#spent a long time wrestling with this one but the wedding was always gonna be rough

[niccolites]

green cliffs: - lessons in mortality. chapter four

highlander!soap x fem!reader. cw dubcon and period typical violence. read on ao3 here

There is a large exhale of wind as night turns into morning. You roll around in unfamiliar sheets, plotting how to escape when you are next given the opportunity.

Johnny’s father had been a saving grace. Although he accepted that you and Johnny were already wed, he had wanted it officialised at a wedding for everyone to see before he could allow you and Johnny to stay in the same bedroom together. You were granted to stay in Johnny’s chamber while Johnny would take one of the many guest rooms. With how you are woken up, you imagine that it hadn’t made much of a difference, your innocence already compromised anyway.

You were used to the wake up from Ian, the pinch of his fingers on your cheek as he was already half telling you what needed done - feed the chickens, brush down the horses, check on the stock at the back of the cupboards. You wake up, half hopeful, cheek already smarting as if in preparation of him. Johnny blinks down at you, half-lidded. Beautiful but terrible.

“I’ll be back soon, angel,” he murmurs into the tilt of your neck, leaving a slick kiss there that has you shuddering. You swallow down the urge to snap at him to get off of you, letting him do as he wishes for the moment. Your compliance earns you a hand down your side, Johnny huffing as he rounds his palm over your hip.

He lifts his head, suddenly, gazes at you for a moment. You blink up at him, the image of docility, which has him squinting. You stay still, let him cup your jaw in the broad of his hand. His hair is mussed up from sleep, fluffy and loose in the morning. His beard is only slightly thicker than it had been when you had first met, a little darker.

His pupils dilate then pinch, taking in the expressions of your face. “Ah willnae be gone long,” he says, serious in a way that sends a different kind of shake through you. A warning. You nod as best you can, your chin digging into his palm. He squints for another moment. His thumb digs into the soft give beneath the bolt of your jaw. Just before you can crack under his hard stare, it dissipates and he dips his head to steal another kiss from you. “Wait fer me,” he bids you, and leaves.

You watch from the window, as he takes his horse from Mrs Duncan’s nephew - the stablemaster. You sit at the window, holding your chin like a phantom ache that Johnny has left behind. You can see his head, no bigger than your nail, tilt back as if seeking you out in the window. You doubt he can see you but he stares for a moment, hand near his clavicle as if in prayer before he bows his head and Cerberus starts to move.

You sit and wait, watching as he starts the journey towards the small village just outside of the Keep. He gets smaller and smaller, barely a dot in your vision and then not even that.

You jump up and stride over to Johnny’s desk. The clothes that you had left yesterday are folded neatly on the ornate chair. You had managed to salvage your stays from your dress before it had been spirited away by Mrs Duncan at some point while you were away from Johnny’s room. Your new dress is a softer cotton, a light blue skirt and a thick, dark woolen shawl that you tie around your clavicle. The bag filled with what little things you had managed to bring with you sits in the chair, ready to be picked up and returned to where they belong.

You do your stays up slowly, knotting the string up your chest. Johnny has barely been gone for part of an hour. Although you would be on foot, you didn’t want to chance him spotting you while you were still so near to the Keep.

In the dark of Johnny’s room, the smell of him buried in his sheets even though Mrs Duncan had replaced them, you had planned. If Johnny was less eager, maybe you could have waited for a better opportunity to attempt to run away, but you had felt time slip from endless into mere hours, minutes. 

You don’t know where the closest priest is, likely in that small village just outside the Keep, but Johnny hadn’t seemed certain. His father had been discussing how the vicar may have been summoned to another village to perform burial rites just the other week, and so may still be making that slow journey back.

It is a risk, stealing away and going towards the village, with the chance that the first stable you approached, Johnny would appear. But, it was one that you would have to take. It would be too noticeable if you were to take one of the horses at the Keep’s stable, and you didn’t know how long the journey home would take on foot.

You tidy the bed, as if smoothing away any evidence that you had ever been there in the first place. You half-expect someone to catch you in the corridor, stop you and ask where you’re going. The few maids that pass you may give you a second glance but they keep quiet, scurrying like mice to wherever they need to go.

You exit out into the foreground, feel the sun beat down on your face, familiar, like an old friend. Long days out in the field, tilling until blisters form on your palms. Your skin itches with the sudden craving for it, and you set out, nose like a bloodhound. You don’t belong here, trapped in a room with Johnny and soft dresses. You need dirt under your hands, you didn’t realise until it was taken from you.

You cross the open ground of the Keep, people milling around as they go about their day. You reach the stone entrance, hesitate for half a moment before stepping from gravel into grass. Muscles tense as you wait for something to happen, for someone to stop you. The cacophony of noise behind you doesn’t suddenly stop, no one seems to take much notice.

You take another step then another, wanting to run, to get as much distance between you and the Keep as possible. You know you shouldn’t, though. You’re still in view of the Keep, and you don’t know if anyone is watching you too closely, but if they are, that may send them chasing after you. Better to walk, worst case you can always say that you were looking for Johnny, lovesick in the preparation of your nuptials, barely able to stand a morning away from him.

You imagine that Johnny will move on swiftly. Maybe rage when he first finds you gone, if you were trying to flatter yourself. However, another maiden would be in distress, and Johnny would swoop in and the story would repeat itself. You had half a mind to ask if you were the first woman that Johnny had brought home in such a manner, but had decided to leave it be. If you weren’t, you were likely to be replaced soon in any case.

It feels good to stretch your legs, stretching out your back as you go. You reckon that Ian will have something to say about your newfound laziness, a harsh wake-up required to get back to the realities of farm living.

You try to keep your mind occupied, but you drift back to thoughts of Johnny. You can vividly feel the press of his nose into your temple. His hands on your skin, rough and skirting, always shifting against you, as if trying to touch all of you at once. The dark hair across his chest, the thick press of muscle against his skin. You imagine another woman in his room, letting him kiss her the same way that he had with you. There is a bitter taste in the back of your throat but you ignore it. Only you can taste it after all.

Within the hour you have crossed the open grounds and are on the cusp of the village. It had been bustling when you had originally passed through, crowds of people at the market, selling and buying from stalls. Now, everything is still, a gust of wind blowing between cottages and whistling in a way that has the hair on the back of your neck rising.

The warmth of the sun seems trapped on the rooftops, unable to reach you on the ground. You hesitate, grass under your feet turning to dirt that has been packed in after being walked over so many times. There could be another village that you could visit, that you could beg a horse from, or even just directions and walk. But, you barely know the area, and another village could be a day away, and you could be heading in the completely wrong direction.

You shuffle, uncertain, and turn to look back at Dundardy Keep. Easily a mile away now, but you imagine that you can see the shadows of people in all of the windows. Watching you, keeping an eye in Johnny’s absence. You think you can see a figure, near the entrance of the Keep, and you wonder if you are being followed after all.

There’s nothing to be done for it. You step into the village, and make your way forward.

The loose fabric on a stall shifts against the wooden plank of its counter, wriggling like a hand in your direction. You stand in what seems to be the centre of the village, a loose circle, surrounded with abandoned stalls and a few cottages before they span down different paths into more homes.

You can hear the faintest sound, a murmur in one of the cottages. The lively scene that had welcomed Johnny is long gone, everyone gone into hiding. Nothing had been said about the village last night. Just that the local vicar may be in another village. Contrasted with the liveliness of the Keep, you think that you may have stepped onto another country, one with an absence of residents.

You head down one of the paths, a few minutes later, emerging onto the other side of the village. There is a stable here, with a few horses, and the sight of them nosing at some hay, as normal as can be, fills you with a sense of relief. Here is reality, as welcome as a bowl of warm soup.

You stretch your hand to one of the mares, and she lets you pet down her nose, nickering at you softly. You worry your lip looking over your shoulder. The village is in hiding, no one is around to help you out. If you cannot get directions, at least it would be less exhausting to be heading in the wrong direction if you found this out on the saddle.

It feels wrong to steal, especially in the shadow of a Laird. Your own village were tenants, but Ian had always dealt with the rent, always spoken with the men who were sent out to collect. This close by to the Keep, you imagine the crime is tenfold, and the punishment even steeper.

You feel owed this, though. Dragged out here by Johnny, you feel that you deserve to help yourself out. Besides, once you were back in your home, you could return, ride one of your own horses and guide this one home. Johnny would likely be back in the Keep in that distant future, another bride on his arm. Hopefully, this one would be a bit more excited by the prospect.

You unclip the latch of the stable door, the horses huffing as you step inside. There are saddles hitched to the back wooden wall and you consider taking one as well before you deny yourself. It is one thing to steal a horse (borrow, you remind yourself), but it is another to just help yourself while you’re at it.

You do take some reins. You had ridden bareback on a horse before, but you hadn’t without reins, and you didn’t want to find out just now if you had the gift for it. You come back over to the mare who butts her head into your chest, affectionate in a way that has you giggling before you hush yourself.

You secure the reins in place before you toss them over the length of her neck, about to turn to guide her out of the stall when you feel the heat of a body behind you.

“Helping yourself out, eh?” A voice hisses, then there are hands on your upper arms, digging into the flesh. You don’t recognise it, and that makes your blood cool before it heats again, hot panic that almost spooks the horses when the man drags you out and you kick out, frightened.

You are tossed into the ground, a familiar experience that has you gasping. If the voice wasn’t Scottish, you might think that the last few days hadn’t happened and you were back on your farm.

You attempt to scramble backwards but the man is too quick. You are grabbed by your hair and dragged upwards. The man starts walking and you have no choice but to keep your pace with him, a hand on his wrist that is in your hair, as if to lessen the pain stinging your scalp. He’s muttering to himself, calling you a dirty thief, how you will seek penance. With the vicar seemingly gone, you wonder what that penance will look like.

“Where are you taking me?” you ask, and regret it when he yanks on your hair to shut you up.

“Shut yer thievin’ mouth,” the man hisses at you. He’s much older than you, balding and worn looking. You think of those Englishmen who had treated you like a plaything. Only that third man had looked at you with true hate, the way that this man does. It cows you, forces you to lower your eye as best as you can.

You are brought back through those empty paths that you had walked down, and brought to the chapel near the side of town, where your captor kicks the door in and throws you inside before slamming the doors shut again. It’s quiet here, here is where the sunlight had been trapped, filtering in through the weak windows and caught in the pews.

You rub at your scalp, gingerly, and get yourself up, looking up the aisle to look at the pulpit at the end. This is likely where the Sunday sermon is read.

Ian was always more religious than you were. He always recited his sermons before bed, whereas you had only ever believed in God when you thought He may smite you.

You sit on the pew next to you and look over that confessional booth. Johnny may be a sinner, but he clearly believed if the reason he hadn’t fully taken your innocence was any type of evidence. You wonder if he had ever been in that confessional booth. Wonder if there was enough time in the world for him to confess his wrong doing to you. Or maybe it was all overshadowed by his saviourism.

You are bought with Englishmen blood. You worry your hands in your lap, wringing your fingers together. Wonder if Johnny will be back in time to watch his father’s people take your hand for thieving.

The doors swing open again after a few minutes, and you expect to see the man who brought you here, and he is at the front. He also seems to have brought the entire village with him, streams of unfamiliar faces all peering through the doorway to glare at you.

Half-hysterical, you wonder if they really are going to take your hand after all.

//

An hour later, they still have not taken your hand, but you wonder if they may do even worse than that. This is no longer a chapel, no longer a church. This is a courtroom, an impromptu hanging of the witch. You had thought that your crime was attempting to steal a horse, but instead it was disrupting their peace. One of the village’s sons had died, and everyone had been in mourning, waiting for the vicar to come back to read the burial rites again, just as he was doing for another village.

You don’t dare say a word, let them discuss your crime amongst themselves. You don’t even know how the boy had died, if it had been an accident, or an illness. You know that you have done wrong in attempting to take on their horses, even as justified as you had felt at the time. Out of some kind of penance, you decide to let them do as they wish, and then hopefully you can continue your plan of escape. Ian will welcome you back, one-handed or not.

The weeping mother casts a hateful look at you, as if you had been the reason her son had died in the first place. You squirm beneath her gaze, hot shame curdling in your stomach like an old friend. You had been brought to the front of the congregation, stood in front of the pulpit. A sad mimic of a Sunday sermon, in which you are preached to instead.

It’s a mob, even as they play sensible. Listing your crimes, but you hear the creep of mania in everyone’s mutterings. A child is dead, and no one is to blame. These people want someone to rip apart, and you have given them half a reason. You can hear them starting to talk themselves into a hanging, perhaps even throwing you down the local river.

“There’s nothing to be done for thieves,” the man who caught you demands, addressing the room. “Take a hand, and they’ll steal with the other!” He throws his arms out in gesture to you, damning you.

There’s a murmur of agreement, every casting you a distrustful look as if you could be stealing again as they speak. You try to stand as meekly as you can, but it seems to make things worse, if possible.

Everyone is speaking over each other, demanding justice, but you don’t think they even know for what. The doors open but barely anyone notices, and in walks Mrs Duncan’s nephew. He takes in the sight of the crowd and catches sight of you. You wonder if maybe he will speak in your defence, if he’ll tell anyone that Johnny will be expecting you back in his room in the keep, and if you aren’t there, but rather dangling from a rope, then he may be more than a little upset.

He says nothing, but gives you a long look before he stays in the doorway, foot holding it open. Shoulder against the frame as he watches the room. No one gives him a second glance, too caught up in their own rabble.

You stand there, and let them yell at each other, deciding your fate. Only stirring when you are grabbed again, and spun around. You are facing the pulpit the wrong way now, back to the crowd. You only have a moment to wonder what it is that they are planning to do, before your hands are braced on the box, and someone must rear their hand back and the strike of a whip slices down your back.

Even through the wool covering and the fabric of your dress and shift, it is a sharp sting that slices into your skin. You shriek, try to dart away, or turn around, but there are hands on your wrists, holding you to the stand and the whip cracks against your back again.

You feel each leather tongue of it lick its sting on your back, quickly following with an agony that settles into the muscle and has you arching as if to get away from it. You think about the man in your village, how his back had been carved into, flesh ripped open as they did this on his bare back. You cannot even imagine, even as a lesser version happens to you. An extra step of pain, like a new colour that hasn’t been invented yet.

You can hear them chanting for someone to rip open the back of your dress, they want to see the whip slice down into the bone. They want blood, want it to cleanse you. The heat of a body  at your side, fingers digging into the back of your dress as if to make this reality. The rip of fabric, the cheer of the crowd as the untouched skin of your back is exposed, ready for the kill.

Everything is stopped with a bellow at the door. You know it’s Johnny, and relief sags in your knees before a different type of fear takes its place. “What the fuck is goin’ on here?” Johnny shouts, and he must be shoving people out of the way if the scuffle you hear is any indication.

The hands on your wrists are gone. You turn around to catch sight of Johnny, cracking his fist across the face of the man with the whip. The two men who had been holding you in place seem to be trying to get past as they see what their future has in store. You see them back away, stumbling into a pew and freezing as they watch Johnny rear his hand back again.

You blink tears out of your eyes and watch as most of the village floods out of the chapel, some staying and watching in horror. Johnny has the man who whipped you flat on his back, Johnny’s fist crushing into the delicate skin of his face over and over again, until there is nothing recognizable about him.

The sound of sobbing jolts you back to yourself, as you realise it is not your own. “Johnny - Johnny stop it!” You shout, falling forward and catching Johnny’s hand as he rears back to swing again. He shakes you off, forcing you back and into a pew which shrieks as it scrapes against stone. That sound seems to shake Johnny somewhat out of it, and he puffs, trying to catch his breath.

“Get him out of here,” he growls, forcing himself up and leaving the man on the ground. The man gurgles a little from what may be his mouth, blood frothing a little. You can’t look away from it, horrified. The justice for those Englishmen had been death and there had been something kind in that. This man doesn’t seem able to breathe, his nose crushed and flattened.

A couple of villagers scoop him up and cart him out, scuffling as they try to move as quickly as they can. The chapel is quiet besides the sound of breathing when the door finally swings shut at last.

Johnny stares at you, face still. You expect him to start on you next, maybe grab you and shake you around some. It’s frightening, how he just watches you, a faint twitch in his eye. The terrible urge to apologise sits in your throat but you swallow it down. You feel like you have been caught doing something wrong, even though you were just trying to get home.

“Vicar Jamie,” Johnny finally says, voice raw. His white shirt is stained in blood again, shifting down his chest and exposing the hair that grows there. You remember the bath from yesterday and flush, turning your head to who he is speaking to in order to distract your mind. A small, stout man, very haggard looking but dressed in Catholic finery stands near the doorway.

“Johnny, my boy, let us reconvene on this tomorrow, perhaps, give us some time to clean ourselves up,” the vicar tries to interject, but Johnny turns on him with such a veracity that has him shrinking.

“Now,” is all Johnny snaps out, mouth pulled back in a snarl that shows all of his teeth. His right hand drips red, a warning in itself.

The vicar nods, fumbles with his hands for a moment before he makes his way to the front of the chapel, neatly arcing around the smear of blood next to Johnny’s feet.

Johnny’s gaze returns to you, hot on your face. You hold your dress up on your chest, feel the cold air hit your back that has you shivering. His gaze holds no pity for you, and after a moment you glare right back at him.

The vicar shifts the stand that you had been shackled to, to the side and takes its place, avoiding your eye. Mrs Duncan’s nephew, who had stood at the door, takes a seat in the askew pew, face still as he watches you. A witness you realise, and a kick like a startled hare almost sends you tearing down the aisle.

Johnny’s hand on your upper arm catches you before you can seriously begin to run, yanks you into place.

A moment taken out of a play. You and Johnny, side by side. Your back exposed out of your ripped dress, a scared vicar who won’t look you in the face and a witness to your humiliation. Blood, cooling on the stone a step behind you, coating Johnny’s hands and his clothes.

You lean too far out of Johnny’s hold and you feel the tightening of his fist and you return to your place.

It's a sad affair, the vicar stumbling over his words as he binds the two of you together. Johnny is a barely controlled rage next to you, you can feel the shake of his fingers on your arm, squeezing and letting go, over and over. You don’t even have the official binding ceremony, the fabric that should tie your wrists together, the prick of blood. The vicar pauses as if to consider this, but quickly skirts past this as well. Likely, too much blood for a wedding ceremony already.

The vicar has barely finished before Johnny is snapping at him to get out. It’s a quick escape, a puff of air in your ear as he darts past you, Mrs Duncan’s nephew following shortly behind. The door snaps shut, fate sealed.

“What are you doing here?” Johnny asks, hot air huffing out of his mouth into your face.

You keep quiet, silenced in the face of his true anger. Before you had argued, snapped at Johnny, here is the first instance of genuine fear you have felt because of him. The anger he has that led to the murder of men who had hurt you, perhaps pointed at yourself for the first time. You wonder if he’s going to wrap his hands around your throat, squeeze like he seems to want to. There is a strange sensation of vulnerability, knowing your back is exposed even though it is hidden from Johnny’s view.

His hands come up and you flinch, missing the growl of frustration that comes out of him as they settle on your shoulders and wrestle you forward into your chest. “Why did they do this to you?” he asks, palms against your collarbone. The wrest of control, firmly in his hands.

You can’t look him in the eye, settle your eye-line on his clavicle again. The smooth skin, hidden in the dip of his throat. The itch from that horse ride - a lifetime ago - reawakens and you lift your hand, curl your finger in there. Feel the vibration as he grunts, feel the dip of his harsh swallow. Your name calls your attention. You look up, his eyes are dark, mad, even. You give into his tyranny. “I was trying to take a horse,” you admit. His nostrils flare, anger cracking across his face and you just barely stop yourself from flinching back from it. “I’m sorry,” you add, pathetic. Escape plan ruined before it even really started, you have nothing left to be prideful about.

He shudders, lowering his head to yours, the gulf of space now swallowed up with his proximity. You let out a meek sound when his forehead hits against yours, like he wants the bone to touch. “An’ Ah was out, findin’ us a priest to marry us, and you were tryin’ tae sneak out while m’back was turned,” he hisses out, hands clenching on your collarbone again, muscle and bone grinding against each other. You blink up at him, resigned to your fate. You felt the bite of teeth days ago, and had spent all of this time trying to hide from it. But, the stench of blood sticks and you must now reckon with it.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat. Feel all of it, the drag of emotions as they sweep through. The mare out in the stables had been a lifeline and when you were dragged away, you felt it like the loss of Ian all over again. Leaving him behind had been one thing, but every attempt to get back has been a lesson in humility since.

You are a human, in the wraps of terror left by a god. Swallowing a cry that lingers in the back of your throat like a sickness, you hesitantly tilt your head back and nudge your nose against Johnny’s. He freezes, hands going still. A breath, shared between the two of you. Here is that smack of flesh after the fall, a day late, but now it registers. It was likely even before he woke you up with his mouth on the back of your neck. A lion lying with its mouth open, you were halfway down his gullet before you even noticed where you were.

Your husband now, you think, half-crazed, before you inhale his breath and press your mouth hesitantly to his. It’s clumsy, you only half know what you’re doing but he presses forward with a hunger that almost has you reeling back again. Johnny is a man to be offered an inch and takes a mile, his hands on the back of your head, pressing you closer to him even as he leans in.

You only half know how to kiss him, but you barely get a chance to learn before he is pressing your mouth open with his. Barely a moment to gasp in a breath before his tongue is against yours, slick and invasive.

You stumble back, still holding your dress up with your hands before you stumble into a pew. He pulls back for a moment and you barely manage his name before he’s picking you up and thudding down to his knees, dragging you down with him.

The cold stone sends a wave of cold through you that has you keening away from it and into the warmth of Johnny’s chest. He lets go of your head and it thuds against the ground, his arms worming around your back, skating past the ripped open seams of your dress and onto the bare skin of your back. He moans, deep and wanton into the curve of your chin, gives you a quick nip there before he drops his head into the crook of your neck.

“I’ve been so patient, wanted it tae be right between us, angel, didnae want to ruin us,” he groans, hands greedy on the bare skin of your back. “But, it’s alright now, I’ve done it right, jus’ let me -”

He barely seems able to finish a thought, tugging your dress down, dragging your torn slip and underskirts with it. He barely manages, as unwilling as he is to get off of you as he does it, so they end up pooled around your waist, nipples pebbling in the cold. He coos down at your chest, pinching one of your nipples meanly until you hiccup.

“Johnny, can’t we go back to the Keep, I won’t run again, I swear,” you start, feeling overwhelmed tears start to prick in your eyes. You don’t want it to be like this, on the cold floor of an unfamiliar parish. You aren’t sure of the technicalities of what comes next, your father hadn’t been forthcoming when he was alive, and your brother refused to say, always deeming it unladylike to ask. You knew it was something frightening, and heard some of the women describe their husbands as beasts during the act. You know how the animals look as they do it, saw the rutting of a stallion in a mare once, how she had shrieked as she was mounted.

“You were the one tae drag yerself out here,” Johnny points out, half-muttering to himself. He gnaws on your collarbone before he gives you a sucking kiss there. “Ye’ve made yer bed, sweetheart.”

He shifts himself up onto his knees and lifts your ankles up, yanks your skirts and dress down, tossing them over his shoulder with barely a glance. You’ve been bare in front of him before, not even a day ago, but this feels different. He looms over you, eyes dark as they seem to take in every inch of you. The stone beneath your back is cold, leaving gooseflesh all over you as it steals your heat.

He splits your legs across his lap and you jump, hand trying to reach down to cover the apex of your thighs but he catches your wrists in one of his hands, transfixed with his gaze between your legs. “There she is, oh angel, she’s so beautiful,” he murmurs, a thumb reaching down to pull the seam of you further apart, something that has you squirming in shame. “Knew ye would have such a sweet cunt, so pretty.”

“Don’t look down there, it’s unseemly,” you protest, voice weak. Your thighs clench with the need to close but you only end up squeezing your knees on his waist.

“All mine,” he continues to mutter, thumb coming up to round over the top of your sex, a feeling like a curling heat in your stomach starting up. It has you jumping, hare kicking out its legs before a hand soothes over its ears, pins them down. Your reaction seems to gratify him, has him rubbing his thumb until it’s almost mean, eyes hot on you for even the smallest reaction. You start to whine, deep in your chest, the feeling just on this side of just too much.

“Johnny, Johnny, please,” you sob, barely understanding what it is that you are pleading for. 

He lets up, petting down to your entrance which you can feel flutter at the press of his fingers. He pushes and you feel his finger push into you, a whine coming out of you like a wounded animal. He pants, not even blinking as he watches it, barely pausing before he’s pushing in a second finger, which almost has you bucking him off. He shushes you, half distracted by the sight of your cunt swallowing his fingers and leaving them shining. “So good, angel, so good,” he mutters. You hate that the praise has you trying to swallow down any of your complaints.

He lets go of your wrists and they lie, useless across your belly. Still watching his fingers move in you, his other hand tugs over the sash his kilt has made over his chest, yanking on it until it unravels and it is also tossed to the side. Lifting your knee to press a clumsy kiss to the side of it, he lets it drop again and pulls his hand away from your sex with a mournful noise and pulls off his white shirt.

Now that both of you are naked, Johnny seems to get quicker, breath coming fast. He quickly hitches your legs further up his waist and drags you closer to him. Stone scrapes at your back and you hiss, which he barely acknowledges with a quick kiss to the underside of your breast.

He drags his hand up your slit and gathers the slick that has gathered there, and slides that over his cock, moaning with his mouth hanging open as he looks at you beneath him. “Been dreaming o’ this, bonnie. Knew it was you, was always you,” he murmurs, smoothing his other hand over the curve of your hip, as if memorising the shape of you by hand. “Nothing wrong wae it now, jus’ the two o’ us, always, always.”

He braces one of his hands just over your shoulder, the other to guide his cock to your sex and notches it against your hole. It looks monstrous, now that you can bring yourself to properly look at it. Nothing like the faint sight of it you had seen in the Bible once, the mushroom head is red as Johnny pulls back skin to expose it. He intends to push it inside you, just as he did his fingers, but the head of it looks to thick to manage it.

“Johnny, it’s not going to fit,” you start to say, but that just makes Johnny groan and shush you, giving you a squeeze on the hip.

“Of course it will, angel, ye were made fer me,” he tells you, and you can see the pull of muscle in his bicep as he starts to push.

For a moment, you think that you’re right, it’s not going to. But, then, you can see the give of muscle, the parting of flesh and see yourself swallow the head as a tremor runs through you. A strange, foreign feeling. It feels half-invasive, as he pushes into you, the rest of you transfixed by the furrow of his brow as he watches the parting of your flesh around him.

“Oh, oh fuck, angel, oh shit,” he curses, continuing the slow guide into you until you feel it stop, as if you cannot take anymore. 

“Johnny,” you sob, looking back down to see only half of him is inside of you. “Johnny, take it out, I can’t -”

“The best cunt ever, the prettiest girl, fer me, all fer me, oh angel,” he rambles, eyes rolling back into his head as he shifts his hips. Pulls out of you just enough to push back in. You whimper with it, as he tries to grind even more of himself into you.

It's not working, leaving you sniffling beneath him until he grunts in frustration and brings his thumb to your clit and starts to work you in little circles.

His other hand hoists your thigh further up his waist, and he catches sight of your teary expression. Forces what must be an attempt at a soothing smile but all you can see is the clench of his jaw, the sharp edge of his teeth. You wonder if he likes the look of the pinch of your brow, the part of your mouth as you start to loosen up just a little. Even the few tears that drip down your temples. His hand on your hip smears blood into your skin, but you barely notice, trying to catch your breath.

“There we go, c’mon jus’ relax, honey, make it good, there we are,” he coaxes you, a tendon throbbing in his throat. His thumb on your sex makes everything a little slicker and more of him disappears into you, until he finally bottoms out, his thighs pressed flush against the back of yours.

A whine escapes you, painful and high and you cling to Johnny’s chest, coarse hair scratching at your palms. “Johnny,” you start again, unable to look down at yourself again, see the ugly stretch of yourself around Johnny. Everything throbs, you can feel him in your lungs, buried deep and irrevocable now.

Johnny is out of it, both his hands brace over your shoulders now, a tremble in his broad shoulders. You can see the white of his eyes, unreachable, as he groans long and drawn out. “The tightest cunt, knew ye would be so sweet fer me, dreamt of this, of you,” he rambles, pulling his hips back just enough to snap them back into you.

“I can't,” you stammer, but he just shakes his head roughly at you, beyond words. Braces himself on his knees and starts to grind against you. Pulls himself out and then pushes back in. It's a strange sort of pleasure. The stretch of flesh smarting a little before the clumsy rhythm starts to warm you up. Sweat slicks your back until the stone beneath you is warm with the fever spreading through you.

Johnny seems to come back to himself for a moment, thumb dropping back down to the peak of your sex, roughly rubbing circles in time with his thrusts. The pinnacle of the male body, all dark hair and rippling muscles, all bearing down on you. You can see the tense of muscle triangulating at his abdomen, flexing with each thrust into you.

He quickly seems to forget about you, hand dropping away in favour of sliding around to the small of your back and hitching you up. Your hands scramble for purchase, clinging to his forearms as both his hands keep only your shoulders against the ground.

“Johnny, no, don’t,” you protest, mouth opening on a shaky breath out as his thrust into you feels dirtier like this. You catch sight of the altar, the smooth wood built by holy men at their parish. Blasphemous, to consummate like this in here, Johnny makes it filthy, something that you imagine must be wrong even as you start to twitch your hips towards his thrusts, wanting it.

Your protests just make Johnny groan, your hips still propped up on his thighs, but he bends his torso down to press against yours. His head against your clavicle, you can feel the sweat building on his forehead smear against your skin. “Yeah, Ah’m a dirty man, aren’t I, sweetheart?” he asks you, biting at the side of your breast before broadly licking at your nipple, both of you whining together when that makes you clench around him.

Everything is slick, you can hear a wet sound as he works between your thighs and you want to cringe, ashamed even as you barely understand. You can hardly think, a fever in you that is spreading, but Johnny is burning even hotter. You slide your hands up to his biceps and cling to the hard muscle there as he thrusts into you.

Breathy sounds are punched out of you, punctuated with each collision of Johnny forcing himself deeper into you. It's lewd, the smack of flesh, but you feel hazy, dreamlike. Johnny continues rambling above you, his mouth working, the scratch of his beard across the soft skin between your breasts, but you can barely hear him.

There is a rising heat within you, and it spreads like disease through you, muddying your thoughts until you tilt your head back. Dig your temple into stone as if to try and grind your mind back into your body.

You’re wrestled back into yourself, Johnny refusing to let you look anywhere else. You understand why those women described their husbands as animals. Johnny is a huffing beast above you, slavering over you he gives and takes, over and over until you are senseless.

He stills, groans deep in his chest, his forehead resting on your chest, and you feel the twitch and sudden heat of him spending himself inside of you. The fever stills and festers in you, leaving you feeling itchy. Johnny snaps his hips a few more times, then drags it out, lazy as his mouth drools into your skin. Stills inside you, but you feel high-strung, still too tense.

Your hands twitch, fingernails catching against taut skin. Johnny huffs, amused but breathless. “I’ve got you, m’girl, so greedy, eh?”

You have half a mind to protest, he's the one who’s swallowed you whole, not the other way around. But your mouth opens and nothing but a choked whine spills out when his hand drops down to your sex again and works you over.

Still buried so deep, every flex is different like this, Johnny groaning his agreement into your sweaty skin. “Johnny, Johnny, please - !” You beg, legs kicking out as your vision gets blurry, and suddenly your back bows, a sob bursting out. A fresh slick of liquid around Johnny, and he thrusts lightly, half-soft now, whining at the overstimulation of it.

He keeps going until you start to squirm too much, almost launching yourself across the floor and he stops, laughing into the curve of your breast, still half whining to himself. He smooths his hand up your thigh and to the curve of your backside. You can feel the wetness of his fingers, but you feel too dazed to be too embarrassed of it.

“Knew ye’d be so good,” Johnny murmurs, squeezing at your backside. You hum, bone deep exhaustion dragging you down. You lift a hand up and drag it into his hair. He melts, his weight digging you further into the floor.

You become aware of the sopping wet beneath your thighs, wincing as you shift your hips and feel wetness slide down and join the sweat that you have left on the stone. Sweat cools in the divot of your throat, the small of your back, sticking between you and Johnny. The length of his body pressed against you, hard muscle against the soft give of your skin. He seems to like it, a hand squeezing at the give of your arse, the other smoothing over whatever flesh you have left to give him.

“We should get up,” you murmur, your chin on the crown of his head. He huffs like a lazy dog, but after a moment where you think he isn’t going to get up at all, he finally starts to shift with a sigh.

Johnny reaches between your thighs and pulls himself out of you, you wince at the stretch, watch with morbid interest at the white shine left behind, caught in the hair that covers the base of his cock. Johnny is equally as enthralled with what he’s made of your cunt and it’s only when your thighs squeeze shut that he shakes his head and stands. He gives you a firm pat on the backside before he hoists you up, a mean laugh at your squeak. “C’mon, up we go, lassie,” he says, teasing and light. He seems fond now, still a little more harsh than you want him to be, but he nudges his head against yours again, a mimic of how you were as you were joined. “Nothin’ between us, now, ehh?” he adds, blue eyes digging into yours.

His nose nudges against yours, your skin buzzes with the remnants of his touch. There is no stone left unturned, everything split apart under Johnny’s hands. Ripe fruit, ripped open and left to rot.

“Nothing,” you echo, and he smiles like the sun. There is man’s blood on his right hand and you can smell the metal of it when he cups your face and brings his mouth back to yours. A clash of teeth as you bite back even as you are swallowed up.

“Let’s go home,” Johnny murmurs, pulling back with a slick noise as your lips separate. You don’t think you know where that is, but you let him gather your skirts back up to half cover you before he gives you his kilt and fastens it around you. Damning, to wear the red of the Mactavish clan. The final nail in this coffin, solidifying who you are now.

Cerberus is outside, pawing at the ground and snapping his teeth at any of the villagers who get too close. Before you are ushered onto the saddle and away, you catch sight of the mare you had been about to escape on. Your bag of your belongings from home sits abandoned in a heap next to the stable. Your spare cloak, your spare shift. The last remnants of home.

It is all swallowed up as Johnny stands in front of you. You let him hoist you up and you curl into him as he slots into place behind you. The world is caught around the edge of Johnny’s shoulder, filtered through into your vision.

Cerberus starts a slow canter back to the Keep, and you dig your forehead into Johnny’s collarbone. Every step takes you further from your land. Johnny’s hand on the curve of your tummy, his chin on the crown of your head. There is a bottomless feeling in your stomach, but Johnny smooths his hand over your belly and catches it in the palm of his hand.

[cottoncandy-cult]

Familial Ties

Raiden X Chubby! Fem! Reader

This one is split in an awkward place because of tumblr's stupid word limit, so the second part will be linked at bottom.

August 1795, in Edo Japan This would be after Raiden had become Ozeki, historically Raiden had achieved this in March of 1795 making him at around 18 during the occurances of this story. Tameemon Raiden x Chubby Fem! Reader

"Welcome home, dinner's almost done." (Y/n) smiled from where she stood in the entryway to the kitchen, it was still so surreal to her to be married to her long term lover. They had been seeing eachother since mid winter of the year before, it was shortly after he had become Ozeki in the spring that Raiden had proposed to her. It had been 5 months since the night of their wedding, the whole thing had been a whirlwind. Of course with Raiden being a popular Ozeki it was a rather big event, it didn't take long for things to fall into place. After their wedding he had been allowed to move out of his stable, Raiden having bought a house nearby so he could walk to the stable for his daily training and to help train some of the newer wrestlers. Things had since grown peaceful, but still she couldn't believe how lucky she had been to end up with the gentle giant before her. "Thanks, I'm gonna go clean up real quick." He had approached her with a calm pace, a soft smile on his face as he leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her head. His body relaxing as any possible stress from the day disapeared when he had her close, he knew when he saw her working at her parents restaraunt that he had to have her. Thankfully he was quite charming, so he didn't have to spend months proving his worth. Though that didn't mean he didn't put in work when it came to the relationship, he made she was supported and often bought her gifts and would bring his friends to her restertaunt to eat many nights. Earning the family a nice sum, as he knew she would never accept it if he had tried to just give her the money. Even if he was still somehwhat jaded towards sumo, he found himself in heaven when he'd see her watching his matches. He always made sure she had a comfortable place to watch from, wanting to be able to watch her back. The things that were normal to him she seemed to adore, an amazed gleam in her eyes every time he lifted another man from the ground. "Alright, your kinagashi should be laid out on the trunk." Raiden had nodded and muttered his thanks before moving away from her to go get cleaned up and put on his kimono, he smiled when he entered the large room. Because the house was close to the sumo stables and ring it had been designed with a sumo in mind. Because of this things were surprisingly proportionate to him, but that was also why (Y/n) needed a step stool to reach the tops of the counters comfortably.

He thought it was adorable really, she was so much littler than him and while that was normal with most it just felt special with her. He remembered how when they had first started dating she was often anxious, when it was explained that it was because she was concerned of her body shape he had spent almost an hour kissing her and explaining how he adored every aspect of her form. He loved bigger women, as a large and quite strong man skinny women made him a bit nervous because he has to be even MORE careful with them than he normally has to be with ANYONE. He loved how soft she was under his large hands, how warm she was against his chest, how he could hold her close without worrying about crushing her outright. He had practically worshipped her the night of their wedding and for the week that had followed, he had made sure she never had a reason to feel so low about herself again. Especially given the challenges that come with being the wife of an Ozeki, he knew how much effort she put into just making his meals much less dealing with his schedules and wrestling matches. On the bright side he can say he makes sure his wife is well fed and spoiled beyond belief, that brought him some relief on days he's supposed to be observing the training of the newer stable mates. Sometimes they just felt long, sometimes he just wanted to be at home and wrapped around his princess. By the time he was getting out of the wood tub she was coming into the room, offering him a sweet smile =. "Dinner just got done, I got some fresh sake earlier from the local distiller he wanted your opinion on, I hope you don't mind," He could only chuckle, (Y/n) had lived in edo all her life, working at her parents resteraunt since she was old enough to help. Because of this she was familiar with all the locals, and more often than not getting to know any new shop keepers or business owners. "That sounds good, a bit of sake sounds nice tonight. You go ahead and get your food, I'll be in there when I'm dressed." He ran his hands through his long wet hair, the dark strands hanging around his face. He quirked a bushy eyebrow when she motioned him to lean down to her level, though his confused look quickly became love struck as she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Her tiny hands easily tucking some of his unruly hair out of his face. "Better hurry, I made your favorite." She winked at him with a giggle, slipping away before he could grab her. "I see, I suppose I should hurry then." As if to prove his hunger his stomach decided to roar, his face had flushed a little as he felt it coming but didn't think it would be THAT loud. He did love her cooking, her food was some of the best he had gotten to try. They had gone to visit his parents at one point and he was overjoyed when both his parents liked her cooking, she had been rather quickly accepted into the family after that.

Raiden was a caring man, a gentle giant that made it easy to adore him. She comforts him after stressful days. She knows how much he hates scaring people, it was one of several reasons as to why he won't raise his voice around his wife much less AT her. Part of him was also afraid it would somehow get across Japan and back to his mom, and he didn't even want to think what his mom would do if she found out he was disrespecting his wife. He had a big aching heart, and while she wished she didn't have to be the one putting on the Band-Aids after he accidentally spooked a new wrestler, she was also more than happy to be by his side and support him in a way no one else could. She saw a man no one else did, and it made her heart soar every time he gives her that content smile of his as he holds her in his arms before they fall asleep at night. (Y/n) happily went about setting the table and getting the sake out and ready, her seat being right next to his as he insisted on having her close whenever he was home. "So how was your day?" Raiden had approached now wearing an open black kinagashi (from my research its basically the simplest type of male kimono, consisting ONLY of haori and an obi belt.), he scratched his slightly exposed chest as he sat beside her. His long hair was left down but had been neatly brushed out, he was at his most comfortable now. "I did some cleaning, picked up some stuff for dinner. I helped at my parents' restaurant around lunch, one of the waitresses hurt her ankle." She smiled as she began to fix her husband a cup of sake as he fixed his food, "I see, I hope it wasn't too stressful. I know you haven't worked there much since we married." He gave her a warm smile, taking his massive cup (practically a bowl given how much bigger he is) from her hands before pressing a kiss to her forehead as thanks. "It wasn't too bad; things have been going well and they plan to hire some people for part time. Which means I won't have to help too much more often. Which is why I wanted to talk to you about something…" She blushed some, hiding her face in the bowl of soup she was eating from as she sipped some of the broth. Raiden had sipped his sake after taking a bit of some cooked beef, raising an eyebrow at her as his own blush spread at seeing her act so shy. He loved how sweet she could be, she looked cute when she was flustered or shy and it made him want to hold her like a puppy. "Of course, we can talk about anything. Is something bothering you?"

(Y/n) took a moment to stuff a large bite of rice into her mouth, buying herself some time to go over the words she had rehearsed in her head earlier in the day. Taking a deep breath, she placed her chopsticks down and turned to face him, Raiden couldn't help but chuckle at how serious she looked despite having a few grains of rice at the corner of her mouth. "I wouldn't say there is anything wrong but… I think we may finally be ready." Her words were softly spoken, Raiden had finished the sake in his cup (bowl) and sat it down when she finished her sentence. At first, he wasn't sure what she meant, but then he recalled the conversation they had the night of their wedding. At the time (Y/n) was afraid of being a mother, so after consummating their marriage they kept anything intimate somewhat controlled to avoid an accidental pregnancy. She had been worried about adjusting to her new life and about his work, she was worried that given his schedule she'd be left to parent the child mostly alone and was afraid that she may mess up or become overwhelmed and do something she would regret. Of course, Raiden assured her that because she was logically worried about this new situation, he knew she would be ok, but had promised to wait til she came to him to take that next step. Though after these last 5 months she had adapted easily, his schedule wasn't as bad as she feared, and she had begun speaking to some of the local mothers to get their advice and the older women had been quick to welcome her and guide her. Teaching and demonstrating some of the basics as well as teaching her how to step back when she was overwhelmed, how to safely handle any stress when dealing with a baby. This had done wonders for her confidence; he had noticed her more set in stone demeanor but had just thought she was simply relaxing into their new life together. "Are you sure? We don't have to jump into it, I'm willing to wait however long you need so don't think-" His words were cut off when her small hand cupped his cheek, giving him a calm smile. "It's ok, I've been thinking and talking to some of the village moms… and I'm ready now. Please Raiden, let me have your child." Her heartfelt plea made him smile wide, his large hand came up to brush the back of his knuckles against her cheek and using his thumb to wipe away the rice by her mouth. "I see, well what kind of husband would I be to deny my wife that which belongs to her. Tonight then, we'll start on our family." He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, her cheeks a cherry red as she closed her eyes and nuzzled into her hand. "Alright then, I'll get cleaned up after dinner then and meet you in the bed." She opened her eyes but looked away, feeling bashful at the inclinations of this promise. It would be their first time together fully as one since their honeymoon. "Take your time, I want you relaxed and comfortable cause we'll be busy for a while.~" He had practically purred at her with a wink, chuckling loudly as she became so flustered, she spun to face her food once more and tried to hide her red face behind her hair. He couldn't wait to see her waddling around their house, hold her stomach for her in his large hands the way he had seem some of the other more loving husbands do for their wives when they have to stand a while. It was something so simple yet intimate, he wanted to experience everything with her. She was the love he chose; she was his ultimate peace in this tempest called life.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Bullshit (You Can Be Mine) - chapter 2

Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin/Natasha “Phoenix” Trace Rating: M (rating has increased) Chapter Count: 2/2

Chapter summary: Fanboy babbles about the laser malfunction while Payback pats him on the back and Phoenix keeps her ear tilted towards the radio, her thoughts hundreds of miles away, sealed beneath the canopy of an F-18 currently being pushed to its limit, riding towards danger with Jake “Hangman” Seresin.

Jake’s on the deck, as punctual and serious about mounting Dagger Spare as the aviators assigned to the primary roles. When Phoenix sees him, she doesn’t realize she’s stopped walking until Bob taps her arm, his helmet clenched in his other hand. He raises his eyebrows at her.

“Go ahead,” she says. She won’t be more than a minute or two behind him. She can’t be.

Bob heads off towards Dagger Three and Phoenix stands back as Jake and Rooster exchange words, looking solemn. There’s this bond between the three of them, something that makes the world feel small even when they’re stationed oceans apart, but she doesn’t intrude right now. Their relationship to one another is always simple, always complicated. Promotions and peacocking and being there for each other, then never mentioning it again so they can keep up this combative façade. The night she wrestled a drunken Rooster out of a bar in the midst of him trying to start a fight with a trio of strangers—rough with him, but terrified because she’d never seen him angry-drunk before—and found out it was the anniversary of his mom’s death. The afternoon she picked Jake up from his grandmother’s funeral after scouring the obituaries to find out where the service was being held and driving across state lines. Rooster crashing her brother’s wedding in one of his fucking Hawaiian shirts because, if she had to be there (guilted heavily by her father), then he would be too, knowing she hated her brother for his vocal, ongoing doubts about a woman’s ability to operate a naval aircraft. The time Jake posed as her long-term boyfriend when she was trying to secure an apartment in a building that didn’t like renting to singles. The time she and Jake helped Rooster move his piano. The time she talked Jake into a tattoo. The time she talked Rooster out of a piercing. The time she spent a week on Rooster’s couch and Jake kept coming by and, together, they ate all of Rooster’s strawberry Pop-Tarts.

Jake tells Rooster to give the enemy hell. Rooster marches off to Dagger Two and Jake turns to find Phoenix standing there.

“Thought I’d have other things to do while I was thinking about you,” he says. “I didn’t anticipate getting grounded here, waiting around with my fucking dick in my hand.”

She cocks her head and smiles, squinting slightly into the sun.

“Don’t pretend thinking about me while holding your dick isn’t something you’ve done before, Bagman,” she teases.

Jake grins. It’s awful—how he’s trying to look ok.

“I’m gonna be thinking about you so hard, you’ll feel it,” he says.

“Like a headache?”

“Why do you have to make it so difficult to be nice to you?”

Because we can’t get sappy, she doesn’t say. Because we can only be strong right now, and if I die out there, you have to understand why I wouldn’t let us say goodbye to each other.

“I have Bob now, and he’s always nice to me. I can take everyone else for granted,” Phoenix says.

“Fucking Bob,” Jake says, shaking his head, but it’s affectionate.

“We’ll have each other’s back up there.”

“Good.”

“Plus, there’s, you know, Payback and Fanboy and Rooster. And Mav, he’s a decent pilot.”

“Knows his nose from his tail, I’ll give him that.”

They smile at one another until the smiles drop away like the horizon.

“I have to go,” she says.

“Yeah.”

When Jake leaves her, it isn’t with some pithy pep talk like he gave Rooster; he moves forward as if to go by her and then grabs her shoulder and kisses her temple. She feels him breathe against her hairline, and then she’s standing there alone.

Phoenix climbs the ladder into Dagger Three.

“All good?” Bob asks, sparing her a probing look between performing his checks.

She settles into her seat and slides her visor into place.

“All good.”

—

There are minutes—maybe ten, maybe thirty—when both she and Jake are safely on the carrier. She’s bathed in sweat inside her flight suit and her hand is cramped from clutching the throttle. Her instinct is to run over to him, but he has to remain at the ready, a silhouette inside the cockpit of Dagger Spare as the sun slips higher in the sky and they all hope against hope for Rooster to make it back. She doesn’t want to rule out the possibility of Mav’s return, but she doesn’t share Rooster’s blind faith in him.

When the order comes down to deploy the reserve aircraft, those minutes feel as though they were just seconds. It wasn’t enough time to sit with the knowledge that she and Jake were both far from danger. Phoenix doesn’t want them out there, not both of them, not with her here. But this is what she and Jake made a promise to be ok with: before they knew they might both fly today, they accepted that it could be just one of them. They’d think about each other. It would keep them alive.

They should go below deck, but they’re heroes and they’re stubborn. With the ground crew’s thick headsets clamped over their ears, they keep back and keep watch. Fanboy grips Payback’s shoulder, Payback hugs Phoenix against him under his arm, Phoenix clasps Bob’s hand and squeezes. The four of them hold each other as the engines of Dagger Spare flare and Jake soars off the carrier. In his wake, she thinks her hearing’s cut out until Bob asks her again, “All good?”

“All good.”

His face says he knows she’s lying. In her defence, he knew she’d lie when he asked the question. She’s glad he asked it anyway.

They do a lot of talking—senseless, dead-end shit—while they hang around the radio. Jake hasn’t said much. He doesn’t have a back-seater he needs to confer with and right now his entire job description is speed. Under any other circumstances, he’d love this, she knows. Well, when the boys come home—when—Jake can brag about flying the fastest rescue mission on record. She won’t roll her eyes, not even when he repeats the story at breakfast. Not even when they get back to North Island and he tells the rest of the candidates, or when he tells them again, or when he tries to tell her for the fiftieth time even though she was right here when it all happened.

Because right here is not up there.

Fanboy babbles about the laser malfunction while Payback pats him on the back and Phoenix keeps her ear tilted towards the radio, her thoughts hundreds of miles away, sealed beneath the canopy of an F-18 currently being pushed to its limit, riding towards danger with Jake “Hangman” Seresin. Clinging to him like a headache.

When his voice crackles through to declare himself a saviour, Phoenix screams with elation and relief. They’re all screaming. She jumps up into Payback’s arms and Fanboy and Bob close in behind her in a TOPGUN sandwich. All three of those assholes are alive. She’s never going to hit Rooster with a pool cue again, no matter how sporadically he says in touch. She’s going to buy Mav as many rounds at the Hard Deck as it takes to inspire a performance of a song it’s rumoured he used to sing. She’s going to ask Jake whether he thinks this timing thing is something the two of them can figure out if they both just try.

They’re on-deck again when he lands, though they stay back because Mav and Rooster are following Jake in—reportedly in a fucking antique. Phoenix still can’t believe it when she sees the F-14 plough into the net and go skidding across the deck. It’s a wreck. It’s a miracle. People are rushing towards the returned pilots and, for the first time today, she leaves Bob and sprints forward on her own.

The swarm around the F-14 is so thick that Bob catches up with her anyway, standing at her back when she gets her arms around Rooster and squeezes him tight. He’s come so far and there’s still so much he’s not ready for; today it’s enough that he’s in one piece. He’s figuring shit out. She’ll be satisfied to be there for him as a friend. Looking over Rooster’s shoulder while they embrace, she catches Mav’s eye. He nods. The more people Rooster lets close, the less intensely she’ll worry about him, want to protect him, want him to love her in a different way than he does for her efforts.

Jake appears and Phoenix makes space for him, space for the boys to once again temporarily lay their cyclical animosity to rest with a handshake. These idiots. Jake doesn’t need validation the same way Rooster does, so she’s happy to put him in his place when he starts getting a swollen head about his kill count. All of them want to be Maverick. Thank god they still have him, because he pulled off the greatest stunt of all: doing all that shit and surviving.

They drop their hands and Jake turns to her. It’s the residual fear that has her heart beating so hard. It’s his stupid, perfectly smug face. They tug each other into a hug. He smells like metal and heat, his gear rough under her chin. How long has it been since she just held him against her? His grandmother’s funeral? Longer? She forgot it felt like this, that the Hangman persona is golden armour that closes around her and makes her untouchable. And they’re inside it, pressed together. She kept telling herself that falling for Jake would be a sign of weakness because what she really forgot is the way they’ve always made each other strong.

They draw apart and other people slap Jake on the back, grab his arms and try to turn him away, but he plants his feet and smiles at her, never breaking eye contact.

“How do you always manage to do the least work and get the most glory?” Phoenix demands.

“It’s all in the timing,” he tells her.

“Huh.” She’s grinning.

“Anyway,” Jake says, “I’m alive, and so are you.”

“That’s a good enough reason,” she says. To do this, she means. To let gratitude and adrenaline slingshot them from Pop-Tarts and drive-ins to maybe letting themselves fall in love.

He gives her a charming smirk, the look in his eyes too transparently sincere to match.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “So why aren’t we?”

—

It’s a little tougher than that.

In spite of the victory, duties onboard the carrier carry on around those directly involved with the mission. It’s busy, and though the party atmosphere does stretch out longer than it technically should (so easily, none of these aviators might’ve made it back), there’s no time to touch Jake’s hand and make a quiet escape. Phoenix drapes an arm over Bob’s shoulder while they boast about their part in the success, and has to pretend her face is flushed from the thrill of the retelling. Really, Jake keeps meeting her eye across the room and smiling beguilingly at her as he chews the lip of a plastic cup. They’re not alone. He needs to quit trying to trick her into believing they are before somebody catches her checking him out.

Eventually, everyone heads off to either complete a neglected piece of post-mission protocol or grab some rack time, like Mav suggests. Nobody here has flown as many missions as he has, but they’ve all done this enough times to know sleep is sound advice. Regardless, Jake starts the good-natured insults about Pops needing a nap after all that excitement. They’re shocked into laughter when Mav flips them a cheerful bird on his way out of the mess.

All of a sudden, Phoenix and Jake are alone. Bob said something about going to get food, but his whereabouts are a background detail to her now. He’s the only person she wouldn’t really have wanted to leave—they’ve just been through hell and back together, operating their aircraft like one person, and, honestly, she loves the guy—so it feels weirdly like permission. Permission to meet Jake’s eye as he wanders over and stands way too close to her. It forces her to look up at him, which is a fucking power trip for Lieutenant Ego here, so she bites her lip to get even; she sees the covetous look in his eyes as he watches her teeth sink into her lip.

He clears his throat.

“We should, uh, get some sleep.”

Phoenix raises her eyebrows.

“After you, Bagman.”

It’s her cabin they stop in front of, of course, and thank god the corridor is empty because his hand is on her waist before she’s even gotten the door open. As it swings inward, Jake’s hands take her hips and twist her towards him. Her arm hooks around the back of his neck and they’re kissing hungrily in the doorway. He backs her into the metal frame, hand slipping up to her lower back, groaning when she tugs his lip with her teeth.

They stumble into the cabin and the only thing on Phoenix’s mind is how fast she can get the bottom half of Jake naked when a crackling, cartoonish snore rips through the air. She and Jake separate so abruptly it’s lucky there isn’t bloodshed.

Whipping their heads around, they find Bob passed out on the bottom bunk she did not expect him to be occupying. What happened to food? What happened to the cute petty officer who made Bob blush with a comment on the power of his laser? Bob’s lying on his stomach, arm dangling off the side and knuckles skimming the floor, and, yeah, it’d be adorable if Phoenix wasn’t beyond ready to find out what Jake sounds like when he shoots his load. She has ambitious plans to make him call her the saviour.

“Unbelievable,” Jake says, so tightly that Phoenix has to hold in a laugh. “He has to know what he’s doing.”

“Drooling?” she checks lightly.

“Cockblocking me.”

Phoenix snorts. She’s suffering too, but… god, it’s Jake. He’s ridiculous.

“I thought we were bros,” he hisses in Bob’s direction, but Bob sleeps on undisturbed, clearly not faking.

“We could try your room?” she suggests.

Jake sighs and shakes his head.

“Nah. The guy I’m sharing with is still off-shift.”

He turns away from the unsatisfactory cabin situation and Phoenix rubs his arm consolingly.

“Can’t win ’em all,” she says, which makes him give her a look like, I’m goddamn Hangman—of course I win ’em all. She rolls her eyes.

“And he stuck you with the shelf,” Jake points out, gesturing to the empty upper bunk, like this ultimate act of passive-aggression on Bob’s part will make her shake her back-seater awake and throw him out on his ass.

“No, that was my call. I prefer being on top.”

Looking agonized, Jake punches his fist gently into the doorframe in frustration.

“Why’d you have to say that?”

“I can’t help it,” Phoenix says soothingly. “I love to see you suffer.”

“God, you’re special. We’re so alike.”

“I’m special because I’m like you?”

His expression slides from pained to seductive, eyes sparkling.

“Two of a kind, baby.”

“Ugh, stop flirting with me. I’m still getting used to the idea of making out with you.” She’s fully used to it, she’s wholeheartedly enjoying it, and she doesn’t actually hate the flirting, it’s just different now that they aren’t doing it to toy with each other and make their peers uncomfortable.

“Can’t,” Jake informs her. “I am never not flirting with you.”

“I’m exhausted just hearing that.” She taps his chest with a finger and signals for him to leave her to do like Bob and pass out for a while.

“Exhaustion isn’t something I experience. My stamina could be considered a medical miracle.”

Phoenix backs him out into the corridor with her whole palm on his chest now, smirking in fond tolerance.

“Goodnight, Bagman.”

“Night, Phoenix.” He grins, then his face goes solemn. Yeah, it’s been one of those days. “Hey…”

“I know,” she says. We almost died. I can’t believe we’re both still here. What’s the normal way to behave? How do we just stay on schedule when I kinda never want you out of my sight again?

“Yeah,” he sighs, and turns to go.

“Hey.” She reaches out to stroke his sleeve, stopping him. Jake looks at her. “I felt you thinking about me.”

Phoenix’s soft smile gets bigger when Jake steps towards her to kiss her one more time.

—

“…but I was thinking…” Rooster is saying, giving her these hangdog eyes. “…that maybe I made a mistake before.”

“Rooster…” Phoenix shakes her head and sighs.

They’ll be leaving within the hour, back to North Island, and she and Rooster have been spending some time talking quietly together. They patched things up between the Hard Deck and the mission, but only superficially—just enough so the other person wouldn’t feel so bad if they died (not that it would’ve worked). Today, they’ve mainly rehashed the mission itself, him giving her a firsthand account of everything she missed by not disobeying a direct order the way he did to go back and hunt for Mav. (She felt sick about it as soon as they learned Mav was alive. She tried to apologize to him yesterday and he wouldn’t accept.) Now, Rooster is redirecting the conversation on a dangerous course. It doesn’t look good, she wants to say. It’s no good.

“Seriously,” he insists, though he doesn’t look very serious because he’s smiling pleadingly in response to her grin of tired disbelief. “We could make it work, Nat. You and me.”

“You’re delusional. No,” she corrects with a laugh and a dismissive wave of her hand, “that’s too harsh. You just wanna get laid.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say no…”

His smile now is sweet. It’s the smile that always makes her forgive him, or stick to coke when she shows up at the bar to find him already halfway to plastered and without a ride home. She cares about him so much. That won’t ever change.

“We’re going home,” Phoenix says gently. “You can keep it in your pants until we’re back stateside. I believe in you.”

And that, plus the look in her eyes, is enough for Rooster to let that be it. He nods and accepts her lighthearted brushoff. Maybe he’ll go reflect. Maybe he’ll hit the Hard Deck as soon as they’re back and seduce some local with a glissando and a smirk. And this time, Phoenix won’t be jealous. She’ll have…

Jake.

When Rooster leaves the room, she sees him standing at the door.

“I was listening,” Jake says, coming in, before she can say anything.

“And?” Phoenix crosses her arms.

“I won’t lie to you, Trace. I really want to rub it in his face.”

She makes an exasperated noise as Jake grins; on the inside, she’s incredibly relieved that she won’t be getting over her own jealousy just to have to contend with Jake’s. Though it is amazing that he’s being (relatively) mature about something. She’ll savour that while it lasts.

Phoenix groans—she can’t look too grateful—and pushes her forehead into her hand.

“I swear to god…”

“Swear away,” Jake invites, beaming. “Your saviour is listening.” He lifts a hand to his ear demonstratively.

She walks up to him and brushes her lips across his lobe.

“You leave Rooster be and there’s a spot in my bed that you can use for anything other than catching up on sleep.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

When she pulls back, there are goosebumps all over his neck.

Suddenly, Jake and Rooster are chummier than they’ve been in years.

—

What kind of home can you make in less than three weeks? How can a space be yours when you don’t have the time or permission to change the colour of the paint, to send mail from your new address, to hang your favourite snapshots in frames instead of sticky-tacking them to the wall? Phoenix is used to impermanence. The surprise is what Jake’s presence does to her room.

His face is in some of those pictures, and it’s him who finally makes her feel like she belongs here. He takes away the confusion she felt at being called back to TOPGUN as he pulls her shirt over her head, runs his fingers through her loose hair. He rewrites their pompous meeting at the Hard Deck when his lips meet her neck, her shoulder, the base of her throat as he lowers the straps of her bra. Linking her fingers through his, she brings him with her across the floor, up the bed, the two of them rumpling the sheets she tucked neatly into place every morning as an exertion of control during an assignment whose parameters were themselves so oppressive.

For every time she flew the simulated course wrong, Jake touches her right, his hands lifting her hips as he slips her underwear off. For every weapons-lock tone she heard when she lost a dogfighting exercise, she hears one of Jake’s soft groans as she grips his short hair and pushes his head down her body. For all the petty provocations and the name-calling and the missed opportunities to look at one another and just honestly say, I missed you, they listen to each other as Jake’s head moves between her thighs, as his hips do a little later. Phoenix braces her damp palms against his well-muscled back and the wall at the head of her bed as he sends the mattress colliding with it in slow, hard thumps. She calls him kinder things than “Bagman” and he murmurs, “Tasha,” right when she thinks he’s going to lose it but he flips them instead. You prefer being on top? His self-satisfied grins seem never-ending until she teases him closer and closer to the edge.

Though he does smile again when he gets there. She learns that.

If it were the only thing she’s learned since coming back here, it’d be worth the trip.

[plaidbooks]

Hi, I have a request! From the prompt list, “I lost our baby.” Rafael Barba x Reader

A Family

A/N: Oof, that’s a sad request! I couldn’t do the full sad; it’s...too real to me, but I hope you still enjoy. Obviously, this is gonna be angst, but with a happy ending. This jumps around a bit in the beginning before settling in--just some background on how you and Rafael met and stuff. Thanks for the request, @infiniteoddball !

Tags: allusions to smut (gotta make a baby somehow), mentions of child abuse, mentions of rape/murder, some derogatory language, pregnancy scares

Words: 2257

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @dianilaws

Rafael Barba couldn’t believe that he could ever be so happy in his life. When he dated in high school, he often fantasized about the normal, picturesque life laid out before him—good job, own a house, married, have a couple kids. Then in college, he started doubting himself more and more about the children part, and after Yelina, he started doubting the married part as well. One drunken night with Olivia, she had asked him, “ever thought about having children?” It wasn’t a secret that she wanted to be a mother; that’s how this conversation started. He had shaken his head, brushed it off, but she had pushed him. “Really? Just not your thing?”

He could’ve lied and said yes, let it die right then. But he couldn’t lie to Liv; she’d see right through him anyways. Besides, he still felt pangs of jealousy when he’d go for a stroll in the park, watch dads playing catch with their kids, or teaching them to ride a bike.

“Cause I don’t want to be my father,” he had said before finishing his drink and leaving Forlini’s, jaw still clenched. Olivia, thankfully, had dropped it after that.

It was months later that Rafael had met you. You were a journalist; you had met while Rafael was working a highly controversial case. And while he normally hated the press, refusing to talk to them, he had agreed to an interview with you…mostly because you had assured him you were on his side. He was incredibly thankful he had accepted, because you had both started dating a week later, and you never looked back.

A few months after that interview, Rafael asked you to move in with him, and a year after that, he had proposed. Everything was perfect, except for one thing; you wanted children. Rafael was still hesitant, afraid to continue the cycle of abuse that’s been passed down through generations on his paternal side. But after a very, very long talk, you had him convinced that he was nothing like his father, and that you would make sure he wouldn’t become like him. Besides, after becoming so close with Rafael, you had also grown close to Olivia, and you assured him that the Sergeant would kick his ass if he ever did anything to hurt you or your kids. So, after your wedding, you both spent the honeymoon trying to get pregnant. It was almost shocking how you didn’t end up pregnant with how little you left the bedroom. But now, after an amazing birthday celebration, you held the positive test in your hands, smiling at your husband.

“I’m going to be a father?” Rafael muttered, his voice hopeful, happy. You could see the slightest bit of concern in his green eyes, and you leaned up, kissing him gently.

“You’re going to be an amazing father,” you whispered against his lips. He grinned against you, pulling you into a tight embrace, one hand going to rest on your stomach.

Rafael felt bad with how much he worked; he wanted to be home, doting on you, especially as the months went by and you started showing more and more. You were embarrassed at first as your belly swelled up, but Rafael’s eyes just sparkled as he thought about the life growing within you; the life you created together. He would take half-days, sometimes full days off, and he was never too tired after a day at work, always caring and attentive to you when he came home. But he still didn’t feel like it was enough.

 ********************

It was midday, and court had just concluded, with Justin Fitzgerald being sentenced to life in prison for the vicious rapes and murders of five women. He was still screaming profanities at Rafael, promising to kill the counselor, as he scooped all his paperwork into his briefcase. He ignored the man that was dragged away, headed to processing, and then on to Rikers.

“Good work, Barba,” Olivia said, patting his shoulder.

He gave her a curt nod, a small smile on his lips. “Jury made the right call. But I’ll confess that I’ll sleep better knowing someone like Fitzgerald is behind bars. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I would like to try and get out of here early tonight; my wife is due to give birth any moment, and I want to be with her as much as possible.”

Olivia gave him a bright smile; she was the happiest for you and Rafael, besides the two of you yourselves. She had already helped you pick out a bunch of clothes—you were projected to have a little girl—and necessities. Rafael matched her smile, his heart fluttering at the thought of holding his baby for the first time, before he moved to leave the courtroom, heading towards his office in One Hogan Place.

 *****************

He was just packing up when his phone rang, Olivia’s number flashing at him. Brow furrowed, Rafael answered, “Liv? Everything—”

“Fitzgerald escaped during the transfer to Rikers. I’m sending Fin and Amaro to your office; lock your door and wait there until they show up,” Olivia said in a rush.

Rafael’s heart plummeted. He hurried to his door, telling Carmen to leave, then closing and locking his door. “Liv, [Y/N]…I need—”

“I’ll send Rollins and Carisi. They’ll escort her to the precinct; we’ll get her, Raf.”

He nodded into his phone, swallowing past the lump in his throat. He hung up, finding your number, and calling you.

 *****************

“Okay, Rafi, don’t worry, baby. I’m sure Rollins and Carisi will be here soon. I’ll call you when I make it to the precinct, okay? Just take some deep breaths, love,” you were saying into the phone. Your own heart was beating faster, but you had to remain calm, for Rafael’s sake as much for your baby. There was a sharp knock at the door. “That must be them; I’ll call in a bit.” You hung up before you heard Rafael scream into the phone, wondering how the detectives had gotten there so fast.

You heaved yourself off the couch, waddling to the door, your hand on your lower back. There was no peephole in the door, but you left the chain on—something Olivia taught you—as you opened the door to make sure it was Rollins and Carisi. But the face staring back at you was foreign, deranged, a wicked grin on his face, a glint in his eye. You barely had time to move out of the way before he kicked the door open, the chain snapping easily.

“Where’s that shit-stain, Barba?” he growled at you.

“I-who? You must have the wrong building,” you replied, backing away from the man. It was then that you noticed he had a gun in his hand. Deep breaths you told yourself, trying to stay calm. But your body started trembling, and you felt tears in your eyes.

The man towered over you. “Nah; see that’s the problem with being a public figure nowadays. No privacy anymore.” The man looked you up and down, sneering. “You the whore he knocked up, then?”

You shook your head. “I-I don’t know who you’re talking about…please, just leave,” you begged, your watery voice barely audible.

The man just smiled that wicked smile as he moved closer to you. You tried to back away, but he was much quicker, wrapping an arm around your throat from behind. “Come on, baby. We’re going for a ride,” he muttered in your ear, making you shudder. You could do nothing but try and keep up with his pace as he led you out the front door, down the hallway and to the elevator, his gun to your head the whole way. Your legs were shaking by the time you made it to the front door of the building, the man forcing you down the steps.

“Freeze, Fitzgerald!” a female voice called. He turned towards the voice, and you were face to face with Detective Rollins, her gun aimed at his face. She glanced at you, making sure you were unharmed before her attention went back to the man; Fitzgerald, apparently.

“You try anything, and Barba’s whore is dead,” he sneered at her.

That’s when you felt it; a small pop inside you, and then a rush of liquid on your thighs. “I…I think my water just broke,” you muttered, your eyes filling with tears. This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen, and you were starting to panic. Rollins looked more distressed, and Fitzgerald knew he was going to win this standoff.

Everyone you had talked to had warned you that after your water broke, the contractions would start off small, like mild period cramps, before ramping up. Which is why you knew something had to be wrong. You screamed in pain as a contraction hit, your knees buckling. You slumped in Fitzgerald’s grip as your body went limp with pain, and he had to struggle to hold you. Which is when Carisi, who had been slowly sneaking up behind you both, grabbed Fitzgerald’s gun, wrestling it from his hands. He dropped you as he fought the male detective, and Rollins was on you, taking your hand in hers as the pain subsided.

“I got him,” Carisi panted, cuffing Fitzgerald.

Rollins glanced at him, nodding. “Okay. Call a bus, we need to get—”

She was cut off by another scream from you, pain rocketing through your body. Tears were streaming down your face, and you were sure you were going to break her hand with how hard you were clutching her, Rafael’s name escaping your lips.

When you stopped screaming, Rollins said, “fuck the bus, I’m taking her to the hospital. Call for a lift to Rikers.” And with the strength of Superwoman—or a cop with high adrenaline—Rollins dragged you to your feet, whispering encouragement into your ears the whole walk to her squad car.

“Something’s wrong…I lost our baby…I’m sorry Raf…” you whimpered, openly weeping.

Rollins rubbed your back soothingly. “It’s gonna be fine; once you’re in the hospital, you’re gonna get help, and you’ll see. It’s gonna be okay,” she just kept repeating this over and over again. You had barely sat down in the passenger seat when you screamed again.

 ***********************

“Go faster!” Rafael ordered through gritted teeth from the backseat of Fin’s squad car.

“We already have the streets cleared and sirens on; this is the fastest we can go,” Amaro explained from the passenger seat.

When Carisi had called Rafael, telling him his wife was in labor, not even the two detectives ordered to protect him could keep him in his office. Carisi tried to explain what had happened, but Rafael had stopped listening after hearing the words “Fitzgerald broke in” and “in labor”. His heart was in his throat, and his grip on the back of the passenger seat would tear a lesser fabric.

“Bullshit; go faster,” Rafael barked back. They were a block away, the hospital looming in the distance, and it took everything in Rafael to sit still as they approached. Fin had barely stopped the car in front of the sliding doors before Rafael rocketed out of backseat, sprinting to the front desk. He asked for your room, but in his rush, he was speaking too quickly, and the nurses telling him to calm down was only making him more nervous.

“Barba, over here!” Carisi called, waving to the counsellor. Rafael took off after the detective, narrowly avoiding nurses and doctors. The taller man led him to the elevator, hitting floor 4, and then the longest elevator ride in Rafael’s life took place. “Fitzgerald is safely in Rikers now,” Carisi said, as if that mattered at all. Rafael gave him a pointed glare, and Carisi took the hint.

The doors dinged, and Rafael launched out before he realized he didn’t know which way to go. Looking back at Carisi, the detective waved him along, leading him to a quiet room, Rollins sitting in a chair outside. Now that he was here, Rafael came to a top outside the door, terrified, hesitating to go inside, afraid of what he’d find. But Rollins stood, giving him a soft smile, a nod. Taking a deep breath, Rafael entered.

You were laying in the hospital bed, propped up with pillows, a small bundle in your arms. You glanced up at Rafael as he came over to you, tears in your eyes and the brightest smile on your face.

“Rafi, there’s someone you should meet,” you murmured, slowly holding the bundle out to him.

Rafael’s heart skipped a beat as he saw his daughter’s face, the small patch of black hair on her head. He carefully scooped her into his arms, bouncing his knees as if it were natural. “Thank God, she looks just like you,” he said softly, voice full of awe.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I think she looks more like you. When her eyes were open for a moment, they had your green.”

Rafael smiled at you, before his eyes went back to the bundle of joy in his arms; his daughter. “She’s perfect.”

“Yes, she is,” you agreed. “I was so scared today…I thought I might have lost—”

“Don’t,” Rafael said, cutting you off. “All that matters is that she’s happy and healthy, and that you’re safe.” He leaned down, kissing your forehead softly. “We’re a family; that’s all I care about.” Rafael Barba couldn’t believe that he could ever be so happy in his life.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Widow 🖤

Warnings: nonconsent (fingering and intercourse)

This is dark!(mob)Buckyand explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: It’s the 1920s and everyone’s having a roaring time but you.

Note: What is this? A one shot? Possible series? I’m posting this at 930 pm and I don’t even know anymore. But anyway, hope you enjoy.

Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You thought yourself fortunate not to have worn black for Billy during the war, but the day had come regardless. You clutched his dog tags as the rain poured over your hat and soaked through your wool coat. Painfully ironic to think he evaded a thousand bullets in France just to catch one at home.

An unfortunate ending followed by an even more tragic send-off. No one but you and the priest. None of the corpsmen could make it to the funeral and his family hadn’t spoken to him since well before the war. It was better they stayed on their farm and tended their fields. They always said Billy would die in the city.

Would they be smug to know they were right or sorry for it? 

You stared at the casket as the wet dirt was piled atop it. Each landed with a duller thump than the last. The police officer told you they found him in an alley. You supposed it was better than a bloated corpse at the bottom of a river. At least you knew he was gone. You could move on… but to what?

When there was nothing left to mark Billy but a flat headstone and a low mound of dirt, the priest left. He offered you a ride but you refused. You needed to be alone. You had to get used to that.

You didn’t move until you heard the thunder. You glanced up at the howling sky and felt the cold metal on your finger. Billy bought the ring after he came home; you’d spent the war with a loop of twine as its placeholder. 

His job at the banker saw him well in those first months after but he was always a man who wanted more. You warned him against the thoughts you saw twinkling in his eyes. One night a week he went down to the speakeasy and gambled; never enough to see you out of more than a loaf of bread or two. He liked the thrill, though surely the danger lured him more. 

You overheard him on the phone. He was helping the men down at the drinking hole case the bank. A one time hit wasn’t going to keep him so long as his teller position. You argued as he tried to wiggle out of a thin lie; you misheard him. It ended with him promising you nothing would happen.

Maybe he had been honest. Maybe he tried to back out and got the bullet as his penance. You couldn’t know for sure but what you did was that it was those men at the speakeasy who did this to him. They had paid him with a coffin; not a very nice one as you couldn’t afford more than pine.

You trudged away, your heeled boots wet from toe to ankle. You tore your veil from your hat and let the rain run down your face. You still hadn’t cried. Why?

You neared the brick building and let yourself in. You climbed up to the small apartment you and Billy shared. Had shared. You shoved the key in and your numbness disappeared all at once. It was unlocked. Through the muffled thunder and constant patter, you could hear movement within. It was too late to turn back as the door opened from the other side.

The man who greeted you wore a finely tailored suit;grey lined with blue. He stared back at you, his mouth a firm line framed by his square jaw. You swung without thinking, the chain that held Billy’s tags still around your fingers. The stranger caught your hand just before it could hit him and one of the metal tags bounced off his chin.

“Hey,” He grabbed your other arm and wrestled with you. “What are you doing?”

“Get off,” You struggled as his arms slipped around you and crushed you against his chest. Your arms were trapped between your bodies as he grunted. “Help me! Someone--”

“No one’s gonna help ya, doll,” He sneered. “Even if they do hear ya.”

“Stop!” You tried to wriggle free. “Please, I don’t know what you want but--”

“I want you to be still. You won’t like it if I have to make you.” He squeezed until the air was forced from your lungs. He was terribly strong. “And you seem like a lady’s who faced enough pain today.”

“What do you want?” You gasped as you tried to stomp his foot blindly.

“Not gonna tell you until you calm down.” He insisted.

You bared your teeth and reluctantly stilled. You glared at him and huffed. “Just take whatever it is you’re looking for. Please. I just buried my husband… maybe you’ll do me the favour of digging me in next to him.”

The tension in his jaw relented just as little as he looked at you. He pulled you through the door and turned around so that he was between you and the hallway. He let you go and kicked the door shut. You gripped the chain tighter.

“Now don’t you go trying that shit again,” He scowled as his hand settled on his hip just above a pistol. “I really don’t wanna hurt you, doll.”

“That’s not my name,” You bristled. “Now tell me what you’re doing here.”

You turned your head as you heard shuffling from the other room. He was silent as he listened too.

“You’re Billy’s wife?” He asked.

“Widow,” You corrected. “Though I suspect you knew that already. Now tell me--”

“What’s your name then, doll?”

You reluctantly told him and he gave you his; Bucky, as his men knew him.

“Come, sit,” He gestured you further in. “I said calm down.”

You pursed your lips and slowly turned around. You entered the front room and frowned. The sofa was the only piece of furniture not overturned. You crossed your arms and as you neared it.

“You should take that coat off,” He intoned. “You’ll get a cold sitting in that.”

You didn’t respond, merely unbuttoned the wool jacket and slung it over the arm of the sofa. You slipped the tags in your pocketbook and set it atop the coat. You sat and looked to him as he tucked his hands in his pockets. He strode around the room as the noise of intrusion continued from the other room.

“How long were you married to good old Billy?” He asked.

“Does it matter?” You said.

“Judging by the photos,” He neared the corner and lifted a cracked frame, “I’d say you’ve been with him since before the war. That’s a long time. At least eight years together, wed or not.”

“What are you looking for?” You asked.

“Something that if you knew, you’d not tell me anyway,” He considered the picture as he neared. “And poor Billy took to his grave. My condolences.”

You scoffed and unpinned your hat. You tossed it onto the floor with the rest of the mess.

“I don’t want them,” You hissed. “So better get on with your search and leave me alone. Not taking any of this mess with me, anyway.”

“Taking it with you?” He repeated. “And where would you be going?”

“Don’t see how that’s of concern to you,” You countered.

He chuckled and looked around. He grabbed the armchair and righted it before dragging it over. He sat before you and leaned forward.

“Billy definitely learned a lot from that bank. If you must know, he lifted some money off my organisation and with the amount left outstanding, you’d have quite the life.” He said. “So you leaving all sudden is suspicious, isn’t it?”

“My husband is dead. I haven’t a job and I can’t pay the rent with grief.” You replied. “I’d say it’s practical.”

He smiled and leaned back as he crossed his legs. He bit his thumb as he watched you. Your possessions crashed and shattered in the other room. You looked at the clock then the window. The sky was grey and foreboding.

“So, if you got no money, where would you be going?” He asked at last.

“Again, I don’t see how that’s any of your concern.” You uttered.

He tapped his bottom lip with his fingertips. He nodded and reached into his jacket. He checked the time and stood. 

“Stay.” He jabbed his finger towards you. “You won’t make it far.”

You sighed and looked at your lap. His footsteps walked down the hall and his voice followed.

“It’s not here, Steve.” He said. “He was foolish but not stupid. He wouldn’t hide it under his pillow.”

There was an answer but you didn’t listen. Billy stole money and in return he got a bullet. Just another small town boy dead in the city. And he hadn’t even told you. You were all alone, penniless, and soon to be homeless.

“Head back to house, have the men scour the city. Worse comes to worse, we visit that fancy little bank,” The voices grew louder and you looked up as another man appeared from the hallway. 

His dark blonde hair was slicked back and his blue eyes twinkled in contrast to his black suit. He peeked over at you then back to the other man. He lifted a brow but shrugged.

“Alright, boss,” He said. “See ya there?”

“Shortly,” The other assured and followed him to the door.

When the second man left, the first closed the door and turned the lock. He returned to you and pulled the chair aside. He began to pace again as he thought. You stood and he turned to you abruptly. He raised a hand.

“Where are you going?”

“You going to be here all day?” You wondered.

“Bit of patience,” He coaxed. “I was only trying to think of a way to help a poor widow such as yourself.”

“I don’t want your help.”

“But you need it.” He smirked.

You stared at him. The curve of his lips made your stomach curdle.

“The way I see it, your man’s gone. Got himself killed for being a thief.” He neared you slowly, “Most men of my stature would go so far as you see you in the ground next to him… but I am not any man.”

You watched him uneasily as he stopped before you. 

“Well, now you’re gonna need one of two things. A job,” He held up a finger, “Or a man. And I can see that you get neither in this city without my say so.” He flicked up a second finger then suddenly turned his hand. He cupped your face in his palm as his thumb rubbed along your lip. “I’m not hiring though so I suppose I can offer the latter.”

You shoved him away and stumbled back. “You killed my husband. Why would I--”

“He got himself killed and while I bid the trigger pulled, I didn’t do it myself,” He argued. “Hard snake to catch, that Billy.”

“Get out of my apartment.” You demanded. “What you want isn’t here so go!”

“Oh but what I want is here,” He trailed you as you stormed to the door. “Because if I can’t have what Billy took from me, I’ll have what’s left of his in this world.”

You unlocked the door and opened it just an inch before he slammed it shut with his hand. You turned to slap him but your hand froze as the barrel of a gun gaped back at you. You dropped your arm and leaned against the door. He slowly lowered the pistol and dragged the muzzle along your neck and chest.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep ya better than he did.” He slithered. “Place like this? Nothing to what I can give ya.”

“Please, go--”

“You know, I was hoping to be out of here before you got back. I hate dealing with widows, but you, oh, I see what Billy saw… and more,” He carefully sheathed his pistol at his belt. “I can see why he wanted to give you more. Give you everything.”

His arm rested against the door beside your head as he got even closer. You could taste his breath on your lips.

“I’m gonna give you everything and then some.” He growled.

He bent suddenly and scooped you up. He forced himself between your legs as he pushed you against the door. You beat on his shoulders as he pressed his lips to yours. You grunted helplessly as his hand crawled beneath your skirt and past your stocking. He played with your garter as his tongue poked between your lips.

You bit down but he was quick. He pulled away before you could catch his tongue and he sneered.

“You make me bleed, I’ll have to make you bleed,” He pinched your thigh. “And you don’t want that.”

His hand crept up your pelvis and he gripped the top of your underwear. He tore them easily as his other hand kept your right leg propped up against his hip. You grasped at his suit and begged as the heat pricked at your flesh.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” He purred as he bent and nipped at your throat. “Better than he did.” 

You grunted between your teeth, unable to free yourself from between him and the door. His fingers slid down your folds and pushed deeper as he drew them back up. He twirled them around your bud and you shuddered. You closed your eyes in shame as your body spasmed.

“Woman like you can’t be alone,” He cooed. “And I can tell you don’t wanna be.”

He flicked his fingers back and forth until you were writhing, your nails embedded in his blazer as you bit down on your lip. He rescinded his hand and fumbled with the front of his trousers. His buckle clinked loudly and stoked another wave of panic in you.

He was quick to line himself up with your entrance. You brought your hand up to claw at his face and he just as swiftly batted it away before he gripped his cock once more. He pushed inside as his other hand released your thigh and went to your throat. Your leg remained hooked over his hip as he sank to his limit.

You whined and he thrust sharply. You threw your head back against the door and scratched at his shoulders. He kept his pace slow and steady, as if to tease, knowingly drawing the pleasure from you as the friction filled you with a terrible fullness. 

He choked you harder as he sped up little by little. You could barely rasp past his clutch but your strangled moans escaped nonetheless. You closed your eyes and tried not to think of how thin the walls were; how clearly any in the hall could hear if they happened to pass by. 

You couldn’t bear it anymore as your core began to pulse. You slapped his shoulders as you came and the tension snapped in a whirlwind. You drowned in the waves of ecstasy as he fucked you harder and harder. Your pitiful mewls only seemed to feed his lust and your shame.

The door shook as he fucked you against it, his head beside yours as he trapped you between him and the wood. His groans were wild and loud. He nibbled at your ear as his hand slid down to your chest and cupped your tit through your black dress. 

His other hand hit the door in a fist as he cried out and your eyes sprang open. His body quaked as he spilled inside of you. His body twitched as he slowed and he threw his head back as he panted. He swallowed his hand grazed along your stomach lazily.

He eased out of you and let your leg fall. Your legs threatened to collapse beneath you as you clung to the door. Your skirt slowly slipped back into place as your underwear sat disposed between your feet. He did up his pants and cleared his throat. He took out his watch again. 

“Get your coat, doll,” He said. “No time to waste.”

🖤🖤🖤

[irondadfics]

Hey! Any fics where Peter is insecure about his relationship/thinks Tony doesn’t want to be around him or is embarrassed of him?

INSECURE!PETER REC LIST

Been awhile since we did a rec list! In this list we feature fics where Peter questions his role in Tony’s life for various reasons. ENJOY LOVELIES!!

And if you need a friend, then please just say the word by frostysunflowers @frostysunflowers

“Three cracked ribs, a broken wrist and a heavy blow to the head, along with multiple cuts and bruises.Not so bad as Spider-Man injuries go.So why is he driving like an absolute maniac towards the tower (a hastily repurchased tower to stand in place of the decimated compound) with a roiling churn of something bitter and painful in his stomach.Because before, Peter would always call him. Always.This time though…The kid called Happy instead.”

Delicate by Bean_reads_fanfic @the-reverse-mermaid

It starts here: Peter, in his Spider-Man suit minus the mask, caught deer-in-the-headlights-style in front of a person he’s never met before in the kitchen of his and May’s apartment.“You’re, uh, what’s-his-name –” The guy coughs a bit, swallowing. He points at Peter, his voice getting higher as he goes: “P – uh – Peter, right? You’re – you’re Spider-man?!”…One unfortunate encounter starts a chain of frustrating events; in the process of which, Peter’s insecurities are examined. Including but not limited to: his worries that Tony cares about Spider-Man more than Peter Parker.

Alone by Lost_And_Longing

Alone. Yes, that’s the key word, the most awful word in the English tongue. Murder doesn’t hold a candle to it and hell is only a poor synonym.- Stephen KingAfter four months with no contact between him and Mr. Stark, Peter finally comes to a conclusion he should have come to much, much earlier.Basically, Peter has depression. And no, not the romanticized version.

Learned to lose you, can’t afford to. by ironspidereilish

Peter Parker’s biggest fear is that everyone he loves dies, so when one of Tony’s jokes hits a little too close to home, Peter tries to distance himself from his father-figure/mentor/hero. Unfortunately, a mission going wrong and landing him in the Tower’s med-bay means he has nowhere to hide when Tony asks him what’s wrong.————————————“Jesus, kid, you’re gonna send me to an early grave,” the billionaire joked, still massaging his temples with his eyes closed. Because of this, Tony never saw how quickly Peter’s face paled as he stumbled back a few steps in dreaded realisation. The older man never saw the absolute terror in the boy’s eyes- eyes that were suddenly glistening with tears- caused by his thoughtless words.—————-(now with a cute epilogue, too!)

Memories by radioactive_storm @mala-sadas

When Tony snapped his fingers and saved the universe, there were consequences. Instead of losing his life, he lost an arm…and his memories. And Peter Parker may be the only person who can help him get them back.

Porcelain by macabre

She constantly calls Tony a child of excess and Peter a child of absence. It makes Tony cringe every time. “He’s not used to having all of these things, and the things that he was offered in previous foster situations came at a price. You know this. Just be careful.”

Becoming Belonging by sahiya

Peter barely remembered the week after he came back, five years and two minutes after dying on Titan. But he did remember this: looking at Morgan Stark and feeling––to his immediate shame––wildly, insanely jealous that Morgan had had those five years with Tony and Peter hadn’t.

Sunlight by ArdenSkyeHolmes221 @ardenskyedarcy221b

“Stop pouting and ignoring me. You’re giving me a complex.”“I am— I’m not pouting,” he sputters, avoiding his father’s gaze.“Oooh, but you are ignoring me.”***Or the one where Peter struggles reintegrating in his own life after his dad lived five years without him.

What We Lose in the Fire We Gain in the Flood by xxx_cat_xxx @xxx-cat-xxx

The universe is saved, Thanos is defeated, the Vanished are returned, and Tony has survived (though with severe radiation burns and one less arm). Everything should be good now - except that it isn’t.While Tony embarks on a painful and frustrating recovery, he wrestles with the fear that he’s no longer capable of caring for his family. Meanwhile, Peter tries to find his place in a world that just doesn’t feel like his own anymore.

From now on by peterparkr @peterparkrr

Peter’s fixating on the tie.It’s red. Hot rod red, Tony said. It doesn’t look right. Maybe it’s too long. Tony said it looked fine in the store. It doesn’t look like it had that day anymore. Peter can’t stop fiddling with it.ORPeter's sure that Tony and Pepper's wedding will change everything

I wouldn’t drink that if I were you, kid by Lequia

In which Peter Parker feels abandoned, Tony Stark manages to screw things up even more, and DUM-E may or may not have found another fire extinguisher.

breathe by ciaconnaa @ciaconnaa

Morgan looks mortified. “What? No!” she exclaims, holding out her hand against Peter’s chest. “You can’t kill a spider.”Peter frowns, brow furrowed. He’s not spent a lot of time around kids, ever, but he’s never met one that actually likes spiders. Hell, he hasn’t met anyone who likes spiders. Peter himself doesn’t even like spiders, and a spider is the one that gave him a six pack. “Huh?”“They're good luck! Don't you know?”He's not sure he does.(canon-compliant, post endgame)

A Heart Grows (With More People To Love) by josywbu 

When there's a newborn Stark on the horizon Peter starts to question his place in the family he has come to view as his own.Good thing Tony has an abundance of parenting books at his disposal and knows exactly (kind of) what to do.

A Tremendous Thing by ExpectoPatronum

“Daddy's read this to me hundreds of times,” Morgan confesses around a yawn, snuggling closer until she can see the first illustration clearly, “but he accidentally ripped out the ending, so it doesn’t have any pictures.”Startled, Peter flips ahead to the last chapters of the book -- sure enough, the final two chapters are missing. “Are you sure you want to read this one?”By the time Tony checks in on the pair of them, Wilbur is beginning to feel lonely in his pen, Peter’s arm is full of pins-and-needles and Morgan is fast asleep.——Peter spends Father's Day at the lake house. He tries not to overthink it.

[thewanderingace]

Okay I'm a little less emotional now and I've processed a bit so here's my disorganized thoughts during and about Lucifer season 6

Massive MASSIVE amount of spoilers under the cut!!

Lucifer has been my favorite show for the last 5 years and I've been through so many ups and downs with it that saying goodbye to it was HARD. The whole season just utterly wrecked me. I think I cried at least twice an episode but the final 2 episodes was non stop sobbing. Non stop.

To me, it felt like this season was one long goodbye and I loved it. Not just the cast and crew saying goodbye to the fans and the show but it gave us a way to say our goodbyes to the characters through them and I'm grateful for that. Did it hurt like a bitch the whole time? Oh yeah. My heart aches. But we got to say goodbye and it's not often we get to do that with tv shows. Even if not everything went the way I wanted to, I'm okay with that. I cried my eyes out the whole time and for hours afterwards but now that my emotions have settled somewhat, I'm okay with it all. I kinda like the bittersweetness of it.

Overall I loved the final season. It had some great funny moments, soooooo much intimate Deckerstar I mean the love between them is palpable every second they're together, and so many great character moments. This was really about the characters and the emotions and less about murders and action and plot. And as a fan of emotional character moments I loved that. And Tom's acting was fucking out of this world. I mean they all were but Tom especially gave the performance of a lifetime in my opinion.

Going into this final season my checklist of things I want to see happen was as follows:

Ella finds out the truth about the celestials

Lucifer does not become God. In fact I want him to focus on changing hell and helping people move on past their guilt and go to Heaven. Like Dan. I want him to help people like Dan. Or just change the system entirely so people like Dan don't end up in Hell

Amenadiel does become God

Linda continues being the therapist to the celestials

No more Maze and Lucifer fighting with each other

Dan moving on to Heaven and being with Charlotte

Ella being happy with Carol

Deckerstar happy and together at the end

That was everything I wanted and you know what? I GOT IT!

Ella not only found out that they were all celestials, she figured it out on her own!! She's so smart! And I love how she was just 100% cool with it all because her faith has always been so strong. It was the fact that they didn't tell her that upset her and yeah I'm upset about that too and I really wish one of them had told her that they didn't tell her because they didn't want to hurt her. Linda and Chloe both knew how difficult it was for them to learn and Lucifer saw how affected they were. So they were in a way trying to protect Ella from pain. She had every right to be mad and upset. But I'm thrilled she is in the know now and the way she ran after Amenadiel to see him fly was amazing.Just the look on her face as she saw an angel fly was perfect.

I liked Linda's boredom with human problems as a therapist and how she's feeling unfulfilled in regular day to day problems. It's something I wondered about last season and I'm glad it was addressed. And I love that she continues to treat celestials like Adam XD. I wonder if her practice will just turn into a celestial therapy practice. Angels, demons, etc. All are welcome and she'd be amazing at it.

This is the best that Lucifer and Maze's relationship has ever been and I am LOVING IT! He asked for her advice and she didn't make fun of him or say something mean, she actual gave him her advice and he listened to it! Maze then supported his awkward ways of trying to get to know Rory and tried to show Rory that's he's trying! And when she asked him for help with Adam he came! And he listened to her!! She said her feelings and he listened!! And reacted appropriately!! AND HELPED HER!! "My best fiends wedding" omg!!! AND THEN!! He openly admits that she's his best friend during his goodbye!! I love it!! And he opens his arms for a hug!! AND THEY ACTUALLY HUGGED!!! Maze and Lucifer this season was so good!!!!

I had a feeling even before going into this season that Lucifer would not end up as God but that Amenadiel would and I am soooo glad that that is what happened! Lucifer as God didn't feel right and I'm glad there was a several episode long arc of Lucifer slowly coming to realize that not only is it not his calling but he doesn't want to do that job. He wants to help people but not like that. I love that growth for him.

I actually really liked Carol and I think he and Ella are cute together and I hope they'll be very happy. I mean the cuteness factor of them doing bad karate moves together nearly killed me. I also loved that Ella's trauma with Pete didn't go away but was embraced. Of course she wouldn't be okay after all that and I'm glad the writers didn't ignore it.

THE DECKERSTAR!!! THIS SEASON WAS PEAK DECKERSTAR AND I AM LIVING!!!! Where do I even start with this?! The Deckerstar love this season was so high that it destroyed me at the end. I mean the touches, the looks, the hugs, the kisses, the dancing, the dates, the beach cuddle, the nose kisses, the forehead kisses, the casual I love yous, the flying together, sexy times, the mutual support for each other, the pure LOVE between was so incredible. The fact that they had to be separated for so long, Lucifer alone in Hell and Chloe raising two kids alone, fucking hurts me heart so damn much but we got so many wonderful moments with them that it will sustain me. I mean their goodbye was so fucking beautiful and I'm devastated. It wouldn't so much if they're love wasn't so beautiful.

Some other things I really enjoyed about the season:

Lucifer geeking out about magic! That was hilarious and I loved how he tried so hard to not know how the tricks worked.

All of Episode 3. I really enjoyed this episode for a variety of reasons. 1 being the funny craziness of the cartoon hell loop. I mean that was bonkers and I couldn't stop laughing. I loved it. I also loved seeing Lucifer under control of the hell loop and how he made it so Jimmy could be with him mom. But what I loved most about it is this glimpse into what I assume Chloe and Lucifer are doing post show (also kinda confirmed by Ildy and Joe). We see the two of them investigating people's (Jimmy Barnes') hell loops for answers to their guilt in order to help them move onto Heaven. I love that with all my heart. They both continue to help people, Lucifer using what he's learned from Linda to help them with their emotions and Chloe using her badass detective skills to find the answers. They're gonna help so many people.

Lucifer's realization that he ends up caring for people he tries to help and how that's actually a good thing. That it's something to embrace. He's come so far emotionally and I'm so proud of him.

Lucifer's to do list made me laugh so much. Look at this:

Become God

Prove I love Rory

Check in with Father Frank

Azrael's blade still secure?

Start calling Dan "Casper"

Rewatch Bones

Visit Sao Paulo

Try Golden Gate with Chloe First of all the second thing is to prove he loves Rory? AORABLE!! But what caught my eye next is check in with Father Frank. FATHER FRANK!! IS HE IN HELL?!?! DOES LUCIFER CHECK IN WITH HIM A LOT??? Rewatch Bones! Call Dan Casper! I don't even want to know what Golden Gate is XD

Dad!Lucifer. Oh my god I never expected to enjoy Lucifer as a dad as much as I did. Lucifer would have been the best dad and he proved that. The presents he would have given his daughter were perfect, the talks between the two of them, the love he has for Rory was palpable and beautiful. I mean he barely knew her for a few moments and he immediately fell in love with her and would do anything for her. He loved Rory so much and he so desperately wanted to be in her life and it KILLS me that he didn't get to do that. His face when she made him promise to not change things was DEVASTATING! He wanted to be her dad. He wanted to see her grow up. And he didn't get that chance!! I HATE THIS!!! He would have been/was the best dad ever! The montage of them spending the day together was perfection. Sumo wrestling, water balloon fights, shopping, snacks, watching Bones together, his face while listening to her talk about More Bones. It was perfect and exactly how Lucifer would be as a Dad. Fun, attentive, caring. I'm heartbroken.

All of Episode 9. This, to me, felt like the episode for us and the cast and the crew to say goodbye and I'm so grateful for it. Lucifer making the round and saying his goodbyes had me sobbing. I loved them all and I love that Lucifer got say all the things he felt to the people he loved most before he had to leave. Each one was so perfect. Him telling Linda how much he loved her and she is the "most wonderful friends that a devil could ever have". Him telling Ella he was sorry and how he didn't want to leave without her knowing again and the "Ella Lopez STEM Initiative"!!!! I'm gonna cry. Even when he's gone she'll never forget him because of this. Him giving Lux to Amenadiel and telling him that "of all our siblings, I am glad it's you I spent all this time on Earth with. Because you are my favorite brother, brother." I'm dead. Him telling Maze that she is his best friend and he's sorry he didn't always treat her that way. THEIR HUG! His final moment with Dan being the clincher in getting him to Heaven. AND THE FINAL BEACH DAY WITH CHLOE AND RORY WAS SO PERFECT I'M CRYING! The three of them on the drive, Chloe drinking too much champaign, the cuddling on the sand, Lucifer and Rory hugging and their whole talk about how he felt after his father abandoned him. I loved it so much. My only complaint is that I wanted a scene with Trixie too.

Lucifer's love of Bones was really on point this season. I love that detail.

Maze and Eve's wedding. WAS. BEAUTIFUL! I loved their dresses, Linda walking Maze down, Eve owning her own person, their vows, their love, their reception, Maze and Trixie doing their handshake, Dan attending, Lucifer and Chloe being all lovey dovey, Maze's demon family attending as zombies. I loved it all!

Ghost Dan was both crazy funny and so fucking sad. I'm glad he was still here this season and got this arc. Him working through his guilt and moving onto Heaven. I knew all along that Dan's guilt he hadn't worked on was him leaving Trixie and not being a good father to her since he avoided seeing her. I loved that he got a chance to talk to her and that she told him he was being a dummy and she loved him so much.

The music choices. I already lost it at Hazy Shade of Winter but then they went and chose BLACK PARADE for the final scene in Hell and as soon as that first note hit, the fucking G note, I sobbed even harder (as if that was possible).

Bob and Katya cameos!!!

And on that note, I loved all of Lucifer's singing moments. Always do.

Dan playing ping pong with Baliol

But for all the things I loved, there were a few I did not. It's bound to happen and even though they're big they don't change my overall positive feelings about the season.

Here are the things I didn't like:

No Trixie. We barely had any Trixie this season and I hate it. I'm very very happy she was at Maze and Eve's wedding but why was that basically it! Luci didn't even say goodbye to her! They should have had a goodbye scene! Actually, he didn't have any scenes with her in the whole season except forthat tiny scene at the wedding when she asks them when they're getting married and he flounders and she laughs. THAT'S ALL WE GOT!!! I WANTED MORE DAMMIT! SHE WASN'T EVEN THERE WHEN CHLOE DIED!! The scene when she talks to Dan killed me though. I loved that.

This is the biggie. The one that gives me an immense amount of pain and anguish when I think about it because it's so damn sad. Lucifer never gets to see his daughter grow up, never gets to have his family, never sees his family again when they're alive, never gets to spend his life with Chloe on Earth. I understand why he needed to go and stay away from Rory. I do. I get it. But it doesn't make it hurt any less that he spent so so long alone in Hell again. That Chloe had to raise Rory on her own. That Lucifer didn't get to be there for Chloe while she was pregnant, didn't get to see Rory be born, didn't get to be there for her first or watch her grow. And he wanted to be there soooooo badly. It hurts to think about. Does he at least get visits from Amenadiel during this time? Does he get to visit with everyone else, Chloe even, if Rory doesn't know about it? Does he get to know how they're doing? Do they all talk about Lucifer and say they miss him and hope he's okay? Does he get to go up to Heaven occasionally and visit Dan and Charlotte and his siblings? He and Chloe sacrificed so much, Lucifer literally giving up EVERYTHING, so that they're daughter would find her peace. I hate this. It hurts so much.

That's about it I guess. I'm pretty satisfied with everything else.

Oh here are some of my headcanons I use to ease the pain in heart (which turns out both Ildy and Joe all but confirmed after I thought of them but before I could post them. So yay for that!):

Lucifer did stop by and visit Earth during those years as long as he was sure Rory wouldn't find out. A few minutes here and there to see Linda and Charlie, Maze and Eve, and if he could, a few moments with Chloe. Maybe sent notes or stole a few minutes alone with her. All that matter was Rory not knowing it. And if that really couldn't happen then....

Amenadiel visits his brother all the time. He tells him about his family in Earth. How they're doing, what they've been up to, if they're safe happy and healthy. He tells him all about chloe and rory and  brings tons of photos so even though he can't be there in person, he still knows how their lives are.

After Chloe dies and joins him in hell they occassionally take vacations. Now, chloe can't go to earth cause she's dead but they can go to heaven. So they vacation there. Lucifer flies her up and they visit with their family and then have beach days or dance or whatever their heart desires until they go back. Maybe they all have a party together.

Lux is now a part of Hell and is where they live happily together. Since he has control over hell loops he made one into Lux.

After Chloe dies, Rory flies to be with her family in hell as well and she and Lucifer spend eons making up for the time they both missed out on.

Rory and Lucifer go to Earth and check in on Trixie all the time.

Deckerstar spend an eternity happy, helping people work through their guilt and move on to Heaven.

[mth-ppg-trashcan]

Butch and Buttercup 💍

It was a quiet night in Townsville. Only a few lone cars and pedestrians travelled the streets. This was a stark contrast to Buttercup and Butch. Luckily, their position atop one of Townsville’s skyscrapers meant their shouting was too high up to be heard.

Buttercup and Butch stood on the very edge of the roof grappling. They were competing to throw each other off the ledge. The pair was locked in a stalemate until Buttercup freed one of her arms from Butch’s clutch. Then, she wrapped her arms around Butch’s. She back-stepped into him, then threw his whole body over her shoulder. Butch was flung off the edge of the building. He allowed himself to fall for a few feet before activating his powers and flying back up. “Fucker,” he laughed, “I always forget you wrestled for a season.”

“Good,” Buttercup grinned, “it makes you easy to beat.” She sat down and let her legs hang off the edge. She kicked little circles with her feet. Butch floated over and plopped down beside her. Their shoulders bumped and Buttercup let out a small sigh. Tonight was their last night.

High school graduation had occurred last week and now their time was up. The Rowdyruff boys were leaving Townsville in the morning. The date of their return was unknown. It could only be a few months. It would probably be more than a few years.

Buttercup and Butch had spent the day with their siblings. They’d talked, they’d laughed, they’d made the last memories together that they could. After dinner, they’d all wordlessly split off. Bubbles and Boomer went to a movie, probably to commit as much PDA as they wanted. Buttercup and Butch went to wander around Townsville, and left Blossom and Brick to their own devices in the boy’s apartment.

The last remnants of the sunset disappeared, and Buttercup and Butch watched as stars began blinking into existence. They were quiet for a long time. Simply enjoying each other’s presence. It was comforting.

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” Buttercup whispered.

Butch turned his head to look at her. Buttercup’s head was down and she was staring at her hands. Butch stood a full head taller than Buttercup, but she never seemed small to him. Right now, she looked tiny.

He reached over and took one of her hands in his. Butch gently stroked her palm and played with her fingers. Neither one of them looked the other in the eye. They both knew it would break them. “I don’t want to go, but...we have to.” Butch felt anger building in his throat. He was angry at his brothers. He was angry at himself. Why did they have to be so stupid in the past. Now they had to leave to fix their mistakes. Well, there was no fixing them. The best they could do was resolve the problems they caused so their past couldn’t come back to haunt them. It was the only way the boys would ever get to live life in relative peace.

Buttercup squeezed his hand. “I know that,” she said, “we all know that.” She finally looked up and Butch met her eyes. She gave him a small smile. “We’re proud of you guys for going. We want you to do this.”

Butch nodded. He looked back down at her hand and he had the same nagging thought he’d been having for weeks. He didn’t want to ask. It was selfish and stupid. But when had that ever stopped him? “Buttercup, I-“ Butch mentally kicked himself. “Fuck, I don’t know how to say this.”

Buttercup nudged him, so Butch would meet her eyes, “You know you can tell me anything.” Buttercup smiled, “This is a judgement free zone.”

Butch reached into his pocket and pulled the ring out. It was probably better to let it do the talking. The ring wasn’t anything fancy, just a thin steel band. Buttercup looked at him with wide eyes, “I’m a little young to elope in Vegas.”

“What? Shit, no!” Now Butch was really mentally kicking himself. Why did he have to be so bad at this? “That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh,” Buttercup laughed. “But the picture with the Elvis impersonator would’ve been epic.”

Butch grinned, “We’d get there in an hour if we fly. I wouldn’t mind tonight being my wedding night.”

Buttercup punched his arm, “Come on, spill. What’s with the ring?”

There was a pause in conversation as Butch tried to find the right words to say. He turned the ring over in his fingers. “I don’t want you to forget about me,” he finally said. “I know I can’t ask you to wait for me. That’s selfish and you have a life to live. I know things are gonna happen. You could-“ Butch’s breath caught. Hell no, he was not going to cry. “You could meet another guy and fall in love with him, and that’s fine.” Butch placed the ring in Buttercup’s palm. Her fingers curled around it. “But this ring is my promise to you, that no matter what, I promise I’ll come back.”

The metal ring was cool in Buttercup’s palm. She slipped in onto her finger. “Dumbass,” she whispered. Buttercup reached over and kissed him. When she pulled back, tears started rolling down her face. “Of course I’ll wait.”

Butch instantly wrapped his arms around her and felt his own tears beginning to fall. They stayed like that for a long time. Just sitting on the edge of the roof, holding each other. Soaking up every last second they had together.

[saventhhaven]

Plus One - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Tags: wedding, sweet!Dean, engagement

Word Count: 769

A/N: I know it’s really crazy times right now, so I’m trying hard to keep up with my posting to hopefully bring some entertainment, and maybe help keep some minds off of it. I hope you’re all well! <3

(Gif not mine)

Despite the gloomy rain that pittered on the Impala's metal roof, you were in a good mood. Not even a gray sky could dampen your spirits. Dean glanced over at you from the driver's seat.

"What are you smilin' about over there?" You shook your head a bit, shrugging as you did so.

"Nothing, really," you answered. The mental image of your best friend from college walking down the aisle made you smile again. "It was a beautiful ceremony." Dean nodded his agreement as the corners of his mouth quirked up ever so slightly.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, you know what? It was." The two of you had been dating for a long time now, but never before had you gone to a wedding together. Frankly, you never thought you'd ever get the chance. Your lifestyle didn't leave you much time to stay in touch with old friends, which was why you had been so surprised to even receive an invitation in the first place. It was Dean who had convinced you to go, also something you hadn't been expecting. Things in the monster world weren't looking too great right now, and you were afraid of putting your friend in danger. After several days of Dean having to reassure you that it was fine, you had RSVP'd, loving the fact that for the first time in your life, you could say you had a plus one.

"Her dress was gorgeous," you added.

"You know," Dean mused, "I wouldn't mind seeing you in a dress like that someday." Your heart grew tight in your chest as you gazed seriously at him. You almost couldn't believe what you were hearing.  He had said something similar on the dance floor back at the reception, but you had brushed it off as a joke. Hunters couldn't get married, could they? Well, there was Garth. You chewed on your lip for a moment, carefully thinking your next words over.

"What you said back there when we were dancing," you ventured. "Did you really mean that?" Dean's eyes twinkled with pure joy as he gently took one of your hands.

"About us getting married?" You nodded. "Well, yeah, babe. It's like I said: you're the only woman on the face of the earth that makes me feel like this. I think it'd be pretty damn stupid of me if I passed up an opportunity to keep you at my side for the rest of our lives." You thought you might swoon. And since you weren't exactly the swooning type, that was saying a lot. Utterly speechless, you could only grin as you scooted closer to him on the car's leather seat.

"Okay," you finally decided. Dean turned his eyes from the road for a split second, looking down at you in surprise.

"Okay, what?"

"Let's do it," you said. The Impala screeched to a hard stop as the green-eyed man slammed on the brakes, nearly running straight through a stop sign. Obviously caught off guard, he flipped on the hazard lights, moving to the side of the road.

"...get married?" You nodded eagerly. He was right. You would be stupid if you didn't spend the rest of your life with him. "Like... now?" Throwing your head back, you let out a laugh. The last time he had been this baffled was when you had beaten him in a wrestling match.

"Not right this second. What do you think of soon?" Dean blinked at you once. Twice. Then, his face broke out in a grin as he swept you into a deep kiss. "Did we just get engaged?" he whispered against your lips. Chuckling, you cupped his face in your palm.

"Yeah, I think so. Pretty wild, huh?" Dean kissed you softly again.

"It's certainly somethin'." Suddenly, his eyes widened.

"What is it?" you questioned.

"We have to go back into town!" he exclaimed.

"What? Why?" You had heard of pre-wedding jitters, but you hadn't expected them to kick in this soon.

"We have to get booze to celebrate! We should get champagne." He pointed at you. "Do you want champagne?" You giggled at his spastic rambling. Throughout all the time you had spent together, you had only seen him this excited a handful of times.

"Champagne sounds good."

"And a ring!" he declared. "We need to get a ring!" Laying a hand on his arm, you tried to hold back your amusement.

"Dean, I don't need-"

"Shh! We're getting you a ring," he insisted. You snorted as he put the car back into drive, shaking his head. "Holy shit. Sam is not gonna believe this."

Thank you so much for reading!

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[justauthoring]

with you // robb stark

request: YES IVE BEEN IN SUCH A ROBB STARK MOOD! maybe something where you and Robb have a bit of a teasing relationship (constantly harassing each other, being asses, the works) and they have to travel somewhere and their true feelings get revealed?

requested by: @cllaraoswallds

please don’t plagiarize my work!

word count: 1,367

“You’re too confident for your own good.”

In all truth, you had every right to be shocked when Robb said nothing in return to your teasing. He only grins, his head turning over his shoulder to meet your eyes as he raises a cocky brow in response to your words.

Was he pleased by your insult?

“You’re not gonna say anything in return?” You ask incredulously, unable to believe the words yourself even though you are the one to speak them.

Robb only shrugs his shoulders; “no one ever said confidence was a bad thing.”

Scoffing, you roll your eyes, moving to step past Robb. “I assure you, Robb, confidence when misplaced can be a bad thing without a doubt.” Robb’s eyes only follow your movements as you stride by him with squared shoulders and a raised chin. “And part of me thinks this is a perfect example.”

It is not odd for the two of you to act this way with one another.

You’ve known Robb for most of your life, and most of your time spent with one another was based off of meaningless insults, teasing and competitiveness. It was just how the two of you got along with one another, and it had never changed -- even as you both grew into adults and those around you expected more from you then childish competition.

Robb catches your arm before you are able to walk away from him, pulling you back towards him with one quick pull. Your lips part slightly in surprise, eyes flickering upward to meet Robb’s own through your lashes. You can’t help the slight warming of your cheeks when you realize how close the two of you have become, and the way your heart begins to race with nerves.

“Admit it,” Robb whispers close to your ear, his warm breath fawning across your exposed skin. “You love my confidence.”

But lately, as the two of you grew older and blossomed into young adults, you’d started to notice that your teasing’s became more than just that. There was lingering gazes and touches, hidden meanings behind words and close contact that the two of you would’ve shied upon before.

And no longer could you hide your growing affections for the boy. The slightest look your way seemed to be enough to cause you to blush and feel your stomach flutter with butterflies. Now was no different.

Composing yourself, you scoff, stepping away from Robb with a shake of your head. “You wish.”

Robb grins, unable to hide the amusement he finds when he converses with you. It is not only that though, and lately, just the sight of you is enough to lighten his mood and cause him to want to spend all of his free time with you. Your energy and personality is radiating and captivating, and sometimes Robb can barely keep himself away from you.

“Y/N--”

“Robb!”

Said mans words halt at the sound of his mother’s voice. It catches your attention as well, and the two of you turn towards Catelyn as she rushes over to the two of you, a bright smile adorning her fair features. 

As she comes to a stop before the two of you, you bow your head respectively; “Lady Stark.”

“Please, Y/N,” Catelyn breathes, slightly out of breath. “We have known each other long enough to be past the formality.”

You smile brightly at Catelyn’s words, nodding your head in agreement.

“Is there something you needed, mother?” Robb questions, setting a hand on his mother’s shoulder in greeting.

“Actually, i’m glad I caught the both of you,” Catelyn smiles, her eyes flickering from yours to her sons. “Your father and I have been discussing this for a long time now, Robb, and we’ve finally decided it is time.”

Your brows furrow; “time for what?”

“That the two of you find out about your marriage.”

Your eyes widen, lips parting. Instantly, your eyes fall on Robb’s and he has the exact same expression on his face as you -- bewilderment. 

“Marriage?” Robb questions, his voice soft. 

“Yes,” Catelyn nods, seemingly oblivious to the both of you’s reaction. “It was something that had been arranged for the two of you when you were younger. Your father and I, as well as your parents Y/N, agreed that keeping it a secret would be in both of yours best interest in hopes that you grew closer not because of marriage but because you wanted to.”

You find yourself speechless--

“The wedding will not be for a few days.”

--What can you say?

“But we thought it best that the two of you be allowed to have time to yourselves to become accustomed to the idea. So, you two are to travel to a place of your choice and learn to see each other in this new light.”

-

The trip had been eerily silent.

No teasing. No competition. Nothing. It seemed you and Robb were, still, stunned with absolute silence. 

You didn’t know what to say. It felt awkward now to talk to Robb when before it had always seemed natural. When you looked at him, you no longer saw the boy you’d wrestle around with as children but someone who was to be your husband. And while the idea itself was not unpleasant, because you could not deny your feelings for him, it made things awkward and tense between the two of you.

By Robb’s silence, you figured he felt the same.

But as you sat there before the fire, the cool air causing you to curl into the furs of your cloak, you could no longer remain silent. You had to say something, anything, to lessen the tension that filled the air between the two of you continuously. 

“So,” you finally spoke, “marriage.”

“Marriage,” Robb repeats with a slow nod of his head.

“I guess it was to be expected,” you comment after a moment, letting your eyes flicker in the direction of Robb who sat next to you. “In the best interests of our families that is.”

Robb nods.

“And at least we are not being wedded to strangers.”

Robb nods once again.

You sigh, shoulders falling. “Is it that terrible?”

Robb blinks, finally meeting your eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Marrying me,” you clarify, unable to stop the hurt that floods you. You knew thins were awkward and you knew that it was difficult to become accustomed to the idea that the two of you were suddenly being married to one another with barely any warning but... “Does it upset you so greatly?”

“Y/N--”

“Because if it does... well, then, that saddens me if i’m being truthful.”

“It doesn’t.”

Swallowing thickly, you bite your lip; “then why the silence?”

Robb pauses, his eyes returning to the fire that flickers before him. “I’m not sure what to say.”

“I got that.”

“I mean,” Robb clarifies, his voice pitching slightly. “All my life, you’ve been my best friend. We tease each other, yes. We can sometimes be cruel to one another, yes. But it is never malicious. I’ve spent my entire life convincing myself that we never be more than that; friends. And now suddenly you are to be my wife.”

Your lips part at his words. At his confession.

“You wanted us to be more?” You question, your voice flooding with hope.

Robb meets your eyes, sincerity the only thing you see staring back at you. “Always.”

“Then, maybe, just maybe,” you shuffle closer to Robb. “This marriage is a blessing because... i’ve always wanted up to be more as well.”

Robb’s eyes widen and he takes your hand into his own; “you have?”

“Since I was a young girl,” you smile.

“The idea of you being my wife is pleasant.”

Your eyes twinkle; “and the idea of you being my husband is not all that terrible.”

Robb rolls his eyes as you let your lips curve into a smirk. “Always so mean,” Robb whispers, not at all meaning the words he speaks.

“I can see me spending my life with you, Robb. I’ve always seen you by my side.”

Robb raises your hand, pressing a kiss against it. 

“I would have it no other way.”

-

let me know what you thought? remember, reblogging always helps!

requests are open for lorenzo de medici and jaime lannister!

[mochixjimin]

The Truth Untold

Jeon Jungkook | BTS | angst

Word Count: 6.8K

Warnings: Mentions of assault, attempted suicide, self harm, minor violence, and language

A/N: ~~Indicates past events~~ italics are Jungkook’s thoughts 

“I can’t show you my weakness, so I’m putting on a mask to go see you.“

Busan, 12 am.

The open summer spring skies had hues of blues and blacks with bright white specs painting the fading night going into the next day. High school students bumbling about, laughing, and virtually screaming after exams were over, all he could do was chuckle, “Glad those days are over.” Jungkook smiled and took a small swig of the beer bottle perched at the table of the street ramen booth you two often visited on your days off from classes.

He went to touch his neck, feeling around for the chain with the silver metal circle on it that he wore around his neck months after he met you. Jungkook smiled when he thought about the day you gave it to him.

~~~~~~~~~ 

It was the week before Christmas break and he’d finally gotten up the courage to ask you out, “Okay Jeon, don’t punk out now. ___ is almost here for the hot cocoa date, everything is perfect.” He thought to himself as he spent the evening getting all of your favorite things, snacks, a little bear that said “I love you” in his cute voice for her.

“Wow, Jungkook this is perfect! We were just watching movies, you didn’t have to do all this, I’m not worth it really.” She voiced, incredulously looking at all the work he put in for her, “You are so sweet, where are the people like you? I haven’t had a friend do anything like this for me before.”

He smiled and inwardly his heart beat at a fast pace, while his final present held behind his hands for ___, it was a bracelet with their names etched in with the words, “I love you noodlehead.” Yes, it was stupid, but the first time he met ___, they bonded over an accidentally spilled bowl of her spicy noodles all over his uniform in high school. She felt so bad that she poured the rest of the ramen on her head, “See, now we match!” and they were friends ever since.

“Um, ____? I need to tell you something, as you know we’ve been friends for a long time and we’ve been through a lot, but I wanted to let you know that I’m in l-” He almost finished as the door made a couple quick knocks, “Oh sorry Jungkook! I forgot to tell you that Jimin is coming over, get another mug please.”

“Jimini-hyung? I thought you hated him?” He spoke, shoving the box with the jewelry in his back pocket.

She answered him as she turned to open the door, “Well yeah, I did, but he’s not that bad. Yoongi-oppa invited us to listen to his mixtape before he released it, and I had fun, he’s not an immature man baby like I thought.”

Jungkook’s face reddened in slight anger; it wasn’t that he didn’t like Jimin, but the older male was too flirty for his liking and it always toward ____, when she told him that she wished Jimin wasn’t so childish made him perk up in a hopeful stance.

“Sup Jungkookie, I hope it’s okay that ___ invited me; What are we watching tonight?” Jimin asked as he flashed a quick smile to Jungkook and took off his jacket to put an arm around ____, making Jungkook turn green with envy.

“Yeah, whatever, just shut up when the movie plays.” He muttered and sat down as he started to press ‘play’ on the remote.

As the movie played, he couldn’t even believe this, ___ was laughing and leaning on Jimn, occasionally she would poke at Jungkook’s face telling him to stop crossing his arms, “Kookie, you’re gonna get frown lines! Is the movie bad? I tried to find a cheesy Christmas movie, but if it really sucks then we can watch something else?”

“No, no. It’s fine,” Jungkook lied as he forced out a faked smile to ___ but eyes shooting daggers at Jimin, “the movie is perfect. Just like you.”

She chuckled and spoke up, “Aw, Kookie. You’re so sweet! Also, I saw this man at the market today, and he had rings on sale! There was a couple's discount, so I got you one too! Now we can be friends forever, and he gave me a free engraving since it’s the holiday season!”

He beamed at the rings, and he softened as he saw the etched phrase, “Ramen Forever, love you!” 

Jungkook went to reach in his back pocket, “I got you this too, Merry Christmas noodlehead.”

“Jungkookie! You said you would never talk about that again! My hair smelled like chili paste for a week” ____ said as she turned to Jimin to help her put the bracelet on her wrist.

“Hey, hey, can you two shut up now, we get you’re best friends. Can we go back to the movie now?” Jimin interrupted as he latched the clasp together on her wrist, Jungkook narrowed his eyes at Jimin for breaking him and ___ out their separate conversation, but answered, “Yeah sure, let’s continue.”

~~~~~~~~~

He was happily lost in a trance when he heard, “Oh, Kook-ah, you thinking about ___, again? Are planning the future wedding, I can be your best man! But, uh, I'm already going to let you know that you'll only get a bottle of Soju from me; we are broke college students after all.” 

Taehyung teased as he gave him a tight back hug, tousled the younger male's dark locks, and sat down to ask the man at the grill for a bottle. “Well, how have you been? I mean it’s almost like I lost my roommate.” Taehyung mused after not seeing him since you two spent pretty much the entire spring break together and going over her and Minji's apartment every evening, "I hope they don’t make you start paying for rent and groceries. Minji doesn’t play about her kitchen or the fridge."

Jungkook outwardly laughed at his friend, “Tae” he chuckled, “Minji-noona spends like seven hundred percent of her time with Hoseok-hyung now, they're practically inseparable. But you seriously believe that in a couple of years, all you could give me for my wedding present is a tiny bottle of alcohol?" He responded, completely sidestepping the denial of liking ___, "But no, we just played games and drank beer, can’t good friends do that?”

“Bullshit! You’ve been over there just drinking and lazing around? Did you sleep on the couch? She makes me sleep on the couch!”

His eyebrow quirked, then he turned to the older male, “Well, I was going to at first… But, you know how __ is! She hates people sleeping on the couch.” Jungkook quickly finished, acting as if that excuse made any sense to which Taehyung countered, “Jungkook, what? ___ practically made me and Jimin scrunch up on that very couch two months ago! I know her bed can fit at least 4 people, and she made us sleep in the living room! My back is still killing me from that night, maybe I should have slept in Minji's bed, Hoseok-hyung probably wouldn’t have minded…”

Jungkook laughed at Taehyung, smiled inward, and prided himself on the fact that she wouldn’t let anyone else but him and her girlfriends coming over to sleep in her bed. “I mean what can I say hyung, maybe ___ doesn’t want you two stinking up her bed, also you like to cuddle people, and Jimin practically rolls all over the place. You’re lucky she didn’t make you two sleep on the floor.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes and continued to tease Jungkook, “Oh, whatever Kook-ah, you're in love with her, and we all know it.” Taehyung continued, surprised that he brought up the other man’s name, “And wow, you said his name. Have you two talked since–” he went to finish until Jungkook cut him off hastily, “Not yet,” he grumbled, “I will, but he needs to apologize for what he said; it was uncalled for and rude.”

Taehyung let out a haughty chuckle, tipping the green bottle of liquor sat on the wooden table into one of the glasses perched between them, “What did he do anyway? All he said was that you ripped his head off because you saw them wrestling or something the other day. I’ve never seen him so rattled, you two really need to kiss and make up.”

Jungkook’s jaw visibly tightened, it wasn’t the fact that they were messing around, it was the fact that ___ could have gotten hurt.

~~~~~~~~~ 

Jungkook texted ___ to leave her key under the mat, saying that he needed to come over and share a drink at the ramen shop on the corner. When Jungkook stuck the key into the lock, he heard faint noises, kind of like ___ and maybe someone else? He just assumed it would be her and Minji arguing over whether to watch a cooking show or a baking show, Jungkook really didn’t get the big difference, but whatever ___ liked, he would agree to watch, no matter how boring.

Once Jungkook remembered what a rough day he had in his engineering class, he couldn’t wait to see ___ and a nice bowl of pork ramen. He screwed up a design that could have been fatal if it were test run, but the thought vacated his mind when he saw and heard her make an ungodly sound as Jimin sat up on your hips. “Jiminie!! Aish, get off me, you fat ass, we can watch your crime drama! We could have flipped a coin, you jerk!”

“Jimin. What in the fuck are you doing to my ___?” He spat, slightly startling them as they looked up to Jungkook with one hand still on the knob of the door and the other clutching his backpack strap in a death grip.

He didn’t even bother to not sound possessive, adding ‘my’ to whenever he talked about her, but he knew she didn’t mind because usually it was always matched with love in his voice, but this instance was nothing of the sort; it was seething pure of jealousy and annoyance.

Jimin laughed, still holding your flailing arms lightly in his hands,  “Aish, Kookie calm down, she isn't your pet. ___ tried to get the remote from me and guess who lost?”

You ignored Jungkook's words, let out an exasperated groan, and grumbled, “Yeah, yeah, I almost had you! Jimin-oppa just had to put that luscious booty on me, and I was out for the count.”

Jimin aired an over exaggerated gasp when he crouched to pull you up, “___-ah, have you been staring at my ass!? You stinker!”

When you were both upright, his eyes went into crescents, lithe hands going from your wrists up to your face to pinch your cheeks, lightly spoke and feigned shock, “Ahh, ___-ssi! How dare you, take me to dinner first!”

She laughed and weakly tried to dodge his hands from going toward her glistened face, “Stoooop! Jiminie, shush!! We are younger than you, but you can at least call me sunbae, okay?” You voiced as you went to the kitchen to get some water and fan yourself off, but Jungkook had already lost it. “Jimin-oppa? When did she start to call you that?"

Jimin brushed it off and attempted to ask him how his day went when the younger boy continued, "___-ssi? You’re older than us, hyung. You need to start acting like an actual adult.” He couldn’t help but grit this sentence, grimacing.

"Well, uh, ___-ah and I are just playing Kookie. You know I don’t care about formal titles, we're all friends here. Besides, it's only two years, and I'm not an ahjussi just yet." Jimin comically added and shrugged, but Jungkook disregarded him, and continued to scold you two; well, mostly Jimin. “You two shouldn’t be messing around like that. Don’t you ever put your hands on my ___, if she wants something, just give it to her.”

Sensing the unnecessary palpability, Jimin continued to push him, and a smug grin painted his face, “So if she wanted my dick, should I just give it to her?”

Before he could think, Jungkook’s hands were tangled in Jimin’s shirt, pressing the shorter man up against the nearby wall, “If you ever talk about her like that again, I will fucking end you, got me Jimin-ssi?”

The older man's eyes bulged, and he began to speak up when ___ interrupted, still in the kitchen, “Hey! What are you two doing in there!? Jiminie did you drop something, you klutz!”

Jungkook, hands still twisted in the light material, bared his eyes toward Jimin, collected his composure and calmly responded, “Aha, ___, you know Jimin! He has a hard time keeping his hands in his pockets. He’s always touching things that aren’t his business to even look at.” Lowering the last sentence in a hushed voice only they could hear.

Jimin visibly gulped and tried to answer as well without alerting her that something was wrong, “U-um, yeah ___-ah, don’t worry about me! I was just about to go, Minji texted me about our Physics project, I’ll see you around.” With that, Jungkook let go of his shirt, smoothed it out, virtually shoved him out the door, and nearly slammed it in anger.

“Awh, damn. Jimin didn’t tell me bye,” she pouted walking back into the room and putting her hands over her chest, “What were you two even talking about? Why did he have to go, Minji-unnie told me before she went to bed last night that they finished that project a few days ago…”

He shrugged and went to pat your shoulders, “Oh, well maybe they changed something in the end. I thought noona said it wasn’t due until the end of the month anyway. Are you okay?”

She uncrossed her arms, listened to him, and laughed, “Kookie, I’m fine, seriously. You gotta stop calling me yours and why you get so worked up about me; I could have beaten his ass any day, you know that!”

Jungkook ignored her words, but the phrase “beaten his ass” stuck out presently in his mind out of the entire statement, “Also, ___-ah… has Jimin-hyung been a little more, um- handsy with you? I don’t like it, he’s such a pervert.”

___ chortled, nearly tumbling over in gasps, “Jeon Jungkook, ew, how could think like that! Jiminie is a dummy, we were just playing around. You know how he is, I like when he's silly with me.”

She looked up towards his stern face cupped it, and smiled brightly, “It was nothing for you to worry about, okay? Today was just I don’t know, meh. I wanted to watch Cake Wars, but he didn’t, so we argued, and somehow I ended up on the floor. What a bummer, I almost had him for a moment there too.”

He always loved how she never got too upset about such trivial things and reassured him, especially when her smaller hands moved to his face, making his striking features soften and lean into her touch. His hands dropped to her waist to pull her closer into a hug, and he softly smiled, “Okay. Well, ____-ah, I’m here now and let’s see if those bakers from New York figured out how to put the clock on the cake design without overshadowing Alice and her dress.”

She beamed and jumped on him to carry her to the couch, “Ah, Kook-ah!! I haven’t seen that part yet! Hush!”

~~~~~~~~~

Taehyung snapped in front of his face, “Ya! Jungkook-ah, why do you keep zoning out, what happened with you and Jimin?”

“Hyung, don’t worry about it. When Jimin decides to grow up and apologize, then it’s square.” He said, cutting any room for questions when he abruptly changed topics, “Anyways, we should swing by ____ and Minji's. It's movie night, Minji picked though, so get ready to watch another sappy rom-com. Have either of them texted you?”

Taehyung sensed the air of annoyance lingering over Jungkook's past conversation with Jimin, so he brushed it off and responded to the latter, “You know what? I totally forgot about the movie tonight, but to answer your question, no. The last thing ___ texted me was that she would give my hoodie back whenever we stopped by, but I could have sworn I told her that she could have it for her birthday last year… She’s been acting so strange lately? The other day when we were over there, she went on a thirty-minute tirade because Jin-hyung and Namjoon-hyung were too old to be play fighting, I hope she’s not too stressed.”

Taehyung’s genuine concern about her made Jungkook worry even more. ___ was very strange for the last few weeks: forgetting assignments, sleeping in a painfully obvious amount, and changing her outfits drastically in this heat. The weather began to increase in a hot, humid fashion this spring, but she opted for long sleeves, hoodies, and continuously wore sweatpants to cover her body from the neck down, it was odd, but she did always complain about being cold, so you didn’t pay it any mind. Plus with finals and everything approaching, Jungkook just assumed that she was trying to be steadfast in her studies.

___ had also started texting vaguely and declining any invites out, something not quite like her. “Hey, hyung. Let’s go see her then, maybe she’s down about something? I hope she isn’t pouting around by herself.”

Taehyung nodded in agreement, but just before they were about to head out, his phone rang. The screen flashed Hoseok's name and a picture of him wearing the flower outfit took over the screen, he smiled and went to answer. "Oh, hey hyung, me and Jungkook were just a--" Jungkook turned his head in confusion at the abrupt end to his sentence to look at Taehyung; the older male's face drained to a pale white and his mouth agape, "Hyung… What's wrong? Did Yeontan get out again?" Jungkook questioned, about to make a joke about his dog escaping, but all Taehyung could mutter was, "We need to go to the hospital."

Taehyung ended the call with Hoseok saying, "We'll be there in ten mintues hyung; we're at the ramen stall four blocks up the street." He laced his hand around Jungkook's wrist, nearly yanking his whole arm out of the socket to flag down a taxi, but Jungkook wouldn’t budge, "Taehyung-ah! What is happening?! Tell me."

"Jeon Jungkook, just get in the fucking car. It's about ___, I'll tell you on the way, hurry up." Taehyung aired, void of all formalities at the moment since the younger male decided to drop them in slowly built anger, and pulled Jungkook into the taxi.

Busan, 1:15 am.

The hospital emergency room toiled with varying situations, from a minor bruises to gunshot victims, but all he could worry about was you. "She's on the third floor, this way," Taehyung mentioned, dragging Jungkook's dazed self away from the directory sign to go where she was.

Once they got to the waiting area, he saw Jin and Hoseok comforting Minji, Jungkook noticed that she was only wearing a baggy tee and what he assumed were leggings and slipper like shoes; her hair was pulled into a messy bun, eye makeup was smudged, and she kept incoherently muttering, "W-water, so m-m-much water."

At that, she burst back into tears and Hoseok pulled her into his lap, sighed, and rubbed her back lovingly. When Hoseok looked up, he saw the two of you; he went to speak, but Jin sent him a soft look that he would handle it, so that Hoseok could continue to comfort Minji.

"Hyung, what happened, how could she… I don’t understand, is ___ okay?" Taehyung asked for him, for Jungkook's mouth was drier than sand in the Sahara desert.

Both of them could tell that he had been crying as well; his face was puffy and reddened, his lips were swollen like he gnawed at them, and his eyes looked blown out and strained. "We just didn't know she was struggling, I mean she mentioned to me and Joon that she feeling anxious and a bit paranoid, but I thought that it was because her formal presentation to the research committee was coming up. They had to pump her stomach, but the doctor said that ____ will be fine. She's sleeping right now. Yoongi and Namjoon went out to get Minji something to eat, but Jungk-"

"How could she do this. We spent almost every day together, why the fuck didn’t she tell me." Jungkook interjected, finally finding the words to speak, "She acted like she was okay, how-- why would she do something so fucking stupid."

Taehyung, trying to calm him, but scolding him for his insensitive comments, "Hey now, watch it Jungkook. ___ can't be bright and cheery one hundred percent of the time; we don’t know how she was feeling. All that matters is that she's safe now."

Jungkook, feeling like a complete jerk, apologized and walked past them to speak with Minji and Hoseok, "Hey… How are you doing noona?"

She looked up and scowled at him, "Me, how am I doing? Oh, I'm fucking amazing. My roommate and best friend in the whole, wide world attempted to kill herself, but how was your day?"

Hoseok aired a dejected sigh, "Baby…"

"What, I went to study for that stupid ass Physics exam with Jimin, and she kept texting me all this weird stuff. Why didn't I realize what she was doing, I literally just read about this shit in one of her Psych books." She let out a haughty, unsteady breath, then continued, "___ said she wanted me to take her laptop, I thought it was broken again. I never understood why she wouldn’t just buy a newer one, she is the cheapest bitch I've ever met. I bet she has enough money to buy the entire Mac store for Christ's sake."

Minji paused to laugh, "___ is so damn cheap." Tears began to spring back into her eyes when she thought about easy it was to read ___, or that she thought she could, "I told her that I'd fix it when me and Jimin touched up the final parts of our project, so she just sent me a weird message to forget about it, but I knew that she would just pout if I didn’t hurry up and fix it."

She stopped to regain a semblance of steadiness in her voice, but it failed her. Breathing deep and closing her eyes, "We argued a few days ago about that, but I was over it; it was so dumb of me to get mad at her, we both know if her computer caught fire, I would still fix it. When we got to the door, I went to unlock it, but it was already open; ___ would never do that. She always bitched if the deadbolt wasn’t turned, so I knew that something was off. I tried to call her like six times on the way over, but Jimin said that maybe she went out with you and left her cellphone by accident, but there's no way; ___ is very picky, she would have let me know if she'd be gone or at the very least, she would have told Jungkook-ah to text me."

Jungkook and Taehyung now sat on the other side of Minji and Hoseok; Jin received a call from Namjoon and took off to look for him and Yoongi, wondering what was taking them so long. Taehyung started to cry when he listened to Minji recount the evening, Hoseok still had his arm wrapped around her, the other laid across her thigh stroking it and indicating that it would be alright to inform them. Jungkook wouldn’t release any other emotion other than a hard, steely look on his face, harshly clearing his throat to stifle the tears in his eyes.

"Baby, you don’t have to tell us right now. You need to rest, I'll tell Namjoon to take you to his for the night" Hoseok said, trying to soothe his girlfriend, but Minji was always so headstrong, "No. I'm not leaving until she wakes back up. I'll be okay, just text Jin-oppa to bring me a fleece blanket from wherever they went, I'm not hungry."

Hoseok sighed again, heeded her words, and took his phone out to text Jin. Minji, now a little more calm, leaned back into Hoseok's chest and let out a huff to brace herself, "I went in to check her room to see if she had maybe fallen asleep, b-but it was like I stepped in a puddle, and my socks felt wet. There was… there was just so much water on the floor. I walked to her bathroom and she was passed out in the tub with all these pills, they--they were everywhere."

She leaned forward, placed her elbows on the tops of her knees, and palmed her face before continuing, "I should have known, why didn't I tell Jimin to piss off and study another day; I was so swamped with everything, I forgot about her. If I hadn't left for the library, she wouldn’t be in the hospital. We would be eating nothing but junk food and getting ready for movie night… I actually thought about picking an action movie this time. Our last words would have been me screaming at her over being so tight about money. What if I hadn’t felt that something was off, she would be dead, I-- she could have actually--"

Hoseok stood up, carefully standing in front of her in a protective stance hiding her from the other two men to wipe the fresh tears from her eyes, "Okay, baby, that’s enough. Jin-hyung found Joonie and Yoongi-hyung, they'll be here any moment. I want you to go home with Namjoon like I said. I promise that I will call you as soon as she wakes up. " He told rather than suggested to Minji as he laced his larger hand in her shaky one and walked her to Namjoon and Yoongi.

"God. We all should have known, I hope Minji can sleep tonight…" Taehyung finally aired, breaking the silence after they watched the older man take his girlfriend to the others so she could get some rest.

Jin came back to sit where Hoseok sat a few moments earlier to speak up, "Oh man, Minji is so shaken up, we should go see how ___ an-"

"She's awake?! We can go in see her now?" Jungkook interrupted him for the second time, "C'mon Taehyung, let's go!"

Jin rolled his eyes at Jungkook's impatience and grabbed his arm before he broke the door down, "Jungkook, slow down. I need to let you know that-"

"Damnit hyung, get off. I want to see her, now back up." Jungkook bit, snatched his arm away, and blindly went to open the door when he saw him.

To anyone else, it looked like a boyfriend that was deeply in love and would stay there as long it took for their love to wake up, but to Jungkook it disgusted and angered him, "Jimin, what in the fuck are you in her bed for?" He nearly snarled at the older male lying next to ____, huddled near her sleeping form, and hand laced with hers.

Taehyung clearly sensing the terse air, attempting to deter from the younger's offensive stance, "Jiminie, how long have you been here? Why didn’t you come out, didn’t you hear us out there?"

"I couldn’t leave her Taehyung, I texted Jin-hyung that she was awake for a bit, but she's still pretty drained." Jimin responded, completely ignoring Jungkook's childish behavior, but clearly, he wouldn’t have it, "Hyung, if you don't get away from her, you perverted fuck. How dare you try to get your dick hard from her passed out, she could have died."

Jimin blinked in awe and got up from the bed where ___ lie, still asleep, but he got up to defend himself, "What in the fuck is wrong with you? ___ almost died, and you're pissed off because I'm cuddling her in the bed?"

Jungkook wanted to scream. His arms tensed in anger as if he were going to punch Jimin square in the jaw but he retorted, "You know damn well that I am right. ___ isn't yours, why in the fuck are anywhere near her when I told you I'd lay your ass out if even did so much to look in her direction."

"What?"

A familiar voice meekly rang out, and all three of them turned to see her awake, but still dazed when Jimin flew across the room to her side, “Oh fuck! ___!? Sweetheart are you okay, here drink some water.”

She took a few sips from the cup in Jimin’s hand and joked, “Haha, well oppa, it feels like I haven’t eaten for a week, but I’m okay. I got your clothes wet… I’m so sorry baby.”

Jimin beamed at her softly and joked, “Well, I’ll send you the invoice for my new boots.” He smiled as tears came back to dust his eyes when he put one hand to her face as if they were lost in their own world, “No sweetheart, no apologies. Remember? You just had a bad day and we can work through it, but don’t apologize for how you’re feeling. They’re valid and you shouldn’t be sorry for how you feel.”

Jungkook butted in once more pulling them back into the question he asked, “What the fuck is going on!? I swear to God, back away from my ___.”

“Wow. Um, Kook-ah why don’t you ju–” Taehyung tried to diffuse the situation but Jungkook’s rage broke them out of the bubble they were in and she groggily aired, “Tae-Tae, Jiminie, can you two leave us alone for a bit?”

“Are you sure? I can handle Ju–"

“I got it Jiminie, thanks. I know it must have been uncomfortable lying next to me like a sardine; just go out in the waiting room with Tae, I bet you two are starving.” She lightly aired, always caring about the next person rather than herself.

Taehyung and Jimin obliged then left the room, leaving ___ and Jungkook to finally cut the tense feelings between him and Jimin, but Jungkook spoke first, “Why would you lie to me? You said you didn’t even like Jimin! You assured me of that when he left that day.”

She took a sip of water from the cup on the rolling table next to the bed and lowly chuckled, “Are you serious? If that’s what you’re worried about, then you need to back the hell up and get a grip.” ___ said, trying to resituate in a way that was comfortable for her back and also to look at Jungkook better as he stood indignant and still angry. “Things can change, yeah Jimin was immature to me, but the more time we spent together, the more I fell for him, I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“You didn’t mean to fall for him? What about us?” Jungkook annoyingly aired, then continued his tantrum, “I love you. I thought you loved me, you fucking lied to me.”

“What about us? Of course, I love you Jungkook, but you’re my best friend.” She retorted and he crumpled inside, figure staggering, “B-but… the rings? You let me sleep in your bed, you always flirt, my name for you… I though–”

“Excuse me? Just because I do nice things for you, does not mean I’m in love with you. It’s fucking misogynistic of you to assume we have some love like the romance movies because of stupid shit like that, and I fucking hate when you say "My ___”. I am not your property, I tell you all the time to stop saying it, Jimin gets so upset when you lay claim to me like I’m a fucking dog. You shouldn’t perpetuate those stereotypes and I cannot even believe you thought for a second that I enjoyed that bullshit. The rings were for friends, I know I worded it wrong, but they were friendship rings Kookie. Also, I only let you sleep in my bed because you kept complaining and I didn’t want you to be in a mood because Taehyung likes to cuddle people in his sleep and tried to smother you the last time you guys were at my place.“

Even as ___ went off on him, he couldn’t listen. She was alright, but why Jimin? What did he have that Jungkook didn’t, "How many people knew?”

“What?”

“How many people knew, ___? Or did you two have fun keeping this thing a secret.” He gritted, looking to her for an answer when she angrily said, “God, Jungkook stop this! Our relationship has nothing to do with you. I begged you to stop being so fucking selfish and listen to me, but you only care about yourself. I tried several times to invite Jimin with us or to a movie night, but you go out of your way to make him feel left out.”

He let out a haughty laugh, unfazed by your addition of Jimin to cruelly spit, “I’m the selfish one? Sure. You chose to kill yourself and I’m the selfish person? You never even told me about your depression, what the fuck?”

She looked toward him in shock, “Get the fuck out.”

He quickly attempted to backtrack & apologize before she cut him off to lay into him more, “Are you out of your fucking mind. How dare you, I’ve been managing my depression for years; you didn’t know because you didn’t want to; it would kill the halo you keep over my head.”

He stared at her, opening and closing his mouth failing to find something to make it better, ”____… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Can we forget it and start over?“

____ looked at him for a long time, trying to find the correct words that would make him understand, “Jungkook that’s the problem. You always spout off anything you fucking want to and I’m left to clean up your mess. You think that you can do no wrong and I should fall to your feet and beg for your attention. Just listen for once in your goddamned life.” ___ calmed down and felt tears mist your eyes, “Do you remember the EXO frat party we went to as freshmen?”

His eyes softened and searched the room as if he could remember; that night was a blur, but he remembered you two got separated somehow and received a message saying that she was fine and would meet up with him sometime later, “Uh, yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?”

She let out a shaky breath, tears falling down her face in slow traces, “That night when we were separated, one of the frat guys hassled me, I tried to get him to back off, but he wouldn’t leave me alone unless he could get me a drink. We talked for a few minutes, but when I tried to go, he groped me and noticed I started to get dizzy,” she laughed, trying to veil the sentiment in a lighter tone, “I mean you hear about these things, I never thought it would be me…”

As she trailed off to clear her throat, Jungkook interjected, “____… W-were you assaulted at the party that night?” His hands were tensed back up, arm veins so prominent, they looked as if they would burst. His steely grimace twisted in anger then disgust and his eyes were clouded with tears just as yours were, “Who the fuck hurt you, and I’ll kill them.”

“No, Jungkook, please don’t. He got me up to his room and then it was kind of a blur, but luckily Hoseok and Jin were there as well to get the bastard off me and get me to the hospital. I was terrified; what would people think, what would you think? A stupid freshman girl out drinking alone? How could I be so careless?” She aired, voice still broken, "After that night, I "took that vacation abroad” but I was in and out of the court trying to get that stain’s sorry ass sent to prison. I spent every night waking up in cold sweats, crying and screaming for help. Minji was worried I would try to cut again, so she told Jimin to “hang out” with me, but I hated him for it because I knew what they were doing.“

___ laughed, this time in the way she did whenever Yoongi would send her a picture of a puppy in a wig, but Jungkook couldn’t believe any of this and stood still as you continued, "Anyways, Jimin came over and I absolutely wanted to strangle him, but after a couple hours, he had me outside, enjoying things the way I used to. I also stopped having those nightmares and even when I had a bad day, he could just tell. I wouldn’t have to mention anything, he would just come over and lay with me, whether I needed to cry or yell at him, he would let me. Then one day we kissed and it felt right, like a puzzle piece you’ve been looking for and it can finally complete the picture.”

But I could do all those things, all you had to do was ask, I would have been there for you in a heartbeat. “So, Jimin and you have been together for three years. And that day I walked in on you two…”

“Yes, he was trying to cheer me up because I had a panic attack. Thankfully, I got my attacker expelled, but his frat buddies weren’t so pleased that I got their frat expelled from campus and left a few of them to look for lawyers as well… they were leaving horrible notes for me and making anonymous threats, I tried to go to the campus police, but they can’t protect me for the rest of my time here, and it just got to be too much.” You finished, staring off into the space where the pullout recliner chair for visitors sat, “That’s why I never go to those type of parties anymore, or how I flinch when you come up and startle me; I’m just fearful, but with Jimin and some counseling has helped it be manageable.”

He just couldn’t understand, curtly asking, “Then why did you try to hurt yourself? How come you wouldn’t tell me? Does anyone else know?”

She sighed, “I don’t know, my research presentation was coming up, I got in a fight with Minji, and everything just didn’t matter anymore; I just thought it would be better if I died. Only Jimin, Hoseok, Jin, Minji and maybe Yoongi know, but I couldn’t tell you, just look at you now; I can’t have someone I care about throwing their life away for a creep.”

“But he deserves it! No one should lay a hand on my- you.” He started up and quieted down as he almost claimed her as his again out of habit, “Why did you leave the rest of us in the dark?”

“Taehyung couldn’t handle this, with the death of both his aunt and cousin that year, I just couldn’t put that on him; it wouldn’t be fair. And well, I’m sure Yoongi knows, but he just doesn’t say it, he’ll just bring me treats and check in on me with a color every so often. I’m glad too, he lets me still be me and I don’t feel coddled like I was when it first happened; Yoongi must be so hurt, I have to apologize. I always tell him everything.”

Once more, Jungkook felt dejected, she told everyone but him, and it hurt, especially when she mentioned apologizing for all this, it wasn’t her fault and he wanted to hold her in his arms to let her know it would be okay, but it wasn’t his place.

“____, you have to worry about yourself only. Especially after this, you should-”

This was her time to interrupt, “Jungkook no. Don’t tell me what I should do. I can worry about my friends, I know what I did was selfish and I feel horrible, but you will not tell me what I can worry about. I hope you can understand that I’m not who you wanted me to be, but don’t patronize me, I’m still human.”

He held his head in shame at the things he said in anger, “Stop it. I shouldn’t have said that ____, I didn’t mean it, and I was just upset. It was wrong of me, I’ll let you rest.”

With that, he turned around and began to place his hand on the door handle when you sighed & spoke up, “Kookie?”

“Yes?”

“Come here.” Almost like his body was on autopilot, his hand dropped from the door handle and his legs moved toward her, “Closer Kookie, I’m not radioactive.”

He leaned over her figure, even in this terrible hospital light, she still glowed with beauty and warmth. She reached up to him the best she could and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek and a tight hug.

“I love you, Kookie.”

Those words felt like several aching blows to the stomach; ___ smelled of lilac and vanilla, her scent wafting together in his nostrils as their embrace tightened, and his tears began to flow freely, “I love you too. I’m so sorry.”

I can’t have her in the ways I thought, I wished it could have been me lying with her, making new memories, and giving her reasons to smile, but it never would be true; at least not in the true sense of my love for her. Our friendship will be nothing more than that and as I look at this broken mask,

I still want you.

a/n: don’t ask for sequels or updates, lemme know what you think!

[ahgaseda]

made of stone || chapter 10

⇥ synopsis : when you return after years apart to pursue a divorce from your husband, Mark, you fall back into a contentious relationship because your partner still refuses to give up his dangerous fighting career...

⇥ warnings : this story in its entirety includes but is not limited to strong language and dialogue, descriptions of blood and violence, alcohol or drug use, and explicit sexual content, and is intended for an adult audience only!

The sky darkened overhead, a sole warning of the storm to come. You could feel a tempest on the wind, sweeping into your hair as Mark followed you inside the house.

“Why didn’t you call me as soon as you saw him?” he asked, shutting the door behind you both. Jong-kook’s unsolicited visit had understandably soured his mood.

Turning slightly as you walked, you replied, “I didn’t think he was that big of a threat.”

Mark’s tone dropped with severity. “He’s dangerous.”

You scoffed. “I gathered that.”

Mark grabbed a nearby shirt and pulled it on, covering his bare chest from the slight cold. “You still doing that jiu jitsu shit?” he questioned, a slight taunt to his voice.

Folding your arms, you smarted, “Yes, and I can have you pinned in submission before you could say ‘jiu jitsu shit.’”

Mark let his tongue linger at the corner of his mouth before whispering, “You always did like wrestling before fucking.”

Your eyes widened and you exclaimed, “Well, that escalated quickly.”

Mark chuckled darkly.

The tension was distracting and you quickly broke the spell by moving into the living room and searching the coffee table for the familiar stack of documents. A moment later, you called, “Where are the divorce papers?”

Mark followed you into the room, plopping down on the sofa. “I may have…”

You glared.

Mark turned toward the fireplace and murmured innocently, “I got cold.”

Clocking the remnants of a fire in the hearth (and what was presumably the ashes of your divorce papers), you rolled your eyes and groaned, “Why am I not surprised?”

“Because this,” Mark said, pointing between you and him. “This is the real deal.”

You sat down on the opposite end of the couch, leaning back and glaring irritably. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” Mark pressed, matching your stubbornness. “You and I are gonna live and die in this house. We’re gonna get old and cranky.”

You cocked an eyebrow. “Even more so than we are now?”

“Oh, yeah,” he snickered.

Exhaling loudly, your words turned somber. “How are you going to grow old with me if you die in a fight?”

Mark shook his head, resistant. “I will never die in a fight.”

You bristled with frustration, crossing your arms over your chest tightly again. “Have you thought even for just a moment about what would happen to me if you did?” you asked, voice trembling.

Mark hissed with disdain, “You wouldn’t have to keep paying that divorce lawyer...”

Your eyes widened and you leapt from your place on the sofa, wanting desperately to leave the room before you screamed at him. In the meantime, you cried, “I hate you for saying that.”

Mark jumped up, shadowing your moves, and asked, “What would happen if I died in the ring? Enlighten me.”

“I’m alive because of you, Mark,” you told him, tears welling in your eyes. “You damn well know that. There has never been a time in my life that I was without you.”

Mark wanted to fold, but he was still too angry. “Are you forgetting the past two years?”

“Yeah, the two years I spent trying to live without you so I would be prepared for the real thing when you leave me.”

Mark pointed at you and rasped bitterly, “I never left you. You left. Not me!”

“God, Mark, you kept pushing,” you borderline yelled, throwing up your hands in exasperation. “Every fight, you were worse and worse. You didn’t tap out when you should have. You keep wanting to dance with the devil and you don’t give a damn about leaving me behind.”

Mark paused, his gaze falling to your shaking fingers - a sign of your adrenaline. Fighting with him was taxing, he knew that.

You simmered, wondering why he had stopped mid-argument. You knew he would never surrender that easily.

Finally, Mark whispered, “The only devil I dance with is you.”

You watched him move to the stereo and hit play. For a few seconds it took you a moment to put the first notes together, but when you recognized the song, tears finally slipped from your eyes.

“Mark,” you whimpered, emotions billowing inside to the point of overwhelming you.

In a heartbeat he was taking you in his arms, pulling you to the clear space in the living room. Briefly, you hesitated and then you gave into what you wanted and let him lead.

“It’s our song,” Mark sighed, reaching up to wipe a tear as it rolled down your cheek.

“Yeah,” you trailed, thinking about your first dance as husband and wife at your wedding. You had been so happy that day - so in love. You should have known it was too good to last.

Mark held you close, shuffling in a loose pattern around the room as he danced with you. He knew the shortlist of things that could soothe your wrath in an instant and this was consistently one of them.

You buried yourself against him, resting your head on his shoulder with your lips at the base of his neck. Tempted to leave a tender kiss, you resisted; still too angry.

Mark, on the other hand, roamed the pads of his fingers across your body, lingering on your hips and down your spine where he knew you were weakest. If he could just make you remember how much you loved him, how nothing could ever shake you in your feelings.

He had never meant to reach your limit. He thought your threshold was endless and truth be told, he could admit he pushed too hard. When you left, he knew he had made the mistake of his life. You endured so much for his sake, but eventually you broke and he had no one to blame but himself.

“You promised,” Mark whispered by your ear. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

Opening your eyes, you breathed him in, basking in a warmth only he could give. He smelled of sweat and metal and something wholly Mark. Blinking, you asked, “What?”

“For richer or poorer, in sickness and in health. You promised never to leave.”

Pulling back, you met his eyes and glared. “You gave me no choice.”

Mark made a noise of dissent and said, “So, I took more risks in fights. How is that any different from what we had done before?”

Placing your hands on his chest, you leaned back and snapped, “This is all my fault, huh? I’m the one to blame for this failing marriage?”

Mark groaned loudly and borderline shouted, “This marriage isn’t failing!”

You flinched when he pulled away and watched him pace, running his hands through his hair. “You asked too much of me, Mark!” you finally yelled. “I couldn’t take it anymore!”

Mark rounded on you and countered, “And your only option was to stop loving me?”

The argument was devolving again, you could feel the shift in the room. Trembling with hurt, you continued, “If you wanna pin all of this on me so you can sleep at night, be my fucking guest!”

“What do you want from me?” Mark screamed, his voice breaking.

You softened only for a moment to answer, “You know what I want.”

He shook his head vehemently. “Pick something else.”

“Oh my god,” you sighed, stepping closer to him. “Stop fighting.”

Your husband frowned. “No.”

“Stop fighting!”

“No!”

“Please,” you murmured. Rain began to gently batter the roof.

Mark stopped, hesitating.

“Mark, I beg you,” you spoke shakily, sliding back into his grasp as you took his face in your hands. “I want to stay. I want to be with you. But I’m not strong enough.”

“I…” Mark shuddered. “Can’t.”

Bristling with wrath, you tore yourself free of his arms and stomped to your purse, yanking out papers and holding them out. “Knowing you and your affinity for fires, I brought a spare.”

Silence ensued. For a moment, you and Mark merely stared at the pages that would end your life together. Mark broke the stalemate as he grabbed a pen from the table and stalked toward you.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Mark began levelly, his heart on the line. Holding up the pen and clicking it loudly, he suddenly extended it in your direction and said, “I will sign... after you do.”

Your brow furrowed. “What?”

“Sign them first,” he echoed, emotionless. “Then, I will.”

Your gaze drifted from the intensity of his eyes to the pen held nimbly between his knuckles. Tentatively, you took the pen from his fingers, wondering if it had always felt so heavy. Glancing down at the form, you found the line where your signature was supposed to be and pressed down.

But you couldn’t do it.

Your hand shook and everything in your body rebelled against it. There was no way you could sign your name. Tears festered in your eyes as you bit your lip, willing yourself to scribble your initials and be done with it at long last.

Finally, you gave up, tossing the pen onto the table loudly and burying your face in your hands.

“I knew it,” Mark murmured, watching you intently as a smile of relief played at his mouth.

You rose in a flash, grabbing your purse and rushing for the door.

“There she goes again,” Mark exclaimed, charging after you. “Always running away!”

You raced outside, crying out when you became doused in the rainfall. Fumbling for your keys, you stomped toward the car with Mark in hot pursuit.

“You idiot, you’re gonna get sick,” Mark shouted, sprinting to your hip and holding out the sides of his shirt, trying to cover your already drenched head.

You stopped in place, turning to him with an irritated scowl. “What did you call me?”

“An idiot,” Mark replied without missing a beat. “Which you are for running out in a storm like this.”

“I’m not an idiot,” you snapped, lips in a taut, angry line.

“Woman, get in the damn car. Haven’t you noticed it’s raining?”

You planted your feet, batting your eyes as rain mingled between your lashes. “No.”

“No?” your husband questioned incredulously.

You huffed, “I’m not an idiot.”

“You’re right. I’m the idiot. I’m an idiot for letting someone like you marry the likes of me. I’m an idiot for not standing by you. I’m an idiot for letting you leave. And I’m damn sure an idiot if I let you do it again,” Mark declared, his wet hair sticking to his forehead. But no amount of rain could dampen the fire in his eyes.

Your brow furrowed at his words, yet your heart soared.

Mark stepped toward you and said, “Now kiss me goodbye and be on your way.”

You widened your eyes in surprise as you felt your resolve crumbling. “Kiss you?”

Mark paused, but ultimately asked, “Why didn’t you sign the papers?”

You didn’t want to fight it anymore. Letting your shoulders slump in defeat, you whispered,  “Because I love you.”

“And I love you,” Mark said, taking your face in his hands. “Now, kiss me. Damn it.”

chapter 09 ⇤ chapter 10 ⇥ chapter 11

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This work is fictional and for entertainment purposes only, but is licensed and protected under a creative commons attribution-noncommercial-noderivatives 4.0 international license. Any instances of plagiarism will be dealt with accordingly. Do not re-post or translate without my permission.

{ copyright 2018-2020 © ahgaseda // all rights reserved }

[bourbonandbadluck]

Character Sheet: Declan Hane

Character Chart

Character’s Full Name: Declan Hane

Reason or Meaning of Name: Random last name, and I just really liked the name Declan for a Gilnean.

Character’s Nickname/Alias: Bastard, Dec, Scoundrel, The Beast of Bourbon.

Reason for Nickname/Alias: Dec sort of stands to reason as most people shorten names for nicknames. Bastard and Scoundrel because he tends to get labeled a lot and those were the more polite names he’s known by. The Beast of Bourbon was the nickname he got in the Cavalry. Nothing gains you a nickname better than drinking two cases of bourbon as a worgen.

Birth Date: January 18

Physical appearance

Age:  37

How old does he/she appear: Late twenties, early thirties. He’s fairly well preserved.

Weight: 190 pounds.

Height: 5'10″

Body build: For his size he’s fairly lean, well muscled and keeps himself in good shape due to work. Can’t climb or run if you’re gut gets in the way or you have shit for stamina.

Shape of face: Square-ish? Bit of an oval tossed in.

Eye color: Ocean Blue

Glasses or contacts: None

Skin tone: Pale (Let’s face it, he’s Gilnean) But tanned to a nice copper.

Distinguishing marks: Scar causing a gap in his right eyebrow, 18th Gilnean Cavalry Tattoo on his left Bicep. Light scars along his arms and legs from combat and general fuck ups. Tattoo from his sailing days on his chest and a compass on his forearm.

Predominant features: Everyone says it’s his hair.

Hair color: Sandy blond.

Type of hair: Thick and soft

Hairstyle: Short but not cropped, kept a little longer on top.

Voice:  Mid range leaning towards the deeper spectrum, sort of gravelly.

Overall Attractiveness: General consensus is he’s very attractive.

Physical Disabilities: None

Usual Fashion of Dress: Casual and comfortable. Usually cotton shirts that breath, leather boots and comfortable pants of a cotton blend.

Favorite Outfit: His every day clothes?

Jewelry or Accessories: Besides four revolvers, he wears a braided leather necklace with a silver wire pendant housing soapstone carved into a compass, with a wedding band hanging beside it. He always has a black scarf as well and an old battered tin flask on his belt,  engraved with a horse head and faded lettering beneath.

Personality

Good Personality Traits: Sense of humor (Perhaps too much of one), Good natured, easy going and fun loving. Opportunistic.

Bad Personality Traits: Trust issues and is emotionally constipated.

Mood Character is Most Often In: Always a good mood.

Sense of Humor: Sarcastic, witty and a little dark with a whole lot of goofy.

Character’s Greatest Joy In Life: Challenges and adventure. And because it goes without saying, @shaeli-dawson

Character’s Greatest Fear: Losing the one he loves, being betrayed. Terrified of deep water.

What single event would most throw this character’s life into complete turmoil?  If something were to happen to Shaeli ( @shaeli-dawson )

Character Is Most at Ease When: He’s generally always at ease, but he’s most at ease when he’s enjoying time with Shaeli.

Most Ill at Ease When: Dealing with his own emotions, when he’s had a nightmare or forced to think about his son and his past.

Enraged When: Someone steals from him, or someone harms Shaeli (Running theme here.)

Depressed or Sad When: Thinking about his son, the what if’s and what could have beens. Thinking about home.

Life Philosophy: “Life be an adventure, so live.”

If Granted One Wish, It Would Be: He has everything he could wish for.

Character’s Soft Spot: Kids, those who have been abused.

Is This Soft Spot Obvious to Others? With kids, yes.

Greatest Strength: Professionalism, sense of humor and his ability to conceal his thoughts and emotions.

Greatest Vulnerability or Weakness: Emotions. And now Shaeli ( @shaeli-dawson)

Biggest Regret: Not fighting harder to see his son.

Minor Regret: None.

Biggest Accomplishment: To him, every day is his biggest accomplishment, and he tends to celebrate it.

Minor Accomplishment: Learning cartography.

Past failures he/she would be embarrassed to have people know about: He claims to have never been caught. But what people fail to realize is that he’s never been caught in Stormwind. He spent time in the brig on the ship he worked on after being caught cheating at cards, and spent time in prison in Gilneas City after inciting a bar brawl that caused significant property damage to the bar and surrounding buildings.

Character’s Darkest Secret: After his first shift, he not only killed the two men he had been locked up with, he ate them.

Does Anyone Else Know? The only ones who knew were killed in the flooding.

Goals

Drives and Motivations: He’s driven by challenge, to see if he can do it, and the lust for adventure, to see and map the world. Thieving offers a perfect challenge.

Immediate Goals: Working up the nerve to tell Shaeli he loves her again.

Long Term Goals: Continue mapping the continents, spending his life with Shaeli.

How the character plans to accomplish these goals: Already on the road to it. it helps that he has someone in his life that enjoys it all as much as he does.

How Other Characters Will Be Affected: Only one person would be affected, and he hopes that she joins him on the adventure.

Past

Hometown: Gilnean Coast

Type of Childhood: Son of a fisherman. Typical childhood.

Pets: None

First Memory: Catching a bee with his bare hands and getting stung and not understanding why it happened.

Most Important Childhood Memory:

Childhood Hero: He never had one.

Dream Job: he wanted to captain his own ship.

Education: Elementary and apprenticed to completion as a cartographer.

Religion: Believes in the nature Gods when it suits his purpose.

Finances: Off and on thanks to a nasty gambling habit.

Present

Current Location: Stormwind City

Currently Living With: Shaeli Dawson. Yes he’s pretty much moved in.

Pets: None

Religion: See above

Occupation: Cartographer, Professional Thief, Tomb Raider/ Adventurer.

Finances: Fairly wealthy thanks to sticky fingers and a love of challenges and shiny things. It’s spread out through several banks.

Family

Siblings: Two brothers and a sister. Unknown if they are alive or not.

Relationship With Them: Non-existant

Spouse: He’s panicking in between considering Shaeli a spouse and asking her to be his.

Relationship With Them: Shaeli somehow managed to break through Declan’s self proclaimed ‘eternal bachelorhood’ and fear of relationships. It started as purely work, then a fun fling and grew into something more until they both awkwardly fumbled through their feelings for each other and gave it a try. He recently got the nerve to tell her that he loves her. Where it goes from here? Only time will tell!

Children: He has one son.

Relationship With Them: He’s never met him.

Other Important Family Members:  None, he’s alone.

Favorites

Color: Gold (He’s a thief, what can I say?)

Least Favorite Color: Olive.

Music: Gilnean step music, tavern songs and Sea Shanties.

Food: Pretty much if it’s edible, he eats it. (See his cooking talents for more info)

Literature: Histories, Fairy tales (They often hold truths) and Maps.

Form of Entertainment: Dancing, stealing, drinking, and people watching, sex.

Expressions: Large grins and wry smirks.

Mode of Transportation: Mostly foot, and horseback.

Most Prized Possession: The battered tin flask he keeps on his belt.

Habits

Hobbies: Dancing, stealing, drinking, Sex, Cartography, Singing.

Plays a musical instrument? He’s a fair hand with a fiddle.

Plays a sport? Long distance running (Away from the law)

How she would spend a rainy day? Drinking, lounging with Shaeli, or teaching her how to puddle jump and mud wrestle.

Spending Habits: He’s a notorious gambler, beyond that he simply takes what he needs.

Smokes: On occasion.

Drinks: To excess

Other Drugs: Nope

What does he/she do too much of? Gambles and drinks far too much. Risk taker.

What does he/she do too little of? He really should eat more.

Extremely Skilled At: Geometry, theft, negotiating, cartography.

Extremely Unskilled At: Cooking.

Nervous Tics: None.

Usual Body Posture: At ease and relaxed. He tends to drape when he sits or lean against walls.

Mannerisms: Friendly, wouldn’t know formal if it bit him in the ass, A bit crass.

Peculiarities: It’s Declan, he’s a walking peculiarity.

Traits

Optimist or Pessimist? Optimist

Introvert or Extrovert? Extrovert.

Daredevil or Cautious? Both, depending on the situation.

Logical or Emotional? Extremely Logical.

Disorderly and Messy or Methodical and Neat? Declan is meticulously neat. Everything has it’s place and is completely spotless. It’s not so much an OCD as it is a form of professional security for himself.

Prefers Working or Relaxing? To him, his work is relaxing.

Confident or Unsure of Themselves? Some would say he’s over confident. He is, however, incredibly unsure of his feelings.

Animal lover? He’s part animal! Of course he loves them!

Self-perception

How She Feels About Herself: “I’m bloody fantastic if you’s askin’ m’self!”

One Word Character Would Use To Describe Themselves: “Interestin’”

Paragraph Description on How They’d Describe Themselves: “Were told once f’hat life nae be easy, s’posed t’be hard n’you’s nae get nae’where unless you’s work hard at it. But all I’s ever saw were folk workin’ f’hemselves t’deaf’h. Life meant t’be lived! You’s got t’love it, n’live it, ‘cause you’s nae ever gonna know when it end on you’s. Love t’challenge o’it, n’new f’hings t’world got t’offer. Wann see it, know it. N’I’s gonna love every minute o’it!”

What does the character consider his/her best personality trait? Easy going and fun.

What does the character consider his/her worst personality trait? “Can’nae f’hink o’any.”

What does the character consider his/her best physical characteristic? His eyes, and he uses them to his advantage frequently.

What does the character consider his/her worst physical characteristic? He’s pretty happy with himself.

How does the character think others perceive him/her? It’s about fifty fifty between being perceived as annoying, or fun/exciting to be around. He knows some enjoy his quirks and others find them grating.

What would the character most like to change about himself/herself? He’s pretty happy with himself.

Relationships with others

Opinion of Other People in General: He doesn’t trust anyone, but he see’s everyone as useful to him in some way.

Does the character hide his/her true opinions and emotions from others? Bet your booty!

Person Character Most Hates: No one.

Best friend(s): Shaeli Dawson ( @shaeli-dawson), Kat Hawke ( @kat-hawke ), Safrona Shadowsun ( @safrona-shadowsun - though she probably doesn’t know that)

Love interest(s): Shaeli Dawson ( @shaeli-dawson

Person Character (Would) Go to For Advice: Safrona most likely just to see if she would say anything in regards to hersel.

Person Character Feels Responsible For: Shaeli Dawson (Who else is going to remind her to sleep, and eat, and relax!)

Person Character Feels Awkward Around: No one.

Person Character Openly Admires: No one.

Person Character Secretly Admires: Kat Hawk ( @kat-hawke But he would never let on about it.)

Tagged by: No one.

Tagging: Hell, anyone who wants to do it! Let’s see what you people got!

[neitherlandslibrary]

'The Magicians' EPs on Tonight's Finale & a 'Bigger, More F**ked-Up' Season 4

Source

The Quest of the Seven Keys comes to a close (we think!) tonight as The Magicians wraps up its tremendously entertaining third season.

In the April 4 finale, Quentin (Jason Ralph) and his band of not-so-merry comrades storm The Castle at the End of the World to get magic turned back on.

Ahead of the big episode, we hit up showrunners Sera Gamble and John McNamara for a preview of what exactly the group will be facing. And from the sounds of it, things are about to get monstrous.

OK, so what are we walking into in the season finale? Where are our players at that point?

Sera Gamble: Well, at a certain point in the season finale, they are on the Muntjac with nothing to eat but leftover tacos. [Laughs]

John McNamara: Yeah it sort of replicates the feelings of being in The Magicians writers' room. The writers are obsessed with tacos. [Laughs]

Gamble: We're also, sort of headed towards the... well, we're sort of walking you into the next stage for Julia's (Stella Maeve) life. Which, as you know from Episode 12, she leveled up in a really major way. So in the finale, we talk about what that means.

And then, after a whole season of watching Alice (Olivia Taylor Dudley) really struggle to try to figure out who she is and what she wants to do, and whose side she's on, and whether she's on anyone's side, she will take some very significant steps for herself that affect everyone on the show.

When it's "significant," it's usually kind of bad.

Gamble:[Laughs] Yeah, well, it affects everyone! It was so important to us not to make things easy for Alice. Just in terms of the journey of her character. We talked a lot about what happens when you have a bit of a quarter-life crisis, you know? There may come a point where you look back at everything you went to school for and all the stuff that your parents prepared you for, and just maybe you reject all of it. We talked about our experiences with that and it's personal to some of the writers on the show. It's not something where you wake up having a crisis, and then, two or three days later, you're fine.

It was actually kind of uncomfortable to watch Olivia at times, because the torment in Alice was so clear and painful.

McNamara: Just you wait. [Laughs]

Julia's leveling up... is that kind of her reward for what she was put through in the first two seasons?

Gamble: I wish life worked like that.

McNamara: Yeah, be careful of rewards, because they tend to turn into something else.

Oh no.

McNamara: Yup. Dot dot dot... to be continued.

Gamble: So much of what we do with her character and with that storyline, has to do with these long conversations we have in the writers' room about trauma. And the effects a terrible event like hers cause. We try to be careful not to [say] there is a punishment or reward for something like that. With certain storylines like that, we're kind of assuming that, in one's adult life, a certain amount of s**t happens.

And in Julia's case, some very dramatically heinous and terrible s**t has happened. What we're interested in is exploring how people continue and go on, and how the terrible things that happen to you in your life affect you. But I don't think it can really be boiled down to everything that's going on with Julia is a consequence of this one terrible, terrible event. It affects her greatly, it has a lot to do with the circumstances that she's been wrestling with, but it's part of a greater maturing process. Always with our characters—especially on a show where a lot of very dark things happen to people—it's important to us to explore the idea that adult life is much more complicated than just a reaction to any one thing that happens to you.

You have planted the idea that getting the power turned back on—turning magic back on—will also come with negative side effects.

McNamara: Yes.

Will those stakes be made even more clear as we get closer to turning it back on?

McNamara: Oh yes.

Will things reverse?

Gamble: Put it this way, we've just spent three seasons kind of making it clear that magic is a mixed bag, at best. If you're a magician, you prefer to have it in your life more than not, and that's something that was really driven home for our characters this season. Not having magic was a good way to have them miss magic and realize how much they've been taking it for granted. But magic has never been an easy or straightforward force.

McNamara: And any version of how things go for them in the finale comes with a mixed bag of consequences. That'll just always be true on the show. We will always find the good and the bad in every new plot development.

How will Margo (Summer Bishil) fare as High Queen?

Gamble: The immediate consequence of her being High King, beyond it just being f**king awesome to see her in that crown...

Right?!

Gamble: None of it means a whole hell of a lot if they can't get magic back. Everybody's campaign promises—and also just her ability to rule effectively as a magician—depends on finishing the quest and having it work out in Fillory's favor. So really, the first thing she has to do is help her friends get magic turned back on or she cannot be the kind of High King she wants to be.

With Penny 23 (Arjun Gupta) sticking around, how will this impact Kady (Jade Tailor) and Julia's friendship?

Gamble: I have a hard time imagining the women on The Magicians getting all fired up about a guy, in that sort of classic, soap opera way. Everybody has too much s**t going on and, frankly, everyone is too OK with casual, polyamorous sex to really have those kinds of hair-pulling, 'don't touch my man,' kind of stuff. That's not really the show. I think these women are kinda beyond that.

What is The Castle at the End of the World like?

McNamara: Black. Very dark.

Gamble: There may be a monster or two in there.

McNamara: Maybe. [Laughs]

You have given us the dragon stuff, are you introducing new monsters?

Gamble: Oh yeah, dragons are harmless compared to this thing. Here's a tease about the Castle at the End of the World. I'm gonna try to just do a tease here. The thing to know is that, for Quentin this season, he is a quester who has been on a quest, who understands questers on quests. He is a reader of fantasy and science-fiction and he has read Joseph Campbell's 'Hero with a Thousand Faces.' He's an expert in this stuff.

OK.

Gamble: He talks about the kind of sacrifices one makes when one is on a quest, and the notion that, when you are on a journey like this, it changes you. So the person you are at the end is different than the person who set out on the quest to begin with. In fact, the person who set out would not have been able to finish the quest, right? So all of that comes to a head in the finale, and Quentin is very well aware of it. He knows it's not gonna be fun for him necessarily. So if he wants to be a hero of the quest, then he's gonna have to solve some problems to do with finding the Castle at the End of the World, getting in there, and what they do once they're inside. And the thing that you'll see in the finale is that Quentin is very ready to step up. He feels personally responsible to get this done, and in a way, that wasn't as true before. This feels like his problem, right?

This is his hero's journey.

Gamble: When we were facing the Beast, for example, there came a point where he had this realization that the best magician should be the one to face the Beast. And that wasn't him, that was Alice. And in this case, it really is about the person who steps up to face the consequences and pay the price. The hero is simply the one who pays the price and Quentin is the one who is willing to be the hero.

There has to be a sacrifice. Can you preview who might be in peril?

McNamara: All of them! Nobody is safe. There's no...

Gamble: Nobody is gonna walk off the last frame of the season finale and onto a lounge chair in Waikiki because everything went so f**king great for them. There will be... there are victories, and there are yet greater challenges. When things end, a bigger and more f**ked-up thing begins.

McNamara: Of course!

The Magicians, season finale, Weds. April 4, 9/8c, Syfy

[novadreii]

a diatribe about the emotional unpacking i’ve been doing this summer, specifically regarding my anxiety, how it’s affected me, and how i’m trying to drop kick it in the face. 

i will be honest and say that this weekend i’ve been sitting with some mild anxiety. mild, but still there, enough to set off alarms. just this...undercurrent of fear about the future. i go back to school in exactly 1 month, and getting my degree means more to me than arguably anything right now. some of you have been watching me bitch about this for years, but i’m stubborn as fuck and refuse to let it go. it’s not about the status, or the diploma. it’s a struggle of significance for me; since 2012 i’ve wrestled on and off with my mental health and this made staying in school consistently impossible. so in 2015 i made the decision to not go back until i was properly ready. a lot has happened since then, but to make a long story short, i’ll never be more ready than i am now. finishing this means everything to me; it means digging my heels in, working hard, and earning something for myself. something that, for a long time, i really lost hope that i was even capable of achieving.

but as always, doubt always starts to creep once the deadline approaches: what if i fail again, what if i can’t handle it, what if i drop out and have to work boring low-level jobs my whole life, what if i panic, what if i can’t do it?

every piece of text on the subject that i’ve ever read, every meaningful message from all my favorite books/series, has pointed me towards this one solution for when i’m paralyzed with fear: just feel it, sit with it, don’t run from or avoid it. and once you’ve done that, go through your fear and do the thing you’re afraid of anyway. that’s called bravery, and if you repeat this process enough times it will give you the confidence to keep doing it in the face of anything you fear. how often have we heard that being brave is not synonymous with being fearless? fearless is a lofty concept, an ideal, but honey, it’s just not realistic. everybody has fears. the most incredible people throughout history had their own fears; what sets them apart is how they dealt with them. 

my methods for avoiding pain/fear these days are 1) weed 2) tv/video games in excess and 3) avoiding my responsibilities/doing anything that would progress my life. obviously this will not work out for me, not in a long-term sense anyway. 

so recently i’ve just....stopped using coping methods when i’m getting into my fear. i do anything other than my usual destructive habits. i force myself to clean in a frenzy, i listen to loud music on my headphones, i go for a walk around the block, i read a book, i’ve even forced myself to do boring paperwork that i was avoiding. i make a challenge out of forcing myself to do the exact opposite of what i really want to do in that moment.

and THAT’S where the magic happened for me. once i confront Fear and do it over and over and over again, it begins to lessen. i’ve done this before, and i survived. it wasn’t that bad. it was worth the effort it took to just deal with it. 

the truth is that everything in life is a trade-off. you can’t get anything you want without sacrificing something of equal value whether it’s money, time, energy, or any other resource. and on the flip side of that coin, you can’t just avoid your life and desires, not without paying for it emotionally. so logically speaking, if both paths are equally as difficult, if they take roughly the same amount (but a different TYPE) of effort, which one will i choose?

it’s become obvious to me now, whereas it wasn’t before, that i should choose the path with the end result that is most worth it for me. depressed bastard who never did anything with her life? or...who knows? someone who actually tried and maybe got SOME of what she wanted? so now that the two choices are so clear, i’m beginning to feel drive, determination, and ambition again. goddamn, i was born with those traits burned into my personality and identity; losing them temporarily during the last few years fucking hurt, i really did lose a part of myself. but they were just dormant, inactive, because i can feel them faintly taking root again. and it feels friggin amazing. 

so nowadays i’m practicing a new skill: willpower. i believe it is absolutely a skill that anyone can cultivate and work on. i realized that i can force myself to do shit i know i should be doing instead of running from my problems. knowing that i will feel so much better if i just address and overcome what is scaring me is enough to motivate me. i can do this without resistance, without wanting to go hide in my bad habits. my awareness (my true self, separate from ego), knows the right answers, the correct path. i can physically do what i know needs to be done even if my mind is screaming at me to self-destruct instead; i have that power, because i am not my mind. none of us are; we are the awareness behind the mind, so to speak. if this sounds too new-age for you, i’m sorry. but i’ve been reading books on the topic for years without understanding completely. it made about 75% sense to me up until now, and i found the missing piece. mindfulness, the Self, the Ego...it’s all interconnected, and i used to think it was more religious BS that I didn’t care for. but it really isn’t. it’s a logical approach to heal yourself emotionally, and it starts with recognizing that your internal dialogue, your thoughts, and even your emotions, do not make up who you are, so you don’t have to be a slave to them. i wish i could articulate this better, but i barely understood it myself when i first started researching the topic. but something inside me knew that the answer i’d been looking for was somewhere in this train of thought, so i’ve kept with it (if you’re interested, the one book I would recommend is the power of now by eckhart tolle. i know, i know. but it really is the most easily digestible medium for this subject. just know you will have to engage with it and put in the work to fully understand). 

so anyway, that’s what i did this weekend. no weed, no mindless distractions, no emotional eating, despite the low burning of fear about school in the back of my mind. i cleaned the shit out of the kitchen and my room instead, which was distracting and physically tiring. then because i still felt restless, i went for a jog. now i’m showered and tired, about to watch a movie that i feel i actually earned. i think Fear produces a nervous energy that i can dispel with any kind of physical activity, which takes the edge off and makes it bearable.  

and lo and behold, by not being destructive at the first sign of feeling afraid, i didn’t burst into flames or anything. sure, my heart rate might jump for a bit, i might feel a bit sweaty/nauseous for a couple minutes. but then i swallow it and continue on my path.  by going through Fear instead of doing a 180 away from it, i can continue moving forwards instead of backwards. i can grow and progress, not stagnate. and another hard lesson i’ve learned is that the stagnation from avoiding my life has arguably caused me the most pain, far more than the fear of life itself. 

i isolated myself from my friends (missing one of their weddings which i have to try to not beat myself up about for the rest of my life). i stalled in my education. i was cut off socially, emotionally because i was in denial, and going nowhere. 

so i think i’ve just reached a point where anything is better than this. than a lonely, unfulfilled future where i reach none of my potential. on my deathbed all i’d feel is profound disappointment. and to that idea my gut reaction is HELL NO. is this what they mean about actually hitting rock bottom, even though i felt like i’ve hit it countless times before?

because now, i am finally willing to fight for what i want even if it’s the hardest thing i’ll ever do. once school starts, my days are gonna be long as hell. work during the day, and schoolwork on evenings/weekends, so logistically i need to make my life flow to accommodate how hectic my schedule will become. i’ll do so with the following steps:

gonna clean my apartment and car to stepford-levels of cleanliness (in progress, about 50% done). will also go on an organizing spree. i’m generally a neat person, but it could always be better you know? my state of mind is usually amplified by the state of my surroundings, so that’s one of the best ways to help myself.

gonna stock up on non-perishables/cat supplies/toiletries to keep effort spent on grocery shopping and errands to a minimum from september to december. 

gonna nail down a healthy meal prep routine so i can properly fuel my carcass through everything. cereal for dinner won’t cut it anymore.

in general, i will develop solid self-care routines in the areas of sleep, fitness (will work in occasional exercise where i can to let off steam), food, and giving myself mental breaks. again, this will keep me from losing my shit. 

this is my 4 point plan, and notice how little of it has to do with school itself. but i know that if i take care of myself properly, i can ground myself enough to get through anything. 

studying, homework, going to class, the pressure of exams...i feel confident, finally, that i can take all of it on. in fact, i’m starting to feel my old competitive spark slowly coming to life again, and i’m tempted to say bring it on.

and sure, Fear isn’t going anywhere. i haven’t vanquished it or anything. far from it; it’s still right there, making my chest tight when it gets really bad. but what’s changed is that i’m not afraid of Fear itself anymore. that is a huge distinction i’ve had to make, and it’s taken me years to get here. it’s much easier to do The Thing and confront Fear while doing so, rather than avoid both The Thing and Fear altogether. because that way of life was miserable for me, whereas option 1 will actually yield results. and weirdly enough...avoiding Fear doesn’t even make you like, less afraid or anything. what the hell?

so, after years of struggling and cowering and letting myself off easy for everything, it’s that simple. i’ve boiled my approach down to something weirdly logical and direct, because i’m over this shit, to put it elegantly. i will enthusiastically and unabashedly go after what i want in life, and when Fear inevitably pops up on occasion, as it always will, i’ll acknowledge it with a nod or a small dab (lol), and then continue doing what i was doing. i can be afraid without letting it paralyze me. fear isn’t really able to stop my body from doing what i want it to, i can actually smash my way through that mental barrier. i think that is what is at the core of the concept of bravery, and anybody is capable of it (yes i got that from soul eater, a life-changing message). 

so i simultaneously feel insanely motivated and driven for the first time in years, and also scared as shit. it’s the strangest feeling, a kind of nervous euphoria. but it’s okay. knowing that if i just trust the process and take things a day at a time, i will get to where i want to be eventually; that makes it so much easier. in my mind, this lends incredible significance to every little step along this journey. keeping good work habits and taking care of myself are what it’s going to take, and truly understanding that every Good thing i do for myself, even the tiniest thing, is what will get me there one day. it removes resistance from my thought process, and resistance is usually what gets me to cave, and run away. it makes every difficult, necessary step worth it to me, and that is what fuels me.  

so ultimately, my conclusion is this: i’m just going to have to get strong enough to carry my fear with me throughout the whole journey and use it to fuel me, instead of letting it pin me in one place for the rest of my life. and that’s the thing: invariably, over time, the relative burden of that weight decreases as you get stronger. 

so knowing that, how could i not just charge forward like a maniac, fear be damned? because the truth is that i can overcome it in the present moment with enough effort, and in time, it won’t take anywhere near the same amount of effort. pain is always temporary, so i don’t need to fear it right? i just have to use pain, and Fear of pain, and that’s the promise i’m making to myself as i attempt to close an unpleasant chapter in my life. 

i’m finally getting back my drive, my spark, when for so long i just tried to convince myself i didn’t actually want the things that i did. i thought that my goals were unobtainable, that i was too weak or incompetent to achieve them, so i may as well convince myself i didn’t even want them in the first place. isn’t that sad? it really is, and i’m trying to reflect on Past Me with compassion, instead of frustration for all the lost time and unhappiness. it won’t change anything, and i want nothing more than to move forward. because one day, it will all have been worth it. 

[anxiety-trademark]

The week in review:

Raw 10/05 NXT 10/07 NXT UK 10/08 Smackdown 10/09 + Main Event 10/08

Raw:

“This Asuka reign has been spectacular thus far,” d e b a t a b l e

Is Asuka continuing her feud with Zelina? If so, why? If not, why is this 6 woman match happening? Just spinning your wheels some more?

It’s been an interesting experience watching Dana grow throughout the years. Also nice flip by Nattie off of Dana’s headscissors takedown.

Love to see Dana and Mandy matching colors. Tag teams matching gear is my jam. Next is a theme song/name.

Lovely delayed double suplex by Dandy.

Small mistake in Mandy nearly falling over, but I mostly want to compliment the slide her boots did against the mat lmao. That was probably unintended, but looked super smooth.

I actually like Mandy now that she’s not imitating a stripper, but I’d really appreciate it if she could learn new trash talk that isn’t just, “who do you think you are,” repeated ad nauseam.

I don’t watch Main Event, but they should consider having Mandy and Dana wrestle more on there if they don’t already. Those are 2 that can use the consistent practice.

There’s so many minor things Natalya does to keep matches together with greener women. She deserves more respect.

Man these women work incredibly well together. Asuka, Nattie, Dana, Lana, Mandy... so cohesive. Loved that entire ending sequence from the moment Lana and Asuka tagged in. Lana has really increased her speed as well.

I am here to dole out positive praise for the blondes that nobody gives any credit to. Remembering where Dana was in 2016, Lana was in 2017, or even Mandy was in 2018, and seeing them all now? They get my applause. The midcard on Raw is entertaining, sue me. Fun match.

pppfffftttttt love how Zelina just slowly slinks outta the ring like, “yeahhhh have fun with that, this ain’t my fight peace.”

Alright ngl, I am now starting to get sad that Lana is getting rekt nearly every week. rip. First match of the night btw and the commentators are losing their desk lmao.

Does KO have to spell out everything happening in wrestling? Sir I actually pay attention to the stories y’all be telling me. Can I get a condensed version?

“He’s everywhere,” Alexa is creepy and compelling, I’m gonna keep singing her praises til she gives me a reason not to.

I personally just hope Fiend uses new gloves for every new victim, what with covid and all.

“Bury a body together in the woods,” SIR.

I like that Alexa is kept separate from Bray and is solely attached to Fiend. I know that’s going to change, but for now, I like that line being drawn in the sand.

Omg he shed tears. Whew.

Why y’all allergic to showcasing Bianca against people who I fucking recognize lmao.

Again, I know she’s a college graduate. I know she’s smart on some fucking level. Telling me why the sky is blue (cept not really as it just appears that way) AIN’T IT THOUGH.

Put her in a match, that’s where she needs the most work. Jesus.

Oh good we get to hear Nia’s music on the way to the ring. She has the superior theme.

Nia body checking Ruby in the corner. I felt that.

I like Shayna’s joint manipulation, I only wish she’d wear down her opponents before she started in on it, cuz it drastically slows down the pacing of the match. There’s a spot for it if you get the momentum of the match going first, but she almost always just jumps straight into this. 

Ruby getting rekt. What Riott Squad need is a good showing. Not to be damn near demolished. I doubt anyone actually expected them to win this match, but come on.

At least Shayna sold the tornado ddt well.

Meh could’ve been a better showing for RS. Kind of disappointing. Liv didn’t even use any offense to break the Kirifuda Clutch, just yelled dramatically af. Tears galore.

Highlight: Seeing Lana/Mandy/Dana improve & work cohesively with veterans in Nattie & Asuka

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NXT:

Isn’t nxt supposed to be the brand that hides a performer’s weakness? Why does Ember Moon have a mic in the middle of the ring? Have her do a quick interview in the back, or better yet wrestle. Hello??

Don’t thank them, they are your coworkers, and only one of them even said welcome back. sigh.

GIRL I’M SHOCKED THEY LET YOU TALK ON THE MIC TOO like for what reason???

This is why Ember Moon will never be a champion on the main roster jfc. At least she can get away with being nxt champ if she refrains from speaking.

Well damn I was actually interested in Rhea’s promo, thanks a lot Raquel smh.

Io’s like “...nah, I’m good right here.”

Io is a woman of few words, but they are always flawlessly spoken and drenched in logic. Still a huge fan of her as champion.

Storytime. Becky Lynch has named 2 people as potential break out stars that could reach (close to) the heights she has reached. Sonya Deville was one, whom I believe Becky was right on the money with, and Toni Storm was the other. Now I don’t see whatever the hell Becky sees in Toni, but damn it if she was right about Sonya, I want her to be right about Toni as well. So I hope this heel turn actually brings the fire, decent acting, and passable promos from her.

Toni has a swagger you can’t teach; she has an aura and confidence to her. There are just some pieces that have been missing. We’ll see though, I’ll give her a clean slate to win me over.

*The Garganos receive a gift* No.

I kind of like that there’s an unspoken agreement between Raquel and Dakota that Dakota is the star who should win the title, with no lingering feelings of animosity or resentment between them.

Anyway Dakota you lost to Io, plz lol.

*The Garganos see potential in Indi Hartwell* No.

I hate Shotzi’s entrance and dialogue so damn much lmao. She’s so annoying, I’m not sorry. I’ll give her props in the ring where I see fit, but her personality is such a turn off to me.

Such a short match that I have nothing to say about it. Good for Shotzi gaining some momentum. Still waiting to see where Xia Li goes with these losses amounting.

Cool one of the best themes has been changed :/ rip Ember’s og theme.

Sloppy, sloppy attempt at a standing crucifix by Ember. oof.

Ember is short but she can sure jump high, this is true.

Ember plz sell.

Jeeze I nearly forgot how good Ember’s suicide dive is. One of the best, truly.

Great bump onto the floor by Rhea.

Flat landing by Dakota. Bravo. Love how Dakota bumps Rhea’s bench press.

No excuse for Dakota not tagging in when Ember got the tag. Awkward.

Looked more like a modified flatliner rather than a uranage, but sure. 

Love watching Dakota and Rhea work together. They have great chemistry.

LOVE Dakota’s Kairopractor. One of my favorite moves in nxt.

Great save by Raquel, great ddt taken by Raquel.

Sloppy “powerbomb” from Ember to Dakota... that’s a yikes. Ember indeed has ring rust. Eclipse is still a thing of beauty though, so there’s that.

I just want to say, I really like Rhea as a babyface and I hope wwe doesn’t turn her heel when she moves to the MR.

Highlight: Dakota & Rhea working together is always a treat

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NXT UK:

Tell me why the beginning of Dani’s theme reminded me of White Wedding by Billy Joel? The lack of lighting in her entrance does her song a disservice.

Really like Nina’s theme... irritating how they cut off Amale’s theme so quickly to introduce her, though.

HAHA Xia tried kipping up out of the leg scissors and she got popped on the midsection.

Lovely escape...? Alright well, fill the dead air with meaningless comments I guess. No, don’t pipe in applause for that.

Twisting her arms in reverse and then forward accomplished nothing.

I appreciate Dani’s underrated strength.

Decent reverse suplex by Nina.

Deadweight suplex by Dani. Nice.

Amale is... abysmally green.

Took a beautiful German suplex, though.

Do not like Xia’s finisher.

This match wasn’t a mistake, but man talk about lower card.

Much like I did with Toni Storm, all I see when I look at Piper now, is when she cried during the match with KLR lmao. Round of applause for KLR making all of her opponents cry kekekek.

“[KLR] better watch what she says, or else..” or else what? More of y’all gonna cry in her direction? oof your champ is HEAD AND SHOULDERS above everyone else on that roster, plz.

Sure she’s held the title for a year cuz of the pandemic, but if we remove all of that time UK spent isolated, she should still hold that title for a year minimum. Whenever someone wants to exhibit possessing the full package she has, they can step up. Even on the mic, KLR is untouchable.

Lol y’all can waltz out pissy all you want. I laugh.

“We've got witches that can't cast spells, Valkyries that can't fly, and these two can't even get along long enough to challenge me. And here she is, the worst of them all, the ultimate letdown... a piper that plays to my tune.” LMFAOOO. This is such a good promo, I can’t.

Knowing NXT, they’ll throw them in a battle royal to decide Kay Lee’s next opponent. Should run a tournament though.

KLR makes that title prestigious, goodbye.

Highlight: Fantastic KLR promo

---

Smackdown:

Alright real talk, why did Sasha get a title shot here? Why would Bayley give it to her without a struggle when she damn well knows Sasha could easily be the one to take it from her? When was it even accepted by Bayley?

Tbh I kind of hate this feud unless they’re in the same room/arena together. They work magic together, truly, but all of the inbetween stuff was garbage.

Love how Sasha just wants to beat the crap out of Bayley. Solid stuff.

Lol Bayley goes to leave lololol.

These are some clean counters and roll throughs. Always give props to Sasha for her counters.

See, cool, Sasha and Becky’s hiac match was set up with a chair, too... cept they had a great match for 15 mins and then brawled all over the arena. This could’ve all been set up SO much better. Then again tbf, it doesn’t even make sense for Bayley to accept this match with her to begin with, so I get the intentional dq as quickly as possibly on Bayley’s behalf. Would’ve been better if a gm had set this match up instead.

Great acting by Sasha.

How long til KO just pops Bliss across the face? No I’m kidding, wwe would never do that. Setting fire to someone, on the other hand...

Nothing about this promo felt genuine to me; the delivery was subpar.

When does Alexa receive an upgrade from ‘supportive mistress’ to ‘queen that helps fuck up Fiend’s victims’? I do appreciate them taking their time with her arc, it’s rare to see them do such a slow burn and not drop the ball with it.

Highlight: Sasha’s aggression in the ring

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*BONUS*

Main Event:

The sheer hatred I have for Peyton’s theme. Awful.

Peyton vs Billie matches reminds me of the type of stuff I used to skip back in the late 2000s.

You watch best friends Sasha/Bayley, and you see some innovative, impactful moves. You watch best friends Becky/Charlotte, and you see 2 people beating the absolute shit out of each other with vitriol. You watch best friends Billie/Peyton, and you see 2 people who are afraid of hurting one another :/

Nice roll through pin by Billie.

Positive: there’s no crowd to boo them.

Just noticed the bottom row of monitors are behind the barricade, and I just want to know why tf they exist lmao.

Oh perfect, the second I began to regret turning this on, it ended. Okay anyway.

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*NXT shined the brightest. Love how they utilized their women’s division, even if some of it was a hit or miss. Also love seeing Dakota and Rhea work together.