#me from one department to the other which will hopefully take a week

[theygender]

I have experienced my first interdepartmental nonsense at work. I think that Officially makes me a member of this office now

[incendiobrock]

Drunk Confessions {Chris Sturniolo}

Summary: Chris, Nick, and fem!reader attend the Tara Yummy party and some drunken confessions are made later on in the night.

A/N: I kinda hate how I wrote this but my account is seriously lacking Chris content so hopefully you will enjoy anyways lmao, if it's not too shitty lmk if you might want a part 2

Warnings: drinking, mentions of throwing up, super sweet, fluffy chris 🥹

“Alright, you guys have fun!” Matt said as he dropped you Nick, and Chris off at the front of the building. You could hear the music blasting through the walls as people celebrated Tara. Matt wasn’t really feeling up to going to a party which worked perfectly in your favor knowing you had a reliable DD to pick you up later in the night. Chris and Nick wouldn’t drink either but you would never trust them to safely operate a vehicle so Matt was the best choice for the job.

Nick walked ahead of you as Chris stayed by your side, his right hand lightly touching your lower back as he guided you both inside. You all had smiles etched onto your face as you entered the upbeat atmosphere filled with some of your influencer friends. Tara immediately saw you guys and pulled you into a hug, “Thank you so much for coming!” She shouted over the music.

“We wouldn’t miss it!” You replied, congratulating her on hitting a million subscribers. Your eyes scanned the room noticing the bar, officially deciding that would be your next stop. Chris’s hand never left your lower back as he and Nick continued to talk to Tara. “I’ll be right back,” You said into Chris’s ear, departing the group.

The bar was filled with people trying to order different drinks. A special menu placed in the center with some specific drinks for Tara. You ordered a vodka cran and even got roped into taking a shot with some others that were at the bar. Without your knowledge, Chris kept a close eye on you from across the room. He loved seeing you have fun, especially knowing that you had been stressed with other things the past few weeks.

You needed to let loose and have a little fun, he thought. The liquor burned going down your throat as you took your shot, using a lime wedge as your chaser. Before you knew it, you were a few drinks in, and maybe a couple shots.

You felt like you were floating through the crowd as you made your way back to your friends. You wrapped an arms around both Chris and Nick’s shoulders, standing in between the two. “Heyyyy,” You slurred slightly.

“Where have you been?” Nick chuckled, trying to keep you supported as you swayed slightly into his side. “Yeah, you’ve been all over the place tonight. I saw you over at the bar and then over by the-“ Chris began before you cut him off.

“I wanna dance! Can we please danceee?” You begged, dragging out the end of your sentence. “You guys got this,” Nick said, passing you off to Chris. “Good luck kid.”

You looked up at Chris with big puppy dog eyes, silently restating your request to dance. “Of course, let’s go dance.” He said, placing his hand out for you to take hold of. His fingers interlocked with yours as he pulled you to the crowd of other people dancing. One of your favorite hype songs came on and you felt like you were on top of the world. You were facing Chris with a hand placed on each of his shoulders while his held your waist. You were both jumping around and singing the lyrics to one another. You couldn’t help but admire him as the flashing lights illuminated his face. Maybe it was the alcohol running through your veins but you wanted nothing more than to pull him in for a kiss.

After dancing for a few more songs Chris leaned down to your ear and yelling over the music, “You ready to go? Matt is here to pick us up!” A soft smile played on your face as you nodded, head still spinning from the drinks.

Chris had to practically lift you into your seat as your body stumbled to step up into the vehicle. “Okay- Okay sit still let me buckle you in.” Chris laughed, watching as you immediately started to fill Matt in on the night. The seatbelt buckle latched into place and Chris went to shut your door and hop into the passenger seat. “Chris-“ Your voice comes out in a whine, he glances behind his shoulder looking at you worried. “Are you gonna be sick?”

You shook your head ‘no’, staring into his eyes as he searched your face trying to figure out what was wrong. “Can you sit with me?” Nick agrees and switches seats with his brother, taking over the passenger seat. Chris’s fingers found your hair as he playfully brushed his fingers through it. The drive home was about twenty minutes and you didn’t know if you would make it. Nausea settled in your stomach as the alcohol mixed with the moving car. You ended up rolling down the window to get some fresh, cool air.

As soon as Matt pulled into the garage you were lunging out your door and inside the house. You ran to Chris’s bathroom, not having enough time to shut the door before you were over the toilet bowl. This wasn’t how you were planning on ending the night. Embarrassment started to settle in when you heard footsteps entering the bathroom. “Go awayyy,” you couldn’t lift your head up but you knew who stood in the doorway. The presence was by your side that very next second, “I’m not leaving.” His voice was barely above a whisper, trying to be gentle with you knowing you weren’t feeling well.

“Chris please, this is so embarrassing. I’m okay, I promise.”

“I know you are kid. I brought you some water, do you need anything else?”

“Maybe a shower.” You grumble.

Chris stood up and turned on the hot water for you, letting it heat up before you got in. Delicately, he helped you get out of the outfit you had on as you faced away from him, not wanting to expose yourself. His hand on your bare back as he helped get you into the shower.

Chris stayed right outside the shower, scrolling on his phone but making sure he was readily available if you needed anything. After the shower, you were being dressed in one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers.

Your body collided with his mattress as you pulled the covers over your body. Chris got in bed beside you, laying flat on his back and keeping a healthy distance between you two. “Can we please cuddle?” You whisper. Without any hesitation he pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around your torso.

“Thank you, Chris.”

“Don’t mention it kid. It’s no problem.”

Kid. That stupid nickname fell out of his mouth again for the second time tonight. It definitely didn’t feel very nice to hear him say it. You might regret this tomorrow but you were still feeling brave right now.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah, what’s up.” He asked, looking down at your face as it continued to rest on his chest.

“I love you.”

A chuckle escaped past his lips, “I love you too-“

“No Chris. Like, I love you… I have for so long.” You watched as he tried to process the new information, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.

“I was scared to tell you because you’re like my best friend and I didn’t want to ruin that but, it’s true. I love you so much.” You finished your little spiel.

“I feel the same way about you, but please let’s talk about this tomorrow. I want you to be able to remember this.” He was so gentle with you, he always was. You had such a special spot that he held in his heart for you. You were sad that he didn’t want to talk about this right now but you knew he was probably right, he normally was. You wanted to remember this conversation and you weren’t certain that you would remember anything when you woke up the next morning.

“Go to sleepy pretty girl, I will talk to you about this in the morning. I want to be able to kiss you when you’re in the right state of mind.” His lips pressed a soft kiss on your cheek, lulling you to sleep.

[victoria-daydreams]

The Hare and The Tower

Chapter Fourteen: Vile Rumors

AN: *scratches neck* yeah so remember when I said this chapter would be out a couple weeks after I posted that preview, well I got an upper respiratory infection literally that same week and between trying to recuperate, work, and school this was put on the back burner. Hopefully, with this chapter being long it makes up for the absence. And God help me, it's been so long since I've written anything so be easy on me lol.

Trigger Warnings: age gap, vomiting

Word Count: 5.3k

Taglist: @dogmatic255 @sidechrevans @amethystwonders11 @ladysindar @sweetwanderlust05 @newandykes @helloimlateforeverything @loveofvernonslife @stitchattacks @dariequeen @kishie8 @girlonfireice @snowymarvel1205 @greenlightower @harrypotteranna23-blog

If you want to be added to the taglist just leave a comment.

Summary: Still reeling from the fallout with Otto, Jesmyn is quickly forced to learn two harsh lessons. The transgressions of her husband are also hers to bear and brazen half-truths are worse than lies.

Chapter Fifteen: We Light the Way

A terrible dread washed through Jesmyn as she approached the carved, oak door ahead of her. The corridor was far too dark, too quiet. Her body felt heavy, and the air was akin to molasses—each step closer seeming to take a greater effort than the one before. Fear, panic, and apprehension coiled and collided within her, the onslaught of emotions created a horrible churning, stomach twisting vortex.

Coming to a standstill just outside of the door, she reached out with a trembling hand to knock on the door, but froze in mid-air.

"I've been informed I'm to travel to Driftmark with Princess Rhaenyra. We sail at dawn," Jesmyn announced quietly, her hand limply dropping back to her side.

Standing outside of Otto's bedchamber door, a shiver ran down her spine for the night seemed colder than most. Jesmyn could only stare at the warped flaws in the wood, waiting for a reply, but ultimately was met by silence. Jesmyn strained her ears for a sign of movement behind his door, for she knew he was awake, and he knew that she knew it as well. With each passing second, Jesmyn felt her heart turn into lead, sinking down further and further in her chest. She remained silent for a few more moments.

"I'm here to bid you farewell Husband, as we part on our separate journeys," she continued, placing her hand on the door. "You are angry at me, this I know," she acknowledged, releasing a shaky breath. "But I will not depart without speaking these words. I love you Otto," she said. 'Despite the harsh words we traded, my heart remains yours. Should anything—"

Forcefully, the door swung open drawing a startled gasp from her as the heat of husband’s gaze burned into her own. Otto's expression was unreadable as ever, his jaw was set tight while his mouth a thin line. They held each others stare for a few seconds, both waiting for the other to say something. Jesmyn broke first.

"I will not let our last words be ones we regret," she said firmly

Another long, uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Still, Otto only stared at her, an act which only began to draw Jesmyn's ire. She knew her husband well enough that she didn't expect an immediate reconciliation, but the hope was there in her mind. To her, this silence she was being subjected was bordering on ridiculous, did he not comprehend her words? She was set to sail on the unpredictable waters of the sea.

"I see," Jesmyn said softly, with a nod. "I shouldn't have came. I'm sorry for disturbing you," she apologized, dropping her eyes from him to the floor. "May sleep find you well, Husband," she wished, before turning away from Otto.

Wrapping her arms around herself, Jesmyn walked back down the corridor to her own chambers. The sun will be up again in a few hours or so.

"You posses both beauty and brawn,"

A velvety voice broke through the silence, lingering in the air like a caress. Jesmyn froze in place, mid-step, before slowly turning back around. Once more, her brown eyes stared at Otto’s blue and for the first time she finally noticed the tiredness around his eyes; the way his face was paler than usual. Their argument had taken its toll on him far more than he would let on.

"It's why I was so keen on securing your hand in marriage," Otto continued, deeply exhaling as he moved towards her. "Yet, your intellect fails you when it comes to Rhaenyra. Too blinded by friendship to recognize it is very the manner of how she manipulates you," Otto noted, coming to a stop in front of her. Leaning down, he pressed his lips against Jesmyn's hairline. "Knowingly or not," he uttered, before kissing the top of her head and lingering there for a bit.

Otto drew back and pushed the few loose hairs from where his lips had touched.

"Otto," Jesmyn whispered, leaning into his embrace.

But as quickly as his embrace came, he retreated from her. Entering his chambers, Otto spared one last glance at Jesmyn before he shut the door.

~~~x~~~

The Next Day

Sitting on the quarterdeck, needle and thread in hand, Jesmyn listened to the waves gently crash against the sides of the ship; the wood creaking as they swayed in the ocean. One by one, Jesmyn's needle stabbed through the white fabric. Her stitches small and perfect, forming the shape of the High Tower of Oldtown, its beacon unlit.

Unconsciously, she let out a breath, slow and heavy, while pulling the needle through again. All of the events from the day before still weighed heavily on her mind.

"Your stomach must be made out of cast iron, Lady Hightower," Criston said warmly

With a grin, Jesmyn looked away from her work to the knight standing in front of her.

"It has a mind of its own," she replied. "Some days I'm the vision of perfect health. Other days—"

Not too far off in the distance, Viserys groaned loudly before vomiting over the edge of the ship.

"Not unlike that, I suppose?" he questioned, slightly amused.

"Very much that," she agreed, laughing lightly. She felt her babe kicked her, as if to express its agreement. "Poor man," she added, shaking her head and glancing at the ailing king.

"Lady Hightower, may I ask you something?" Criston inquired, bringing her attention back to him.

"Of course," Jesmyn answered, a kind smile on her lips. "And there's no need for titles, we're not in front of the court. Jesmyn will be just fine," she corrected. "Ask your question Criston, my ears are open," she encouraged, gently laying down her sewing into her lap.

"Before you married Lord Hightower, did you ever think about... running away?" he asked, an unfamiliar tinge of anxiety in his words. "Freeing yourself from the duties and responsibilities unfairly placed upon you?" he went on.

Jesmyn chuckled softly, "What highborn girl hasn't?" she asked back, her shoulders slightly bouncing with humor. To answer your question, I have Criston, many times, ashamedly," she confessed.

"What stopped you?"

"Well, my family of course. I would miss them so very dearly," Jesmyn explained, as if it was obvious. "Gods, I couldn't begin to imagine the heartache my mother and father would suffer," Jesmyn continued, shaking her head. "Not only that, for my entire life I've known nothing but comfort and privilege. The thought of discarding that to be free, but poor is…unthinkable," she finished, her brows knitting together.

"Is that what most highborn girls believe?"

"I have no doubt they do," Jesmyn insisted confidently. "Make no mistake Criston, we highborn girls may constantly bemoan and complain about what is expected of us, but we know what's at stake if we don't," she assured. "I don't mean to offend, but I must say, you’re asking such strange question Criston. Why? Jesmyn wondered, her curiosity piqued.

Criston shifted from one foot to the other, "What if there was a highborn girl…one who was willing to runaway and forget all she's ever known?" he posed.

"Is she running away by herself?" Jesymn questioned, her brow furrowing.

"No, with her lover," he answered, hesitating between sentences. "Her lover who wants to take her away from everything she despises about her station,"

"Criston," Jesmyn called lowly. "Tell me, which highborn lady do you speak of?" she inquired, curiosity now morphing into concern.

"It's only a hypothetical, milady," Criston uttered, making Jesmyn's eyes narrow in suspicion. "But, should this lover and his lady runaway, know he would bring her unimaginable happiness," he said. "He has heard his lady's complaints, and wishes to free her from it all," he claimed, hope shining in his eyes.

"Criston, whatever you're thinking about doing, stop," Jesmyn stressed. "This will only end poorly for both of you," she warned.

"You don’t believe she would except my proposal,"

"Whoever this Lady is, It’s unlikely she would," she replied bluntly, with a scoff. "She's not going to give up her titles, her land, or riches for some lowb—” she continued, abruptly letting out a sharp gasp.

Her sewing needle had bit into the tip of her finger. Jesmyn couldn’t begin to recall when she had grasped her embroidery again. Crimson quickly rose to the surface of her skin, falling in heavy drops.

"My Lady!"

"I'm fine," Jesmyn reassured quickly, grabbing her handkerchief and pressing it to wound.

Silently, she was thankful for the prick against her finger, her next words would’ve crushed Criston’s hopeless romantic heart

~~~x~~~

The wagon ride to High Tide was one of bumpiness and strained silence. Lord Lyonel Strong, the new Lord Hand sat directly across from Jesmyn, casting glances of pity at her much to her annoyance. She didn't want his pity nor did she need it. Rhaenyra was seated next to her, refusing to spare her father a glance.

For the last stretch of the ride to the castle, the party had to leave the wagon and walk to the stone archway gate. Reaching the top of the stairs, the doors swung open to reveal High Tide in all its glory. Towers made out of gray stone and crowned with roofs of silver that reached high into the gloomy skies above.

The sound of steel clanging against each other drew Jesmyn's eyes away from the grandeur castle and to the two figures sparring a few feet away from the royal entourage. One possessed silver hair which she easily knew belonged to Laenor Velaryon, the other with red hair was unknown to her. The two men bowed in front of the party. It was also in that moment when Jesmyn realized no one was there to greet them.

"How odd," she thought.

"Where is Lord Corlys?" Lord Strong asked, annoyed and offended by the disrespect. "He should be here to receive the King," he reminded.

Lord Strong's words barely left his lips when the doors to the castle opened and a silver-haired man and woman descended the staircase The young woman could be none other than Lady Laena Velaryon.

"Welcome to High Tide, Your Grace," Laena greeted, with a bright smile on her face as she gracefully came down the steps.

"What is the meaning of this, Lady Laena?" Lord Strong demanded pointedly, taking a few steps forward. "Is this how House Velaryon greets its King?"

Lady Laena's smile remained, "My father has but just returned from his long journey and he has hastened to the Hall of Nine to await Your Grace's arrival," she explained easily, walking closer to them.

"Let's just get on with it," Viserys stated tiredly.

With that, everyone followed Lady Laena into High Tide. Jesmyn looked at the King from the corner of her eye, his brow glistening with sweat from the trek up here and his breathing heavier than anyone else's. It was worrisome to see Viserys’ health rapidly deteriorating before her eyes. The effects of his worsening illness had sucked away the luster of his healthy complexion and been replaced with a sickly white color. From what Otto told her, poorly healed wounds littered Viserys' body and the cost of that led to having two fingers on one hand removed. It's why he always wore gloves nowadays.

Once Viserys and Lord Strong walked inside the Hall of Nine, the guards immediately closed the door before Rhaenyra, Laena, or Jesmyn could enter themselves.

From her left, Jesmyn heard Rhaenyra let out an annoyed huff. Jesmyn could hear the Princess' thoughts without having to have them spoken. First, father decided who she should marry and now she's not even allowed to join the conversation.

"Come," Laena said as she intertwined her arms on Rhaenyra's and Jesmyn's. "Let us see what might be had to break our fast,"

~~~x~~~

The three girls conversed with one another while enjoying a fine breakfast. After about an hour or two, Laena gave Jesmyn and Rhaenyra a tour of High Tide. When their tour concluded, Rhaenyra decided to depart from the group so she could speak privately with her betrothed. Laena followed suit, being escorted back to her room by one of her servants for a dress fitting. This left Jesmyn to her own devices.

Leaning over on the outdoor balcony railing, Jesmyn exhaled as she gazed out at the ocean. The view was something straight from a painting. Above, the sun beamed down onto the gentle waves below her causing the water to take on a tint of gold. It was beautiful—breathtaking, really. The ocean reminded her of his eyes. They were deep, powerful, and sometimes mysterious, yet always comforting and gentle. Jesmyn smiled inwardly at the thought, wondering how Otto is fairing on his trip back to Oldtown.

Glancing down, Jesmyn could see the silhouettes of Rhaenyra and Laenor far off in the distance on the sandy shore.

"I must admit, I was surprised to learn of your presence amongst the voyage with the royal party,"

Jesmyn's breath caught itself in her throat, startled by the voice. Turning away from the railing, Jesmyn did not anticipate to see Princess Rhaenys in front of her.

She dropped into a curtsy, "Princess Rhaenys," she greeted, lowering her head. "It's an honor," she added sincerely.

"I hear a congratulations is in order," Rhaenys said, motioning for her to rise. "Laena told me you are with child once more, Lady Hightower"

"I am, Princess Rhaenys," Jesmyn answered, beaming ear to ear. "Thank you," she said, dipping her chin slightly.

"This will be your third child, correct?" Rhaenys questioned curiously.

"Yes," Jesmyn replied, her hand instinctively coming to rest on the bump. "There were some complications in my last pregnancy, but Lord Hightower and I made it through," she informed, rubbing her hand up and down her stomach.

"If you are here, I'm curious to know where is the Lord Hightower?" Rhaenys wondered. "Seeing as he has fallen out of the King’s favor," she reminded.

"My Lord Husband is returning to Oldtown," Jesmyn informed. "No doubt he’s already making the long journey back to The Reach," she guessed.

"You will not be joining him?"

"No, I will not, neither will the twins. King's Landing will remain our home," Jesmyn answered. "Princess Rhaenyra offered me the position of being her lady in waiting a day before my husband's dismal," she explained. "I accepted,"

Rhaenys only hummed, her eyes doing a once over of Jesmyn, "I can't imagine your husband was enthused about this arrangement,"

"Livid more like," Jesmyn corrected, a mirthless chuckle escaping her lips.

"And yet, this outcome, unfavorable as it is, Lord Hightower still managed to succeed in one aspect," Rhaenys said, her gaze turning into a calculated one. "Albeit, a small one," she added pointedly.

"And that is?" Jesmyn asked, not liking the shift of mood in the air.

"You, Lady Hightower," Rhaenys answered simply. "Who better to be his eyes and ears while he's away from court than his own wife, a lady in waiting to Princess Rhaenyra herself," she said, making Jesmyn's eyes bulge.

"I-I would never—" Jesmyn spluttered.

"There are things we think ourselves never capable of doing, but we wound up doing them all the same," Rhaenys cut in, taking a step closer to her. "Loyalty, seems to be a weakness for Lord Hightower. When push comes to shove, we'll discover together if you share that same weakness as your Lord Husband, Lady Hightower," she finished in a whisper, as Jesmyn visibly shrank back from the icy glare.

~~~x~~~

King's Landing

With a cold stare, Jesmyn scanned the near lifeless shell that was supposed to serve as her living quarters from now on. It was a downgrade from The Tower, but pleasant nonetheless. The space was cozily furnished, echoing the opulence and expensiveness of the quarters she resided in with her family when she was unmarried.

Unceremoniously, Jesmyn allowed herself to plop down onto the plush settee before maneuvering her body to lay flat on her back. A loud, exhausted sigh came from her as her head rested on the arm of the settee, one of her ankles dangled off the cushion. Jesmyn's entire morning had been chaotic since the moment the ship sailed from Driftmark back to King's Landing.

Standing at the quarterdeck, Jesmyn watched the foamy waves as they rocked the ship through the water. A light sea wind blew against her, moving her hair slightly into her face. It all happened so fast, one moment she was admiring the sun shining brightly in the clear blue sky. Then, Criston storming off in her direction, his mood darkening anything in the vicinity and cryptically uttering three words bitterly as he passed, "You were right,"

Lest she forget the most startling occurrence of the morning, King Viserys collapsing to the ground after taking one step outside the wheelhouse in King's Landing. A shocking scene to witness, but Jesmyn's mind couldn’t have been further elsewhere. Since last night, she remained in a sour mood after her conversation with Princess Rhaenys, which she knew Rhaenyra had noticed the change in her demeanor.

What was she supposed tell her? That her older cousin accused her of being just as deceitful as her husband was and attacked her character? Rhaenyra would only brush it off as Princess Rhaenys' personality of not being one to mince words or her usual cynicism. To keep her sanity, Jesmyn decided to remain silent and to brood, her feelings had been dismissed more than enough times in the past two days, she was ready to snap if it happened once more.

Slowly, Jesmyn's eyes began to droop low, the toll of the voyage beginning to weigh on her body.

"Lady Hightower," a handmaiden called softly.

Jesmyn's eyes fluttered open, shifting them to the young girl in front of her, "Yes?" she answered irritatedly.

"You've been summoned," the handmaiden informed.

Exhaling heavily, Jesmyn swung her feet to the floor and pushed herself up from the settee into a sitting position. An action her baby was not particularly fond of as they gave a sharp kick in her kidneys which caused her to suck in air and wince. Gently, Jesmyn rubbed circles on her stomach to calm her baby down before gingerly standing up.

"Am I to meet Princess Rhaenyra in her quarters?" Jesmyn asked, her hand resting on her bump.

"It wasn’t the Princess who summoned you, milady," the handmaiden corrected, making Jesmyn's eyebrow arch. "The Queen wishes to see you,"

The journey to Alicent's chambers was longer than it should have, inexplicably she began to feel nauseous with every step she took forcing her to make several stops along the way. Standing outside the Queen's private chamber door, Jesmyn squeezed her eyes closed and pushed out a deep breath.

A handmaiden opened the door, allowing her to enter the room, but Jesmyn's steps faltered when she realized Alicent was not alone. Criston was inside as well. The door shut behind her and Jesmyn curtsied to Alicent.

"My Queen—" she began, but stopped when she felt her stomach attempting to leap out of her throat. Jesmyn clamped her hand over her mouth, trying to quell the nausea.

"Oh you poor thing!" Alicent comforted, standing up from her seat and rushing towards her. "Has the voyage left you ill?" she asked, her eyes sympathetic as she helped Jesmyn to her full height from her bow before leading her to the sofa she occupied only moments before.

"It's nothing," Jesmyn reassured, watching Alicent sit back down. "I just need to lay down and this sickness will pass,” she explained.

"Then I will try to make this quick," Alicent stated, which made Jesmyn cock her head slightly. "Sit, why don't you," she suggested nervously, patting the empty cushion beside her.

"I am not fragile Alicent, honest," Jesmyn said, chuckling at her friend’s fretting.

"As you wish," Alicent said, with a nod and an uneasy smile. "I…I—how should I say this?" she questioned, but it was directed towards herself.

Jesmyn frowned at the swift change of mood from Alicent and glanced over to Criston. Briefly, he met her stare before guiltily lowering his eyes to the floor.

"Has some—"

"Rhaenyra lied to you!"

The sharpness of Alicent's interjection struck Jesmyn with icy coldness as she slowly digested her words. Jesmyn's heart faltered a beat, an invisible dagger plunging into it. A pressure on her chest.

"No…no…" she choked out in denial, slowly shaking her head back and forth.

Jesmyn's stomach suddenly twisted itself violently into a tighter knot than it had earlier. For a moment, she could feel nothing, and yet everything all at once. She couldn't speak, her body going numb, feeling light and heavy at the same time. Jesmyn was scarcely capable of forming a coherent thought. Rage, horror, sadness, and betrayal coursed through her, fighting each other for dominance.

"S-She swore on her mother's grave!" she whispered to herself. "She swore on her mother's grave!" she repeated, in near frenzy.

To remain standing any longer was a growing challenge for Jesmyn by the second, when finally her trembling legs gave out beneath her. She sank down onto the sofa, a fog clouding her mind while dizziness spun through her skull. Jesmyn's heart pounded in her ears, filling her head with noise. She couldn't hear anything outside the deafening sounds of her own breath. Otto's words from last night gradually became deafening in her head.

"Too blinded by friendship to recognize it is very the manner of how she manipulates you,"

Faintly, Jesmyn thought she heard her name, but couldn’t make out the owner of the voice saying it.

"Jesmyn?" the voice asked, somewhere in the distance

Suddenly, a pair of hands, that were soft yet firm, grasped her own. They forced Jesmyn from her daze, causing her eyes to snap up to meet Alicent's.

"Rhaenyra wouldn't do that to me," Jesmyn said, her voice hoarse and sounding nothing like her own. "I—I value our friendship so dearly, I went against my own beloved husband," she continued airily, still feeling far, far away from her body.

"It's true, Jesmyn," Alicent reaffirmed, squeezing her hands. "She lied to you, to us," she shifted her stare to Criston. "Tell her Ser Criston," she demanded.

"Lady Hightower, it was I who laid with Princess Rhaenyra that night," Criston confessed, looking down in shame.

Jesmyn swallowed Criston's confession bitterly, "She told the truth, on a technicality," she said, inhaling a deep breath and shuddering slightly. "Daemon didn't fuck her in that pleasure house, but it was you who took her maidenhood?"

"Yes, My Lady,"

A gasping, broken sob reverberated in the air, "W-What have I done? My marriage is in…ruins ….and for what? Jesmyn wondered, her voice wavering as her words came out in short breaths. "I–I need to write Otto, I—" she went on, until her stomach lurched suddenly and Jesmyn gasped. "I think I'm going to be sick,"

Swiftly, a chamberpot was held out in front of her which Jesmyn snatched into her grasp before hurling into it, spewing out her meal from earlier in the morning. She remained in the same position for a while, still retching.

"Thank the gods, a servant just cleaned that and left it here," Alicent commented, rubbing Jesmyn’s back.

Raising her face from the chamberpot, Jesmyn's stomach twisted uncomfortably at the sight of the contents within the pot. Gingerly, she placed the pot down onto the table, fearing that she'd throw up again if she stared at it too long.

"Alicent, I'm so sorry you had to bear witness to that," Jesmyn quavered, reclining against the sofa and clutching her stomach. "You as well, Sir Criston," she added, looking over to him.

"You have nothing to apologize for," Alicent stated.

"I must go," Jesmyn announced shakily, dabbing the corners of her mouth with the inside of her wrist. "Arrangements need to be made," she informed, standing up.

The abrupt movement caused stars to dance in front of her eyes. Jesmyn’s hand shot out to grip the back of the sofa chair to steady herself, feeling her heart rate speed up.

"Jesmyn?"

She waved her hand dismissively, "I'm fine," Jesmyn assured, with a tight smile despite exhaustion creeping over her.

"Are you sure, Lady Hightower?" Criston questioned.

"I said I’m fine Sir Criston!" Jesmyn repeated sharply, releasing her grip from the couch and righting herself.

Taking a few steps forward, Jesmyn felt herself sway on her feet while her sight became strangely blurred. She blinked in rapid succession, blood pounding wildly in her ears and drowning out all sounds around her. Unsteadily, she moved forward again, however this time Jesmyn could no longer feel the floor beneath her feet. The room began to spin right before Jesmyn's eyes, rendering her sense of direction completely null. Darkness crept around the edges of her blurred vision, forcing her to close her eyes and orient herself. It was a misguided action to take.

Once her eyes shut, her knees buckled beneath her sending her collapsing to the floor.

~~~x~~~

Jesmyn awoke with a start, her eyes snapping open as a startled gasp escaped her. Wildly, her eyes darted around in confusion and panic as she took in her surroundings. A few seconds passed before Jesmyn realized she was in her bed within her new quarters, safe. Squeezing her eyes shut, Jesmyn exhaled heavily and rubbed her hand over her eyes. When she reopened her eyes, Alicent stood just inches away from the foot of her bed.

"Gods!" Jesmyn exclaimed, her body jolting with fright.

"Apologies, I didn't intend to scare you," Alicent said gently. "I heard rustling from within here, and came to check on you," she explained.

Carefully, Jesmyn pushed herself up from the bed and leaned back against the headboard.

"What happened?" Jesmyn asked, blinking and rubbing her eyes once more.

"You fainted," Alicent answered, looking over her in concern. "It all happened so quickly, you were unsteady on your feet, then you just crumbled to the floor. I don’t know what was worse, seeing you collapse or hearing it. Scared Ser Criston and I to death,"

Jesmyn's hand shot down to her stomach, "My baby—""

"Is just fine," Alicent cut in reassuringly. "Maester Mellos assured me as much," she answered, causing Jesmyn to let a sigh of relief. "How are you feeling now?" Alicent questioned.

"A bit dizzy, still," Jesmyn replied, turning her head to look out the window to see the sun was beginning to set. "I could only imagine what your father would say if he witnessed my fainting spell," she remarked, a small grin creeping on her lips.

"Probably forbid you from ever leaving the bed and have you waited on hand and foot" she joked, and the girls shared a laugh with each other.

Jesmyn faced Alicent again, "By the Seven, Otto's fussing over could be unbearable, but now that he’s no longer at court with me, I'll miss it more than I thought possible," she admitted, her mood turning solemn and dropping her stare down at her hands.

"And it's my fault," she thought.

A frown creased her forehead, "Has she heard about the incident, the princess?" Jesmyn spat out, disdain dripping from each word.

"She has, but I had a handmaiden to relay the message that you are not to be disturbed, maester’s orders," Alicent answered, with a half smirk.

"Good," Jesmyn said, nodding to herself. "I don't know how I will bring myself to assist Rhaenyra with all the festivities for her wedding this week, let alone, the opening feast tomorrow," she commented, her eyes narrowing.

"So don't," Alicent responded simply, making Jesmyn raise her head in shock.

"What do you mean, don't?" Jesmyn repeated, brows furrowing.

Alicent moved to stand by her bedside, "We'll discuss it further tomorrow, when you're better," she said, bending down to give a quick peck on Jesmyn's cheek.

~~~x~~~

Lords and Ladies from every corner of the Seven Kingdoms flocked to King's Landing to celebrate the wedding of the two most powerful Houses in Westeros, the Targaryens and the Velaryons. The joyous festivities commenced with a grand feast, promising a night full of dancing, drinking, and merriment. However, these feelings were not shared by all.

In silence, two young women walked the halls of the Red Keep side by side. For Jesmyn, everything was numb and nothing felt real. She walked daze like through the halls, following the noises from the throne room. Almost a decade long of friendship and good will, gone within a blink of an eye. All from one, little half lie. A lie which Rhaenyra allowed to leave her lips effortlessly.

"The ceremony is beginning," Alicent noted, rousing Jesmyn from her stupor.

Standing in front of throne room, Jesmyn could hear Viserys' echoing voice behind the massive doors.

She looked to Alicent, "We've discussed this for hours on end, but now that the moment's here I find myself rather nervous," Jesmyn admitted.

"Don't be," Alicent insisted, turning to face Jesmyn. "Princess Rhaenyra has made it crystal clear where her loyalties lie," she reminded, her eyes hardening. "It's time we do the same," she declared quietly.

Jesmyn glanced down to both of their gowns they donned for the evening, green like the beacon of Hightower.

"We will certainly turn heads that's for sure," Jesmyn stated, a slight chuckle escaping her.

"Head high," Alicent ordered gently, using her finger to lightly lift up Jesmyn's chin. "What are we?" Alicent questioned, allowing a small grin to form on her lips.

"We're Hightower women," Jesmyn answered confidently, with a smirk.

"And what do we do?"

"We light the way,"

Holding each other's stare, Alicent and Jesmyn nodded their heads in unison.

"Shall we?" Jesmyn asked, holding her arm out.

"With pleasure," Alicent responded confidently, linking her arm with Jesmyn's. "Open the doors!" she demanded, staring ahead at the guards.

With a low creak, Jesmyn could see a sliver of the throne room and at the center of it stood Viserys, still giving his speech.

"Reaching back to the old days of Old Valyria and the Age of Dragons. With House Targaryen and H-" Viserys cut himself off mid sentence, as the sound of the doors opening drew his attention ahead.

Every courtier followed his gaze to the doors where Alicent and Jesmyn stood arm in arm. Instantly, murmurs filled the room as everyone rose to their feet, Hightower being one of the first houses to do so. The two of them were the essence of grace as they made their way deeper into the hall. Jesmyn dared glance in Rhaenyra's direction to see her subtly horrified expression, Jesmyn told a lie of her own this day; that she was too unwell to assist and attend the feast tonight. When truthfully, she wished to be as far away as possible from the princess. Jesmyn kept her face neutral. Her eyes were detached, scornful, but she was more composed than she had been for the past 48 hours, albeit without her typical jovialness.

Jesmyn passed her family's table, catching the stares of her family members. Curiosity was in all their eyes, they were well aware how close Jesmyn had been with Rhaenyra. So, for her to be making such a bold move with Alicent, who was draped in Hightower green they knew something must of went down. Jesmyn met her parent's stare, silently telling them, we'll speak later.

Approaching the Hightower table, Jesmyn smoothly removed her arm from Alicent's and seemingly glided over to where Hobert stood. A proud smirk on his lips, Hobert bows his heads to Alicent along with several members of the table. To Jesmyn's surprise, her good brother extended this gesture towards her as well which she happily returned.

"Hobert," Jesmyn greeted quietly.

"Good sister," he responded, extending his hand out to help her sit.

Once Alicent was seated at the table, Viserys began to resume his speech which Jesmyn and Alicent had interrupted with their dramatic entrance, but it was apparent he could not remember where he had left off. It wasn’t until Lord Lyonel Strong slightly leaned over to Viserys that he remembered his train of thought.

"With House Targaryen and House Velaryon united," Viserys continued, "I hope to herald a second Age of Dragons in Westeros," he proclaimed, which received applause along with some banging on the tables. "And after tonight's small affair," he joked, causing laughter to echo in the room. "Seven days of tournament and feasting – and at the end of it all – a royal wedding between my daughter and Ser Laenor Velaryon, the heir to Driftmark,"

Applause thundered across the hall once more and shortly thereafter, Rhaenyra and Laenor's first dance followed. All eyes were glued the couple as the beating of drums echoed in the hall, taking Rhaenyra's outstretched hand Laenor began their dance with one another.

"Good brother," Jesmyn called lowly, and Hobert shifted his attention to her. "Might you have room for a wheelhouse of three on the trip back home?" she asked curiously.

"Don't you mean four, good sister?" he corrected softly, with a small grin which Jesmyn shared.

When the dance was finished, lords and ladies flocked to the dance floor to join in with the dancing as well. Meanwhile, Jesmyn was on her feet to mainly stretch her legs, but it quickly turned into Hobert proudly showing her off to the rest of the Hightower's at their table.

"There's another son of Oldtown growing within her, I'm confident!" Hobert exclaimed, beaming happily at the thought.

In the most bizarre turn of events, Hobert's and Jesmyn's relationship had actually blossomed due to the birth of the twins. The way the older man incessantly pestered her about having children, people would think she was married to him and not his younger brother. Looking back now, Jesmyn realized all he truly wanted was nieces and nephews to spoil, but gods above, he could've been so less cruel about it.

She laughed, "My stomach is hanging low," Jesmyn remarked, holding the bump.

"No, it’s going to be a girl this time around!" a female cousin disagreed, eyes gleaming at the thought. "Twin girls!" she added excitedly.

"Otto would faint," Jesmyn replied, another laughing bubbling out of her.

"Yes, and he wouldn't be the only one," Hobert stated humorously.

A chorus of laughter rang out from the Hightower table and from the corner of her eye, Jesmyn saw Alicent approaching them. For the first time that night, Jesmyn saw a genuine smile on Alicent's face as she walked towards her uncle. Bowing before her, Hobert lightly grasped her arms and bore a proud grin once more.

"Thank you for coming, uncle," Alicent said, happily greeting him.

"I worried that given leave of your father's shadow, you might wither in King's Landing's sun. But, I see that you stand tall. Know that Oldtown stands with you," Hobert declared, and Alicent with nodded a tiny smirk at his words. "I see you even managed to talk some sense into Jesmyn about returning home," he mentioned, making the vein Jesmyn's forehead throb.

"Oh, I didn��t—"

"Hobert, I was just beginning to grow fond of you, until now," Jesmyn bantered, but also was half serious.

"My daughter jests, she was taught to never hold grudges," Lord Clarick stated, from behind her.

"Wait until I tell you about the antics Rhaenyra's been up to recently, that will surely make you rethink that lesson," Jesmyn thought.

She spun around, "Father!" Jesmyn greeted happily, walking towards him with her arms outstretched.

Grinning, Lord Clarick brings her into a careful hug feeling her growing belly against him.

"It's good to see you on your feet, Jesmyn. The Queen told me that you collapsed yesterday," Lord Clarick said, with a small frown as he took a hold of her hands.

"I'm fine Father, a combination of tiredness and a little nausea from traveling to Driftmark and back," Jesmyn lied, squeezing his hands to reassure him.

"Speaking of The Queen," he began, his voice dropping so only she could hear him. "What was—"

Suddenly, screams pierced the air in the hall, causing Jesmyn to flinch before whipping her head to the dance floor.

She stepped away from Lord Clarick, "What’s going on?" Jesmyn asked, panic in her question.

Then, the crowd started scattering like rats from the area where scream originated and the throne room was plunged into absolute chaos. Bumping and shoving quickly ensued as the mass attempt by courtiers to run toward the exit led to people being trampled on. Jesmyn was just barely able to react in time to protect herself and her baby. With the crowd jostling around her, she was pushed further and further away from her father and Hobert. Frantically looking around through the sea of bodies, she managed to catch the eyes of Hobert who was next to a younger Hightower cousin.

"Hobert!" Jesmyn screamed, terror in her eyes as she protectively pressed her arm against her stomach.

Hobert looked at the young man and pointed to her, immediately he fought his way over to her. Strong arming his way through, he scooped her up as if she was light as a feather and began carrying her to safety. Jesmyn searched the crowd from her new vantage point, still trying to determine what caused all this, but even from the shoulders of her cousin, she couldn't see.

However, despite the madness that enveloped the throne room, a single thought arose in Jesmyn's mind, pushing out all others.

"This disastrous wedding is nothing less than what Rhaenyra deserves,"

~~~x~~~

A few days later

Servants hurried about to and from, carrying trunks of various sizes to the many wheelhouses that lined the courtyard of the Red Keep. At the center of this tempest activity stood Jesmyn, being seen off by two members of the royal family.

"I do wish you would stay, but I think being among family and friends in Oldtown will do well for you and the babe," Alicent said, a smile gracing her features. "And the little ones too," she added, giving Vanesha's button nose a playful squeeze.

Squealing in laughter, Vanesha squirmed around in her older sister's arms.

"I couldn’t agree more, my Queen," Jesmyn responded, mirroring Alicent's expression. "It's been too long since I been in Oldtown. Despite our quarrel, I know having the twins home will bring your father the much needed joy after everything that has transpired," she commented, as Alicent handed Vanesha off to the waiting handmaiden to take her.

"You'll write me the moment you're safely inside Hightower, yes?" Alicent questioned earnestly.

"Was there ever a doubt?" Jesmyn asked back humorously. Her eyes slid to Criston, who stood protectively next to Alicent's side. "Ser Criston, I trust you will look after our Queen with my departure? True friends are so difficult to find in these times," she mentioned.

Criston bowed his head, "You have my word, Lady Hightower," he promised, a ghost of smirk on his face.

With a smile, Jesmyn moved away from Alicent and Criston and towards Rhaenyra who stood with her new sworn shield, Harwin Strong. Sauntering purposefully over to the princess, the pebbles in courtyard crunched underneath Jesmyn's shoes. Even with the flurry of activity around them, the strident noise pierced the air in the otherwise noisy courtyard.

Standing in front Rhaenyra, Jesmyn had gone from cheerful to stoic in a split second.

"Princess Rhaenyra," Jesmyn greeted curtly, curtsying to her.

"It pains me to see you go. I was so looking forward to our spent together as my lady in waiting Jesmyn," Rhaenyra said diplomatically, and Jesmyn involuntarily quirked an eyebrow at the use of her name.

"Yes, well, after having some time to reconsider my decision following that nasty business that occurred at your wedding feast, I've come to realize something," Jesmyn stated, peering down at Rhaenyra with an expressionless stare. "Without my Lord Husband, I find King's Landing an ill-suited environment to raise my children, so many unsavory characters here at court. It would be ashamed if they were tainted by proximity," she asserted, her eyes boring into Rhaenyra's who subtly shrank underneath their gaze.

Jesmyn let Rhaenyra suffer under her withering stare a few seconds longer before clearing her throat and removing her arms from underneath her cloak. In her hands, Jesmyn held an object slightly larger than both of her palms put together.

"I do have a gift for you though, Princess Rhaenyra," Jesmyn informed, keeping the object face down. "Something for you to remember me by in my absence here," she finished, finally the presenting the gift to Rhaenyra.

With its face up, Jesmyn held the finished embroidery of the High Tower of Oldtown, its beacon lit.

[scarabsinthestardust]

Tender // Ch. 1

Josh x male OC

I tried to write this in a way that you don't necessarily have to read Better in the Morning if you don't want to, and I suppose you don't, but there are quite a few mentions of things that occurred or that were discussed in BitM. It may make more sense if you start there, but I don't think it's a requirement.

With that being said, this one is not going to be for everyone. Parts of this are going to get VERY dark. Each individual chapter will have its warnings, but I am going to go ahead and disclose that this will include a significant amount of child abuse, and in later chapters, domestic violence, which can be very triggering for some to read. There may also be mentions of religious trauma, something that is particularly difficult for me.

On that note, if you choose to read, I hope you enjoy and thank you for being here. And please forgive me for what's going to transpire.

/////

MASTERLIST

This fic is heavily inspired by music from the Ballroom Thieves. Take a listen on Spotify: Fistfight

word count: 2100+

CHAPTER WARNINGS: language; anxiety; depression; unspecific undiagnosed mental illness; mentions of alcoholism and vehicle accidents; mentions of hospitals; a very tiny mention of sex if you squint

I’ve always hated the rain. I hate soggy clothes and wet socks. I hate the sounds of it beating against the windows like an angry beast trying to gain entry. I hate the booming thunder. I hate the flashes of lightning, especially the burning smells when it strikes something. It keeps me awake, in a constant state of anxiety, preventing any semblance of peace in my rattled mind.

But Josh can sleep right through it.

He’s been my anchor during the storms, keeping me on solid ground. His soft snores, and sometimes not-so-soft ones, give me something other than the rolling thunder to focus on. I listen to his steady breaths and the occasional words he mutters in his sleep.

I never meant to fall in love with him, but like a spell that I cannot break, he pulled me into him. I’m hypnotized. This feeling is foreign to me, the feeling of caring for someone like I do for him. And I don’t think I will ever want to let him go. But eventually, he will inevitably find out who I really am, that I’m not a good person, and he’ll leave. He will find someone better, someone he deserves, and hopefully someone who deserves him. Until then, I will hold onto him as tightly as I can, and just hope I don’t ruin him.

It was months ago when I disclosed to him that I’m an alcoholic, fully expecting him to be revolted and to decide he wasn’t interested anymore, but that’s not what happened. There was pity in his eyes, an inescapable casualty I imagine, but not once did he ever treat me like I was less than a man because of it. When I told him about the accident, I never felt any judgement from him, nor any pressure of guilt, although I didn’t particularly need any help in that department. He told me was proud of me for working so hard at staying sober, but I’m not sure if I really earned that.

I had kept everything to myself for so long. I never even told Kya, my best and only childhood friend. I don’t know why I didn’t; I knew she would never judge me for those decisions I made. And she proved me right when word eventually reached her ears. Josh was so angry at her for bringing the liquor that night. I tried to explain that she didn’t know, but he had convinced himself that she was trying to sabotage me. I was annoyed that he wouldn’t listen to me, but he became so fiercely protective of me that I soon forgot my irritation. No one had ever shown that kind of passion in my defense.

Then Josh’s little brother Sam got into a car accident. It took weeks for him to come back from what seemed like the brink of death. I was with Josh when got the phone call. I clearly remember how he paled when he heard the news, and the heavy sense of impending dread that seemed to hang overhead. He was upset, rightly so, and practically shaking with worry, and fear. I did not want him driving alone, so I tagged along to the hospital.

Why are they always so cold? You would think a warm, cozy atmosphere would be more beneficial to the healing process. Instead, you’re plagued by the fluorescent lights, incessant beeping, and constant poking and prodding. They smell of formaldehyde, reminiscent of sickness and death. It made my skin itch, like hundreds of invisible bugs trying to burrow into me. I hated being there at the hospital, and more often than not I had the urge to leave, but then Josh would lay his head on my shoulder, tears staining his cheeks, and I knew I couldn’t leave him.

Sam was released from the hospital and is okay now, and Josh is finally home getting some much-needed sleep. I assumed he might want to be alone, but he surprised me yet again when he asked me to come over. He asked me to hold him when the events of the last few weeks caught up with him and the dam broke. I couldn’t understand why he was still crying; his brother was home and recovering. The worst was over. Perhaps I couldn’t wrap my head around it because I don’t know what it’s like to love someone on that deep of a level and come so close to losing them. So, I did as he asked, keeping him held to my chest, my arms wrapped tightly around him, until his body gave out from exhaustion, and he slipped into sleep.

It's almost dawn now. I’ve been awake since the rain started. How long has it been… an hour? Two? I tend to lose track of the time quite often. Josh is no longer latched onto me. Instead, he is on his back, arms sprawled out above him and one leg sticking out from under the blanket. I’ve gotten into the habit of watching him while he sleeps, still in a state of utter disbelief that someone like him was ever even remotely interested in me. But he doesn’t know me, not really.

The storm is worsening. The rain is hitting the window so hard I think it might break. I try to focus on the man sleeping next to me as my heart rate quickens. The room is still dark, so all I can see is his silhouette, but I’ve taken the time to memorize him, the shape of his nose, the small scar on his left cheek, the way his eyelashes sit against his skin when he closes his eyes. He’s always so soft and he smells like vanilla. Even after we’ve spent the night tangled up in each other, me buried deep inside of him, both of us covered in the scent of sweat and sex, I can still smell a hint of vanilla. There have been times when I’ve convinced myself this is all a vivid dream, because there’s no way that he’s real.

A particularly loud shock of thunder rings out, and I involuntarily squeeze my eyes shut. Breathe in. Breathe out. I feel myself starting to slip, but I can’t let myself, not here, not where he can see. I’m fighting to pull back and I don’t hear the rustling of the bedding next to me. My eyes shoot open when something softly brushes my cheek.

“Finn? You okay?” Josh’s eyes are on me, still drowsy with sleep, his features painted with concern. It’s daylight. When did that happen? And although the sky is still darkened by storm clouds, I can see his face now. “You were making noises. I think you were having a nightmare.”

Was I? “I’m good. Sorry if I woke you.”

“Not you. The thunder, I think.” He rubs his eyes and scoots closer to me, draping a warm arm across my chest.

The storm raging outside chooses this moment to remind us that it’s still there. Another impossibly loud boom reaches my ears, and despite my pathetic attempt to control myself, I jump at the sound. I expect him to laugh, to poke fun at me for being spooked by something so stupid. He doesn’t. “These Tennessee storms are wild, sometimes.” He nuzzles into the crook of my neck, and I breathe him in. “You ever been in Michigan during a snowstorm?”

“I don’t think I’d want to.”

He chuckled. “I definitely prefer the rain.”

I keep my thoughts on the topic to myself. I envy him for how easily he finds the silver lining in every bad situation. He sees beauty in all things, even where all I can see is destruction, and where all I can feel is hatred, anger, and fear.

It’s not as if I haven’t tried to work on it. I’ve seen therapists, taken medications, prescribed by psychiatrists, and attempted the holistic route with yoga and meditation. When those all failed, I resorted to self-medication. I was never one for how hard drugs made me feel, so I stuck with alcohol. I would have drowned myself in it, with no concern for how it affected those around me. And then everything changed when I saw myself in that little boy that I almost took everything from. I didn’t sleep for days after the accident, and I had nightmares about it for weeks. I saw that little boy in every one of them. I should have died that night; I was sure of it. I was convinced that fate made a mistake. I wanted to fix the mistake, to remove myself from the world that I didn’t deserve to be in, but I was too much of a coward to follow through. And most days, it feels like I’m being punished for it.

I’ve trained myself to be very good at hiding whatever battle I’m waging in my head. If masking was an Olympic sport, I’d be a gold medalist. But every once in a while, I lose my grip on reality and fall back into myself, into the memories of all the things I can’t escape from and that made me what I am today. Josh makes it hard sometimes. He’s just so fucking curious about everything. I know he means well; it’s perfectly normal to want to learn all you can about your partner. But when he pesters me for information I don’t want to share, it makes my blood boil. I bite my tongue, though. And when I meet his big, ‘baby cow eyes,’ I know I can’t stay mad at him. Something about him, something almost magical, draws me back into him and quenches the flames that threaten to burn me alive.

One afternoon during a particularly lazy day, he had planted himself on top of me as I laid stretched out across the couch. He was bored and fidgety, aching to get up and do something. So, he resorted to seeing how much he could annoy me. When I got sick of him poking at my sides and biting me like an angry piranha (he really is so childish sometimes), I abruptly sat up, pushing him backwards and pinning him underneath me on the opposite end of the sofa. It scared me how easy it was to overpower him, but he just laughed. It was all part of the game, and I was still in the running. “Are you finished?” I made sure to hide any sign of real irritation and grinned playfully. I couldn’t stand the look of hurt that would show in his eyes if he thought I was unhappy with him.

His brain jumps between topics and ideas quicker than I can keep up. It always makes me falter when he changes the subject so suddenly. “Why don’t you have an accent?”

“Uh, what kind of accent am I supposed to have?”

“Well, Kya has that southern accent. It gets stronger when she gets mad,” he giggled. Pissing off his twin’s girlfriend seemed to be a favorite hobby of his. “You’re both from the same place, so why don’t you have one, too?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I left West Virginia when I was pretty young. I guess it just didn’t stick.” The truth was that it was intentional. I hated to hear the remnants of that place in my own voice, so I forced myself to break the habits that gave way to the southern drawl. It’s more difficult to keep it on lockdown when I’m intoxicated, though.

I could tell he wanted to say more on the subject but thought better of it, and I was subjected to another sudden change of topic.

I don’t think I’ve ever met someone that talks as much as he does. He’d ramble on about absolutely nothing for days if I let him. He’s loud and has an obnoxious habit of talking over people. He can be immature and stubborn, impossible to deal with once he’s made his mind up about something. And it drives me to want to rip my hair out how nosy he is, always wanting to be in everyone’s business. But on top of all that, he’s intelligent, he’s funny, and oh so sweet. He’s a brilliant ray of light in an otherwise dreary world, and my heart wants to sing for him.

He throws his leg over the top of one of mine, drawing us ever closer. It’s a little too warm under the covers, but I’ll manage. I run my hand through his curls, plush and messy, before placing a kiss on his head. I hear his breath even out and I know he’s fallen back asleep. I start to doze off after him, and I notice the storm seems to have let up, too.

TAGLIST @hollyco @fleetingjake @musicislove3389

[sleepyspudbrainrot]

Carry You Home (Pt. 3)

Roman Reigns x Lale (OC) | 18+, NSFW, eventual smut, fluff | 2281 words

Pt. 3 of that fluff piece... hopefully y'all enjoy this part as much as the other two.

This is based off of the August 11, 2023 Episode of Smackdown (I absolutely had to go back and watch it recently in order to get my brain back together.)

And let me not forget to tag ... @southerngirl41 & @tshepisho❤️️

“Deuces Uces!”

Lale’s hands clasped over her mouth, her shock not nearly as audible as the rest of the stadium that surrounded her.  A sea of signs that had once blocked out the led screens that encircled the stadium, were now crumpled at the feet of the frantic crowd.  Some frantic to reach their hands out to the departing Uso, other’s looking between themselves and the dazed form of Roman Reigns in the ring below.  Lale couldn’t figure out where to look.  At Jey Uso, a friend to her and cousin to Roman, or to the fallen man in the ring.  

The vibrating of her phone was nearly not enough to bring her out of her daze.  Even now, she still held one hand clasped over parted lips, her other hand thumbing open the screen.  A text scrolled across her screen from Kayla Braxton, the main backstage correspondent for Smackdown and one of her closest friends.  An invitation backstage, to get a feel for the chaos seemed to be spreading through the Scotiabank Saddledome.  It was almost as if someone else had control of her limbs.  She’d grabbed Cathy Kelley’s hand at some point, mumbling something about backstage.  Thankfully she didn’t seem to question it.

By the time they made it backstage, Kayla was nowhere to be found.  In her place stood the three people she’d least expected to find lingering in Gorilla.  Joe, Paul, and last but not least Sefa.  “I can’t believe those two.  This is what they’ve been hiding from us all week?”  The trio were deep in conversation, clearly just as thrown by the events that had unfolded in the stadium as the rest of the crowd was.  Lale hung back, fingers brushing the black curtains that marked the hallway that led out to the main stadium.  

“You’re not going to go say hi?”

Lale blinked over at Cathy, who stood beside her with a knowing grin.  “Kayla didn’t summon me back here to meet up with her did she…”  Cathy shrugged, not giving any indication one way or the other, which was an answer in and of itself.  “He looks busy… I don’t want to get in the middle of all - -” She gestured vaguely at the trio, who were now turned to look at her.  Joe’s face had quickly shifted from the storm of frustration, to something that could’ve been easily misconstrued as… amusement? Nope there was no misconstruing that. He was amused.

“Never knew you to be the type to crash backstage ma.”  

Lale rolled her eyes.  “I normally don’t unless invited and since you clearly weren’t about to, Kayla did.” She sighed softly, running a hand through her tousled hair.  “Thanks for the tickets by the way, you really didn’t need to send those.  I was half expecting another car to sweep me away for another private dinner.”  Cathy’s eyes widened beside her.  “Or was that supposed to be our secret?”

“Looks like you got your bite back… I’m surprised after tonight.  Thought your jaw would never come up off the floor after what Jey pulled…”

Lale blinked up at Joe, seeing a flash of the earlier frustration cloud his features.  “So I take it creative didn’t exactly - -” Sefa was quick to cut her off.  “They fuckin’ didn’t tell us anything.  All these last minute changes, it’d be nice to know about some of them so we’re not having to improv as much.”  Paul didn’t say much, but Joe’s features shifted.  “It makes for a better story, you and I both know that.  It wouldn’t make sense for the betrayal to have come from such… superficial reasons.  No one ever does anything just for the tribal chief.”

There it was, that flash of Roman Reigns who’d been out there on that stage.  The persona that filled rooms and turned the normally eloquent and put together Paul Heyman into a quivering mess.  “I’ll have to have a talk with creative.  I understand not telling you guys, so that the reactions are genuine but not telling me?” Paul clicked his tongue.  “Anyway, since it seems you guys have plans and I do not want to be the one to keep you from them.  So I’ll see you guys tomorrow? Hopefully I’ll have better news.”

Paul’s departure left a gap in the conversation, one that Sefa struggled to fill.  Thankfully Cathy seemed to pick up on that and offered to walk with him back towards the lockers in the hopes that she could track down Kayla.  Which then left Lale all alone with Joe.  While she’d been big talk when Cathy was beside her, something about not having back up had left her feeling vulnerable.  She’d been joking about the private dinners.  Joe and she hadn’t been truly alone in months.  They’d been texting consistently, the older man sending her food on days he knew were rough, but outside of that, their interactions had been limited to just that.

“So what was that about a private dinner?”

Lale settled into the plush leather of the Escalade beside Joe, a comfortable silence filling the luxurious blacked out vehicle that he’d summoned to take them away from the Scotiabank Saddledome and towards their destination for the night.  Somehow, even with last minute notice Joe had managed to get them a table at an upscale italian place downtown.  She’d had to resist the urge to check the menu, and honestly see what the actual hours were because she had a feeling that he’d called in a favor or two.

“Am I over or under dressed?”

Joe had been lost to his thoughts, blinking slowly at the woman beside him inquisitively.  “What?”

“Am I over or under dressed for where we’re going?”  Lale would’ve normally been annoyed at having to repeat herself, however given what had just went down at the stadium.  Regardless of the reality. She could almost sense the moments playing out in his head and knew he deserved a little bit of grace.

“You look perfect.  It’s after hours, so I can guarantee that they’re not going to give a fuck about a dress code.”

It was something that she herself should’ve realized.  The man beside her was clad in a pair of gym shorts and a tshirt that clung to his well defined muscles.  Compared to her crop top and jean shorts, they were about evenly match in terms of potentially violating a dress code.  Silence fell between them once more.  The smooth ride of the Escalade allowing to watch the world outside of them with very little interruption.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Lale was surprised to see a few cars sprinkled throughout the parking lot.  Joe seemed to sense her confusion, resting a casual hand on her back as they made their way inside.  “Couple of friends were already planning on joining us ma, nothing to worry about.  We’ll still have our privacy.”  A sly wink as he held the door open for her, her eyes wandering across the elegantly decorated space.  Tables with plenty of room between them, alcoves that seemed to hold a table for two, then others with tables that seemed to be able to accommodate a whole party. The floors beneath her feet were a deep mahogany, the walls adorned with very little to allow emphasis on the wall to wall floor to ceiling windows.  The same windows that allowed for a gorgeous view of the city as well as the stars that flickered in the night sky.

“Too much?”

Lale could only hope that her mouth hadn’t been hanging open for too long.  “It’s stunning Joe… and I absolutely feel under dressed.”  Too much skin exposed, not enough elegance, and yet somehow they weren’t looked at any differently than the few patrons who remained in suits and dresses.  

“Order anything you’d like, my treat.”

He’d been treating her so often lately and yet she still felt like she was taking advantage of his kindness.  Perhaps it was payment for all the times he’d teased her and given her a hard time.  Even tho… did he really owe her for any of that?  She sighed softly, settling into the chair across from Joe, smoothing the napkin on her lap.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about mama? I know that look.  You tend to get that look any time an interview doesn’t go your way.”

There it was, the jabs she’d been expecting.  Somehow that actually brought a sense of comfort, to a night that had absolutely thrown her for a loop.  “Trying to figure out what all this means?” It was out of her mouth before she could stop herself.  “Between Kayla texting me and meeting up with you instead.  This private dinner, when they’d really been limited to texting ever since that night a couple of months ago…

“You’re wondering why tonight.  Why after all the drama, why I’m not out with the boys, or giving the twins an earful.  And I’m instead out here with you, wining and dining you in a way that doesn’t quite line up with anything we’ve been doing.  Sound about right?”

“Please remove yourself from my brain, thanks.”

The laugh that escaped Joe shook his shoulders, his head shaking along with it and his hair falling into his face from where it had fallen from his hair tie.  “Have you ever considered that your thoughts are practically broadcast on your face ma? Or at the very least… I know what the texts and the food deliveries and everything else have felt like the last two months?  Friendly support and this…”  He gestured to the intimate setting, the alcove that protected them from prying eyes while still leaving them a perfect view of the floor to ceiling windows. “This is more.  Though I would’ve thought we crossed that more threshold that first night.  But again, that’s just me.”

His teasing wink sent color spreading across her cheeks.  “I honestly… I don’t know how to count that night.  It was appreciated and… unexpected… considering how much trouble you’d given me in the past.  I… thank you Joe.”  She realized as the words left her mouth, that this was the first time she’d properly thanked him for the emotional support he’d provided.  From saving her from herself that night.

“So this is something that’s been in the works for a while hasn’t it.”

Joe raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching upwards in what Lale could only assume was a smirk.  “Certainly cutting to the chase aren’t you.  Yes I’ve thought about this for a while, no it’s not exactly been in the works.  I didn’t want to put pressure on you with everything else that’s going on in your life.” He reached across the table to rest his hand on hers.  “But tonight wasn’t exactly in the cards.  I was just so frustrated with creative not sharing these last minute changes, with the improv that Sefa brought to the table… that seeing you…”  He shrugged, shifting in his chair, his gaze moving away from hers.  “Seeing you was exactly what I needed.  And I owe Kayla big time for getting you back there.”

Her suspicions confirmed, Lale released a breath she hadn’t intended on holding. “I think… I also owe her big time for this.”  She turned her hand under his, her fingers curling around his.  It was a gesture that Joe returned with a soft squeeze, his expression softening as they held on to one another across the table.  

A few hours later, the pair stumbled out of the restaurant.  Joe’s arm comfortably around Lale’s shoulder, her hand resting against his chest as they headed back towards the waiting Escalade.  The dinner had flown by with conversation, laughter, and at least a bottle and a half of wine between them.  Lale was lost in the warmth and presence of the man beside her and, if she was being honest with herself, didn’t want this night to end.

The car sat idling beside them and both were hesitant to open the door.  To start the journey back to their hotel that would signify the end to their night.  Joe was looking down at her now, large calloused palm brushing hair out of her face, grazing her cheek on it’s way by.  “Lale…” He leaned in close, strong arms framing her against the vehicle.  “Joe?” She looked up at him through her eyelashes, tongue wetting her lip, letting her hands rest comfortably against his chest.  

“Can I?”

She knew exactly what he was asking and nodded.  His lips descended upon hers.  A gentle gesture given the size of the man, as well as the character he played for the masses.  Her eyes drifted closed, arms wrapping around his shoulders.  His arms moved from the car, one arm wrapping around her waist, the other reaching up to cup her jaw and deepen the kiss.  Her lips parted eagerly, his tongue sliding between to claim hers.  Fireworks went off from somewhere. Or if she’d been paying attention, the light of a camera flash. Either way, she was too lost in the moment for any of it to matter.

He pulled away after a moment, resting his forehead against hers, his chest heaving.  “Come back to my room with me?”  

Lale was not quite that tipsy.  She looked up at him once more, an eyebrow raised as she met his gaze.  

“Okay, not like that… like that first night yeah? Just… this time don’t go hiding in the shower first?”

Lale snorted, teeth worrying at her bottom lip as she considered.  “Alright, as long as you’re good with stopping by my room first.  I would like to actually shower this time… deal?”

“Deal.”

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

Would you write a smut fic with ghost x dom reader x soap??(reader can be fem or gn and make both boys submissive maybe a moment where they fuck each other and the reader watches them and controls them).IDK WRITE IT HOWEVER YOU IMAGINE IT. I just dont have the skill to write so i am requesting it here.I hope its not weird.

I got you (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

Ghost x Dom!Reader x Soap

Ghost and Soap find themselves crushing on the same woman on their team, a friendly bout between two comrades to see who you'll choose, only your answer's not one they'd expected to hear.

NSFW 18+, Shameless Smut, Porn With Plot, very little plot, MMF, P in V sex, Tons of Teasing, Steamy Makeouts, Groping, Grinding, Double-Penetration, Anal, Ceampie, Explicit Description, Graphic Language, Dom!Reader, Sub!Soap, Sub!Ghost, Sexual Tension, Some Ghostsoap moments as well, Playful Banter, Bickering, Flirting, Build-Up, Jealousy, Soap and Ghost are fighting over the same girl, but it's friendly competition, ends in a three way too so, will do more proofreading I promise!

WC: 7k ~

Author's Note: This took me way longer to type than it probably should have. I hope it makes for a good read. It's total nonsense, and probably not very realistic (though I do try). It's not exactly like the anon, I'm sorry! But hopefully, it's still good. Please, please, please enjoy, and thank you so much for reading my things!

Masterlist

The front door shut close, leaving the living room just a bit more silent now that its previous company had just departed. You look back towards your remaining two house guests, the smile already unable to stop from forming on your face. You'd been hoping for some alone time with both Ghost and Soap, and it seems fate would smile on you tonight, for now, you had both of them here.

You invited the whole team back over to your place for the weekend, after having just come back from an op with both Price and Gaz, which lasted damn near over a month. The whole thing had been rather uneventful, to say the least; some reconnaissance and leads which went mostly nowhere (well, nowhere for your team; Laswell definitely had a heyday from the sound of things).

With how mind-numbingly dull the whole assignment turned out to be, everyone couldn't be happier to finally sit back and relax with some drinks and good company once back home. All night you spent recapping the events of the mission, including all the monotony which had conspired.

At one point, the most entertainment you could find out there had been both you and Gaz slowly "misplacing" Price's things -- unimportant items that wouldn't do any harm if left unnoticed. You had bets on how long it'd take for him to notice things slowly going missing everyday.

Surprisingly, you nearly got away with it for a whole week, until one morning when he finally questioned the funny look you two had on your faces when he'd been scratching his head, completely perplexed by the absence of his things. Price was in a better mood retelling the story than he had been in the moment.

Eventually, everyone started to disperse as the night went on -- Price got tired and left first, maybe an hour after that Gaz called it a night as well. Once they'd left, you found yourself in your living room with the only two mates you'd been thinking about all day, Ghost and Soap.

Only unbeknownst to both you and each other, both men had deliberately been trying to stick around, having shared the sentiment in wanting some long-awaited alone time with you... except the night keeps getting later, and they both keep giving each other increasingly odd looks, impatiently waiting for the other to leave so they could finally make a move on you.

Both Ghost and Soap have wanted you for a long time now, longer than either men cared to admit. Funnily enough, it was Ghost who'd caught feelings first.

It came to him as randomly as a Tuesday morning. You were just doing what you normally do. However, it had been your mundane actions that somehow drew him in initially. How you go about life with a smile and good attitude, the way you look at him when you found something funny, and the slight lilt to your voice when you talk and get excited. He would feel a lucky man indeed to be yours.

However, Soap had been the one to be more upfront about his interest in you, after developing feelings of his own. The Sergeant's likings to you came suddenly and without warning, but once they'd developed, it couldn't be more obvious that he was down BAD.

More often than not was he finding little excuses to touch you, whether it be a passing hand on the small of your back when squeezing by, or a congratulatory hug after a successful mission. Soap's suave charisma made it easy to do. And with the touching, it was always followed by some sly little line that would have you blushing and pulling at the fabric of your sleeve all shy-like.

He's slowly ramped the flirting up the more time passes, and Ghost knows if he doesn't at least say something now, then it won't be long before Soap takes the chance himself. Tonight had felt a perfect enough opportunity to finally make some waves, though, Soap was fast proving to be a formidable opponent.

"Jeez!" You stretch your hands over your head and yawn dramatically, both men's eyes luring a bit longer than they should have on you as you did so. "I didn't realize how late it was getting."

"Aye, same," Soap lets out a little yawn as well, making himself more comfy on your couch. "You don't mind though, no?"

"Not at all," you say. If only they knew how many nights you've spent letting one of the two men be your idle bedtime fancies into slumber. Wondering what it was they could be doing at that moment in time, and if they'd been thinking of you too. "I missed you guys."

"Aw, we missed you too, lass," Soap smiles at you, before his gaze drops over to Ghost's, who'd begun to glare.

He often forgoes the mask in more domestic environments like this with the team, the others having already seen him before. Though it didn't stop the man from forgetting not to wear his emotions on his face like he still had one on. You thought his eyes were expressive, but little had you all known it was only the tip of the iceberg.

Keeping calm and remaining stoic in combat is one thing, however, anger and disapproval came easy to him, in which case he rivaled for having the worst poker face you'd ever seen.

The Sergeant had taken this fouled expression for disagreement in his statement, even as the look had been for an entirely different reason altogether. Soap merely goes on, "Or, I missed you at least. Ghost might feel differently."

Bastard. Putting him on the spot like this; Ghost almost chuckles, the cheeky fuck. He knew what Soap was trying to do: subtly make himself look better in your eyes so that you choose him over the other.

Had he known better, Ghost would think Soap might actually be aware of the lieutenant's crush on you, by the way he smirked in his direction after saying it. He admits he hadn't expected Soap to partake in such petty games either; then again, this was a first, the two of them liking the same woman like this.

If this is how he plays, then Ghost thought only one thing -- Game on.

"Oh I'm sure you missed me too," you stand up from the couch now, twirling over to face him. "Right, Si'?"

"And then some, love," Ghost says.

Your smile brightens, and the man is ashamed to say that it gives him the warm fuzzies in these late hours. The way the living room lighting curved over your neck had also been a sight worth eliciting something deep within him.

Ghost takes a quick glance over at Soap, catching his less-than-excited reaction to the lieutenant's successful line. He has to remember not to grow too expressive at that moment. Not with you here at least.

You excuse yourself to the restroom shortly after, having paid no mind to the growing tension between your comrades. You'd all but taken the soothing atmosphere with you, leaving instead an awkward aura Ghost and Soap willfully drowned themselves in.

It's Ghost who speaks first, his dark eyes having watched your backside make its way down the hall and round the corner. The more drink he had in him, the less subtle his staring grew. Soap has noticed as much tonight especially.

"It's gettin' rather late." Ghost straightens up in his seat before finishing off his Bourbon and placing it back down on the coffee table. "Damn near one in the a.m. Yet you look proper cozy, mate."

"Aye, I am," Soap says rather proudly, further making his point by getting comfortable on the couch and taking another swig of his tequila. "Been too long since I been 'ere. Was startin' to miss layin' on the ol' thing," he rubs the cushion as though he were petting an old dog.

Ghost leans back in his seat now. "You stay over this late often, then?"

Soap pauses, having to double take that question, until his blue eyes fell on Ghost's brown ones, and he saw clearly what he was asking him.

He asks the man right back, "Do you, mate?"

A cocky little grin forms on the Scotsman's face. Had Ghost not been so wrapped up in you, it might have brought him to a pause there. Soap always did have a nice smile.

Soap didn't have to be a genius to know Ghost liked you though; he goes all but slack-jaw anytime you walk by him. Not to mention it wasn't a common thing for Ghost to be the one sticking around late during a get-together. He's normally the first to call it a night, in fact.

Only tonight, that hadn't been the case for him at all. No, Ghost was as planted in his chair as Soap was; they both might as well have sprouted roots. And they both had enough drink to muster up the right amount of bravado needed to keep this sudden, little interrogation going.

"I asked you first, Johnny," Ghost says, his deep voice laced with something more playfully cunning.

"And I answered you," Soap teases back.

"With a question."

"It's still an answer, no?"

Now Soap was just being deliberately obtuse. Ever since he knew he could do it, Soap's enjoyed pushing the lieutenant's buttons and getting a rile out of him. It's only increased tenfold over the last year, not that Ghost has tried to stop him.

Ghost leans forward now, resting his arms on his knees and furrowing his brow. "A'right, out with it, then," he says. "What's your game 'ere?"

Soap's brow furrows rather facetiously. '"I'm sorry, sir?"

"Don’t play dumb Johnny." The playful tone Ghost once used before has now since cooled, growing darker. "You know wha' I'm askin'."

Soap merely smirks, resting his arm back against the couch. "The same game you're playing, yeah?"

"And what game is that, Johnny?"

Soap can't help but laugh now, growing more and more cocky with each loaded exchange. On a normal day, Ghost might manage to intimidate the Sergeant every so often with his sheer presence, let alone his words. However, when it comes to women, Soap couldn't feel more in his element, especially up against his superior.

"One I'll beat you in."

Now it's Ghost's turn to have a laugh. A subtle thing, trapped beneath the burliness of his chest, though its deep rumble is audible enough, having warmed the Scotsman's cheeks at the sound.

"I doubt that," Ghost says.

"You underestimate my charm L.T."

Soap puckers his lips and kisses the air between the two men mockingly. As much as Ghost tried to hide it, the sight had made the air catch in his throat for a second. It's that usual, competitive nature about the Sergeant that really gets Ghost's blood pumping during these mutual bouts of bickering.

"My last statement still stands," Ghost chuckles. "So what? You thought I'd leave and you two would just go at it then?"

"I wouldn't say it like that," Soap says. "...But I was hoping to have some alone time with her, yes."

"And you figured on waitin' for the rest of us to vacate before making a move..." Ghost shrugs with affirmation. "...Clever man."

"Yeah, well, what about you?" Soap asks. "Clearly we're both still here for the same reason. What's your "game", L.T.?"

"It's not your concern."

Soap groans, sinking back in his seat, though he hadn't been surprised by his response. "Suppose it isn't, then," he says. "It's hers."

"That's right," Ghost agrees. "We can't both have her."

"Can't we?"

Ghost brings his eyes forward to Soap's, having thought his comment been a mere joke. However, once their gazes matched, Ghost could see that his Sergeant was dead serious.

Personally, Soap's never been opposed to the idea of a threesome. He'd even be lying if he said he hadn't fantasized about it from time to time, as boyish as it sounds. Adding Ghost into that equation hadn't tripped him up much in the slightest either; Lord knows the lieutenant would be next on Soap's list if you weren't at the top of it already.

Still, Ghost had a hard time even picturing a scenario where something like that could happen, let alone with all three of you. No doubt the man had been interested in you, and for a while, he'd even felt something for Soap as well, feelings that haven't necessarily gone away.

Something with all three of you would no doubt be perfect, however, it just seemed...

"Let's be real here, Johnny." Ghost leaves it at that.

"Suit yourself," Soap merely shrugs, before a light bulb moment suddenly lets off in his eyes. "How about we bring this to the source then? Hey Y/N!"

"Soap-"

"Oi, calm down, mate," he smiles at him. "No point in beatin' 'round the bush, aye?"

You reemerge from around the corner, having heard their voices vaguely through your door this entire time, but not being able to put full words together. Not without having your ear pressed to the wall. From the "uh-oh" look you had on your face, though, something told the two men you were already preparing for them to say something crazy.

"What's up?"

Soap gives Ghost a final look, waiting to see if the man will protest. However, when he sees that he doesn't speak, Soap grins, turning back to you.

"If you had to pick between Ghost and I, who're you choosin'?"

"Pick for what?" you ask, certainly needing clarification. "For battle?"

Soap bursts out laughing, just now feeling how awkward it was going to be explaining this to you. "No," he says. "Like if you had to pick one of us to... I don't know, go out on a date with, who would you pick?"

You keep smiling at Soap like he's joking, waiting to hear him laugh, but once you see he hasn't budged, you feel your heart begin to race.

Your eyes grow wide, now suddenly embarrassed to have the spotlight on you. "You're seriously asking?"

Soap nods. "I am."

You look over at Ghost now. Surely this was just another one of Soap's antics. "You too?"

Ghost shrugs. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious."

You were hoping he wouldn't say that. But, if they were asking, then may God be your witness as you answer them.

Placing a hand to your chin, you pout to yourself and look back and forth between your teammates, sizing both men up for every physical feature they had to offer.

Your mind immediately goes to the gutter, not being able to help it. You've found them both distractingly good-looking ever since you joined the team, and you've more than thought about this before. Just never in comparison. Or out loud.

Soap looks like he'd be fun to play with -- he's eager, energetic, and even better, open-minded. Not to mention he was cocky too; you always liked a man who could talk his shit and back it up. With those big arms of his, he could just box you in against the bed and pin you down good and firm, as he drills into you, cooing that sweet little accent of his in your ear like he would. It made your body tingle just thinking about it.

And then there was Ghost; if there was any voice you wouldn't mind having growled in your ear while being fucked senseless, it was his. Unlike Soap, you just knew you wouldn't get it rough like you would from Ghost. You've lost count of how many times you've caught yourself gawking at him during sparring sessions or while out in the field, watching that bulking mass of muscle of his he called a body, manhandle any and everything in his way. Having him do the same to you in a more intimate sense never failed to make the lower parts of yourself start to throb at the thought.

After giving both men a good, long look, you sigh, letting your arms fall back to your sides.

"I can't choose."

"Ah, don't be shy now, lass," Soap says. "If you're worried about hurtin' our feelings-"

"No it's not that," you cut in. "It's just not an easy choice, you know?"

Ghost raises an eyebrow now. "Oh?"

"Oh, don't act all surprised, Simon."

"You like us both then?" Soap asks cautiously.

"I'd say so." You begin to smirk. "Why? What's going on here?"

The two give each other a look, before Ghost goes to explain things to you.

"We're just trying to figure out which one of us has a shot."

"Figures you should be the deciding vote, seeing as you're the subject of interest, lass."

You imagine you look pretty stupid standing at the center of your living room all wide-eyed like you do, but frankly, this just feels too good to be true. It hadn't been one of them that was supposedly into you, but both of them. If you could do a backflip, you'd do twelve right now, no questions asked.

But before you get head over heels about this, "So you're saying you both want me then?"

"In more ways than one, darlin'," Soap teases.

You glance over at Ghost this time, having taken note of his sudden silence. "You too, Simon?"

He hadn't necessarily been prepared to confess his feelings to you, not like this, and much less in front of an opposing audience. Still, Ghost wouldn't have his own Sergeant show him up so easily. Plus, the way your eyes lured at him this whole time had a chill running down his spine, making it hard to concentrate. So he nods, "That's right."

A devilish smile slowly creeps over your lips.

"Well, can't I just have you both?"

"Aye, that's what I'm sayin'!"

"Problem solved then, right?" You laugh.

"If only," Soap says. "Ghost didn't seem up for it when I brought it up earlier-"

"You puttin' words in my mouth now, Johnny." Ghost cuts in.

"Oh, don't switch up now L.T.-"

"Boys," you cut in before they've started going back in forth again, a playful smile still painting your lips. You were eating this up, if you were being honest. "Relax," you say. "We can... get to the bottom of this, yeah?"

Both your eyes shift over to Ghost, who now sits awkwardly to himself on the couch, hands resting motionless on his large lap.

"Well Simon?" You ask him. "Are you down?"

"I'm not one for sharing, love," Ghost coos at you.

You slowly make your way over to the lieutenant, your eyes looming over him like a panther that's just found its next meal. Ghost feels himself hold his breath, watching as you've paused just in front of him, your back now facing Soap, though you can feel his eyes on your backside, taking in the nice view of you, and feeling himself grow harder in his pants.

This close, having smelt your scent on the way over, and felt the remnants of your breath in the air between you two, Ghost could feel his mind beginning to slip out from itself, heading into dangerous territories.

He could see in your eyes you knew exactly what you were doing too. Exactly what you wanted to do. The ball was in your park, and that made you in charge from this point on. The only thing they needed to do now was listen. And Ghost was sitting at the edge of his seat, waiting to hear you.

"Come on, Si'," you say so playfully. "Don't be greedy."

Ghost merely scoffs, an awkward smile forming. "How can I not?"

As though to then challenge the man, you step even closer, placing yourself right at the brink between his legs, having now rested your dainty hands over his muscular thighs like a ledge to lean on. The man can't even stop himself from letting his hands rest on your hips, your body naturally shifting just a little closer as he's done it. Every little thing you did had him ready to tear you out of your clothes and devour you whole.

No, the man knows he's too greedy for his own good. If he had even the smallest taste of you, he wouldn't want your attention on no one other than him. Howbeit, looking back over towards the Sergeant only made him want to throw that caution out the window.

Soap doesn't see the man staring daggers into him at first; his blue eyes have been glued to your ass since you turned your back to him. For the short second he does glance up at the lieutenant, he grins daringly. Taunting him to go home and tuck tail so he could have you all to himself instead. Make this easier for him tonight.

That's just what Soap wants, Ghost thought. Here the opportunity was now to have you, and he's fumbling it away all because he feels he can't share with Soap. Saying it again in his head like that gets him thinking though. If that's the only hurdle between him and you fucking, then it seemed easy enough to step over.

He won't back down that easily, even if he has to "share" you. If you want him like he wants you, then you'll have him, however way you like, just as he'll have you.

Ghost brings his hands down and lets his fingers graze your ass just enough for the Sergeant to see since he couldn't keep his eyes off you. Sickly enough, he hopes the sight is driving the Scot mad. God knows Ghost feels mad enough himself.

The minute you've felt his touch on you, you hum pleasantly, stepping even closer, so that he could take better hold of your bottom and have your small body caged between his large arms and legs like walls, his face only inches or so from yours.

Ghost could feel himself getting more comfortable with the idea of sharing. At least when he had you to himself like this. Especially with how your hands have begun to leisurely rest over his shoulders now, keeping the man just as close.

"I knew you'd come around," you praise, your words now having the man feeling giddy, ready to take them to further levels.

"Just takes the right convincing," he hums.

"I'm feelin' awfully lonely back 'ere," Soap chimes in, doing the best he could not to sink so low as to start touching himself before being given the OK by you first, wanting to hear the words leave your pretty, little mouth. Even as his cock was already throbbing in his pants for some relief.

You merely chuckle, cocking your head back to look at the Sergeant. "I haven't forgotten about you, don't worry," you coo. "You just be a good little lad and wait a moment, yeah?"

Though he wanted to protest, step over, and take you all for himself, Soap did as you told him to and stayed put, continuing to let his eyes have their way with the parts of your body he's all but only been able to steal quick glances at before. He could only hope his patience would be rewarded; and so long as you keep talking to him like you are now, he'll wait until the sun rises if he has to.

You turn your attention back to Ghost, not having forgotten about his hands which oh so nonchalantly groped the cheeks of your ass, kneading and massaging his fingers into the backs of your thighs. He wanted nothing more than to keep letting his hands roam until they've found the center of you, his mind already playing the short gasps and moans you'd make with his fingers knuckle deep in you.

He knew you'd only make him regret it if he so much as did anything without your say-so first.

You reveled at seeing both men so eager and receptive to listen, given how fast this all went down. Frankly, it's got your head spinning so fast that you feel like you've just been drugged. However, rather than let that adrenaline crumble you down, you instead use it as chaotic fuel to your lustful actions.

You climb onto Ghost's lap like a backward chair, straddling him down with your thighs and rocking yourself against him. As he's felt you grind generously so, a tattered breath escapes his lips. Broken and faint. His expression does all it can do to remain as still as possible, only to fail, as his gaze lowers, bouncing between your eyes and lips.

Having his hands grow a mind of their own, Ghost lets them slide to your back, encouraging you to keep moving against him, which you do gladly, the lust bubbling down your lower half like a chemical reaction.

"Fuck, love," Ghost huffs out. "You're really takin' me for a ride right now, aren't you?"

"Hope you're buckled in," you tease, following it with another smooth sway of your hips, giving the man a deep grind hard enough to leave him breathing heavy.

Just when he's about ready to kiss you, you look back over at Soap, smiling. Your index finger lifts innocently, beckoning the man. "Come along now, big boy," you say.

You don't have to tell him twice.

In a matter of seconds, the man is behind you, towering over you and keeping you now sandwiched between both him and Ghost.

When you see they're both waiting on your next word, you chuckle to yourself, the power now starting to go to your head. To think, you had two of the deadliest men on your team damn near drooling, ready to fuck you. How could you not let it get to your head?

"Well," you give both men a final lurid, look, and say, "I'm waiting."

Soap and Ghost exchange wary looks, suddenly unsure of what to do with themselves now that they had you like this. Evidently, despite you already sitting on the lieutenant's lap, it's Soap who swoops in for the kiss first.

You feel his large hand push past your hair and curve around your jaw, his fingers grazing your neck before he's cocked your head back to give you a proper eye-fucking, before he's leaned down and smacked his mouth against yours, Ghost be damned.

You wiggle on Ghost's lap, your legs tightening over his thighs in an attempt to keep balance as the Sergeant all but swallowed you whole, his hands cupping around your face, keeping you from escaping.

Using the Sergeant as further support, you stretch your arms over your head and let them rest against Soap's shoulders like a warm wall, your hands cupping his face and keeping him just as pulled in, your tongues trading the taste of each other and your body unconsciously rocking over Ghost's crotch, feeling two sets of arousal brim in you from top to bottom.

Having you bouncing over his cock like this was driving Ghost feral, getting off on just the sight of you. Of course, watching you make precise work with Soap's mouth soon had the lieutenant wanting more, growing impatient waiting for the Sergeant to let up.

Ghost instead lets his hands cup over your breast, groping and massaging them generously through your shirt. His mouth finds your neck bare for his teeth, sinking them in lightly each time before he's left a heated kiss in its place, letting his lips travel down your neck until he's felt his tongue graze your collarbone, complimenting the kissing Soap gave you above.

Your mouth may be occupied by the Sergeant's, but your body belonged to the lieutenant, so long as you continued to bounce on top of him like you were.

He lets one hand leave your breast, sliding his fingers and letting them dig against your clothed skin, until it's ducked between your legs, beginning to fumble with the buttons of your pants.

It's here you've parted your mouth from Soap's, the man looking down at your doe-eyed expression, hungering for more. You see the tinge of excitement that lights up in the sky-blue of his eyes as he watches your hands make their way toward his belt, swiftly undoing it and pulling it from his waist. If Ghost would have his way with you, then you would have yours with Soap.

Ghost has slipped his hand into your pants just as you've sprung Soap's cock free of its trouser, his large member sitting in your palm like a heavy, third limb. Soap can barely enjoy the sight of you holding him so close before you've let your tongue tease over the head of him, sucking lightly at the tip and tasting the remnants of his precum on your tongue.

Soap lets his head cock back pleasurably, groaning out to himself with a smile. "Ah," he groans, "You're too good to me, Bonnie."

Soap lets his hands rest at the side of your head rather brutishly, lightly nudging your mouth further down onto his cock, his abs tensing as he listened to the light gags you let out. Despite his persistence, you kept control of yourself, making sure that your movements had the man locked into your touch. It hadn't helped that your mind was caught in two places right now.

Ghost let his two fingers massage against your clit as though he were tasked with his life to see the job done properly. The tips of his fingers dip between your folds and tease your hole, before letting your slick lubricate him, soon to return rubbing against your bud in ways that made the entire lower half of your body feel sore with lust.

And it hadn't been enough to have his hand down your pants making a ruined mess of you. Ghost's other hand very much continued to pluck and roll at your nipple, having slipped beneath your shirt at some point during the interaction, holding against you as you rocked yourself against his hand, your moans humming over the Sergeant's cock and sending a wave of euphoria down him as well.

With one hand still free, you decide it's time that Ghost enjoys himself as well. He watches your single hand with hungry eyes, slightly shaken and erratic from both his fingering and Soap's cock a mere inch away from hitting the back of your throat, the man's groans of approval like music to your ears. Your hand travels down to his belt and undoes it with ease before you've slipped him free of his jeans as well, your fingers taking in the very shape of him.

Your thumb grazes his dripping tip, letting it slick down his shaft before you've begun to pump at him, feeling the man's body tense at your touch. It makes his fingers against your clit lose their rhythm, but only momentarily.

"Fuckin' hell," he breathes out. "Just like tha', love."

The Sergeant glances down at the lieutenant, catching his dazed eyes locked on your bobbing mouth, taking in a full review of your work on the Sergeant's cock.

He could see it in the man's eyes, he was jealous, envious that he had your mouth all to himself while he had to settle for your hand. Granted your fingers danced about his shaft like an angel in her craft, though even he couldn't resist the allure that was watching your saliva dribble down his subordinate's cock, imagining the warmth of your throat struggling to take his entire length. You've felt his cock throb in your hands just at the thought, his hips faintly chasing your purposefully coy grip on him.

Soap chuckles, not being used to seeing his superior so awestruck and drunk with lust, hearing all sorts of noises and groans from the man he could never have imagined.

"Enjoyin' the show there, L.T.?" Soap teases, quickly following it by readjusting his hand on the side of your face, taking light hold of you to help further steady your already perfect rhythm.

In response, Ghost slips a third finger in you, listening to the carnal noises your cunt made at each thrust of his fingers, watching your mouth twitch over the Sergeant, momentarily struggling to suck him off through the moans that clawed out of you. That gets you to put more attention back on Ghost, your hand taking better hold of his cock and dancing over the large girth of him, keeping a steady motion until you've seen the wave-like rising and falling of his chest.

Through his light panting, Ghost taunts, "Got the best seat in the house, Johnny."

"Oh, is tha' righ', mate?" Soap licks his lips, and lets his eyes drop noticeably down to the lieutenant's cock, watching your single hand continue to pump at him, barely able to hold it all in one hand. It makes the Sergeant let out a teasing groan. "Shall we put it to the test then, L.T.?"

Ghost stares at the Sergeant, hungry for the man just as much as he starved for you.

"Be my guest, Johnny."

Hearing the two go back and forth had you giddy to see what both men had in store for each other. However, it had you just as eager to join in on the fray yourself.

After what felt like an eternity of having your drool dribble itself over the Sergeant's cock, you let your lips part from him, and with your other hand, remove yourself from Ghost as well, giggling at their kicked-puppy-dog expressions.

"I have a better idea," you say. You reach for the bottom of your shirt before pulling it over your head and discarding it at the edge of the couch. Once removed, both men fell on the same page rather quickly.

Soap's hands hastily fumbled at the clasp of your bra, before the fabric has fallen loose and your chest now lay bare for Ghost's full perusal. He hardly any time to truly enjoy it before you've momentarily climbed from him to rid yourself of the rest of your clothing, now standing a dripping, naked beauty of a woman.

Both men could do nothing more but stare, hands subconsciously stroking oneselves at the sight of you.

"Now," you say. "I can't have you both feeling so left out while the other fucks me."

"It would be cruel," Ghost quips gruffly, his eyes having been glued to your chest since he's seen your breast bounce so freely before him.

You step back over to Ghost, retaking your place over his lap and letting his cock rest thick beneath you, your sopping folds hugging warmly over him, sending a shiver down his entire body. You grind slowly, letting your fluids paint him, and wetting yourself good for what you were dying to have.

Ghost leans in, letting his hand rest on the small of your back and his lips caress the shell of your ear. "This is much crueler," he whispers. His hands immediately cupped over your breast again, recapturing the feeling of you and letting his hips lightly rock, chasing every part of you he could.

You lean forward until you've felt his nose brush the tip of yours and his breath tickle your lips.

"Don't get pouty now, Si'," you coo.

"Aye," Soap chimes in. "You're the one goin' first."

You look over at Soap playfully, leaning forward to pull him back in close by the hem of his shirt.

"I already told you two not to be greedy," you let your hand retake hold of him, your fingers curving over his girthy length gently. It shuts him up quickly, coming back in so closely to you both. "You two can share."

"What's your plan then, love?" Ghost asks, already having let his hand dive back down between your legs, gripping over his cock so the tip of his head could tease at your hole, wetness and slick coating you both.

You take your hand and you rub it against yourself, making sure every bit of your parts below had been lubed. You bring that same, dripping hand back up to Soap, before dressing his cock with your warm fluids, massaging the man, and feeling the grooves of his veins against your fingers throb.

"Now be a good little spotter and watch my back," you say playfully, before letting your eyes dip back down to Ghost. "I think the lieutenant's got the front covered."

Soap chuckles to himself, before you've felt his large hands rest gently against your bare shoulders, his callous fingers running down slowly to take a hefty handful of your ass, gripping the cheek tightly. He spreads you roughly, his eyes growing large at the sight of you, already knowing his cock would be more than a tight fit for you and devilishly longing for it.

As you've felt Soap rub his cock between your ass, letting your cheeks hug him, his hand digging possessively into your skin, you feel Ghost's hand lock over your neck, holding you there gently in front of him. That way your eyes could stay on him as his cock continued to gently nudge at your hole, only a single thrust away from finally entering you.

"You sure you can take us both?" Ghost asks.

"Wouldn't want to hurt you, lass," Soap adds in.

You position yourself better over Ghost, ready to retake your seat.

"I can handle myself, boys," you say. "Now, show me who wants it more."

You lower yourself on Ghost's cocks, feeling your folds begin to stretch and the grooves of your walls run by every vein and shape of him. It's too much at first, and he can see it in your wincing face, however, you keep lowering yourself, powering through that initial pain and instead letting that pressure boil in you like nothing you've ever felt before. It was overwhelming, and it had your lips quivering with silent moans already.

Just as you've felt your pussy start to take the full length of him, you've felt Soap tease at your second hole, his cock rubbing playfully at you, the tip dipping in ever so slightly, giving you a completely new feeling altogether. His cock stretches you just as much as Ghost's, both men easing your body to the shape of them all at once, and both waves of pleasure complimenting each other in ways that had your body shaking over them, unable to string words together.

"Fuckin' Christ, you're tight, Bonnie," Soap groans.

"Don't... stop...," you say desperately, wanting to squash any reluctance they may feel. The pleasure your body ached for was just now beginning to reach its peak. "...I can take it."

Once your body adjusted, it hadn't grown long before this slow easing had turned into an organized attack, both men pounding savagely into you.

You sat, nearly sandwiched between two men, your chest pressed against Ghost's as he hugged you to him, his cock bullying into you powerfully, the base of himself smacking against your pussy at each thrust.

In rhythm, Soap rests his chest against your back, planting kisses at your spine each time he's let himself thrust just a bit deeper inside your ass. Your hole gripped his cock so tightly it nearly pulled at him each time he came out, only to crash another orgasm-inducing thrust into you, both him and Ghost going back in forth like well-trained machines.

"That's right lovey, there you go," Ghost praises you, his breath fanning your ear. "You're takin' us so well."

In the midst of both men's vicious pounding, it felt as though every bit of you all had been entangled in some way. Hands clumsily felt, hugged, and tugged at one another, chests heaving and moans forming an opera within your living room.

When your tongue wasn't dipping itself into Ghost's mouth, then you're head was cocked back, having a few more kisses be stolen from you by Soap. At some points even, when you're face was buried in Ghost's chest attempting to muffle your moans, you've felt both men lean in to keep each other company in the meantime, rough lips pressed harshly to one another in a passionate kiss you only wished to mirror once they've parted.

Mouths part just enough to concentrate on breathing, each gasp of air being halted by yet another thrust from both ends of you.

Both men have felt an animal-like fury come out of them at each orgasm they've pulled, feeling your body tighten over their cocks and your limbs shake with pleasure, drool, and tears leaking from you, your mind completely scrambled after eleven straight minutes of this.

It isn't until Ghost has opened his eyes again, finding your face twisted with pleasure, and seeing the Sergeant's love-drunk expression -- eyes half-lidded with lust, biting his lip -- that Ghost feels himself finally at his end.

His fingers claw harshly into your skin, his pace growing punishable. Seeing the lieutenant move so carnally clicked in the sergeant's mind quickly what that had meant, already being at the brink of a climax himself.

You hug yourself over Ghost's shoulders, your body so exhausted you could pass out right now before they've even finished. Even so, you couldn't get enough of this sensation; this could go on for another hour if they wanted it to.

"...I'm ready for it," you moan. "Give it to me..."

Both men's cocks pulsate in you, your holes being filled to the brim with their cum, as it drips from you sloppily once they've pulled themselves out.

With heavy huffs, everyone in the room falls back onto the couch, taking a moment to themselves to regain their air. You still couldn't believe that just happened... that any of this had happened.

"So," Soap pants out, about ready to crash on your couch again. "Which one of us did'ye think wanted you more?"

You give Soap a sly look, baffled he would even ask you that right now. "I don't know."

Author's Note: The behemoth has been slain! I'm NEVER typing a request that is longer than 3k words ever again (this took me almost a month and a half to type due to my schedule). However, I am open to any requests for prompts with the CoD boys, though preferably none that are straight smut (I'm kind of burnt out on it atm :/).

I do hope you enjoyed this, however, and please feel free to leave a comment or any feedback! Thank you again!

꒰ · ◡ · ꒱

[journey-to-the-attic]

3rd anni req 25: [HOST] asmo / shopping trips

ao3 link

note: the symbiote is now nicknamed charlie, and i think that's all the extra info you need? also whoaa second to last!! one more and i'll finally have finished this (which i really should've have done ages ago shfbdjshf)

∎ ∎ ∎ ∎ ∎

Asmo is - inarguably - an excellent shopper. He knows his brothers’ tastes, inside and out (not that he necessarily agrees with all of them, but he knows them). Certain brothers are easier to buy for than others, but he at least knows that, given a day, he can come back with something they’ll like - clothes, ornaments, or otherwise. Thus, it isn't a surprise that he’s put in charge of new clothes when the House of Lamentation first takes in its new ward.

It’s simple in the early days: find an old t-shirt, wash it well with a scentless detergent, then shrink it down to the size of a small smock. For IK, it seems comfortable and familiar.

She creeps out of the closet still clutching her old gown and stands there silently. Asmo resists the impulse to clap, and instead asks, “Comfy?”

IK doesn’t seem to know what he means. Moving slowly, he points to her, then to his own soft smile, then tilts his head to the side. After a moment, she nods.

“That’s enough for me,” He sighs, then stands up. “Alright, my darling. You’re doing great. Think you can come down with me?”

Every step up is slow, but it feels like they’re scaling mountains. Asmo spends a week stitching together a simple blouse and skirt, and hopefully leaves it in her room overnight. The next day, IK wanders out into the common room and asks him to help her do up the buttons. On the same morning, she lets him brush her hair.

Every occasion is momentous; every stride without fear is victory. In these conditions, it’s very easy for certain demons to gain false confidence when overlooking these precipices.

Two facts: first, Asmo is an optimist with confidence to a fault. Second, he’s just as capable as certain demons of making poor decisions on impulse.

IK’s first shopping trip is a disaster. Several weeks of excellent progress with forays into the outside world culminate in one impatient customer in a department store. They barge past in the shoe aisle and brush a little too close, a little too quickly, and just as quickly find themselves - and the entire store - surrounded down by a forest of angry black tendrils.

Another fact: Asmo has little sympathy for those who bring ill fortune on themselves. By the time Lucifer and Satan arrive to salvage the situation, Asmo is still berating the pushy demon for starting this whole mess in the first place. To be fair, Lucifer doesn’t help much, as he immediately falls to scolding Asmo, which leaves Satan to attempt to talk things out with an irate manager.

IK is just about the only one who comes out of the situation happy - Charlie, while still wreaking havoc for everyone else, has gotten rather good at self-soothing its skittish host. While Satan loses patience with the manager and begins shouting louder than everyone else, and while that poor pushy demon attempts to get either Lucifer or Asmo’s attention, Charlie leads IK through to the kitchen appliances section and begins happily destroying the place.

It takes longer than everything else to track IK down and remove several sharp instruments from the various extra limbs Charlie has sprouted. They discover in the aftermath that Charlie has also learnt to shoplift, which means IK comes away with a figurine from the front desk that Satan’s too irritated with the shop owner to return.

The bills afterwards are eye-watering. It’s a good thing Diavolo finds the whole escapade so amusing, or else they might never have been able to show their faces in public again.

It’s quite some time before Asmo’s brave enough to try again. So long, in fact, that IK outpaces him - she goes grocery shopping with the twins, accompanies Levi to one of his quieter pop-up cosplay events, and spends a day at a petting zoo with the angels. That terrified little baby hiding under a table feels more and more like the distant past, but for some reason… he’s still cautious.

There are just too many wild cards, and not enough contingency plans for them all. Sure, it’s been a long time since seeing a stranger has been enough to send Charlie into crisis mode, but impatient shoppers manage to set new lows every day.

It’s not about the clean-up afterwards. However brief it is, that flash of terror on IK’s little face always manages to break his heart all over again. It’s worth as many finger-pricks as it takes to avoid that, even if he has to stitch every little outfit by hand.

Still! There’s a first time for everything, but there’s also a second chance at everything. Nearly three months after that cataclysmic first trip, Asmo decides it’s finally time to try again. Redeem himself, so to speak.

They’ll go around some quieter local stores, instead of big chain outlets like the one from last time. Solomon’s had success showing IK around second-hand witch shops and apothecaries, and he knows from Satan that she likes the old shoe-maker down the street from the cat cafe.

Clothes aren’t as much of a concern now that he’s gotten the hang of sewing, but there’s lots more to see. The issue is that IK makes it so difficult to tell what she actually thinks of anything - it doesn’t help that, in all her practising of her smiles, she’s also learnt the Polite Smile. (Asmo’s not sure from who, but he has his money on Simeon.)

“Darling,” He says worriedly when IK nods obediently to the seventh ribbon in a row. “You know you can tell me if you don’t like something.”

She thinks about this for a while, then announces, “I don’t like beetroot.”

“That’s di— I mean, beetroot’s good for you, darling.”

“It looks like chopped blood.”

He sighs. “...never mind. That doesn’t matter. I mean, you can tell me if you don’t want all this stuff.”

“Charlie likes ribbons,” IK says. “They’re fun to rip up.”

Maybe we need to get some dog toys for it. “And what about you, darling?”

IK looks a little lost. A moment passes without a response, and Asmo sighs.

“Alright,” He says after a moment. “We’ll get the ribbons for Charlie. But promise you’ll tell me if you see something you like, okay?”

“Okay,” says IK, still looking gently puzzled. But she seems happy enough when he pays for the ribbons at the counter.

…it’s easy to forget how many more steps there are to go. It wasn’t all that long ago that she was confounded by smiling - though this isn’t quite the same thing.

Charlie likes everything from clacky hair-clips to lollipops with a fizzy centre. IK doesn’t like scratchy jackets or heavy bracelets. It’s hard to tell who’s talking - where one ends and the other begins.

“But what do you like?” Asmo asks what feels like a hundred times, and each time she looks as if he’s asked her a stupid question.

“I like blankets,” She’ll say, and he’ll find a fluffy patchwork quilt. IK will run her hands over it inquisitively, then nod and say, “Charlie loves it.”

He asks again and again, and each time there’s a new answer. “I like riding on Beel’s shoulders.” “I like Simeon’s cakes.” “I like Mammon.”

And he asks again after they leave a haberdasher with several spools of brightly coloured thread. IK must be thoroughly sick of him by now, but she answers valiantly, “I like Momo.”

Momo is her toy panda. Asmo had bought it on his way home from some promotional event, and she’s loved it ever since. Momo is named after Asmo, because IK loves both of them.

Asmo pauses. IK is almost stumbling on her feet. They’ve been browsing for ages - he’s been so determined to find something IK loves, and not Charlie.

“It’s late, isn’t it?” He asks apologetically, and reaches down to carry her, swapping all his bags to one arm with ease. “We should go home.”

IK doesn’t seem to hear him. She answers his first question again, face scrunched as if working hard to remember, “I like Levi’s jellyfish. I like my room.”

“I know, I know…” For some reason, he feels like crying. “You’re tired, huh? Come here, come here…”

His arms are definitely going to complain tomorrow morning, but for now he can hold everything up without much thought. IK clings to him and continues listing, “I like tea parties. I like the Little Ds.”

“That’s enough, sweetheart,” He murmurs, turning onto the main road to start heading home. If anyone tries approaching him, he swears he’ll snap. “I know.”

IK finally goes quiet. She lays her head on his shoulder, inadvertently poking her little horn into his neck. It already feels like there’s something lodged in there, so it doesn’t make much difference.

“I like this,” She says after a moment. “I like you. And Charlie likes you. Okay?”

He pauses in the middle of the street and earns a few side-eyes from the demons around him.

“...okay,” He whispers. “That’s enough for me.”

[cels-not-so-secret-love-affair]

falling to the music pt. 3 (jily)

a/n: it’s been a slow sort of week, but we’re making a comeback with another instalment of my silly little jily band au. yay!

previous | next

Mr Nice, sensibly, waits for Lily to text him before attempting to call her. She’s calmer when she does so, and about to cook dinner for herself and her roommates in her student flat. It’s something to do with her hands other than holding her phone, or potentially throwing it at a wall if he says anything either too irritating or too attractive. A preventative measure. After explaining the situation to James, she pops him on speakerphone, and props him up on the counter.

‘Hello?’ His voice is slightly tinnier over the line, but it still makes Lily shiver a little. It’s got a richness to it that feels comforting.

‘Good evening, James,’ she calls, slicing her chicken into strips.

‘Lily! Lily Evans, how are you?’ The full name should not have the effect it does. Nor should it send flashing images of the words Lily Potter through her mind. Christ, there’s something wrong with me.

‘I’m okay. Still recovering from the bashing my ego took after being ghosted for almost a full business week, but I’m breathing.’

‘I really am very sorry about that,’ he repeats earnestly.

‘Yeah, well. Just don’t go lobbing your new phone at gaggles of seagulls or whatever, and I’ll let you off.’

‘Duly noted.’ She can hear his smile again. It bleeds into the shapes of the vowels. Diabolical.

‘Enjoy your Saturday?’ she asks, moving to wash her hands.

‘Yes, actually. We had practice in the morning, trying out some new songs. Then I got some work done for school, went on a run, came home. Now I’m talking to you, which is, naturally, the highlight of my day.’

‘You’re a flirt, Mr Potter. What degree do you do?’ Lily’s switched to chopping vegetables now and, against her will entirely, has found herself smiling down at her red peppers.

‘Architecture! It sounds poncey, I know, but I swear on my life it’s interesting.’

‘I’ll believe you. Although I have to say it doesn’t match up very well with the whole lead guitarist thing.’

‘No matter how many cool points those showy riffs might earn me, I am, at heart, a bit of a nerd. Sorry to disappoint you.’

‘I’m not disappointed.’

‘I’ve lucked out then. How about you, what degree do you do?’

‘Hmm. You know what - have a guess. If you’re right I’ll chuck a bit of carrot at my screen as a reward.’ James laughs at that, and Lily feels a sense of accomplishment blooming in her chest. The sound is very easy to listen to.

‘Alright, I love a challenge. Let’s see… something to do with English?’

‘Bloody hell. How’d you figure that one out?’

‘I’m right, then?’

‘Yeah. English Language and Literature.’

‘Score! It was a bit of a guess really. You had a pin on the strap of your bag when you came to talk to me after the show. A proper enamel one, shaped like a stack of books. I remember wondering where you got it from.’ Lily is momentarily baffled at how this man can forget to charge his fucking phone and remember this seemingly innocuous detail about her all in the same day. It’s sweet, though, that he takes an interest. It almost makes her forget the four days spent sans text message.

‘That’s observant of you.’

‘Yeah, I suppose. Where did you actually get it from, the pin?’

‘Oh, it was just a gift from a friend.’

‘The one that came with you to the concert? Or someone else?’

‘No, not Mary, though she is basically unbeatable in the gift giving department. It was from one of my flatmates, Alice.’

‘Mary isn’t a flatmate then?’

‘No, she grew up here, so she’s living with her parents whilst she does her degree.’

‘Nice.’ A short quiet falls then. With any other of her previous interests, it probably would have been awkward, but not with James. It’s just nice. He’s nice.

‘What are you cooking?’ he pipes up after a few minutes.

‘Something simple. Chicken stir fry.’

‘I bet that’ll be great.’

‘Hopefully, yeah. Have you eaten yet, James?’ Lily is surprised at how soft the question sounds when it comes out of her mouth. The bastard’s endeared himself to me, she thinks.

‘Not yet. I’ll message Sirius in a bit, see what he fancies. He’s a shit cook, so it’s either I cook for the both of us or we go out for dinner.’

‘You guys are really close then.’

‘Yeah,’ James says, and he sounds like he’s properly proud of it. ‘He’s basically my brother. We grew up together, you know? And then he lived with us for a few years until the two of us were eighteen, and then we came to the same uni together and everything. We just get each other.’

‘That’s lovely.’

‘Yeah. He’s like, the best thing in my life right now. Him, and the band, and big Tesco’s.’ Lily laughs at that last addition.

‘A respectable top three, to be sure. How did it come about, the band?’

‘We all went to school together. But like, school’s boring, right? Or at least secondary is. So we needed something to make it more bearable, and there were two typical teenage things we came up with in the end. Pranks - aimed at teachers and cocky year sevens and generally just creating chaos - and starting a band. God, I don’t know how McGonagall put up with us. We’d run round the place like dickheads setting traps for whoever was unlucky enough to be in the Maths department that day, and then spend all our lessons planning stuff to do with the band. What songs we were going to play, what outrageous outfits Sirius could wear next, what we’d call ourselves. And then that never really stopped.’ James has a way of speaking that just puts you at ease, Lily finds. It’s almost like magic.

‘Sounds a lot more eventful than my experience at school.’

‘Yeah. Eleven to fifteen was pretty insane. We calmed down a bit after that - A Levels to think about and all.’

They keep talking for a while, on their cosy little cooking call. The conversation just seems to flow, moving from topic to topic like embroidery thread dipping into silk until Lily is somehow already plating up, five neat portions of food ready to be served. She tells James this, and he congratulates her on a job well done. Then, they say their goodbyes and he leaves her to the rest of her night. There’s a strange sort of emptiness after he hangs up the phone. She didn’t realise just how much she’d gotten used to having his voice chatting away in the background.

[preciadosbass]

5/8/24

woke up at 9:30. when i wake up naturally early i always say good morning to boris so i did that and then decided that i’m not exhausted to the point i should go back to sleep. i just doomscrolled the entire morning and saved a few max green edits along the way. i looked through a few pin sharing urbex groups on facebook and saved a couple videos to my watch later on youtube. its a pain there’s not actually much around where i live, like, that’s why i cant go out on my own. as much as woods are beautiful and nice to be around/at there’s not any shops or town in walking distance.

the next time my family go on a road trip hopefully i’ll be able to explore a few places then. there was an abandoned housing estate about 40 minutes from where i live but apparently it’s being demolished soon, plus i’m not allowed to go there anymore. as for any of the other stuff close-ish, it’s not really anything you can explore. however, i did find an abandoned plane graveyard online and it turned out it was decently close by to me. when i went they didn’t even let me take photos but they did email saying someone could tour me and show me the planes if i arrange a date which is exciting. although i’ll most likely have to wait until october so the plants around it die down.

when it got to about 10/11am my dad came down so i said goodmorning to him and had breakfast as he made me it and i’d feel bad not to. luckily i’ve found breakfast option which has a lot less cals than that bagel so i feel a little, tiny bit more relaxed about having food in the mornings. at 1 i went outside with boris and cuddled him on the driveway. he seems a lot more energetic today. i was sitting on the sleepers across from the front door with my feet outstretched and he layed down leaning against my leg/shoes it was so cute i just had to record it. while i was outside i also fixed the lighting of a picture of jaime and changed my layout and things on all my socials.

i also followed lots of cool people in hopes of become their mutual or something. i stayed out there until 2:20. when i got back inside asked my mum about that list of things on depop that i want to buy and she sent offers on all of the uk items for me. with the rest, i just had to wait until people got back to me about shipping. since yesterday i added one more item to my wishlist, a frank iero tattoo poster from an old magazine, i sent an order regarding this aswell. my mum was getting frustrated and didn’t really understand why i wanted the stuff that i did. but she did see my point about buying the funko pops second hand from depop rather than the official website.

i think i had a nap and woke up at approximately 4/half five but i’m not too sure about times. i saw an informative video about taxidermy and how to tell if things are ethical or not and remembered i was texted a mutual and they kept asking for advice regarding stuff like that, so i sent it to them. at around 5 my hairdresser came round so i got dressed for once [i hate departing from my onesie don’t judge me 🤫] and had my ends touched up. having my hair cut is always kind of awkward for me because i have to stop myself from asking to get it cut short. my parents are fine with it, im just terrible with change. but i have been wanting it short for 4+ years now. its just scary that once it’s done, if i don’t like it, there’s pretty much nothing anyone can do. i’m fine with dye.

before she was about to leave i found out that she’s going to be looking after boris when me and my family go to butlins. she’s really nice and talked me through everything/asked me to text her if i have anything particular i want her to do but i’m scared about leaving him. i think i have a few weeks until we go. i feel guilty saying this, but i am excited, i think. i haven’t been away with my whole family before. that dosent take away the worry though. once my parents had payed and she’d driven off i went outside with boris again.

i was out there up until 7:20 when i went back into my room and put on coraline. i finally found the dvd after looking everytime i watch something for weeks. i’ve watched it so many times i know everything that happens so while i was listening to it i wrote this before i’d forget everything about my day. my phone was blowing up at the same time because some rando keeps submitting anonymous messages harassing me over making music my personality loll — anyways, i watched up until the scene where the other mother gives coraline the box with the buttons in it until i went on a walk with my mum.

we left at almost exactly 9 and went to that same field i’ve spoken about before where you can see london in the distance. the person who owns it must’ve just mowed everywhere so we were just walking on really thick piles of dead grass so it was 10x more tiring. it left like i was walking through snow. obviously it was even more tricky because we walked down and then up the really steep hills. we got home at 10ish and was out for at least 40 or 50 minutes.

when we got back my mum handed me an envelope. i immediately knew what it was; since i’ve been young [7] i’ve had this youth thingy send me and my sister arts and crafts stuff related to the stuff going on at the time. i took it into my room i continued listening to coraline while i made a collage out of the zoos map from yesterday. i opened the envelope once id glued in half of the stuff i wanted to and used this wooden flower from it. i finished it at 11, and i cant tell if i despise it with every fibre of my being or if it’s tolerable. ive never made a collage with so much untouched and plain space [photo at the end]

coraline conveniently finished when i’d completed the collage so i went out to the kitchen to see boris. my mum started arguing with me about how the questions don’t affect me at all and they only have a negative affect on her and my dad when i asked when i should come up. i’m gunna admit, this kinda hit really hard because nobody knows how much it truly affects me and i’m too far gone to even be able to speak about it/write about it. because if i do then it’ll make something bad happen. but i do appreciate that it’s really draining for them too. i just cant stop.

boris went into the living room so i sat out there while finishing the rest of that mcr 2011 concert and updated this at 12 while listening to fall out boy’s folie á duex. once i’d written what i needed to i rewatched a few videos i took at my pierce the veil concert back in april. i’m still not over seeing jaime. i went up to my parents at 12:50 because thats when my mum said they’re ready for me to ask questions about boris. it took about an hour because it was on and off and i kept on getting sidetracked. afterwards i went downstairs, had some breadsticks [and found this huge ass spider living above our food cupboard], did my teeth, and said goodnight to boris.

i cant recall how long i was speaking to him, but i finished at 2:50. i told him about my day and what’s going to be happening tomorrow so he knows i might not be able to be with him as much as id want to. [my prevision is coming round tomorrow]. i got into bed directly after id finished speaking with boris, and listened to three days grace + the used while wrapping up this entry. went to sleep at 3. i usually get to sleep the second my head touches my pillow but it took me a few minutes more today because all i could focus on was the sound of electricity and my radiator. it isn’t even that whirring sound you’d hear at your grandparents when you sleep over, it’s high pitched and inconsistent and weird. also my stick insects were being noisy.

* ughh i hate this page sm it’s probably my least fav one i’ll ever do here’s a picture of boris to make up for it

have a good day/night O_o

[nerdieforpedro]

Chucho’s Magic Pickles

A Pickled Peña Fic

Javier Peña x Luna (plus size OFC)

Fanfiction 18+

Javier Pena Masterlist / Main Masterlist / A03 link

Word Count: approx 3.2k

Warnings: Chucho is his own warning (we kinda see where Javi gets it from), food (besides the pickles - this is me people), father/son time, overuse of pickles, angst, cursing, fluff

Summary: Javier Peña had something that he wanted to discuss with Luna. His father’s been mentioning it every chance he gets. Chucho sings of the wonders he has found with his jar of gherkins.

Notes: I actually had a difficult time coming up with an idea for this fic because I haven’t written much for Javi P. I enjoyed giving him a bit of comedy because my other fics with him were angsty. Hopefully I can write some more fics for him this year. 😎 I dabbled in Canva for the graphic and the banner. 💚

Luna knew several things:

Her coworker Anna needed to come back to work to pick up her part of this project.

Her boyfriend’s father was the cutest old man who seemed to call every woman at the clinic he went to “Bonita (pretty)” and reserved “Hermosa (gorgeous)” for the older receptionist, Maria, who she may or may not have seen at his house when she dropped off food to him on occasion.

She wasn’t sure if she should tell her boyfriend about this, but she did encourage Chucho to talk to his son about it.

She’s been with her boyfriend for two years and she’s very happy with that. She doesn’t want anything to change. It’s the happiest she’s been in years.

Chucho sat on the couch, patting his thigh. He’d just come in from brushing the horses when he heard a truck pull up. It belonged to his only child Javier. He was happy to see him, they agreed to have lunch twice a week now he was home from Columbia and retired from the DEA. There were many things said about his son, some of which he’d heard from a few of his lady friends. They said that he was a coward for running away from his then fiance at the time, all the way to Columbia. They also said that his son had quite a way with women, not unlike Chucho did back before he met his dear late wife. He took all these with a grain of salt, especially when he finally returned to the United States.

He worried for his son, who he thought may remain unmoored while back in Loredo. It turns out, it was for naught as Javier worked with the sheriff’s department. He had responded to a sighting of a fugitive which didn’t pan out, it was an overeager young cop who thought they saw someone on the most wanted list but it was really old man Loggins who hadn’t been by the barbershop in two months due to a fishing trip and not wanting to leave his house.

As Javier walked up the steps to his father’s porch, he carried some lasagna that he was handed in town to deliver to his father from one of Chucho’s lady friends Ms. Lucia. It reminded him of when he met Luna, his girlfriend, she had been eating the same meal that day.

Two years prior…

It was a blistering hot day in Loredo, temperatures were over one-hundred degrees in the direct sun and even in the shade, they hovered around ninety-five degrees. Despite Javier forgoing his tan jacket to match the tan pants and shirt that went with his uniform, he still had large wet spots under his arms and around his neck. He stopped in Ms. Lucia’s restaurant hoping she’d take pity on him and not charge him for some iced tea. He wouldn’t be getting any whiskey until after he was off duty. His drinking had significantly cut down due to his hours, but his smoking not so much. Thankfully, Ms. Lucia gave him the water and iced tea in exchange for saying hello to his father for her. His father was popular with the older women despite spending most of his time on his range with the animals. The restaurant was fairly full for the lunchtime crowd and there weren’t really any open seats, Ms. Lucia walked Peña over to a table and sat him down across from a woman in a baby blue sundress.

He saw a woman who had a sheen to her skin from the heat despite the air conditioning. It was likely from the number of people in the restaurant, talking, eating, laughing and the like. She had a head full of hair and a mouth full of pasta when she looked up after hearing something across the table he assumed and covered her mouth as she was confronted with a grinning Javier sipping some cold ice water, feeling a few drops dribble down his chin and chest. It felt refreshing in this sweltering heat. The woman swallowed her food, her wide eyes trying to figure out who he was. He didn’t recognize her so she might be a transplant, just moved back or someone who came after he left. She cleared her throat and sipped some of her own water that some of the ice had melted clearly.

“Sorry about that. I didn't expect Ms. Lucia would sit someone at my table. I thought she’d give me a warning at least.” She smiled softly, clearly a little embarrassed but he found it endearing that and the small splotch of tomato sauce that was on the corner of her mouth. Peña grabbed a paper napkin from the dispenser in the middle of the table and tapped her cheek, wiping inward toward where the sauce was. He surprised himself by the action, he’d meant to hand it to her and point it out, but his hand moved on its own. What surprised him more is that she didn’t move, she just let him wipe her cheek, closing her eyes for a moment until he pulled back.

“Did you get it all?”

“Yes I did. Are you typically a messy eater?”

A soft chuckle rolled from Javier as he sat back, setting the napkin on the table. The woman folded her hands and sat a bit straighter, exposing that her sundress was form fitting on the top, hugging her chest, while it looked like the bottom flowed out from under her bust, it had short sleeves that stopped short of her elbows and were similarly stained as his shirt was.

“I can be at times. The lasagna here is delicious. Thanks for wiping that for me.” He saw her move a non-existent piece of hair behind her ear, probably a nervous habit. “I haven’t seen you here before? Do you know Ms. Lucia?” She asked, drawing him back from watching her movements.

“Yes, I knew her from when I was little and she’s aquanitted with my father.” A sentence Javier never imagined saying, he’d found that he’s said it a times about several women his father knew. He found himself wondering if this is how people thought of him, in Columbia and when he was last in Loredo. Her brows furrowed, did she know his father too? Normally Chucho went for age appropriate women, this would be a first that his father had a lady friend in his age group.

“Is your father Mr. Chucho? I see him sometimes at the market a few times a month. I remember him because he always had his large white hat on and a big smile. You guys have the same mustache.” A loud giggle made her body bounce. Javier shook his head and smiled, but was still unsure if he liked being compared to his father or not.

He nodded adding, “I don’t know about the mustache though. Mine still has color.” Pena flashed a toothy smile as he watched her face soften after her laugh. “What’s your name cariño (dear)?” Javier took a few more swallows of his water before setting the empty glass down, licking the last of the water off his lips. He watched as she tilted her head, grinning.

“You haven’t told me yours yet you know, but because I’m nice and you did see me with a mouthful of pasta, I will answer. My name’s Luna, Luna Stevens. Given who your father is, I assume your last name is Peña?” She quipped and his eyebrow raised, she was a smart one, he liked that. He reached across the table again and held her hand.

“My name is Javier Peña. You come here often, Mrs. Stevens?” He asked, eliciting another laugh with his cheesy joke. She squeezed his hand when she answered.

“I do and it’s Ms. Stevens. Never been married, no children. You?”

“Almost was once, but never did. No children either.”

After establishing some very basic facts about each other, it took about an hour before Peña’s partner came looking for him and said they had to head back to the office. Javier frowned but duty called. He stood and so did Luna, she walked him to the door, stating that she also had to get back to work, she’d been gone for too long. Thankfully, it wasn’t so busy today so she’d be able to catch up. Before Peña could ask, she told him that it could be made up to her with a date and handed him her phone number and name on a napkin. She told him to keep it safe and Javier did. He stuck it in his front chest pocket so no sweat would get on it and called the number that night. They ended up talking for a few more hours and set up a date later that week.

Back on Chucho’s porch…

“Hey old man! I’m here. You alright in there?” Javier walked into his father’s home, heading to the kitchen first to put the dish in the fridge and then went to the living room. He watched as his father had his hand in a jar of pickles, removing one and gave it a loud crunch.

“Hey hijo (son)! In here!” Chucho waved with his free hand and continued to chew the pickle before swallowing it and washing it down with some whiskey.

“You can’t be drinking that. It’s the middle of the day and didn’t the doctor tell you to back off a bit?” Javier chides him and takes the glass, downing the remainder of it. Chucho frowns.

“I’m an old man. Leave me be. It cleans out the pipes. Plus the pickles will wash it out too. Want one?” He offered and Javier declined, going back into the kitchen and pouring two glasses of water. He set one next to his father and sat in the chair across from him.

“This is your lunch, these pickles? I bought lasagna from Ms. Lucia, now you’re not gonna eat it.”

“I’ll still have room for the food. Don’t worry hijo. Plus I need to eat just a few more just to be ready for tonight. You should consider some of these. Maybe then I’ll see you married with children before I meet your mother again.” Chucho finished his current pickle and started another one pointing it at his son, “I know you’ll tell me no. But don’t tell me you haven’t thought about moving Luna into your house and making an honest woman out of her. Neither of you are spring chickens and these pickles have been better than those little blue pills they show on TV. Now I have two things I want from you hijo for the upcoming year: the first is to at least ask Luna to move in with you and second, is to Maria on a small road trip.”

Javier slumps back in the chair and covers his face, he is not having this conversation with father and he cannot take this seriously while he is eating pickles.

“Pop, I’m gonna go. You enjoy your pickles and I’ll be back later this week when you don’t have your hand in that jar, okay?” He stood up and left, sitting in his truck for a bit before driving back home. Luna was supposed to be stopping by tonight for dinner and a movie so he was going to straighten up the house and make some tamales and rice.

He would like to talk about what they’re future was going to look like. Had he still been in Columbia he’d be fine with having a life separate from the woman he was seeing. That was actually necessary both there and when dealing with the Cali cartel. Now he’s at peace, sort of, he was out of the DEA and now just keeping track of weird shit that happened with cows, horses and highways. It was boring, but a good boring that he welcomed along with something he never thought he’d have, a steady girlfriend and at this point, he felt she was a partner. Not in the same way Steve had been but someone who he could rely on, like when he got sick with whatever flu that was, she took a few days off to stay with him and take care of him. Maybe he pouted a little extra and got her to feed him a bit but he was sick and not feeling well and why can’t he be babied a little? Point is, Luna did it with only minimal teasing and even gave him a back massage too.

Luna arrived at Javier's house at seven on the dot. He promised her dinner, a movie and knowing her Javi, they may make it to the bedroom or not. She brought some wine and chocolate cake that she had made the day before when she’d gotten home earlier. Javier wasn’t really one for sweets, but she could convince him of some red wine and cake after dinner. She knocked on the door and heard him yell that he was coming. Javier wore a light blue polo shirt with a pair of dark wash jeans. He didn’t have any socks on and she frowned, he’d just gotten over a cold not too long ago.

“Javier, where are your socks?” Luna asked as he took both bags that she had been carrying, while she held onto her purse. She was wearing a purple sundress that had a deep V in the front and was complemented by her red lipstick and black ballet flats. Luna reached in her purse and pulled out a small bag when she had a small pair of slippers. She made a point to put them on in the foyer so Javier would see.

“Bebita (baby girl) relax. I’ll go put something on my feet in a few. Let me take the wine and dessert out, then I’ll go set your overnight bag in the room.” He gave her a small kiss on her cheek, followed by one on her neck, purposely rubbing his mustache against her skin. That earned him a giggle from her and removed her frown. She entered the kitchen and removed the cake, wine and a gift she had gotten from Chucho earlier in the week. The elder had told her that his son loves them so she figured she would bring them over and Javi would eat them later. They don’t quite go with the tamales they were going to eat tonight.

Javier returned to the kitchen and saw an abomination of his counter, Luna was dishing up their plates and turned to her boyfriend confused by the look of anger on his face. “Javi? Javier? What’s wrong? I normally dish up the plates.” Shaking his head, he stomped over and picked up the jar, shaking it.

“This! These damn things! Why are they here? Did you bring them?” Peña screamed and Luna was taken aback, never in their two years together had this happened. Sure she’s seen him pissed but never yelling. Setting down the plates, she crossed her arms and tilted her head.

“Javier Peña. Why are you yelling at me right now? Are you really yelling at me about pickles?” She questioned, confused as to why pickles of all things would set him off.

For the last few weeks, Chucho has been preaching to Javier about the merits and blessing of pickles both for health and in the bedroom. He needed no help in either place he assured him, but then he would talk about marriage and for Javi not be scared of it. It’s a good thing, obviously Luna is not Lorraine. She’s not trying to trick you into anything. Hell, he’d never heard the woman say the words marriage, bride, wedding or engagement. On the same token, because it’s never been talked about, it also felt like he could never bring it up.

“I just need these out of my house Luna. I can’t look at them.” He set the jar down as they both looked at it. “Lo siento mi amor (I’m sorry my love). My father keeps talking about what his magical pickles can do for him and mar-marinating them.” Javier embraced Luna and she wrapped her arms around his back, she took a step back to look at him.

“Your father only marriantes meat Javier. What else does Chucho speak to you about? What aren’t you telling me Javi?” She asked, knowing him well enough that when he sucks on his bottom lip like that, he’s holding back something. Javier sighed and released her, starting to pace with his hands behind his head.

“You stand there and accuse me, but where were you at the time?” He fired back.

“That makes no sense, you have lunch with your father twice a week, while I’m at work. How would I be-”

“I mean after work, before work and on weekends. You’re not here. You’re at your apartment and he might not keep bugging me about marriage and kids if you were here with me in my house. We’re going to go into another year without talking about it.” Javier has let it all out, though angrily instead of calm and over dinner like he planned. Fucking pickles. He snuck a glance at them before looking back at a bewildered Luna.

“So, your father, bugging you about getting married and having children, is my fault because I haven’t moved in with you? Javier, I am a woman in her late thirties living in Texas! You don’t think I hear that weekly and sometimes daily, especially this time of year!” Luna yelled back, Javier took a few steps to the left, placing the kitchen island between him and his girlfriend. She pressed her palms into the island and exhaled. “What do you want Javi? Do you want to marry me? Do you even want children? We’ve never talked about this. I’d been nervous to bring it up because I don’t really care either way.” Luna’s voice softened, “I’m just happy to be with you Javier. Do we need to do all those other things?”

Peña cleared his throat and walked over to Luna, kissing her forehead and took her hands in his, “Mi amor, I’m so sorry. I love you too and I don’t need anything else. Never really thought about having them to be honest. I do know I would like to wake up to you without seeing that damn overnight bag in the corner of the bedroom.” The pair raised their hands together and laughed again, making their way back over to the food, dishing it up and sitting down at the table. After finishing dinner, they popped open the wine and cut up a few slices of cake. Luna brought over the jar of pickles to watch ‘The Last Seduction’ Javier squinted his eyes at the jar as she set it on the coffee table.

“I figured since it made us have a serious conversation, sort of. The pickles could join. Maybe there’s something to what Chucho says.” Luna chuckled as she curls up in Javi’s arms and he leans his head back on the couch.

“You, my father and these damn pickles. As soon as you doze off during this movie, I’m tossing them. Don’t accept any more pickles from Pop. he needs to keep them over on his ranch.” Taking a sip of the wine, Javier started the move and kissed Luna’s shoulder.

He cut his eyes at the pickles again - fucking magic pickles. Javier would never tell his father that the old man may have been onto something.

Admirers of Javier’s pouty lips 👄 :

@fhatbhabie @morallyinept @pedritapascal @pascalsanctuary @nissaimmortal @grogusmum @tinytinymenace @beefrobeefcal @goodwithcheese @megamindsecretlair @movievillainess721 @pedrodascal @theywhowriteandknowthings @trulybetty @perotovar @joelslegalwhre @josephquinnswhore @mandoisapunk @secretelephanttattoo @for-a-longlongtime @legendary-pink-dot @sin-djarin @maggiemayhemnj @seratuyo @sp00kymulderr @intoanotherworld23 @linzels-blog @joelmillers-whore @guelyury @laurfilijames @missladym1981 @pamasaur @alltheglitterandtheroar @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @rhoorl @yorksgirl @maggiemayhemnj @saturn-rings-writes @gwendibleywrites @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @undercoverpena @musings-of-a-rose @soft-persephone @katw474 @javierpena-inatacvest @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @magpiepills @handspunyarns @i-own-loki @papipascaaaal

[littlebitsmile]

in flames [C.L.] | Chapter V

This is it, finally. With this chapter, we kick off the 2024 season and Emma takes part in her first official F1 race in Bahrain. I'm really excited about going forward with this, hopefully you are too.

Enjoy this chapter, breathe it in, feel it in your heart xx

story: in flames driver: Charles Leclerc [C.L.] trope: #haterstolovers summary: Always working three times as hard as everyone else, Emma does not intend to blow her chance of driving among the best of the best in her very first season in Formula 1. Concentrating on first and foremost getting ahead of her brother, she does not even notice that there are some people even in her own team who think she does not deserve this spot and would rather see her fail. And one driver in particular seems to have a need of always reminding her of that.

────ʚ C H A P T E R V ɞ────

"How exactly does this work here?" I ask, while two screens of light shine directly into my face and three or four cameras are pointed at me. A makeup artist is just powdering the last of the anxious sweat on my forehead dry, and a young man is sitting opposite me with a script in his hand. Probably the same one that was sent to me two weeks ago.

"You introduce yourself with your name, which team you drive for, and then I'll ask you a few questions. Easy cheesy lemon squeezy," he replies without looking up from his script.

I can't deny that I'm afraid of messing something up. I still regularly attend the social media training sessions run by Aston Martin's PR department, but Netflix's Drive to Survive team is probably in a whole different league. At least most of the drivers have already warned me about it.

Someone shouts "30 seconds," and suddenly the room empties. The lights are still blinding, and apart from the camera lenses and three-quarters of the interviewer's face, I can't really see much. Just a dark room, almost as if I were the suspect in a murder case and was being questioned - creepy.

I'm handed a film flap with my name, my team, and "Take 1" written on it. I hold it up in front of me and wait for the interviewer's hand signal.

"Hi!" I wave at the camera. "My name is Emma Verstappen, I'm turning 21 this year, and I'm driving for Aston Martin as a rookie in my first Formula 1 season."

"Cut!" A little bit of shuffling around echoes through the room. "That's great, Emma. You're doing good!"

"Thanks, I'm trying my best. Do you need that again or...?" My voice goes up half an octave towards the end of the sentence, unintentionally.

"Ah, no, thanks! But you can answer a question for me directly! How does it feel to sit in this chair?"

"Honestly, like I've been accused." I laugh nervously into the camera. A montage of the last six seasons of the show plays in my mind's eye - almost as if my brain is warning me not to say the wrong thing or get emotional.

"Don't worry, the jury found not guilty. For now, at least." A brief pause as he flicks through his question pad and finally stops at a page. "Emma, when you think about the coming year, what do you feel?"

"You're not the first to ask me that, what do you think my answer will be?" I raise my eyebrows. After his interview, Max gave me the advice to be as detached as possible. Don't stir up drama. Don't take shots at other drivers. Then I take two breaths and continue: "This is a huge year, not only for me, but also for my team. Aston Martin has made a huge bet by putting me in one of their cockpits. But I have no intention of making them regret it."

"Completely understandable! Do you feel comfortable in your team? It was actually very surprising that you didn't end up with your brother's team, Oracle Red Bull Racing! Would you like to tell us briefly how that came about?"

"Well, you probably all know Max, and you don't know me, but let me tell you, even though I love him and he's my brother... we would need some more time to get acquainted with the feeling of being stuck in a team together. Our mom could tell you that as well - everywhere Max and I are involved, there is trouble to follow." I answer honestly. What I don't say is that Max didn't speak to me for a week and a half after I turned down Red Bull's offer to be a test driver for this season. That I had to explain to him almost every hour why the match with Fernando Alonso works better for me at the moment and that later, after I've proven myself, we can drive together until we're old and gray.

"Emma? Are you still there?" The interviewer waves his hand vigorously in front of my face. I apologize and ask him to repeat the question.

"As you know, some contracts are coming to an end this year, and that's why there are a few places with big teams that have been in high demand for years. With Lewis moving from Mercedes to Ferrari and some contracts expiring, for example, Sergio Perez at Red Bull - are you speculating on one of them?"

I have to think for a moment, do some soul-searching. Do I even want to join a big team? Is "Formula 1 World Champion" at the top of my list of dreams? Then I answer: "As a driver, every week you're fighting for your seat, especially this season. It's no longer about where I stand in the world rankings, but rather about the potential I bring with me. I am convinced that I will find my way - regardless of my brother, Red Bull, or anyone else. Where this path will ultimately take me... I don't think anyone really knows."

-

"Two more laps, Emma," Sarah orders over the team radio. She still doesn't speak much, but at least the radio communication works well. Will I ever have as much fun with her as I did with Enzo? Probably not.

"Copy."

I say copy, but what I really mean is I hate you. Forty-five laps under the desert sun of Bahrain, drops of sweat evaporating in my racesuit and making the fabric stick to my skin. I've been trying to suppress my thirst for half an eternity. At least the heat is now my only problem. During the first few test laps, I had to mentally remind myself several times that throwing up in a new car doesn't make a good impression - especially not on the official first day of work. That moment when you're standing at the end of the pit lane waiting to get the final go. In the first corners while hitting the brakes for the first time, my head got put back against the headrest, body compressed. It felt like my heart was going to give up at any moment.

Pre-season testing is the first chance to see if what my team spent the whole year designing is actually going to work. So far, the car feels great - a few comments here and there about oversteer, the right braking behavior, and the optimal line, but at least I'm not a total failure. At least, I hope I'm not.

Fernando has already completed laps in the three-digit range yesterday and this morning combined. I happen to be put in the same test window as Max. I didn't think long about whether this was perhaps intentional, so that we could compare ourselves better, but after the first few laps, the thought crept into my head and wouldn't let go.

As I return to the pit lane faster than expected and the engineering team pushes the car and me back into the garage, I realize that I'm still holding my breath. I take off the steering wheel, release the headrest, and squeeze out of the tight seat. A few mechanics murmur "Good job!" or pat me on the back, but no one says a word. I exhale. Then I look at the car again. Standing right in front of it while the green of the bodywork hits me - an indescribable feeling.

"You know I'm your biggest critic, but that was a good performance today. We can work with that," says Sarah as she comes to a halt next to me and compares graphs on her clipboard. She looks at me from the side, then glances at the car and back at me. "This is your car, you better believe it."

I laugh and nod. "Thank you, Sarah. I don't think that was such a bad practice. There's still plenty to do." As I start to speak, I take off my helmet, finally remove the hearing protection from my other ear, and walk towards my cabin in the back of the garage. Sarah is hot on my heels. "I feel like I have to turn the steering wheel a bit more on the right-hand bends... but maybe it's just because the right-hand bends are a bit faster than I originally thought. I don't feel the headwind as much as I did in the wind tunnel, you can really feel the aerodynamic adjustments on the sides straight away. Do you think I can do one or two laps, just running around the track tomorrow before the start of training? I feel like I don't have every corner completely under control yet and..."

"Emma," Sarah tries to interrupt me, but I keep talking. Unlike me, she is at a loss for words and never let me finish my thoughts during our first few weeks. But this is about our car, about the points, about moving forward and not standing still. I carry on talking impartially.

"...maybe I can have a quick word with Fernando tomorrow? I'd like the front end to be a little sharper, at the moment we still have a lot of leeway - only if it's okay with him."

"Emma."

"Hm?" Now I'm paying attention.

"You're in fifth place at the moment."

"Wow, I didn't think so. That's good news, isn't it?"

"Max is in P6," she says slowly, smiles and then leaves me standing alone in the corridor. My water bottle almost falls out of my hand. I turn around quickly and call after her.

"Hey! You can't just say something like that and then disappear," but she's already around the corner and isn't paying any more attention to me. Has she just smiled for the first time since I met her? And that makes me almost more nervous than the fact that I have beaten my brother for the first time.

-

I'm not that lucky over the next few days of pre-season testing. But the high from my first day of practice on the track carries me through the week like clouds, before we even get to the first three free practices. I stay in the top 10 during the practice sessions that are part of the race weekend, but I seem to have completely lost my groove in qualifying. Starting from 12th on the grid, neither I nor my team are particularly enthusiastic about my performance, and this contributes to the fact that I don't get much sleep the night before the actual race.

I also have to attend several photo shoots in between - not just from my own team but also the official ones. For the first time, I get placed in an all-male field of riders, which is why I am allowed to stand in the middle of the so-called "class of 2024"-picture this year. That is more than awkward for me, but in that respect I will probably have to get used to not being allowed to have a say. On this occasion, I also try to spend more time with my brother, firstly to get some first hand insider advice and secondly to get to know the people he gets on well with.

Carlos Sainz, who tried to persuade me at all costs to go and celebrate with the group before my first race - as a season opener – immediately melts my heart. When I thankfully declined, he laughed and told me not to worry so much - after all, the Verstappen gene is in me too. I didn't mention that I wasn't so sure about that. At the same time, I wish him all the luck in the world - after all, he is currently without a seat for 2025. Secretly, I hope that he achieves better results than Charles, but of course I'm not allowed to say that out loud.

I also have time for a game of paddle tennis with Max, Fernando, Lando Norris, and Daniel Ricciardo - none of them seem to care that I've never held a tennis racket in my life, let alone a paddle tennis racket. On the contrary, each of them patiently explains their way of playing to me, until at some point I'm sure that each of them has at least slipped me some false information so that I don't turn out to be a sudden natural talent.

Unfortunately, all these distractions have not helped to reduce the pressure. The pressure from my father, who follows every Instagram post with excitement and then asks me whether I can really afford to play paddle tennis with Max and whether he missed the fact that I already have a World Drivers' Champions title in my pocket, which would explain why I would think that some free time is something I am allowed to have. The pressure from my team, whose hopes are mainly pinned on Fernando, but a driver duo consists of two people and not everyone is convinced that this is the right place for me. So I continue to sleep uneasily.

-

Before the race starts, I march up and down in the garage with a pulse of just under 130. Outside, I see fans running past, taking their seats, while the structure of the course burns in a continuous loop in my mind. It feels like I remind myself every five minutes that I shouldn't pick at my fingernails and instead find my focus. Max wished me good luck as I left the hotel, and he meant it, but that's easy to say when you start from pole position and have literally nothing to loose.

I overhear Sarah being interviewed somewhere, but unfortunately, I can't quite make out who it is from the voice. The walls here are so thin that I can hear every little movement of the technicians on the car, so I'm not surprised that I overhear conversations that aren't really meant for my ears. Only the interviewer's question burns itself into my head: Do you think you put too much faith in someone who is still so young?

I immediately shake my head, grab my helmet and water bottle, and make my way to my car. There I high-five one or two mechanics and then squeeze into the seat of my car. The cable for the radio connection on my left shoulder is connected to the car, someone plugs in my steering wheel, and the crew slowly removes the heaters from the tires. I wrap my fingers around the steering wheel, squeeze harder, and then let go again. Sitting here feels right, just like the pedals under the soles of my feet and the muffled sounds that can’t quite reach my ears. I try to find my focus and go over the route again in my head. Too much faith in someone who is still so young. The colleague in front of my car gives me the signal to rev the engine and drive out of the garage. Then I'm pushed to the starting grid.

The next few minutes fly by. The impressions of the last few days, the ups and downs, the conversations with other drivers, but also the phone calls with my father and his criticism - everything is buzzing around in my head without having an outlet for it. My body is tense at every turn and I'm literally clutching the piece of metal between my hands. I keep counting to ten in my head and tell myself that everything will be fine, no matter where I end up today - at least that's what I try to tell myself.

The signal is given for the last call to leave the start area. I get some last looks before my team makes its way towards the pit lane.

"Let's go, Emma," says Sarah through the microphone. I nod, even though I'm aware that she can't see me. My brain empties completely during the warm-up lap. Quicker than I'd like, I'm back in my starting position and looking towards the traffic lights. I feel nothing, think nothing. This is the first race of the season and nothing has been won or lost yet. All the cards have been reshuffled and we can only really say how the cars will actually perform afterward. The first lights turn red. Red. Red. Red. Red. And then the lights go out, and my foot presses down on the gas pedal. This is the official start of the 2024 season.

────ʚ [Masterlist] [Chapter IV] [Chapter VI (in progress)] ɞ────

Tags: @cmleitora @alliwantisadonut

[alex51324]

A sensitive topic, but useful information

If you have a uterus, etc., and are dysphoric enough about it that you don't go to the gyno, here's a thing I learned this week that may come in handy one day, if you start having pain or other symptoms from that department:

There's a way you can at least get started on having all those organs checked out, without taking your pants off.

It's called a transabdominal pelvic ultrasound--you lay down, fully clothed, and just pull up your shirt as far as your ribcage, and undo your fly and push your trousers/underwear down to your hipbones. (And if you still feel too exposed, you can get a drape for the parts of your abdomen they aren't working on at any given moment.)

The technician goes over you with the little wand-thing (like you see on TV when pregnant people are getting a scan of the fetus); it takes a while, but it doesn't feel like much of anything.

Note: It's common, if you possess the relevant anatomy, for them to do what's called a transvaginal pelvic ultrasound along with the transabdominal one--that does indeed involve taking your pants off (and worse). It gives a better view of the ovaries, apparently, and it can be more convenient for them to go ahead and do that at the same appointment. But both my doctor and the technician who did the test were completely understanding and familiar with the concept that someone might not be up for that. All I had to do was hint to my doctor that I wasn't comfortable with the internal, and she said that was fine, we'd just do the transabdominal scan, and if that didn't provide enough information we'd talk about options based on whatever the findings were.

(The person at the central scheduling hotline, on the other hand, was kind of confused and kept trying to schedule me for the other thing, but honestly, I got the impression she was either very new to the job or just not the sharpest crayon in the box, bless her heart. Once I got in the room with the technician, she immediately grasped the situation and everything was fine.)

So it was all very easy and nontraumatic, and I probably should have had it done ages ago*. If you possess those organs, and are having pain or other symptoms in them that you've been hesitating to bring up** to a doctor because you're not comfortable having an internal exam, there are options available--hopefully your doctor will suggest it right off the bat, like mine did, but if not you can ask for it by name: transabdominal pelvic ultrasound.

(*I've got ovarian cysts, which is common and usually not a big deal, but if I'm reading the report correctly, mine are really quite surprisingly large. I haven't actually talked to the doctor about the results yet; with the holiday weekend it'll probably be Tuesday before I hear back.)

(**I didn't bring up the subject; the doctor felt something when she was palpating my abdomen during a routine physical, because of how fucking huge this cyst is. I should have brought it up.)

[pagetsgirl]

relapse

TW !! self-harm, mental breakdowns, panic attacks

summary: reader has a triggering case in her hometown, which results in her (i think i don’t use any pronouns but if i do it’s she/her) relapsing, and emily helps her clean up and they snuggle, basically.

a/n: idk if this is bad, but i wrote it at midnight, in the middle of a mental breakdown and instead of relapsing!

pairing: emily prentiss x f?reader

read on ao3 or below the cut

A case in your hometown was shitty enough, but one of the victims being someone you knew from high school did not make it much better. She might’ve bullied you and dated your girlfriend while you were dating here, but it still felt weird.

The UNSUB was kidnapping blonde females in their mid to end 20s. He would kill them approximately 3 days after abducting them. He’d use many torture methods, such as burning, waterboarding and electrocuting them. When he was finally done with that, he’d rape them and stab them through their hearts. He didn’t take time to cool down nor did he show any form of remorse.

This has been going on for weeks, leaving behind 5 dead victims and 1 missing woman. The issue is that we were called in after the last body has been found, and the police department was extremely distrusting, always looking over our shoulders, making it impossible for us to do our job.

But luckily for us, we got a pretty good profile just a day in. He was white, around he same age as the victims, and he had severe anger issues, which he’d show in his daily job and personal live. He probably worked from home, and lived quite far away from people, so he could torture them without needing to worry about their screaming. He probably had a steady income and was of high intelligence. We just weren’t sure how he lured his victims.

So we (mostly JJ) had a press conference and spread the profile. And quickly the tip lines were flooded with ‘tips’. Only one really stood out, and we had Garcia check it out. She quickly found the guy and he fitted the profile to a T. His name was Robin Wilson, he worked and lived on his farm and had a wealthy background.

---

The drive to the ranch was long, and everyone was filled with the usual nerves and adrenaline. Since he was extremely unreliable. We didn’t know if he’d go into flight or fight mode. But hopefully for Mary, the last woman he had kidnapped, he would go into flight mod, or she could very well end up dead.

As we finally reached the ranch, we spotted his old pick-up. Our bodies were buzzing with anticipation, as we quickly pulled on our bulletproof vests.

“l/n, you and Morgan go left, and me and Emily will go right, the others wait for back-up,” Hotch said.

As Morgan and I walked through the empty hallway, we heard a gut wrenching scream from the basement, which had an entrance just in front of us.

We sprinted into the basement, raising up our guns as we tried not to fall down the steep steps. Derek kicked down the door, leading into a small room.

“Tyler?!” I said shocked, as I slightly lowered my gun. Tyler was my childhood best friend. One of my favourite people, a long time he was the only person I could trust. But here he was, with his knife to a poor woman’s throat.

“ah, its Robin now,” he smiled sickly. “Missed me?”

“Ty- Robin, please don’t do this, I don’t want to shoot you.” My voice was soft, not higher than a begging whisper.

“oh? And you think I care? My entire life has been miserable, so why not make someone else’s miserably as well?” He pressed the knife closer to her throat, until he suddenly drew a smile-like line across her neck. Her neck lulled forward, and. Before Morgan could even think about pulling the trigger, I already did. It was a clean shot, right in the middle of his big forehead where I would always tease him about.

Derek ran towards him and kicked the knife away from his dead hands. I stood there, frozen in utter shock.

Time stood still as I stayed there, I didn’t notice the rest of the team barging in.

I killed him.

The first person that ever cared about me.

He’s dead, because of me.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. I knew it was Emily, it was always Emily. She whispered something in my ear, but I didn’t register the words. Her hand moved down and reached mine, giving it a soft squeeze before gently leading me back to the SUV’s. She never left my side, not once losing physical contact.

She knew that that was what I needed. The touch helped me ground myself, it took me out of my own mind, and helped me stay with her, something I desperately needed right now.

She got Hotch to drive us back to the hotel. I sat there frozen, just staring out of the window, as Emily tightly held my hand, mindlessly drawing shapes onto it., trying to calm me down, which didn’t seem to be working.

The moment we got to the hotel room, I made my way to the bathroom and locked myself in. I slide down one of the walls, pressing my knees up to my chest.

Hot tears streamed down my face, my hands started shaking and my breathing picked up. I lost complete control over my body and my surroundings.

I haven’t had a panic attack in years. So naturally my brain looked for the only thing it knew would help; cutting. I opened up my phone case, revealing a silver razorblade. I rolled up my sleeve. I was clean for 2 years now. But that’ll all be thrown out the window soon enough.

I attempted to take a deep breath and the blade made a clean cut through the soft skin of my wrist. The pain that followed taking away the pain that I felt inside.

Two cuts,

Three cuts,

Four,

Five,

The blood ran down my arms and drippled onto the bathroom tiles.

I was so lost in the moment, that I didn’t notice the door open. “Bab-“ I looked up. “fuck, no, no, no,” Emily ran towards me and squatted down. She softly grabbed onto the blade and took it away from my arm. “oh, my sweet baby girl,” She mumbled, more to herself than to me. She softly grabbed onto my arm. “let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” I shook my head weakly, attempting to take my arm back. “Let’s just sit here then, yeah, just us two,” She came closer to me and softly wrapped her arms about my frame.

I immediately buried my head into her shoulder and my tears came flooding again.

We sat there for who knows how long, only standing up after Emily insisted. She gently wrapped up my arm, making sure to not wrap it too tight. The pro about being an fbi agent is that we always had med kits with us for when we got slightly injured in the field.

We laid in bed, all wrapped up in each other. “Are you mad at me, cause I’m sorry,” I mumbled, it was the first thing that came out my mouth apart from sobs and gasps for breath. “Of course I’m not mad at you baby, and you really don’t have to apologize, okay?” She looked down at me. “I will help you okay, whenever you need something. I will always be there for you, no matter what.”

[earthstellar]

More Thoughts on Prowl in Earthspark

I think it would be fun if Prowl has a little bit of a tough time integrating with the Terran Team, which I talked about previously in another post

Like, if it starts out rough, understandable-- And then the "lesson" for the intended audience (kids) can be something along the lines of learning how to get along with others that may be different from yourself, how to integrate into a different culture by trying to make friends and being open to learning, how to meet people halfway when you might be personally hesitant, etc.

But I have some more thoughts...

Real World Concerns: ACAB Still Applies

Keeping in mind that Prowl's a cop and there are some real world implications of that which are even more highlighted as the Maltos are a non-white family who live in the USA, I can understand the concerns I've seen some people have about bringing a "tough cop" type of character into a show that has heavy emphasis on diversity and reflecting that diversity fairly realistically.

I've been wrongfully detained back when I was a teenager and was taken across a state border then had to sleep in a cell overnight thanks to the NYPD myself as a trans person, which happened only four weeks after my black partner at the time was harassed by a police officer when a cop straight up just walked into my dad's house with no warrant because apparently a black person and a trans person gardening together is "suspicious behaviour".

My dad's house is in Pennsylvania, which is where Earthspark takes place. Me and my loved ones have been harassed by cops that are quite literally the actual cops you'd see in Earthspark, in Witwicky. Same police department/region in Pennsylvania, given their proximity to actual Pennsylvanian locations in the show.

So I know these fears well and I understand-- Nobody has a good experience with the American police. Every interaction is terrifying, and those of us in any minority group are far more likely to have experiences like this having never committed any crime or wrongdoing at all. Seeing any cop, even a fictional one, can trigger some bad memories or prior trauma for a lot of us, and it might be hard for them to work around.

I'm thinking that's part of why they've changed his alt-mode, from what we can tell from the toy photos.

Earthspark Handles Real World Issues Fairly Well: Writing with Sensitivity

At the same time, the themes of the show are fundamentally family, friends, learning, growing, and teamwork, with some emphasis on developing emotional intelligence and social/cultural awareness.

It's important to remember that Prowl is a Cybertronian cop who took a cop car alt-mode back in the G1 days because it was simply what fit his own role best and made for the most effective cover while on Earth-- He may not be working with local human police forces, but if he is, we'll see how the show handles that.

I think it's notable that they've changed up Prowl's alt-mode design here, despite having shown him in his police vehicle alt-mode in the G1 flashback sequence. You don't see "POLICE" written across his doorwings, these days. They're not selling him as a "cop car toy" anymore, which I think most of us can agree is a good thing.

I think Prowl absolutely has a place in Earthspark, and it'll be interesting to see how they utilise his character-- For all we know, it'll be a totally unique take on the character unlike any specific prior iteration of him, which would also be interesting!

But I do think that they know they have to be careful with introducing a cop character. They've handled subjects like xenophobia in Earthspark very tactfully in a way that suits the intended audience of children, and hopefully they continue to use the same tact when interpreting Prowl's character for this same audience, given that he's a cop and there are implications to cop characters in general that are going to lead a lot of people to be a little less forgiving and a little more suspicious of him.

More Conjecture/Thinking Out Loud, Since All We Have is a Photo of a Toy At This Point

That having been said, almost no story can happen without a hero's journey in some shape or form, and it would be interesting to see Prowl have some initial difficulty dealing with the Terrans and humans in general (or something similar that might cause some level of conflict) to be resolved as time goes on.

It would be interesting if the show touches on Prowl being a cop and how American kids realistically react to that.

I was always taught to never speak to a cop and how to do so very carefully if I ever absolutely had to etc. when I was a kid, and I'm sure the Maltos have had that same conversation with their children. It's a safety issue; Unfortunately, most American kids get "the cop talk" pretty early.

Maybe Prowl shows up and Robby immediately grabs Mo to get her behind him and he tells his Terran siblings to "let him do the talking", since he's the oldest one and a little more aware of the risk that police officers can present. Since Mo is usually outgoing, and she might be more quiet here because she would understand the potential risk whenever cops are involved, the Terrans would take the hint and be wary of Prowl.

Or perhaps Prowl is introduced as an "enforcer" by Optimus, and when the kids ask what that means, Optimus translates it as "police officer", which might be what causes Robby and Mo to react a little negatively/suspiciously to Prowl. So it wouldn't be as immediate of a reaction, but once they find out he's a cop, they react appropriately-- With caution.

Which might serve to alienate him a bit, as he wouldn't understand why they were just outgoing and friendly and now they're suddenly not-- From Prowl's point of view, he might not fully understand their reaction.

If he'd been working on trying to investigate the bot fighting rings etc., then he'd be aware of the general public's xenophobia towards Cybertronians and how that can manifest as real violence, and might think the kids were being biased against him. Which might be worsened by the fact that to him, as far as he knows, they evidently don't like enforcers specifically-- Which may even lead him to overthink it, as he is technically designed to do in most continuities, and he might assume their anxiety around him comes from some kind of criminal history on their part.

This could be handled partially comedically, as the audience knows the kids are good and haven't done anything wrong (and this would also introduce Prowl's capabilities as an investigative officer while framing him as a "silly adult bewildered by kids just being kids" for the younger viewers)-- -But it needs to be treated respectfully and with reasonable seriousness as well.

This type of assumed guilt is often what leads to wrongful arrest, miscarriage of justice, and serious abuse from actual police. There is a real world body count for this exact kind of assumption, and these assumptions are often based in racism, homophobia, transphobia, etc.

And this is a kid's show, so I don't think they'll go too deep-- But I do think they'll address the "cop in the room" in some kind of way.

There could be some serious misunderstandings that go both ways, as the kids might then interpret any upset from Prowl as being inherently hostile.

It would take work to get them to trust him, and Prowl would need to come to understand why being an enforcer in this context is something that registers as a threat to the Maltos and by proxy the Terrans as well-- Who haven't had good experiences with authority figures either, given the whole GHOST situation.

And given that he might not start out too enthused about the situation altogether (we don't know how he might be coping with being forced to live on Earth), it might be interesting if they take this approach (or a similar one) to introducing Prowl.

Keeping in mind this is a show for kids, and you don't want kids to implicitly trust cops. In America especially, that's just not a safe lesson to teach.

So it would be hard for them to pull something like this off, in a way that both 1) solidifies that cops can't be safely trusted and also 2) Prowl is good not because he's a cop, but because his genuine interests are to protect and serve in his own way, and it's not just some kind of fake creed that he doesn't follow like every other cop.

But like I said, you can't teach kids that cops are good. So it'll be interesting to see how they handle his role as "enforcer".

He might be misguided sometimes, or he might need some fine-tuning, but Prowl shouldn't be directly malicious or intentionally mean to the kids. Maybe he's accidentally rude, or doesn't understand how he comes across to others (especially humans/the Terrans). Maybe he's having a hard time being on Earth, and it shows in his behaviour or demeanour.

But he can learn, and adapt as best he can over time. The show is about learning and growing with each other.

I Don't Think He'll Dislike the Kids Too Much: Teaching Time with Prowl

It'll be interesting to see how Prowl gets along with the kids, but I do think he eventually will, at least to some degree.

I don't think Prowl is a child-hater. I think he might need time to acclimate and socialise a little more effectively and understand a little more. And the kids might need the same, when it comes to Prowl.

I can't see him as being mean to them, not once he realises the Terrans are essentially sparklings and the human kids develop and grow on a totally different scale. We don't know what interactions Prowl might have with humans in general, or how experienced he is with younglings of any kind.

There might be a learning process, or Prowl might even take up helping to tutor the kids a bit-- He could help teach them investigative techniques, or logical problem solving, or how to evaluate complex situations (like calculating battle outcomes and assessing threats in the field-- a safety lesson as much as anything else). Things along those lines.

We've already seen the kids learn from various adults, so why not Prowl too?

I can see him wanting to protect them and do what he can to help them, but he might not be a super-involved parent-type, and that's totally fine.

He would likely make for a strict but effective teacher, using his skills of observation to notice when the kids need some extra assistance or would benefit from a different approach.

He might also struggle to teach at first; Maybe he attempts to treat it like an enforcer academy, which the kids might not respond well to. Bumblebee could provide some input to help Prowl adjust his approach, as he has the most experience with training them so far.

He Might Not Be a Cop at All

Maybe he's not an enforcer at all anymore, in this continuity.

Maybe he's struggling to find an identity for himself after realising the enforcement system on Cybertron was corrupt (as Megatron in Earthspark has given us some hints that the background setup to the war might be similar to IDW 1 in some regards), and after finding Earth's police are no better, he's at a loss for how to make himself useful.

He could possibly be working as a kind of private investigator, carrying out missions assigned to him by Optimus. He doesn't wear the GHOST badge, so it doesn't seem like he's been working with them somewhere this whole time.

Part of any irritation from him might be, essentially, an identity crisis. What does he do now, and how does he do it, with almost no resources and very few Cybertronians left to collaborate with? Does he even want to collaborate with anyone at all, at this point?

He might be more of a solo actor in Earthspark, off doing his own thing. With or without missions assigned from Optimus.

But he does still wear the Autobrand, which is interesting if this is the case.

More Disability Representation: Prowl is Essentially Neurodivergent With a Syncope Disorder

He might not be too good at socialising, but this shouldn't be taken as a sign of being a "mean cop"-- Prowl is canonically neurodivergent in some continuities (owing to his unique tactical/statistical processing, he is also prone to crashes), and any social problems he's depicted with are at least in part a result of his thought processes and perception of things being fundamentally different.

It would be interesting if they brought this aspect of his character back for this iteration of Prowl; Maybe he sees the Terrans for the first time and his processor struggles to understand what's going on and what they are at first, and it might trigger a crash.

Of course, the kids would react like how most kids do; Sort of panicked and worried that it's their fault somehow. Prowl could provide some situations that would be a good opportunity to teach kids a little more about disability and provide further representation for any neurodivergent kids watching the show, which would be great! And a "crash" could be comparable to anything from some types of seizures to syncope disorders to narcolepsy etc.-- Any health condition where fainting or collapse might occur.

We rarely see syncope etc. disorders portrayed in media, let alone kid shows, so it would be great to see in Earthspark as an opportunity for both inclusion for disabled audiences and education on disability for non-disabled audiences.

It would be interesting if a "crash" were portrayed somewhat realistically, no immediate recovery, maybe some dizziness, lingering fuel tank upset, maybe he even sustains some damage from falling over. It might take him a bit to fully reboot. He might regularly need to be a little more careful, to avoid processor loops or logic system issues that could lead to a crash.

Maybe he has a crash at a critical moment, and is out of commission for a battle or situation where he could have been helpful. If the kids are lukewarm towards him at this point, maybe seeing him laid out on a berth still recovering after they return from the fight would encourage them to step up and reassure him that he's not any less capable-- They would understand.

They've likely seen their mother struggle now and then on days where the phantom limb nerve pain is too much for her to go on that hike they had planned, or days where the prosthetic just isn't the vibe so she goes without and gets around the house a little differently on those days, or maybe even days where they see Dot looking at her prosthetic with a little sigh, and that's just how it is. Not every day is a feeling good day, some days the prosthetic just isn't wanted, some days the prosthetic is harder to put on than others. Disability is variable, and how people deal with disability fluctuates.

The kids would be good about understanding that Prowl has "those kind of days" too.

The show's not about Prowl-- There is an ensemble cast and plot/storylines to progress. But it would be a nice little scene if they want to do a one-off bit about this, that could also serve to show that Prowl, as hard-ass as he might come across, does actually have some vulnerabilities.

It could be the thing that encourages the kids to at least try to work with him, if they have any initial hesitancy-- Especially following their experiences with Robbie's illness previously.

If the kids might think Prowl's demeanour is a little off-putting because he's not as outwardly emotive, might be more literal than others, etc., maybe one of the other adult bots could help explain to them that Prowl's processor just works differently, and that he struggles with being social. The kids would likely be understanding of this, and it would be a nice parallel to teaching abled kids how to interact with autistic peers, while also making Prowl relatable to autistic kids watching the show.

(This would also provide a potential opportunity for a medic character to be introduced... I'm just saying. We all want Ratchet to show up, lmao.)

Earthspark is good about disability representation so far, and it would be nice to see that it's not just humans who can be disabled.

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Anyway, yes, there's a lot of potential for Prowl in Earthspark, but it will have to be handled with tact, which I think the writers have proven themselves to be pretty capable of so far.

So, we'll see! We have no information right now aside from the toy photos, but the hype is real, and it will be interesting to see how they bring Prowl into the show and what, exactly, he'll be doing.

[yakool-foolio]

If the Professor's waxwork model has been returned, hopefully we'll be able to see what it looks like! If the model was always going to be returned even without the ransom, then what was the true purpose of it being stolen, I wonder? My best guess is that it served as a distraction... WAIT GAME THEORY: WAS ASMAN THE PROFESSOR? The killer could've used the model as a nonliving body double for Asman and nobody would be able to tell the difference if they couldn't find the model.

Well, he may be headless, but he's no horseman. Damn Enoch, the stress must've really gotten to ya for your hair to turn all white. SHOLMES FEED YOUR KID JEEZ LOUISE! A thick shard of glass, hm? Like it came from, I dunno, THE CRYSTAL TOWER? My theory very well may be correct, huzzah!

Hooooly shit that's a Hellhound if I've ever heard of one. Sounds incredibly brutal, me likey the grim implications (Blank Week enthusiasts where ya at?). 'The Great Departed Soul' has a double meaning; the 'resurrection' of both Kazuma and The Professor. OH so it was the stress, forgive me Enoch for my joke I was actually /srs.

Unfortunately my friend group had to stop early for tonight cause of technical difficulties, but we're gonna try to catch up to speed tomorrow night. As compensation, have some extra miscellaneous TGAA thoughts of mine (mostly music related cause I can't help myself).

So if Klint's spirit is The Reaper, then there could be some unchecked wrath not just directed at his killer, but perhaps defendants as a whole? Thinking with ghost logic here, ghosts tend to remain on the mortal plane whenever they have unfinished business, such as when their death is unjust and their killer is still walking around a free man. So if The Professor is indeed still alive, then that would be a good reason as to why Klint's spirit seems to follow his younger brother around. The motive Klint's spirit could have in causing the deaths of the defendants prosecuted by Barok might be due to unkempt rage of his own killer still being at large, unbeknownst to most of London. He's not taking any chances at letting other potential killers go free, so he effectively curses them with a curt death so they won't harm anyone else. Klint might also not know what his killer, The Professor, looked like, so he's basically doing the ghost equivalent of firing randomly into a crowd of suspicious-looking individuals. This is all just taking the idea of a ghost causing all these deaths literally so uhhh a thick layering of salt is needed to properly ingest this take. I apologize for your high blood pressure after this.

In my escapades of assigning lawyers n prosecutors Monster Hunter themes, I've made an exception and want to give Sholmes Ruby Basarios' theme. It one of the very few consistently happy-go-lucky sounding monster themes in the whole series, which fits him being the comedic relief while also having a few off-kilter bits much like Sholmes' actual theme to showcase his roundabout way of deducting. It also features some tap dancing-esque percussion, which I love associating with the dance of deduction.

I absolutely love how Adjudication (how the track's named on Spotify is what I go off of) sounds almost like a waltz. It really evokes the feeling of the dance of death--Danse Macabre--between the lawyer and the prosecutor. It's a delicate balance of life and death any way ya look at it. One misstep could lead to your dance partner cracking their head against the floor. And we don't want anyone else to end up with a serious case of amnesia here, right?

Whisper On The Breeze by TWRP is such an Asoryu song it makes me melt. The Great Departure is all the more bittersweet to me because of it. Like hoo man these lyrics:

(To Whom It May Concern - @raymondshields)

[theygotlost]

ohhhhhh my god guys I gotta give you an update but i need to explain my entire job history for the past year first cause its a little confusing uh.

so feb-may I did this internship at this real estate digital marketing firm and I was just making social media graphics there. just instagram stories and shit. and it was boring as hell but I needed to find a job cause I was graduating, and I was hoping they would hire me but they didnt have the space for a new full time employee at the time so... that was a bust.

in june and july I was applying to jobs foreverrrrr and getting nowhere so I said fuck it i need SOMETHING to hold me over, so I started working in the print department at staples as you are all well aware. at least it would be relevant enough to put on my resume cause I do want to make print graphics right? so its something.

then like 6 weeks ago my manager from the internship reached out to me and said she wanted to take me back part time after all. so for the past month and a half I've been working 2 part time jobs, one at staples and one at this marketing office doing the exact same fuckass ig stories as before. i wont lie its been exhausting and unsustainable so I was still applying for other full time design jobs cause I had no idea how long I could keep this up.

about 3 weeks ago I got an interview for one of those jobs I applied for and they explained that they were actually looking for a senior designer which obviously im not qualified for, but they liked my portfolio enough that they wanted to consider CREATING a junior designer role for me which was CRAZYYY to hear... it's a hawaiian bbq restaurant chain and I'm definitely wayyy more interested in designing for food and beverage stuff than real estate, plus a few other aspects about the job sounded really appealing to me and the interview went great so I was really hoping to get that job. but then I didn't hear back and Im so desensitized to getting ghosted after interviews i stopped getting my hopes up a long time ago.

a week and a half ago management at my real estate job told me that they were finally ready to bring me on full time, and since it didnt seem like I had any other prospects I wasnt really in a position to turn it down, so I immediately accepted and put in my 2 weeks at staples. this saturday will hopefully be the last day i ever have to work retail forever. I didnt make any announcement here when I found out because its honestly been making me depressed thinking about doing nothing but making fuckass instagram stories for ugly real estate companies 40 hours a week and people congratulating me on it would just make me more depressed. I wasn't supposed to start full time there until the monday after thanksgiving so ive still been doing my double part time grind.

but then......

whats that....???

THE HAWAIIAN BBQ RESTAURANT ENTERS WITH THE STEEL CHAIR!!!!

after weeks of no response the hr guy finally gave me a call just now to tell me I GOT THE JOB?!??! i genuinely honestly did not think they were gonna give me an offer and was just gonna move on with my life 😭 so now im gonna have to walk into my office tomorrow morning and say SIKE!!! and theyre all gonna be so mad at meeeee but this is genuinely such a better position for me I didnt think this was gonna happen for another year at least....

tldr I thought i was gonna be stuck with a job i dont like but I ended up getting the job I want!!!!!!!!