#must be the leftover cold - but truly. this man is crazy.

[sunflowercider]

I need yall to know that i snorted so loudly at Rakiel just casually declaring to Gardin and Damian that he should join the rebels that i sounded like a wooden chair being dragged on the floor

[just-here-for-the-moment]

Hi and congratulations for the milestone!! 🎉🎉

I did promise I’d take the wheel for a spin and it must be fate because this came up:

It seems fitting, that man is known for his talents with his mouth, tongue and fingers 🥴🥴

I’ll leave you with a question to go with the result (feel free to ignore if it doesn’t tickle your fancy); how long does he last until Frankie has to have a taste?

Congrats 🎉❤️

Ohhhhh frick, how could I POSSIBLY ignore that question?? Because now my head is simply reeling with HOT THOTS about Frankie Morales, finally eating you out, after you tease him endlessly.

And, of course because this is Frankie, I have to tip my hat to the seminal masterwork of “All Hail the King” by Kat @pilothusband, without which we would not have the headcanon of Frankie Morales as the pussy-eating king, which we all now know as gospel...

Thank you for helping me celebrate! There’s some real hot stuff under the cut, people!

The Game

Word count: 4500

Outline: Frankie Morales x “You” (cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: Mature/Explicit, 18+ only; mature and vulgar language; mentions of making out; teasing Frankie; one mention of oral sex/M receiving; oral sex/F receiving; vaginal fingering; Frankie has a FILTHY praise-kink mouth; Frankie going primal caveman on your pussy when he finally gets there

You’ve been on two previous dates with Frankie, and each one has ended in some truly smashing makeout sessions. The man is an excellent kisser, and it’s been so long since you had that, you’ve gone a little crazy with just kissing on your first two dates.

On your first date he took you out for a drive to the scenic overlook, and after an hour of good conversation, the sun had set low behind the ocean and you made out like teenagers in the cab of his truck for another hour.

Date two was an action movie, and since the theater was practically deserted when you sat down, you got a wicked idea. You tickled your fingers into the curls at the back of his neck and invited him to join you in the back row, and you made out again for all 105 minutes of explosions and punching. Neither one of you remembers the plot.

Tonight is date three, and after an early dinner out, you’ve decided that it’s time to invite Frankie back to your place to see what else he can do with that talented tongue.

You pour him a cold drink and he sits on your couch, but neither one of you really wants to talk. There’s too much electricity in the air. Your head is fuzzy with want. You’ve been able to kiss him plenty, but you haven’t had the chance to do more. And then you get another idea, a leftover ‘game’ from your teenage years, something that was hot back then when you played it with your boyfriends… maybe it still works?

“Do you want to play a game?” You slip your feet out of your sandals and tuck one leg under you to swivel toward him on the couch. You smile at this handsome, sweet man with your most secret smile and bite your lip as he frowns and looks at your bookshelf full of board games.

“You mean like Scrabble?” His confusion is adorable, and you giggle as you move closer to him on the couch, your voice low… “Not like Scrabble.” You flutter your eyelashes up at him and now his frown is gone, replaced by a look of interest.

“What kind of game did you have in mind, pretty girl?” And now he looks very interested, his broad hand coming up to your shoulder to stroke your arm, pulling you closer for a kiss. But you don’t let him pull you in all the way, you stop a few inches from his face and whisper… “A naughty game.”

And now you can see the sheer hunger in his eyes. The way his pupils flare and his deep coffee eyes fix onto your lips. He tries to go in for a kiss and you pull away, just out of reach. You hold up one finger and place it to his lips, stopping him in his tracks.

You smile up at him from under your lashes. “That’s the game.”

“I have to chase you?” He flicks his eyebrows up, not looking impressed.

“No. We try to get as close as we can, but we can’t touch. We tease each other, just to see how long we can hold out.”

He chuckles. “That’s a terrible game.”

“You don’t think anticipation is hot? How about this… what do you want to do to me the most? If you play my game you might get to do it.”

He looks less skeptical now. He glances at your lips, then back to your eyes, before his gaze trails down, down, down your body. You shiver, and from his look alone, you feel hot and cold all at once.

You’re starting to think this might be… well, not “dangerous,” just more of an experience than the last time you played, which was at an age where the absolute wildest possibility was that you would get to feel a boy’s hand on the outside of your bra.

You bite your lip and blink with nervous anticipation, waiting for him to take the bait. He could decide right now not to play and you would still let him ravish you, let him put his mouth and hands and dick wherever he wants. You would welcome it.

He meets your eyes again, and you hold your breath, feeling a heat creep up to your cheeks and down to your cunt at the same time. His whole body is still, except for the rise and fall of his chest, moving breaths slowly in and out, and his big brown eyes that blink occasionally as he considers you with a thoughtful expression.

This is torture, waiting for his answer. You’re about to break first, tell Frankie he doesn’t have to play your silly game, when he moves just his mouth. His bottom lip opens a crack, and his tongue slides out of the corner and sweeps across that plush, velvety top lip, half-hidden under his scruffy mustache.

He moves the tip of his tongue slowly, deliberately, keeping his eyes fixed on your face... watching you watch his mouth. You suddenly realize that this is his opening move, he’s playing your game already, and he’s playing you as well. You set the rules, and he’s already winning.

You release a shaky breath and scoot an inch closer on the couch. You flick the tip of your tongue out, letting it wet your bottom lip. You bring your lower lip in between your teeth and bite down hard, watching Frankie’s eyes drift to your mouth. You release your lip from between your teeth and then exhale a sigh and a breathy moan of, “Hmm…”

You reach your hand up to open the top button of your thin cardigan, the one you like to wear because it’s your color and it’s soft and it fits you like a dream. But it’s also the one that you wear on third dates on purpose, with no blouse underneath it - just a lacy bra and a heart full of hope pounding in your chest.

He watches your fingers with that hungry look resurfacing, the one that made your stomach flip a moment ago. He scoots closer to you, closing the gap until his denim-clad leg is a centimeter from your knee, one arm draped over the back of the couch, thick fingers resting just an inch from your shoulder.

No touching, you had said. Frankie is making it clear to you that he knows the rules and will play them to their limits. He reaches up to the neck of his denim shirt, the top two snaps already open, and then he unsnaps two more. The neck of his shirt falls open, and the amber light from the lamp scatters across the planes of his neck and clavicles. You can’t tear your eyes away from his golden skin, and you feel the emptiness of your pussy as it starts to leak into your panties.

Frankie holds himself still, waiting for your next move. You aren’t sure what to do next, and truthfully your brain went completely blank the moment you caught sight of Frankie’s chest. You decide to raise the stakes. You get up from the couch, moving to stand in front of Frankie where he sits. His deep brown eyes are watching you intently, smoldering as he takes in your form just an arm’s length away. His gaze skates from your face to your breasts to your hips and back up, and you wait until his eyes come to a stop before you make your move.

You reach up to the second button of your cardigan and open it, then the next one. You see Frankie’s eyes go wide, pupils flaring black as he realizes what you’re doing. You fight the giddiness that surges up inside you, forcing your face to remain as neutral as possible. You see Frankie’s cock twitch once in his jeans, and you are delirious with the sudden realization that you’re holding quite a lot of power over this gorgeous man.

Your fingers continue their dance down your buttons until all of them are free, and then you grab the lapels of your cardigan. Frankie’s eyes flick to your hands where they hover at your breasts, and you pause, drawing the moment out for as long as you deem just short of cruel. You open the cardigan and shed it from your shoulders, tossing it on the couch seat you just vacated.

Frankie takes a sharp breath in, and his eyes flutter closed for just a moment. When he opens them again his brown irises are nearly blown black with arousal, and you almost feel bad for escalating the game this far. You take three steps backward toward the hallway, curling your finger to draw Frankie up off the couch. You break the silence with one word, “Bedroom.”

He surges up off the couch so quickly that you think he’s decided to break, to just grab you and pounce on you and end the game. But instead he halts a foot away, and looks deep into your eyes with a smirk. Something like a warning in the back of your brain tickles, uh-oh.

Frankie starts to undress, and as you see more of his golden skin in the low lamplight, you start to think that you might concede first. He sheds his baseball cap, then his shirt, tugging the remaining snaps open with a single pull. You drink in the sight of his naked torso, the soft patches of hair that mimic his delectable facial scruff, the breadth of his wide shoulders, and the curve of his abdomen where it meets his waistband. There’s a faint trail of hair that leads down, and now you’re dying to follow it where it leads.

He toes his work boots off, then opens the fly of his jeans. He pulls them down and off with his socks, and now he’s standing in your living room, clad only in a pair of black boxer-briefs, the soft cotton fabric doing a valiant job of containing his massive erection. You fight the urge to sink down to your knees and rip his underwear off, shove your mouth down onto his cock, see how deep you can take him. You hear yourself shudder as you inhale, nearly a sob, and it echoes in the silence and stillness of the room. Frankie looks pleased with himself, coiled and waiting for your next move. He must know how close you are to breaking.

You take another few steps backwards, keeping your eyes on Frankie as he follows you down the short hallway to your bedroom. You open your jeans as you cross the threshold, pushing them down along with your underwear and kicking them off into a corner. You reach behind you to unclasp your bra, and Frankie pauses to watch you, hands braced on either side of the doorway where he stands, his corded neck and shoulders tensed. You reach up to one shoulder and slowly pull the strap down. Then you do the same to the other strap, moving deliberately, watching Frankie’s ears go slightly pink as he clenches his jaw. You stand with your back to the wall, and you rest your back and shoulders against it, no longer trusting your watery knees to hold you upright. Then you tip your jaw up at Frankie. Your move.

Frankie crosses the room swiftly, long legs eating up the distance between you. He braces each large hand on the wall on either side of your head, then leans in closer, caging you in. His dark eyes fix on yours, and for just a moment you forget how to breathe. His gorgeous hooked nose is just an inch from yours, and if you tilted your head up you could bump noses, engage him in a kiss. But you’re not ready to give in just yet.

You gaze into the liquid cocoa pools, and inhale as silently as you can through your nose, smelling the clean cotton scent of Frankie’s detergent as it mixes with the masculine musk of his deodorant, the expanse of his tawny skin giving off its own salty hints. You feel a sharp twinge between your legs, another clench of your pussy, and now that’s all you can think about. You’re throbbing and wet, hot and getting hotter.

You press your thighs together in a futile attempt to relieve the ache, but it only makes it worse. You exhale and it comes out on the back of a whine, a faint noise that you know Frankie hears, because his expression changes to hunger again, mixed with a secret and knowing smile that tells you that you’re in deep trouble with this man. You have underestimated him, and you’re going to learn that lesson in a very memorable way.

Frankie is sweet and kind, soft-spoken and gentlemanly. You try to think back to what you assumed would happen when you proposed this little game, that maybe he would get a little bit horny, play along with you for a few minutes, and then pretend to give in just to get his arms around you. Instead, you seem to have awakened a strategist, someone who is used to making important calculations toward an end goal. You mistook Frankie’s softness for something it definitely is not, and now you’re regretting having challenged him. He’s not going to go easy on you.

Your stomach does that sick roller-coaster thing that it does sometimes, and you feel your heartbeat kick up a notch as Frankie uses those sharp eyes of his to inspect you. His penetrating stare moves from your eyes to your lips, which part involuntarily, an invitation to kiss you if he dares to give in first. He breathes slowly through his nose as his eyes trail down to your breasts and back up, taking in every inch of your bare skin. You feel like you’re being strangled by his gaze, but it is delicious.

Frankie takes his hands off the wall and then drops slowly to his knees. You look down at him in surprise. He opens his mouth and his voice is low and commanding. “Hands above your head for me, sweetheart.”

You lift your chin level with the floor and lace your fingers over your head, leaning harder into the wall with your shoulders. Your heart thrums in your chest, a steady tattoo that reminds you that you’re alive, but that also makes you feel very close to passing out. You try to remind yourself to breathe, breathe, breathe. You widen your legs just a bit for stability, and you hear Frankie chuckle low in his throat.

He starts talking, and were it not for the wall holding you up, you swear that you would buckle to the ground as he bathes you with his delicious, filthy monologue.

“Did you know,” Frankie intones, his voice raspy with desire, “... that you have the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen?”

You rush an exhale out through your mouth, and suck a great heaving breath back in. He’s only just started, and you’re not at all sure that you’re going to survive this. You dare to tilt your head to look down at Frankie, but his eyes are not on yours, they’re staring intently at your pubic mound. He’s transfixed, the secret smile gone as he stares between your legs.

“In fact, I think that this might be... the most tempting pussy that I’ve ever had the pleasure of looking at. I could just bury my face in her right now.”

You feel like you can’t breathe, and you lace your fingers tighter behind your head as you stare down at Frankie’s soft curls, his nose just inches from your sex, his tongue dripping honey as you feel yourself getting wetter. Frankie continues his dirty talk, spilling the gorgeous, filthy words right into the center of your being.

“I would definitely like to taste her, see how she drips for me when she really gets going. Do you drip or do you squirt, honey?”

You clench your butt muscles and lean your shoulders even harder against the wall, a desperate attempt to stay upright as your knees threaten to give out. An involuntary whine slips out from your lips, and Frankie tilts his head to look up at you, that mischievous smile curving back across his lush lips.

“Would you like that, darlin’? Would you like me to eat you out?”

You bite your lips hard and struggle to stay standing. All you want to do is give in, collapse down onto Frankie and let him have his way with you. You feel another new rush of slickness hit your center and you almost break. Not yet, your brain whispers. Just wait...

Frankie turns his face back to your pelvis and then braces his hands on the wall, so close to your hips that you can feel the warmth emanating off his skin. But again, not touching you, he’s staying within the rules that you set for him. He’s too good at this, and now you know that you’re definitely going to lose.

Frankie slowly leans forward, bending his elbows to move his face closer and closer to your crotch. His nose comes an inch away, then half an inch. For a moment you hope that he will slip and make contact and lose, but he doesn’t. He has excellent muscle control and his arms don't even quiver as he finally stops, hovering just a centimeter in front of your cunt. You are wetter than you ever have been, and you swear that you can feel it leaking down the inside of your leg, trailing down your thigh as Frankie tortures you.

His voice is a whisper now, velvety and soft, and you strain to hear him above the rushing of your own heartbeat in your ears.

“You smell amazing, honey.” He closes his eyes and inhales, taking your scent into himself like you’re the sweetest flower at the farmer’s market.

It hits you suddenly that this is the most debauched, most intimate thing you’ve ever done with a lover. No man has ever dared to just smell you like this, and you feel something twist inside the bowl of your pelvis, like a spring being wound tighter. You realize that you’re not breathing, and you open your mouth into a little o-shape to take a slow, cooling breath into your lungs. You regain your steadiness and settle deeper into yourself to try to hold out, to hang in there just a little longer.

“I bet that you taste like heaven, pretty girl. I can’t wait to fuck you on my tongue, lick you inside and out.”

Frankie leans back and looks up at you with a wink. “After you touch me first and lose, I’m going to lick this pussy so hard that you come six times while you scream my name.”

You gurgle out a surprised, “Oh!”

Frankie sits back on his heels and stands back up, a little triumphant, like he knows how close he pushed you to the edge.

You release your hands and place your palms flat on the wall by your hips, not trusting them to hang loose at your sides, lest they decide to reach out and skim over his broad shoulders of their own accord. You look up at Frankie where he hovers over you, and you lick your lips and whisper to him.

“Frankie, I want you. Please touch me.”

He arches one eyebrow at you. “Does that mean you want the game to end? Are you giving up?”

You close your eyes and shake your head no, and for a moment you’re not sure if you’re even capable of playing the game any longer. Your head is fuzzy and your skin is screaming to be touched. You take a deep breath in and then out, and when you open your eyes Frankie is looking at you with concern.

“Do you give up, sweetheart? Or do you want to keep playing?”

You choke out a strangled whisper, the barest hint of speech. “I want… I want…”

Frankie comes closer, bracing himself on the wall again, big arms boxing you in as he moves into your space. He tilts his head down and murmurs, “Tell me.”

You look up into his eyes and the whole room tilts to the left. All you can see is Frankie, and he’s all that matters while the rest of the world spins dizzy around you. You feel sick with anticipation, and you know that this is your fault, that you were the one who proposed this stupid torturous game in the first place.

You just want it to end, you need it to end now.

“Frankie, I… I want…”

“You want me to eat you out? Stick my tongue inside that gorgeous pussy and fuck you with it until you come? Is that it?”

He leans closer and still doesn’t touch you, just keeps stringing you along with his depraved poetry as he tilts his head to hover an inch from your ear.

“Or maybe you want me to finger-fuck you, too? Stretch you open and see how good it feels? I bet we can make your pussy squirt, make you gush around my hand when I reach deep inside and hit your g-spot. I bet you’ll soak the bed, you sweet thing. Maybe squirt clear across the room.”

“Oh god.” You whine and duck your chin, trying to resist the urge to turn your head toward him and make contact, kiss him and then let him go wild, do all the things he’s been threatening to do.

“Frankie, I…”

“You what, sweetheart?” His tone is just this side of mocking, and it makes your cunt clench.

“I need…”

Frankie pulls his head away from your ear and looks you directly in the eyes.

“Use your words pretty girl.” His voice has an edge now, firm, sounding like a direct order. “Tell me what you need.”

“I- I want, I need… I need you inside of me. I want you everywhere, Frankie.”

“Yeah? You need me, sweet girl? You need Frankie to take care of you?”

Your face crumples, a whine of pure desire making your throat ache. Your pussy drools another bit of slick down your inner thigh. You want to cry, and Frankie frowns at you with genuine concern.

“I can take care of you, sweetheart. Anything you want, you just say the word. But first…” He leans his head down lower, lower, lower and stops, his warm breath fanning over your lips as he whispers.

“... first you have to touch me.”

You moan at that, the unfair knowledge that all you have to do to get everything you want is to give in. And he’s so close, his nose just a centimeter from yours. All you would have to do is lean up, kiss him, and-

Frankie abruptly pushes off the wall and takes two steps back from you. The sudden absence of him makes something in you snap. You rush at him and practically knock him over, kissing him with a snarl and wrapping your arms and legs around him as he laughs in surprise. He braces both big hands under your bottom and half-carries you to your bed.

He plops you down on the bedspread and then leans down over you as you kiss and kiss and kiss him. Now that the dam has broken, you’re not sure you’re ever going to stop, and you don’t give a flying fuck that you just lost at your own game. As far as you’re concerned you won, because you’re naked on your bed with Frankie laying over you, his hard cock pressing against your wet seam through his boxers.

You open your legs wide and wrap them around Frankie’s waist, and he kisses you before pulling back with a gentle shush against your lips.

“Wait wait, pretty girl. We’re not gonna fuck yet. I gotta eat you out first.”

“No Frankie, please. Please just fuck me.” You clutch and grasp at him, trying to pull him into you. He braces himself on his arms and hovers maddeningly over your face as he smiles.

“No, baby. You said if I played your game you would let me do what I wanted. You lost. I win.”

Frankie moves his mouth to your ear and whispers. “I get to eat your pussy until you’re screaming my name.”

You moan, a high-pitched cry of defeat. You want him inside of you now, not a moment longer. You’ve been tortured and taunted long enough, and you haven’t even gotten a glimpse of his cock, other than to see the impressive way that his erection fills out the contours of his boxer-briefs.

Frankie kisses you and tells you to release your legs, and then he stands up and wraps his big hands around your ankles and pulls you to the edge of the bed. He kneels on the floor and looks up to your face with a wicked smile, the look of a man who is about to enjoy his victory over you.

You try to remind yourself that you lost, fair and square, and now your punishment is that you will have to wait to feel Frankie’s huge cock stretching you open. You’re going to have to take your punishment like a good girl.

Frankie pushes your legs up and back toward your chest, and you hook your hands behind your knees to hold them open. He takes the first tentative lick of your clit, and you cry a soft “Oh!” and toss your head back.

Frankie’s fingers stroke your outer labia, top to bottom, and he spreads you open with his fingertips. You feel the cool air hit your slick, and then the hot swipe of his tongue through your folds. This is torture, you think, but only as much as I deserve.

Frankie licks your clit gently before suddenly surging into you tongue-first, going as deep as he can, licking into you deeply. He curls his tongue up as he withdraws, and he hits the bundle of nerves on the underside of your clit. He does it again and again and again, and before you can warn him that you’re about to come, you’re shuddering and breaking apart in his mouth.

Frankie eases two big fingers into you and you’re grateful for the thickness of them, giving your muscles something to clench and squeeze around while Frankie softly licks your clit, working you through your climax. When you finally relax your legs, he sucks your clit into his mouth and then releases you with a smack of his lips.

“That’s one, pretty girl, but I didn’t hear you scream my name. We’ll see if you can do that with any of the other five.”

Frankie dives back into you face-first, and fulfills all of his threats from the game.

---

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[writesandfights]

Can you do one where y/n is afraid to smoke but she always puts her hand in his smoke bc she thinks it’s cool. Jj wants to teach her and use it as a way to flirt but she always denies. Later he catches her playing with his zippo lighter and calls her a klypto too. He teaches her to smoke n it’s rly cute !!! Ok sorry I’ll stoppp!! I love ur blog tho🤩🤩

PROMPT # : PERSONAL REQUEST

WORD COUNT: 1660

WARNINGS: SMOKING

PAIRING: JJ X READER

LATIBULE

JJ sat at the edge of the deck when he was smoking, this location seemed to be the most comforting place for him in all reality, he loved the way this felt, his feet dancing through the cold water and his eyes tracing over the setting sun. You walked down the dock in the click of your boots and he turned to see you with a small smirk spreading over his lips, he was happy to see you were home after having gone to the mainland for some time. You were home. That's all that mattered to him, he licked his lips and moved over so you could sit down next to him.

“Hey there beautiful, it's good to see you're home again, I have missed you, let me say, trying to text you without a phone was literally one of the most impossible things - BUT uh.. Would you like to smoke?” he had handed it out to you, hoping you would take the blunt from his hand but you shook your head weakly and only watched him carefully. “ no no.. you know I don’t like to smoke but uh.. I must say I'm flattered you tried to talk to me through your imaginary phone..”

He took a deep breath, watching as the smoke reached his lungs and he took a second to blow out the fog that remained. You put your hand up and ran your fingers through the swirls of light, it was beautiful, you didn;t like smoking but you must admit, when you saw those puffs of smoke you couldn;t help but want to touch it. They were like those old paintings you would see in the chinese fairy tales, small, then they would spread so much bigger than itself, fading away to nothing.

A smile spread over your face when you finally put your hand down and he smirked again, he loved when you did that, you acted like the little things were so damn perfect and you appreciated fire along with the danger that came with it. “ you know.. You seem to be so appreciatitaive of the smoke that comes off of this blunt, I think one day you should just say fuck it and smoke, but anyways, I gotta make sure John B doesnt go to get himself killed by some crazy old woman who loves axes, Ill catch you later beautiful.”

The young man had stood up and kissed your cheek before he left, you turned a deep red and shook your head jokingly, you turned and waved to him. “ wow! You have a great time! Make sure you don’t die in that house or whatever in the hell the two of you are gonna do!!” He rolled his eyes and waved to him while laughing under his breath, your eyes traced down to the dock to see he had left behind his golden zippo lighter, it was beautiful, you had to admit to that, but you knew he would look for it if you didn't tell him you had it.

You shot a message to the younger man, aka John B, telling him that you had the lighter and that JJ could come over to your house and pick it up, he knew better than to come through the front door, your parents were way to strict after all, they were never going to allow you to end up with someone like him but goodness that didn't stop you from falling harder and harder for him. You watched as The Nun was on the screen, probably not the greatest idea to watch a horror movie when you're expecting guests but you did it anyway. The lighter was no bigger than your thumb when you ran your fingers through the small flame and smiled overly proud that you didn’t get burnt. It actually felt good, it felt like heaven to touch the fire.

JJ watched from the window when he saw you playing with what you had in your hand, his lighter, You ran your finger through the flame and stopped when it would hurt, it was like you were enchanted by the flame, the same way he was. It danced through the darkness of your room but he still saw that familiar look in your eyes, the wonder and the amazement, he loved that look, adored it.

He pushed the small window open, letting a little creak noise echo through your room, when you heard it, you instantly jumped into the air and shook your head. Your heart was racing when you turned and held onto the pillow as a weapon, JJ climbed into the room and flicked the lamp on when he got greeted by the pillow right to the face, “ hey hey you need to calm down there, princess.”

When you heard his voice you calmed down but shook your head slowly, you licked your lips and turned away in complete embarrassment, he was laughing and sat down on your bed. He picked up his lighter and opened it, letting the fire dance over the rough palm of his hand, he was still so handsome, in this light or even in the light of day, but you were drawn to the fire. “ you know i saw the way you had been looking at that fire, maybe you're a lot like me, a klepto, right? Do you know what that means beautiful?”

You bit the inside of your lip when you nodded and didn’t want to admit that the good girl was drawn to the feeling of freedom and the heat that fire seemed to give off, that was always gonna be enough for you. JJ stood up and grabbed your hand when he pulled you closer and started to take you towards the window, “ come on.. I know you're scared of smoking but youre gonna be okay when you're with me, I promise you that, just take my hand and trust me..”

“ of course I trust you.. But what happens if we get caught, what happens then?” He chuckled and moved your hair from your face when he knew you were truly worried about something like that, “ then we ran away from the cops.. If we are lucky we will get caught in a tight alleyway and you'll be pressed right into my chest..”

Of course that idea sent goosebumps up your spine but you laughed regardless, his eyes so soft when he had gotten you to agree. You stood up and allowed him to pull you out of the window, he helped you down and held onto your waist, leaning into your chest and turned a deep red because of it. He might have been smooth but when it came down to you, he wasn't that smooth person anymore, he lost all control of that and maybe you knew that, but maybe you didn't.

He had led you back to that dock where he sat down and held onto a small blunt, lighting it between his thumb and pointer finger, he could see you were nervous but he would have comforted you through all of it. “ I know you're scared, but look at me, you're gonna be by my side the whole time and- I know you won't be alone, i'm right here..” He winked and you nodded when you moved closer to his body, he placed the end between his lips when he took a deep breathe and you watched as he let it reach his lungs again, he then exhaled and you reached up to grab the smoke but he took your hand, “ i wanna hold your hand..”

A smile came onto your lips when you let your eyes trace down to his lips and he was doing the same, he knew you were staring and goodness how he was intrigued by you. He held out the little joint and nodded weakly, “ okay baby.. Sorry uh, beautiful, you use your thumb and your pointer finger, pressing it between your lips and taking a deep breath, when you do, suck it all the way in until you feel the smoke hitting your lungs, okay?”

You nodded in agreement and did as told when you pressed the drug between your lips and took a deep breath, allowing it to reach your lungs and soon you were coughing much louder than before, trying to control the burning but you couldn't. JJ laughed with a small smirk and held onto the blunt when you were done with it. He watched you so carefully, you're soft pink lips rising to meet the joint he rolled for this moment, the goosebumps that rose atop your skin when he ran his fingers over yours, he was so enamored and goodness how he just wanted to tell you how he felt in that moment.

“ okay okay, there's my girl, you hit that like you were snoop dogg, look at you go..” he chuckled and soon took another hit himself but this one was different, he moved closer nad pressed his lips into yours, he exhaled into your mouth but kissed you at the same time. It was the most euphoric feeling you have ever had, the running of happiness through your veins, how your eyes closed when you kissed him in return, goodness how you have been wanting to do that. You have always wanted to kiss him and now you have the chance to do so, you pulled back a moment later and leaned your forehead against his, allowing him to breathe when you blew the leftover smoke into his face. He was brave when he saw the red lines coming over your eyes, you were stoned out of your mind and he would take care of your giggly self, but the first thing he wanted to do was ask so softly, “ go out on a date with me.. Tomorrow..”

A/N - awe thank you so much! I am happy you love my account . It’s a mess right now but thank you for the compliment. I hope you enjoy it, i also left it open for a part two ;)

[lololova]

A/N: A lot of you wanted a continuation on Why do you think? so here you go, here’s quite a longer sequel to the previous shot. ALSO, this is M-RATED!!

There, you’ve been warned, go ahead and enjoy, Happy Easter y’all!

————————————

Kate was amazed by his beach house the second she sat foot here three hours ago. Her partner had showed her a tour of his property and she has to admit she can’t wait till tomorrow when she can lay out by the pool and work on her tan. Especially when she knows he’s going to be observing her.

“I’m going to make us some dinner, you want some wine?” Castle interrupts her thoughts and she puts away the book she’d brought.

“Yes please,” she raises from the couch and follows him as he walks into the big kitchen. 

“Here you go.”

She accepts the red wine with a thanks and takes the first sip only to moan at the taste, not being prepared at the heavenly taste. 

“You like it?” he asks with a smirk landing on his lips and she tries to scold her features. 

“It’s good.” She walks to the windows to look out towards the beach while he starts cooking. 

She takes another sip as she watches the waves sparkle in the moonlight. Some part of her can’t really believe she’s here, with him. She dumped Demming, they solved the case with the fake spies and now she’s here. All alone with her favorite writer who also happens to be her annoying shadow and the best partner she’d ever had. Another sip makes it past her lips and down her throat before her teeth sink into her lower lip. She’s here. She’s really here. Her mind can’t stop going to the things she secretly wants to happen. At the same time there’s a part of her that wants to resist, wants to protect herself and her heart from hurting the way she hurt when her mom was taken from her. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

She jerks at the sudden sound of his voice but tries to play it off by moving her hand through her hair. 

“So, now even my thoughts aren’t private anymore huh?” she questions with a small tease hiding in her voice, her eyes finding his as he observes her.

“Oh,” a smirk lands on his lips, “so they’re private thoughts, got it.”

She rolls her eyes, shaking her head as she looks away again. “Shut up.” But once she knows he can’t see it her lips pull up in a smile and she has to bite it down in order not to grin. After a few more minutes she takes another heavenly sip and feels her cheeks get a bit warm.

“You know, if you want to we can always take a dip in the ocean later,” he suggests and she tries but fails to think about that.

Taking a dip in the ocean with him would definitely involve some touching and even though she wouldn’t mind one bit it just… feels strange. And then she remembers what she suggested only a day ago and she has to bite her lip again in order to try and push down her inner rebel that would do it within a heartbeat. The reason it feels so strange must be because she’s denied her all these thoughts for so long that it feels like they’re completely taking over her mind right now. It’s the only kind of thing she’s been able to think about for the past two days, apart from the case that is. 

She’s lost in her thoughts again and next time he opens his mouth it’s to announce that the dinner is done. When she sits down to eat she can’t believe he’s been able to be quiet for that long, but she’s not focused on that issue for very long because the second the food gets on her tongue she’s distracted by the taste. She really can’t deny she’s missed his cooking from the days when she had to stay over at his place during that Nikki Heat case.

“This was delicious, thanks Castle,” she says once she’s full and can’t take another bite without bursting. 

“Good, I hoped the silence meant you enjoyed it,” he teases and she rolls her eyes despite the smile growing on her lips. 

“Well, I’ve never tasted it before, what’s it called?”

He chuckles and she furrows her forehead, wondering what’s so funny. “It’s called flying Jacob.”

Her forehead wrinkles even more. “Flying Jacob?”

“Yeah, it’s a Swedish dish. Apparently a man named Jacob created it or something, I found it once when I searched for new chicken recipes.” Castle explains as Kate drinks the last of her wine.

Kate’s mind starts racing again, without any warning, and she feels her cheeks blush at the thoughts. For some reason she was thinking about the poker game she halfway promised him. She raise up from her seat and puts everything of hers into the dishes while he takes his own parts before turning the leftovers into lunch boxes. 

“So,” he starts once everything is done, “ what do you want to do?”

You. She bites her lip. “Are you up for some poker?”

She can practically hear the gulp he takes and tries not to grin at the knowledge she’s getting to him with that simple sentence. God, they were a mess. 

“Sure,” he says as casually as he can. He offers more wine which she accepts before pouring a glass to himself, and then she follows him into the living room.

She takes a sip as she’s observing him taking out a deck of cards. 

“You wanna play for money, or clothing?” he asks and she smirks.

————————————

Sitting in only her bra, panties and leggings has her skin tingling with excitement. She should be cold, because no matter how hot the weather was during the day it was always colder during the evening, but she wasn’t. She was actually kind of warm. Castle only had two items left, his boxers and his pants. She can see he’s just as excited as she is, especially since he can’t really hide his bulge. It’s hard to focus on the game, knowing he wants her as much as she wants him. But the fact that he hasn’t made a move makes her unsure of how focused he is, if he truly has that kind of self-control or if he’s waiting for her to make a move. 

“So, what’s your next move?” she says in a teasing tone, has kept her tone teasing and lips in a smirk during the whole game.

That wine must’ve helped her confidence quite a bit, she makes a mental note to ask for the label later. 

Kate observes his face the same way he’s always been observing her, and is still observing her at this moment. Her cheeks turn warmer and she bites her lip, knowing full well he can see the blush burning her face. He clears his throat and she wants to laugh, wants to put down her cards and just say “screw this”, but no matter how much she knows that’s where this is going she can’t yet get herself to do it. When they cross this line there is no going back. Then again, she dumped her boyfriend for him, because it killed her knowing he’d leave her if she didn’t stop fooling herself, and him.

“I’ll bet my pants,” he interrupts her thoughts and starts pulling off the jeans, putting them at the top of the small mountain of clothes they have between them. 

His boxers are a dark blue and she feels her breath hitch a bit at the sudden thought of being the one pulling them off, the way she knows his skin would twitch under her fingertips. Or her tongue. 

She shrugs out of her mind, put down her cards in order to pull off her leggings, letting them join his pants in the pile. “I’m not folding that easily,” she teases and sees his eyes roaming her body. Even though his sight isn’t at all somehow magical she can still feel how his eyes are leaving a trail of fire along her skin. 

He gulps before turning his gaze to his cards again. “Hmm, I’m thinking about going All-In,” he emphasizes the poker-term while turning his eyes back on hers and she feels a chill go down her spine.

“Honestly,” she says putting down her cards and pretending to stretch her back from the sitting down at the floor for too long. Before he can do or say anything else, his eyes big as they follow her every move, she crawls towards him to take his cards and putting them down as well. “I don’t care anymore.” She leans closer with her face in order to let her lips barely touch his.

There’s no more encouragement needed because before she knows it his hands land on her hips and pulling her onto his as his mouth takes hers in a demanding demeanor she isn’t used feeling from him. His fingers dig into her naked skin just above her panties and she can’t help but start grinding onto him, her tongue seeking permission to enter his mouth. She can’t believe how he’s already got her panting, out of breath yet not willing to break away because fuck his taste is invasive and so damn enchanting and addictive and she never wants to stop. One of his hands gets adventurous and she feels it land on her buttcheek, squeezing to pull her closer, as if that was a possibility. His bulge is poking her in just the right way and she moans when his tongue swirls around hers in a dancing pattern. 

Kate lets her fingers wander into his hair, feeling the thickness and softness of it makes her heart skip a beat. She can’t believe she hasn’t done this before, let down her guard like this, given in. It’s what part of her brain had told her to do ever since his first offer after that first case. She loses her breath and has to pull away, which to her surprise results in his lips landing on her throat, kissing her pulsepoint driving her pulse crazy. One of her hands lands on his shoulder, massaging in a way she’s never found herself doing on anyone else. It was almost like his lips and touches was possessing her own touches and moves. His tongue sticks out and licks her skin as he places wet kisses down her throat, her neck, and before she can question why he moves away she feels his breath blowing air onto the wet spots and it sends electric waves down her body straight to her core. 

“Castle,” she pants and feels his grin once his lips attaches to her neck once again. 

He trails his lips down and she isn’t aware of his hand at her back until he’s unclasped her bra and his mouth takes one of her breasts in a sucking matter making her whimper at the feeling. On another note she’s very much aware of the fingers trailing the hem of her panties, dipping inside without any warning and she loses her breath at the sudden connection of his fingers against her wet folds.

“Damnit Beckett,” he groans and she wonders if he truly has no idea how much he’s able to turn her on. If only he knew what his fictional representations of him and her having sex had done to her. 

When he starts rubbing her she has to grab a hold of his hand to stop him, she’s so damn close and she hasn’t felt him inside her yet. She wants to feel him first, doesn’t want her first time coming with him being due to riding his fingers. Lifting her body off of his she starts pulling at his dark blue boxers stating “off”, and it doesn’t take him a nano-second before he’s helping her out of her own panties. Just as she’s about to take him inside her he’s holding her hips to stop her.

“Are you sure?” he asks and she feels her heart swoon at him. He’s not planned on just using the situation they’re in and taking her, he’s making sure she truly wants this as much as he does, not just physically but mentally too. It makes her even more sure of the decision she made two days earlier.

“I’m sure, I want you. Just you,” she reveals and after they’ve searched each other’s eyes for a minute, both confirming this was something they both cherished and wanted, the two of them dives deep into each other. Touching, kissing, connecting. Turning each other into moaning messes as they reach their highs together and falls over.

————————————

“Hey, you want some sun lotion?” Castle asks and Kate squints her eyes in order to look at him walking towards her and she can’t stop the smile from spreading on her lips. 

“I think you covered it pretty well the first time,” she says in a mocking tone and he chuckles.

“It was worth a try,” he states and she laughs. 

“Yeah, like all the other times you try.”

“Can’t blame a man from loving his wife,” he shrugs his shoulders and she sits up in order to raise from the chair.

She closes the distance between them in order to lay her arms around his neck in a hug, his arms finding their own way around her body. She steps onto her toes and kisses his lips.

“Come on, let’s make use of that pool, I’m burning,” she says and he laughs, kisses her lips once more before the two of them races to the pool.

THE END

[horseyfuture]

Lockdown 2021

Welcome, you sickening metallic pervert. I don’t know why I even tolerate you, my dues to the club have long since been settled and yet still you show up with your corrugated spleen and your laminated nipples. What? Oh, it’s you. With your simple fleshy appendages and some kind of yellow blancmange for a CPU. I suppose you will suffice. Bend yourself over the table there and we’ll get on with the show. Liquid soap’s on the side, next to the antique bum-hammer.

---

Aries: You find yourself repeatedly followed by crows. This is in no way related to the quite normal phenomenon in which a murder of crows will adopt a human who feeds them, bringing them trinkets and even offering them protection from aggressors. No, these crows find you sexy. Leaping about in your lounge, wearing your goth tops and flapping your arms to the rhythms of online parties, the crows all agree that you are “SKRARK!” or, in Crow, “one fine piece of floppy human tail”. Well done! Crows have good taste and make excellent lovers.

Taurus: Every time you open that damn Taurus mouth of yours, you sound like a broken record. I mean, literally, you sound like a piece of badly scratched vinyl. That’s been up the wrong bit of a rhino. And is being played using a bent nail. Through the speakers of a brown ‘65 Ford Allegro. In Ipswitch. In the rain. On a Wednesday. In November. That’s a lot of detail to pack into an accent every time you decide to prattle on about crisps. People find it offputting.

Gemini: On a whim, you buy yourself a File-o-fax, you know, from the 80s. You must have seen one in a kitschy American TV show or something. While excessively bored on a Sunday afternoon, you begin to fill in some of the entries from your mobile phone. As soon as you finish writing the first one, Adam, he calls! What a crazy coincidence! You move onto the next, Beth - then SHE calls! That’s just insane! As you move onto the next name, you think “My god, what if I bought a MAGICAL File-o-fax? What adventures could I HAVE?” - You look down at the table in awe, when suddenly it all becomes clear: next to the Magic File-o-fax is the Magic Empty Bottle of Gin. Ah.

Cancer: Singing a song about beans, YEAH! Singing a song about toast! Singing a song about beans on toast, ‘cos that food you like the most, WOO! Singing a song about waffles? NO! Can’t be arsed making them! Beans on toast takes like two tiny minutes and waffles take about fucking ten! (FUCK THAT!) Singing a song into the beans can! While the beans turn in the microwave, ALRIGHT! Naming individual beans (YEAH!) pretend they’re all going to a beans rave! (WHISTLE POSSE!) Shovelling the beans into your mouth WOO! Toasting bread is for twats! (LO-SERS!) Pouring cold beans onto your face and half of them fall onto the cat! (SEND HELP!)

Leo: After a successful hour’s staring at the stippled ceiling, you reward yourself with a brisk walk to the door. After three proud steps, diligently recorded by your fitness band (which you’re fairly certain is now emitting a dull weeping sound), you jubilantly punch the air and have a nice relaxing pass out on the floor. After another few hours, you surf another boost of energy and nearly make it to the fridge. Sadly, though this goal is destined to elude you as you trip over a recently-delivered Amazon envelope. A handful of attempts in, you succeed at opening the envelope (only stopping twice to catch breath) and discover it to contain one flimsy plastic finger measurer and a £60 voucher for a wine subscription. You remember the partner you once had, in the distant before times, so vibrant and loud. In recognition of having had what you’re certain is “a feeling”, you fling the ring-measurer away, order the wine and settle into a nice, relaxing cry.

Virgo: There are a number of St Bernards around your neighbourhood and you’ve started to find them more than a little intimidating. What began as friendly barks as you passed in the street has developed into the odd growl and now barking as the owners pull their wretched beasts back from you, swearing in anguish as their hounds’ slavering jaws snap at your heels. After a few weeks of this, Monthly Bath Weekend inevitably comes round and the problem seems to just go away.

Libra: Some people have been baking recently. They - of course - are twats. Others have chosen to use this time to improve existing music skills, or even pick up a new instrument in their abundance of free time. Shit-eating scum, each and every one of them. You are not going to be affected by this self-improvement bullshit and have decided to strike out on your own, tangibly making yourself less pleasant, skilled and attractive with each passing day. Monday is fudge-eating class. Tuesday, “how long can I sit on the loo?” marathons (5 hours PB). Wednesday is Yelling ‘BASTARDS’ at the Sky Day, while Thursday (being the new Friday) you party on down with a life-size model of Prince made from your own toenails. Friday you slam your face into cupboards, repeating the word “APES” in a dull monotone. At the weekend, it’s time to rest! Phew! Just a few hours drilling holes in the ceiling, a slip, a tumble, a fall, a crunching sound and a view from the underside of a very poorly constructed step-ladder until it all goes beautifully dark.

Scorpio: Fuck this, you’re buying beach balls. Yep. Why not? You do, in fact, buy beach balls. Why didn’t you think of this before? They’re bright. They’re entertaining. They’re CHEAP. You can order them in large quantities, it turns out. “Ooh, I hope you’re not having a party!” says the delivery man, with a wink “HAHAHAH, NO. Actually I’m just INFLATING THEM AND POPPING THEM” you cackle toward his suddenly retreating face. It takes a while to inflate all 400, but the high you get from blowing them up is quite intense! Now you have a house full of beach balls! Haha! You can’t bring yourself to pop them in the end. Some of them are lost to accidents (fried beach ball, anyone?) and others you draw on with crude faces of past enemies, then open the door and punt them down the street with a hearty “FUCK YOU, BEATRICE!” (or Ken, as appropriate. You had few enemies. It’s cheap therapy). The last few hundred last you happily into the next month, though the doctor is mildly unimpressed when you attempt to get them vaccinated.

Sagittarius: Your attempts at making LEGO sex toys go badly to begin with. But, weirdly, you do eventually get better at it. You’re particularly proud of the one where you use the gearbox from the racing car for, well, you know. The winking pneumatic sex-donkey (8,014 bricks) is, in most people’s opinion, your pièce de résistance. You can’t wait for the highstreet to open up again, so you can go and show off your repertoire down the local toyshop.

Capricorn: It’s tough getting through lockdown without the internet. In your case, though, it is entirely self-inflicted. You made a promise to yourself to cut down on the doomscrolling and it was successful! Prodigiously so! You end up cutting out the news sites - who needs them? - then the social sites - nothing but trash! - then eventually you just pull the wires out of your router and fling it in the bin with some bits of leftover chicken. Time passes, politicians come and go, vaccines are invented, distributed, mostly successful (with only a small amount of people instantly turning into tiny, angry lizards) and eventually the world passes through the danger period and back into something like normality! You, of course, miss this entirely and get on with your new hobby of writing subversive poetry on the walls in dollops of mouldy Marmite. Weirdly, you ARE happier.

Aquarius: Lockdown doesn’t seem to be getting to you too badly this month (whichever month it turns out to be). You did get to a bit of a peak when you were popping a Toblerone up your bum while playing kazoos just to get yourself ready for the next bloody Zoom meeting of the day, you now you’re limiting it to one bar per day and only using the two kazoos, you feel like you’ve hit your stride, found your flow, really made the most of every work-from-home hour the Lord sends. Ah, yes, the Lord truly has kept you to the virtuous path. Without your faith, you would never have got through the dark days. Sat there on his throne of Bourbons, wearing his Chocolate Finger crown. Slowly rotating on the lazy Susan you bought so you could efficiently respect His Majesty from any angle with a deft flick of the wrist (and a few Bourbons in the eyes if you get too excited). The mighty Lord. You assume his name was Lord. There were only a few letters you could read on the collar when you found him by the bins. Ah, yes. The bins. The biscuits. The Lord. The rapture. Amen.

Pisces: After popping to the door to bring in a food delivery, you notice the day looks quite pleasant for a change, pop a mask on and go for a nice walk. On the way back, you notice a ladder leant up against a tree, with a strange golden light shimmering from high in the branches. Climbing the ladder, you hear the sound of a party, people calling your name in joy, whistles and whoops, clapping and laughter. You tumble into the golden light and down a kind of shoot as a fanfare plays. The dazzling light fades, the noise abates gently and you are sat on your sofa. On the TV are the words “LEVEL 4: YODELLING GEESE”. The geese filling your living room immediately begin to yodel with anger.

---

By the sainted elbows of Bobby Tavistocke, we got there in the end. I may have been a little over-brutal with my use of the bum-hammer there, for which I apologise. Anyway, you have extracted your price once more and I have little left to give. Pick up your clothes and get out of my living room.

As usual, you may of course take a fairy cake. We’ve got the nice ones this week.

DEPART!

[smilexcaptainx]

Summary: In which a man who is looking for love crosses paths with a woman who despises it, or at least she tries to convince herself to.

Word Count: 1.1K

Tag list status: Open

Do you want to be on the Opening Up taglist? ASK HERE

Authors Note: Here is chapter three! I hope you enjoy!

Opening Up Masterlist

The rest of the breakfast wasn't as terrible as you expected. Chris was knowledgeable of your limits and knew what you wanted and didn't want to talk about. He knew that he wasn't close enough with you to ask you the questions he had bottled up inside. He wanted to make sure you were comfortable enough to bring up the topics. He was very considerate of your feelings and didn't want to drive you away.

At the moment, Chris was explaining the circumstance of the reasoning behind the entire random favor he asked of you to pursue. A ding rang from his phone out of the blue. He casually pulled it out, inhaling deeply as his eyes snaked across the message. You take one more bite out of your delicious sandwich while raising an eyebrow.

"What is it?" you ask, gently putting down your sandwich. "Please don't tell me that we're already on the celebrity news."

"Can you eat that sandwich on the way back to the set?" chris asked, sliding his phone back into his pocket. "We need to head back."

"But I thought you said—"

"Never mind what I said," chris interrupted, scooting outside of the booth. "we need to go."

You didn't question the man again and went with what he said. You and Chris take your drinks and food along with you, sincerely thanking the workers on the way out. They really helped out. As you walk out of the sandwich shop, Chris held his sandwich in his mouth and his drink in his arms while speedily texting back his friend. You stay silent on the way back to the car, hoping that you weren't recognized again. Shortly, you two made it to the car, completely unnoticed.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You crumple up the wrapped paper that was around the sandwich and climb out of the car, tossing it into the closest trash can. You use your tongue to feel around your top and bottom teeth, hoping that there wasn't any leftover pieces of food. You walk around the car and saw that Chris was dashing toward the set, acting as if he was late to something. You trail behind him and immediately notice the cast and crew wandering around the set, acting extremely flustered.

The director was snappy at everybody, surprising you the most. He never was this short-tempered with anyone. You watch Chris sharply turn the corner, keeping his head low like he was trying to avoid everyone. He sped off to his trailer, where he quickly entered and slammed the door shut.

"Where the hell are they?!" the director shouted loudly, throwing his hands in the air. He turned and suddenly became motionless as his eyes met with yours. His cold stare sent chills down your spine. "[Y/N]! THERE YOU ARE! WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?!" he bellowed angrily. "WHERE IS CHRIS!"

"Um, he went back into his trailer," you informed, confusingly pointing toward that direction. "we went out to breakfast this morning. You know? Because—"

You pause your words as the sound of a pan clattering on the ground caught your attention. As the director impatiently awaited for your explanation, you slowly walk around the corner, your eyebrows raising at the scene of your favorite chef's cleaning up their equipment.

"Wait...they were here?"

"Where else would they be?" the director exclaimed, looking just as confused as you were.  "Look [Y/N], I didn't know where you and Chris were this morning, nobody did, and that alarmed me. I apologize for snapping at you like that, I was just worried that some crazy fan kidnapped you two or something bad happened."

"I'm sorry sir," you apologize with a frown. "it won't happen again."

"Well, just make sure to let me know next time and I'll be a little more flexible," he compromised calmly. "I'll go get Chris and we can start off where we left off. I'm glad you two are safe."

The director patted you on the shoulder before walking past you and toward Chris's trailer. You cross your arms and stand there in contemplation. Why would Chris do that?

"Chris just wanted to take you on a date," a voice peeped out of the blue, as if he had read your mind. You turn around and saw that it was your other co-star, the one who played your other love interest in the movie. "I guess he lost track of time. I told him the specific time he needed to be back, but you two must have had a good time. You two were gone for two hours."

It certainly didn't feel like two hours, but apparently it was. Your friend chortled in amusement before walking off while sipping his coffee. He must have been the guy that Chris received the text from. You turn to face the trailer, wondering why the director has been in there longer than anticipated. You go off and head over to Chris's trailer. Once you arrive to his trailer, you walk up the stairs, but stop once you overhear Chris's loud voice through the door.

"I'm actually super excited, I just hope she'll say yes," chris declared hopefully. "I love her so much Mark. I truly do."

"Well, congratulations Chris, this is so exciting!" the director cheered. "I'll make sure to come to your wedding."

You had your ear pressed up against the door, and your heart was pounding rapidly. He was most definitely talking about you. Chris's voice gradually got louder, indicating that he was walking toward the door. You were quick on your feet and flew down the stairs and around the trailer, right before Chris came walking out with his director. You peek around the corner and wait until they departed before casually walking up to him.

"So we're actually doing this hm?" you ask, walking side by side with your friend. "Why make it public though?"

"Because if it's public, it'll be more likely to be believable," chris answered with a nonchalant shrug. "I'll do it tonight."

"Where are you going to take me to propose?"

"Only the most fanciest restaurant around," chris responded, lifting his phone screen up to your eyes. You fell completely white as the your eyes examined the title of the restaurant. "you can thank me later."

As Chris pulled his phone back to him, he instantly noticed your sudden paleness. He furrowed his eyebrows in worry.

"Whoa, are you okay [Y/N]?" chris fretted, positioning himself as if you were going to fall over. "I don't need to propose to you publicly if you don't want."

"No, it's fine," you reassure, shaking the agonizing thoughts out of your mind. "I um, I'm okay. Tonight, right?"

Chris stared at you in disbelief, and nodded hesitantly. "Yes, tonight [Y/N]."

🌠🌠🌠🌠🌠

Opening Up Taglist:

@shikshinkwon , @kelbabyblue , @icanfeelastormbrewing , @katiew1973 , @winchester-dean-o , @heyiamthatbitch , @straightforwardly , @gemgemswift , @iguessweallcrazyithinktho , @denisemarieangelina , @patzammit​

!! Tell me what you think about this chapter !!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Happy Together : 8

Patience

Character(s): (deceptively) dark!Steve

Warnings: this is a dark!fic, it contains non/dubious-consent elements. It goes without (and with) saying that this is 18+. [spanking]

Series Synopsis: The reader is stood up while awaiting a blind date, instead finding herself keeping company with the restaurant’s famous owner; Steve Rogers. After that night, she tries to forget her humiliation but she just can’t shake one thing about that night: him.

Masterlist

Chapter Summary: The reader tries to avoid her punishment.

Notes: So this is some angry ass Steve over here. He’s gonna get real freaky as we go one but it’s just a little at a time, you know? He’s a finely aged wine of madness.

Thanks to everyone who reads and as always, I looked forward to hearing from you in the replies/reblogs/tags/asks. <3

Dinner was pretty good. Even though your appetite was still stunted, you ate almost half your plate. You were even more on edge because of what Steve would eventually discover. You had smoothly ushered him past the shrouded window and he sat at the table, watching as you returned with filled plates, glasses, and cutlery. The meal passed rather quickly and you unveiled the caramel pudding cake you had meticulously cooked from memory. Your mother’s recipe. Maybe it was enough to keep him distracted for the night.

“Mmm,” He finished his square of cake, streaks of pudding lined the plate from his eager scraping. “Very good, dear. I’ve never had anything so scrumptious.” His eyes were hooded as he looked over at you, placing his hand palm up on the table in invitation. “Not yet, anyway.”

You caught his suggestion but merely breathed it away. You placed your hand in his, trying to keep your nerves from causing it to quake. His thumb ran across the back of your hand and he admired how big his was below yours. The difference made your eyes round. He was so strong. He was constantly reminding you of that.

“You should eat more, dear,” He said softly, “You make all this food and barely touch it. I can’t have you getting skinny.”

“I...had a big lunch,” You lied.

“Despite working at a restaurant, I barely got a chance for a coffee,” He bemoaned, shifting closer in his chair, “But I can’t complain. It pays for all of this.” He looked around, “For you, dear.” Your eyes flicked down and you swallowed back your protests. You had done just fine paying for yourself. You didn’t need to be kept like some caged bird. You fluttered your lashes and looked back up at him. He smiled, his chest rising and falling as if gathering courage. “And a little something else…”

He released your hand and reached into his jacket pocket. He hesitated before revealing his secret, the velvet ring box almost hidden by his fingers. He slid smoothly from his chair and you watched in shock as he knelt before you. He cleared his throat and you gripped your knees, trying not to faint. What was he doing? This man was truly crazy. You wanted to stand and flee but you remembered the window. Appease him and your punishment would not be so bad.

“Y/N, honey,” He took your hand again. You clenched your jaw, mortified at the scene before you. “I wish I could make this more special. I was trying to wait but...I got the ring today and seeing you like this,” He looked to your dress, “And everything’s so perfect, I just--I have to. I know that you’re the one for me.” He let go of you and opened the ring box, revealing a round pink diamond framed with smaller white ones on a white gold band. Holy shit! “Marry me?”

What other answer could you give him? Even if you hadn’t totally fucked yourself, you wouldn’t really be able to deny him. You had nowhere to go and he didn’t seem the type to handle rejection well. You touched your chest, your breath caught there as you tried to force it out. You reached for your glass of water and gulped deeply, Steve’s face was painted with impatience. He looked nervous even.

“Uh,” Your lip shook and you bit it to keep it still before finding your voice, “Y-y-yes.”

The acceptance hung in the air before you and you wished you could snatch it back. Steve took your finger and pushed the ring onto it smoothly. It fit perfectly. He held up your hand and marveled at the jewels as they sparkled in the light. Your eyes burned. Don’t cry, bitch.

“I love you,” He kissed your hand before rising halfway, stooping to kiss you as he did.

He held your jaw between his hands and pressed his lips to yours. You surrendered as he shoved his tongue in your mouth and placidly accepted his delusional affection. He parted reluctantly, his blue eyes stuck to you as if you were carved from diamond yourself.

“I have to wait.” He reminded himself in a whisper and rose, backing away repentantly. “Dear,” He spoke over his shoulder as he turned his back to you, arms crossed as if fighting himself, “Why don’t you clean up? I have a bit of work to do and I’ll...meet you in the bedroom.”

“O-okay,” Your voice crackled in the air. You stood and gathered the plates as he slowly approached the far door. He glanced back at you as he unlocked the handle, one last smile before he disappeared beyond. You stared at the door as it closed, shakily raising your hand to examine the ring. Fuck.

---

It didn’t take you long to tidy up. You wrapped up the leftovers and cleaned the dishes before wiping down the counters. As you replaced your ring on your finger you grumbled. You wanted to toss it down the sink but you suspected he wouldn’t believe it was an accident. You waited in the dining room for a while, hoping he’d return soon so you could get him into the bedroom before he noticed the window. You were much more willing to contend with him lovesick than agitated.

Nothing. A whole hour and he still hadn’t returned.

You relented and hoped he wouldn’t have the urge to pull back the curtains on his way in. You went into the bedroom and started your nightly ritual. Maybe if you fell asleep before he got to you...who were you kidding? You didn’t really sleep these days. The nighty you chose was of the shorter among the bunch; a pale cream colour which clung to your curves. Distract him, don’t entice him. You were already wary of his self-control.

You burshed your hair out at the vanity and tried to smile. You still couldn’t manage more than a strained grimace. You glided under the blankets and took the magazine from your night table. You tried to focus on the words of the article about organizing one’s closet by season but your nerves were wild. And then you heard him. 

The distant click of the dining room door, footsteps passing through the kitchen, you looked up as he was about to come into view of the bedroom door but he stopped. You heard the heels of his leather shoes as he neared the window, the telling metallic whine of the curtain on its rod. The top of the magazine shook. You threw it on the night table and curled up under the covers.

You heard the heavy sigh, almost a growl. Determined footsteps stopped just outside the bedroom. “Honey,” He called to you but you didn’t move. If you thought you asleep, maybe he’d let you be. A night would let his temper cool. He let out a deep breath. “I know you’re awake. Get up before I tear the blanket off of you.” Yep, he was most certainly angry.

Slowly, you pushed back the corner of the blankets. Your eyes met his as you sat up and turned your legs over the edge of the bed. His gaze fell to your body and the sleek nightgown, never looking away. You brought your hands together and reluctantly approached him, audibly gulping as you got closer. He grabbed your arm and pulled you through the doorway. In the kitchen, the broken screen awaited you and you hung your head.

“So…” His voice was dangerous. “What happened here?”

“I..I--” Your teeth were chattering in fear. “It was an accident.”

He chuckled. “Quite an accident. A lot of force behind it.” He let you go, his fingerprints burned on your skin. “Why would you do this?”

 You shook your head. No answer would come. It was all trapped inside of you. You felt as if you would suffocate. You touched the ring on your finger, tugging it to the knuckle but he stopped you.

 “Keep it on.” He ordered, “I love you, but you can’t act this way. Especially if you are to be my wife.” I don’t want to be your wife, you thought but remained silent. Your legs buckled slightly and you swayed. “Why, dear?” He stood before you, leaning down to look you in the eye, “Don’t you love me?” 

You searched his face. Beneath his anger, hurt broke through at your lack of an answer. It was too late to say yes now. Your hesitation was deadly. 

“I know you love me,” He swore, “I know it, but you must learn to share with me, dear. If our marriage is to work.” He stood straight, hands on his hips, “Put your hands on the counter.” He commanded and you flinched at the stone set in his tone. “Now!” He almost yelled, “Hands on the counter!” You moved to obey, placing your palms flat on the tile, “Stay.”

You looked over your shoulder as he retreated to the dining room once more. The door beyond opened and it was only a minute before he returned. Your eyes widened at the leather paddle in his hand, “Steve, please, don’t--”

“Quiet. Eyes forward,” He ordered, slapping the leather across his hand with a loud clap. “I didn’t want to do this. You understand?” He neared, his warmth looming behind you as the cold leather touched the back of your thigh. His hand went to your hip, inching your feet back so that you were at a slight angle, still clung to the counter. You were trembling uncontrollably. “You’re making me do this.”

He slid his fingers down and pulled up the skirt of your nightgown. He tugged down your panties sharply. You tried to move away and he smacked the paddle beside you on the counter. You froze as your panties dropped down your legs and he held the nighty just above your bare ass. You could hear his shaky breath. He shoved the paddle in the tight space between your thigh, pressing along your pussy before rescinding it.

“Please, don’t do this.” You begged.

“You’re lucky this is all you get,” He growled, positioning the paddle flat across your ass. He pulled back and you had no time to brace yourself for the first strike. You yiped and brought your hands back to grip the lip of the counter. “Palms flat,” He barked, “I told you. The more you disobey, the more you get. So don’t move, dear.” The last word was spoken so viciously it made your heart clench. You put your hands flat again. “I only do this,” He brought the leather down again, “Because I love you.”

He continued to spank you, pausing between each slap. Your body was buzzing after five and at ten you were sure you would collapse. Your cries had only gotten louder. Your ass stung but your faced burned hotter as the warmth was not just from the lashing. You could feel the arousal spreading along your thighs. This shouldn’t be exciting; it was humiliating.

He lowered the paddle and dripped it on the counter beside you. He pressed himself to your back, his rough hands against your ass as he caressed the tender flesh. 

“You love me.” He whispered in your ear. He pushed closer, his erection against you now. “You love me, don’t you?”

You didn’t dare to move. You closed your eyes and shuddered. He could do anything he wanted at that very moment. It was terrifying. “Yes…” The wisp slipped from your tongue. “I..love you.”

“I know,” He nuzzled your neck as his arms wrapped around you, “I’m done now, dear. Let’s not remember this night like this.” His hands ran along your arms, stopping just above your elbows and pulled you flush against him. He ground his pelvis into you and groaned. “You are tempting me, my dear.” He purred, he pushed so that your hips were crushed painfully against the counter. “We must wait.” He continued to rub himself against your ass, the thin fabric of his pants barely restraining his erection. “Until our wedding night.” Your eye popped open at his words. Wedding night? He really believed all this bullshit.

He grabbed your wrists and drew them together. He held them against the cupboard above your head. He didn’t stop grinding against you, your sensitive ass raw against his crotch. His breath picked up as he carried on, simulating sex as you stood helpless between him and the counter. You swore as you felt yourself growing wetter, his erection rubbing along your ass.

He let out a low moan and his rhythm died as he pressed against you firmly. His body twitched and he hung his head over your shoulder, his breath slowing. He released your wrists and caught your left hand. He toyed with the ring on your finger; admiring the light as it refracted off it.

“I forgive you.” He bent, leaning to kiss your cheek. He finally parted from you, keeping hold of your hand as he led you to the bedroom. “I’m going to shower,” He said as he let go of you. You could see the wet spot on the front of his pants but you couldn’t say if it had been him or you, or both. You looked away. “Go on and lay down.” He brought his hand up under your chin and tilted your head up as he bent to kiss you, “I won’t be long.”

+

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[likes-words-and-shrimp]

Left Unsettled

With Iselia under snowfall, Genis seeks out the friend he chose in the end.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters: Genis Sage, Lloyd Irving, Mithos Yggdrasill Rating: G Mirror Links: AO3 Notes: My submission for the @talessecretsanta​ event. A Happy Holidays to @ayu-ohseki! I loved the idea of the snow prompt, so I hope what I went with is okay with these characters! 

“We’re still friends, aren’t we?”

Genis hadn’t been prepared. The nights in Flanoir were cold, but exhilarating. He had told Raine he’d only be gone for a little while – maybe even get her a hot drink to help with the cold she was developing. Days didn’t last long in this part of Tethe’alla, the sun slinking away quickly as night crept forth. So he blamed the darkness on why he couldn’t recognize Mithos standing by the street corner, the lamppost so dim it barely did anything to illuminate the roads.

Genis had hesitated too long. “Of course we are.”

Perhaps that look had always been there in Mithos’ eyes, something hard and sharp, bringing forth a voice that was stripped bare of any texture that had once been so comforting to Genis. “Remember when I asked you before? If me and Lloyd were in a fight, whose side would you be on?”

If Genis were truly as smart as he claimed, he would’ve known just what to say. But again, his voice was dry, despite the damp snow that soaked his ankles. “But, you’re both my friends!”

Mithos scoffed. “It doesn’t work like that and you know it.”

“That’s not…” Genis continued to struggle. “It doesn’t make what I said any less true.”

“Yet as my friend, you would still go against me.” He stepped back. “Despite everything you’ve been through.”

“But I-”

“What have the humans ever done for us except treat us with ridicule? What makes Lloyd any different? He who has never been discriminated against in his life?”

“Stop it!” Genis shouted, before wincing at the loudness of his voice. The snow made everything so quiet, he felt as if the whole town must have heard. “Just please, listen to me.”

Mithos refused. He had already disappeared before Genis could say another word.

.

.

.

The weathers in Sylvarant had never been so hectic. Rainstorms took over Asgard instead of bright windy days, and Triet’s sands were sometimes sleeked over with ice, especially as night fell. People adapted however, as they had adapted to the sudden new world that had appeared right next to them.  

Genis looked up to the sky, wide-eyed as the first snowflakes started to fall onto the Iselian forest. He hadn’t expected this to happen, in spite of everything, and was regretting that he didn’t just take a rheiard. As long as the snowfall didn’t get as intense as in Flanoir…

He was at Lloyd’s house before the snow could pile up, but already there was a fine powder of white on its roof. His boots crunched against the building snow banks, and he watched curiously as some of the flakes drifted onto the river’s surface. Goosebumps raised over his skin, no matter how much he tried to rub his arms to stay warm.

He didn’t see Noishe in his usual shed, and figured the dwarf took pity on the animal to find some indoor warmth.

He had been over Lloyd’s home so many times over the years that he rarely needed to announce himself or even ask to be let in. The door opened easily, unlocked as it was during the day. The heat from inside instantly took away his chill.

“Ah, Genis! Good to see ya during this mighty crazy weather we be having.”

Dirk was as familiar a sight to him as Lloyd himself, the dwarf looking busy as he cradled some kindling in his arms. Much of the wood looked damp, and he pictured Dirk having gone outside as soon as the first snowflake had fallen. Off in one corner of the living room was Noishe, nose covered by his bushy tail as he slept all curled up.

“If I had known it was going to be snowing, I would’ve just stayed home.” Still, Lloyd had promised him that they would meet today. Between the constant barrage of questions from the other children back in Iselia to Lloyd getting ready for the Exsphere journey, there wasn’t that much time left they had.

“Aye, we haven’t had a good and proper winter for nigh on a century. Was probably about Lloyd’s age since I’ve seen such a storm.” Dirk took the cut wood over to the furnace, not at all mindful of any splinters that must have pricked his bare arms. “Well, just sit tight and I can brew up some hot tea for ya. I even have some leftovers from last night’s dinner if you’re hungry.”

While Dwarven Potluck Surprise sounded good, Genis couldn’t really find the stomach for it today. “Thanks, Dirk. But I think I’m just gonna go talk with Lloyd. Is he out back doing chores or something?” The young boy couldn’t help but smirk at the idea of his friend trying to lug around a raft-full of logs for the house, probably complaining every step of the day, or being bored somehow.

The dwarf shook his head. “Thought I could give the lad a bit of a break for now. Usually I’d be making him do his morning chores, but after his heroic deeds, I figured he deserves a little rest.”

Genis considered Dirk’s words, sobering him up quickly. The idea of Lloyd doing menial labor was still a bit funny in his head and yet… “That’s very kind of you. Lloyd did work really hard… How long as he been sleeping?”

Dirk put on a considering expression. “About 10 hours give or take.”

“Ah.” Genis paused. “But it’s almost noon.”

“That it is.”

Genis cleared his throat. “Excuse me please.”

Immediately, Genis walked up the stairs of Lloyd’s home, found his door, then knocked hard on it.

“Hey! Get your butt up right now!”

What he heard next was the sound of something heavy fall to the floor with a loud thump.

“Ow! Damn it!”

Genis took no pity, and kept knocking. “Lloyd!”

It still took Lloyd too long to get himself up and open the door. His clothes were wrinkled and he had the worst case of bedhead that Genis had ever seen. “Agh, why do you have to yell? I was sleeping!”

“That’s exactly why I woke you up, stupid! Did you already forget why I’m here?”

“Uh.” Lloyd blinked. Genis could see the gears work in the other’s head to a painful, painful degree. “Wait. Oh! Yeah, uh, I didn’t forget! Give me a break, I just woke up!” Lloyd then rubbed his shoulder a little frantically. “Man, why’s it so cold?”

It was enough to make Genis sigh. “Lloyd, just get dressed and meet me outside. And don’t go back to sleep. Not even for five minutes!” He was being too mean, but his thoughts were so frantic today and he needed Lloyd to be aware. “It won’t take long anyway.”

Lloyd seemed to understand him, at least with that. “Alright, I’ll be out.” He shivered visibly. “But seriously, why’s it so cold?”

Genis had to resist the urge to facepalm.

Of course, Lloyd was completely flabbergasted at the snow that fell all around his house. Dirk had lent the two a pair of cloaks that they could wear over their clothes. The lining was thick, with fur stitched on the inside to keep them warm. Genis hugged the cloak tight, knowing the dwarf wouldn’t mind if he took it all the way home, yet still feeling a bit guilty for it.

“Wow, it’s just like back in Flanoir!” Lloyd walked up to the makeshift bridge over the river, scraping his boot against its surface to see if it was too slippery to cross. They both remained on his front yard, the world feeling so silenced as the snow continued to fall all around them.

“Iselia hasn’t been exposed to this kind of environment since it’s usually so warm.” Genis walked up to Lloyd, eyeing both river and bridge. “But now that the other summon spirits’ powers have been released, Efreet is no longer the only one that has influence over this area. And Celsius seems to not really like Efreet either…”

Lloyd turned. “What, so she’s doing this to piss him off or something?”

Genis huffed. “More like a demonstration of her power. At least showing Efreet he’s not the only relevant summon spirit anymore.”

Lloyd tilted his head. “…Still sounds like she’s just doing it to piss him off to me.”

“Forget it.” Genis looked at the ground, watching the footprints he made. They looked small compared to Lloyd’s, watching their path entwine around the other as they had walked from the house. “But with the winter so sudden, this could affect the crops back in Iselia. It could even alter the ecosystem we have, especially for animals that aren’t used to the drop in temperature. This could really mess things up.”

“Oh… well…” Lloyd considered, forehead scrunched in thought. “Maybe we can talk to Sheena about it? Have her summon Celsius and ask-”

Genis ran off suddenly, going across the bridge with not a step out of place.

“H-hey! Genis! Wait up!”

Back when he first visited Flanoir, Genis had been so excited over the snow, running through the streets, not caring how his clothes were not enough to keep him from being sick. But that was before, and now, he felt like he had gotten so much older in such a short time. It all felt so immature to be excited at this much snow. Not when one considered the effects it could have to a home he had grown to love, then hated, then loved again when he was accepted back. Gaining back the acceptance of the humans had made him so happy.

And he felt guilty for it.

.

.

.

The flower field that Genis and Mithos had found had been a far-reaching sea of white. It reminded Genis of the snow back in Flanoir, the way the wind blew up the pale petals to swirl all around them like snow flurries. But they had defeated the monsters that had blocked their way up the mountain path, and both boys were able to revel in their success, walking among the field as petals fell into their hair.

“You really know so much about herbs, Mithos!” Genis had praised his friend. “Now we can cure Raine!”

“I’m glad.” Mithos smiled, standing off to the side as his eyes went elsewhere. “She’s your only family, isn’t she? It’s important to take care of each other.”

Genis gathered what flowers he could, careful not to crinkle the petals or twist the stems as he plucked them. “Yeah. I’ve been with Raine forever. She’s always taken care of me.”

“…My sister was the same,” Mithos whispered. “She was all the family I had, too.”

The tone made Genis pause. Mithos had never spoken to him at length about his sister, besides the memento he carried.

“She took care of me when our own parents refused. She watched out for me when we had to sleep out in the open. Even in a world where everyone hated us, she made me feel less alone.”

Mithos walked up to Genis to then sit on the soft grass. He was careful in his motions, choosing a spot where no flowers would be crushed. The wind grew stronger, continuing to make the petals dance around them. “Once, she got very sick; from staying up too late and keeping watch, or speaking with the few humans that didn’t turn us away. It was still only us traveling together and I knew she went through so much stress. I had no one else to turn to when it happened. I had to get the herbs she needed myself.”

Genis sat with him, watching the petals float before his eyes.

“I was only able to do that because she had taught me about the flowers in the first place. I owe everything to her. Everything.”

Because of what Mithos was telling him, Genis felt touched. To know not only another half-elf his age, but also one who had a sister that was dear to him. Yet guilt still filled him, because Genis knew he was luckier than Mithos. Raine was still alive.

“I hate humans,” Mithos said suddenly, a comment that Genis knew would have shocked most of his friends. But all he felt was something familiar, something understandable. “They took everything away from me.”

“I hate humans, too,” Genis confessed, still holding his gathered flowers gently. “But, there are humans like Lloyd who aren’t too bad. And I know he wants to help you, too!”

Mithos didn’t answer right away. Instead he kept looking to the sky, the night very chill. “Genis, if me and Lloyd got into a fight, whose side would you be on?”

“Huh?”

“You and Lloyd get along so well. But what if… we didn’t agree on something? Whose side would you pick?”

The answer back then had been easy to Genis.

“Well, Lloyd would probably fight about something dumb, I’m sure, so I guess yours!”

That was enough to get Mithos back to smiling. “Really?”

“Yeah. Because we’re friends!”

.

.

.

Genis didn’t have to wait long for Lloyd to find him. He sat at the foot of an overhanging oak, its left side so bent over with snow that its burden looked ready to fall at any moment. He didn’t care whether it did. Once he could hear Lloyd’s footsteps crunching against the snow, he decided to open his eyes.

“Genis! The hell you do that for?” Lloyd panted out the words, unprepared for the chase he had to embark on today. “I thought you wanted to talk or something!”

“Yeah,” Genis simply answered. He looked unimpressed at Lloyd, hands on his knees as he continued to try and catch his breath. “How are you that tired already? I’m not the one who walks and runs around all day like you do!”

“Shut it! I told you I just woke up!” Lloyd brushed away the snow that tried to cling to his hair. “And the snow makes it harder to run!”

Genis laughed, almost unsure as to why Lloyd’s frustrations seemed to cheer him up so much. Maybe because he knew Lloyd wasn’t actually mad. If he had been, he wouldn’t have bothered running after Genis at all.

“Well, I still wanted to talk with you. I just wanted to do it here. It’s better scenery!”

It really wasn’t that much different from the other areas of the forest, except perhaps without the sight of Lloyd’s house. The trees were packed thicker around here, their boughs taking the weight of the fallen snow, leaving the grass beneath them mostly bare.

Lloyd, still with a confused look on his face, sat down next to Genis with a satisfying motion, glad to give his feet some rest.

“Alright. Well, what was so important that we had to go out in the middle of nowhere basically? And wake me up early?”

It wasn’t early at all! Genis wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come. He fiddled with the cloak. He had made Lloyd wait too long, but still.

“Did you ever try getting them back?”

That of course just brought him more questions.

“Them? Who are they?”

“I mean, not them as in people. I mean, like, your wings! Remember?”

Genis suddenly wondered if Lloyd might not actually remember. How awkward this would be.

“Oh yeah! Hm, well, Colette was teaching me how to summon them for a little while.” Lloyd looked nervous at that. “I, uh, it didn’t really go well. I’m not even sure I can anymore.”

Genis wondered.

“Eh, it’s not like I need them anyway. Why you ask though?”

“It was because of Mithos, wasn’t it?”

Lloyd didn’t answer, and that was good. It gave Genis the space he needed to keep going, here in this place, where the snow masked sound. Maybe it swallowed away the hard beating in his chest.

“When you broke his crystal, I saw it go into your Exsphere. I saw… him. He helped you in the end, didn’t he? Or at least his power? That means he must have understood by then, right? That it’s all okay still?”

“Genis-”

“I never stopped being his friend, you know.” Genis kept unloading more than he wanted to, and suddenly he was no longer mature, or older, or anything like that. He still felt like he was just a stupid twelve-year old, still relying on the adults to take care of him. “Even after what he did to you, and Colette, and everyone else, he was still my friend. And I wanted him to stay my friend forever.”

He was not blaming Lloyd, or maybe he was. But what did that say of him when in the end, he couldn’t help someone who suffered so much?

“I wanted to save him, too.” He felt Lloyd’s eyes on him, just barely seeing it out of his peripheral vision. But the snow was easier to bear.

What makes Lloyd any different? He who has never been discriminated against in his life?

“Lloyd, how come you went out of your way to be my friend?”

“Huh?” Genis couldn’t blame him this time for the confusion. The change in topic had been deliberate. The thoughts in his head wouldn’t stop – not unless he addressed all of them as fast as he could.

“You were already friends with Colette, so why bother with me? I wasn’t even close to your age at all!”

“Well… you helped me out with my homework that one time! So I thought you were just a cool kid.”

“Great. So you were just using our friendship to help your failing grades!”

“No way! Not just that!” That made both of them laugh, and suddenly it was easier to speak, to be more comfortable in the snow, warmed by their cloaks. “I mean… you were always sitting alone at lunch, but you always talked so smart in class. Couldn’t really understand why no one was willing to talk with you.”

“Come on, Lloyd.” Genis rolled his eyes. “You know why.”

“…I guess, but… that was dumb! And I wanted to be your friend anyway. Not many wanted to talk to me either.”

“I know. Just, even when I said I was an elf, people still looked at me weird.” The silence was coming back, prompting Genis to find the words he’d hidden away for a long time. “You’re different, Lloyd. I don’t think Mithos could understand that, not until…” Something clogged his throat. “I’m being such a baby.”

“But you’re not!”

“I just… I don’t know.” Genis wiped at his eyes. It stung more than he thought it would. The icy air was too much. Would Iselia ever be warm again? “Mithos still looked so sad last time. It was the real him after everything else – not even Yggdrasil. I want to believe he understood finally, but I know I’m just being stupid.”

“No, because… I don’t think you’re wrong!”

There it was. A confirmation of whatever little hope he had. He turned to Lloyd, surprised to see that the other actually seemed confident as to what he was saying. The snow no longer fell on his hair, the tree they sat under shielding them well.

“I really think Mithos helped me. And… I think at least he’s beginning to understand. That’s why we have to do all we can, you know? That a world like this can still continue to exist, and that no one has to suffer anymore. We need to still show him that!”

“Wait,” Genis interrupted. “Still?”

“Ah… yeah.” Lloyd then looked a little embarrassed, one gloved hand scratching his scalp. “Like, I believe he was with me when me and Colette went to get back the seed, but I don’t think he disappeared after that. I can take you to see him and Martel later if you want!”

Genis had to make sense of Lloyd’s ramblings. He tended to go off in tangents that made little sense to him but sometimes the most sense to Colette. Yet Genis wasn’t sure how much he wanted to know, though he hazarded a guess here and there.

“You named it, didn’t you?” Genis asked.

Lloyd nodded. “It seemed to fit, after everything.”

Even after so much time together, Lloyd continued to surprise him.

“I still have to pack up and all, but maybe we can make a pit stop there if the Professor doesn’t mind? And as long as we promise Martel not to reveal the tree’s location, it should be good!”

“Seriously?” Genis started at his friend, hard. “You’re serious, right?”

“Of course I am. I wanted to take everybody there someday, but I think it’s important you see it first.” Lloyd turned to him with a big grin. “What do you say?”

Immediately, Lloyd was met with a snowball to the face.

“Agh!” He fell on his side, while Genis stood, grinning in the smuggest way he could. Sure, maybe he could give one to Zelos this time. He really could be a brat when he wanted to.

After wiping his face, Lloyd looked around frantically at the ground, where the grass was still bare of most snow underneath the tree. “Where’d you even get that?!”

Genis laughed. “Ice magic, dummy!” The mana was strong. No longer did he feel like he was trying to catch as much as he could through a sieve. The snow exemplified it, of Celsius’ power. But in the background, he could feel Efreet’s fire, ready to melt away the ice so that the forest could breathe. The world could only get better if everyone worked together, whether they be mortal or not.

“Oh yeah?” Lloyd quickly got up, going to the side to gather a huge bundle of snow in both hands, already packing it tightly. “This time, no cheating!”

They had done this in Flanoir, too. The snow had been fresh and falling. While the adults had retreated to the inn, both Lloyd and Genis both decided to discover all that the snow could offer them. Genis’ lungs had been burning with cold, just like now, but he hadn’t wanted to stop running. Lloyd could have acted all mature and stayed away, and sometimes, Genis could see the thought in Lloyd’s eyes, especially when he wanted to show off to Colette. But it was nice when they could both just act stupid, falling over steps and scraping their knees as they tried to pelt each other with snowballs.

The forest didn’t feel so silent with them shouting their heads off, probably enough for even Dirk to hear far off. A sneaky snow boulder that caught Genis at the shoulder, then a fistful of snow that Lloyd accidentally caught with his mouth – it was all so really dumb. But that was what Genis needed, and he might as well enjoy until the ice melted away the next day.

You’re my best friend, Lloyd, he had told him once. He should have said it again, but he figured Lloyd must have known, after everything.

.

.

.

“Wow! You’re amazing, Genis! You got rid of that monster!”

“Whoa, I did?” Genis asked, the hand gripping his kendama still shaking.

Mithos nodded, his face a little pale from the scare they had endured. “One of your fireballs must have hit it! Thank you.”

“Aw, it was no problem for a genius mage like me!”

However, as they turned to go, Genis heard a sound, like someone tripping over the uneven ground.

“Damn it.” Then nothing, like a held breath.

He didn’t say anything, still walking alongside Mithos. But Lloyd had never been the stealthiest of the bunch (not with such a bright outfit and heavy weapons like that), and it wasn’t too hard for Genis to sneak glances and see a familiar patch of red through the grass or just peeking from a nearby boulder.

He was sure Mithos must have known, too.

Genis wondered, after their conversation, if Mithos ever resented Lloyd for tagging along with them, making sure none of the monsters ever did serious harm. Not like Genis ever thought he couldn’t handle it. He was only getting better with his magic after all, and Tethe’alla’s vast reservoir of mana only made his spells that much easier to grasp. Still, he was comforted with Lloyd at his back. How many other humans could he say the same of?

“Ow!” He heard a sharp clunk – Lloyd must have hit his head on a rock. Genis winced.

He caught a flash of sharp blue, from Mithos. “We should hurry. Raine’s condition could worsen if we don’t.”

“Yeah.” Genis rushed a little faster, knowing Lloyd could keep up the pace.

“Besides, it feels like it’s getting even more cold.” Mithos walked evenly, back to Genis. “It might even snow.”

Genis said nothing else, walking after his friend ahead, while his other kept him guarded from whatever else could be lurking behind.

He really hoped Lloyd and Mithos could be good friends after all this. Perhaps it was selfish, considering what they were all trying to achieve, and what the world was going through, but he hoped for nothing else.

[nandireya]

More Than Life ~ Chapter Three

Dedicated to my sweet vampire and adorable kitsune without whom I wouldn't be here. If you enjoy my creative contributions to this fandom, you owe them much gratitude. Love you, ladies ^_^

“This is a very bad idea.” Keith grumbled under his breath. The quartet of unlikely travelling companions had come to a stop when they found that could go no further in the direction they had chosen. The forest had come to a sudden end where the trees had grown up to a hidden cliff. It wasn’t a particularly high precipice, an easy enough climb down for even the smallest among them, though risky for Palgan. Keith could probably find a way down for the horse if he wanted to. IF he did. But he didn't. Below them they could see a road, broad and clear and obviously well travelled. And the young Blade always steered well clear of such thoroughfares. He had been a wanted man long before he’d shown himself in Garsiwn. Haxus would no doubt have reported to his masters by now, the Galra would be out in force, hunting him down for their prince. The patrol they’d encountered the night before was proof of that. He had avoided several more during the day that the others hadn’t even been aware of. And he could hear the voices and the laughter, he could smell the food and the ale as easily as they could. He knew the area, he knew the road. He knew of the tavern just around the bend. He had visited it in the past. One of the young ladies who worked there was sweet and sympathetic. Keith had run out of money a long time ago but she would often pass some of the day old bread to him. But now was not the time for a visit. The sun had already touched the horizon, the change would be upon him soon. He could already feel it in his bones. Of course he wasn’t the only one that was aware of how close they were to civilisation. Lance was all but bouncing up and down on the spot at the prospect of meeting some ladies, Hunk’s eyes had glazed over at the thought of a proper meal. “What’s so bad about it?” Lance asked. “Some good food, some cold ale, some feminine company and a proper bed for the night? Sounds pretty close to heaven after all this wandering in the woods and sleeping on the ground and run ins with Galra and monsters and mysterious ladies and everything.” “It’s been one night!” Pidge snapped. “But proper food…” Hunk sighed dreamily. “No offence.” He looked at Keith and his arced eyebrow. “The venison was great, but…gravy…cream…pudding…” “Come, my friends. Ignore Sir Downer, here.” Lance draped a companionable arm over Hunk and Pidge’s shoulders. “Let us eat and drink until our bellies are full. And then…” He pointed a finger dramatically to the darkening sky. “There’s wenching to be done!” “Yeah.” Pidge backed her way out from under Lance’s arm. “I think I'll stay here. Keep Keith company.” Lance shrugged. “Your choice.” He turned to Hunk. “More for us.” Pidge watched as the pair made their way down to the road before turning to Keith. He was walking towards Palgan, his shoulders slightly drooped. He hadn't said exactly why visiting the tavern was a bad idea, but it was obvious that he meant it. His concern for the two equally so. He sighed as he gently stroked the bird’s feathers. “You’re not even going to try to stop them?” She asked. “Even if I had the time…” He glanced upwards, the sky had grown quite dark. “…they’re adults. They can make their own choices.” He walked around Palgan, putting the horse between them. He unbuckled his sword and lay it gently on the ground. His blade soon followed. “Yeah.” Pidge agreed. “But it’s pretty clear you-“ She broke off as he began to remove his armour. “Ah…” Her cheeks flushed and she spun away as he continued to undress. “What are you doing?” “Do you think my armour magically disappears when I transform?” “Oh.” Her eyes widened. “I hadn’t thought of that.” She admitted. “So does…” She frowned, turning to address him, catching a brief glimpse of an ugly scar on his now bare right shoulder, filing away her curiosity as to how he got it for later inquiry, as she forgot for a moment what he was doing and quickly turned away again. “Does your lady have a name?” She asked. “Well, of course she has a name.” She back peddled. “It’d be crazy to think she doesn’t have a name. It’s just, if I'm gonna be spending the evening talking to her and everything, it’d be easier…” “Allura.” His voice when he so softly spoke her name gave her chills. So full of love and sorrow, of hope and despair. She turned to look at him, not caring that he was probably naked now. Palgan was providing a perfectly efficient modesty screen anyway. Those same emotions were reflected in his eyes. He held her gaze for a moment before turning to the bird. To Allura, she corrected herself. “She’ll be needing these.” He said as he lay several piece of clothing across the horse’s back. Pidge lowered her eyes as he touched the bird gently one more time. When she looked back up he was gone. “I’ll see you in the morning.” She whispered to the trees. ~~~~~~ Lance strode into the tavern like he was a beloved regular, resting his elbows on the bar as he turned to survey the establishment with a smug smile. Hunk moved more cautiously. There were a lot of large, scary looking people that he didn't really want noticing him. Lance, being Lance, didn’t seem to care about them. He only noticed the young ladies. “Is there something you would like me to get for you?” Hunk almost jumped out of his skin. He’d been so busy being wary of the tavern patrons he hadn’t heard the barmaid’s approach. “My apologies.” The softly accented voice continued. “It was not my intention to startle you.” Hunk turned to find the speaker smiling at him. She was as tall as he was and solidly built. She wasn’t conventionally beautiful but her face was still very appealing. Her eyes, somewhere between green and gold, seemed to almost glow. Or maybe that was some trickery of her beaming smile. Her hair was mostly hidden by a headscarf, whether that was a requirement of her position as server or a personal preference, he couldn’t tell. A pair of large, hoop earrings framed her face. Overall, it was a face Hunk found he liked looking at and he couldn’t help but smile back. “Ah…yeah…um…” He stumbled over his words as he struggled to find his voice. He was stating, wasn’t he? Yeah, definitely staring. “My friend and I..." “I fear your companion has become distracted.” She told him. He followed her gaze. Lance had slid along the bar and was now chatting with a pretty young thing with wide blue eyes and long blonde hair. “Typical.” Hunk muttered. “Perhaps you would like to sample some of our fare while you await your friend’s return?” She suggested. “I can vouch for the steak and kidney pie. I made it myself.” “You made it?” He grinned. “Now I gotta try it.” Hunk hadn't though it possible, but her smile grew even wider. “I’m Hunk.” He said, offering his hand. “Shay.” She returned. ~~~~~~ Pidge had started a fire, putting on some of the leftover venison to heat for dinner, before settling down to watch the sunset. Allura had watched her quizzicality through the entire process. Pidge had to wonder just how much the woman she was about to become would remember of what the bird saw. Something else to file away to ask later. Keith and Allura certainly seemed to be aware of each other when in their animal forms, but how much did that extend to the people around them? Keith hadn’t come after them last night but was that because he recognised them or because Allura had stopped him? There was so many questions she wanted to ask them, but, would they want to be asked? She tried to put herself in their place. She’d never been in love, but, to always be together though never able to speak to each other, to hold each other, to even look upon the other’s face. Not to mention all the other things that came with being in love that was denied them. It must be a living nightmare for both of them. But then, a curse wasn’t meant to be rainbows and sunshine. She had to wonder who had cursed them. Why they had been cursed. What crime could they have possibly committed to have been burdened with such torment? Given his desire to see the prince dead she assumed Lotor had to be involved somehow. He was a notorious ladies man, so she guessed Allura had something to do with it too. Had the prince actually fallen for her and grown vengeful when she’d chosen Keith instead? Her curious mind wondered so much about their situation. How long had they been under the curse? Did it hurt when they changed? She had learned the bit about the clothes, though. It made so much sense she was surprised she hadn’t thought about that. She might learn more over time just travelling with them, and as much as she wanted to know, she felt that was probably the best way to do so. She didn’t want to pry, didn’t want to add to their sorrows. As the last sliver of light slipped behind the horizon she heard the bird ruffle her feathers. She heard a rustle of fabric. Then the hiss of metal against metal. Her eyes widened. She sprang to her feet and spun to face the woman, her eyes drawn briefly to Keith’s blade in her hand. She hadn't gotten a very good look at her the previous evening. It had been dark and they’d all been terrified. But now that she could see her properly she truly was a stunning beauty. Though, it was hard to decide which was more beautiful, her or Keith. She’d probably give Allura a slight edge. She was certainly more exotic. And there was a refined air about her that he lacked, even when she'd was brandishing a knife. But the look in her eyes, so haunted, so distrustful. It was a perfect match to Keith’s. “It’s alright, Allura.” She said, swallowing hard, holding her hands out in an effort to calm the other woman. “I’m Pidge. A friend of Keith’s.” Allura cocked her head to one side in an eerie imitation of the bird. Though the suspicion drained from her form as she heard both her name and his. “Really?” Her voice was skeptical, her expression though, was somehow playful. “Keith doesn't have friends.” She lowered her eyes. “At least not anymore.” Pidge nodded. Given his past, all he’d lost, if she’d been in his place she’d be reluctant to make bonds too. “You were there last night.” Allura realised. “With two others. The cautious one, and the one who was foolish enough to think he could take on three Galra under the cover of darkness.” “Yeah.” Pidge confirmed with a smile. If she was going to earn her trust she felt it best to be honest with her, offer her information about herself. “I sort of invited myself along on Keith’s quest. The Galra took my family. My father, my mother, my brother. I’m surprised he let me stay to be honest.” “Family means a lot to him.” Allura said softly. “And the others…” She sighed. “They kinda took me in. Decided to look out for me like overprotective big brothers. And I look out for them. There’s little we won’t do for each other. Lance, the foolish one, I think he’s looking to make a name for himself by going on a daring crusade. And Hunk, I'm pretty sure he’s mostly here to make sure Lance survives.” “If you’re all so protective of each other, where are they now?” Allura questioned. “They went to the tavern.” Pidge sighed. “Drinking and wrenching.” “You didn't want to join them?” She asked. “I’m not a big drinker. And I'm certainly not into wrenching.” She snorted, a slight hint of bitterness in her tone. “Besides, I didn’t want you to wake up alone.” “That’s awfully sweet of you.” Allura said as she sat down beside her. “But I have a feeling that’s not the only reason you declined to accompany them.” She smiled. Pidge looked at her, confused. “No one knows better than I the pain of a love that cannot be returned.” ~~~~~~ Lance laughed loudly waking Hunk from where he was beginning to doze off at something the girl he was currently chatting with had said. She wasn’t the same girl he’d been cozying up to before Hunk’s eyelids had drooped, he noticed. He glanced over to where Shay was cleaning up some pottery goblets, wishing he had his friend’s prowess, or at least confidence. Shay noticed him looking at her and smiled. Hunk felt his cheeks explode into flames. “Smooth, Hunk.” He muttered to himself. “Real smooth.” With a sigh he rose and headed towards his friend. The crowd had thinned considerably as the evening wore on, only a handful of scary looking patrons remained. It was well and truly time for them to head back to camp. He wanted to check on Pidge. Not that he didn't trust Keith around her, he was a Blade of Mamora, a truly honourable man. He didn't trust him to be there for her at all. He’d disappeared entirely last night, setting traps or hunting or something else or other. What if he’d done the same again leaving Pidge all alone with only a horse and a bird for company and protection? Hopefully he could talk her into returning with him to get some proper sleep in a proper bed. “Lance?” He said in an effort to get the other’s attention. “I think it’s time we-“ “Hunk! Buddy!” Lance said brightly. “Have a seat! Have a drink!” He gestured towards his new lady friend, a beautiful redhead with large, dark eyes. “Meet Florona. She’s come all the way from the coast.” He leaned in close, hiding his mouth behind his hand as he whispered. “I totally think she’s a mermaid. She’s so pretty…” “Exactly how much have you had to drink?” Hunk frowned. “Hello, boys.” A voice interrupted before Lance could answer. There was something familiar about it, but Hunk couldn’t quite place it. He looked to his friend, noticing how the colour had drained from his face. Hunk turned slowly to face the speaker. If the voice had been only vaguely familiar, there was no mistaking the face. It was the Galra Keith had battled back home. What had he called him? Nexus? Flaxus? Haxus! That was it. “Long way from Garsiwn.” Hunk shifted into a defensive stance but found himself forced into the seat Lance had suggested he take by a pair of overly large Galra soldiers. “So where’s your surly friend?” Haxus asked. “About yea high.” He put his hand out at roughly Keith height. “Dressed in black.” The pair exchanged a nervous glance. “No idea who you’re talking about.” Lance said, the height of innocent. “We’re not going to play this game are we?” Haxus snorted as he rolled his eyes. “We know you’re travelling with that filthy little half-breed. He may be good at covering his tracks but you lot aren’t.” He spread his arms to gesture at their surrounding. “I mean, seriously, a tavern? Not exactly low profile. You really should have kept to the woods.” He nodded to the men holding Hunk. They slammed him hard against the table, twisting his arms to bind him. Hunk would never be sure exactly what caused it, maybe he’d had enough of the Galra pushing people around, maybe it was the fear he could see on Lance’s, or maybe it was because Shay was watching. But something snapped. For the first time in his overly cautious, overly wary, pacifist life, he fought back. Even without his arms to provide him leverage he used his impressive upper body strength to force himself upright. A quick struggle with the two Galra and he’d ripped his arms free from their grasp. He elbowed one in the stomach, twisted in place and punched the other squarely in the face. Fists up, he turned to face the rest of them. With a sigh, Haxus stomped down on the side of Hunk’s leg, just below the knee. There was a resounding crack almost lost in the sound of Hunk’s agonised shriek. The highly trained Galra soldier spun, his other foot connecting with the big man’s midsection sending him sailing across the room and into the bar. He impacted with the solid wooden structure hard, his head bouncing off the upper edge. He slid to the ground with a groan. “NO!"Lance and Shay shouted in unison. The serving girl shot around the bar dropping to her knees beside Hunk’s still form, pulling him into her arms, gently cradling his head. She pulled one hand out slowly to stare at the dark, sticky liquid that coated it. Lance surged to his feet when he saw his friend’s blood. “You son of a-“ Haxus drew his sword, pointing it directly into Lance’s face, causing the smaller man to lean back slightly to avoid being skewered by its sharp tip. “You want to play hero, too?” He arced a brow. “It worked so well for your friend.” Lance glared daggers at the hateful man but didn’t move. “Why are you doing this?” Shay asked, tearing her eyes briefly away from Hunk’s pinched face. “They are no threat to you.” “True.” Haxus admitted with a smirk at the grieving girl. “But you can’t set a trap without bait.” “He barely knows us.” Lance growled. “What makes you think he’ll trade his freedom for ours?” Haxus turned back to him, smirk firmly in place. “You better hope he will.” He turned his attention to his men. “Take them outside.” Two hauled Hunk mostly upright, shoving Shay roughly aside to do so. Hunk let out a low groan, biting his lower lip in an effort to keep himself from expressing his real pain for their twisted amusement. His eyes slid towards Lance, glad to see the small amount of relief on the other’s face when he realised his friend was alright, or conscious at the very least. Lance’s arm was twisted painfully up his back as another Galra pulled him from his seat and shoved him towards the door. He sighed. Keith had been right. This HAD been a very bad idea.

[wr1t3-my-wr0ngs]

Farewell, Chapter 2/2

It's a year before he sees her again.

The farm grows slowly, but as Lothal recovers and the Galaxy needs less and less resistance help to remove the remaining Imperial presence, Rex is able to spend more time with his hands in the soil.

He's planting Biituian Orange trees (they won't produce fruit for another three years, and the thought that he may never see their first harvest is not lost on him) when he hears a shuttle land by the house.

Wiping sweat from his brow and dust from his hands, Rex stands and makes his way over to greet his visitor.

Despite the cloak and their back being to him, Rex's heart jumps at the sight of Montrals beneath the grey fabric. When she turns, he can't help the smile that stretches across his face.

She smiles back, in a way he can't remember her doing since she was still a padawan: open and joyous and carefree.

One day becomes two, becomes a week, becomes a year.

She stays in fits and bursts, at first in the spare room, her things packed away neatly ready to be collected at a moments notice, the job of a Jedi never truly done. Over time they spread out; a toothbrush in the bathroom, her preferred blend of caf in the cupboards, until it eventually becomes her sabers next to his their bed, her armor by the bedroom door, his head tucked under her chin as they lay together beneath light sheets in the heat of a summer night.

It's not perfect; she has her duties; he has his. They argue and they fight, learn each others edges and curves in this new domestic world, learn to fit together as Rex and Ahsoka, not Captain and Commander.

On days when she doesn't have to go, when the fledgling Jedi order does not demand the assistance of their greatest Knight, she is in the fields beside him—directing the hired hands as needed, entertaining curious younglings that come to see for themselves two legends of the rebellion, dirt-stained and beautiful.

When she must go, her ships leave early in the morning, and despite the protest of his knees in the cold air Rex is always there to see her off. Leans in to press a kiss to her dark lips, his beard brushing her face, feeling her smile at the sensation. Watches as she climbs the ramp, her grey cloak swishing about her ankles, and stays there until her ship is nothing more than a speck in the sky.

The days (weeks, sometimes the occasional month) that she is gone pass in a regular fashion, filled with the farm, friends, and sometimes a mission of his own. It would be a lie to say that he does not count them, does not miss her warmth in bed, or her half-awake shuffling to the caf maker in the mornings.

She's been gone for three days, and the sun beats down on the clone's neck as he winds his way through the open market, passing stalls of fruit and parts and various other things, having purchased his necessities and now just wandering, letting the idle chattering of the crowd wash over him.

From the corner of his eye, Rex spots the glinting of metal, and he finds himself standing in front of a jewelers stall, looking over a selection of bands and rings, occasionally dotted with a brightly colored stone.

The stall owner chatters away as he looks over the assemblage, more curiosity than actual interest when one set towards the back catches his attention. Brushed steel shines in the the afternoon sun, faint scratches and grooves that catch the light and remind the clone of worn lightsaber handles, utilitarian and elegant. Of course, the ring fits, and in the depths of his mind, he hears General Kenobi mutter about the force working in mysterious ways. The stall owner mistakes the smile on his face for joy at having found the perfect gift; Rex doesn't correct him and tucks the small box into his jacket.

His speeder bike hums as it flys over the grassy fields around his home, not an overly long ride, but long enough that by the time he sees the ranch in the distance, the sky is beginning to darken. When he arrives, the lights are on, and as he dismounts the bike he throws the bag over his shoulder while his other hand reaches for his hip, fingers brushing over where his service weapon used to sit out of pure habit, before the aroma of cooking stew reaches him and he relaxes.

Sure enough, standing in the kitchen, stripped down to her leggings and undershirt, humming along to the radio while mindfully watching over a simmering pot, is Ahsoka.

He takes a moment to lean against the doorway and drink in the sight of her, from the movement of her hips as she lightly dances to the sway of her rear head-tail. The music changes, and so do her movements, in time with the now slow staccato beat. Its when he catches her grin over her shoulder that he knows he's been caught in his silent watching, suspects that she knew the whole time.

Walking past the table, Rex sets down the bag, hardly pausing before he's behind her, hands on her hips and chin hooked over her shoulder.

"You're back early."

She leans back into his chest, and he can feel her smile where their faces touch.

"Surprised?"

He hums in response, and kisses her on the cheek.

"Its a good surprise, though."

They stand there for a few minutes, the music softly playing in the background as the aroma of stew fills the air. Rex eventually lets go and pulls of his jacket and begins setting the table.

The food, as always when Ahsoka cooks, is delicious — but Rex knows he could be eating rations in the rain, and it would still be the best meal he has had as long as he's sharing it with her. The conversation flows, and they swap stories of what their time apart held, why her assignment to Mon Cala was cut short, how the new farmhand is working out, no detail too small to be not of interest.

When the two are done, he clears the table, puts away the leftovers, and is halfway through washing up when he hears a soft gasp behind him.

He dries his hands and turns, only to be caught motionless at the wide-eyed and open-mouthed (wondrous his mind supplies) look on Ahsoka's face as she stares down at the Togrutan wedding bands in her hands, his jacket a heap on the floor.

Slowly, oh so slowly, she looks up at him.

His heart thunders in his chest, and suddenly he doesn't feel Thirty-Seven/Seventy-Four, doesn't feel like an old grizzled war veteran, forgets for a moment that he's a clone that outlived the purpose he was bred for.

In that moment he's Rex, just a man, feeling like a shiny standing for his first inspection, confident and nervous all at once.

It's her voice that sets time back in motion, (and it's fitting that it's his name from her lips that calls him back, knows he would follow has followed that call across the galaxy so long as it's her calling).

He finds his feet and walks over to her, answering that call, cups her hands in his holding onto the box together. And he couldn't stop this hope that has bloomed in his chest if he wanted to, the kind of hope that hurts for how full it makes you feel (he doesn't want to, made a choice a long time ago on a barren, frozen planet, to hope in Ahsoka Tano, and twenty-odd years haven't changed that).

She launches herself at him, all twelve inches of space gone in a moment, wraps her arms around his neck. And he laughs, lifts her off her feet and spins around, her shouts of "Yes! Yes! Yes!" the sweetest benediction he had ever known.

And he knows that she cannot stay, would never ask that of her, but the knowledge that she always returns, that it is him and his side that she has chosen to call her home is all the sweeter for it.

In the end, he's the one to leave.

Two years later, three years after the fall of Endor, with the scent of Biituian blossoms that will bear no fruit hanging in the air, he knows his time is up. He had hoped for longer, but it was a faint thing, knows the ins and outs of Kaminoan cloning too well to have truly fooled himself. Even if he didn't, he can feel it in his bones, almost a voice in the back of his head that become him to rest.

Of course he tells her, does not want this to be one more thing that the Galaxy pulls on her without warning. But from the way her hands grip his over the table, the sadness (but not surprise) that fills her eyes, he suspects that she already knew. Her grip tightens, and sunlight glints off the ring on his finger, matching the shine from the steel bangle secured on her right head-tail.

And he is sorry, so very sorry that he has to march ahead of her. But he is relieved, too. After so long wondering when and how and who would be his death (In battle? Friendly fire? An Imp, or a brother?), to finally know is as freeing as it is horrible.

They do not work in the fields that day, leaving the running of the farm to others, instead spending the day with each other, holding, talking, memorizing.

He can see her mask of composure cracking, so he pulls her close, trying to offer what comfort he can before he can't, not sure if he's making it better or worse, uncaring of the dampness that has collected in his shirt from her tears (more then aware of his own as they slip down his cheeks and into his beard).

He makes her a cup of tea, and hands it to her. Asks if she want to stay, (not to stay — never that, not even for this, no matter how much he doesn't want to be alone), because he understands if she doesn't, and even with puffy eyes, red from crying, she fixes him with a look. It calls him crazy, a idiot — her idiot, and even to the end his heart flips over itself at the thought — and she tells him as much.

Night falls and they settle into the couch, his head resting lightly on her shoulder, a blanket spread over the two of them keeping away the chill. Perhaps its childish, the way that he fights off sleep, despite having spent a day months, years preparing. Beside him, he can tell Ahsoka is still awake, knows that she will sit a vigil all night, and it is that knowledge more then anything that lets him slip his eyes shut.

As the darkness pulls him in, he swears he can feel the ghost of her breath on his skin as she whispers her farewell.

------

And because I feel really evil leaving it at this (even though this IS the end of this part of the story), take a sneak peek at part 3.

Its the feel of the planet, the taste of the air, burned into his memory in a way that few things are.

He knows beyond any measure of doubt where he is, when he is: it's the start of what would lead to the worst day of his life. Worse even, then finding out the news that Ahsoka had fallen to the hands of Vader.

Umbara.

But that's not right. It can't be right. Confusion swirls round in his mind, the memory of her smile crisp and clear and impossible. Not if he's right (he wishes he wasn't, but every sense is screaming that he's back, and after years of surviving on his intuition he trusts it).

His arms around her.

Impossible.

The sight of her markings, stretched and grown, as they stand before a dying fire at the end of the war.

Impossible.

Unless...

And his mind —the part that wants to believe, to hope— catches on to the flaw in this pattern of denial. If it was a dream, how could he know about this place? If it was a dream, how could he know about Krel, Dogma, the treachery?

Impossible.

He scrubs a hand down his face, jarred by the lack of a beard, familiar and foreign all at once, and the feel of cool metal scraping his skin.

He pulls his hands away to look at them and for the third time that morning his heart catches in it's chest because it's there. Solid and silver, and very very real.

[thewordonmainstreet]

How It Is - The Mess We’re In

Not only do we have a Prime Minister who would rather play Mr. Dressup than answer questions in Question Period, we have a whole generation, who nearly die looking into little black boxes that they can’t stop looking at.  The greatest cause of fatality in 2018 and beyond could very well be death by zombie walking.  Face in cellphone walking.  But that’s okay, let Darwin root them out.  We’ve got people who cannot break their addiction to their phones and have to look down at every stoplight.  Cellphone addiction may be as powerful as crack addiction.  And yes, we still have people who talk with their phone to their ear while driving.  $490.00 and a few demerit points is never as important as a conversation. 

We have a whole generation of Instagrammers who snap photos of every moment in their life because they want to be living the Kardashian life so much so that they give away everything there is to know about them.  And why do grammers’ profiles all look like they’re all so much in debt, always have a perfect house and always latch on to the same trends?  I swear, it’s a sea of mugs and sweatshirts with slogans, all rose gold decor, fancy coffee pics, and ripped jeans.  Some never really left high school so it seems.  Conform or be cast out, or unfollowed in this case.  Look at me, I was alive today.  I stood by this wall and posed.  We have women spending fortunes on Naked 2 palettes and Kylie lip collections and going into debt-by-Sephora whose collection of makeup will not save them, will not make them lucky in love or make them turn heads but they`re a slave to the gram.  Same with those who have a new car and they’re so strapped by the payments that washing it is a luxury.  I saw that today and couldn’t believe it.  A brand new car and was covered in dirt.  And then we have every man who has little man syndrome and never really felt like a man driving a big ass truck that they almost have to live in because they can’t afford their rent.  I say rent because a $500.00 a month car payment must be hard to do alongside a mortgage, even for a condo.  I tell you, the way these men drive and treat others on the road makes me wonder how the hell they have a job to make the payments.  Big man you’re really little. 

We have parents who are watching their phones instead of their kids.  Kids now even as young as infants can tell when they’re being phubbed.  So we’ll have a whole generation of kids who had present absent parents.  Kids who were always pushed aside will most def feel the need to act out to get noticed.  Self-harm may be one of the ways.  Put down the phone and pick up your kid.  We don’t talk to each other and there are so many desperately lonely people who will never know the real meaning of friendship.  I’m one of them.  We don’t know how to fight fair or work at relationships.  We want everything easy, “perfect”.  Don’t you hate that word?  Perfect, the “no worries” of 2018.  People would rather just end a bad relationship than work on it.  I think it’s scary that kids don’t have hope in this world.  They see our sad faces, they look to the cars next to them and see every driver is sad, and they see that people are icy cold to each other.  Kids know the world isn’t a happy place.  Many display symptoms of mental illness at an earlier and earlier age.  If the millenials are prone to mental illness in a huge way, I don’t want to even imagine the younger generations.  We are trying so desperately to be any level of happy in a world that is harsh and exacting.  No one talks to each other, we have a mental health crisis never seen before, and Trump keeps antagonizing North Korea. 

Our kids are learning more in grade 2 sex ed, than I did in grade 8 and I think this is so wrong.  Kids are probably experimenting with sex by age 8.  Why do we have to have 21 genders?  Why do I fear the child porn will one day be an acceptable sexual fantasy?  It scares the hell out of me but if bestiality is acceptable in some circles, you’re going to see the dark web become just “his sexual interest” and that`s his choice.  Some of us are pretty damn sick.  And morals, we have none.  Most of us act like animals who treat each other horribly because that’s all people do now is treat each other badly and we`ve never known any different.  I see younger girls behaving so badly now, loud, brash and repulsive.  Is this what men today like?  Apparently.  We do what we want and who cares what the other person thinks. 

The job market is beyond bad and raising minimum wage 27% was one huge dumpster fire. I have seen the little bit of job activity almost completely dry up since the wage raise and I`ve heard stories of many who have lost hours or jobs entirely.  There are so many scandals at Queens’ Park that I’ve lost track of all of them.  The poor are poor, the rich are about to become poor and the middle class are poor all because of Wynne.  Food bank use is up to about 45,000 users a month here in Ottawa.  People keep falling through the cracks of a society whose compassion is running on empty yet we seem to have it all, the way that people are so damn offensively positive and technology is just so.....making our lives better all the time.  Yeah right, it`s not solving any of our issues, it`s just giving us more to play with. 

We allow people to shoot up at safe injection sites yet to get a bed at a drug rehab. centre takes 6 months to a year.  People don’t know how to spell or write a proper sentence.  Apparently they don’t teach kids how to write anymore.  Yes, how to write with a pen.  Well I hate to tell you but a kid is going to have to write at some point in his life.  At many points in fact.  Parents are friends and not parents to their kids.  Every parent seems to call their kid “buddy”.  Discipline is only a suggestion and parents are weak as anything in being an authority over their child.  Never wanting to be seen as that bad parent in the grocery store, the parents tries to negotiate with the child as if they were a hostage taker instead of lay down the law.  And rewards are all a part of it.  You be good in the car and we’ll get you Timbits.  We never want to lay down the law with our kids because that would be messy and we don`t want messy and oh, look at that Mom having a meltdown.  We`d rather calm kid and who cares if it cost me McDonald`s ?  Speaking of McDonald`s,we spend more time in drive thrus than in our own kitchens.  We`ve fallen madly in love with convenience.  I`ve never seen drive thrus so packed as I do lately.  All kinds of people are making unhealthy food choices in the name of time-starved but it`s expensive. 

We love our pets with a mad love because humans always let us down and hurt us.  I’ve never seen a generation of people so crazy about their pets and treating them as human.  It’s because they don’t talk to us and don’t act like the awful human species we have now does.  Don’t get me wrong, I adore my bird, just adore her, but I’ve never seen pets become above importance than humans.  Just look at any pet owners` Instagram and you`ll get what I mean.  The pet gets all the love and the humans get the leftovers.  Read the language too and you`ll see how obviously clear whose winning the heart of the humans. 

Online hate.......Why do we feel we have to ignite a flame war and take down anyone online who disagrees with us?  Read any comments section and see how fellow adults are really behaving.  All we talk about is mental health yet we rip anyone to shreds who we feel is less than us or disagrees with us.  Where is the civility?  There is none if you`re going to be a part of the debate and open yourself up to being pelted with insults.  And some of them can put a person who may have mental health issues in a really dark place.  You’re going to see anarchy start to be a thing that everyone is going to want to be a part of.  Just like Locke Avenue in Hamilton, ON last week.  We’re animals, really and truly animals who don’t know how to treat people when it’s not work or someone else they have to behave for.  I feel bad for all those cashiers that see adults having tantrums all the time.  I’ve been there.  Why be nice if you won’t see her again?  We’ve got to teach our kids not to eat Tide Pods, men can’t keep their manhood in their pants and we’ve got kids beating their teachers up in record numbers in the schools.  We’re really in trouble here folks.