you point out. "Besides, I've had enough excitement for one day. I could use some boring, manual labor."

"I guess," Ahsoka mutters.

You laugh, and you return to your task, the quiet settling over the room. Ahsoka sighs and does the same, and the two of you spend the rest of the afternoon in silence, only occasionally exchanging a few words. 

The sun begins to set, and the shadows grow, and soon, the entire room is bathed in the orange glow of the sunset, the warmth filling the air. It's peaceful, and comfortable, and it's exactly what you need. No drama. No complications. No one trying to get into your head, or telling you how to live your life. It's the kind of solitude you haven't had in a long time, and, even if you can't enjoy it for long, it's a nice respite from the chaos.

You're not sure how much time has passed, or how long the two of you have been working, but the silence is broken when the door slides open. You turn and watch as Obi-Wan enters the room, a smile on his face, his hands tucked in his sleeves. He greets the both of you and comes to stand beside the table, his attention focused on you. His expression is serious, his eyes searching, and you avoid his gaze.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," he says, his voice polite, and his words carefully chosen. You can tell he's uncomfortable, and it makes you uneasy. "I was hoping I might have a word with you, if you're not too busy."

"Of course," you reply.

You look over at Ahsoka, who’s staring at the two of you, her gaze flicking between you, and she smirks, standing and grabbing the crate she had been organizing. "I'll give you some privacy."

"Thank you."

She leaves the room, leaving you and Obi-Wan alone, the quiet a heavy, uncomfortable, thing. You don't know what to say, or what to do, and it's an awkward few moments before he breaks the silence, clearing his throat, his hands moving to clasp behind his back.

"I was wondering how you were," he says. He takes a step toward you, and he hesitates, his eyes dropping. "I haven't seen much of you these past few days."

"Yes," you mumble. You cross your arms and shrug, avoiding his gaze. "I've been, um, busy. You know. Helping with the Archives. And healing."

"I see."

There's another pause.

"So," he says. "Are you feeling better? Has the Healers Ward released you yet?"

"They released me a few days ago," you tell him as you turn, walking over to the window, your fingers brushing along the ledge. "They were quite happy with my recovery. It didn't take long for me to heal."

"That's good."

"And, I feel fine," you add, turning to look at him. "I've been back in training for a few days now."

"Good."

"Good."

"Well," he says. He steps forward and stops, his hand on the back of a chair, his expression guarded. "I'm glad you're back on your feet."

"Yes," you murmur. "It's, uh, it's good to be back."

He gives you a curt nod, and you nod back, and then there's another long, agonizing, silence. You look at him, and he looks at you, and when it becomes too much, you turn away, your fingers tracing the window frame, the metal cool beneath your fingertips.

"You said you wanted to speak with me?" you ask the window.

"Yes."

You hear him take a deep breath, and when you look over your shoulder, he's staring at the floor, his brow furrowed, his jaw clenched. It's strange to see him so...distraught. So unsure of himself.

"I came to apologize," he says quietly. He crosses his arms, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. "For my actions the other day. I was not myself, and I should not have acted as I did."

"Oh," you murmur.

"I was...wrong to have treated you as I did. You didn't deserve it. And I was out of line."

You let out a sigh and close your eyes. "Obi-Wan..."

"Please," he interrupts, and his tone is pleading, and it stops you. "I need to say this."

"Alright," you say. You move away from the window, and you lean against the table, your arms crossed and your brow furrowed. "Say what you need to."

"I was angry," he admits, and the words hang in the air, heavy and sharp. He pauses and takes a breath, and you can tell he's choosing his words carefully. "I was upset. You have no idea how much it hurt, seeing you like that. Lying there, unconscious. Not knowing if you would make it. I..."

He trails off, and he looks away, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"And I know," he continues. He looks back up, his eyes meeting yours, and you can't help but see the pain, the hurt, the desperation. "I know that you would do it again, if given the choice. And I can't blame you for it. But it doesn't make it any easier."

"Obi-Wan," you murmur. You can feel your eyes burning, and you swallow the sudden lump in your throat. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"I know," he says. "I know."

"I wasn't thinking. I was acting on instinct, and—"

"I know," he repeats, his voice gentle. "It was not your fault. You did what was right, and, had it been anyone else, I would have been proud. You saved a life. That is something to be celebrated. But...you're not just anyone."

"I can't promise that I won't do it again," you tell him. "If the situation arises, I won't hesitate to save another soldier. Even if they're not a Jedi. Or a friend."

He smiles, a small, sad thing, and he nods. 

"I wouldn't expect any less," he says. He steps toward you, and he takes your hand, squeezing gently. "It is, after all, one of the many reasons I admire you."

You can't help the smirk tugging at your lips. "Well, that, and dazzling personality and my good looks, right?"

"Among others," he teases. His expression grows solemn, and he glances down, his thumb running over your knuckles. "I'm sorry. For everything. I'm sure the last thing you need is for me to be acting as I was."

"Well, with the amount of tantrums Anakin and I have thrown over the years, it's only fair that you get to have one every once in a while."

Obi-Wan grimaces and shakes his head "Please, don't remind me."

"You're not still mad, are you?" you ask. He tilts his head, a faint frown pulling at his lips. "I mean, you're not going to lecture me again, are you?"

"No," he replies, his tone wry. "Not today."

"Good."

"You're not completely forgiven, though."

"What?"

"I'm afraid that, if we're ever in a similar situation," he continues, his voice casual, his eyes narrowing, "and if you ever make me think you're dying again, I will be forced to have a very stern conversation with you."

You roll your eyes. "Obi-Wan..."

"I mean it," he insists. "I'll have no choice."

"Well," you drawl. You pull your hand free and push yourself away from the table, crossing your arms. "If I die, and you feel the need to lecture my corpse, by all means, go right ahead. I won't stop you."

He gives you a flat look, and you hold back a smile, raising an eyebrow.

"We'll see," he says finally. His lips twitch, and he sighs, rubbing his forehead. "In all seriousness, though, I am sorry. For everything. I was unfair, and I shouldn't have blamed you. I shouldn't have taken out my anger on you."

"No," you agree softly. "You shouldn't have."

"I know," he sighs. He runs a hand through his hair and takes a step closer to you, his hand reaching out to grasp your elbow, his touch gentle. "I don't want us to be like this. We've fought enough over the years. I want you to know that I trust you, and despite my fears, and the concerns I have, I will always support you. Whatever decisions you make."

You let out a breath, and his hand moves, sliding up your arm, coming to rest on the back of your neck. He gives you a smile, and there's a flicker of regret and sorrow before he pulls you forward, his forehead resting against yours. His grip tightens, and you put your hands on his waist, holding onto him.

"Thank you," you whisper.

"I'll always be here for you," he says softly. "Whenever you need me."

You smile and lift your chin, brushing your lips across his cheek, a fleeting, brief, touch. "And I'll always be here for you. Whatever you need."

He chuckles and squeezes your neck, his breath warm on your skin. "I appreciate the sentiment."

"Now," you murmur, and you pull away, your hands moving to rest on his chest. "What I really need right now is a stiff drink."

He raises an eyebrow. "That is not what you need right now."

"But it would help," you insist. "A lot."

"No."

"C'mon," you beg, your hands curling in the fabric of his tunic. You give him a pout, and he groans, his eyes closing. "It'll be fun. Just like old times."

"You are not getting me into any more trouble than I'm already in," he says. He pulls your hands off of him, and he holds them in his, a stern look on his face. "The Council has already spoken to me about your reckless behavior. I'd prefer not to give them more reason to doubt me."

"They won't know," you promise. You squeeze his hands, your eyes bright. "We'll be careful."

"You don't know how to be careful."

"Then teach me," you counter, a smirk playing on your lips.

He lets out a sigh, and his brow furrows, his mouth twisting. You can see the temptation in his eyes, the desire to give in, and it's only a matter of time before you convince him. He hesitates, glancing over at the door. "It is late. Most people should be gone by now."

"See?" you say. "Easy. Quick drink. No one will see."

"Fine," he concedes. "But we will not be staying long."

"Thank you."

You release his hands and step back, your fingers lacing together, your grin widening. Obi-Wan gives you an exasperated look and gestures for you to go, and you laugh and start to back away.

"I'll meet you at the usual place," you tell him. You turn and head for the door, calling over your shoulder. "Don't keep me waiting."

"Wouldn't dream of it!" he calls out, his tone amused. "Just...don't get us caught."

"Never," you promise.

You're through the door and gone before he can say anything else, and the moment you're alone, you take a deep breath and run a hand through your hair. It's not until you're nearly to your quarters that the nerves begin to settle in, and the excitement gives way to apprehension, a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You're still a bit wary of Obi-Wan's sudden change in mood. It's unlike him to act like he did, and to be so openly hostile. And, as much as you'd like to believe that everything is alright, that things were fine, there was still something gnawing at the back of your mind. 

The look on his face when you told him how you saved Rex's life was burned into your memory. You couldn't help but be reminded of how he looked at you the day after your knighting, when you'd told him your plan to find Yaddle's killer, and he'd treated you like a child.

It was the same, the same disdain and anger, the same look of disappointment, and the same, cold, distance. The only difference was, this time, you hadn't done anything wrong. You had saved a life. There was nothing for him to be disappointed about.

But the look was there, the same unspoken accusation. And it stung.

It’s only then that you realize he’d neglected to let his walls down during the conversation. There had been no opening, no chance to see into his mind. No moment of vulnerability. You hadn’t noticed, and now, you couldn’t understand why. It didn't make sense.

Obi-Wan had never kept his thoughts and feelings hidden from you before. He had never been afraid to show his emotions, or his pain. It was always you who'd had trouble with it, who'd struggled with letting him see the truth. He was the one who always opened up.

And now, he wasn't. 

You shake the thought from your mind and continue on, ignoring the unease growing in your chest. He'd apologized then, and he apologized now, and he meant it. You didn't need the Force to know that. And he'd agreed to sneak out with you, which was more than he would have done if he was truly upset with you.

You would have a nice evening, and nothing else would happen. And tomorrow, the two of you would move on. Everything would go back to normal.

You reach your quarters, and you let yourself in, making a beeline for the fresher. You don't waste any time and strip out of your robes, stepping under the hot spray, and you wash quickly, rinsing the day's grime and sweat off. The water cascades down your body, washing the tension away, the warmth enveloping you, and for the first time in days, you can breathe, the knot in your chest loosening.

Once you're finished, you dry yourself and step back into the room, rummaging through the pile of clothes haphazardly thrown in your dresser. You pull out a simple shirt and a pair of pants, and you dress, slipping on a pair of boots and a cropped leather jacket. It's been too long since you've dressed so casually, and it feels odd, like you're not yourself. But, it's also a refreshing change from stifling robes.

You comb your hair, pulling the wet strands back into a loose braid, and you're ready. You check the time and grab a few credits from the dresser, shoving them into your pocket, and you're out the door.

You arrive at the bar a short while later, and you spot Obi-Wan sitting in the corner, a glass in his hand and his attention on the crowd. He sees you and smiles, and you make your way through the room, the noise and the heat hitting you. He's wearing civilian clothes, his hair loose around his face, his beard trimmed, and he looks almost relaxed. Almost.

You reach the table and slide into the seat across from him, his gaze appraising. You can't help but blush, and you cross your arms, giving him a look.

"What?" you ask.

"Nothing," he replies. His eyes linger on yours for a moment longer, and then they trail over the rest of your body, his lips quirking. "It's just been a while since I've seen you like this. It's...refreshing."

"Well," you say, leaning forward. You lower your voice, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. "I wouldn't want to draw any attention to myself."

He chuckles, and his eyes sparkle with amusement, a glint of something else in their depths. "I appreciate the effort."

You smile and reach over, plucking his glass from his hand. He doesn't protest, and you take a sip, the liquor burning as it goes down. You set the glass back on the table, and his gaze lingers, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. You raise an eyebrow and stare at him, and he shakes his head, pushing himself up.

"I'm going to get another drink," he says. He nods his head towards the bar. "Would you like one?"

"Yes, please."

"I'll be right back."

He leaves, and you watch him walk away, and the moment he's out of earshot, you groan, the realization of what you'd done, and where you were, setting in. It was bad enough that the two of you had snuck off to a cantina together, and were dressed like this, but it was even worse that it felt...odd. Strange. And you weren't sure why. It was the same as every other time you'd met him for drinks, and yet, it wasn't.

There was something different. Something...off. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, but it was there, and it made you uneasy. Like the calm before a storm.

"Hey," someone says.

You turn and see a man standing next to the table, a bottle of something in his hand, his smile friendly. You can't help the sigh that escapes you. It was going to be one of those nights.

"Hey," you reply. Your eyes drop, and you frown, the words on the bottle blurring. It's some sort of liquor, and a cheap one at that. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I'm hoping I could buy a beautiful woman a drink," he says. He sets the bottle down and pulls out the chair, sitting. You glance around the room, looking for Obi-Wan. There's no sign of him. "And, maybe, have a chat. Get to know each other."

"Look," you begin, and your voice is strained, the exhaustion starting to creep in. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm not—"

"C'mon," he insists. He grabs the bottle and opens it, pouring a shot. He pushes it towards you, a grin on his face. "Just one drink."

"No, thank you."

“You won’t regret it.”

“No.”

"One drink," he repeats. He lifts the glass and nods, and when you don't move, his smile fades. "Don't be rude."

"Oh, I'm being rude?" you snap. You stand, and you tower over him, your hand on the table. He stares up at you, his mouth hanging open. "I've had a long week, and I'm not in the mood. Now, leave me alone."

"Alright, alright," he mutters. He stands and picks up the bottle, backing away. "You don't have to get so upset."

You don't reply, and he turns and walks away, disappearing into the crowd. You let out a breath and slump back into the chair, rubbing your forehead. It's not long before you're joined again, but this time, it's Obi-Wan who slides into the seat, a bottle and two glasses in his hand. He notices the look on your face, and he raises an eyebrow.

"Another admirer?"

"Yes," you mutter. You take the glass he offers and down it, and he stares at you, concern flickering across his features. "I guess I'm not used to the attention anymore."

"Hm," he hums. He takes the glass from you and refills it, his brow furrowing. "You shouldn't be out here like this. You're too..."

"What?"

"I just..." he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He looks down and frowns. "I worry."

"Obi-Wan, I'm not made of glass," you snap. "And I'm not some defenseless child. I'm not going to shatter because some idiot tries to hit on me."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

He looks at you, and he sighs, his eyes searching yours. He opens his mouth to speak, and you brace yourself for whatever he's going to say, knowing that it's going to be a lecture, or a reminder of why you shouldn't be out here. Of why you shouldn't be with him. That it's not safe. That it's a risk. 

But, he doesn't say any of those things. Instead, his eyes drop, and his jaw clenches, and when he finally speaks, it's a whisper, the words soft and gentle. 

"You're a beautiful woman. A powerful, intelligent, wonderful, woman," he says. He looks at you, his expression open, and you can't help the way your heart leaps into your throat. "You have an air of confidence and determination, and...you're breathtaking. It's impossible not to notice you. Especially here."

You gape at him, and his lips twitch, his eyes darkening, a hint of mischief in his gaze. "I can't blame him for trying. I would, too, if I were him."

You can feel the heat spreading across your cheeks, the flush creeping up your neck. He's always been honest with you, and open, but this is different. He's never said anything like this before. You feel yourself scrambling, trying to regain your composure, and when you do, you let out a shaky laugh.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," you say. You lean forward, your arms resting on the table, a smirk playing on your lips. "Is that jealousy I hear?"

"Not at all," he assures you, and the sincerity is almost believable. He leans closer, and his gaze drops, his voice low. "If anyone is jealous, it's him. He'll never have you. Not the way I do."

Your smirk widens, and you laugh, taking the bottle from his hand and pouring another shot. "Well, you have nothing to worry about. I'm here with you, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are."

You hold his gaze, and you down the shot, the alcohol burning. It's a dangerous game, and the both of you know it, and, as much as you want to keep pushing, and prodding, and testing his limits, you know better. It's best to let it go. It's best to move on. Besides, this was supposed to be fun.

"So," you say, pushing the bottle away, a small smile on your face. "Now that you're done worrying about me, can we finally have some fun? I didn't come here to sit and mope."

"Of course." He raises his glass and tilts his head. "To us."

"To us."

The rest of the evening is a blur. It passes in a haze of alcohol and laughter, the conversation turning to trivial things. There's no mention of the war, or Felucia, or the Council, and you're glad. You need a night off, and a break from everything, and you know Obi-Wan does too. The two of you have had so few chances to relax, and even fewer to spend time together. 

You find yourselves falling back into the routine of years past, and, as the evening wears on, the two of you become more and more carefree. You're laughing and teasing, and Obi-Wan's telling stories about his adventures as a young padawan, and your memories of the past come flooding back. The times the two of you have snuck off, and the things you've done, and the trouble you've gotten into. And it's nice. Comforting. To be with him, and to enjoy his company. Even if you know it can't last.

You've managed to drag Obi-Wan out onto the balcony, and the two of you are leaning against the railing, watching the people below, the wind ruffling your hair. You can feel his warmth, and his arm is pressing into yours, and the alcohol has left a pleasant buzz in your head. You're not quite drunk, but, judging by the flush in Obi-Wan's cheeks, he's further along than you are.

"I have a confession," he mutters. You raise an eyebrow, and he gives you a crooked smile. "I've missed this. Missed...us. Doing this. Being here."

"Yeah," you murmur. You glance at him, and he meets your gaze, his eyes bright. "I've missed this too."

"We should do it more often," he says. He reaches over and brushes a strand of hair from your cheek, his touch lingering, his thumb stroking your skin. "Spend time together. Outside the Temple."

"Obi-Wan."

"What?"

"Don't do this."

"I'm not doing anything," he counters. He turns to face you, his expression earnest, his voice soft. "I'm not saying that we should be together. Or that we should..." He trails off, and his eyes flick down, a flicker of hesitation crossing his features. "But, I've missed this. And, I think you have too."

"Obi-Wan..." You let out a breath and run a hand through your hair, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "What's wrong with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're...different," you explain. You shrug and turn away, looking out over the city. "It's not just tonight. You've been acting strange for weeks. Ever since Felucia. I just..." You shake your head sigh, glancing over at him. "Are you sure you're alright? That everything is okay?"

"Yes," he replies, and the reply is quick, and curt, and too easy. You stare at him, and he shrugs, a frown tugging at his lips. "I'm fine."

"Are you?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You tell me," you snap. You turn and lean against the railing, crossing your arms, your glare hard. "Because, one minute, you're angry with me, and the next, you're...this. Tell me what's going on."

He holds your gaze for a moment, and then his eyes drop, his hand coming up to cover his face as a low groan escapes him.

"I don't know," he mutters. He takes a step closer and leans against the railing, his arm brushing against yours. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Obi-Wan..."

"I'm tired," he whispers. He looks over at you, his eyes sad, his voice hollow. "I'm tired of the war. I'm tired of the fighting. I'm tired of losing people. And...I'm tired of having to pretend."

"Pretend what?"

"Everything," he answers. His hand drops to the railing, his fingers curling around the metal, his grip tight. "Who I am. How I feel. What I'm thinking. What I want." He turns and looks at you, his eyes meeting yours, a flicker of emotion crossing his features. "What I want with you."

"And, how do you feel?" you ask softly. "What do you want with me?"

He swallows and turns away, his eyes focused on the skyline, and you can see the struggle in his face. He doesn't speak, and the silence grows heavy, and uncomfortable, and you let out a frustrated sigh.

"Obi-Wan—"

"I care for you. I have always cared for you. More than I should. More than is right."

He turns to face you, and there's a desperation in his eyes, and a longing, and you know where this is going. You know what he wants to say.

But, he doesn't. Instead, he sighs, his shoulders slumping, and he shakes his head.

"You mean the world to me, and I don't want to lose you."

"You're not going to lose me."

"You don't know that," he insists. He takes a step closer, and his hands are on your waist, his touch light, his gaze searching yours. "I'm not the only one who has changed."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're different, too," he says. His hands move, and they slide up your back, his thumbs brushing along your cheek. "The last few months have changed you. And I'm afraid of what will happen. What will change."

"Nothing's going to change," you promise, and your voice is low, and soft. "We're the same. We're just older. And wiser. And maybe a little more jaded. But, we're still the same. You're still the same man who was my first love, and I'm still the same girl who fell for him."

He smiles, a small, sad, thing, and he lets out a breath, his forehead resting against yours. Your eyes close, and your hands move to his chest, the fabric warm and soft beneath your fingers, his heart beating steadily beneath your palm.

The tension in his body melts away, and his touch is gentle, his thumb stroking your cheek. You can't help but press closer, his arms wrapping around you, holding you tight.

"I don't know what I would do without you," he murmurs. He lets out a shaky breath, and you can feel him trembling, the weight of the world, the pain and the fear, bearing down on him. "If anything happened to you, if I lost you..."

"You're not going to lose me," you repeat. You reach up and cup his cheek, your thumb running over his stubble, his beard rough against your skin. "I promise."

Obi-Wan doesn't say anything. Instead, he lets out a quiet, strangled, noise, and his lips are on yours, soft and warm and familiar. 

It's a desperate, needy, kiss, and it's all too easy to give in, to let yourself melt into him, his hands on your face and his mouth moving against yours. You haven't been kissed in years, and you haven't kissed him in even longer, and, despite your best efforts, you can't help but respond, your fingers sliding through his hair, a low moan escaping you.

His grip tightens, and his tongue is in your mouth, his body pressing against yours. You can't think, and you can't breathe, and you can feel his need, his desire, the emotions, raw and unguarded, spilling over. He's shaking, and his lips are insistent, and when he pulls back, his breathing is ragged, his eyes dark.

The two of you stare at each other, the silence stretching between you, and the gravity of the situation hits you. You've been friends for years, and you've been lovers, and now, here you are, on the precipice, and you're teetering on the edge. One more step, and there's no going back. One more step, and everything will change.

A sinking stone settles in the pit of your stomach, the fog of alcohol fleeing, and a wave of regret and shame crashing down. You can't believe what you've done. How far you've fallen. And how easily. After all the years you've spent avoiding each other, and trying to be friends, and now, here you are.

"We shouldn't have done that," you whisper. You push him away and take a step back, and he reaches out, his hand on your elbow. "We shouldn't be doing this."

"You're right," he says. His hand falls, and he looks away, a frown tugging at his lips. "We shouldn't have."

Obi-Wan runs a hand through his hair, his eyes closing, and he lets out a long breath. When he looks at you again, the guilt and the sadness in his eyes is gone, replaced by resignation. He reaches over and gives your shoulder a squeeze, his tone gentle. "Come on, let's go home."

You nod, and he releases you, stepping back. You can't meet his gaze, and you turn, your eyes fixed on the ground, the two of you making your way across the balcony. He keeps his distance, and you keep yours, the silence between you tense and heavy.

You're both back in the Temple a short while later, and Obi-Wan leads you back to your room, his pace quick. He stops outside the door, and his eyes meet yours.

“Will you be alright?” he asks, his brows furrowed.

“Yes,” you mutter. You can't meet his gaze, and you fidget, your eyes on the floor.

He sighs and lifts your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"Look," he says softly. "I'm sorry."

"So am I," you say. "I...shouldn't have let that happen."

"It's not your fault," he assures you. His thumb brushes across your cheek, and he gives you a smile. "We both let it get out of hand."

"Still, we shouldn't have..."

"No," he agrees. His hand falls, and he steps back, his smile turning wry. "We definitely shouldn't have."

You manage a weak smile, and his eyes soften.

"I meant to say this before," he starts. "I didn't want to interrupt the moment. But, I meant it."

"Meant what?"

"What I said earlier," he clarifies. He clears his throat and looks down, his gaze fixed on his shoes, his words hesitant. "I...don't want to lose you. I don't think I could bear it. And...I'll do everything I can to make sure that doesn't happen."

"You're not going to lose me," you promise. You smile and grab his hand, squeezing his fingers, your voice soft. "I'll always be here."

He squeezes back, his eyes soft. "I know you're still struggling with Master Yaddle's death, and everything that's happened, and, well, I'm here. It's not much, but my clearance can help. If there's something you need, if there's something that would aid you in your search, let me know. I'm not going to ask questions. Just...if there's anything that can give you closure, I'll get it for you."

"I appreciate the offer," you reply. "But, I don't think the Council would take too kindly to you helping me. Especially after what happened. They're probably going to be watching us both like hawks for a while."

"Right." He sighs.

"However," you continue. "I'd appreciate it if you could pull any records regarding the last few months she was alive. Missions. Debriefings. Anything."

"Consider it done," he promises.

"Thank you."

"Of course," he says. "Anything else?"

"Actually, yes," you say. "There is something else."

"Yes?"

You step forward and wrap your arms around him, hugging him, and he hugs you back, his cheek resting against your head. You hold him close, breathing in his scent, his warmth surrounding you, his arms tight around your waist. There's so much you want to say, and so many things you want to tell him, but none of it feels right. Not after what's happened, and the choices the two of you have made. And, for a moment, you just let yourself be, his heartbeat steady against your cheek, the rise and fall of his chest calming.

"I love you, you know that, right?" you say quietly as you pull away.

He chuckles and brushes a stray hair from your forehead. "Yes, I do."

"Good." You step back and turn toward your door, looking over your shoulder at him. "Now, go. Get some sleep."

"You too," he says, his lips quirking. You can't help but return his smile, and he turns, heading for his room. He glances over his shoulder, and he winks. "Good night, darling."

"Good night," you call out.

He vanishes around the corner, and you turn and open the door, stepping into your room. The door slides shut, and you're greeted by the empty, familiar, sight of your quarters. The walls are bare, the windows are uncovered, and the floors are cold. It's not a welcoming space, and it never has been, but tonight, the silence feels particularly loud. You're used to being alone, but, right now, the loneliness is almost overwhelming.

You're not sure why.

Or, perhaps, you don't want to admit why.

Either way, the ache in your chest is still there, the emptiness still lingers, and you know it's not just from the alcohol. You try to ignore the feeling, and instead you settle on the floor to meditate, focusing on the Force and letting the energy flow through you. 

It doesn't work, and you know it won't. But, you have to try. The alternative is too much to bear. You sit for a few hours, your eyes closed, and your hands resting on your knees, until, eventually, sleep pulls you under.

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[blueberrypancakesworld]

Saw characters comfort you

Mark, Peter, Lawrence, Adam

warning : fluff, hurt/comfort, tiny emotional, kissing, mention of smoking

Summary : Everyone has a bad day, a day when you're sad and can't go on, or a day when the world just seems to have got the better of you. How good that even in such a dirty city there is love and comfort that will help you no matter what.

info : Oh man it feels like years since my last Saw post so why not start with a bit of fluff to try and get back into it.

masterlist

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

Mark

He had always been someone who was relatively alone well until the death of his sisters in law there had been at least the two of them but that togetherness came to a sudden end when he found her murdered since then it was just him and his target again as a successor to the man who had given him a new one.

So it seemed if he hadn't come across her during his work as an investigator as well as a follower for John, a woman who tried to show him that there could still be something good in this world if you just looked for it.

It was a time of love and emotion, but it was always a time when the shadow of John and the various spies was over them both and more and more often Mark came home less and less, much to the chagrin of his love, until the evening when she couldn't blink away the tears either and when the door opened Hoffman was confronted with a painful sight.

He just wanted to take a short break in the flat, thinking she was asleep, but when he entered and heard the crying and screaming he knew something was wrong, ,,Darling? Is everything all right, I'm-" he interrupted himself when he saw sir sitting on the bed in the bedroom, crying, holding a months-old picture framed in her hand, a present from him for her birthday when they had both come here from this town together, only for a few days but it had been the most beautiful days of her life.

Sitting down by her bed, he put his hand on hers and stroked her, ,,What's wrong?" he asked quietly, feeling the pain when he saw her tearful look and how reproachfully she looked at him. it hurt like he had only felt this pain the last time he had lost his sister.

She sniffled again and tried to pull away but he held her tightly and gently, wiping the tears from her cheeks, ,,Ma-Mark…how long? How-How long are you going to do it? I don't want to spend every day worrying that you won't come back," she said, looking back at the picture where she saw a smiling happy couple, a couple who knew that what he was doing could not go unpunished and as much as she ignored it, she knew only the utmost was about a future together.

In the past he would have withdrawn from something like this, but only he was so far from his goal that he could give up now, ,,I'm sorry about your pain…but believe me dear, I just need one last game, one last time and then we'll disappear, then we'll be free of all this," he said, gently embracing her face, looking into sad eyes that sought honesty in his gaze.

An honesty she actually found and slowly moved into his arms, ,,Please Mark keep your promise please" she murmured and sniffled away the last of her tears as she gave him a small smile before he pulled her into a holding kiss, holding her body and giving her the support she needed just for that moment to be free of hope again.

A hold they gave each other even in the last moments before the free ride, before the finish line and before the end of the game she believed Mark believed that if they could just hang in there together they would make it together.

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

Peter

The FBI agent was the one above the law, at least in exceptions, and these exceptions arrived when the first victims were washed up, the first victims executed by Jigsaw in the most brutal way and with each new victim.

Not only Strahm and his colleagues became more nervous as they couldn't catch the killer but also his own drive to suspect his colleague Hoffman became more and more obsessive, an obsession that drew him more and more into this horror.

A horror from which he could only rarely emerge alone, either with his arrest or his death he knew he had to be right to keep the residents safe, to keep those he had sworn to protect safe but the question was if he protected the residents who would protect his partner, his love, his heart when she was home alone?

If she couldn't get back from her work at the vets until the evening and was alone, who would protect her? Questions to which he had no answer despite her pleas, ,,I'll take care of it love, just a little bit okay?" he had put her off every time he drove a short distance in his car in the city centre and left her alone again as he had done for almost the last few weeks…until he got a radio message from Perez that sent a shiver through his body and made him drive his car through the streets faster than allowed.

,,Where is she!" he shouted as he arrived at the police station, pushed past colleagues, victims and others and saw Perez pointing to an interrogation room. ,,Darling, are you all right?" he shouted as he pushed open the door and found his partner wrapped in a blanket with a plaster on her forehead and a small mark on her eyebrow.

,,Peter," she said weakly and fell into his arms as he held her and heard her crying Peter himself had to fight back a few tears as the pain was written all over his face, ,,I should have been there, forgive me for being so sorry" he said, reaching for the cold pack she had been given and pressing it gently against her forehead, looking towards her to see more injuries.

But he saw an amused, angry laugh next to the trembling body, ,,That's not the point…I defended myself through you…but-but if not Peter please I don't want any more" she sniffled, only slowly understanding what she wanted, what the bigger problem was and what was bothering her.

He hugged her to him, she held on to him, slowly trying to calm down and he stroked her back, ,,I'll stay with you every night, you can always stay with me, none of these bastards will hurt you, I promise you love," he told her, his gaze filled with gentleness and yet seriousness as she stroked his head, seeing that he was just as distressed as she was, perhaps not physically but mentally.

But even now as she slept in his arms he held her as they moved from the interrogation room to the couch he held her and watched over her and gave her comfort, comfort she needed now and he would never let her out of his sight again because in the end she was the greatest thing he ever had and would ever get from this filthy town.

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

Lawrence

The sound of metal clicking and a twitching noise could be heard as the blonde doctor made his way through the corridors of the old factory to his operating theatre, the walking stick kept coming up and his prosthetic leg made a clicking sound as the splints, screws and leather moved uncomfortably but slowly getting more and more used to it he had hardly given a thought to the day.

He was here to fulfil another task, to implant another key and lock in his stomach and then to stay here for a while before he would go home with his loved one, even after his wife had left him he only had John, but eventually he had found her, a lost nurse with a search for a new purpose and a goal, a purpose she had found in John.

With a slight smile he pushed open the metal door and stepped into the operations room not the best but it was enough, ,,Morning love" he said as he saw his heart sitting on one of the operating chairs a tea in her hand and a slight smile on her lips as she returned his words.

The two of them engaged in the kind of light small talk they always did as they went through the files together, she occasionally nodding to him when he didn't get to things and he gave her a kiss, ,,What would I do without you?" he murmured, seeing her wry smile as they put on the blue surgical apron together and turned to the body on the table.

It was a minor procedure, almost like a daily routine back at the hospital, but he didn't see her smile as she sighed as she looked at the scalpel and put it back in the tray.

,,Is everything okay? Are you unwell?" he asked immediately, circling the table and trying to prop her up to look for signs of pain but she just shook her head, ,,No…not so Lawrence everything here…can you keep it up with them?" she asked, settling into the chair and looking up into his bright eyes that gazed at her.

A look of guilt crossed his gaze for a moment before he took her hand and stroked it gently, ,,It's not easy, not even for me at first…but darling, I see it as the only thing I have left. We can't go back without being eaten by each other," he gave the harsh reply that told the truth, but she knew that if they turned themselves in they would never get back together and sooner or later would be executed or die in prison.

Releasing her hand from his, she hid her face in her hands knowing he was right and yet, ,,Isn't there something we can do?" she asked, hearing the twitching of the stick and the slight squeak of his prosthesis as he knelt in front of her, roughly sunken, taking both her hands and leaving kisses on them.

He was relieved to see that she no longer looked like she was about to cry, he always kissed her when she was feeling bad, ,,When we're done with this one, why don't we go into hiding? Just the two of us together waiting somewhere trying to get through it together…with you together we can do anything yes?" he asked leaning his head against hers for a moment.

Feeling how hard it was for her to get hope sometimes but when he saw her nod as she gave him a kiss and stood up to help him up and he took her in his arms they both managed to gather hope. Hiding didn't have to be out of fear, it could also be a no new beginning a beginning together for their love and hope.

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

Adam

The music boomed in his ears as the itars and drums tried to combine with the shrill sound of snoring, each louder than the other as Adam was out of the bus, the bag of groceries in his hand swaying back and forth, the cigarette between his lips judging him and the metal music on his ears making him moan from time to time or just bob his head slightly to feel the dancing.

The camera hanging around his neck had taken the latest photos, one assignment after another he always got from John every week, always from the same man…he knew why.

He knew that as soon as the photos were finished, it would soon mean the death of the photographed person, but he barely entertained this thought in his head, he was too used to it.

Walking up the stairs of the old apartment building past the same door and people, he found his door and unlocked it, ,,Honey! I'm back!" he called inside and closed the door behind him but got no answer.

At first he thought she was asleep, he put down his food and put out his cigarette before he looked for her in the living room and bedroom but she wasn't there.

He checked the bathroom to see if she was in the bath but she wasn't there either, ,,Honey?" he asked in amazement and heard a rustling sound, knowing that this paper-like rustling sound could only come from one room, the enlarged storage room, the place where he developed his photos.

Adam went there and actually found her standing in front of the photos thinking she was going to develop a few more while he was gone but instead she just stared at them, ,,Hey is everything okay?" he asked as he heard a sniffle and saw her flinch, seemingly trying to wipe away tears and turn to him.

Despite everything you could see that she had wept, cried a lot maybe for hours he didn't know but immediately his heart tightened, ,,No Adam…it's not all his fault…these photos I-I can't do it anymore…it's like a death sentence" she mumbled and held the photos out to him seeing how he was torn.

He knew they needed the money otherwise they risked being arrested, there was little other option but he also knew that his love for her meant more to him than the money or the prospect of something better, letting the pictures sail to the ground he grabbed her hand and pulled her close.

He pulled her into a kiss her hands wrapped around him holding on to him, ,,Thank you Adam…I know we'll find something but please stop" she said putting her hand on his cheek he could see he was fighting tears, he himself knew what they were doing was wrong he knew they would find something else and until then they would make it together.

It touched him how much she cared for him too, ,,No thank you darling I love you and we can do this…I promise I'll stop" he said pressing a kiss to her forehead and pulling her into a warm embrace holding her until their tears had dried and he lightened the mood when he announced that he had brought muffins which they ate together on the couch wrapped in a blanket.

But most of all they were not only cheerful but happy, happy to at least have another morning without playing judgement on a person they would never meet, they had each other and that was all that mattered.

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

@megustadilf , @magmabayvi , @faultlessheart , @blackbunnymayw , @s1lut4adamstanheight , @icarus-star

[3amfanfiction]

It's Just Dinner pt 3

John needs another date and Kyle is very convincing. MDNI cw: gazlighting, manipulation, forced prostitution 2.8k First || Previous

Thankfully the next few weeks pass quietly. There's no surprise dates, no uncomfortable conversations. Just you and Kyle, like it used to be.

You're tentatively relaxing into the rhythm when the next bombshell goes off.

Kyle's running around, getting ready to head to base early in the morning, talking to you over his shoulder when you hear, "Price has an opera he needs to see with one of the brass this weekend and he needs a date. I told him you were free," finishing with his shoes he grabs a jacket, coming over to give you a dirty kiss complete with a healthy grasp of your ass. "We'll go shopping when I get back," —assured, nonchalant, just another day.

No. No! You're not doing this again!

"Kyle! You can't just volunteer me—"

"Bye, babe!" echos through the entryway as the door slams shut.

Conversation over.

///

You fumed for hours. How dare he? How DARE he? Did he think you were a child he could make decisions for? Absolutely not.

You were ready for him now.

You'd spent all day preparing and when Kyle got home tonight you were going to sit him down and you were going to be firm. You weren't going to let him talk over you, you were going to stand your ground tell him you wouldn't be going on any more dinner dates with John Price.

Simple.

But as with any battle plan, it only lasted through the first encounter.

"Why are you acting like this?" Kyle frowned, not understanding. You crossed your arms defensively where you were standing in the bedroom, having followed him in when he got home. Why did you feel defensive?

You watched him pause, holding his t shirt in one hand as he looked over to you, head tilted in confusion. "You said you'd go, I already told him you agreed." He stepped towards you, dropping his shirt back in the drawer before stopping a short distance away, "you can't back out now babe, he's already booked the reservations."

Stop. Take a breath. You're not going to lose your temper.

"I never said I'd go, Kyle."

"Yes you did!" he insisted, eyes wide in disbelief, rolling right over your moment of breathing, "I was standing next to the kitchen table this morning—putting on my shoes—and you said yes."

He took a small step, bridging the distance between the two of you.

"Are you feeling okay, love?" his concerned voice made annoyed pinpricks creep up your spine. "You've been awful stressed lately. Is something going on at work? Anything you want to talk about?"

For one moment you imagined dumping it all on his shoulders, hysterically yelling, I'm pretty sure your boss tried to kiss me! to see what he would do with the information.

Kyle lifted his hands to cup your face, rubbing your noses together gently before you could do anything hasty. "We're partners . . . you know I've always got you, right?"

And just like that, the annoyance dissipated.

"I know, Kyle. That isn't what this is about," you reassured, leaning into his warm calloused palms, taking strength from his presence. "I just don't want to go to an opera this weekend."

You never brought up the half-kiss John had pressed to the corner of your mouth. After your bathroom pep talk you had met back up with him and he behaved himself for the rest of the night—there was no reason to worry Kyle about it.

But it still festered in the back of your mind.

His brow furrowed while he looked disappointingly at you, "Love, it would look really bad if I had to go back to my superior officer and say, 'sorry sir, she changed her mind, we can't help you.' It puts me in a bad spot when he's counting on us, on you, for the night."

His expression turned sad, "I wish you wouldn't have agreed if you had reservations about this."

Did you agree? He seems so certain, remembers it so clearly, maybe you did indicate acceptance somehow this morning, unwittingly.

"No—no I didn't agree, or at least, that's not what I meant," you capitulate, giving ground, shoulders rounding ever so slightly.

You have been stressed lately.

Maybe he's right.

He pulled away to frown down at you, "why are you so against going to dinner this time? Last time you were excited to go."

"I wasn't excited Kyle," you stammered, "I told you I wasn't sure about all this."

"No babe, you told me you were nervous," he pauses to smile at you as if you were in on a secret together, "after all Price is a handsome man and anyone would be nervous to have his full attention on them," you firmly don't think about the swoop in your stomach when he had cupped the back of your neck, the static shock that skated up your spine when his lips brushed yours, ever so slightly.

"—but then you had a great time." you focus back on what Kyle is saying, pulling your wandering mind under control, "I don't understand why you're being so skittish about this now."

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest before shuffling the both of you over to the bed. Sitting, he moved you into his lap, chest to chest so he could look into your eyes.

"Are you sure no one said or did anything?" His voice dripped with sincerity, looking for something to fix, some way to help, "You know you're my best girl, right? I wouldn't let anything happen to you."

Fuck. How do you keep messing this up? Now you're sitting here crying as Kyle promises to protect you. Should you just tell him? Get it over with, off your chest. Would that unlock the chain that was dragging you down? You wanted it to go back to how it was before.

No. You weren't a child and you didn't need to be babied. Nothing truly happened so there was nothing to tell Kyle.

But without telling him, you didn't have a valid reason for not going this time.

So you sat there in silence, unable to give ground any further. After a few moments of this, Kyle continued, tone lowered —assured, "Who's always looking out for you? Making sure that you're safe and you're happy, hmm?" he used his thumb to wipe away the tear tracks on your face.

"You," you assure quickly. This at least came easier, "but Kyle, this is—"

"Pet," stern, direct, "you're getting all twisted up in this when you don't need to be. You trust me right? You know I'm always doing whats best for us?" he holds your gaze, forehead pressed against yours, watching every flick of your eyes. "I love you more than I ever thought possible, but if you don't trust me . . . that's a hard thing to come back from, you know?"

"I do! I do trust you Kyle, I'm sorry. I don't know why I feel this way," rushed, pleading.

"I told you, even though you're my best girl, your head still gets in the way. We need to turn that pretty brain off, don't we?" He kisses you sweetly, as if you're everything he could ever want. "I've got us, baby. I wouldn't steer wrong."

Breathe.

"Okay," you give in after one more moment of resistance, tired of the pushing and pulling, the cyclical conversations, "okay, I'll go. But this is the last time, do you hear me Kyle Garrick?" You pulled back to show him your no nonsense face, "I'm not doing this again."

Kyle laughs as if you'd stomped your foot in assertion, something too cute to ever be taken seriously, "I hear you, babe. Thank you for coming around to see my side of things," he squeezes you to his chest, your face tucked into the warmth of his neck, "you're going to have a great time, you'll see."

He leans away to take you in, "How are you so wonderful? I feel like I must've saved an orphanage from a fire or something to have gotten you in my life."

Smiling at you as if he could see the universe in your eyes, "it's you and me, right sweetheart?" he questions, a child looking for benediction.

"You and me," you assure, disquiet bubbling softly in the back of your mind.

///

You saw John before he saw you.

He was standing in the foyer, looking at his phone, dressed to the nines.

His snug black suit emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, biceps bulging at the seams. His button down shirt tucked into his pants emphasized his thick waist, the muscles of his core covered by a healthy layer of fat.

His thick gold rings caught the light from above as he swiped through his phone—

Was that your living room on his screen?

The thought was derailed almost as soon as it formed due to John noticing you. He turned with a beaming smile as he locked his phone and slid it into a pocket. Holding his arms open he ushered you into a hug.

The smell of his cologne was earthy, loamy—it curled up in your nose and sunk its tendrils into your brain. How did he always smell so good?

Tensing slightly as his arms closed around you, he did no more than press a firm kiss high on your cheekbone. "You are a vision, my dear," John said in awe, pulling back slightly to take you in from head to toe. "Every time I see you, you end up more stunning. How is that possible?"

You laugh, charmed despite yourself. It's hard to keep up walls when John Price is looking at you like that, "You're too sweet, John," you demure, intending to have a good time tonight, "shall we find our seats?"

///

Several hours later, when the night was all but over while waiting for your car, you don't notice at first that John has taken a step closer. You're too distracted by the chill breeze that has sprung up, attempting to keep your skirt where it belongs.

You realize how close he had gotten when his hand comes up to brush against the skin of your jaw, fingers trailing softly as if dragging against spun gold.

Something precious. Something treasured.

You inhale shakily, unsure of where this was leading but wanting to stop. To take a step back onto stable ground.

"John—" is as far as he lets you get before his mouth covers yours, his other hand coming up to cradle your face in his palms while he devoured your mouth.

Because there was nothing timid or hesitant about this kiss. He claimed with it. His tongue pressing into your mouth at the first sign of weakness—the smallest gasp you couldn't control.

His fingers tightened against the side of your head as he groaned, angled down from above, making sure he was all you could see, all you could hear.

After what felt like years he pulled away, panting like he'd just ran a race, "Fuck me, sweetheart, but you taste even better than I'd hoped."

You stand there, eyes wide as you hold onto his wrists, one hand covering the smooth face of his watch. "You—you kissed me," you murmured, only just loud enough to be heard, "you can't kiss me, John."

He smiled as if you said something cute before pulling you back in. His lips had just brushed yours when you wrenched your head back, desperate to put space between the two of you.

"No, John," shaky but as determined as you could make it. You watch as something rises from the depths behind his eyes. A leviathan observing you, deciding where to bite first, where to grab as he pulls you into his depths, his maw closing around you . . .

Only for it to sink back below the surface, John's blue eyes clearing once more.

"Of course, of course, you're right doll, we shouldn't be doing that here." He continues talking over your spluttered here? as if you never said anything.

"There's your car anyways," the brakes squeak ever so lightly behind you, the thrum of the engine filling the night air, "you be good, sweetheart." A smile as John steps back, holding your door open for you. You climb in quickly, not wanting to spend any longer in his presence than needed.

John looms over the open doorway, forearms braced against the roof, "until next time." He winks at you before shutting the door, a soft double tap on the roof his notice to the driver.

As the car pulled away from the curb your thoughts began to spiral and you started to hyperventilate.

You had to tell Kyle now, you should've told him before but you can't go changing the past.

As soon as you get home you'll sit him down and talk to him. You'll tell him everything.

You ignore your slick thighs and the pressure of your underwear on your throbbing clit.

///

You made the car drive around the block—twice—before you worked up the courage to go inside.

Time to face the music.

"He kissed me, Kyle," you say, bracing for the explosion. You were still reeling from the evening, light tremors shaking your limbs, making your knees feel like they were knocking together.

You know you have to tell him everything, you can't keep something like this quiet. You have to lay it all out and hope he doesn't lose his mind.

Kyle froze. You watch him swallow, noticing his pupils expanding to eclipse the brown of his eyes. You hoped it wasn't in rage.

He quickly gathered himself as youlet out a broken sob and launched yourself at him, tears already streaming down your face.

You cried into his chest, latched onto him in search of strength. He pressed soft shh shh's against the top of your head, cradling you close to him, trying to coax you to breathe.

Eventually you were able to draw in a semi-steady breath without it immediately devolving into a sob and found yourself apologizing to Kyle, "I'm so sorry, I don't know why he kissed me—" breaking off into another wet hiccup.

"None of that now, you're making it a bigger deal than it needs to be," Kyle promised sternly, squeezing you tightly to him, "I know it's not your fault, you did nothing wrong." He soothes you when that causes another round of sobbing to begin.

"I'll talk to him tomorrow," he announces quietly, with a somber air, once the tears began to peter off. "It might cause some . . . friction on the task force but if it's made you this upset then I'll handle it."

Why? Why does John have to be Kyle's boss?

It made everything so complicated.

If it were anyone else, you'd be able to trust Kyle to set them straight, no concerns about consequences. But with John . . . he had control over Kyle's life. Is a kiss worth it? Is anything worth risking Kyle's life?

No.

You'd decided before that you wouldn't risk bad blood between them. You held onto that decision even now, even as things have gotten heavier, more complicated.

You bury deeper into Kyle's chest, arms wrapped as tightly as possible around him, "No, I don't want to cause trouble for you at work."

"Doll, it's no-"

"No, you were right, I'm making it a bigger deal than needed. I was just worried, that's all."

He hunched down to rest his chin on top of your head, "worried about what?" he presses.

"Just that . . . that you're saying it's okay when it's really not. I don't want you to be upset with me." Your eyes started to well up again but you blinked furiously, trying to keep the tears from falling down your cheeks.

He slips an arm free to tilt your chin up, angling your face towards his, eyes locked so you have no way of hiding from him and what he's about to say.

"I'm not upset with you and you did absolutely nothing wrong," holding your gaze, chin firmly grasped. "Do you think I care about the captain kissing you?" —amused, placating almost— "I care because you care, love," he looked down to your lips, pursed slightly from the pressure of his grip.

"Here," quiet, sensual, "I'll show you."

When he pulled you into the kiss it was warm coffee on a cold morning, it was waking up to realize you have an hour left on your alarm, it was the house lights being on when you get home at night.

It was comfort.

You chase after him slightly when he pulls away, wanting to continue. He smiled and gives you another peck. "You taste," he murmurs, lips brushing yours with every word, "utterly delicious."

You pant softly, waiting for him to press into you again. He smiles and gives another soft kiss, "chapstick and cigar smoke taste perfect from your lips."

Next

Story Repository || Main Repository

[daydreamerwoah]

Love Through It All Pt. 12

tw: mentions of cheating, mentions of divorce; hurt; angst; anger; rollercoaster of emotion; sadness; arguing; crying; depression; mentions of therapy/counseling; brief mention of sexual content; kidnapping

Please read Part 1 for my author notes for the beginning of this story if this is your first time here.

Eventually, your eyes fluttered open, looking down at your lap. Your head was swimming and hurting equally, and you felt like you had been hit by a car or something. When you raised your head up, the feeling only intensified, making you groan a little. Glancing around, you could make out that you were in a medium-sized room that had a table, a few chairs, a small TV on the wall, and a door that stood out in front of you.

You were about to stand up, but the moment you tried moving your arms and legs, you realized you were tied to a chair with ropes wrapped around your ankles and the legs of it, while your hands were tied behind you and the back of the chair.

What the-?

Suddenly, the flash memory of almost reaching your apartment but feeling arms grab you tightly rushed through your mind at all once. You remembered being thrown into a vehicle, something sharp touching you, but that was it. What happened after that?

You tried wiggling your body against the restraints, but they were so tight you knew it would probably leave bruises. Panic began to set in as you hastily looked around the room once more for something.. anything to help you.

"Easy there," a voice said behind you.

Your body tensed, scared to even turn your head to look back or respond to the voice. But it didn't matter. Heavy boots slowly made their way around your sitting figure before standing right in front of you. The moment your eyes glanced up, you wanted to pass out again.

No.

"W-what is...this?" you asked, voice dry.

Jax, standing in front of you with an excited, menacing expression on his face, chuckled, "This?.. Well, I can't give all my secrets out. That'll ruin the fun... You know you're weaker than I thought," he smirked.

Your eyebrows furrowed, making him chuckle once more at you before walking around you in a circle like a lion ready to attack its prey.

You tried not to sound scared, but how could you? "What do you want?"

Walking over to the table and leaning over it, he placed his arms on the table, eyeing you up and down, "There's the question I was looking for," he exclaimed, "You pick up quick Mrs. Riley." The way he said your last name had your heart dropping to your stomach before your mind could even register it. "This is where you help me out." He paused, walking back over to stand in front of you again, "I want you to call your husband. Tell him to come here-"

"No," you cut him, "I'm not doing that. Whatever the fuck you have against him- if you're so mad, why won't you talk to somebody about it." You tried wiggling out of the ropes again.

A wicked snicker escaped his lips, "Oh darlin'... it was never about just me having something against him. He has to pay for what he did to us."

Confusion ran across your face, "You mean Williams?"

That got a barked laugh from him that echoed throughout the room, making you try to free yourself once more. You didn't like the way he thought it was funny you asked that question.

"You think this is about her?" It was like he couldn't stop laughing, "It was never about that slut who wanted to shag every man that even looked her way.... although she was amusing. But she was not very helpful."

Utterly confused. That's what you were. The first time Jax even approached you, he got in your face, upset about Simon. Upset that Simon was the one who sent that girl away. Now he spoke as if none of that mattered, and you only continued to wiggle your body so much you were about to cry.

"Let me go!" you yelled.

He clicked his tongue a couple of times, "You know that's not how this works, right?" He teased.

"Please... just let me go!"

"Call your husband." He demaned

Now you were getting mad and desperate, "Fuck you! I'm not helping you!"

"Yeah?... Not even to say goodbye?" Your eyes widened, making that stupid smirk form on his face again, "You see... I didn't want it to come to this. But you really left me no choice... you should have left Ghost the day I talked to you. Would've been easier for all of us... especially the boss man."

He walked to the door, banging on it with his fist before coming back to stand in front of you. The door opened, and another set up of footsteps was heard walking into the room, but you couldn't see who it was since Jax's body was blocking your view at first. But when they finally approached you saw who it was, and you felt the bile in your stomach run up to your throat.

"Hm... you look even better scared than you did the other night," he said a very small smirk on his face before he frowned.

"Mrs. Riley... I'm sure you've met my friend, Andrei, here. I know you two," he eyed you up and down in disgust, "got very close a few nights ago."

You wanted to fucking lurch out of the chair. You were breathing so quick it felt like you were almost hyperventilating as you looked back at the blue eyes of the man you let go down on you not even three nights ago. You hated the memories that swam through your mind of drinking at the bar with him and going to his room.

Andrei leaned against the table with his arms crossed and a neutral - almost bored - expression on his face as he looked at you. Completely opposite of how he did when he sat down at the bar next to you.

"Now," Jax said, making you look at him, "We can make it hard for you..." he said as he pulled a pistol out from behind his shirt, "or you can call your husband."

Was he really going to shoot you? Probably. You didn't know. But the way that both of the men looked at you most certainly told you they had no problem doing it. You thought Jax was this young soldier who was jealous of Simon; jealous of his rank or something... But something deep down told you it was more than that... and you had only two choices: Sacrifice yourself so nothing would happen to your husband, or call him.

************************************************************************

It had been weeks since Simon went to the gym. His usual 4-days a week routine had been reduced to nothing the night after he left you in the apartment. And now his body was paying for it as he did bench presses.

A little over a month had passed since he saw you or even talked to you. The first week when you didn't show up for the counseling session with him, he almost wanted to break the damn couch in the chaplain's office. But he knew it was no use... Lt Jones reminded him that what he did had consequences. And since you had decided to stop showing up for therapy, Simon used that time to meet with the chaplain twice a week. He talked about everything that happened, everything he thought about, and everything that he wanted to do to make it right in the future with you..... if you even decided to take him back.

Though he was worried, he also was on the verge of wanting to do anything to make you happy. If that meant getting the divorce papers, then he would. He even started planning on how he would make sure to go off the grid so you wouldn't fear running into him ever again if you said you wanted the divorce.

The only people he talked to that entire time were Kyle, Price, and Johnny.

Johnny - being the best bud ever - let Simon stay at his place and sleep on the couch. Most nights, they stayed up just watching football and drinking beers, but other nights, Johnny listened to Simon talk about his feelings... even if it were just a couple of words he said. He had never seen his lieutenant look so... defeated, crushed, and depressed. The usual stoic demeanor changed to that of a man who was ready to jump off a cliff. And couldn't help it... he was honestly worried about his friend.

Price and Kyle were worried as well. The Captain almost ordering for the man to take a leave until things were resolved between you two.

"Still here L.T.?" Johnny asked Simon as he walked up to the man who had just finished his bench presses.

Simon hummed, leaning down to grab his water bottle and taking a sip, "Need somethin' Johnny?"

He shrugged, "Thought we could all go to the pub right off base. Catch a match tonight? You need to get out the apartment mate," He asked. He was being cautious... Simon hadn't really gone out anywhere the last month except to work.

A nervous feeling set in his stomach. The last time he went out was to look for you at the club. He couldn't help but be a little anxious at the thought of running into you somewhere. But maybe that would be a good thing... he could at least see if you were alright if he even saw you. So he agreed... reluctantly so, before heading back to Johnny's place to take a shower and put on more comfortable clothes while the rest of the group headed to the pub.

After he laced up his second boot, his phone rang in his jacket pocket. When he pulled it out, his heart skipped about three beats as he saw your name light up on his screen.

Were you calling to tell him to come home? Or that you were wanting the divorce papers? He swallowed the lump in his throat as his answered the call.

"Hey," he said. God even just the thought of hearing your voice had him in shambles.

"H-hi... uh how are you?" you asked, seeming just as nervous.

He let out a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding in, "Good. You?"

"I'm... good," you paused for a moment, "I-I wanted to know if we could talk."

The tone in your voice made him internally shiver. You didn't sound happy or even sound like you were thinking as hopeful as he was.

"Course." He said as he waited for you to continue.

It felt like minutes had passed before you spoke again, but he was just eager. He wanted to hear your voice again. Hell, he wanted to pull you into a hug, get down on his knees and beg you to forgive him.

"Uh, I thought about this song today. It reminded me of you," you softly said, making Simon's world completely stop.

Time and everything else stood still.. So still that he thought his heart stopped beating completely.

When you first started dating, Simon always made sure you knew that if anything were to ever happen to you, that was the sentence you would tell him. It would let him know that if you were ever around someone and couldn't yell out that you needed help, you would tell him that you thought about a song that reminded you of him.

He tried to keep calm, he really did. But so many thoughts were running through his mind. Had you been captured this whole time? Where were you? What had you needing to say that?

"Yeah?" he said, his voice calm even though his insides were shaking, "What song?" It never mattered what song you said. You knew to pick any song at random, and you did, making him hum.

Another long pause came from you, frightening him for a moment, "Can we meet somewhere?" you sniffed, something he immediately noticed, "Maybe talk in person?"

The trained soldier that he was, your husband picked up on why you asked to meet him. He had conducted plenty of trainings in his career, one being hostage situations. And the thought of knowing you were being held as one almost sent him through the fucking roof. Still, he sounded as if he was unemotional about all of this; that it was just another conversation with you.

"Where?"

As you told him the place where to meet you, Simon wrote down the address and description of it before you said bye to him over the phone. He didn't even wait as he sent the information over to Johnny in a text message. He didn't even know if the sergeant would see it in time, as he knew they probably were already drinking and enjoying the football match. But he didn't care. His main priority was you, and he rushed out of the apartment with the only thought in his mind.

Okay... how are we liking the twist with Jax in it? I know reader is going through it! I'm so glad you all are still reading and liking the story! Especially everyone who is ready to beat up Simon lol! I'm right there with you! But I appreciate you sticking around to still read and enjoy :)

Like, comment, send feedback <3

Taglist: @kalypsoox @fruitymoonbeams-blogz @kylies-love-letter @xrosegoldwolfx @linaaaaa654 @jessicab1991 @darkravenqueen98 @yazyazali @thychuvaluswife @chloeforde @cownini @ssc7514

[greensagephase]

Just realized how much I love the way you write your Miguel. Like instead of oversexualizing, making him animalistic or just straight up a dick (even tho he kindof is sometimes, let's be honest-)

I just love how you dive in his current trauma (not too long ago his mom got zombified like marvel give bro a break plz), include trust issues and his mental problems, while not breaking his character. You made him stubborn, a little proud, but still show slight vulnerability, and so many unsaid words. Hell, you might be one of the best Miguel writers I've ever seen on here!

I love the slow burn in NC, it makes Miguel seem more like a real person, with unbearable trauma and trust issues, who's main way to 'cope' is "by leading a society of Peter Parkers who can't pay their rent on time" (from the ATSV artbook), and as someone with a mental health too similar to Miguel's I can see myself in him (THAT'S A COMPLIMENT) with a slow build of trust

While I sometimes do enjoy a bit of smut, most of the time, it's too fast. Too quick, like- CALM DOWN LADIES (and gents), I DON'T THINK MIGUEL'S GONNA EAT YOU OUT ON THE COUNTER IN THE KITCHEN LIKE EMPANADAS

ALSO DID U KNO HE'S BI???

Hiii, Dino!!! Thank you for the ask, pookie!! 🥰 Also, I'm sorry for taking a few days to answer your ask. I took a few days off tumblr due to life :))

But omg, thank you!! I appreciate the kind words so much, and I’m happy that you love NC!Miguel and the slow burn! 🥹 Also, I’m glad you appreciate the acknowledgement of Miguel’s issues, traumas, and mental state within the fic. I’m no expert; no psychologist nor professional writer, but as the story expanded, I decided that I’d like to dive into Miguel’s story a little more, this being a Spider-Man Miguel fic after all, and one that’s attempting to portray Miguel as realistic as possible (or at least the way I see him and think he’d be like), so that entails including his issues, traumas, and mental state, too.

I know this has led to some chapters being a little delicate, overwhelming, and/or sad (and I’m sorry to anyone who has ever felt down or cried reading NC because they resonated with this content, or the emotions got a little too much. This has never been my intention ):), but I believe it’s important to address, especially because his issues, traumas, and mental state overall are big contributors to his behaviour and mindset in ATSV. As I said, I’m no expert, but just from what I learned in college and have learned throughout the years with personal experiences (seen close people dealing with similar issues like those Miguel has faced and is facing), I know healing from such traumas is important to move forward with life. I also know it takes time, which is a big reason why this fic is a slow burn.

I want Miguel to find himself in a healthy and positive mindset, learn to trust others, and know that he is worthy of love and friendships before he finds himself in a romantic relationship. I’ve yapped too much, but I’m glad that you appreciate that, even though these can be sensitive themes/discussions. Thank you! Also, I’m touched that you can see yourself in NC!Miguel and how he slowly begins to allow himself to trust someone. I hope that as the story progresses, you can continue to see yourself in him in a non-harmful way (I never wish to portray mental health negatively nor disrespect/offend someone)! 💖

And hehehe, your comment about the smut and empanadas has me laughing! 🤣 But I hope you can find more fics with a slower pace regarding that aspect though! I know there’s awesome and talented writers who continue to write for Miguel on here that feed my delusions about this man and post very regularly (thank you Miguel writers - ily 🥰), so keep your eyes open and support what you enjoy reading!!

ALSO, yes, but also no?? I saw a tweet a very long time ago of Oscar Isaac apparently saying Miguel was bi, but idk if it’s canon because I haven’t read any of the comics 😞 (all the plot lines within NC that align with the comics have been researched from other sources). Is it confirmed in the comics? :))

Thank you so much for the ask!! I hope you’re having a great day/night, Dino!! Pls take care!! 🫶🏼💖

Alondra❤️

[shadowetienne]

I am putting biases from the same group in the same poll so that I get a little bit less of well that's our overlap group, so I'm going to default to voting for that member and a little bit more do we bias the same people in groups. (Note: I know that in some cases I bias like half the group, no, I'm not going to narrow it down further.)

While this is not an exhaustive list of all my biases in all groups ever, I'm getting the point where I don't have as strong of opinions on active groups that I have biases on, so I'm just going to do 10 faves from disbanded and not active groups and leave it here.

[sysig]

DAX is just so expressive ♥ (Patreon)

[blackvahana]

Yeah. Man. I'm just sitting here remembering I've been doing this my entire life. I feel like there was a patch I wasn't, part of the teen years, and that's either I've forgotten because trauma orrrr something else but

No wonder I've never felt anchored on this plane. But it doesn't matter, well, no, it matters a lot, but this life is just constantly isolating in how it works so I will keep the talk of not fitting in here and what being weirdly one got in one foot out has done to talking to myself lmfao but... I remember. I remember being in the garden as a really young child and I'm not a young child. I'm this chimaeric fairy-type thing of swirling and bulging colours like a psychedelic faceted-insect-eye's led trip, four or more wings of different types that are again, so ungrounded, so psychedelic, vivid. Not uncertain. Not half-formed. Fully formed, the starbeing in me just barely contained in the shape of the human-pretending-to-be-a-fae it's pretending to be

I remember so much, actually, and it's. it's just weirdly melancholic....? Maybe not melancholic, but it's so sad and I don't know why. Actually. I mean I've been trying to piece it together for like twenty minutes now but... People get a little irritated at me for being very "you don't understand and no one sees me" but like. I have lived an entire life walkinv streets where no one sees me. It's very complicated, there's. mental health stuff in there because of course I've come across a lot of spirits but I have bad issues seeing people as real but like. Man yeah no I am a snail and one part of me can be physically seen but the other has always been on the other side

[mangobubletea]

losing my mind over the latest jjk opening and ending