#and every once in a while we have to give it another little skull

[eringobragh420]

🖤 Pairing — Damian Priest ♥︎ f!Reader ♥︎ Roman Reigns 🖤 Summary — Reader has been sleeping with both Damian and Roman Reigns, confident they’re ignorant of one another. After being invited to Damian's hotel room late one night, she discovers he’s not the only one she’s there to entertain. 🖤 Word Count — 2.4k 🛑 Warnings — NSFW. Oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v/a, anal, double penetration, praise, Daddy kink, name-calling, cum 18+ 🖤 Taglist — In the comments. If you’d like to be added, please click here! 🖤 Requested By — @bearbutlikeprincessbear. Hope you enjoy! 🖤 MASTERLIST, KINK LIST

When she first began sleeping with Roman Reigns, she never expected, had any interest, or even needed to seek out other suitors. Until Damian Priest came along at the club, wrapping an arm around her waist and leading her to the dance floor where their bodies moved in synchronicity, their skin perspired, and he whispered the absolute filthiest things in her ear as she was grinding her hips into his. And so while entertaining Roman, she made the easy decision to also see Damian on the side. Nothing wrong with it—none of them were attached and none of them were interested in long-term relationships—so she never foresaw any issues, considering the Tribal Chief was on one brand and the Archer of Infamy was on another, which would give them no reason to ever cross paths. Unfortunately for her, she’d been so blinded by the all the fucking, she’d failed to consider the paid live events.

And so here she was, on her knees and elbows on a generic hotel bed with generic, scratchy hotel blankets under her. Her baby pink blazer and white satin tank top were heaps on the floor, matching mini-skirt bunched around her waist, panties in tatters around her thighs. Damian’s long cock buried itself in her tight cunt every few seconds, the momentum shoving her forward and impaling her throat further on Roman’s spit-covered, thick cock. She gagged, body convulsing, but she purred from the intrusion—on both ends—as her eyes rolled back and her cheeks hollowed.

“Fuck,” Damian wailed, hands vices on her hips. “Every time she gags, her cunt fuckin’ milks my dick.”

“You hear that, baby girl?” Roman rumbled. He was seated in front of her, back against the headboard, legs spread lewdly, a woman receiving the pounding of the century from behind slobbering all over his cock. She tilted her head so she could comfortably look up at him. “He likes it when you gag almost as much as I do.” Both his hands cradled the back of her skull as he pushed her down on his length once more, her entire being again contracting, and suddenly Damian wasn’t inside her anymore and she felt abandoned and empty and a little fucking pissed off. 

“Uh-uh,” the Puerto Rican refused. She pulled off Roman’s dick, however reluctantly, and glanced over her shoulder. Damian had backed up several steps and he had a hand virtually strangling his polished-with-pussy-juices cock. “If we’re gonna do this, we gotta do it now.”

Roman tenderly cupped her chin between his fingers and turned her face back to him. “You ready?”

She cast her gaze down at Roman’s weeping, rigid cock as he stroked it with a loose fist, and she bucked her hips and clenched her pussy around nothing. Roman’s chuckle was like thunder in the distance, and it did nothing to suppress her agitation or prevent the baby pterodactyls in her stomach from taking flight. She had no idea what awaited her, having never experienced before what was about to happen, but she couldn’t deny how bad she wanted to at least try it … to at least attempt to get both these impressive cocks inside her ass and pussy at the same time. And she couldn’t think of two better men to experience it with. Her blown pupils slowly lifted to meet Roman’s.

“Yes, Daddy,” she whispered.

“Good,” Roman replied, before the declaration was even completely out of her mouth. He leaned forward so his fleshy lips grazed hers as he finished, “Because it’s this dick right here that’s goin’ in that ass.” He wiggled his cock for good measure, and it wasn’t very quiet when she gulped.

The men were fluid as they moved about the room, as if they’d practiced, as if maybe they’d done this before. Heading off any thoughts in that particular direction, she smiled as she climbed atop Damian. His grip was once again on her hips, and her hips throbbed and she might’ve winced a time or two when he squeezed, but she knew this pain paled in comparison to the new kind of pain that was in her immediate future. She sank torturously slowly onto his cock, her soaking pussy sucking him in deep much like her throat had with Roman’s dick.

“There she is,” Damian breathed, fingers gliding from her hip, tickling her belly, scraping a nipple barely peeking above the cup of the bra she still curiously wore, ending their journey at the back of her neck. He pulled her lips to his, capturing them, imprisoning them with his expert technique and unmatched ability to be both delicate and voracious simultaneously. A cold trickle slipped down the crack of her ass, her body froze, and she severed the kiss. Damian was quick to cradle her face and focus her attention on him and not the pain and discomfort about to befall her. Maybe you should stop thinking about it that way. Maybe it’s gonna feel amazing. It’s Damian and Roman, after all. “If you don’t wanna do this, we can stop right now,” Damian whispered, the tips of their noses kissing.

She gazed into his smoldering eyes, easily finding comfort and true sincerity, and her hand floated to his cheek. “I wanna do this,” she murmured.

Damian once more claimed her mouth while Roman’s finger circled her puckered hole, and it tickled and it was a little weird, but then it felt … good. Incredibly erotic, and her pussy gushed around Damian’s cock. He pumped in and out of her slowly, occupying her mouth and tongue, and before she knew it, Roman had three fingers buried in her asshole, and she was virtually screaming down Damian’s throat, rocking her hips to ride both his dick and Roman’s digits.

“Oh, your ass is ready for this cock, ain’t it?” Roman teased, easing his fingers out of her so he could slap her ass cheek with his length. “Cute little tattoo,” he uttered, now rubbing the leaking head along her sensitive skin, and she knew exactly where he was spreading his precum. She’d never even imagined a scenario where Roman and Damian randomly met at the hotel bar, shared a few drinks, and then a few stories about the women they were sleeping with only to discover those women had the exact same tattoo in the exact same spot, but here they were. “Let’s find out if it’s true, huh?” That hadn’t been the meaning behind the beautiful red script spelling out the word paradise on her right cheek, but she supposed it did seem appropriate now. She hoped, anyway.

She felt the fleshy head of his cock poke at her entrance and her hand left Damian’s face to instead dig her nails into his chest. She felt blood before she was without warning hauled backward, shoulders slamming into Roman’s sturdy chest, and she cried out as he slipped further into her passage. Roman was a true dominant, in and out of the ring, in and out of the bedroom, so it wasn’t very far fetched for her to expect to be degraded, at least a little, for not immediately being able to take his length, or for whining in pain as he pressed another inch inside her. His tattooed arm came into view, fingers applying surprisingly gentle pressure on her chin until she turned to him.

“You’re takin’ me so good,” he praised. Her eyes lifted, full of renewed hope,  determination, and pride. Compliments in a non-derisive way were few and far between, and she intended to bathe in the accolades for as long as possible. “I know it hurts, baby girl, but you’re a fuckin’ champion. You hear me? Our champion.” Her heart swelled and her fingers unconsciously slid down her body and directly into her dripping folds where she found her clit and, just a little further inward, the base of Damian’s glazed cock, the rest of which was still stuffed deeply inside her cunt. Damian grunted and squirmed, and her smile was drunk as she stared blankly at her Tribal Chief, hypnotized by Roman’s unusual softness. “See, that was nothin’.”

Snapping out of her reverie, she was overwhelmed by the sensation of being utterly full. Roman had genuinely mesmerized her with his words, with the bottomless pits that were his eyes, and he’d sheathed himself to the hilt in her ass without her noticing. Now fully aware, however, the burning returned, the splitting, and she whimpered, clawing at Roman’s arm now. Easily noticing her stress, Damian untangled her from the Samoan’s embrace and pulled her back down to him, cradling the back of her head and splaying a hand across her upper back.

“Right here,” he rumbled into her gaping mouth, “stay right here with Papi. You hear me?”

She nodded, her eyes bouncing back and forth between Damian’s soulful ones, and her lips collided with his before she knew it. He was her comfort, her weighted blanket, her favorite teddy bear, and the spell he cast on her through his lingering lips kept her mind occupied as Roman gripped her hips, pulled out, and shoved himself back in as if he were fucking her pussy. It hurt, bordering on agonizing, but Damian’s mouth was so perfect and gifted that it hurt just a little bit less, the three of them going on like this until she’d fully accepted Roman with an amount of pain that was both uncomfortable and pleasurable. 

“You love this, don’t you?” Roman panted. When she gave no answer, he snatched her hair and yanked, her lips releasing Damian’s with a wet smack.

“Yes, Daddy, I love it,” she breathed.

“Yeah, you do,” Roman mumbled. “Show me. Ride these dicks like the whore you are.”

Hands on the bed on either side of Damian, she rose until her elbows locked. Damian’s hands were coarse and callused as they traveled the invisible roads of her upper body, and she smiled down at him as she began gently rocking her hips, drawing the cocks within her ass and pussy as deep inside her as possible before releasing them to the cold air surrounding them, repeating the process until she couldn’t bounce fast enough on them. 

“That’s it,” Damian moaned, “just like that.”

“Shit, all you need is a cock for this mouth, huh?” Roman mocked, giant hand wrapping around her throat. “What you think about that, Priest? Plug up all this bitch’s holes.”

“Fuck,” Damian muttered, pinching and tugging at her nipples.

She screamed, jaw dropping, and Roman’s hand was swift in making the relocation from her neck to her face, long fingers dipping inside her mouth. Her lips automatically closed around his digits and her cheeks hollowed as she sucked because what else is a girl supposed to do when Roman Reigns sticks his fingers in her mouth?

Time went on, doused in a mixture of sweat, screams, desire, and the fundamental need to cum. Roman lost control first, hand between her shoulder blades, shoving her chest into Damian’s, and he leaned forward, most of his weight now on her hips and ass as he fucked into her recklessly. He cried out—she thought he was speaking Samoan, but she couldn’t be sure—releasing himself inside her, and his pumps became slower and less powerful until he pulled out altogether, slapping her tattoo once more with his softening dick.

“Y’all can … take care of that, right?” He had to be referring to the mess he’d just made that would eventually come leaking out of her. “I got somewhere to be.”

The relief alone she felt when only Damian was buried within her nearly sent her head first into an orgasm. It had been a wild moment, an experience she could check off her bucket list, but she’d be lying if she denied feeling a bit stressed at the thought of being responsible for pleasing two men. Of course it was a hot idea, but realistically, the logistics were a bit more muddled than she cared to deal with again. And, though she would never admit this to anyone, especially the two men involved, she preferred Damian and his attentiveness and his kindness and the gentle fucking he was famous for. Roman was the choice when she needed to be used or slapped around. Damian was the choice for everything else.

“We’ll take care of it,” Damian mumbled, and she smiled just as he seized her lips once more. 

She hardly registered the hotel room door opening and closing, Damian flipping their positions smoothly, putting her on her back and settling between her sticky thighs. Her hands glided reverently up his chest, squeezing his shoulders, continuing to his face.

“Did you have fun?” he asked, taking her hands off him one after the other, imprisoning them between his hands and the mattress on either side of her head, his grip secure, though not constricting.

“Yeah,” she purred, rolling her hips in an attempt to find some friction, and Damian grinned at her desperation. 

“But you need your special time with Papi, hmm?”

“I always need my special time with Papi.”

Finally he started fucking her, lazily at first, gradually picking up speed. She suddenly felt Roman’s warm cum begin leaking out of her ass and into a puddle on the bed, Damian’s thrusts now coming with a wet smack every time he slammed into her. She gasped, lips parting, pussy pulsating around Damian’s solid length, breasts bouncing, and she came with a wail she would be embarrassed over later. Her hands were fists as they wanted nothing more than to touch Damian, feel him, run her fingers through his hair, but he refused to release her until after he’d filled yet another one of her holes with sticky cream.

“You’re a mess,” Damian grinned, climbing out of bed. She couldn’t help the satiated smile and stretch as she watched Damian disappear into the bathroom, assuming he was on a mission to retrieve a wet washcloth. They were gonna need more than that, she thought, just as she heard the water in the tub come to life, and her smile nearly broke her mouth. “Now let’s get you cleaned up,” Damian returned, clapping his hands and holding them out. She rolled her eyes, moving into a sitting position, but Damian suddenly scooped her into his capable arms, tossing her an inch or two in the air to get a better grip. “I don’t think it’s big enough for both of us, but …”

“I guess you’ll just have to wash me from outside the tub then,” she sighed.

Damian kissed her forehead. “My pleasure.”

જ⁀➴°⋆ Papi — Daddy

[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: From Party of Two, to Family of Three

Sunday Surprise takes place right before this, but not necessary for this part

notes: you guys already know this is my favorite little crackhead family. While we've been enjoying Sarah's adventures out of order for a while, lot of people have been asking when we'll meet Ellie. Which I didn't feel it was right until we actually see Sarah's birth! So here she is. Please enjoy!

warnings: childbirth (not too graphic), a shit ton of language, comedy and fuff

- - - -

They say childbirth is a miracle. It's the single greatest, most amazing, most heavenly, life giving, breath of fresh air day of any parent’s life.

What they don't say (almost as if conveniently forgetting to even mention it) is that the moments leading up to the birth are the single most excruciating, marathon through the worst hell of a nightmare.

"YOUUU. YOUUUUUU MOTHER FUCKING--FUUCCKKEERRRR!!" The banshee (his wife, you) next to him in the car screeches directly into his ear, a death grip on his forearm.

He’s one handing these turns, blowing more red lights than he's ever yelled at Tommy for, while ready to lose his right hand to your talons and his hearing to your incessant wails.

"fuck YOU!OOOOWWAHAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"

You squeeze your eyes shut, head crouched down while another wave of contractions splinters your insides apart. Every muscle known and unknown in your body is engaged. 

"We're almost there, you’re gonna make it--"

"YouFUCKINGfuckSTICkofaFuCkFuckshitheadfuckingbastard mothershitstainfrigginFUCK!"

You'd bash his head against his window repeatedly if your other hand wasn't already occupied cupping your rupturing belly.

Joel’s never been simultaneously in control and losing it inside all at once. He’s got one goal right now: get you to the hospital in one piece.

 That goes for driver safety but also to ensure the baby does NOT come out prior that because lord help him he would not know what comes next.

The truck screeches to a halt at the parking lot in 3 spaces. Joel tumbles out of the seat, missing a step and stumbling clumsily to his hands and knees on the pavement. He doesn’t even brush off the bruises and dirt as he’s running to you. You’ve nearly thrown him over again by how fast you swing the door open.

Both his sturdy, reliable, big hands are there for you when you take them, hoisting yourself with an agonizing yelp.

“You’re gonna be okay, you’re gonna be okay, baby momma, you’re—“

“FUCK!!!!!”

You’re clutching your belly, now way lower than it ever has been. Each step feels like fire, with Joel cradling your back and trying to get you to the front door with quick steps.

“Baby! Baby now!” Joel shouts, pointing to you with wild and pleading eyes.

You let out a horrendous scream, stopping in your tracks. Your spine, your bones, your head, and especially your stomach, is all being hit by a truck right fucking now. And you’re crying, you’ve never cried like this. It’s not the fake shit he’s gotten so accustomed to when you want a cookie or milkshake or pussy eating. This is real.

They get you in a chair and wheel you off to the delivery unit, your hand squeezing the shit out of Joel’s but he’s never once let go. He’s gone so pale, running and running alongside you, trying to answer their questions about when it started, how long, what was due date, etc. 

He’s doing a million things at once, and you’re just fighting to stay alive.

Oh, you also would forget everything you were saying at this moment. But thankfully, Joel, and the entire fucking hospital, wouldn’t.

“YOU FUCKING, COCK—FUCKER—SHIT FUCKCUnt cunt CUNT! FUCK-OHM Y MOTHERFUCKING GOD FUCK.”

They manage to get you stripped to the papery gown, push your ass onto the bed, spread you wide so the doctor can take a look.

They’re all so calm, walking around and nodding, hooking you up like you’re just here for a checkup, like they’ve done this a thousand times before.

Joel feels the worst stabbing pain along his skull as your nails dig into his hair and yank him down to your face.

“MILLER,” you seethe, venom and sweat breaking through your clenched teeth and slitted eyes. 

“Y-yes?”

You force out harsh pants, groaning, but making sure he understands you clearly right fucking now. “Give me. A fucking. Epidural.”

“I-“

“NOW!!!!”

He looks around for some assistance. “Ep—is there an--”

“WHERES THE FUCKING EPIDURAL.”

Joel makes contact with the nurse, who checks below your legs again before resurfacing with the look Joel feared above all else. While you’re heaving and and moaning in pain, Joel receives the nonverbal confirmation she passes to him:

It’s too fucking late for an epidural.

Both Joel and the nurse also pass a clear, mutual understanding about how to pass that info on to you:

“ITS COMING!” He nods reassuringly to you, exceedingly over the top acting. “Right nurse? See she said it’s coming!”

“Any second now, we’ll get that epidural—“ she agrees, nodding and nodding with a thumbs up to you extra confidence.

“FUUUUCCCCKCKKKKKK,” you sink lower, back falling and head tossed as wave of new pain ripples through you.

“FUUCCKKING —Fuck J-Joel. Joel Miller—“

“yes baby, I’m here.”

“Im getting a fucking epidural.”

“Yes you fucking are.”

“You fuckers aren’t lying to me?”

Joel glances at the nurse again, who quickly shakes her head at you with her calm, straightforward, trusting voice of reason: “No ma’am we would never.”

Praise this woman, he thinks. “That’s right baby she’s telling ya, its coming—“

“I’ll FUCKING kill you, Joel Miller. Do you know that?”

“Yes-“

“I fucking HATE you right now.”

“Yes—“

“You shit—fuck bag motherfucker, I HATE you—you—you—“ and you start sobbing “—did this to me!”

“I did—“

“YOU!”

“ME.”

Back again to an angered, snarling beast, you growl, “I’ll rip your fucking cock off. I’m fucking you up so fucking bad when we get home, you can never FUCKIN’ do this fucking shit to me again. Balls in the fucking blender.”

“Balls in the blender,” he repeats with absolute conviction, not an ounce of protest in him.

“The FUCkING blender—you hear me fucker?”

“The fucking blender, for sure baby, anything you want right after this.”

“Ugh--oh dfuck Joel its coming!”

“Yeah?” He asks, and its the first time he hears his own voice waver. Holy fuck this is it. This is the moment for the last 9 months its actually here—

“Just another contraction,” the doctor confirms casually.

FUCK DOC HOW LONG DOES THIS TAKE I can’t feel my skull!

“CUNT SUCKER!” You scream, holding Joel’s head hostage as you chant through your breathing pants.

“Any where’s my MOTHERFUCKING epidural!”

“It’s coming! It’s coming!” Joel nods to his now best friend nurse, who’s also nodding dramatically to keep you distracted from the epidural that is absolutely not on its way.

“Miller,” you growl, shoving his nose right against yours. You stare into his very soul, like Death herself ripping his life choices out of his body and spilling them under your eyes. “I think that Bitch is lying to me. There’s no fucking epidural coming, is there.”

“There is, baby, she said it herself, I checked…”

“Are you fucking lying to me Miller?”

“Never baby, we’d never lie to you, right?” He gestures to the nurse again, who nods diligently again. “See baby, no lying, we’d never lie.”

He watches your jaw drop, voice disappear as another roar is ripped from your chest..

“I can’t do this.”

“You can, you can and will. I’ll give you anything you want, right after you do this.”

“I want you fucking DEAD.”

“Sure thing. Want a divorce too?”

“I’m CONSIDERING IT,” you bark a baritone lower like the devil. “FuuuUUUCCCKKKK!!!!!”

“I’ll get the papers printed right up. Favorite pen signed an’ all. But only after you have this baby tonight—“

The doctor checks the monitor again just as you let out a piercing scream. 

“Ma’am it’s time to push.”

“YOU PUSH!” You shout, waving your arm at him but unable to put a curse to the end of it. Your pains are coming through quicker, no longer waves but an unyielding rumbling as the baby kicks and punches and squirms and—

Joel is by your side, taking your hand in his. He’s prepped this speech in his head a million times, every night, every time he felt that baby kick or watched you struggle to tie your shoes, every single second, he’s perfected it:

“It’s here. Its happening. You’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do this together, you and me, right now—“

“Nope.”

“We—what?”

Your voice is calm and face plain. “Changed my mind. Not having this baby.”

“Yes you for fucking sure are.”

“Nope no. I’m returning it. Got the receipt.”

“There—there IS NO RECEIPT.”

“Yes—I got it—90 day warranty—“ your face tightens, clenching out the last word as if you’re mentally willing this baby to not pop out right now. But by god this baby is not taking your bullshit any longer.

“We are way past the 90 day warranty, honey, you’re having this baby, TODAY, Right NOW!”

“Nope, nope I’m gonna suck it back in!” 

It seems all ability to ‘suck it back in’ has failed, as the nurse shouts clearly “I see a head!”

Your voice breaks in the most heart wrenching “I CAN’T—“ you sob, terror in your voice.

You scream again, and it’s the worst thing Joel’s ever heard. He feels like a kid again, for the first time in a long while, when his parents fought, and the sounds of their voices carried upstairs to his and Tommy’s bedroom. He wanted to run, hide in the closet, cover his ears, cradling himself and rock back and forth, shut his eyes and his mind out, drain everything away. Instead, he held Tommy, he watched Tommy, he calmed Tommy. He bared the brunt of it, and the fear, he learned to control it.

The control is gone. He’s fearing again. And it’s not his parents having an argument over watermelon seeds, but his wife experiencing the most unimaginable pain right now, and it’s because of him, it really is, just like you said. Worse than nails on a chalkboard, glass in his eyes, fire on his feet. He’s so scared, everything he had tried to train for, for you, for this moment, is collapsing before him, and he’s not gonna make it—

Every fiber in his body grips your hand more tightly than possible. “You can,” he says, sturdy yet trembling. He’s scared.

He’s always known what to do, what comes next, how to make your pain and sadness and tears go away. He’s perfected it, knowing what to get you or what to say to make it all better, but now?  He doesn’t know what comes next. Doesn’t know how to make it stop, help you through it, take your worries and griefs—you’re on your own and he’s just next to you, and its not enough, and he can’t help, and he doesn’t know what to do—He doesn’t know what to do-Hedoesntknowwhattodo!

“Hey.”

He feels a gentle hand on his shoulder; the nurse who’s holding all the pieces of his heart and sanity together. She looks at him, focused, locked in from the moment your wailing, miserable self was wheeled in here, and has been doing everything he can’t.

“We’re right there. I need you to ground her,” she says. “Can you do that?”

He nods, tightening his lips. He remembers your hand in his now, remembers where he is, in this moment, and its all the matters.

He’s here. And he wants—needs you to know he’s not going anywhere.

He calls your name. “It’s time, okay baby?” Steady. Reassuring. Level headed. Strong. Rock. Crutch. Love. Everything he’s good at. Everything you know him by. “I need you to push.”

You shake your head again, eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenching hard. But he nods, because he’s gonna do the nodding, and the yes’ing, and he’s gonna take everything that’s ever caused you wrong or pain or sadness away because it’s what he does.

It’s what makes him keep going.

“FUCK! MOTHER———MOTHERFUCKER!!!!AHHHHHHHHH!!”

“Keep going!” The nurse encourages. “Dad, you’re doing great, keep getting her to focus—“

“I’M NOT GETTING MY FUCKING EPIDURAL!!!!!!!!!!!!” You sob in finality, the truth seeping into your bones. “YOU FUCKING—MOTHERFUCKING CUNNT SHIT STICK LITTLE BI—“ 

“For Christ’s sake, SHUT THE FUCK UP!” The nurse howls, and the entire room goes silent, even you. Joel stares at her dumbfounded. 

‘“The baby. Is HERE,” she huffs definitively. 

“Now fucking—PUSH!”

 - 

Joel’s heart has stopped. 

He doesn’t know where it is, but he knows it’s no longer in his body. 

Its not until he hears the first, most beautifully devastating croak of an angelic cry that he’s felt his heartbeat resume again, and its being cradled gently by the nurse as she pulls the tiniest, wrinkliest, most precious thing on this planet from between your legs.

“Congratulations, mom and dad. A healthy, happy baby girl.”

There’s no way this little—thing—this… bean—can be a baby. It’s the size of both his hands together, and so incredibly delicate, my god, weighing almost nothing and yet the sheer weight of who she is has him nearly capsizing at this very moment.

She’s wrapped delicately in cloth, face and nostrils wiped of fluids before landing gracefully in your outstretched arms. And it’s like the cosmos has realigned in harmony.

No amount of sweat, tears, crazy hair and braised skin, torn clothing and achy muscles could possibly deter the absolute love bursting from your chest as you hold the tiny baby in your grasp. “Hi,” you whimper with a big smile, eyes floating in a shiny haze pf exhaustion and happiness, looking down upon her. “Hi baby girl.” you laugh, tears falling freely as you shake your head and hold her closer, as close as possible, reabsorbing her into your bare chest, and you feel it. Her skin on yours. You’ve carried her this entire time, and yet it’s like you’re feeling her for the first time in your life.

Joel curls next to you, his big palm splayed over top her whole body, touching her. And it’s the first time, the first time he’s felt his daughter. He had been separated by the membrane of your belly, anxiously, excitedly waiting all this time to meet her, and now she’s here. She’s here. Neither one of you can believe it.

Your little baby wiggles, cooing noise stuck in her throat as she settles from her cries. she’s so wrinkly, skin still absorbing all that fresh air, working color into those cheeks and hands, fingers and toes. Her eyes are too swollen, not yet ready to say hi to this world. But that’s okay. Because her mom and dad are still going to be right here when she wakes up, the first people who will introduce her to the world around her. Because she is their world.

“Joel,” you whisper softly. He hears you. He’s here. He hasn’t left your side once. You know he’s here, you’re grateful. He’s here. He loves you. 

“Joel,” you hum again. “She’s beautiful.”

You tremble against him. Shaken from love and joy, more than your entire achy body can contain as you bring her little head to your lips and press the most fulfilling kiss to her.

Joel cups her little head. He wants to hold her, but he’s gotta wait. Fuck after all this time, he’s gotta wait. And it’s enough. He can handle it because he’s so fucking overwhelmed that she’s finally here.

“She’s the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen,” he rasps into your hair, kissing you tenderly.

Joel steps outside the room, softly closing the door behind him. He watches from the glass window pane, with you perfectly framed in the center as its only subject. Just the way he’s seen the world every day since he met you. 

Only this time, you hold another part of you, and him, in your arms.  The two of you, together. Like the only things that will ever matter to him.

And suddenly, Joel lets himself feel it all.

He clutches his mouth with the entirety of his palm, his yelp buzzing in his hoarse throat. He feels his knees give way, tumbling to the ground, one hand holding the wall while the other grips his face to keep the cries at bay. And he cries. He cries harder than he’s ever cried, and they’re wonderful. They hurt like kisses, burn like candy, ache like love. 

He wants to go back in there.

Quickly wiping his face clean, he stands up, straightening himself.

“Hey.”

The nurse who had delivered his baby stands next to him.

“She did fantastic. You both did.”

Joel tries to clear his throat, but his face is so obviously still red, swollen and barely holding it together. She doesn’t question nor judge the tough guy facade, yet completely speaks to his soul, telling him everything he didn’t know he needed to hear. “She’s 7 pounds, 2 ounces. Ten fingers and toes. Brown eyes. Hearing is great, so is—“

“Thank you,” he interrupts.

She goes quiet but offers a gentle smile. 

As he stares at her, the literal saint that got you and his baby through this, from point A to B, he realizes  nothing is coming to his head.

“I’m sorry, I … I don’t even know your name.”

She laughs. “I would not expect you to. You had way more to worry about.”

“Well, I just … really, really wanted to say…. Thank you…”

“Sarah,” she responds.

“Sarah,” he repeats. He repeats it over and over again in his mind, as if its going to stick, and he doesn’t quite know why yet.

“I’ll give you two—three, some time together,” she says, gathering the checkerboard hanging by the wall. “Then I’ll be back to help get her ready to take home, and let your wife sleep some more.”

He nods, looking down then back up, just as she’s patting his shoulder reassuringly and turning away to attend her other duties.

-

When he steps back inside, you look up to him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he whispers back. Now that the dust has settled, he can finally see just how exhausted you are. The absolute train wreck that has battered your body this last hour really settling in, and it makes his chest sore to see you like that. Your gown pulled halfway down to your ribcage, tousled hair sticking awkwardly to your forehead and back from all the dried sweat. And yet none of it, absolutely nothing, is getting in the way of that smile that hasn’t left your cheeks since the moment you heard her cry.

“She’s sleeping,” you hum, looking back down at your daughter, who’s coddled up in a wrap and little cap.

“You thinking about putting the baby down, getting some sleep too?”

“Never.”

He smirks, looking down at her again.

“You think about any names yet?” You ask, stroking over her little forehead.

The two of you had thought about it. A lot. You didn’t want it to be random, but you didn’t want it to be weird. It had to have meaning, but not so closely related to a family member that you’d always mess them up at thanksgiving. It had to remind you of someone strong, unique, purposeful but distant enough that she could to grow and make it her own. 

And this was a girl, after all, so it had to be someone that could put momma AND papa in their place whenever shit got too crazy. 

“I’ve got…one.”

-

Joel helps dress the baby from her swaddled blanket into clothes.

“They’re gonna be a little bit big at first—“ you say, giggling as the two of you realize that the smallest clothes in the world are still a little too baggy on your little—so fucking little—girl.

Joel doesn’t waver, helping put her bitty legs through the loose pant legs…

You see him wipe his lips quickly, swallowing a lump to clear his throat.

“Joel, are you crying?”

“No,” he rasps like a whimper. “M’just sweatin’ through my eyes.”

You let out a chuckle, and Joel tries to do the same, but then he looks down at his little angel again, who’s stretching herself out in the new cloth that’s practically a giant coat on her. Joel starts to tremble. “She’s so perfect,” he weeps, and the shine in his eyes are clear as day.

“Oh baby, it’s okay to cry! I’m gonna cry too—“ you bawl, and now the two of you cry over this little girl who’s just trying to figure out why this blanket is stuck to her.

Not a great first impression from mom and dad but she’ll just have to deal with it.

And just like that, the Miller family went from party of two, to family of three.

-

6 weeks later…

The baby monitor crackles to life, and Joel is already tossing the blanket aside before the baby utters her first cry. He’s already up, kissing your forehead with “I’ll get her," almost excitedly through the heavy lull of sleep. You barely get a noise out of your throat, already snoring away into the pillow. He’s exhausted too, but his feet carry him onward with droopy eyes as if on their own.

He’s still not happy about the pink paint color of her bedroom, but that hardly matters right now. Terribly dramatic cries echo from the crib ahead. He scoops his little bean—since that’s what she looks like all curly in her onesie—supporting her head carefully and tucking her into one elbow. 

He rocks her squirming, agitated body back and forth in one arm as he shakes the now warmed bottle in his other hand. Joel tries to get her screaming mouth to take the cap, but she shakes her head, avoiding him at all costs to her own detriment.

 "Oh you’re such a squiggly girly for daddy. I got ya bubbas right here, quick ya cryin’. You’re gonna wake up mommy." 

As if she understands how she wouldn’t want to cause YOU any problems, his baby stops crying and accepts the bottle between her lips. Once she finally has her snacking, she peacefully looks back up to him, studies him. 

"There she is.  Told ya." He grins, swaying back and forth as she stares back at him with those big beautiful brown eyes. You definitely got one of your wishes: Joel’s eyes. The rest of her, is yours.

He’s hypnotized, so in love with her he didn’t think it was possible to love something as much as you. He already knows he’s gonna get her the dog, the kitty, the pony, the car, credit card, dress, house, anything she points to really; he’s never going to be able to say no to those enchanting eyes.

All of her bitty fingers fist around Joel’s pointer, as if to anchor her, and she doesn't let go as she drinks safely.  

She’s only 10 pounds now, but he feels like Atlas, carrying the entire weight of the world all curled up in his arms right now. Ans he'd carry this weight forever if he could, would pump iron and concrete slabs and oceans just to stay in shape and keep his girl in his arms for eternity, never to tire.

“My babygirl,” he whispers with a grin, pursing his lips close to her. “My little baby Sarah.”

- - - -

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[kinokkotsu]

Girlfriend — Yuuta Okkotsu x Reader

You found yourself sitting at the edge of a building. You took a small box and opened it, revealing the several cigarettes sticks inside. You pulled one out of its box as you push it in between your lips. The Tokyo city lights were amazing from above, though you had seen this view many times before. Maybe you’re getting high with yourself without even noticing. A low chuckle escaped your lips as you figured so.

Your ears immediately perked up once you heard footsteps from behind, “…relax, it’s just me” a gentle voice crept out as a tall figure appeared from the dark, Yuuta Okkotsu.

The special graded sorcerer had always something to do with you and it was always something about love. Maybe it was just you trying to deny it. You’d had went on dates and even had shared the same apartment before.

But you guys were not a thing.

He was a jujutsu sorcerer and worse he was the student under Gojo’s wing. And you? You were a puppet of Kenjaku in fact you know everything little things he had done including him pulling a trick on Itadori’s dad.

Maybe that was one of the reasons why you always had not been accepting his and your feelings to get in the way.

“Are you not going to say anything?” You said firmly, staring at the guy that just settled down next to you without a word. “no, not yet.” he smiled, a genuine one. you scoffed, “the fuck you mean no? I did not come here for nothing.”

Silence fell between you both before Okkotsu turnt to look at you. “I actually..don’t want to seem like I’m using you.” he said as he stared at you flick the cigarettes with your fingers. “Use me? Then what do you wanna do? Propose me? Don’t be an id-”

“Yes..yes. I want to make us an official thing. I want to make you an official thing.” he said, almost seemed like whispering.

At the moment, his face was too close to yours. You can feel his hot breaths against your cheeks, slightly making you feel things you had never experienced before. A rush of blood flowed through your cheeks which caused Okkotsu to laugh.

“Are you seriously blushing at this? c’mon it’s not like we have not even slept together bef-”

“Will you shut up already? Your voice is so loud that people on the ground might even hear.” you said, trying not to break a smile as you push him away.

You loved these kinds of moments. Moments that cannot be shared with anyone. You knew he was serious about his previous commitment yet you were not convinced you agreed too.

“..I just don’t want you to get executed once they found out.” you exhaled before your hands worked their way for another cigarette as it stopped its track once Okkotsu stopped your hand.

He looked at you sincerely, “they won’t find out.. I’m really tired of staying as strangers and you know how much I would like to hold your hand without feeling guilty.” He said before rubbing his palm against the back of your hand gently. He grabbed your soft hand and placed it on his lips, giving it a peck on the veins.

your heart softened at the sight, his face illuminated by the city lights, featuring every details perfectly. His hair messily falling off to his forehead. he was indeed handsome though it may take sometime to actually admit it.

“I promise they won’t. I don’t care if they do, I only need a world with you and me in it.” He grinned as he crooked his head in your neck.

you laughed at his words, “do you even know who you are talking to right now?”

“my girlfriend — obviously.”

“You’re such a hard headed guy.” You smiled softly while rubbing his skull. Though your brain told you to stop your actions, your heart convinced you to trust his words.

And you did.

I lost the request to this but if you’re seeing this, thanks for the brilliant idea xx. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Thanks!

[knightjpg]

landslide | chapter 3

chapter tags: (light) stalking, alcohol/alcohol consumption, reader has a toxic boyfriend

prev | next

Just the one time. 

You won't even notice, Ghost reasons to himself. He'll just be another spectre haunting London; a phantom passing through. Just once. Just to see— 

To soothe. Yes, that's what it is. He's just fulfilling a final duty, a tribute to the woman who made his brother smile like he'd never seen a day of hardship in his life. 

It's not hard to track you down. Years may have gone by, but Ghost has a photo, a name, and a bloodhound's tenacity for sniffing out the details. The anonymous bustle of London loses out against his patience, and really, people are creatures of habit. They seek comfort in the known; in their routine. 

Ghost observes yours. From afar, at first—a shadow lurking in alleyways you give a wide berth to. This is good. This is how it's meant to be. We get dirty, Price's voice echoes in his skull. So the world stays— 

After a week it gets harder to justify. You're alive and well. Have a steady job and a roof over your head. A boyfriend. You're not rude enough to drunk twats calling after you when get off work, but you clutch the closest thing to pepper spray in your hand after dark.  

Smart girl. 

It's time to step away. Simon died; a tombstone doesn't fit into the constraints of your daily life. He's let go before. He can—has to—do it again. 

“Sure, honey. Whatever you say.” 

... 

Just— 

Just the one time. 

Ghost pretends he's doing a stakeout. There's a mission, and there's a target. Simple. Easy. Muscle memory. 

When you walk through the café door, bell jingling against the wood, he's supposed to be casual. Uninterested; aloof—just another guy getting his daily fix. He knows he stands out with his bulk, but it's London: who's going to care? No one's going to think twice about his being here. He just has to keep it cool, go through the motions of reading his book without picking up any of the words. Then, naturally, look up— 

(sure, honey—) 

—and. Fuck. He is so unprepared. 

You keep your hair a little shorter these days. Still no ring on your finger—Simon breathes out slow—but a pendant around your neck has taken up a fixed presence. A gift? It's hard to tell. 

You're a little older, sure, but you're so— 

You're so... 

He ducks his head just in time, ballcap throwing his face into shadow to avoid your curious glance. Caught staring. He curses at himself—is he a fucking professional or what? 

Your name is called out, and you take your order with a grateful thanks. Ghost chances a peek while you're preoccupied. 

Christ. You're so pretty. 

Not just pretty—beautiful. Not like how he remembers, but also exactly how he remembers. The way you shift your weight, the quick gesture of your head when you shake the hair out of your face. Your smile, a flash of teeth. 

It's a perfect fit. A lost puzzle piece slots into place, lines up a bridge between the past with the present— 

“Oh, I'm so glad you're here,” you tell him with a sigh, plopping down heavily in the chair beside him. “If anyone asks me to dance I have a sprained ankle, okay?” 

Simon gives you a solemn nod, eyes sliding from the dancefloor to your figure bending down to untie your shoes. Your hair is done up beautifully for today, and he's overcome with the desire to reach out and touch the nape of your neck. 

He forces it down and watches Tommy and Beth swaying to a slow song, eyes closed. You sigh, flexing your toes. 

“Hurt?” Simon asks. 

“Just tired,” you smile. “Beth's cousin are nice, but every time I sit they—oh, God, there's one of them.” 

You unsuccessfully try to hide behind Simon's broad shoulders. One of your hands presses against his arm for balance, small imprint of warm through his nicest white blouse. 

Simon's heart lurches. He leans into your touch like a lodestone. 

“She's got a sprained ankle, mate,” he tells Beth's cousin before he can open his mouth. “Gotta rest.” 

The boy swallows a thinly veiled tsk when Simon speaks up, then tries again. “I'm sorry, love, was I too rough on you? Do you want me to get you ice? Or a drink? Or—” 

“Got it handled here,” Simon cuts in curtly.  

Simon likes Beth. Likes her family fine, too—he and Tommy grew up on a low bar, but still he can see they're alright folk. And Simon would never start shit on their wedding day. He's got better manners than that. 

But people get caught up in weddings, spurred on by booze and a festive mood. They grow loose-lipped, handsy, jovial. 

Simon's more than happy to put cousin what'shisname in his place should he forget it. 

The cousin lingers for a moment, but eventually tucks his tail between his legs and sets off to the drinks bar. Simon eyes his retreat warily. 

“Oh,” you sigh, sagging against Simon's back for a moment before pulling yourself upright. “Thanks so much. You're my hero.” 

—a wildflower in his barren desertscape. 

 

He'd wondered if it would hurt any more than it does every other day of his life. A living, breathing reminder of everything that he's lost; Ghost is not immune to pain. Even corpses bleed. 

He finds it doesn't matter. Whatever he might have felt is drowned out by something else, a lighthouse smacking him in the face with the same blinding light he chased when he crawled out of the dirt— 

Familiar. Quickly followed by, mine. Something that earns its intimacy simply by being known; hauntingly so, but he wants it. Wants to have it, wants to allow himself this smidge of nostalgia. 

(You're my hero.) 

Self-denial pushed to the extreme rebounds off the wall and crashes against him like a wave. Saltwater mixes with old dusty sediment, rips out dead old roots as it pulls him down, a landslide— 

And it's trouble. Ghost knows it. But— 

He's always had an appetite for the thrill of danger, careful, might get hurt;  

and he figures one more scar won't make much of a difference. 

----------

The alcohol tastes bitter on your tongue. You swirl the liquid in your glass and wish you could jump into the miniature whirlpool; to simply let the disappointment and the hurt and the insecurity all be washed away.  

Your phone beep...beep...beeps until: 

“The person you are attempting to call cannot be reached at this time. To leave a message, press—” 

You shove it back in your pocket with an angry twist of your mouth. That's four times for this month alone. How many was it last month? And the one before that? 

Maybe you should stop counting. 

The alcohol does the opposite from soothing your bad mood. You know your limits and steer clear of that line; over the years you've found it's never worth the headache or the nausea the next day.  

Another drink and things will start getting fuzzier, which means it's time to call a friend or a cab and leave. Be smart. Be careful. 

Your fingers dig into the glass. You stay seated on your stool.  

Maybe you should've accepted when a bloke offered you a drink. Sorry, you'd smiled. Waiting for my boyfriend. 

Fuck your boyfriend. 

The spite sours as soon as it wells up, leaving guilt in its wake. What's wrong with you? You'd never cheat on Dave. You've been the subject of that kind of betrayal too often; know the pain too well. You won't be that kind of person. 

You down the last of your drink, just about to get up when a large man wearing a dark hoodie seats himself on the stool next to you. 

You pause. It's not busy; there's plenty of empty stools to choose from. Coincidence or a sign of interest? Would it be rude to leave immediately after he's sat down?  

Would it be worse to wait for him to say something instead? 

Hesitation lies heavily in your stomach, alcohol and loneliness making you feel unsure, slow. The indecision keeps your eyes down on your empty glass while you fiddle with a coaster and tell yourself to stop being so self-absorbed. It doesn't mean anything; it's not about you. People can come to the bar just for a— 

“Drink?” the stranger asks you. 

Your eyes flit up. 

He's wearing a ballcap—go Manchester—which, under the dim lights of the bar, obscures most of his features. Still, you catch the end tail of a nasty scar running down his cheek. 

This is where trepidation should come in. A sixth sense of self-preservation telling you in red letters do not touch. Do not go here. 

Do not trespass. 

But: 

something about him is familiar.  

Maybe that's why you're less guarded. Less careful. You're lonely, abandoned, stood up; one last drink won't hurt. Will it? Because, really— 

It's just a drink, you tell yourself. If he tries anything you'll make a scene.  

God knows you've got plenty of pent-up anger to let loose. 

“Sure, okay,” you say, and the man waves the bartender over. You watch him pour the drink, and offer the stranger a half-hearted smile as you raise your glass in cheers. 

“You alone?” 

“I have a boyfriend,” you say, trying for casual nonchalance and ending up somewhere close to abandoned cat on the roadside. There's even a tremor at the end of your voice to go with it. 

And you thought tonight wouldn't get any more pathetic. 

The man tilts his head. “He gonna come pick y’up?” 

You tap your phone's screen out of habit: no notifications. You shake your head. The bar suddenly feels too loud, too sharp; too real. You realise that until now you'd still clung to the idea that Dave's caller ID would pop up any moment, that any second the next face walking into the bar would be his. 

It's not going to happen. 

You know it's not. But all by yourself you could still believe—lure yourself into the protective delusion that Dave wouldn't stand you up again. Not after missing your anniversary dinner, surely. 

Your throat closes against a sob clawing its way up. Christ. You try to wrestle it down, cover your quivering lips with a hand. You're drunk. Drunk and acting like an idiot— 

Your stranger does a little hum. “He a twat?” 

The delivery is so dry you hiccup a strange laugh-sob. “Some—sometimes. Maybe it's my fault. I don't know what I—” You stop yourself and breathe. Cling to the shred of sobriety left in you. “Sorry. You don't care about any of this.” 

The bloke shifts on his stool, turning his torso more towards you and leaning one of his big forearms on the tacky bar as he does. The end of a tattoo sleeve peeks out from his hoodie, abstract lines old and sun-faded.  

“Could listen.” 

You blink, and— 

there's your apartment, your front door, the jingle of keys. Body moving on autopilot, dropping bag and shoes and slumping onto your bed. 

Your mind is slow, hazy; muddled by fatigue and cocktails. How'd you get home again? 

A flash of obnoxious radio music. The dangle of car freshener against a dark windshield. 

That's right. Had one drink too much, and called— 

You frown against your sheets. Called... 

A low voice in your ear, telling you to mind your feet. Not Dave—bigger than Dave. One strong arm keeping you from wobbling, and the other opening the door to a cab. Smelled nice. Safe. A friend? 

“I saw Simon's boots in the hall. Did he stop by?” 

“He did. Came to save me from Tommy's hovering.” 

You finish pouring Beth's smoothie—thick, fruity, calorie-dense—and hand it to her. She sighs in relief, carefully shifting in her seat so she doesn't jostle Joseph while she's breastfeeding. 

“Thanks so much. God,” and she takes a big sip, “that's good. Everyone tells you breastfeeding makes you hungry, but oh my god, it makes you hungry.” 

You laugh a little, patting her leg. “You're doing great, mumma.” 

“I hope so.” Beth looks down at Joseph, stroking his blond wispy hairs. “We're thinking about moving. Not for a while, but—maybe next year.” Beth gestures to the little flat apartment. “Tommy's been doing really well at work, and we want Joseph to be able to run around in a yard.” 

As if summoned, the front door opens and closes. Boots thump against the doormat; the coathanger rattles with the weight of thick padded jackets. 

“I think that's a lovely idea,” you smile. “Just let me know and I'll help.” 

Beth's face softens. “Thank you.” 

She looks exhausted, but extraordinarily happy at the same time. You're so happy for her—so happy for both of them—yet can't help the occasional tug of envy. You're not sure if you want children, not yet, but the look of devotion in Tommy's eyes when he crosses the room to kiss Beth and Joseph's cheeks is hard not to want for yourself. 

“Alright?” 

You lift your eyes to Simon. He looks freshly windswept from their walk, hair mussed and cheeks ruddy. For some reason it makes you feel— 

You duck your head, nodding. “Yeah.”  

You suddenly feel a little shy, out of place. To give yourself something to do you collect empty cups to put away—and stumble on one of Joseph's toys lying around. 

Simon's arm shoots out to steady you, and in your attempt to balance yourself you bump headfirst into his chest. You quickly remove yourself, cheeks burning. 

“Thanks...” 

In between dreaming and waking, the memory of a voice murmurs in your ear;  

“Steady now.” 

----------

Ghost watches the cab drive away with a pensive expression. 

You're not happy. 

He watched you for over an hour, his pretty lonely girl sipping fruity cocktails at the bar. Waiting for the ungrateful cunt to bother showing up. 

Because your boyfriend is an ungrateful cunt, going by the way you nearly cried into his arms. Simon hadn't been privy to the details, lived off second-hand stories from Tommy and sometimes Beth, and there's too many gaps in his memories to be sure. 

But he knows— 

I'm tired of the shitty boyfriends. 

Beth's playful smile loops in his head. Ghost feels sorry for you, and yet— 

some sick part of him is pleased.  

Relieved. 

You need him. Haven't learned yet to winnow the wheat from the chaff; can't see that your precious time and effort is wasted on undeserving shits. 

Tonight was supposed to be the last time; a final goodbye. Closure for the dead. That last push he needed to stop himself from reaching out and saying it's me— 

Simon. 

But this changes things. Ghost turns his back on the night, and disappears into the shadows. 

It's time to make some phone calls. 

[bloodyknucklesforme]

Red Summer | Ghoap x F!Reader | Slasher!AU

After breaking up with your long term boyfriend you take a job working as a camp counselor in Northern Vermont. Seven weeks of swimming, volleyball, archery and hiking. There's even a hot lifeguard. It seems perfect until you find something evil is lurking in the woods

Tags: Slasher AU, Ghoap x Reader, intro chapter, nondescript reader, dark fic

cw: vaginal sex, oral sex, dub vouyerism, gore

Chapter 2: Time After Time

previous| next

You had never had a nightmare like that before. Something so vivid and horrific. You kept running your hands over your stomach, expecting to feel an open wound or even a scar. It was nothing but smooth flesh with splatterings of freckles and stretch marks.  

You walked shaky legged into the bathroom, stripping down and stepping into the cold water. It all felt so real. You kept pinching your arms, thighs and stomach - making sure you’re real. That you’re not dead. That your insides are still on the inside. 

You heard your name being called in the main room. You shut off the water and wrapped yourself in the old fraying towel you brought. You grabbed a particularly heavy shampoo bottle to use as a weapon just in case. 

“There you are,” Johnny smiled with relief when you poked your head out of the bathroom. “Missed ya at breakfast… what’s wrong?”

He was alive. He was alive and standing in front of you. No blood on his hands or fear in his eyes. 

“I just had a really… really fucked up dream last night.” Your voice croaked. 

“Oh Bonnie. You’re okay. It was only a dream.” He opened his arms to you and despite not knowing him and being practically naked you accepted. He smelled like sweat and cheap cologne. “First day anxieties, yeah?” 

You nodded softly, choking back tears. It was just a dream and you were so fucked up by it. Your face heated up at how pathetic you were being. 

“You get dressed and I’ll grab you something to eat, okay?” He patted your back. At least you hadn’t dreamt up how caring he was. He made sure the door was shut before heading out. 

You went to grab your STAFF shirt and recoiled, remembering it was what you wore in your dream. You grabbed a different top and pulled on some old jean shorts. 

“It’s not high protein but I got ya instant oatmeal and a banana.” Johnny called through the door. “You decent?” 

“Yeah. I’m good.”

It was the kind with dinosaur eggs in it. You mixed it about till the eggs melted to reveal brightly colored sugared dinos. 

“We have orientation to do.” You said softly, eating another spoon full. 

“I told Warren we’d be a wee bit late. Said you found a snake in your cabin and needed me to rescue you.” He chuckled, bumping your shoulder with his. 

“Thank you,” you smiled meekly. 

“You want ta talk about it?”

“Huh?”

“Yer dream? What got ya so freaked out.”

“Oh… uh… it was like a movie. Just some man was going around killing people. He was wearing this skull mask and he…uh… he stabbed me.”

“Might have watched too many movies before getting here.” He rubbed your shoulder. “I promise if a masked killer comes running around I’ll keep ya safe.”

He waited with you until you finished eating. Out of the corner of your eye you could see him bite at his nails. Any time you looked at him he’d give you a soft smile that didn’t quite match the anxiety in his eyes. 

You made the motions to get through the afternoon, unable to shake the unease of deja vu. Sophia kept trying to open you up with jokes and little nudges and looks as the boys bonded. 

Every time Sophia or Warren explained something you thought “I know this already” which only made the knot in your stomach tighten. 

You felt calm once the four of you reached the lake. They were talking while you walked down the dock. The air felt cooler the further out you went.

You took off your shoes and socks and sat down to stick your feet in the water. 

There’d been a lake in your home town and during the warm months you used to ride your bike down to sit at the beach. It was more dirt than sand but that just meant it attracted less people. On the other side was the nice beach with lifeguards and playgrounds and paid entry. On your side  it was just you and the occasional fisherman. It was peaceful there and now with your feet in the water you felt that peace again. 

“Yer gonna get burnt.” You jumped at Johnny’s voice. He was standing a little ways behind you, bottle of sunscreen in hand. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya.”

He sat down next to you. His shoes and socks sat next to yours. You took the bottle and began reapplying to your arms. 

“You still freaked about that dream?”

“A little. It just felt so real… and I don’t know. Maybe I am just paranoid. I never really did camp when I was younger.”

“Sleeping somewhere new can always mess with ya head a bit. When I was in the army you slept when and where ya could. Never really felt rested.”

“Do you get nightmares?... I’m sorry that was stupid to ask. You don’t have to-” Your face felt hot. 

“I do. Sometimes. Took this job to get out of my head a bit.”

“Is it working?”

“No,” he laughed. “But there’s a whole summer left.”

“That is true.”

You laid back on the dock, letting the water lap against your shins. 

The two of you missed lunch but made it back for the rest of the day's schedule. The afternoon passed over easily. You tried to stay out of your own head but Deja vu kept tying knot after knot around your brain.

There were blisters on the back of your heels. You chewed on the inside of your cheek as you applied band-aids for seemingly the second time.

You had minimal service but enough to get out a short text to Ale.

‘At camp. I might not be able to talk to you for a while but when I’m back I hope we can talk.’

It felt a little pathetic. He broke up with you essentially. ‘A break’ is what he called it. He was leaving for the Summer too soon enough. Helping out his childhood friend Rudy at his ranch down in Mexico. He originally wanted you to come with him. See where he grew up, meet his family and friends. You thought maybe there was a ring hidden among all those plans. You guessed you were wrong. 

You missed Johnny as you walked up to the dining hall for dinner. You didn’t really feel like talking but it was nice to be talked to sometimes. He was already seated with another girl. You felt a little twinge of jealousy. He’d spent most of the morning attached to your hip but it seems you were already forgotten. 

The unease of the day made you decline any invites to drink or sit by the fire. 

“I think I'm just gonna walk for a little bit. Just get some air before going to bed.

“I can come with you,” Nat offered.

“I think I’ll be okay. I’ll bring a flashlight. I’ll probably just go around the soccer fields and back.” There were a couple light posts out around the area. Not super bright but enough to find your way back.

It seemed to be tempting fate to go out alone. It also seemed to be the only way to knock this anxiety out of your head. Life wasn’t a movie. Masked killers were only in movies. If this was a movie you’d be in Mexico planning out an outfit to get engaged in. You were in Vermont as far away from Mexico as your credit card could take you. 

You did a lap around the soccer fields and you survived. 

You did another one just for good measure and you survived again.

You thought about doing a third but it was dark and your feet ached and you only wished to tempt fate so much. 

You could hear people yelling as you walked back to the cabins. Your arms and legs prickled. You weren’t close enough to tell if it was laughing or not. You turned off your flashlight anyway. You stepped off the path and walked on the grass to quiet your footsteps just in case.

Running footsteps came past you, the runner breathing squeakily as they disappeared into the dark. They were trying to be as quiet as they could, an animal running from a predator. Something out of a nature documentary when the herd scattered as the lion went for the weak. 

You crouched down as you made your way closer, keeping out of the light. Your flashlight was heavy; it could be a weapon if needed. Ale, had taught you how to punch before. 

This was a poor way to find out you were possibly psychic. You should have let Nat come with you. You hoped she and the other girls got away. Maybe you could find Johnny again. If he really did have a gun, you wouldn’t even need the keys. The flashlight could break the window of his car. He was trained for this. If you found Johnny you might survive.

The fire in the center of the cabins was still going, still bright enough to illuminate the carnage. Three bodies laid around with trails of blood leading in all directions. None of them looked like Johnny. 

You crept along the back of the cabins towards Johnny’s. There was a scream in the distance and your stomach flipped. You peaked around the corner. No one.

You winced as the door creaked open, checking around you once again for any signs of life. If Johnny wasn’t here maybe you could still find his keys. You didn’t know which car was his. But keys could fix that. Keys got the car which got you the gun. Simple. The parking lot was about half a mile away. You could sprint there. All those leg days at the gym with Alejandro would pay off. 

He had a backpack on the floor. Old paperbacks, sketchbook, pencil pouch, lighter, a pack of cigarettes, condoms, a folding knife (you put it in your pocket), a thong (jesus christ Johnny), and finally the car keys. 

The floor creaked behind you. You flipped on your heels, getting the knife out much faster than you expected to.

“Shhh, bonnie. It’s me. It’s me.” Johnny hushed, crouching down to show his face in the light. He was covered in blood. “Let’s get out of here, yeah?”

“You’re hurt…”

“Not mine. Was helping Nat out a window and… he got her.” You bit back a cry. She could have been with you right now. Johnny beckoned you over. “Let’s go. We can make it to the lake.”

“No.” You shook your head. “The gun in your car. I have your keys.”

“What gun?” He frowned, “I don’t have a gun.”

Idiot!

“It was my dream,” you bit back another sob. “Oh my god.”

“Hey, it’s okay. You have my keys? We can go but we have to go now.”

He grabbed your arm and pulled you to your feet. “Don’t stop running.”

The two of you took off towards the parking lot. He was faster, more agile. You tripped over rocks and your feet were on fire. You heard larger footsteps running behind you. Your heart beat matched your steps. Just keep running. Don’t stop.

Johnny ducked down ahead of you. You weren’t sure why until it hit you. A razor thin wire cut across your throat, having been tied across the path. How did he see it? You hit the ground hard, throat open and gushing. You gasped as blood filled your lungs. It’d cut deep.

A pair of boots stopped one on each side of your head. You glanced up. The skull faced man from your dream. You couldn’t even whimper before an ax came swinging down to split your face in two. 

You screamed, rolling out of bed and thrashing about in your sleeping bag. Sophia came running in from the bathroom. 

“Are you okay?” She asked, helping you up. You couldn’t breathe. Hyperventilating hard, your legs couldn’t even hold you up anymore. Sophia had to drop you onto the bed. You couldn’t form words just open and close your mouth like a fish as you struggled to get enough air. Your body felt tight and disconnected from the rest of the world at the same time. “I’m gonna get help, okay?”

You heard her run off, your eyes glued to the old wooden ceiling. You could still feel it, the wire across your throat. The way your skull split open. 

More footsteps. A hand wrapped around yours.

“Hey, bon. It’s Johnny. I’m right here. Sophia, can you get her water? Thank you.” The door opened and closed again. Johnny climbed up on the bed beside you and helped you sit up, shouldering your body weight on his side. “Try to match my breathing. In…out…in…out. There ya go.”

You followed, your shoulders relaxing as more air traveled through your lungs.

“Good girl. That’s it. Just keep breathing like that. Try squeezing my hand as you breathe, focus on that. Yeah, that’s it. Good job.” His hand was real, it was here, it was wrapped around yours. You smelled his cheap cologne, felt the heat of his skin against yours. He held some little white disc up to your mouth. “You like mint? Just suck on it. Always helps me.”

You opened your mouth and he laid the mint on the edge of your lip, holding his hand out in case it fell. It was peppermint, reminded you of Christmas and toothpaste. 

As your heart calmed, your embarrassment flared up.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

“Nothing to be sorry for, bonnie. I know what a panic attack is.” He rubbed your back. “Do you want to talk?”

“I don’t know what’s going on. It’s like I’m having dreams within dreams.”

“What do you mean?”

“Today’s sunday?”

“It is.”

“In my dream it was sunday but in my dream i’d woken up from another dream where it was Sunday. And…and each time there was this man and he…he killed me.”

“Steamin Jesus.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, “That’s awful. I get why you’re so freaked.”

“I’ve never had anything like this happen before. It just felt so real. And you were there. Both times we were trying to escape and he got me. It sounds like a fucking movie or something but he got me. He wears this skull mask and he has an ax or a machete. Everyone was dead.”

“Shhh, it’s okay. Don’t work yourself up again. S’just a dream.” He took a deep breath at the end. “S’just a dream.”

Sophia let you spend most of the day inside your cabin with Johnny. 

“Just try to relax. Anything you missed, we can go over later. I promise it’s not that big of a deal.” She squeezed your shoulder. She was kind enough to bring you breakfast. Dinosaur oatmeal, coffee in a styrofoam cup and a couple granola bars. “There’s better service in the parking lot if you want to call anyone.”

She meant Ale. He’d pick you up if you asked. Drive all day, you could spend that night in your old apartment. Despite everything you knew he still cared about you. How many years had you two been together again? It seemed like it would be forever. Maybe he missed you as much as you missed him.

“Thanks. I’ll remember that.” You smiled up at Sophia.

“Just holler if you need anything.” She took a quick glance at Johnny and then back to you, her voice getting quiet “or if you want to be alone.”

You turned away from her like it would stop your face from getting hot.

It was nice of Johnny to stay with you.

“Don’t want you to feel like yer alone,” he’d said. He was laying down on one of the camper’s bunks, flipping absentmindedly through one of the books you’d brought with you. He didn’t seem to actually be reading it. You could tell from the look in his eyes that he was elsewhere, like he was staring at the white spaces between the words rather than the words themselves.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” You offered. He perked up like a dog.

“With you? Absolutely.”

The two of you walked down towards the lake. You already knew the way. You weren’t sure how it happened but you were holding his hand the whole way there. The underpass was as wet and mildewy as it was in your dreams. You held on tighter to him.

You nudged him as you walked towards the dock.

“Race you.” You said, starting off towards the water.

“Ya cheated!” He called, laughing. 

There was something about the sound of running on a wooden dock that took you back to your childhood. Running with childhood friends to fly off the edge into the water. 

You ran till there was nothing under your feet, briefly gliding through the air until you hit the water, letting it engulf you till your toes touched the soft muddy sand at the bottom. Johnny landed next to you.

“You had a head start.” He laughed, splashing water at you. “Cheeky girl.”

“Figured I need it, considering your ex-military.” You splashed back, your handmade tidal wave coasting over his shoulders.

“C’mere.” He grinned, reaching for you under the water. He was a strong swimmer, diving beneath the water to pull at your ankles. You splashed him whenever he came back up for air, trying to make your way back to the shore, fighting against his attempts to pull you into deeper waters.

You liked water but hated sand. The way it stuck in every crevice and dried out your skin. It was only worse when you were wearing real clothes instead of a bathing suit. You didn’t mind it as much as you thought you did with Johnny rolling around in it with you.

He was straddling your hips, your hands locked together pushing against each other in a mock struggle. His wet shirt clung to his muscular chest and arms. The sunlight glimmered off the water droplets that fell from his mohawk. 

You let him push your hands to the beach on either side of your head. He was handsome, really handsome. And nice which was always a plus. The accent was also very hot. You always liked a man with an accent. 

You leaned up and kissed him. Short and sweet, really a peck more than a kiss. He tasted like lake water but what were you expecting? He kissed you back. It was hungry and passionate. You missed being kissed like this. His tongue swiping along your bottom lip till you parted your lips. 

He held your neck, keeping you close to him. His tongue in your mouth, his other hand moving to grip your waist. 

“There’s a hose round the back of the shed, if you want to clean up.” He had a wicked glint in his eye as he said that. 

“You’re sure no one will find us.” You asked, as he pressed you up against the back of the shed. 

“Promise. Just you and me.” He mouthed at your neck. 

You were slow to peel off your wet clothes. He didn’t rush, leaning against the wooden wall, his own shirt already stripped off. 

“Sorry, it’s nothing sexy.” You said, struggling to get your sports bra off. 

“You are very sexy,” he said hoarsely. He looked at you for permission before slipping his fingers under the elastic band of your bra and pulling it up and over your head. You crossed your arms over your chest. “Getting shy on me now?”

“I haven’t been with anyone except my ex in a long time.”

“We don’t have to do this. I’ll walk away if you-”

“I want to. I’m just…I think I might have forgotten how to do this.”

“We can be slow. I don’t think anyone will come looking for us. It’s lunch time anyways.”

You let him lead. Let him kiss down your neck and collarbone down to your chest. Let him take one of your nipples into his mouth. Your head hitting back against the wall as he pinched your other nipple. 

You could see his hard length pressing up against his shorts. It was big and made your breath hitch. How far would you let this go? You had no idea when the next time you could get laid would be. What about getting back together with Ale? What if he’d already slept with someone else? What if he hadn’t and wanted to know if you did? What if-

“Can I take these off you?” Johnny was knelt in front of you, tugging on your shorts. 

“Please,” you whimpered. He was quick to pull down the wet clothing. He laid a kiss to the top band of your panties.

“Wish I could say you’re this wet for me,” he chuckled. “Tell me what you want, bon.”

“Take them off, please.”

“Good girl.” The way he said ‘girl’ caused heat to rush to your core. He peeled them off you, helping you step out of them and your shorts before tossing them haphazardly over a wooden crate. He mumbled, “They’ll dry.”

He pushed your thighs apart gently. His breath was shaky against your core. Your eyes met, his glassy, blue and blown out. 

“You’re beautiful,” he grinned, lips glossy. He snapped his fingers, signaling for you to keep your eyes on his before he took your clit into his mouth. Your head hit the side of the shed with a dull thud, your eyes rolling backwards. He grabbed one of your legs and lifted it over his shoulder, snaking his arm around your other one to hold you steady. 

He slid a finger inside, curling it up to press against your g-spot. He was groaning against your pussy, almost liked he enjoyed this more than you did. 

He made you cum on his face as his fingers stretched you out. 

“There we go. Good girl.” He kissed the inside of your thigh. Rising to his feet, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Best meal I’ll have all summer, I think.”

You giggled, face feeling warm. 

“You’re pretty when you’re flustered.” He took your chin between his fingers and tilted your head up for a kiss. It was salty and warm. “You want to keep going?”

“Yes.” You didn’t want to sound desperate but your knees were shaking and you wanted him, more than anything else in that moment. He shucked his shorts off before pinning you to the wall with another kiss. His cock was hot and heavy, pressed between the two of you. 

He gripped the back of your thighs and hoisted you up. You wrapped a leg around his waist. He lowered you back down on his cock slowly, the head dragging against your walls. 

You moaned loudly, nails digging into his back. 

There was a snap. A stick breaking. Your eyes shot open, looking into the woods behind Johnny. You couldn’t see anything but that didn’t stop goosebumps from running up your body. 

“Hey, look at me.” He guided your head back to him. “It’s just us.” 

“Sorry, it’s just been a while since I’ve done this.”

“Had sex?”

“Had sex with someone I don’t really know.”

“I don’t bite unless you ask me too.” He grinned, still fully sheathed inside you. “If you want to stop just let me know, okay?”

“No… keep going. It feels good.”

“I’ll make it feel even better.” He nipped at your collarbone. 

He kept a hand on the back of your neck, holding your foreheads together, stealing kisses after any particularly loud moan he fucked out of you. 

The drag of his cock against your g-spot, his gentle coaching for you to touch yourself, his tongue in your mouth. It didn’t take long for you to build yourself up to another orgasm. 

“Want you to come on my cock. Need something to think about the rest of the summer,” He grunted. “Need to see that look on your face again.” 

“Johnny, fuck… Johnny please.”

He let go of your neck to push your hand away from between your thighs, forcibly taking over with fast circles around your clit. Your moans got higher, closer together, almost hiccuping in pleasure. Your head thudding against the shed, back arching as you came.

He kissed you as he pulled out and set you back on the ground. 

“Do.. do you want to finish in my mouth?” He groaned loudly, slowly stroking his cock. 

“Might not last that long if you keep talking like that.”

You sank down to your knees, his arm holding you steady. 

“So pretty,” he said, dragging his thumb across your bottom lip and tugging your mouth open. Somehow a blow job in the woods felt more intimate than sex in the woods. 

You took the head of his cock into your mouth, licking the precum off the slit. He held your cheek, his thumb gently rubbing against your cheekbone. It was a tangy mix of the two of you. You couldn’t take him deep, just towards the back of your mouth. It was enough for him to moan your name between curses though. He made a choking noise and filled your mouth. 

He rested his head against the shed as you wiped your mouth. 

“Sorry, meant to give ya a warning,” he chuckled. 

The two of you stuck close together for the rest of the afternoon. You were met with raised eyebrows from most and a knowing look from Sophia. It wasn’t judgmental, almost like they were congratulating you on conquering him. He was your arm candy. 

There wasn’t any of that expected awkwardness of sleeping with a coworker. Neither of you brought up the rest of the summer or what you would do after. You could both just enjoy each other’s company. Made it seem like you could move on from Alejandro. That it wasn’t the end of the world. 

Johnny had his arm around your waist at the bonfire, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. Blew out your flaming marshmallow when it started melting down the stick. From across the flames Sophia winked at you and gave an approving nod. You didn’t feel scared or anxious anymore. No nightmares could touch you. 

“I think I’m gonna head to bed,” you yawned. You and Johnny were some of the last ones out. He was pointing out the different constellations. Growing up in the suburbs, you’d never seen this many stars before. 

“I’ll walk ya.”

And he did.

The creak of the door closing behind the two of you. You wished Sophia wasn’t just a wall away. 

“Thank you for everything… today” You chewed on the inside of your cheek. 

“Can’t stand to see a girl like ya be upset.” He toyed with the end of one of your braids. “Can I kiss ya? Last one before those nosey buggers get here tomorrow?”

“Yeah, you can.”

He tasted like burnt sugar and beer. His hands on your waist, gliding up under your shirt to mold your skin around his fingers. The excitement of a secret summer fling made your heart sing. Something wild, adventurous and youthful. Something you’d missed.

There was a creak of floor boards coming from behind you. Johnny’s grip tightened around you.

“No!” He barked.

You turned just in time. It was happening again. The masked man. He had a machete in hand. In the light you could see the skull was sewn onto a black balaclava. Was it real?

Johnny shoved you behind him but Mask smacked him hard across the face, sending him to the floor. You screamed. 

“Run!” Johnny groaned, blood pouring from his nose.  

Mask grabbed your braids and yanked you backwards. Pain shot through your neck up to your scalp. He threw you onto the floor next to Johnny, knocking the wind out of your chest. 

“I’m sorry.” He groaned, his hand groping for yours.

The first hit of the machete put you into shock. It didn’t hurt as much as you thought. You screamed more out of the horror of hearing your sternum break and blood erupt from the center of your chest. 

“Simon stop!” Was the last thing you heard before the machete came down in the middle of your face, cracking your head like an egg against the counter. 

Sorry this took so long. Kinda had a depressive episode that made it nearly impossible to write 🤷🏼‍♀️

[valentine-cafe]

could i please get male!reader giving everyone from 781 some aftercare? ordering food, cuddles, reassurance, cleaning up, the works! i just wanna treat these guys rightt

(ps. congrats on the 1 year anniversary! you guys have come so far and as someone who's been following for months, you guys are doing awesome)

— 🫀 anon

˖⁺. “ aftercare touches ” : 

﹙ various characters x male reader ﹚.𖹭 ݁

. . . verse 781 x male reader !! 🍰 : 

you give them aftercare after a long session

﹙ cws ﹚: suggested explicit content  | wc : 1.2k 

﹙ receipts ﹚: thank you so much! we appreciate all of your support and love <3

꒰  other treats : guidelines ˖ m.list ˖ characters ˖ our lore  ꒱

﹙alessio 781. ﹚. . . let him help !! 🍓 : nevermind how many times you have attempted to convince this man to just lay back and let you do the work for him. He gets stubborn and insistent. Getting out of the bed to help you clean yourself up, even if his knees are shaky and he is sore.

He is usually the one who orders food, while you cuddle up to him from behind, lathering kisses across his shoulders and whispering in his ears quietly that he’s such a good and pretty boy. Fingers combing through his hair and massaging his scalp. Turning off every tense muscle in his body and allowing him to ease into you.

“You treat me too well, querido. . .” He whispers against your lips, earning a fond chuckle from your end. Soft lips pressing against his.

“Because you deserve it.” You whisper in response, rubbing some lotion onto his back to give him a little massage.

It is clear he’s about to protest, but another kiss presses to his lips to silence him. Before you hug him close and bite his shoulder gently.

“You know that you deserve it. Stop it.”

꒰  mercenary ˖ antihero ˖ punkgoth ˖ immortal character ꒱

 

﹙rishen 781. ﹚. . . puppy eyes and giggles !! 🍒 : she adores the way that you take care of her during the aftermath of a good session. Twitching a bit every time you clean her up. She’s messy and sensitive, you have to be careful to not accidentally have her spurt something again and mess herself.

Changing the sheets and getting her some fruits to enjoy as you call up Rishen’s favourite food-joint, ordering up some chicken curry to help her ease up a bit more. The soreness and ache certainly needs it.

God she loves the feel of it though. You always make her feel so amazing and she makes sure you know it too. Giggling out small: “You did so good,”’s every now and then. She wants to say much, much more. But her words end up being blurry and incoherent because she’s crashing back down to earth.

You can’t withstand the puppy eyes that you get every time you reassure her she was doing amazing.

“Took it all so well, didn’t you? You’re such a good girl.”

“I’m so proud of you for telling me when you needed to slow, you did great.”

After eating, you cuddle up with one another. Exchanging a few words before both drifting off to sleep. You make sure breakfast is ready for her the morning after, along with a nice hot bath to ease her muscles in.

꒰  hero ˖ spider-moth-mantis hybrid ˖ preppy nerd character ꒱

 

﹙talisen 781. ﹚. . . soft silence !! 🍓 : Talisen usually does not speak too much after sex. As if he is savouring the feels and tastes of everything to put it into one of his art pieces later on.

One thing you do know, however, is that he loves the aftercare just as much regardless of the silence. Your little gestures of helping him out of bed to change the sheets and run him a bath, while you go make sure that the pho is simmering. Ready to eat when he is done.

He adores when you come and wash his hair for him, you watch his eyes roll back in the skull once more from the shivers of comfort that run down his spine.

His hands trace soft shapes around your chin and right below your eyes when he’s back in bed. maroon irises fondly melting into your own.

“Remember, if there’s anything you need Tal, you just call for me, okay?”

“You took it all so well, love it when you rake your nails down my back baby, don’t worry.”

“Your bites feel so good on my skin, gege.” you chuckle. Watching him staring up at you with big eyes and a slight pout on his face. Before he sighs out and leans up to press a kiss to your lips, whispering: “you truly are a piece of art, my dear. thank you.”

꒰  grim reaper ˖ naga ˖ poet character ꒱

 

﹙rishima 781. ﹚. . . !! 🍒 : “Mmh, you don’t have to.” she usually grunts out from below the sheets as you get out to get some towels.

“I know I don’t, but I want to.” you chuckle in response, entering the room once more with a towel in hand to clean her up. Heavy sighs are the only sounds within the room, mixed together with the ruffling of sheets and towels every now and then.

With a finishing swipe to her thigh to clean up the mess you left on her, you pick her up and gently place her on one of the plush chairs to change the sheets, before putting her back in. Though she seems more insistent you come back to cuddle rather than eat.

“Darling, you’ve been taking so much, don’t you think you should eat a bit?”

“. . . Fine,” she sighs and presses a kiss to your neck, letting go and watching you walk to the kitchen with a frown and eyebrows knitted together.

“You look so pretty when you pout.” You hum, chuckling as you enter the room once more with a glass of water for her. You earn all but an affectionate eyeroll.

Sitting next to her, you gather her hair into a bun and tie it together, helping her with a sip of water or two. before joining her in the bed and massaging her hips.

“Did so well sundari. . .” you whisper to her, “you really did so well. Especially with remembering to breathe properly, good job.”

꒰  scientist ˖ genius ˖ professor character ꒱

 

﹙vespasiano 781. ﹚. . . don’t get uuup !! 🍓 : “Fuck, get back in here.” he groans, pulling you into the bed again, as you get up to leave.

A sigh escapes his throat at the feel of your warmth against his once more. He doesn’t want much more than cuddling, but at the same time, you know both know it’d be the best to get up and clean.

“Vespi, come on now. We gotta get cleaned up hm?” It felt pointless, all you’d get back was a groan and the feel of his arms tightening around you. Emerald eyes peering up from where they previously hid in your chest.

The gaze of pure, undivided love brings nothing but a smile and a sense of comfort to you. What else is there to do, other than bring your hands down his chest and sides. Gently squeezing onto them.

“You are so stubborn.” You chuckle, pressing a kiss to his left eyelid.

“Can we just lay here a few more minutes. . .” He croaks, nuzzling into you once more and sighing against your heart.

It takes a bit before he allows you to actually treat him with some cleaning and extra love. You staying around to cuddle is enough to soothe him after a passionate love-making session. He hates feeling the lack of warmth in the bed.

꒰  vampire ˖ special op ˖ lieutenant character ꒱

﹙ taglist. ﹚: | get tagged for specific posts

﹙ tip jar. ﹚: like our work? consider suporting us 𖹭 

[hannahssimblr]

The next day, I find myself there again, following the path from the beach to the wellness centre, through the hallways and to the back of the room. The guru, again, saying his bit about the present moment, and me, cross-legged at the back of the room, trying to observe it. 

My breath, my legs, my arms, my face, determined to focus, but unfocussing anyway, mind whipping away, spiralling, pirouetting like paper on the wind. This time, I stay twenty-three minutes, and then spend the day exploring. Afternoon, I eat a bowl of noodles in a restaurant without a top on, bare feet blackened from dirty floors. 

I meet an Irish tourist there, a freckled faced girl, thick, rural accent, says she’s from Tullamore.

“Tullamore,” I echo, stomach flipping. “I know some people from there.” And give her the short list, Shane and Kelly Healy, Claire O’Gorman, tacking Evie Kilbride to the end, a desperate plea for intel disguised as afterthought.

“Don’t know an Evie, but my sister’s friend went out with a fella called Declan Kilbride before. Could be some relation.”

“No, I dunno. You don’t know her, it’s fine.” I could go on about her, this girl I knew for a while. Evie, from Tullamore, like you are. I’ve a girlfriend now, though, Danish girl, and I’m in love with her. Sometimes, though, I imagine what could have been if I had acted differently last autumn. Not that I regret it, I just wonder. It’s probably normal to visualise other avenues sometimes, the road untraveled, don’t you think? Veronica? Is that what you said your name was? Do you think I’m normal? Do I seem normal to you?

She clearly doesn’t. I’m shirtless and shoeless at a noodle restaurant, bits of sunburnt skin peeling from the bridge of my nose, long, knotted hair like some kind of beach hobo wandered into civilisation. I act aloof until she goes away, leaving me to finish my meal. Then, aimlessly once again, I wander the island until sundown. 

On the third day, the meditators greet me. 

“You’re the little dude that keeps leaving before the end,” one says, and I respond with a sheepish smile. “Well, I’m back for another crack at it.” 

Jonas is with me today, colour back in his cheeks, fresh from his morning shower, fed and hydrated. This time, because of peer pressure, I stay until the end of the session, though with no improvement. Thoughts seeming louder, somehow, like rubber balls bouncing around the inside of my skull for the duration of the session. 

The fourth day, we join an evening session on the beach, the sand slowly cooling around us as the ocean shimmers crimson under the setting sun. There, it is easier to immerse myself in the present, the breeze, the birds, the waves whispering through pebbles on the shore, nevertheless, every sound reminds me of something else, the past reaching out and holding my face, forcing me to look at it. I sit in place long after the others have left, staring, unseeing, at the horizon. 

“Was it better today?” Jonas says, so quiet my by side prior to speaking, I assumed he had nodded off. 

“No, I’m still bad at it. I’m still thinking all the time.”

“You don’t need to keep coming back if you don’t want it. If it is annoying you, or you are not getting anything from it, then you can simply stop.”

“Hm. I like the idea of not thinking.”

He nods. “A quiet mind.”

“Yeah, exactly. I think it’s annoying me, meditation, like, because I’ve realised how absolutely batshit wild my head is. I’m always just… thinking about things.”

“That’s probably most people.”

“Most, but not all. I want to be part of the few that can control it.”

He makes a noncommittal sound and stretches out on the sand. Foliage lining the shore rustles in the balmy wind, and little grains of sand lift, sprinkling over my bare feet. What a beautiful place. Heart stopping, breath stealing beauty, with those mystical rocks rising steeply from the sea, and yet I’ve found myself in a mood since we touched down. Distracted, restless, unhappy. I express this to Jonas, the frustration, my near certainty I am immune to good feelings and enjoyment. 

“You always seem like that,” he points out. “Not just this week.”

“Oh.”

“You’re the most haunted man I know.”

Self-conscious, now, I rake up a handful of sand and squeeze it, focussing on the rushing sensation through my fist to avoid seeming too interested in his opinion of me. “Oh, am I? How do you mean?”

“Ever since we met, you have seemed troubled. I thought maybe you were feeling unsteady after moving, but you still seem that way. I hope it is okay to say that.”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“I used to try to ask you about yourself, in case you needed to talk about it, but you never wanted to share, so I stopped.”

“Yeah, that was a weird time for me, back then, to be honest with you.”

He pauses a while, then encourages me with a cautious “yeah?”

“It’s weird, because I thought I was fine about it now, and I am fine about it, but something about being on my own so much this month has me feeling like I’m back there a bit. I’m, like, saddled with all that old shit again. And the summer and the sea and...” I trail off, gesturing lamely towards the ocean, as though it means something to him.

“What is it about?”

A sigh, or a laugh, or some combination at the ridiculousness of what I am about to admit. Something he could have guessed, and I’m sure he’ll think is quintessentially me.

“A girl,” I say. “There was this girl in Ireland.”

Jonas is quiet. I feel his eyes on me, but don’t meet them. I grab more handfuls of sand to soothe myself. “It was so weird though, because we–she wasn’t my girlfriend or anything. She was just this girl I liked. And maybe–if I hadn’t moved to Berlin. We… I…” Breaking off, embittered. “Doesn’t matter, though. I have Astrid now.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t make feelings about other people go away like magic.”

“It’s not… I don’t love this girl anymore. I don’t even know if I did to begin with, but it’s like she’s always there somewhere in my head, like some ghost not knowing it's dead, not moving on. It bothers me not knowing what could have been.”

“You think you would be together if things were different?”

“If I wasn’t an idiot, maybe, but maybe not. We were in different places in our lives, and she was really young. A year and a half younger than me, which is whatever, but she was young in a different way. Like, she was all having fights with her friends and stressing out about random drama and what things people were saying to each other. Things for me were already so much different than that. She was fun, though. It was easy.”

“Yeah?”

“Man, she was so funny. She made me laugh all the time. She used to come out with all these things, like awkward things she’d done or various thoughts she was having throughout the day, and they were always batshit thoughts, like, not at all normal things. Hilarious. And she'd ask me after, all embarrassed of herself, if it was normal, and I'd burst out laughing and tell her honestly, like, no. And the way she’d say this stuff. Like she knew it was fucking weird, and it was, but it was what I liked most about her. She felt like she could share it with me. I dunno who else she talked to in that way.” I hesitate. “She also, um, liked me a lot. Sometimes I think that maybe that’s the reason I spent so much time with her. Like, I craved the attention, or something, but that makes me feel like I’m actually horrible, so.”

“It’s nice to be liked.”

“Yeah. She obviously thought I was great, and stuff. She laughed really loud at everything I said, and was always agreeing with my opinions, telling me I was right, which I loved. In hindsight, it makes me think I’m awful. I'm thinking maybe all this is me grappling with the guilt.”

Jonas makes a thoughtful sound, and when I glance at him, he’s looking not at me, but out to sea. The final apricot streaks in the sky tossing a slash of light over his cheek. “Maybe you don’t really miss her, but the way she made you feel, and the person you were back then.”

“Oh.”

“What?”

“That was awfully profound.”

He chuckles. “I’m happy I could offer some insight. Maybe you are apart for the best, you and this girl… What is her name?”

“Evie.”

“Evie. I imagine that being with her would have meant giving up some part of your life. Maybe not moving, or trapping you both in a long distance relationship.”

I shudder. “Yeah. That was my justification. But I guess now I see the fuller picture, too. I don’t think we would have worked long term, in terms of what we both needed from each other.”

“You are talking about sex now.”

“Basically.”

“You didn’t do it with her.”

“No. One time, almost. I knew I could have, but it was obviously not the right moment. Like, she was definitely– Um. I was planning to move away and just leave her there, anyway, so. It’s weird, though, to have all these feelings about someone I never had sex with, when I've done more with others and felt less.”

“You haven’t seen her since you moved away?”

“No.”

“Maybe if you do, you’ll feel differently about her, then. Sometimes, for me at least, I realise my mind has created a story about another person that isn’t true. Like somebody I'm certain I don't like, but I meet them and remember that they are perfectly pleasant.”

“God, wouldn’t it be weird if I saw her again?” I muse. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’d see her and be like ‘oh, she’s actually just some girl.’”

He shrugs. “Maybe she is, as you say, some girl. Perhaps she simply represents something to you, and reality will disappoint you.”

The prospect of this is devastating and freeing in equal amounts. Evie, an invention. An ordinary girl I projected my hopes and dreams upon. Easier to let go of, in that case. Less a real girl than a mirage.

I imagine for a moment, somewhere in the distant future, running into her at some fictional supermarket. I’m picking up some lemons. She’s got a baguette in her bag, and we smile and exchange pleasantries. She’s doing well. Steady job, bought a house last year. I’ll search her left hand for a ring and find one. A strange feeling to see it, to imagine who the someone-else might be. Though I’m married, too. A baby on the way. “I always thought you’d be a good dad,” she’ll say, and I’ll nod and say yes, I kind of always imagined a family. We’ll talk for a minute, pleasant, but brief. Her, a strange woman, and I, a strange man. Knew each other once, a long time ago, teenagers on the Wexford coast, a summer that tasted of sea salt and ice cream, so long ago now we can barely remember it. Memories bleached and faded like old photographs by a sunlit window. “Goodbye, now,” I will say at the checkout, and I will go out onto the street, and never see her again. It won’t matter, for I no longer focus on the past. Barely think of it, never dwell. Enjoying, at last, and concerned only with the present. Content with all the things I already have, and never again cursed to wish, yearn, want for anything more.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[mjis0nfire]

DPxP5 - Skin-Deep Beauty

Ann has always been hyperaware of how people look at her.

Disapproving looks from teachers and peers. Smirks and ogles from boys. Jealous glares from girls. Stares from Kamoshida. Curiosity from Ren. Worry from Ryuji. Admiration from Yusuke.

She wasn’t naive enough to think that Amity Park would be much different. So walking through the halls that first week, she doesn't pay them much mind.

The nerdy crowd in awe. The jocks scouting their new ‘prey’. Double-takes from just about every underclassman at the school.

Most of it is due to her odd company - turns out the son of a family of ghost hunters, a hardcore eco-goth, and a self-proclaimed lady’s man/tech geek have a bit of a reputation. All outcasts in one way or another. Something that she and the others from Shujin easily connect with. They decide to stick together as a band of seven by the end of that first day. And eventually, eyes fall off of them.

Only one crowd was unfazed by her company - or rather, incensed by it. The popular girls - or the 'A-listers' as Sam liked to call them, with all the sarcasm and derogation she can muster.

From what she's said, they’ve barely calmed down since freshman year. Cheerleaders, dating the bullying jocks, obsessed with their looks and new trends, catty and shallow bullies in their own right… They're walking stereotypes, honestly.

And Ann can feel the insecurity in every glare. It’s almost comical.

Still, she barely gives them a passing glance. And advises Sam to do the same. After all, she's dealt with worse.

A comment that gets a look of curiosity and concern to her host sister's face, but she doesn't press the issue.

Eventually, Ann is caught by herself at her locker before lunch one day. And approached by the little clique.

“Heeyy~! Ann, right?” The head of the group of girls - Paulina - calls over, her tone sickly sweet. "You should totally sit with us at lunch today!"

Ann gives the girls a polite smile. “Sorry, I promised to sit with my friends today. Maybe tomorrow-?”

“You’re joking, right?” That blunt interruption makes Ann pause, her polite smile dropping a bit. “Those losers are your ‘friends’? Come on, you’re way too good for them.”

Ann’s expression twists a bit. “Excuse me?”

Paulina chuckles a bit. “No, I get it! New school, new people, new country - you don’t know how things work here! So let me tell you; you’re settling for the bottom-feeders. I mean, what can they give you that we can’t?

That gets her to scowl, a spark of anger in her eyes as she turns toward the girls. “For one, actual friendship. I’ve known most of that group for years, while I’ve known you for five minutes. And already you’re putting them down to try and make yourself look better?”

Paulina actually looks shocked by that response, blinking for a moment before she matches that scowl on Ann’s face. “I’m doing you a favor, newbie!”

Ann scoffs, fighting the urge for her eyes to roll back into her skull. “Yeah, right. I’m not interested. Not today; not ever.”

The girls scoff right back, offended. Like she should care. The blonde in the group - Star? - she growls something about her ‘regretting that’ before the group finally walks off in a huff.

Ann sighs, mumbling to herself in Japanese as she finishes up at her locker. Just venting remaining frustrations to herself. Once she finishes at her locker and bumps into Sam on the way to the cafeteria, there’s a smile back on her face, eager to chat up her host sister to forget that little encounter.

Sam doesn’t tell her that she heard the whole thing from down the hall. But she certainly smiles wider as Ann walks with her to lunch.

(And as promised! @galaxy-turtle-genesys )

[norwegika]

Stardew valley rant:

I’ve recently been really getting into the life of spouses after you marry them, because for the majority of them, they kinda just stick at home, occasionally visiting family or friends. And those who do still do stuff, it never changes. Maru always works with Harvey at the clinic, Emily always works for Gus at the saloon, nothing really changes in their lives besides a new, much more sedentary lifestyle. I really would like for the spouses to get new hobbies and stuff when they marry you, so here’s my little ideas/headcannons, bachelorettes first!

Abigail: She begins to work on her adventuring skills in the mines and you’ll find her on every fifth floor, going further and further. She’ll give you gems from her travels, and eventually, when she reaches the bottom of the mines, she’ll start going to the skull caverns where she’ll give you iridium and the occasional prismatic shard. Something cool that could happen would be the addiction of an elevator to the skull caverns as she travels further down, every 25 floors. She would also become a member of the adventurer’s guild and serve as Marlon’s apprentice, taking over the guild on some days or opening a branch in the Calico desert that she mans sometimes.

Maru: Maru never really branches out beyond her personal inventions, so I think there could be a quest where she asks you for a new wing of the house that she could use as a workshop. This wing would be constructed by Robin, would be unlocked at 20 hearts, and would cost 750,000 gold, 250 hardwood, 10 iridium bars and 10 battery packs. Then, you could accept quests from Maru every once in a while and unlock new inventions that she made that would increase qol. Maybe she could give you a crafting recipe for auto-petters, she could make a device that automatically plants grass in meadows for your animals, a machine that can increase the quality of items by using a resource or something, the possibilities are endless!

Penny; Penny is always caring for the children of the valley, and I think it would be great if when you marry her, like Maru, you eventually get a quest that allows you to build a school for the kids, possibly utilizing the space to the left of the community center. Maybe then we could have another mini-festival where you can see the children of stardew valley show off their work, maybe unlock a “Talent Show” cutscene where Jas, Vincent, and Leo show off their skills fr. This idea is more underwhelming than my first two and could definitely be improved.

Emily: I think as you progress your post marital relationship with Emily you could help her convince Sandy to move to the valley and have someone else take over the Oasis, learning Sandy’s real name, unlocking special cutscenes with her, etc. I also feel like Emily would have a little workshop where she makes clothes and you could unlock a system where she takes your gems and a clothing item and combines them, giving your clothes a buff, like combining Topaz with a shirt gave the shirt a +1 defense buff, etc. Emily could even start a clothing line and you could gift these clothes to townspeople and get new sprites and portraits for them :D

Haley: After marriage, Haley does literally nothing but see Emily once a week. This needdsss to change, so I think she could discover her passion for photography again and start a blog about the valley, which would unlock a building to the right side of the Bus Stop: the Tourist Center. You could open a tourist center with Haley and occasionally get tourists that come to the valley, similar to the tourists at the Stardew Valley Fair. These tourists could roam around the town for a bit, and you could unlock new dialogue with the townspeople about the tourists, like “These tourists are really boosting the community economy!”

(Cc specific) Leah: Leah would start hosting art classes in the community center every Wednesday! Every month, the group of people who decided to attend could make a new painting that could be hung up in the community center, orrrr you could unlock a new building between the Blacksmith and the Movie Theater/JojaMart, where you could see the different art pieces and could have a new festival, the stardew valley fine arts conference, where the Famous Painter Lupini could host a talk with the artsy people from the valley and Zuzu City, and you could get new clothing items, a cutscene, dialogue, new paintings and sculptures, etc.

I hope you liked my insane Stardew valley yapping session, I’ll do bachelors tomorrow probably :3

[itsascreambaby96]

passionate scissoring w robin!! seeing her eyes roll back into her skull while she lets out the cutest lil sounds into your ear!! rutting against each other while holding onto the other for dear life and muttering i love yous!!

Oh my yes yes yes! Thank you for the request!

Warnings: 18+ MDNI!!!!!

Pairing: Robin Buckley x Fem!Reader

Sounds Gay. I'm in.

You and Robin were in her room making out for a couple of hours now.

Both your lips swollen from the kissing and both of you covered in hickeys.

Robin was the one to suggest this new position. With red cheeks she admitted seeing it in an adult video once. You knew what she ment and were totally on board with it. Giving her a soft peck to reassure her.

"Don't worry love. It's kinda hot to know you watch these kinds of videos. Next time we could watch one together." You winked at her.

It made her blush even more and her pussy throb.

You started to undress her slowly, covering her revealed skin with kisses. When she was only left in her panties she started to undress you. She wasn't able to resist playing with your boobs though. You knew it was her favourite thing to do so you let her suck on it. You moaned softly, ranking your fingers through Robin's hair, making her hum against your nipple that was in her mouth.

Your head lulled to the side as the tip of her tongue flicked over your perked nipple.

You let her continue for a little longer before gently pulling her back and kissing her hungrily. When you two parted her eyes were blown with lust. A sting of saliva still connected your lips.

With quick movements you two got rid of the remaining clothes and you positioned yourselves. It was a bit awkward at first, finding the right angle, making it comfortable for both of you and not have a cramp in your legs, who were also somehow in the way. Once you do got it right you looked at Robin for confirmation. She nodded eagerly, holding onto one of your legs, while you held onto her.

Slowly you started to roll your hips against her. Your clit catching hers making the both of you moan.

As you looked at Robin she bit her lip hard. You gave another roll and her mouth dropped open. She somehow pulled you close connecting your lips again. Her hips started to move in sinc with yours. It wasn't fast but it was sensual. You panted and moaned against her lips. One of her hands was squeezing your hips, encouraging you to move just a little faster, which you happily obliged.

Still slower than your guys usual pace but you wanted to savour this amazing feeling.

You moved your mouth to her throat to suck another hickey onto it. Her eyes rolled to the back of her skull as you sucked on her special spot, your clit rubbing against hers. She let out the prettiest sounds you have ever heard. Both your and Robins slick coated your thighs, the sound you two created was weirdly erotic.

You moaned Robin's name, all breathy and needy, and she snapped her eyes open to look at you. The sight of you only added to her arousal. Your lips were swollen and parted and your eyes hooded, a soft sheen of sweat visible on your body. Robin's heart skipped a beat at the sight of you. One of her hands pulled you closer, almost kissing you. An intense look ok her face, studying every inch of your face. Her thumb brushing over your bottom lip, entranced by every sound that escaped you.

"You are so darn pretty..." Her eyes never leaving your lips.

You couldn't wait any longer.

"I love you so much" was what you mumbled before you pressed your lips against hers. Never enough. The taste of her was intoxicating to you. No matter how often you and Robin kissed it would never be enough to you. Your tongue licked over her lips, almost forcing it inside of her mouth, which she happily let happen.

Both your tongues danced together. Massaging the muscle. All the while your hip movements began to pick up their pace. Everything felt so good. Her hot skin against yours, her mouth catching your every moan, her hands squeezing your plump flesh wherever she could. You were growing so hot.

A particular thrust of Robin's hips made your head snap back. The feeling almost sendiny you over the edge.

"Fuck I love you!" Your pupils were blown wide with lust as you looked at Robin. Her eyes were closed. Her pale skin was flushed, starting at the swell of her breast. Her cheeks were a deep read, the freckles on her skin almost glowing. Her while skin was glowing from the sweat. You wished you could take a picture of her right this moment. But that would have to wait for another time.

Both of you gripped the other one tighter, your movements becoming erratic. Both chasing your orgasms.

Robin was the first to reach her peak, crying out in pleasure as she came against you, her head thrown back and her eyes rolled back as well. Her beautiful pink lips forming the perfect 'O' shape.

You moved desperately against her, trying to reach your own end as well. It didn't take much longer of your fast pace to falter as you finally tipped over the edge. Chanting Robin's name over and over again as your orgasm rolled through you.

Finally your hips slowed down and you fell backwards onto Robin's bed. Your head almost falling off of the end of it. Your eyes were closed as you panted, exhausted from the exercise.

Then you felt Robin climbing on top of you and laying down on you. A soft smile formed on your lips as you could feel her planting soft kisses on your face.

As you opened your eyes you were met with Robin's sparkling blue ones. Her cheeks were still rosy making her freckles pop. She had a sweet smile on her face and it made your heart swell. Not being able to resist you gave her a soft kiss, making her hum contently.

"This was really nice."

"Yeah? You didn't think it was weird or anything?"

"Not at all Robin. I really enjoyed it."

"Good. Me too. If that wasn't clear." You both giggled.

"So, do you have anything else you want to try? You know from all the porn you are watching?" You were teasing but it didn't fail to make Robin's face heat up again, her blush darkening. She sat on your hips hitting you with a pillow, to hide her own embarrassment. She could hear you laughing.

"Don't worry I won't tell anyone. And as I said, I think it is kinda hot." You wiggled your eyebrows, making Robin giggle and hit you again with her pillow.

[thisuserislilsilly]

Synopsis: The years go by, but Jubik never forgot that day.

Pairing: Jubik x Ascilen (baby boy of @jaghatai-khock) Aureus from the same OG creators makes an appearance too

Genre: Drama/angst/PTSD mentions/ gore

TW: Blood, gore, angst, depictions of PTSD

Goblin tag squad: @cardinalcanis @finchly-tintinnabulation @artemisareia @echo-of-damnation

@meervalv0 @jaghatai-khock

The past isn't Merciful

Jubik had being sitting outside of Ascilen room nervously tapping his foot against the floor over and over, each time faster, his leg becoming a blur f speed. His eyes were fixated on the ground, his hands fidgeting with a cup of Mjod and a cigarette the serfs of the Merciful had brought him after the scandal he had just made.

He made passed a hand through his forehead, doing tiny circles in his skin to calm himself down, to shake off that memory from his mind. He had exploded there, to Ascilen, yelling and waving his hands around about how little did the Merciful seem to care about her baby, about the birth, the whole thing; treating it as another simple operation when it had been maybe the most important event in their lives, and Ascilen had been so nonchalantly every step of the process, from the moment he knew he was pregnant to the moment the Apothecary had showed them their little, precious daughter.

Some slow steps coming his way snapped Jubik out of it, he glanced upwards to see Aureus there, followed closely by what seemed to be a serf in case he needed some assistance; although Jubik knowing him for as long as he had suspected Aureus would rather fall to the ground or die before asking for someone else help.

"I heard what happened..." Aureus spoke softly, sitting down besides Jubik, glancing at Ascilen room and sighing "That memory again?" "Yes...again" Jubik returned his attention to his fingers fidgeting nervously, he was still tapping his foot on the ground "Have you spoken with him at all afterwards?" Ascilen guessed the answer before it came out of Jubik lips "I don't think he wants to hear that story now, specially with the girl in his arms" "You told me it was a woman...?" Aureus raised an eyebrow inquisitive "Fuck...I never told you the rest of it" "Heh, well, we never really got a chance to speak without formalities after the fuckers attacked the system" Aureus offered a weak smile to his friend "Wh-you want to hear it? Now?" Jubik raised his gaze at Aureus again, trying to spot any malice in his words "If that gives me further insight as to why you ran off the room shaking and tossing a servo-skull against a wall, yes" Aureus punched Jubik arm lightly "I guess..."

Jubik inhaled deeply, taking another drag out of the cigarette, tossing it to the ground and crushing it under his foot. Then he stared at the ground for a couple of seconds, lost in thoughts; minutes silently passed until Jubik started speaking without any notice, it began as a whisper that raised in tone once he realized Aureus could barely hear him over the serfs passing them by in the hall.

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

The Indomitus Crusade had tossed us Nomads truly into the unknown, to places we could've never imagined or believed it was real if we hadn't seen it for ourselves; I was young in those days, on the mechanized company, can't remember if it was the 5th or the 6th and to be honest now that I only serve in the 10th I do not care if I am imprecise in that regard. We were tasked with being the back-up that would finally put an end to the rebellion on Fallorica IV, a pleasure World that had not been prepared in the slightest for an attack in the size and scale of the Death Guard and the worshippers of Nurgle; I will forever curse those who follow that fucking God, they had not allowed me to eat one meal since then that doesn't remind me of the pulsating tumors on a child infected with their "gifts" or a woman holing her dead child while maggots ea away the little bit of eyes she still had to see what was happening around her. It was hell, but not what made me react this way when I saw Ascilen giving birth to our girl.

No, it was the road to Kamusha. We were approaching the edge of that hill, the one every rich scumbag had once used to exploit their most wildest desires on big residential towers that, as I knew later, were used to be filled with the brim of those bureaucrats and entrepreneurs that danced, drank, fucked and ate everything they could while some poor guy had barely enough to pay for the clothes he was wearing. Those towers were no more than rubble that had rolled downhill and was now used for cover by Imperials and heretics alike. Each side trying to claim the hill for their own and have advantage over the plains below, so that was why we were there, to blow up stuff with the land raiders and repulsors and give the land troops a way up without getting shot before they reached the top.

On the way there was this camp of refugees, people that had been lucky enough to survive and flee the combat zone but not enough luck to know how to use a gun and make themselves useful for the Astra Militarum, so of course the regiments found nothing better for them other than build some improvised camps and help them with a big fireplace that they had to constantly put out at nights as to not signal the enemy that they were held up there. We were passing the first tents when the vehicles suddenly stopped, the gunners on top screaming at folk to get out of the way or else they would shoot, but nobody, not even the gunners themselves, actually believed that the Astartes would go through with any of their threats.

I was called by one of them to get up there and help with the few civilians that were already climbing n our land raider, get them out of there, simple pick the person up by their clothes and as gently as possible throw them back to the crowd below. As I began to help the gunner on that front, the tank began to slowly advance when the crowd understood what was going on, however that too made their demands for any kind of supply even more insisting; throwing their hands in the air towards us to grab onto whatever they could.

In the edge of the mob there was this...woman; by the Emperor I can't even remember what she was wearing or how her hair looked like, I just have the image of a young woman tucking her baby close to her chest, the child couldn't had been older than a year or a year and a half. She was in worst shape than the rest, that I remember clearly, because something inside of me just...had to help her, more than the others who could be able to fend off for themselves a day more or bother some guardsman for food; that mother wouldn't had a chance at doing those kinds of bargain taking into account her kid.

The gunner beside me, about the same age as me, taking into account almost the whole company had gotten out of the Neophytes around the same time that they had joined the 5th, groaned in frustration as she noticed the same woman I saw before; he bumped my shoulder to get my attention.

"To the Warp with this, someone hand me a stash"

I looked at him, shrugged, poked my head inside the land raider and grabbed one of the little bags we had stashed the supplies by the exact amount we needed for a day, upside down like that I saw the local interpreter we had brought with us if the locals couldn't understand High Gothic. He saw me, his eyes were injected with surprise and fear "No, Lord, don't try to give anything to them", he said with a trembling voice; I ignored him and returned to the surface giving the little bag to the gunner.

Taking advantage of how slowly we were moving, the battle-brother managed to calculate his throw perfectly; the bag flew in the air and landed at the woman feet. I remember the smile, bright despite the little teeth she still had left on her mouth. She picked it up with one hand as she shifted the child to his left; I remember her grip on the kid, gentle enough to not squeeze it, strong enough to not let them fall when they leaned.

The mob then opened a path big enough for the land rider to speed up, with our driver not wasting more time and hitting the accelerator with his foot while silently cursing in Cthonipem. The gunner and I kept looking at the group; then we held our breath as we understood the thing that had made the mob go away was their fixation on the bag the woman was now opening focused on the zipper while mumbling something to her kid with a smile. It didn't matter how much I screamed to get her attention, nor the threats the gunner made and the couple of shots he fired at the mob's feet.

They didn't back up. About five or six from the group swarmed on her. A second later, more joined the attempts to get the bag off from the woman. They did, she fell to the floor with the kid, the baby was crying. I remember it because it began to cry harder when the fight between the mob for the food began and the stomping commenced. The kid was far away enough, thank the Emperor, to not be stamped or squished by the bodies of the faceless mob that fought each other for getting those rations of food; the mother of that child wasn't so lucky. I watched it...I was low enough on the Land Raider to see brief glances at her body as it was kicked, punched and caused people to fall on top of her. I knew she was dead, I knew there was nothing I could do, but I felt compelled in jumping down the raider and separate the group.

I interrupted them when the bag was torn apart and the food spread everywhere; I tried to make them regain some sense of what they were doing, to control themselves. I saw the angry faces, the drive fueled by just one thought, one feeling, emotions controlling the body more than the mind could. There was no rhyme or reason; I could bet for my life that none of those citizens knew what they had done at that moment, it was just to survive, right?

They punched me, I felt nothing because of the armor, I could not move though, they surrounded me, demanding more food, for everyone, for nobody in particular. They scratched me, clawed the armor to rip it off from my body, broke there feet while trying to kick me. One of the vehicles that had stayed behind, a Repulsor, who they had just seen a Marine being swarmed by people, opened fired upon the mob; I saw each life leave their eyes as they were shot down, the last breaths, their last words in a language I couldn't understand and never wish to learn. It was brief, but I see those faces every time I wake up and when I go to sleep; just resting in Ascilen arms has made me sleep easily.

And when I saw Ascilen hold our baby like that, Aureus, I saw the woman again, talking to her kid about how lucky they had been by receiving such a boon from the Astartes that had come to make their miserable lives a bit better.

You asked me what had made me exit the room shaking, well...

There it is.

[pilferingapples]

started re-watching LM 2K with some friends who also make terrible life choices

went in honestly thinking , Hey! maybe I am forgetting things! Maybe it's not as bad as I remember it being!

well 1.5 hours into this 8 hour fever dream and I can say. I was forgetting things all right! quite a lot of things! but whoo boy I owe Past Me an apology, this is bad and every new Thing I Had Blocked Out Of My Mind makes it worse

Thoughts, While I Have Them:

why does it start literally on fire

I'll give John Malkovert this: he does seem disturbingly horny for the idea of inherent traits and inborn social hierarchy. Beeblevert didn't really seem to know what to do with his phrenology displays; Malkovert whispers to them lovingly at night and probably licks them. This guy feels about eugenics like Grantaire feels about Enjolras. This guy is messed up.

( ...filmmakers know that when they've got someone with lots of human skull measurements and phrenology and Types of Human displays, they're saying that character is into eugenics, right? I'm not saying it's a bad move, it can be very accurate and telling ,but like. They get what that's doing there, right? RIGHT???)

The dialogue...is bad.... it's so bad...

"yellow is the color of happiness"

this timeline is a shambles. Fantine doesn't have Cosette until after Tholomyes is gone, and then apparently holds out for YEARS in Paris, since Cosette is if anything a little older than her book age when Fantine meets the Ts; meanwhile Valjean doesn't get out of prison until AFTER Fantine has moved to M-sur-M. Which of course means there's no factory for her to work at!

...but then after Valjean (very intentionally) steals from Petit Gervais, we cut to Fantine working in the factory. The Nettle Cloth factory . Which means Fantine was doing SOMETHING before Valjean showed up to Disrupt the industry with his Tech Breakthrough but like. What. If she was doing something else then why doesn't she go do that some more after she's fired? Because she very much doesn't, she goes right to attempting sex work...badly

like trying it with Javert first Badly

and then he threatens to arrest her but doesn't?? who is this man, what kind of Javert is he ffs . Letting a Poor go unarrested? Seriously this doesn't even scan with his characterization in this series

Instead he starts stalking Fantine and giving her Helpful Hints. He comes in right after she has a client?? and tells her to go to the circus??

She goes and finds the dentist and tries to get him to pull TEN of her teeth bc for no reason he's giving 4 francs a tooth instead of 20 for the fronts. The dentist is the only character in this show with sense and says NO THAT'S TOO MANY TEETH, and he just cuts her hair instead And listen we've got another Fantine with Mostly Straight Brown Hair , it's not even that long, and I'm sorry but there's NO WAY that's worth more than teeth, why do adaptations keep doing this

also why do they keep making Fantine so passive, so dependent on people telling her what to do? She makes bad choices sometimes--often even!-- but she Makes Decisions and fast, she goes all in without any pushing, that is a defining part of Fantine's character! but everything she does here gotta be because someone told her she Should

another one where Javert inexplicably goes to M sur M to see Cosette. Why? What possible reason for this?? he almost seems like he has a weird crush on Fantine rather than JVJ but that's. That's incoherent, for this character. even in this series!!

I've written so much and haven't even gotten to Valjean officiating a wedding for, apparently, a famous former sex worker in the town ? this is mentioned once and I don't think it'll ever be relevant again

1.5 hours in, Points For: a very cute little donkey, Petit Gervais having his Marmot, some very nice architecture, Baptistine existing

Unpoints for: everyone's bafflingly inconsistent characterization, the absolute mess of a timeline, Myriel still living in the palace but letting homeless people sleep on the floor?? , lots of very pointless Walking Around Time , Thenardier Sex , why do directors think I want to see them get it on, Please Stop

[writemywaytoyourheart]

Bedeviled | Chapter 7: Adamantine

Pairing: demon!jungkook x female reader

Genre: E2L, romance, drama, angst, horror

WC: 8.6k

Warnings for this chapter: strong language, anxiety, mentions of a night terror, cruelty, physical violence, gore, blood, fear, frightening depictions of Hell and people in it, hopelessness, some tEnsiOn, pls kindly let me know if there's anything I missed. this chapter could be disturbing for some readers, pls read at your own discretion.

Previous

When you open your eyes, it's a little disorienting to see that the sky hasn't lightened any.

If anything, it's gotten even darker. You're not sure how long you were asleep. It doesn't really matter though, because no matter how much sleep you get, the exhaustion that has seeped into your bones won't be lessened. 

Not until you leave this place. 

"Give that Flame to your stupid little bastard friend, your ass is never leaving this place. Glad you finally figured that out."

You put your hands over your eyes, still lying on the ground. After a moment, you rub your eyes, then uncover your face. 

The first thing you notice is that the fire is no longer there. 

That might explain why it feels darker than it did when you fell asleep. 

The second thing you notice is that the rock he was lying on is empty. A quick glance around shows that he is, in fact, gone.

You sigh and rub the back of your neck as you sit up and look around once more. 

Your left wrist is starting to throb again, the bottoms of your feet already feeling swollen and tender even while you were asleep. 

Curling up and tucking your face into your knees, you try to conjure up the dream you were having, before it had turned into a hellish nightmare and woke you up. 

You were in the old swing; Tae was pushing you gently as you looked up through the tops of the trees. It lasted for quite a while. 

You and Taehyung were whispering and laughing about whatever the newest gossip in the village was that day. You met Tae on your tenth birthday, he was thirteen and new to the village. The two of you became friends quickly. 

The dream you were having took place when you were sixteen, there was so much to gossip about at the time. Your best friend was busy that day with something he refused to tell you about, so you and Tae went into the forest to kill time before getting to know the surprise. 

It felt like the dream lasted hours, it was so wonderful. 

You miss them. 

Your friends, your older cousin, the old swing. 

You can't wait to leave this place and see them again. 

"Apple!" The cheerful call reaches your ears, an echo of the dream.

Tears spring to your eyes as you lift your head and see nothing but dark dusty terrain that stretches on and on as far as the naked eye can see. 

"Apple!" The way the sound of your nickname being called morphs brings a pit to your stomach, "Apple!!"

His tortured screams bounce around in your head. 

"Help me!!"

You cover your ears, pushing against your skull with so much force you might actually damage your ears. 

If only you could rip them off. 

It wouldn't end the horrifying sounds cursing you with every breath you take. 

Please, make it stop-

"Looks like you finally decided to grace Hell with your consciousness."

You flinch and look up to see him walking towards you. 

"Bad dream?" He pouts at you in mock pity as you shakily bring your hands down. 

You need to take a second, not answering him as you just stare. 

"What? Don't tell me you're actually crying over a nightmare."

You wipe under your eyes to feel the salty tears that lay there. 

Forgot you were crying...

"Where were you?" You ask hoarsely. 

"Why? Afraid I might be escorting another little mortal girl through Hell?" A smirk spreads on his face, "Jealous, sweetheart?"

You shake your head, but don't bother to snap back. 

You're still trying to ground yourself and recover from the deep crevices in your mind that love to torture you endlessly. 

"You know, she's a lot more pleasant than you. We had a little fun in the second circle."

Your eyes snap to him and he laughs loudly at the fact that his little fib worked. 

"Uh huh, so you are the jealous type."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"Even if I was," you gingerly check the bandages on your feet, "Why are you assuming you're the one I would be jealous over?"

"Your little boyfriend that can't take care of himself? That's who you'd be fighting the ugly green monster over? Pathetic," he spits. 

"Not my boyfriend," you remind him absentmindedly as you concentrate on your injuries.

"Well then, if you're not the jealous type, is he?" He asks curiously.

You nod, "Yup."

That makes his infamous smirk return as he watches you. 

"If you ever wanna have some fun, little mortal, let me know. Could get him to fall for you in seconds."

Your cheeks flush at his offer and you gulp, refusing to look at him. 

The next thing you know, he's crouching next to you, too close for comfort as he says, "You might not be throwing yourself at me, girl. But that doesn't mean you don't want to. If you think I can't feel your urges, you're wrong."

You look him dead in the eyes, "Why would I want anything to do with a demon that's done nothing but hurt me and use my pain against me in every way he can think of?"

"Because you can't resist me. But don't blame yourself, no human can," he whispers, leaning closer even as you lean away, "You're just dying for a taste, aren't you?"

The way his eyes flit from yours to your lips makes a horrible flutter in your tummy that you try to push down. 

He leans so close that you can feel his cold breath against your mouth and nose.

"Is the cold-hearted demon already catching feelings?" You whisper back in a moment of desperation to have the upper hand. 

His eyes harden and he pulls away, a brief look of disgust on his unnaturally handsome face. 

"Feelings? For this wretched little hag of a human?" JK picks up a lock of your knotted hair and drops it, "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" His tone turns mocking once more. At least you got him to back up for a second, "If you think for a second I would lower myself that much, think again."

"You're already in Hell," you say back evenly, not breaking eye contact as you whisper, "How much lower can you get?"

You see his jaw clench and his hand squeeze into a fist. 

Without flinching, you brace yourself for him to strike you in the face by gently closing your eyes.

But the hit never comes. 

You gulp and stay where you are for a little longer, but when it becomes apparent that he's not going to hurt you, you open your eyes. 

JK is standing a few feet away, staring at the ground with a glare fit to kill. 

When he senses your movement, his glare turns to you. 

"You act like you're so much better," he spits, "At least I didn't condemn myself to Hell for something as pathetic and fleeting as love."

You stand up, "Why did you condemn yourself here?"

He strides over to you, snarling, "I chose to be here. I chose to have my own power, not to answer to Him, not to be shackled to some duty of the greater good for the whole of my eternal sad little life."

"Power? You did this for power? Tell me JK, what power do you have?" You ask in disbelief, "You are shackled. All you do is walk around manipulating and tormenting and stealing souls. For who? You're telling me you chose this? That you do this for you?"

"I would choose it again, every single fucking time."

You shake your head, "You made a mistake-"

"Who are you to tell me I made a mistake?!" He roars, "I'd rather be stuck hunting every soul in this sorry excuse for a world than love someone who doesn't even love me back, who makes me lower myself so far that I'll be tortured for the rest of eternity just to let them have a longer life!!"

You stare at him, saying nothing. 

It makes him even angrier. 

"Your sorry ass can't even begin to understand what you've done for the sake of love," he says the last word like it tastes foul on his tongue, "You will regret ever coming here by the time I'm done with you. But that regret will get you nowhere."

The demon gets closer, "You will soon see what suffering is, I've gone easy on you. You can cry and scream and beg all you want; He won't have mercy on you. He sits up there on his throne and throws his creations away like they're worth no more than a piece of shit."

"You said you chose to-"

"Because I'd rather rot away down here than answer to Him," the demon seethes, "You think I'm cruel, mortal? You know nothing of cruelty. Take a look around you. Look at where you are. We're here because of Him."

You look away, locking your gaze on the ground. 

He scoffs, "You know I'm right."

"You're not," You whisper.

"Whatever," he turns and starts walking, "I don't care what happens to you or your stupid little friend." 

You watch after him as he keeps walking, never slowing down to let you catch up. 

He's lying. 

Taking a deep breath to collect yourself, you start to follow. 

-

If you thought your feet hurt before, the pain radiating through them now is nearly unbearable. All you can do is stare at the demon's back as he walks, keeping yourself grounded as you limp after him. 

I'm not gonna give up. 

I promise. 

I'll save you.

You keep repeating these in your head and sometimes in a whisper to yourself. At one point though, you think he might hear you, because he looks over his shoulder and scoffs before marching ahead faster than before. 

It felt like the vast field was never going to end, but like each circle thus far, it does. There's a forest just ahead that you think might wrap around the entire fourth circle. Closing in the desolate wasteland with a ring of dead trees. 

You're not sure if the fifth circle begins in the forest though, it might not start until you're out...

JK walks without hesitation into the forest, leaving you to stumble after him, biting your tongue as your feet continue to get poked and slashed by the unforgiving earth. 

But you don't stop. 

He mutters to himself angrily, kicking stones and sticks and whatever else happens to be unlucky enough to be in his way. 

Stupid mortal. 

Stupid pathetic ridiculous sad excuse for a mortal. 

He needs to control himself, he can't lash out like you make him so desperately want to. Everything is fucked up now, because he lost control. You're the only mortal that has ever weakened his resolve and made him break. 

It's your fault he lashed out. 

Now he's fucked. 

How the hell is he meant to get your soul? 

You're already damned to Hell. You made a deal with him and he's not going to lead you out of here. You might not give him your soul, but you won't be able to leave anyway. Not without him leading you out. 

The problem isn't you escaping without giving him your soul. 

The problem is time. Other demons will eventually find you and take your soul by whatever means they can. You'll wander Hell until they persuade you to give them your soul. You truly screwed yourself over. 

He couldn't care less. 

But you also screwed him over. 

That's what pisses him off to no end. 

What the hell is he even doing anyway? 

This is a waste of time. 

He thought he could manipulate you in so many different ways. Now he doesn't stand a chance. You won't listen to him, not after everything he's done and said. 

He should never have made that deal.

If the two of you are found...

Fuck. 

Fuck, fuck, FUCK. 

JK kicks a small stone laying in his path. It flies further than any so far, striking a tree so hard it takes a fairly large chunk of rotting bark with it as it falls to the forest floor. 

He breathes heavily. 

Calm down. 

You need to calm down. Nothing beneficial is going to come out of losing all control. 

He stops short, staring at a moldy leaf on the ground. 

Then he turns to see you clamoring over a burnt log, your face twisted in pain. 

A surge of rage consumes him for a moment when he looks at you. 

Then it slowly ebbs away when he takes a few deep breaths. 

Okay. 

Okay, he's starting to regain control. 

He's the one in charge here, not you. He's the one that's dealt with humans since the beginning of time, not you. He can control his emotions and impulses better than any mortal can. You are run by your emotions, all humans are.

At some point, whether it be lust, anger, grief, or anxiety, you will be taken over and he can take that upper hand once more. 

Just stay calm. 

That's his advantage, he just needs to use it smartly. 

You stumble up to him, a look of surprise on your face when you realize he's not a hundred feet away and leaving you in the dust. 

"Why did you stop?" You ask breathlessly, the first thing you've said to him in hours. 

He looks down to see the bandages wrapped around your feet are soaked in red, not only the bottoms now. He briefly wonders if you cut the tops of your feet or if the bottoms have bled so much it seeped up the cloth until no more white was visible. 

Then he looks back at you, "Didn't want to lose you."

He sees you twitch at that, just the smallest reaction, but he caught it. 

Of course he did. 

Your eyes fluttered for a moment and your lips quivered before you composed yourself. 

Of course. Mortals are slaves to their emotions, continuously being bent to the will of them. 

The demon smothers the smirk that nearly exposes him, continuing to look at you blankly. 

"Ok, well. How much further?" You ask quietly, clearly still out of breath. 

"Not much," he says, far too soft for his character as he turns to keep going, "Maybe another hour, no more than that."

You stare at him suspiciously, then you keep walking, staying alert.

He's obviously got some new trick up his sleeve and thinks you'll fall for it. 

You shake your head and climb up onto a rotting log. 

There was no other way around it, trees and bushes on either side blocking any way but over the top.

Carefully finding the right footholds, you go slow. The last thing you need is to hurt yourself even more. It's already taking you longer than it should with these injuries. 

No matter how slowly and carefully you were going, it didn't do you any good when you made a wrong step and wood splintered underneath you. 

You lurch forward, arms flailing in the air as you scrunch your face in preparation for hitting the forest floor and probably breaking your nose. 

The sudden feeling of hands grasping you and halting your descent makes your eyes fly open. 

You're met with the darkest eyes you've ever seen, staring straight into your soul. A full ten seconds goes by while you just stare at each other. You finally snap out of it and look down to see his hands are placed almost under your armpits where he caught you. 

You gulp. 

The demon doesn't look away when he lifts you a bit to unstick your foot from the log, then gently places you down, not even straining. It was as if he just swooped a toddler up before they ran into something and placed them out of the way. 

He's about to keep walking, but stops when he feels a hand on his wrist. 

Turning, he locks eyes on your small hand clasped around his wrist, little bits of dried blood are speckled along the back of your hand. 

His eyes travel up until they meet yours, but you aren't looking at him. 

A tense moment passes then you let go like he burned you, a lump in your throat as you take a faltering step back. 

"Sorry," you squeak out. 

He doesn't say anything, just keeps looking at you.

After another uncomfortable minute, he turns and keeps walking, as if nothing happened. 

You put a hand over your eyes for a second, calming yourself before you follow him. 

-

It's strange, as the two of you walk through the forest, you can feel yourself growing more and more irritated with each step.

That in itself is not much different than it's been the entire time you've been here. The weird part is that there's really no reason for it now. He hasn't said a word, neither of you have, not since you apologized for grabbing his wrist earlier. 

He hasn't insulted you, hasn't antagonized you in any way. 

So, why are you getting annoyed?

You shake your head, as if the physical action would somehow scatter your thoughts into the wind and you wouldn't have to deal with them anymore. 

The feeling of being angry at someone or something, but not knowing what, is worse than one would think. You don't even have anything to think about to channel the anger towards, which makes you even more irritated. 

"We're almost there-"

"Don't bother telling me until we're actually there," you snap. 

You stop walking, startled at your own words. The demon ahead of you also stops but doesn't turn to look at you. 

Eyes shifting around the wooded area surrounding you, you tap your foot in annoyance. You're not sure what made you snap at him like that, but honestly, he deserved it! He might not have done anything at that moment, but that doesn't mean you haven't had more than enough patience with his nasty behavior leading up to now. 

He had it coming. 

When he starts to turn to look at you, you expect to see him glaring and spitting an offensive remark. You ready yourself to shout an equally nasty comeback, but it dies in your throat when you see a smirk on his face. 

Why-

Why is he smiling?

Shouldn't he be mad at you?

"Feeling a little grumpy?" He asks. 

It's such a normal tone of voice he's using that you find yourself just standing there in confusion. 

Your eyes narrow, "What's your game?"

The words come out more accusatory than you had intended, but you don't say anything to let him know that or take them back. 

He chuckles, "I don't know what you're talking about. We should keep moving though, like I said, we're almost there."

He turns and keeps walking. 

Sending a nasty look his way, you start walking annoyingly slow. 

If you have to be in a foul mood, he should too. You'll annoy him as much as you can.

JK just chuckles to himself as he hears you grumble to yourself. He doesn't care how slow you walk; it'll probably just annoy you even more. Which is quite amusing to him. 

It isn't even fifteen minutes later that you step out of the forest and onto a small stretch of prickly dirt. 

You stop short when you look ahead and see a massive river. It's even larger than the one in the cave, yet this one has no ferryman to carry you across. 

There are black gnarly mountains on the other side, thick dark smoke rising from behind them and the sound of screams echoing from somewhere deep within. 

All of your anger dissipates, your self-control suddenly rocketing back into your body. You stumble back, coming out of your stupor. 

Stay strong, ____.

You stare in horror at the sight before you. 

Not at the river itself, but the humans atop it. There are thousands upon thousands of bloody people, all different sizes, ages, genders. 

Their faces are twisted in rage as they bite and claw and wrestle each other. Blood coats them and the water beneath their feet. 

JK turns to look at you, his expression unreadable when you're able to rip your eyes away from the gory mess to his own intense gaze. 

It all makes sense now. 

He gives you a tiny nod, confirming the unspoken question in your eyes. 

That's why you were feeling that way in the forest. You must have passed into the fifth circle without realizing it. 

Wrath. 

You don't want to look; you don't want to see all of them tearing at one another violently. It didn't matter if some looked weaker than others, no one was being pitied. 

Get a grip. 

You nod, wiping at the hair falling into your face as you gather your courage. 

I can do this. 

"How do we get across?" You ask, voice quiet amongst the inhuman shrieks of rage and pain. 

"We walk."

"Will they see us?"

So far, the only contact you've had with the sinners in Hell was that lady in the second circle. The reminder of the incident sends a chill down your spine. 

None of the other prisoners seemed to have even known that you were there. 

Thinking back, you realize that in the third circle you had only seen the sinners at the beginning, you were alone with him after that. And in the fourth circle, they weren't aware of anything or anyone at all. 

Would this circle be the same?

"Does it matter?"

You look at him at his words, "Huh?"

"If I tell you they won't see you or if I tell you they'll rip you to shreds, would it change the fact that we need to cross?"

You bite your lip, then shake your head. 

"There's no other way to cross," he says, reading your mind, "Straight through is the fastest way. Trying to find another path will only take longer, this river doesn't end, and the violence won't lessen."

You nod, adjusting your cardigan as you will yourself to be the bravest you've ever been. 

"Ok."

"Ok?" He clarifies your decision, dark eyes boring into yours. 

You nod. 

"I'll see you on the other side then, hopefully all in one piece," he turns to leave, but stops when you grab his arm in a panic. 

"Wait! You're not coming with me?"

He laughs and pulls his arm out of your grip, "Why would I?" 

"B-because-"

"Whether I'm with you or not will not change what happens to you. I'm not going to subject myself to being around you during this, you're already whiny and annoying enough."

You gulp as he turns and walks away. 

You glance at the river again before turning back, but he's gone. 

"Darn it," you feel your eyes welling up with tears as you stomp your foot in frustrated anxiety. You're so scared you might actually be sick. 

There's nothing for it. 

You need to get across that river. Nothing is going to stop you, but sitting here analyzing is just going to stretch on that fear. You aren't sure if they will see you or not, maybe he was just trying to scare you. Either way it doesn't matter. 

You're crossing that river. 

Pulling your cardigan around you more and straightening your back, you start limping towards the endless battle. 

-

None of them seem to sense your presence as you first come up. 

A few feet to your right, a young man that looks to be in his twenties is being pummeled by a middle-aged man, his face a bloody mess as he tries to fight back, clawing at the elder's face mercilessly. 

Your entire body is shaking with horror and fear.

You flinch violently when you see a young woman fall in front of your feet, scratches going down her face and throat. She looks up and you see her eyes are missing. 

A hand flies to your mouth as you muffle the scream that leaves you. 

Despite not being able to see, the woman suddenly lunges at you, grabbing your arm and yanking you into the throng, shrieking at the top of her lungs in pure hatred. 

You fall to the ground and turn just in time to see her getting hauled up and dragged away by some other woman around her age. They start biting and kicking, blood spraying everywhere. 

Your mind is clouded with so much confusion and terror that you don't move for a second.

Only when you see a thin man crawling frantically towards you on all fours, his eyes huge and mouth wide in an angered screech, does it register that you need to run. 

You scramble to your feet and take off running. 

There are so many people, all crowded and all enraged. 

And so much blood.

You've never seen so much blood in your entire life. 

It's slippery and leaves a thick coating on the bottoms of your feet as you push through the crowd frantically to get away from the crawler. More than a few times, you're pushed and fall onto your hands and knees, forced to crawl quickly until you can get back up. 

The sound is deafening. 

If you weren't in a state where you're thinking of nothing but getting out, you might notice the pounding headache from all the noise. 

Finally, after what feels like forever, you see an opening. 

There's a stretch of river where not many sinners are fighting. 

You glance back and see that the crawling man is gone, probably fighting with someone else now. You push through until you're running out of the throng.

It's a relief to be able to run faster, but you're also out in the open, an easier target to spot. 

You don't let yourself stop to think of anything but getting out. 

You have to get out. 

As you run, it suddenly occurs to you that you are literally running on top of the river. 

You're not sinking. 

There's no time to think about why or how people aren't sinking, you just push the thought out of your brain and keep running. 

You thought you might actually make it. 

It felt like the enormous stretch was getting smaller. 

Then something hard smashes into you and you go flying, landing harshly and crying out at the pain in your shoulder. 

You open your eyes and see a very large man standing over you, breathing heavily. 

There are deep gashes down the sides of his face and neck that ooze with dark blood, his eyes glazed over with insanity and pure unadulterated fury. 

He lets out a bellow of rage and grabs your arms, yanking you up as you scream fruitlessly for him. 

For the one that isn't here. 

The only one that's on your mind as you feel a horrible burning pain flare up through your arms, blood seeping through your cardigan. 

You're dropped harshly to the ground, your head cracking on something hard. 

Then you're being lifted again. 

All you can feel is the scorching pain in your arms and the throbbing in your head as he smashes you on the river again and again. 

Then suddenly his harsh grip is gone. 

You cough, the dark sky above you spinning as you try to catch your breath, your whole body convulsing.

Blood trickles from the back of your head. 

You roll over achingly slow, tears building in your eyes as you gulp in as much air as you can stand. It feels like your bones are broken beyond use.

When you're on your stomach, you open your eyes to be met with a pair of bright blue irises staring back at you. You're frozen with fear before you can try to raise yourself. 

The body beneath you, trapped under the river, stares back with no visible emotion apart from despair and empty anger. There are deep black circles under the strikingly light eyes, sagging impossibly low on the pale face. 

That's why you weren't sinking. 

When you realize there are thousands of bodies trapped under the entire river, a horrified chill seeps into your bones. 

Then you're suddenly sinking. 

Burning hot hands grasp your wrists and pull you into the river.

You snap out of it and start trying to back up, unable to stop screaming, doing whatever you can not to sink and join the sullen lying beneath the water. 

But the more you fight it, the faster you sink. 

Until water rushes over your head and down into your throat. 

The darkness under the water does nothing to hide the bodies stacked up, all staring at you. Not moving, just observing. 

The hands no longer pull you, there is no need.

You continue to sink faster; screaming and kicking as the watery prisoners watch you drown. 

The blackness starts to close in, coming from all sides until you can see nothing else. Right before you lose consciousness, you feel a pair of cold hands grab your wrists. 

Then nothing.

____________________

You kick desperately to get to the light. 

The beautiful blinding light. 

But the water is quick to soak your skirts and make them as heavy as lead, which makes it harder to go up as you continue to sink into the blue water, kicking furiously. 

It's so pretty when you're looking at it from above, you'd never guess the damage that something so beautiful can cause. 

A shadow passes over the light. 

It's actually kind of peaceful. 

Then a hand grabs your wrist and you feel yourself being pulled toward the surface. You snap out of it a second before your head breaks through the water. 

"Apple, you're so stupid!" He cries, dragging you onto the shore as you cough and gasp. 

"S-sorry, I'm sorry-" you cough and choke out the water that went into your mouth, then you sit there numbly as your teeth chatter uncontrollably. 

Your best friend gathers your skirts and pulls them from the water before crawling over and sitting next to you, patting your back. 

"No- I- I'm sorry I didn't catch you."

You shake your head and offer him a smile, "I was too far anyway. I didn't think I'd actually slip and fall in. N-never happened until now," you're shaking even though the sun is bright and warm today. 

"You're alright," he assures you, pulling you into a side hug. 

You've always appreciated how he never lost showing physical affection and comfort even as the two of you got older. 

All the other eighteen-year-old boys act like they're so much better than showing affection to loved ones. 

Not him. 

"Thanks," you say sheepishly when he hands you the blanket from your picnic earlier. 

Then he sits next to you, right against your side, "You can't go and die on me, Apple. I don't know what I'd do without you."

You turn and look into his eyes, seeing something there that you've feared would come. 

"I-..."

"You don't have to say anything," he whispers, "It's alright."

You nod, then turn your head to look at the sunlit forest around you. 

I wish I could just stay here with you forever. 

__________________

When you open your eyes, you see the river stretching on; the sinners still fighting their eternal battle in the distance. 

Groaning in pain, you turn onto your side, then fall onto your back, a gasp leaving you at the impact between your shoulder blades. 

You sense the presence before you see it, so you lift your head, afraid that big man might be back. 

But you're met with the sight of the demon pacing back and forth, chewing on his thumb nail. 

"You okay?" You croak out, squinting at him. 

His eyes snap over to you and he brings his hand down, then walks over and crouches, holding his hand out. 

"Am I okay?" He says with a raised brow.

You take it cautiously, wincing when he pulls you up into a sitting position. 

"How-..." you clear your throat, "Did you pull me out?"

"Well," he stands up, "You're no use to me trapped under the river, are you?"

You wait for a moment before shaking your head. 

"Exactly. Now get up, just because you made it across the river doesn't mean we can stop."

It hurts like hell to stand, but you do so anyway. 

"You look like shit," he says casually. 

"Thanks," you respond, gritting your teeth as you put a hand to the back of your head where it's really sore. Your hand comes away covered in blood. 

Suddenly, you realize your cardigan isn't on all the way, so you quickly fix it. The sleeves are partly torn from where that man clawed into your skin, leaving blood streaked across your arms and cardigan.

"You're so fucking weird," JK says with a look of mild disgust on his face at your obsessive behavior of fixing your clothes. 

You shrug tiredly, mind still stuck in the past. 

It was so easy to wish for immortality when you were a kid, now you're beginning to wonder who would go through all of this just to live forever alone while their loved ones passed on around them. 

"Having doubts?"

You look up and see him watching you closely. 

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" You wrinkle your nose at him. 

A hint of a smile appears on his face, but he smothers it, then shakes his head. 

"If you give up now mortal, I'll give you something to regret."

Then he turns and starts walking towards the base of the looming mountain. 

You watch him for a moment, then you limp after him. 

It wouldn't have taken long to get to the mountain, but your limp makes it take a lot longer. 

Fifth circle. 

Fifth circle. 

Only four more to go after you get through this one. 

You bite your lip anxiously as you think about how long you have to pull this off. 

The circles seem to get worse with each one, how are you going to manage the ninth one? 

Do you have to actually go through it?

How long have you been down here anyway?

You're not sure if he's ever told you the truth. For all you know, you could've been down here for a week or six months already. Time is so confusing. 

You don't have all the time in the world though, and what time you do have, you're running out of it quickly. 

JK turns when he hears you stumbling, watching as you right yourself. 

He notices that your whole body is quivering slightly. Your hair is matted, and your dress is torn and bloody from the river. Your feet are bruised badly, the blood-soaked cloth still wrapped around them tightly. The wrapping around your wrist has also stayed put. 

Honestly, he hadn't noticed how dark the circles under your eyes were until now. You look like you haven't slept in months. 

When your eyes lift to his, he feels a weird pull in his chest. 

What the fuck?

JK looks away, "If you'd walk a little faster, we'd be there by now. In fact, we'd probably be at the ninth circle if you weren't so weak."

He walks away briskly. 

If he's being honest, you're one of the strongest humans he's ever come across. Your body seems to break down faster than theirs, but your spirit has yet to dim. 

Fuck being honest. 

He finally comes to the foot of the mountain, crossing his arms and looking up, trying to figure out the best way to get you up there. He doesn't want to be around you more than he has to be. There are other souls to take, he's only been able to get a couple dozen since you came. 

The demon sighs and rubs his temple for a minute before turning at the unmistakable sound of you slowly walking up to him. 

"Finally," he mutters. 

"Sorry," you whisper, "It hurts to walk."

Your voice is small and you avoid eye contact. 

...

He doesn't care. 

"If you think you can possibly handle it," he snaps, "We need to climb."

You gulp, but don't hesitate before nodding with some effort, "Ok."

"If I go first, you can see where I grab. If you go first, at least you'll have a soft landing when you inevitably fall."

A small laugh bubbles out of your chest at his joke. 

He swallows and rolls his eyes, "Just make a decision before we die of old age."

You get quiet again.

"I'll go first," you say lowly, walking over to the steep wall of jagged black stone, "Even though I'm pretty sure you won't catch me when I fall."

"Mm, you're learning."

You take a moment to observe the side of the mountain, looking at the places where you might be able to get a good grip. 

It kind of reminds you of when you and Tae climbed the old apple tree while you waited for your best friend to be done with the surprise. 

"Don't look down," he had said, "Just keep looking at the sky, little bird."

Just keep looking at the sky. 

You take a deep breath, then you grab the first rocky hold, your sweaty palm closing around it as you send up a small prayer that your hands don't slip. 

The first couple of feet are bad, but not as bad as you thought they'd be, although your injured wrist is already aching deeply.

I can do this. 

"Think you could go a little faster?" He calls up to you, irritated.

"Don't antagonize me while I'm more than capable of falling onto your head," you shout back, more than fed up. 

You hear a sigh, then focus on the task ahead. 

Do not look down. 

You gulp and grab the next tiny ledge, gripping it as hard as you can as you pull yourself up. 

-

This mountain feels never-ending. 

Your arms are shaking uncontrollably as you try to breathe so you don't pass out. You're willing to bet everything that he wouldn't even think about catching you if you fell. Not to mention your left wrist is screaming at you to stop.

"You're almost there, just keep going!" He shouts in annoyance. 

You don't have the strength to answer him. 

You don't have the strength to do anything, not to move, not to look up, not to even keep holding on where you're at. You realize this in a sudden burst of panic. Your whole body is shaking with the exertion of pulling your already worn-out self up the God forsaken mountain this far. 

"I can't-"

It comes out in a breathless squeak; you aren't able to manage anything more. 

"Just grab the next ledge, stop being a fucking wuss!"

You shake your head. You're afraid that if you let go, you'll just tumble to the bottom. It's not even funny, you don't think you can hold on much longer, your body is paralyzed with fear and exhaustion and so much pain, hands locked in place as you shake. 

"Damn it all to fuckin-" 

You hear him using every curse word in the book, the sound of little stones falling as he apparently moves.

Every prayer you've ever known is being repeated in your head. You're so scared of falling, which might be what makes it happen if you can't gather yourself in a minute. 

"Lift your left hand and grab the hold a few inches to the left, can you see it?"

You chance a glance up, then nod. 

"Ok, do it now."

You gulp, "I can't, I-"

"You don't have a fucking choice, idiot. Do it."

"No, I literally cannot physically move," you whisper, "My wrist can't take any more weight."

"Try, or I'll snap your other wrist too."

You breathe out shakily. 

If you fall and snap your neck, he can't break your wrist anyway. 

Gathering your strength, you lift your left hand, your right arm shaking like a leaf as you reach up and grab the small hold. 

But once you put the smallest amount of weight into that hand, a sharp pain flares up and your wrist gives out. 

A terrified scream is the only warning he gets. 

Small stones fall haphazardly as your right arm gives out under the extra weight and you start to fall. 

"Shit-"

Your scream gets cut off when you feel a hand against your lower back, keeping you from falling backwards. You take that moment to grab onto the wall again. 

"I can't! I can't! I can't!" You're screaming, sobs clawing their way out of your throat as you cling desperately to the mountainside. 

"I know! Shut up, damn it!" He grinds his teeth, glaring up at you. 

You can't think clearly, you're so terrified that you're going to slip again. 

"Stop crying!"

JK grumbles as he maneuvers around to climb up next to you. 

When you feel his presence beside you, your nerves start to calm down. 

"Have I told you recently how useless you are?"

You shake your head, "Not in the past hour, no," you squeak out tearfully. 

He stares at you for a second, then shakes his head. 

"I'm going to give you a boost-"

"No, no, no, no," you whimper, "I can't."

"You have a better plan, sweetheart?"

You think for a second, then reluctantly shake your head. 

"Well alright then," he snaps, "You're only a few feet from the top. I'm gonna boost you up high enough so that you can get there, but you need to use whatever miniscule amount of strength you have to get up. Do you get it?"

You nod. 

When you feel a hand on your bottom, you gasp, "Hey!"

He pulls his hand back, "What now??"

"Why are you touching me there??"

"Where the hell else am I supposed to do it?!"

"I- I-"

"Shut up and get ready."

The demon once again places a hand on your backside, which makes your cheeks burst into flames, then he pushes you up. 

You quickly grab the closest ledge you can. 

It wasn't quite the top though. 

"Fuck." 

JK growls and climbs up all the way, then gets to his knees and leans over the edge. He sees you shaking as you hold on tightly, the look on your face not far off from that of a frightened puppy. 

"Give me your hand."

You look up to see him reaching down. 

Using the last of your strength, you grab his hand, noting how unusually cold it is. He pulls you up and onto the top of the mountain where you collapse.

You're still shaking from the adrenaline of almost falling. 

"You proved me wrong, little human."

You raise your eyes and see him panting, his hands on his hips as he looks down at you. 

"Huh?"

"I thought for sure you'd fall."

"I almost did," you say quietly, embarrassed. 

"Yeah, but you didn't."

You don't say it's only because he caught you, too surprised that he's not being mean. He's actually being kind of...dare you think it...nice.

Is this another one of his games or...?

When you lock eyes with him, he's the first to look away, his gaze dropping to the ground before he looks around. 

"Well, at least you're not completely useless," he huffs, "Not that you're useful for much though."

You bite back the smile wanting to come and stand shakily to your feet. 

"Hey, at least I'm good company."

He gives you a look before turning and walking away. 

You stumble to catch up with him, your legs feeling like cooked noodles, "Oh come on, I've seen you laugh at things I've said."

"You're psychotic," he refuses to look at you as he keeps walking briskly. 

"Wait, I can't walk that fast."

He slows down just a little, enough for you to catch up. 

You smile and limp beside him, not voicing your amusement at him subconsciously listening to your request. 

The two of you walk for a while, the jagged rocks on the mountain making it take longer. He doesn't hesitate to remind you of this as you fall behind more than a few times due to the pain in your feet. 

The air is so thick with smoke up here that you've had more than your fair share of coughing fits in just the first few minutes, your lungs quickly starting to ache. After an hour has passed, it feels like your lungs are shriveled and full of the dark smoke still surrounding you. 

You'll never admit to anyone the number of times you've thrown up already because it feels like your stomach is full to the brim with smoke. He slows down every time you're hunched over and gagging uncontrollably, but he never stops, calling a short reminder for you to hurry up.

It's so strange to see him walking without a single sign of discomfort. 

JK glances back and sees you limping in a staggered line, arms waving in front of you to try and knock the smoke away from your face. You look delirious, eyes unfocused as you trip over rocks. 

He stops when your foot catches and you fall to the ground, jagged stones digging unforgivingly into your shins. 

"Sorry- I'm sorry, I'm coming," you say hoarsely as you place your hands on the ground to stand up but end up on your hands and knees as you cough weakly. 

The sound of him walking over makes you glance up to see him standing over you.

Your eyes travel from his black boots up his dark skinny jeans covered in rips, all the way up to his unreadable expression. Then suddenly he's crouching in front of you. 

His gaze scans your dirty face, noting your eyes are red and teary from the smoke. 

"How much do you want it?" He whispers, looking into your eyes. 

You blink and wipe a dirty hand on your eyes to clear away the tears as your body quivers. 

"I want it more than anything," you whisper brokenly, staring back. 

It looks like he's trying to decide something for a moment as his eyes flicker between yours, then his jaw clenches a little and he holds his hand out. 

"Then act like it."

You stare at his hand for a moment, then you place your shaky one into it. Your hand is covered in ash and grime, a stark contrast compared to his seemingly perfect skin. 

A second passes before his grip tightens and he pulls you to your feet. 

You expect him to let go and tell you to keep walking, so you're taken by complete surprise when he starts walking while holding your hand tightly. 

"We're almost to the sixth circle," he says quietly. 

"Ok," you respond softly, eyes locked on your hands. 

"I don't understand why you're so insistent on helping someone that would put you through this," he speaks up again, confusing you further, "But if you're going to be a stubborn little bitch about it, then I'm certainly not going to watch you give up so easily. Especially in the fifth circle. You could at least have a little more class than that."

A small smile spreads on your tired face as you stumble along behind him, hand gripping his tightly. 

_________________________________

Another hour passes with him practically dragging you across the top of the mountain. 

A lump gets lodged in your throat when you see a fiery red glow in the distance that grows larger as you get closer. 

When you're as close as you can get, he stops. 

The deep red smoky essence is on the other side of a gnarled line of sharp rocks that jut out of the ground to look almost like a spine splitting the two circles, the only thing keeping you from seeing the other side. 

"The Devil's Backbone."

"Hm?" You rip your gaze from the rocks over to where he looks at you briefly. 

"That's what this place is called."

"Oh."

The name is no more comforting than the look of those rocks. 

"How-...how do we get across?"

You're acutely aware of the fact that he's no longer holding your hand, but you force yourself not to linger on that. 

"There's a path through it, but it won't be easy."

"What else is new?" You joke, voice sounding scratchy. 

He looks at you, eyes squinting as he simply observes you. 

"You're the strangest mortal I've ever met."

You shrug, "It's a gift."

JK snorts and looks back towards the Backbone, "You'll want to get some rest. Think you can survive a few hours without me?"

"Are you going somewhere?"

"Would it make sense for me to say that if I wasn't?" He sneers, but this time it makes you laugh, entirely unintentional on his part. 

"I told you; I've got other things to do besides babysit you."

You sigh and shake your head, "I guess a demon's job is never done."

He shoots you an unamused look before pointing over to a giant rock that has a flat side, a small area for you to sit and be out of the way and away from prying eyes. 

You won't argue with that. 

Walking over, you see a small burnt log sticking out of the rocks and reach down to touch it. It's warm, but not scalding, so you decide it's a decent enough place to sit for a while. 

You take a seat carefully, then look up in surprise when you see the small floating fire a few feet in front of you. He always seems to make it when you aren't looking.

"Not that you need more smoke," he mumbles uncertainly, "But it gets a little chilly sometimes."

You watch him as he looks around aimlessly. 

Then he shakes his head, a scowl forming as he kicks a blackened rock, "Or don't use it, I don't really give a fuck. Just- just try not to cause any trouble. You're hopeless on your own."

Then he turns and stomps away. 

He walks behind a boulder, then there's nothing but silence. 

You stand up and walk over to peek behind the boulder but see nothing. There was nowhere else for him to go, so he must've disappeared into thin air. Off to steal more souls no doubt.

You swallow and walk back to your little stump, plopping yourself down onto it as you fight the tears suddenly coming. 

Letting your head hang for a second, you stare at a broken stick lying on the ground. 

"Don't look down, ____."

Tears blur your vision, the stick warping into odd shapes. 

A stabbing pain in your upper back makes you wince, a couple tears slipping out when you do. You lift your head just enough to look around and make sure he hasn't come back. 

There's no one. 

Nothing. 

You're completely and utterly alone. 

Another few tears slip out as you carefully pull your cardigan off, a pained gasp leaving you as the white feathery wings that have been tucked up for as long as you've been here finally unfurl and rest against the ground. 

You glance back and see that there are a few rips and more than a couple missing feathers. The usual gleaming pearl white is now dull and stained and caked with blood and dirt. 

"Ow," you whimper as you finally let your head drop into your dirty hands. A sob escapes you, your whole body shaking with tears as you let them all out. The ground is so blurred that you can't even see the stick anymore. 

The pain radiating through you is debilitating. Eventually you can't even stay perched on the stump and slowly sink to the ground, your wings curling around you in an attempt at comfort. 

Your body is failing you no matter how hard you fight it. 

Just keep looking at the sky, little bird.

Another sob rips through you as you clutch at your aching heart, your feet tucked up under your torn skirt.

You force yourself to turn your head and look up but see nothing apart from thick suffocating smoke covering every inch of the sky. 

You don't belong here.

Even as you lay on the ground unmoving, you can feel the life draining from you. 

As it has since you stepped foot into this place. As it will continue to until you can get out.

For an angel can only survive so long in Hell. 

________________________

a/n: tysm for reading babiesssssss

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[gothic-thoughts]

Just Five Seconds of Focus

(realized i only have one smut of this adorable man. Finna rectify that rn 😌😌)

Part 2! Joseph Joestar x Black Fem Reader Fluff

ModernAU, CollegeAU, Tutor!Reader, Strangers2lovers

CW: studying with Jojo, kisses as motivation, biology facts(nerdshit fr)

TW: Might b corny asf but I thought it was cute 😭

Word Count: 1064 (give or take)

“Oh c’mon (Y/n)!”

Joseph Joestar, your classmate, was always a goofy, fun-loving guy. Unfortunately, that meant he hated any work that wasn’t fun, so studying with him for the upcoming biology test was torture. Eventually, you became fed up with his whining and bargaining, knowing you needed to make this study sesh into a game or something before you both failed.

“I said no. I am not failing cuz you wanna get a new high score.”

“Ugh... c’mon, I already know a lot of biology.” Joseph whined, “And we’ve been at this for hours.”

“No, you’ve been playing Mario Kart since we got back from class.”

“One more round won’t hurt!”

“It will cuz you obviously don't know how to stop.”

“I’ll stop myself after just one more round, I promise!” Joseph begged again, looking at you with puppy eyes.

“Hm, you still like me?”

Jojo went completely silent for a long moment as if he was trying to process your words.

“Now you’re shy? You was pretty shameless when you announced it last week.”

“Yeah, but this feels like a trick of some kind...”

“Just answer.”

"Maybe, what if I do?"

“Then how about for every question you get right I give you a kiss?”

Before you knew it, his Nintendo Switch was tossed up onto his bed and he was sitting right next to you, legs criss-crossed with the biggest smile on his face. 

"What are we waiting for?!”

“All I did was blink...”

“First question!”

“You bein’ serious?”

"Yep! If each good answer equals one kiss, I'm gonna be the best damn student in the entire school! We’ll ace this test for sure!"

You blink at his sudden enthusiasm before picking up your textbook, quickly flipping through to the questions and randomly picking one. 

“Ight, first one: what’s an animal cell?”

Joseph went silent, looking up to his right side before smiling. "That would be the one without the cell wall since it’s not a plant."

You look at the question again and shrug. “Works for me.”

Jojo smirked smugly, leaning over and presenting his cheek to you. Those pretty eyes shut as he waited, making you scoff and laugh in disbelief.

“I didn’t promise anything!”

“Come on, you know you want to~”

“Jojo.”

Rolling your eyes, you sigh before gently pecking his cheek, close enough to his lips to tease him a little, leaving a glossy kiss mark behind. He pouts a little, giving you a playful, knowing ‘look’.

"Aww, come on, a real kiss."

“Jojo--!”

“Just a quick one~!”

You laugh at him and place a soft kiss on his plump lips, making him chuckle. 

"Next question~"

“Hm, where is the radius ulna located?”

"Easy," Jojo scoffed, "It’s your forearm. It’s the bone on the outer side of the forearm."

You lean over and give him another kiss on the lips, holding it for a little longer just to make the poor boy’s heart race. You quickly pull away and pick up the textbook again, flipping through it to find another question while he pouts about it.

“Okay... Why do blood cells need oxygen to survive?”

"Oxygen is also needed to make hemoglobin, the protein that helps carry oxygen. They need oxygen to move through the body and release energy.”

“See? This ain’t even that bad.”

"Ahem, aren't you forgetting something?"

“I'm not giving you a kiss for that, that was an easy one!”

“Tch, you’re the one that said every question.”

“....shit.”

Once you place a soft kiss on his lips, he sighs in relief and smiles again, sass completely gone.

“Ight, only a couple more; I don't wanna get lip gloss all over you.”

"Hey, you can get lip gloss all over me any time~" Joseph winks.

“Oh shush~” You whisper, “Now, how do you determine the age of an individual using their skull?”

"Hm, I see you're going for harder questions now. It's... it’s based on the degree of development of the top of the skull and the features of the bone itself. By studying the features and measurements, you can determine the estimated age of a person."

“Good.” Another kiss.

"Alright, hit me with another one!" He said between breathless giggles.

“One more.”

"Alright, but I want a long one this time."

You furrow your eyebrows. “A long one?”

"Mhm, a long, passionate one~"

Your eyebrows raise in realization. “I feel like my lips are gonna be dry at this rate.”

“I could keep them moist if you run out of lip gloss.”

“There’s that shamelessness from last week.”

"I’m just saying... as much as I love these little kisses, I wouldn't mind getting a more intense one soon."

“How intense are you thinking?”

“Whatever you’re comfortable with, Miss Teacher.”

“Hm... that means I'm gonna give you a good question. Why do eyes become red in camera flashes?”

Jojo thinks a second, tapping his chin before suddenly he snapped his fingers.

"It’s the...uh... it’s the red-eye effect.”

“Well, duh. I said why.” 

“Cuz... of... the...”

“Guess no kiss--”

“Wait, no! It’s cuz of the way that the light bounces inside the eye. Yeah, that’s it; the flash causes reflections inside the retina-- which is red.”

“You’re shameless.”

“And eager.” He smiles widely, “So reward now... please?”

You lean in slowly just to watch him squirm in anticipation before you finally press your plump lips to his. He sighs softly as holding your face in his hands, making sure you can’t pull away like all the other times. He’s been wanting to taste you, to take that glossy lip sheen off, and feel your tongue like he’s been wanting for weeks. 

He hums as he slides his tongue into your mouth, getting so carried away that he picks you up from your spot on the floor and sits you on his lap, keeping your hips close to his torso. His eagerness almost drives you to his point of aggressiveness and you fist the front of his crop top in a tight grip, pulling him impossibly closer. Joseph moaned loudly and placed one hand on the back of your neck while he wrapped the other around your waist. You suddenly became fully aware of the lack of air in your lungs and pulled back, panting lightly.

“Damn Jojo...”

“Oops.” He smiles.

“I might like you back at this rate.”

“You might? As if you don’t already~”

[monsterfloofs]

- The Woods -

It feels as though we are different species a lot of the time.

I cook dinner and wash dishes at the same time. You stand in the kitchen and eat, unmoving, while I pick up accidentally spilled food off the floor. You are right beside me, so close that I wonder if what you are eating, the crumbs of it, will fall into my hair.

I can't keep living like this.

Tiptoeing, dancing around you, tonight I'm choosing to do something rash, despite my best rational thoughts.

I go to the woods.

I move within the darkened house as if I am within a dream. Shadows moving as I navigate my way, cautious not to make a sound. I pack things with me, things I may need, a backpack of clothes and food and not much else.

This backpack exists in an ever cycling limbo, it is packed and unpacked. Taken in and out of the car to a point where it almost seems comical. It's packed in a rush, typically, clothing rolled into tight balls and squished down to make room. Then, as whatever perceived danger settles, the bag is taken out again. It sits around for a few days before it is opened up, and the clothes and amenities are returned to the shelves.

The thought of buying spare clothes has crossed my mind. To keep the bag packed, to keep it ready. I haven't been able to bring myself to do that yet.

"You can't possibly see lights out there," You had scoffed with disdain the day I confided in you. Lounging on the couch with the tv lights blaring. "Maybe you are crazy! My father always said you had a few screws loose." That shouldn't have hurt. Not with how many times it was repeated. Drilled into my skull.

Maybe, maybe.

Maybe you're too sensitive. Maybe you're the problem. I've never done anything other than be a perfect loving partner, so maybe, you need to reevaluate how you feel and take responsibility.

May Be

Maybe, if you had loved me, like you said you would, I wouldn't be here. Standing at the edge of the forest breathing hard as hot tears burn their way down my face. The night is chillier than I had thought. With a jacket forgotten inside the house, gooseflesh is already pebbling up my arms. I don't dare turn around and head back for it. For if I do, I think that the usual facade of living a normal life will snap me up once more. This isn't a true normal life however, it's a lie that I told myself over and over so that I could keep living the life I had. To pep talk my way through every day. If life with you isn't normal, is on the contrary abnormal, then perhaps I should start paying more attention to the other strange things I have seen and heard.

The lights in the woods, the soft hush of someone calling my name. The breeze that pulls me outside to the raspberry patch just on the threshold of the woods outside of our house. How the wind seems to breath there, as if the dirt path is the palette of a yawning mouth of some slumbering beast.

In darkened twilight, I peer down this path, this tongue and throat. Knowing where it leads is almost an afterthought. In daylight hours it leads to a small pond, a walking path. Here and now however, it feels as though it could lead me anywhere.

Taking a hesitant step forward, grass crinkling underfoot. The wind ruffles across my clothes, the breeze coming from my back. Glancing behind me, looking up at the tree leaves in the glowing twilight. The leaves don't move, but surely they should be. The wind at my back is growing more insistent. Clothes billow softly in the gusting wind, and I shiver a little at the cold.

It's a deep slumbering thicket of woods ahead, if anything a much needed walk in nature. The other option is going back to the house where I become a small timid church mouse. This question shouldn't take much thought, yet I still dither on the answer. One foot sliding past another.

One step

Two steps

Three steps

Four.

There's an all consuming silence here, in this arched bow of tree limbs. Listening to a great expanse of nothingness, that gives way to a ringing in my ears.

[stillwintering]

All's Fair in Love and Politics (a modern Nessian AU - where Rhys is running for president)

Summary: In the ruthless arena of politics, victory demands risking everything, even one's own heart. Rhysand has his eyes on the presidency. Feyre convinces her estranged sister, Nesta, to join the political campaign. Nesta and Cassian find themselves forging an unexpected bond as the campaign intensifies. But can their budding romance survive the treacherous waters of modern political warfare?

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Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Roger Salier was handsome, sophisticated, and dull as dishwater.

His manners were impeccable, and he smiled at her with a disarming ease. Their conversation flowed readily -- he laughed when he was supposed to and provided segues whenever there was a lull.

He was, in every sense, the epitome of good breeding. An eligible bachelor, indeed.

Nesta was bored out of her skull.

Roger was the type of millionaire who wanted nothing, completely self-assured in his tastes. Coming here tonight was for entertainment, something to pass the time. Nesta knew quickly that Roger didn't care about the DNC or the success of any of the candidates. He didn't even care about Hybern. To men like Roger, it was impossible to conceive of other people's misfortunes outside the walled gardens of his charmed life.

After nearly twenty minutes, Roger finally offered a personal donation to the Starborn campaign -- thrown out casually like an afterthought while demuring about how he spent the summer on a 45-foot double-masted wishbone-rigged ketch. Shortly after, an eager young woman feigned an acquaintance with Nesta to join their conversation about sailing.

Tossing Azriel an apologetic glance -- he had been pulled into a larger group by Myron nearby -- Nesta quickly excused herself, relieved.

She made her way towards the bar. She needed another drink to wash down the vapidity of the last half hour.

"Can’t stomach how the sausage is made?"

The question sliced through the strum of the party around her. She knew the owner of that voice.

"Eris," she spun on her heels to face him. "I was beginning to worry I'd have to endure the night without your sparkling wit."

His grin was all sharp edges, a predator amongst sheep. "You know I can't resist you, Nesta."

"A fact I try to forget daily, thanks." Nesta rolled her eyes. "Shouldn't you be schmoozing with the rich and powerful right now? Or are you trying to see how many people you can infuriate in one evening?"

Eris's chuckle sent goosebumps over her skin. "I miss when we used to talk over the phone," he said, giving her a hug that lingered just a second too long. "Though I prefer to infuriate you in person. It's more... intimate."

Pulling back, Nesta shot him a look that could freeze boiling water. "A masochist, then. I've always wondered."

"Only for you," he quipped, unfazed. "So, what poison are we drowning our sorrows in tonight?"

She glanced at the bar, then back at him. "I was going to ask for something strong enough to make me forget this conversation, but I doubt they serve miracles here."

"Ouch, you're cutting deep tonight. Should I be worried about bleeding out?"

"Only if you bleed champagne," she said, her tone lighter now. "Then you might actually contribute something worthwhile to this party."

He leaned in, his voice low and suggestive, "Admit it, you love our little dance."

"Maybe once," she conceded. "But even the best dances come to an end."

At that, Eris seemed genuinely taken aback. He rolled his jaw as if unsure how to respond.

After a long beat, Nesta asked, "Are you consulting for the Morgenstern campaign now like everyone else in the Speaker's Office?" She steered the conversation to safer waters.

Eris studied her, amber eyes glinting dangerously. "No," he replied.

When he offered no elaboration, she tilted her head. "I'm surprised."

"Why?"

"Thesan Morgenstern is the party favorite."

Eris shrugged, a casual gesture, but his demeanor was one of cold calculation. "I'm waiting to see how the dust settles."

"Ah," Nesta smiled. "Of course."

"Do you always think so ill of me?"

Nesta met his gaze squarely. "I think you only think about yourself."

"You're still wasting your talent for the little engine that could." It was Eris’s turn to roll his eyes at her. "Is that due to altruism or a misplaced sense of patriotism?"

"Starborn is the best candidate to defeat Hybern, and you know it," she countered.

"Maybe," he considered. Then, all levity disappeared from his posture, replaced by a menacing aloofness. "Everyone has skeletons in their closets."

Nesta squinted at him, trying to see around his sharp edges. "You've been doing oppo research on Rhys," she finally concluded.

"Nothing Hybern won't also find."

"And?"

He paused, deliberating his next words. She could see him weigh the cost of the information he possessed, and she wondered if she was willing to pay the price.

Eris's gaze roamed the crowd around them, stopping on Cassian in the distance. "Do you know how many people he's killed?" Eris asked.

That was not what she expected. "W-what?" she stammered.

"I pulled his FBI file," Eris replied, his words flat, but his eyes remained trained on Cassian. "Most of it was blacked out. It is not often that I come across personnel files that are classified above the security clearance of the Speaker of the House. Your lapdog was involved in some gnarly shit in Afghanistan."

Nesta felt her breath catch. "You are looking into Cassian," she said, surprised at how small her own voice became.

"An extremely effective blunt instrument, that much is clear even though all his mission details were redacted," he sneered as his eyes narrowed. "There was an interesting report about how Rhysand and Cassian leveled an entire town by themselves to retrieve a POW. It resulted in the highest civilian death ratio of the entire war. Did you know that afterward, the locals took to calling him the Lord of Bloodshed?"

"Stop -- why are you telling me this?"

Eris's amber eyes were penetrating as he turned his attention back to her. “Don't sell yourself short, Nesta,” he replied smoothly. “You can do better than Starborn -- than him."

Nesta felt her face flush with anger. How dare he?

"Jealousy is not a good look on you, Eris," she spat.

He showed no reaction. The soft lights made his red hair glow rose gold as he carded his hand through the strands. "You are --" Before he could finish his sentence, his eyes snapped to a spot behind Nesta's left shoulder. "Speaker Beron."

"Vanserra," a gruff voice sounded behind her. "Come, I need to introduce you to someone."

Eris leaned in for a kiss goodbye. "I'll see you around," he murmured in her ear.

Nesta turned around to see Eris stalk off with the older man. Beron made no effort to acknowledge her. She watched them cross the terrace to join a group of severe-looking men, shaking their hands. Eris's movements were elegant, sure -- every bit of the cold-blooded political killer she knew in action.

Why did he tell her this? He would only give her privileged information if it served his own purposes somehow. There was something she was missing.

Nesta ordered another glass of wine at the bar and then wandered back onto the grounds towards the elm tree where she had left Cassian earlier in the evening. Mor had fluttered off somewhere, probably wooing more donors for the campaign.

Cassian was in the middle of a heated conversation with three members of the DNC leadership. He gave her a tentative smile when greeting her but continued discussing something about the fall debate schedule and campaign finances.

She slid into place smoothly beside him. His hand briefly touched hers, like a question.

Nesta didn't bother to keep up, nodding and absentmindedly contributing a comment or two when necessary. Instead, she was turning over the new information, again and again, trying to reconcile the different versions of Cassian.

The Lord of Bloodshed -- Nesta knew in her heart that it had to be true. Cassian would have been a force to be reckoned with, lethal and decisive, with lightning-fast reflexes and all ruthless grace on the battlefield.

An angel of death.

Nesta traced the rim of her glass, unable to look up at his face. She had only ever seen one person die, her mother, and it nearly destroyed her.

I was a good soldier, he had told her. How many people had he killed during the war? How many people did he watch perish in front of him, because of him?

She wondered if there was a limit, a number to the amount of death that she wouldn't be able to bear.

Cassian cast her a sidelong glance, concern in those gentle hazel eyes. He was gorgeous, silhouetted against the twinkling light -- indulgent like he had been melded from the magical possibilities of summer nights.

How could he bear it?

At the end of the evening, when his hand brushed against hers again, Nesta recoiled.

---

When Nesta arrived at her office on Monday morning, she was greeted by a large bouquet of flowers. It was a wild yet elegant display of snapdragons, tulips, and proteas in a delicate crystal vase. The arrangement was so stunning that Nesta paused to take it in before she read the card, smiling to herself.

“It looks like you made quite an impression with Roger Salier,” Feyre said appraisingly as she came into the office a few moments later.

Nesta trained her expression to neutral as she said, “Roger is making a donation to the campaign.”

She touched the flowers. Roger was not subtle.

Feyre's blue-gray eyes flickered with amusement. "You had a good time at the fundraiser?"

For a moment, Nesta didn’t know how to answer that question. Her mind was still stuck on the wounded look on Cassian's face when she had left him at the end of the night. She wanted to be open, wanted to let him in... but now she wasn’t sure if she could look into those warm hazel eyes and not see how much violence he was capable of.

The war had always existed in the abstract for her. She read and wrote about it. She had reviewed videos and photos from the frontlines when she was reporting. She knew it had been bloody, deadly, and harrowing. Intellectually, she knew the statistics and fatality reports, but it had always been far away from her day-to-day.

Cassian -- and Azriel and Rhysand -- had lived it, had been forged by it.

How did all that killing not break him? She couldn't shake the horror from her bones.

She willed herself to not glance over at Cassian's open desk on the other side of the room -- how he had left it, clean and orderly, while he was working in Raleigh, Greensboro, or wherever else the campaign needed him. He was gone for another week. But she knew if she opened her inbox right now, she would find at least three new emails from him. He always called her first thing to check in with her about logistics and media strategy. She could hear his voice -- "Good morning, sweetheart!" -- ringing clearly in her mind before she even picked up her phone.

"It was work," Nesta finally replied, refocusing her thoughts.

Feyre hesitated, watching Nesta's posture stiffen, her jaw clenching and unclenching. "I thought the society piece in the Velaris paper turned out okay," she finally said, looking nervous. "What did you think?"

"The luncheon was a huge success," Nesta reassured her softly. "You should be proud."

Feyre's answering smile was radiant. "Thank you, again, for your help with that interview."

"You are a natural, Feyre. I'd like to set you up for more interviews," Nesta returned her smile. "Rhys is lucky to have you."

She tried to infuse the words with as much sincerity as she could. It was true -- Rhys was incredibly lucky to have Feyre as his partner. She smoothed out his rough edges and tempered his bravado.

Nesta had watched the two of them work the attendees and schmooze the donors in perfect harmony at the fundraiser, charming everyone. They made for an exceedingly handsome couple.

Feyre blushed, looking away. Nesta sat down at her desk.

"Is there anything else?"

"Well," Feyre hesitated again and then barreled forward. "Nyx's birthday is coming up in September. We were thinking about having a party for him here -- in DC, at the Townhouse. I know you always send him something in the mail. But I was wondering if this year, maybe, if you are in town then, whether you would --"

Nesta reached out and put her hand on her sister's arm. "I'll be there," she said quickly.

She felt a deep well of sadness open in her chest -- she was the cause of such trepidation, that her own sister would be so nervous to make a simple personal request. Even though Nesta didn't know how to be a part of her nephew's life, it didn't mean she didn't want to try.

"Elain is planning the party. She's baking a cake," Feyre blurted out, looking truly pained. "We -- all of us would love to have you."

Nesta swallowed, a mixture of shame and guilt swirling in her gut.

"I'll be there," she repeated. And she knew she would, for Nyx.

---

"You're avoiding me." Gwyn's voice was irate.

Nesta grimaced. "I didn't mean to."

On the last Thursday of August, Nesta cleared her schedule for dinner and drinks with her two best friends. Gwyn and Emerie had even made the trip to Capitol Hill since Nesta couldn't go far from the office. She had appointments all day with barely any break time in between. Gwyn had traveled to DC to meet with other women's advocacy groups during the day.

Now that the summer was coming to an end, the campaign was starting up in earnest. The fall meant the first round of debates. Then, the Iowa Caucus was right around the corner -- the middle of January. The remaining primaries fell in quick succession after that. Nesta suspected that by next March, they would know the party's nominee. It was shaping up to be a two-man race between Morgenstern and Starborn.

They were hurtling quickly towards the real storm ahead: the general election against Hybern. The coming months would fly by.

"Work has been insane," Nesta tried to explain. "Morgenstern has the edge on us with both media coverage and fundraising. We are trying to reach a new demographic, but our social media strategy needs to be overhauled and --"

Emerie was not impressed. "Yes, yes, we know the campaign is important." She waved her hand dismissively. "You always get like this when you're overwhelmed. But this time it feels different from your usual workaholism. "

Emerie was dressed head to toe in black. Her silk shirt was cut asymmetrically in a modern, almost architectural style. Nesta always admired Emerie's ability to pull off the most daring designs. She also admired Emerie's ability to cut through any and all bullshit.

Gwyn reached out and touched Nesta's forearm. "Just talk to us."

Nesta sighed into her cocktail. She wasn't avoiding her friends. She just hadn't decided how she felt herself.

"I didn't expect how difficult it was going to be, working with my sisters," she finally offered.

Gwyn regarded her over her own cocktail, her bright teal eyes bright and open. "Have you talked about what happened?"

Nesta shook her head. "I can't."

There was a weight against her chest -- the past crashing into the present. She could smell the antiseptic of hospital rooms in her nostrils. She had diminished all her anger and grief to an abstraction, forced it all back into the recesses of her memories where it sat inchoate and simmering.

Nesta had watched her own mother die, hooked up to tubes and wires; the cancer had wasted her body away -- she had decided to stop eating and drinking. It took ten days. Then she couldn't bear to do it again when her father asked for her at the end. What kind of daughter was she who refused to go to her own father's deathbed? What kind of sister was she who disappeared for years?

She couldn't bear it.

The depth of her shame had already swallowed her heart whole.

Gwyn didn't look away, as if she knew everything Nesta wanted to voice, everything she failed to do, and still didn't find all her shortcomings reprehensible.

Gwyn and Emerie knew, and they were still here. Nesta couldn't put into words how much that meant.

"Your sisters will understand," Emerie hummed.

Nesta downed her drink, pushing down the tidal wave of all that she couldn't allow herself to feel.

"Let's talk about something else."

---

Gwyn missed her train back to New York.

At the night's end, the three of them piled into a taxi -- drunk and giggling. Nesta was giddy with fondness for her friends. They always had a way of picking up exactly where they had left off.

"Come on, Berdara. You're going home with me!" Nesta announced as the taxi pulled up to her Art Deco apartment building.

Emerie protested, but Nesta was already dragging Gwyn out of the backseat.

"Leave me to fend for myself, why don't you." Emerie pouted.

Gwyn wobbled, laughing. "Text when you get home!" She hiccuped, her face red in the car window.

Nesta threw her arms around Gwyn's waist as they entered her building. The taxi sped off towards Emerie's house on the other side of the city.

They fell into Nesta's bed, and neither bothered to undress. They were a tipsy tangle of limbs and wild hair. It was familiar and absurd, like they were back in college again -- twenty years old and didn't know better -- stumbling back to their shared dorm after a long night partying.

Gwyn's body was warm against her as they fell asleep. Nesta couldn't remember the last time she had someone in her bed.

---

Nesta saw Gwyn off early the next day at the train station. Gwyn had to call into work sick for the morning, but the train should get her back into Manhattan on time for her afternoon appointments.

They both had wakened to pounding headaches and roiling stomaches. "I'm never drinking again," Gwyn had groaned.

"We are too old for this," Nesta had agreed miserably.

Then, Gwyn gave Nesta a bone-crushing hug goodbye at Washington Union Station.

"I see you, Nesta, and I still love you." Her parting words.

Nesta blinked back the sting in her eyes as Gwyn vanished into the throng of commuters.

---

"Miss Nesta Archeron, are you hungover?"

Cassian watched her jump upon seeing him leaning against her desk in the office.

She stared at him for a long minute as if determining whether he was really there -- it was early enough that no one else had arrived yet. He hadn't told her he had decided to return to DC before the end of the month. It was meant to be a surprise, and she was indeed surprised.

She blinked at him -- it was adorable. "Too loud," she finally grumbled, rubbing her temples.

"Tsk, tsk, indulging on a school night, were we?" he chided, grinning wide.

She huffed and dropped into her chair, resigned to the fact that he was really there.

Cassian scanned her over. Nesta was always put together, and today was no exception. She wore a tailored navy shift dress that tastefully hugged all her curves. Her makeup was natural and precise, but Cassian could see the fatigue from the previous night peeking through.

She leaned back in her seat, eyes weary and tired, waiting for him to continue. The way she looked up at him through her lashes was so devastating that Cassian felt all thoughts in his mind empty until nothing was left but her piercing gaze -- like he could only exist under that intent gaze.

For weeks, all Cassian wanted to do was see her in person, not just exchange messages and phone calls. Things had felt off ever since they parted at the Hewn fundraiser earlier in August. One moment, he was practically pressing his face against hers in the soft twinkling lights -- God, she smelled incredible -- and the next, she was avoiding him.

Their relationship felt like a pendulum, swinging close then away.

"Tell me about your big night out on the town?" he prompted.

She propped her elbows on the desk and massaged her temples. "Girls night," replied Nesta. "Please go away."

Cassian softened immediately. "What do you need, Nes?" he asked. "More tea? Maybe something greasy? Or is the hair of the dog more your style?"

Nesta shot him a narrow glance. "Is silence an option on the menu?" she countered.

"Silence and me? We're hardly acquainted," Cassian retorted with a smirk, pushing himself off her desk.

"Maybe it's time you introduced yourself to it." She did look genuinely miserable.

Cassian poured her a glass of water. "Here," he said, placing it in front of her and looking at his watch. "I'll get you more tea and breakfast after this morning's meeting."

The main door swung open as if on cue to reveal Amren, Azriel, and Rhysand. They were in the middle of an animated discussion, but all three stopped in their tracks when they noticed Nesta and Cassian.

"Cass!" Rhysand exclaimed, his face lit up.

Both Azriel and Rhys swung their arms around either side of Cassian's shoulders. Cassian laughed, letting himself settle into the joy of his brothers' company.

Amren cut through the reunion with a sharp look toward Nesta. "You look a little worse for wear," she commented dryly, drawing a sharp intake of breath from Nesta.

"Eventful night?" Azriel asked, his tone light but smug as he glanced meaningfully between Cassian and Nesta.

Nesta sunk back further into her seat.

"This one is hungover," said Cassian with a dry laugh. "And don't look at me -- for once, I had nothing to do with it."

Amren rolled her eyes. She walked purposefully towards Rhysand's inner office, ready to start their morning team meeting. She gestured for the group to follow her.

Never one for beating around the bush, Amren announced over her shoulder, “Let’s beat Thesan fucking Morgenstern.”