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babbushka · 5 years ago

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Each Eye (3/8)

Kylo was the most feared boss in the entirety of New York City. They said that the crime families were no more, that they had disappeared with the end of an era. You knew it wasn’t true, you saw first hand. The families didn’t disappear, they simply went underground, adapted.

Lucky for you, your man, and your family, no one could ever get rid of crime. Not really.

Mob Boss!Kylo x Reader

Word count: 6.6k Warnings: N*FW, mostly fluff/domestic, mentions of violence/murder

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The next morning, you woke up with a smile on your face.

Yesterday had been stressful, but what was a little stress every now and then? It was late, much later than you expected – already nearing eight o’clock, and your husband was still snoring heavily next to you.

Your husband, you thought as your smile grew ever wider.

You stretched out as best you could, those arms of his tightening around you on instinct, still asleep and yet not wanting you anywhere else than right right right next to him. The two of you were facing one another, and he had wound his arms and legs around you in the middle of the night, after a full reheated dinner and a glass or two of wine.

You simply looked at him for a little while, admired him.

God Kylo was so handsome, you couldn’t help but think. So incredibly, beautifully formed. From the slope of his nose to the plush fullness of his lips, even those thick eyebrows and big ears – all of it perfectly crafted. He mumbled to himself, low baritone in a register you couldn’t make out, hot breath on your face as he shifted against you, pressed his hard cock against your thigh.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes fondly, ever so in love, as you reached a hand up to trace the bridge of his nose again and again, back and forth, little strokes that had him snuffling awake.

“Honey,” You whispered, smooching the spot where his dimples were hidden by a morning scowl.

“Mhm?” Kylo asked, rolling you both over so you were propping your chin up on his chest, beaming up at him.

“Guess what day it is?” You grinned, and he smiled for you, quirked the shyest little smile that had you nearly giddy.

He knew you loved to see him smile, was making more of an effort to do it for you, let himself do it for the both of you.

“I don’t have to guess.” He murmured, craning his neck to kiss you, loosening his hold just enough for you to shimmy down down down his body, settle yourself level with his cock.

“What are you doing all the way down there?” He asked with a hint of mischief in his eyes.

“Giving you a good morning.” You said simply, running your fingers through his unruly pubic hair, teasing that cock of his with just the barest ghost of your fingers.

He licked his lips, and you chuckled just a little at how easy it was to rile him up, how easy it was to get him going.

You gave him more – more friction, more pressure, more speed as you jerked him off. He flushed beautifully, handsome handsome handsome, cock thick and curved and twitching, the most beautiful noises slipping out from between Kylo’s lips at the touch of it.

But that wasn’t enough, both of you knew it wouldn’t be, and you had to get yourself to stop smiling so you could suck him off, hollowing your cheeks around his length.

“Shit,” He groaned, a hand coming down to tangle with your hair, press you closer to the base of his cock, get your nose right up against his skin so you could smell the musk of him. “(Y/N), shit, yes.” He grunted and groaned at the feeling of you around him.

Sucking this dick had taken so long, so much time, so much practice to get right, but once you had, it was a skill you were immensely proud of. Kylo’s cock was huge, unfairly long and too wide, nearly too wide to get down your throat.

But you were nothing if not a champ, and over the years of fucking you figured it out, figured out how to make him cry, how to reduce him down to a babbling mess when you wanted.

You didn’t want that right now, just wanted to make him feel real good, so you gave the best blowjob you could, his fist tight in your hair, breathing heavy up the mattress.

“Stop, please – I want to come in you.” He whined, and you pulled off of him real slow as you gripped the base of his shaft so he wouldn’t accidentally blow it, let him watch his cock slide out of your mouth, seemingly never-ending.

It was flushed so red, cut tip flared beautifully – handsome, just like the rest of him. It oozed and dripped pre-come for you, steady and sticky and absolutely delicious. You just had to lick a broad stripe up the shaft, just had to make him moan for you.

With one fluid motion, you climbed back up the bed, straddled his hips. His hands immediately grasped your waist, dug into the flesh there with white-knuckle tension, bruising tension, held you as you sunk down on his length with lots of breathy little moans that had his chest flushing red in bright splotches of arousal.

Normally you would have liked some preparation for this, for this monster he had, fingering or eating you out or something because he was just too much to handle on a normal day. Somehow you got him all in you, and you had to brace yourself on his chest, huffing and puffing like you won the marathon, like you just climbed a mountain – mounting this man.

“Fuck, god you’re so fucking big, you know that?” You moaned, rolling your hips, back and forth like the steady rhythm of crashing waves in the ocean.

His hands traveled up and up and up your body, pushing and pulling at your tits, wrapping around your neck and holding you there, caressing you, as you fucked yourself on his cock, clenching tight around him, making him stutter out a big groan that you felt in his chest from where your hands were steadying yourself.

“Yeah – good?” He was fully awake now, big brown eyes wide open and glittering honey golden with the sunshine streaming in.

“Real good honey oh fuck – Kylo!” You yelped with a laugh when he wrestled with you suddenly, wrangling you on your back so he could plow into you.

He huffed a short laugh out too, before he started sucking on your neck, pinching your nipples, making you come and come and come on his cock.

You moaned and sighed and gasped for him, eyes shutting tight as your whole body went electric, went on fire.

Kylo’s hips stilled against you after another couple of minutes, and he came, and you pinched his nose playfully.

“I didn’t say you could do that.” You teased, meaning the switching of positions.

“But it’s our anniversary.” He tried, and you conceded, shook your head with fondness and kissed him for a little bit.

You kissed until your breathing had both evened out, until all the relaxation and bliss had started to wear off, until the cramps and the full bladder and itchy cooling sweat started to kick in.

He pulled out of you, made sure none of his come leaked, and let you finally for the first time that morning, stretch.

“What do you want to do today?” He asked, watching you with somehow still hungry eyes, eyes that scanned down your body, eyes that told you you’d really be in for it today.

You thought about what you wanted while he drank in the sight of you. You knew he had something planned for that evening, he always had something planned. Even on a regular day, not an anniversary, just because he wanted to, had something planned.

But that wouldn’t be until tonight. He gave you free control of the day, on days like this. And as the sun shone through the huge open windows of the bedroom, you remembered your thought from a while back.

“Can we go swimming, please?” You asked, resting your head on his calf where he had his ankles crossed on the mattress, “The sun is out for the first time all month.”

“Are you going to wear a bathing suit?” He asked, making you laugh.

“I don’t have to.” You waggled an eyebrow, and you swore you saw his cock twitch.

“Let’s go swimming.” He said, as if it were the greatest idea he had ever heard, making you laugh again.

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The apartment never failed to impress you. When you and Kylo had begun looking for a place to call home, a permanent residence in the city right after you married one another, he had been pretty hands-off for the whole thing. He trusted you, he loved you, and frankly he didn’t give a shit where he lived, as long as it was with you, which meant you got free reign for everything from the amenities to the furnishings.

One of the reasons you picked the huge three-story penthouse, was because of the roof-top terrace and pool that was private access, just for you and him.

In the summer-time the pool was kept nice and cool, and in the autumn the heater was turned on so it could still be enjoyed before the frigid winters shut the party down. And oh what a party you did have, just the two of you, all the time.

You had a custom-built cabana made for lounging, fucking, eating, whatever else you two wanted to do, in addition to a full kitchen and an entertainment system. Usually you just asked your smart home devices to play music soft enough that only you could hear, but it had the power to drown out all the noise of the city if you wanted it that loud. The skyline around you was stunning, and whenever the two of you came out there at night, it often felt like you were on top of the world with all the lights on display.

Kylo had just tugged a clean pair of boxers on, and you remained naked – albeit wiped down and cleaned up for the day – as you re-dressed his broken knuckles before going up your private elevator to the roof.

The weather was perfect, one of the very rare days in the city where it wasn’t blisteringly hot or freezing cold, wasn’t rainy or cloudy, just a perfect blue sky and shining sun, a soft breeze rippling the water of the deep blue pool.

“Put lotion on me?” You asked eagerly, not wanting to burn.

“Sit on my lap.” Kylo nodded, settled himself down on one of the comfortable lounge chairs.

You went happily, handed him the spf and let his hands work their magic.

In moments like this, you could feel how much he worshipped you, could feel the adoration and care he pressed into your skin with each pass of his big hands. He rubbed and massaged your skin, patiently and evenly applying the sunscreen – always so patient, so thorough.

He was silent as he did it, only tapping your shoulder to tell you to turn around when he had covered every square inch of your back and arms. His brow pinched in concentration as he rubbed your front down, taking extra care with your face, huge fingers trying their best to be delicate.

How ironic, you thought, this gentleness, this delicacy, from a man who could snap you right in two.

It thrilled you, made your heart soar that you had the love and trust of this man, your man.

“Want me to get you?” You asked quietly, but he just blushed right to the tips of his ears.

“No.” He murmured, swirling lotion to your thighs, to your stomach. Intense concentration, trying to hide his erection.

He was unbelievable, you thought with a big, knowing grin.

“Aren’t you going to come in?” You asked, arching into his touch, making a show of it.

“Not yet, I want to watch you a little bit first.” He swallowed hard, finally finishing and leaning back against the chaise.

“Ohh are you gonna jerk off?” You raised an eyebrow, let your fingers walk down his chest.

“Maybe.” He blushed, and bingo.

You hauled him up off the chaise, dragged him to the edge of the pool.

The water glistened and shone in bright sparkles from the sun, and you desperately wanted to see him soaking wet and tanned, such a rare treat that you didn’t get to often enjoy. You loved the way the light glinted off of the star around his neck, loved the way it brought out his freckles and darkened his beauty spots, loved the way it warmed his hair and enriched the chocolatey brown color you thought so striking.

“Maybe maybe maybe, hmm. I thought I was more inspiring than just a maybe.” You pouted, looped your arms around his shoulders, went dangerously close to his lips, nipples brushing his chest ever so slightly.

He groaned and his hands found themselves removing your arms, wanting nothing more than to kiss and kiss and kiss your palms, your knuckles, press them against his face adoringly with a quiet, smoldering gaze.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re trouble?” He asked, voice so so so deep, always so deep.

“Once or twice.” You winked, “They didn’t live very long afterwards.”

“Oh yeah? What happened to them?” Kylo’s teeth grazed the meat of your palm, and you shuddered under his touch.

“A ferocious villain by the name of Kylo killed them.” You mused, making him smile against your hands, making him collect you up in his arms, give you a smooch. “Are you taking me anywhere tonight?”

“Maybe.” He said playfully, with a great big shy smile, and you tugged on his ear.

“You give me one more ‘maybe’ and I won’t let you come for a week.” You teased, making him plant big wet sloppy kisses to your neck and cheek.

“It’s a surprise.” He conceded, and you immediately lit up.

“Are we going out of the country?” You searched his eyes, and he knew, he knew he couldn’t lie to you, there’s no way he’d get away with it, so he just rolled his eyes and groaned.

“Not tonight, but soon.” He admitted, and you squealed. You’d been dying to get out of the country for a little while, dying to visit your favorite of the vacation houses Kylo owned.

“Give me a kiss?” Kylo asked, and you complied happily, eagerly, let yourself get swept up in his arms and twirled around for a moment or two –

Before he dropped you, dumped you right in the pool with a big hearty laugh that had you too in love to even be mad about.

“I’m going to kill you!” You righted yourself, laughed at the sudden feeling of being airborne, the heated water kissing your skin, at his cheeky fucking grin as he settled himself back down in the cabana.

“You can’t, I’m all the way over here.” He said simply, making you smack the water so it would be sure to splash him, even all the way over there.

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You swam leisurely, alternating between laps and just floating, letting the sun warm and kiss your skin. You could feel Kylo watching you, feel his eyes on you as you went back and forth. At one point he did jerk off, lazily stroking his cock to the sight of your soaking wet curves, hair clinging to you, your teasing smile goading him on.

He got antsy, being away from you for too long.

Even though you were barely ten feet away from him, he still felt the need to be closer. Always close, needed to keep an eye on you, a hand on you. After he came and cleaned himself up, he laid down right on the tile of the edge of the pool, laid down and let one hand dangle over the edge, conscious of the bandages. You swam right up, half hidden beneath the water, and gently clasped his hand in your own, pressed a wet kiss to his wrist.

You could be mean and yank him into the pool, but he looked so good just lying there, looked like some Adonis with all the muscles in his back and shoulders, strong and sturdy and on display for you. You both simply enjoyed one another’s presence, you floating on your back, and him laying on his stomach.

You wondered what you’d look like, should a plane or a helicopter or an astronaut pass you by. Would they see a mob boss and his wife, would they see the scars and marks that littered your bodies? Would they see the weight of the world he carried on his shoulders, the body count that trailed him wherever he went?

Or would they see two lovers, floating in time and space, content to hold hands on the edge of a pool?

You smiled at him, and he blinked slowly at you, some big great cat. If he could, he probably would be purring.

“I’m fucking starving, can we order in food?” You whispered, just reveling in the closeness, the softness with him.

“No.” He joked, deadpan, leaned over to kiss the saltwater right off your lips.

“What do you want, French?” You asked, and he nodded, gears turning in his head for a minute or two.

“The crepes that are stuffed with that filling I like.” He decided, and you laughed.

“The chicken portabella?” It was barely ten o’clock in the morning, and he knew that.

“Yeah.” He said, humming as he kissed you some more.

“Honey that’s dinner, I don’t think they’ll serve them this early.” You splashed a little bit of water onto him, just the smallest bit that you watched evaporate right off his sun-drenched skin.

“They will for me.” He said, quirking an eyebrow in that smug way of his.

“Alright then, you call them, big shot.” You shook your head fondly, letting go of his hand to push yourself out of the pool. “I’m going to rinse off.”

“Wait I’ll come with you.” Kylo said suddenly, quiet desperation always in the back of his throat.

You padded over to the cabana, plucked a soft fluffy towel from the rack and used it to dry off enough so that you wouldn’t be dripping all over the apartment.

“You didn’t get in the water.” You pointed out, rubbing your hair dry, all exposed for him, only for him to see.

“I know.” He said, and his eyes darkened with lust that you wouldn’t, couldn’t deny.

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After a quickie in the shower that left you both breathless, and wrapping yourselves up in robes that were soft and luxurious, you and Kylo found yourselves with growling stomachs in the living room, laying on top of one another comfortably on the grand sectional.

Kylo was scrolling through his contacts until he finally found the man he was looking for, and dialed it, holding it up to one of his big ears.

“Slip? Hey can you please do me a favor and run down to that bistro we like for me real quick…?” Kylo asked, making you smile.

He always did that, phrased things like that, when he was talking to his own guys. Could you, would you, Please and thank yous, ever the gentleman, ever the most polite. He had manners, and even though these guys had sworn a blood oath to Kylo, even though they pledged their lives to him, would never refuse him, he still asked.

“Hi Slip!” You called happily into the receiver.

“The missus says hi – he says hi back – oh did you get the numbers from Lenny? Good, go take some cash down to his place since you’ll be over there. Ask the bistro to make us some breakfast, tell them who it’s for, they’ll remember the order. Thanks.” Kylo listened when Slip spoke, talked when it was his turn, nodding to himself as the wheels went around and around in his head.

He didn’t like talking on the phone, but he hated texting more – said his fingers were too big for the buttons. He tossed the phone just out of arm’s reach, and you wriggled out of his grasp for a minute, walking over to the massive dvd collection that was stored in the theater room next door.

“Can we re-watch the video while we wait?” You asked, already rifling through the personal home video section.

“Sure thing honey.” He said, fondness in those soulful eyes of his as you returned, waving a plastic case in your hand with a great big smile.

Your wedding had been, in a word, legendary.

It was the largest wedding any of the families had ever seen, ever attended, ever held. Combining two of the largest crime families in New York City was bound to be spectacular, just by the sheer amount of people that had to be invited, but your parents really spared no expense. Your union had been something that the families had been looking forward to for years and years, finally getting the chance to celebrate.

Absolutely everyone was invited – it wouldn’t do to leave someone out and offend them. All the families got invitations, all the friends of the families, all the friends of the friends. You started to get teary eyed, reliving the beauty of the moment, watching Kylo stand with such a straight back, such squared shoulders, fists clenched in front of him from nerves, ears sticking out from where he had combed his hair back, kippah pinned in place.

“Three whole years, can you believe it?” You asked, watching yourself walk down the aisle to the chuppah, a train so long and heavy that three people had to lift it, and you smiled wetly, resting your head on Kylo’s shoulder as you took your place next to him.

“No.” Kylo murmured, his hand giving yours an affectionate squeeze, “Feels like a lot longer than that.”

You smiled, because you felt the same.

“It kinda has been, hasn’t it?” You asked, not taking your eyes away from Uncle Luke, as he read out the long passages on screen, “It has for me, anyway.”

The Organa family had always been very good friends the Serenno family. Since the time of Kylo’s grandfather – back when the family still held the Skywalker name – and your grandfather came to America in search for freedom, for life, for opportunity. But it wasn’t just for business they forged a friendship over, it was for company, for being two sides of the same coin, in a way.

Anakin and Serenno, often referred to as Vader and The Count, built themselves up from nothing, built the strongest, biggest, most untouchable Jewish crime families the city had ever seen. They had friends and enemies all over, but everyone knew them, and they knew everyone. That was still true today, you found.

By the time you were born, all those decades later, the families had only grown stronger together. Every birthday, wedding, holiday, Friday night, everyone got together. You only hung out with each other, only went on vacation with each other. Growing up, you thought that there weren’t any other people in all of New York aside from your family and the Skywalkers, the Organas.

Serenno had four children, all boys. Each of those boys had four children as well, and you were the youngest, making you the absolute princess of the family. You were also one of only two girls, you and Gwen. While you had opted out from being a part of any business deals, you were always around, because of course you were.

Always observant, always watching.

Even from a young age you could spot a liar like no one in your family could, so you were often a valuable asset to just being in the room with rats or cheats.

Kylo was a few years older than you, and he was also always around. Growing up, the two of you often found yourselves sitting next to each other at the kid’s table, laughing and talking and eating together, dancing together. He was your friend, had always been your friend – your best friend.

“I’ve loved you since the first time I ever met you.” He said, breaking you out of your thoughts, as you watched a younger version of your husband stomp on a glass, eliciting a big round of applause.

“You were five, and I was an infant.” You pointed out, making him scowl at you.

“Don’t be a brat, you know what I mean.” He tucked you closer to him, rested his head on top of yours.

Kylo first met you at your simchat bat, when you were literally just a newborn. He had been dragged by his parents to come meet you and pay respects to the family so he was incredibly grumpy, but you had absolutely no recollection of the event, all things considered. You knew there were photographs in the family archives somewhere, and one of these days you planned on embarrassing the hell out of Kylo by finding them.

But as it was, you were feeling extra lovey-dovey, and you batted your eyelashes up at him, smooching the beauty spot on the underside of his chin.

“When was the first time you thought about marrying me?” You asked again, and Kylo surprised you by answering right away.

“When you danced with me at my bar mitzvah.” He hummed, and the doorbell rang.

You waited on the couch for Kylo to go to the door, grab the breakfast from Slip and then close the door again, waiting for him to put everything on display for you, the crepes, the pastries, the coffee in those fancy biodegradable to-go cups.

“Remember how I was as tall as you then?” You teased, “And stronger? And smarter?”

Kylo rolled his eyes, cut into his chicken and mushroom crepe that absolutely must have been a bitch to make.

“Not my fault you had your growth spurt before I had mine. And you were in tall shoes.” Kylo muttered around a mouthful of breakfast, and you laughed brightly at how he was still sore about it, twenty-two years later.

“You tower over everyone now, I hardly think it matters much.” You pointed out, digging into your own breakfast with a ravenous excitement.

“When you danced with me I thought about how it was so much like dancing at a wedding, but I don’t think I even really knew what that meant then, why I wanted to protect you so much, why I wanted to hang out with you all the time.” He said quietly, and you listened, listened with every fiber of your being.

Declarations like these did not come frequently from Kylo.

“You’ve always been so smart, so capable. That day you beat the shit out of those gutter kids for calling you a...well, I don’t have to tell you what they called you. But that was the moment I knew you were different from everyone else, anyone else I had ever met.” He continued, “I wanted you to like me, desperately, wanted you to laugh at my jokes and think I was cool. I wanted you to love me like I loved you.”

“I grew up loving you.” You said, when it felt like he was done. “I don’t know what it feels like to not be in love with you – even before I knew what being in love really was. Sometimes I wonder what might have happened if you never left.”

When the two of you grew up, you became closer than ever. Not quite dating, no feelings admitted yet, but the tension was undeniably there. Kylo, back before he had even been Kylo, back before Snoke and the shitshow and the fight and the murder – before all of it, he was some gangly kid with limbs too long, eyes too eager, eager to tell you about his day, eager to hear about yours on long walks and lunches.

But then Snoke did show up, and when Han went out on smuggling runs, Kylo would join Snoke on whatever adventures he offered, desperate to still be a part of something, to prove himself worthy to a family who had always feared him, always tried to prevent him from living to his full potential.

Kylo would bring you back something, from those trips with Snoke. He always brought you back something. It was a silent promise, something you could count on, something to make sure he’d return to you.

At first they were awkward gifts you didn’t know what to do with. Fresh pears and apples from out East that you would cook in every way you knew how, rocks and pebbles from rivers across the country that you lined up along your windowsill. Eventually he graduated to pieces of jewelry and fur coats, but you found those strange tokens were always your favorite, the smaller gestures just as valuable as the larger ones.

But then, more and more, Kylo got involved with things he maybe shouldn’t have. Smuggling stolen goods turned to smuggling drugs real quick, turned to weapons even quicker. He bulked up, became just as broad as he was tall, was used as an attack dog to kill and beat and maim those who went against Snoke, those who pissed him off.

You watched, watched as your best friend became something of a puppet, a toy to be manipulated and tossed aside. You watched as it tore his family apart, as they were split between wanting to help Kylo, and wanting to kill him. That’s when Kylo went away, had to go away, couldn’t handle dealing with those people any longer; a father who gave up on him, a mother and uncle who feared him, a sister who hated him.

He had no desire to change, no desire to return to the way things were. He was plotting, always plotting, and while it broke your heart to see him leave, you knew that when he came back he’d be stronger than he ever was, more powerful than he ever could have been.

He had gone away for years, gone without a trace.

Occasionally, you’d find a basket of pears on your front doorstep, and even though there was no note or card or hint or clue, you knew.

It wasn’t until that day after the fight, after the big murder, that you saw him again.

Moaning and groaning and bleeding out in a back alleyway, face split open and left for dead your best friend laid at your feet. You didn’t even cry, too shocked at the state of him, too terrified that he might kick the bucket at any minute, that you corralled him up into your arms and dragged him home, fixed him up, cleaned him up.

You smiled, thinking about how he confessed his feelings in a stupor, too out of his mind from pain and death and dying to hold back anymore.

And now here you were, years and years later, sitting on the couch eating crepes.

Wasn’t that something?

“It was the right decision.” Kylo said, making you nod.

Because it had been, even if it was messy.

“I know, I just wish it hadn’t been such a painful one.” You replied, feeding him a fresh strawberry, making him chase it all the way to your lips. “Those years without you fucking sucked.”

He hummed against you, stole strawberry flavored kisses right from your hand, chuckled a little to himself.

“Yeah, they sucked for me too. What a load of bullshit that was.” He sighed, smiling against your lips – as the doorbell rang again.

You frowned, and Kylo immediately tensed, all playful atmosphere diminished.

You got up calmly – knowing that if it were someone here to kill either of you, they wouldn’t be so polite – wrapped your robe tight around your waist, and creeped over to the peephole, groaning to yourself when you saw the familiar blue uniforms.

You left them hanging, recognizing the officers and knowing that they wouldn’t go breaking the door down if left alone for a few minutes.

“Speaking of bullshit – pigs.” You rolled your eyes, pressing pause on the dvd player.

Kylo’s scowl returned, eyes darkening out of something altogether different from earlier, and he stood up too.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding?” Kylo groaned, making you shake your head empathetically.

“Nope, go put some pants on, I’ll deal with them.” You patted his exposed thigh from where his robe struggled to contain him, and he groaned again, not wanting to have to leave you.

You gave him a look and he sighed ever so dramatically, leaning down for one more kiss.

“Love you, be right back.” He grumbled, and you couldn’t help but pinch his ass as he walked past you.

Once he was out of sight, you fixed your clothing and made sure none of your own skin was exposed, before going back to the front door and unlocking all the locks, swinging the door open with a calm smile on your face.

“Good morning officers, to what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?” You asked, nothing but the picture perfect definition of civil.

Officers Poe and Finn were on the other side of your door, and you had dealt with them long enough to know that they would jump at absolutely any opportunity to get you, your husband, or any of the family for that matter, thrown in jail.

So, you didn’t give them any reason to. Where they could take an inch and turn it into a mile, you barely spared a millimeter.

Being that as it was, you stepped aside and let them into the apartment.

“Please take your shoes off, if you’d be so kind.” You said, pointedly waiting.

Finn and Poe looked at one another, and did as they were told. They were smarter than to fuck around with you.

“Morning Mrs. Ren, we have a warrant to search the place.” Finn handed you a signed warrant and you let out a breezy laugh.

“Is that all?” You joked, purposefully being playful before letting them wander around the foyer.

Poe immediately went into the living room, started rifling through side tables and wall unit shelves, looking for whatever it was he wasn’t going to find.

“You having a party?” Finn asked, following you into the kitchen.

Finn was referring to the huge amount of flowers and balloons and bottles of champagne that practically filled the space, all gifts from people wanting to offer their congratulations at another happy year. You shook your head, not unkindly, and brewed yourself a big pot of coffee from the percolator that you had set up last night.

“No, it’s my wedding anniversary today.” You said with something of a mild satisfaction at watching realization of how rude and intrusive he and Poe were being crossing Finn’s face. “Can I offer you something to drink, coffee, tea? Poe?” You called out to wherever the other officer had gone.

“No, no thank you. We’ll be brief, sorry to interrupt.” Finn quickly declined for the both of them, and you shrugged, more for yourself, you figured.

You were never one to be rude to the police, not to their faces anyway. It was much easier to play along and just call the attorney later to figure out who screwed up in the courts to let officers show up at their door. It wasn’t like they were going to find anything anyway, everything carefully hid and placed in places they would never suspect.

You and Kylo weren’t stupid, after all.

Speaking of the devil, you thought with a smile, Kylo reappeared in one of his fine suits, another one of the vintage ones he liked to lounge around in because they were broken in, soft, comfortable. You’d never know that just by looking at him though, in his entirely altogether too imposing state.

No one ever caught Kylo in a state of undress, aside from you.

“Finn.” Kylo gave the officer a clipped greeting.

“Hey Kylo, just need to do a sweep of the place.” Finn said, offering him the same warrant he had offered you.

Kylo took a look at it, read the judge’s name, remembered it for later.

“What for this time?” Kylo asked, voice dry, irritated.

Finn couldn’t help but gulp, he had heard the stories, he had seen what Kylo could do, knew what he was capable of.

He could never prove it, but he knew.

“There was a murder, not too far from here. Now I know I’m not going to find any guns in here because you’re smarter than that, but, the DA wants it done anyway.” Finn explained, making Kylo’s scowl only deepen.

“What do you mean there was a murder, there’s always a murder. It’s New York City.” He pointed out, to which you nodded in agreement, poured a mug of straight black coffee for your husband before dumping too much sugar into your own.

“Yeah you know we’ve been working on that, actually?” Poe finally reappeared, dusting his hands off on his trousers, empty handed, as predicted.

Kylo took a sip of his coffee, gave Poe a hard look.

“All due respect Officer Dameron, you ain’t been doing a pretty good job.” He said.

“How’s your mother?” Poe sneered, and you immediately stepped between them, literally, before Kylo’s trigger-happy finger sent them into a world of trouble.

“Would you like the search the top floor? Lots of fun dressers and closets to rifle through up there.” You offered, bright and cheery, diffusing a situation that could turn too ugly too quickly.

Luckily, Finn caught the tension as well, and he steered his partner away from a showdown that would land everyone dead or in jail.

“Thank you very much Mrs. Ren. We’ll just head up there now and then get out of your hair!” Finn called as he more or less shoved Poe up the staircase.

When they were gone, you turned to Kylo, gave his hand a squeeze. His jaw was clenched tight, and his eyes were dark, and he looked entirely too handsome with how angry he was.

“Hey, you’re okay.” You reassured him, rubbed your thumb in circles on the back of his hand where the bandages were clean and minimal, easy to hide with hands in his pockets like Kylo so frequently liked to do. “Poe’s an asshole.”

“M’sorry.” Kylo said through clenched teeth, but you shook your head.

“Don’t be.” You replied sincerely, a steadying anchor for him, always. “They’ll be gone in a bit and then we can get back to our day.”

He nodded, and you cupped his scarred cheek, leading him back to the couch in the living room to resume watching the wedding video.

Neither of you were really paying much attention to it, least of all Kylo. He was acutely listening to the footsteps of the officers on the third floor of the apartment, could hear them opening and closing doors.

It was only about twenty more minutes until they came back down the stairs, once again empty handed.

“We’re all done, Mrs. Ren.” Finn said cheerfully, and you smiled pleasantly back at him, getting off the couch to walk them out, much to Kylo’s annoyance.

“Alright, you boys take care now.” You said as they stepped back into their shoes at the front door.

“Happy anniversary ma’am, again, we’re sorry about this.” Finn blushed, truly apologetic.

“No don’t be, a job’s a job, right?” You laughed, easy breezy beautiful.

You closed the door behind them, and immediately sighed, tension dropping from your shoulders.

“I hate when they touch all your shit like that.” Kylo glowered, rage simmering and smoldering under his skin, his fists clenching and unclenching.

“It’s easier to just let them do it than fighting them, you know that.” You replied sweetly, returning to the couch where he was practically grabbing for you.

“I know, but I don’t fucking like it.” He grumbled, voice deep deep deep, so deep it vibrated into your mouth when he kissed you hard. “You know what I was thinking?”

“What’s that?” You asked, already knowing the answer, knowing from the way his grip on you was too tight, how he was wound up, how he needed to get that pent up aggression out.

He splayed a big hand right on your pussy, ground the heel of his palm against your cunt, licked and sucked at your neck.

“I was thinking maybe I could fuck you really really hard and get you knocked up so we can have a summer baby like we’ve been talking about.” He growled, and you hummed in agreement.

“Oh now that sounds like a very good idea.” You nodded, “Kylo – hey!”

You were laughing at the way he picked you up suddenly, the way he practically tossed you over his shoulder, the way he went up the stairs two at a time with you in his arms. He wasn’t laughing though, he wouldn’t be for a long while, but that was alright.

As long as it was replaced with moans instead.

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

Tagging some pals! As always, if you’d like to be added or taken off the tag list, please just let me know :) @adamsnackdriver @dreamboatdriver @kyloxfem @heldcaptivebychaos @kylo-renne @callmehopeless @solotriplets @formerly-anonhamster @lookinsidemyhead @candycanes19 @adamsnacc-kler @the-wayward-rose @taylovren-types magikevalynn tinyplanet-explorers @chelsjnov romancedeldiablo

#reader insert #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #mob boss au #my writing #adam driver character #each eye #bit of a short domestic chapter yall #part 2 of the anniversary comes in the next one #:)#x

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airadam · 4 years ago

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Episode 137 : Goodbye Summer

"I'm like when we turn the clocks back in October..."

- Sha

The autumn is here, but given that we're still mostly shut up in the house, it's a pretty academic point. Still, it means that musically we start looking in the hoodies and Timbs direction, and some of that cold weather flavour makes its way into this month's selection...

Twitter : @airadam13

Twitch : @airadam13

Playlist/Notes

Curren$y & Harry Fraud : 1 Luv (Roll The Credits)

Curren$y is so prolific, it feels like every time I log onto Spotify he's got something new out. This is the outro for the 2020 "The Director's Cut" mixtape, but works just as well as a low-key intro. I'd definitely recommend giving the whole release a spin.

Bagnon Titi : Love And Time

We've been to the "Smooth Grooves Beat Tape" a few times, but inexplicably not for this track until now! I personally might have preferred the mix/EQ to be a bit different on this one (more prominence to the bassline maybe), but the flipping of this well-known sample is excellent.

Nas : N.Y. State Of Mind Pt. II

"Mama should have cuffed me to the radiator" is one of the starkest, rawest lines ever, and the sad story of nine friends reduced to three is told with more efficiency than you could imagine possible. Sequels often disappoint compared to the originals, but this is a worthy successor to the first "NY State Of Mind", with Nas and DJ Premier coming back together on "I Am..." for an underrated classic.

Shyne : More Or Less

Shyne was well into his prison term for the 1999 Club New York shooting incident when "Godfather Buried Alive", his second album, was released in 2004 - understandably not on Bad Boy, but by Def Jam. The vocals were mostly pre-prison recordings with a few things recorded over the phone, and as such, it's not as coherent as you might like - but this was a great cut. A quality bit of sampling from the early days of Kanye West drives this one along, and Shyne comes with the rawness on the mic. "Hip-Hop's not responsible for violence in America / America's responsible for violence in America"? Can't argue with that.

Chemical Brothers ft. Beth Orton : Alive Alone

I remember playing this one in the headphones on many a dark, rainy night after "Exit Planet Dust" was released, so I thought it'd be a good one to include this month. Dark, slow, moody, with Beth Orton's gentle vocals over the top - perfection.

Mayhem Lauren : Peace Dad

Back over to Queens for some flavour (pun partially intended) from one of the biggest culinary fans in the Hip-Hop game. A short and sweet two verses over Tommy Mas production from the "Respect The Fly Shit" mixtape.

[Pete Rock] Edo G : Just Call My Name (Instrumental)

It was great that the most recent release of the "My Own Worst Enemy" LP by Edo G and Pete Rock contained instrumentals of all the tracks - really makes it an essential purchase for fans of these two legendary veterans. I don't know if the bass and horn samples come from the same place, but the interplay is expertly done!

Nas, Remy Ma, Ghostface Killah, Dave East, Styles P, RadhaMUS Prime : The Mecca

Brand new heat! From the soundtrack to the new film "The 40-Year-Old Version" comes a wicked NYC collaboration that features contributions from all the five boroughs (with Brooklyn represented by Da Beatminerz on production). This one should earn a few rewinds, as all the veterans get busy.

Shabaam Sahdeeq : Pendilum

We take it back to the heyday of the underground 12s for this A3-side - it may not be an example of Chuck's Law (the main track is a killer), but it's still quality. Shabaam is all Brooklyn lyricism on the mic and Dr.Sato (on what looks to be his only production credit) uses what sounds like a sitar sample as the centre of the beat.

LMNO & Kev Brown : Who's That?

LMNO is one of the least subtle MCs I can think of, but he does his job well enough here alongside the bassline king Kev Brown on the "Selective Hearing" LP. That said, the bass is pretty sparse outside of the hook and leaves plenty of space for LMNO to take centre stage.

Torae ft. Sha Stimuli and Kel Spencer : Save The Day

I've been waiting to play this song specifically in October just for the line that I used for this month's epigram :) Khrysis is on the boards with the heat, and the trio of MCs coming with the goods on this cut from the 2008 "Daily Conversation" LP. If you haven't heard it, it's a solid release, definitely worth checking out.

Da Beatminerz : Take That (Instrumental)

This beat may be almost 20 years old (originally from 2001's "Brace 4 Impak"), but it smacks strongly even today - a testament to the quality of the production and the engineering.

Oh No ft. Buckshot : Gets Mine

"Exodus Into Unheard Rhythms" is one of the first LPs I can think of that was based around samples from one artist only - in this case, the late multi-talented composer Galt McDermot. This track has a cross between that midnight creep sound and some majestic piano business, and while Oh No has a quality verse, bringing in Buckshot as the feature was inspired - perfect choice.

Timeless Truth : What A Life

Straight no chaser from the 2013 debut by TT, "Rock-It Science" (great title). R.Thentic chops the pianos in a serious fashion over a boom-bap beat, and despite this being on a group LP, Solace goes solo end-to-end on the mic.

Rapsody ft. King Mez and Laws : Top Five

I can't quite believe that "Thank H.E.R. Now" is almost ten years old already, but it's an entry in Rapsody's catalogue that is definitely worth going back to explore if you missed it the first time round. "Top Five" is a nice all-southern mic workout with Rapsody and Mez repping North Carolina, and Laws coming out of Florida. Production comes from Amp of The Soul Council, and if I dare say it, sounds reminiscent of mid-2000s Preemo style.

Redman ft. E3 : Ride

This track is the month's rediscovery thanks to my vinyl digitisation project - I hadn't dug it out for years! It's drawn from the soundtrack of a 2003 film called "Biker Boyz" which, from the critical reception, I probably won't ever get around to watching, but I got this on a promo 12". Production and vocal duties are both shared between Redman and E3, and it's really well-executed within the style frame it inhabits - polished, nicely engineered, but with the funk on the low end.

Ilajide : Number One

To my ears, this man is lining himself up as ones of the kings of the bassline - not when it comes to complexity, but just the sheer sonic impact. This instrumental from "3" bangs along with a low end that will give any system a workout.

Boot Camp Clik : And So

When it comes to hoodie and boot weather, you have to include the Boot Camp Clik in any musical discussion. You'd also usually be talking about Da Beatminerz in the same breath, but this cut from 2002's "The Chosen Few" was produced by Curt Cazal, best known for his work as part of JVC Force. On the mic, the late Sean Price, Tek and Steele, Top Dog, and Buckshot of Black Moon kick it straight Brooklyn style, and it sounds very much like they may have had an issue with a certain mixtape DJ...

Please remember to support the artists you like! The purpose of putting the podcast out and providing the full tracklist is to try and give some light, so do use the songs on each episode as a starting point to search out more material. If you have Spotify in your country it's a great way to explore, but otherwise there's always Youtube and the like. Seeing your favourite artists live is the best way to put money in their pockets, and buy the vinyl/CDs/downloads of the stuff you like the most!

Check out this episode!

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themeltedheadaches · 7 years ago

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ALL THE AUTUMN ADKS GURL

Autumn: What’s your favorite thing about Autumn?

the brisk turn in the air, crunchy leaves, drinking warm drinks, cuddling, the fashion!!!!, i can’t pick!!

Apples: What’s your favorite type of apple?

granny smith for life bro but lately i’ve been having fiji apples for breakfast and that’s chill

Apple Cider: What’s your favorite seasonal drink?

HONESTLY i love drinking hot apple cider through a cinnamon stick, it’s a family tradition but it’s more for around christmas. for fall i love coffee bean and tea leaf’s pecan latte but there are no cbtls around campus :( so i’ll settle for the bistro’s cinn-full latte :)

Apple picking: if you could go anywhere, where would it be and why?

rn, i’d really like to visit my brother in pittsburgh! i miss him :(

Big sweaters: do you prefer the cold, warmth, or a perfect in-between?

the cold holy fuck no contest at all

Bonfires: Do you prefer going out or staying in on a fall evening?

depends on the type of evening! if it’s a brisk kind of cold, i love to go out. but if it’s rainy and i’m sleepy and haven’t been having time to read much, i’m staying in, no question.

Boots: Favorite pair of shoes/boots you own?

i love my black booties! they’re lace-up with a really cool velcro buckle and spikes on the ankles, plus they’re wedges. they are My Party Shoes and YES i almost broke my neck in them last satruday and YES it took three people to get them off of me that night HOWEVER they are so worth it they’re adorable and i never used to wear them in high school??? why??? !!!!

Black friday: what is one thing, if anything, you would sell your soul to own?

honestly nothing lmao i can’t think of anything i want that badly…

Candles: What’s your favorite fall scent?

i love every fall scent tbh i’m such a sucker, but i LOVE the smell of campfires, and applecider, and that fake pumpkin-spicy smell, but my absolute favorite is the smell of cold rain on cement, how it’s kind of almost cinnamony at first and then it mellows out and smells so clean and cold and it makes your hands a little chilly and i just can’t stop smiling when i open my window and that smell drifts in!!! (and then my roommate yells at me lol)

Caramel Apples: Favorite Halloween candy?

uhhhh fucking kit kats (still salty about that one time @samfloras fuckin ATE ALL OF MY KIT KATS BUT W/E) or honestly peanutbutter m&ms!! OH SHIT NO fuckin crunch bars. yes. bless those things i only ever eat them around halloween.

Cozy blankets: where do you feel the most safe and at home?

probably my living room back home, i used to always curl up on the couch where there’s the most light with a book and a blanket and just exist knowing my family was somewhere close, and i could look out the window and see the world outside. by the time i left for college i slept out there more than i did in my own bed tbh. at college tho, i definitely feel happiest in the hall lounge (my hall is so codependent and cute i love us) b/c there’s always someone to talk to or cuddle with or just exist with, too. so it’s kind of the same deal as what i needed back home.

Chilly air: what’s your least favorite and favorite type of weather?

least favorite - humid heat

favorite type - brisk but with clear skies

corn mazes: do you have any secret talents/abilities?

i’m fucking bomb at balancing trays in the dining hall and also blocking out how the foot tastes???

Fairs: Have you ever been to a state fair? How was it?

i Have Not :(

Flannel: How many blankets do you sleep with in the fall/winter?

as many as possible! but usually three-ish (one sheet, one blanket, and a comforter)!

Falling leaves: you’re stranded on a desert island and here’s the twist; what three things do you NOT bring with you?

1) a hairbrush

2) an umbrella

3) jeans

Fuzzy Socks: How do you spend a night in in the fall?

quietly and with lots of tea and music and coziness, preferably

Halloween: Do you plan on going out for Halloween this year? And as what?

uhhh hell yeah my school has a pretty small party scene but apparently we go ham for halloween?? i have no idea yet, but probably a basic witch (aka dressing up witchy but also ~basic~ and carrying around starbucks??)

Haunted houses: what’s your scariest memory? (if you don’t have one/ don’t want to talk about it, what’s your biggest fear?)

my biggest fear is spiders or anything crawling inside me tbh

Hay rides: if you could pick absolutely anything to be your form of transportation, what would it be?

BEAM ME UP SCOTTY

Hot Chocolate: How do you make/order your hot chocolate?

honestly i love nestle’s hot chocolate mix even though it is Tasteless AF but hey

Holding hands: do you believe in soulmates?

i believe there are people in our lives that we are meant to meet for some reason, but i don’t believe there is only One Person Out There who’s the Only Person You Need, bc that’s kind of :////

Hot tea: when was the last time you kissed someone (if you haven’t had your first kiss, who would you like that first someone to be?)

uhhhhhhh augustish i think???

Leaves: What’s your favorite color the leaves turn?

red!!!

Mini pumpkins: How do you decorate for fall/Halloween?

as much as i can! i love cute candles and fake leaves and lights and spooky decorations

Pumpkin: Do you carve a pumpkin for Halloween?

usually! my hall is gonna have a pumpkin-carving event bc of fucking course we are, probably someone’s gonna chop their hand of tho

Pumpkin Spice: Is pumpkin spice worth the hype?

absolutely not

Pumpkin Pie: What’s your favorite autumnal dessert?

pumpkin pie!

Rain: How do you spend a rainy day in?

reading, listening to music, drinking a hot beverage and looking at the rain, splashing in puddles, cuddling up with a fantastic blanket, pointing at the windows and yelling “look at the rain” at whoever will pay attention to me

Sweaters: What’s your favorite sweater?

this one i just bought like last weekend!! it was a very hungover purchase tbh!! but it’s gray/white/maroon and it has a hood and it’s HUGE like 3 sizes too big and i wear it as a dress and it’s so cute and honestly it’s the softest thing ever on the inside

Scarves: What’s your favorite album to listen to in the fall?

anything by the 1975, anything by wolf alice, anything by keaton henson, screentime by addie pray - i have The Chillest autumn playlist on spotify tbh

Scarves: if you could only wear one outfit for the rest of your life what would it be?

what i wore last saturday! the black booties i’m obsessed with + these high-waisted leggings from torrid that lace up the backs of the calves + this criss-crossy bralette + this sheer long-sleeved shimmery black shirt…… i looked fucking bomb thanks

Smelly candles: what’s your absolute favorite scent?

lavender bc it has so many tender memories attached to it, my grandmother’s perfume (bluegrass), the lotion my step-dad rubs my mom’s hands with every night - i could never pick between those tbh

Thanksgiving: what is something/someone you’re the most thankful for? any particular reason?

i’m so thankful for my family (which of course includes friends) bc they’re everything good in me and my inspiration

The color orange: do you have a specific song that reminds you of autumn? what is it?

“somebody else” by the 1975, (for late cold tired nights) “email” by addie pray, (for studying in a coffeeshop), “10 am Gare du Nor” by keaton henson (for when it’s rainy and sad out and you’re feelin it), and “feel right” by esme patterson” (for brisk days and brisker walks)

Wool socks: what’s something you look forward to in fall?

the weather officially changing and seeing it on campus!! getting apple cider at the bistro!! family weekend!! going home for thanksgiving, letting everyone know how much they mean to me, finishing my damn scarf

Windy nights:if you could go to any concert whose would it be?

WOLF ALICE i’m SO MAD they played in LA over the summer AND I MISSED IT and now they’re playing in hollywood AT THE AMEOBA!!! AND I’M GOING TO MISS IT AGAIN!! AAAAAAA it’s not like they’re lowkey one of my favorite bands that NEVER are in the united states ever lmao !!! :(((((((

#ask

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giveamonkeyabrain · 7 years ago

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Notes from Prenzl

Another long time coming. Sometimes writing in this format, with the dark blue background, gets me down. I wonder if I can change that in my settings. Let me try. Nope, just spent approximately 3 minutes trying to figure it out and failed. Also lost my impetus to do so. So, back to the keyboard.

It’s been complicated lately. I don’t want to say it’s been a rough go because that’s somewhat mono-dimensional by comparison to what’s happening. I’ll begin with the macrocosmic element. It’s now the 7th of August and Spring has overwhelmed summer and blended straight into Autumn. Not Autumn but rather September, summer’s last stand. The skies are deep blue and and the air is cool. There’s absolutely nothing in my life thus far that I can compare not having summer to. This year there’s been no summer. Granted this is the first time I've ever lived this far north, but even the Berliners are saying this cool, rainy summer is not normal, that it’s the first of its kind in 10-15 years, etc. Frankly, all that matters to me is that I tank enough sunlight to propel me through the 4-5 months of cold and darkness here in the continental north. And so far that’s not going too well for me. That, in concert with being landlocked, has got my spirits in a bit of a jumble. Proximity to the sea has always been prioritized as tantamount to my personal successes, however in the current iteration of my life, love has taken lead in the priority realm. Not that Berlin is shabby. In fact, despite the pushy ubiquity of drugs and borderline disgusting sexual proclivities of the average middle-aged Berliner, it’s a very cool place to dwell, an urban centre than doesn't demand 100€ just to take your first breath in the morning. In fact many days I can go about my business of writing, reading, going to German class, Yoga class, swimming, helping Andreas with the bar, and sleeping while spending less than 15€/day. This is monumental considering I have not had a job in 13 months now and am not sure when I'll have income again. Also The only other place like this that I've lived is Topanga,

Pros are: The Weißensee, a small lake only 6 stops northeast of the house on the Straßenbahn. Located in the former DDR, this lake is always busy, mostly full of Russians on the weekend actually, but empty in the middle, which makes it most swimmable. There’s also no charge to sit on the lovely banks of the lake, however the campy beach area is 5€50. The water is clean and warm and the bottom is not too murky and full of plants. I’ve left the Olympic sized lap pool at Landsberger Allee (the former practice space of Olympic DDR athletes) in favour of the softer, more buoyant waters of the Weißensee. Plus, Sebastian, my Hungarian homosexual swimming partner, also likes this small city lake.

More pros include: our jungle balcony, evenings outside at Ottorink Weinbar, Andreas’ Weinstube, also at a Greek diner called Taverna Apollon which serves free chilled Ouzo with the meal and where we eat a couple times a week (the deep fried feta triangles wrapped in filo dough and fassolada bean soup are practically perfect), long evenings, Friedrichshain Volkspark, and the quality of sorbet here. There are other pros too, like being in love. But, that’s not a geographical landscape so it gets left out for the time being.

Aside from no summer, other challenges include: a life consisting of solving one problem or jumping over a new hurdle every day. Of course that’s interesting to me...but it’s also complicated. The latest hurdle for me is trying to come up with a strategy for dealing with the new girlfriend of Andreas’ best friend Maxim, who literally grates against my skin like cheap polyester. It’s not a manageable feeling. When she's around I close up like a day lily, my heart pounds and I feel sick and nervous. She’s loud and desperate for the attention of men. Her sexuality is grotesque and drips out all over the place. Her hands are always all over my husband and/or any other man. She’s snorting shit in the bathroom all evening, starting at 5 pm, and thinking she’s being stealth about it. Her voice is rough and irritating. She’s an imposter and there’s something about her that’s just not right. I’m doing my best to stay away from her but it’s hard, she's at the bar so often. She has no boundaries. I’ll skip the first worst thing that turned me against her and only say now that her lack of ability to have/respect boundaries has enraged me. There’s not much Andreas can do about that however, and I'm unwilling to take time out of my life to sit down and talk to her about it. All I can say is that next time she touches him I swear I'll tell her to get her hands off my husband. She’s disgusting, she cheapens our bar and my quotidian experience. I can only hope that Maxim see through her ruse, gets his rocks off, and peaces out.

She reminds me of an ex-friend of my sister’s whom I disliked intensely from the getgo. India was under her spell and I genuinely thought she might never reveal the true pathology in her interior. I also didn’t know why I disliked her so much, I just knew to trust my feelings about it. Then one day all of a sudden the predator came out and she was cast out of our lives forever. I hope something similar happens in this scenario. Perhaps that strategy is simply to stay away from the bar on Friday nights, but that will be hard. Maybe she’ll get hit by a car on her bicycle and be out of commission awhile. Anyway, a girl can dream.

Problem solving is a B, especially in a foreign culture. One of my best friends from France was in town this weekend. We’ve been friends 16 years and now he lives in Munich. He said “Berlin is not Germany” which I know is true. It’s much more libertine and free-wheeling than the average German is accustomed to, and this is what I like about it. People and their loose morals and permeable boundaries are a pain in the ass but not a deal breaker. Sigh. Corny-ass cliché of the post: We gotta take the bad with the good. And on that note, I'm signing off. Writing is a bit like farting: you feel lighter and relieved afterward.

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withfeelingoncemore · 6 years ago

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january: new beginnings! to be honest, january always feels a little wack to me. maybe because of how there are no holidays but it’s still cold and rainy and you’re expected to be productive. but I do like the blank slate of a new year. maybe you think that’s bullshit but fresh starts are comforting to me. the first of every month sends a little thrill down my spine. january is for smoothie bowls, even though it’s cold.

february: also not crazy about february, because of the aforementioned cold, although there are a handful of warmer days thrown in, tempting you with the promise of spring. I kinda like valentine’s day even though I’ve never had a boyfriend. in college every year I’ve bought a big ass bag of lollipops from CVS and passed them out to friends and strangers alike. I feel like cupid. it’s fun. february is for candy, as a result.

march: march is just LOVELY. daylight saving time starts!! and the sun comes back till late!!! ARE YOU KIDDING??!?! I LIVE for that shit. march is usually kind of stressful for me, because I always start having a lot of stuff going on, but it’s invigorating! I have to make schedules and stick to them! and now it’s easier because my beautiful girlfriend the SUN is BACK! my dad and my little brother have birthdays, the first birthdays of the calendar year in my family. that’s always fun too. march is for artisan sandwiches, in my humble opinion. go to a hipster cafe and get a sandwich with weird delicious stuff on it.

april: I don’t know why, but I LOVE april. every year I have some weird dramatic exciting shit happen in april. plus the weather is fully in spring mode. I always feel like the year is finally coming into itself in april, like I know what the vibe is. once I graduate, I definitely want to start traveling in aprils. what a dream, seeing the whole world aglow with soft new light. april is for cookies. am I right?!

may: may is pretty solid. great weather, my older brother’s birthday. the end of the semester, although this is my last one (eek!). mays feel like sundays to me (so do augusts, for some reason). they’re a little lazy, a little nostalgic. the last two years I’ve traveled with my dad in may, to quirky cities--amsterdam last year and lisbon the year before. may seems like the time for long walks and sparkling wine.

june: june makes me sad. the gloom comes back to roost and I always feel restless. I need to start scheduling my junes, because otherwise they just pass me by without me doing anything. june feels itchy, like a sweater that looks good but every time you wear it you can’t wait to take it off. june is a rainy friday, things are good but an undercurrent of melancholy runs through that you can’t quite shake. june is about tacos and guacamole. don’t ask me why, just DO IT.

july: july is great! july is always productive for me, and I thrive in the full summer heat. I always exercise a lot in july. I cook more and enjoy all food more, lots of banana pancakes and green smoothies and colorful salads and ice cream cones. I lay outside and read, during long afternoons or late nights when the moon finally creeps all the way out. I can be persuaded to swim if I don’t have to stress too much about my hair. I usually see my friends after hibernating for a while.

august: augusts, as I said, sort of feel like sundays. perhaps this feeling will go away now that I don’t have to go back to school this august (WTF I’M NOT READY). by august the heat I loved in july has become oppressive. august is my mother’s birthday. august gives me anxiety up until then, when leo season is finally ending and my beloved virgo season makes her grand, always-punctual entrance. the end of august will always have that january energy for me, even though I won’t be in school anymore. in august I crave fresh tropical fruit, maybe because I can feel the season for it slipping away.

september: my birthday month! I love the first half of september, but then it just starts feeling endless. it’s supposed to be fall but it’s still hot as balls. september is for organizing and drinking lots of iced lattes and catching up with friends, old and new. september is for wacky cocktails, too. I’m not sure why.

october: I love october! for some reason, crazy stuff always happens to me in october. I have come around to enjoying halloween. usually october in LA is still brutally hot, but we get a few cool days for good measure. those days I break out my sweaters and really soak in the possibility of a real autumn. october is about tea and baked goods.

november: november is another slightly sad month that I still enjoy. it finally cools down for real out here and I am once again overwhelmed by a sudden need for productivity, but I just kind of lean into it. if I haven’t gotten sick yet during the year, this is when it happens. I don’t actually like thanksgiving all that much, but I love my family, so I’m always glad we sit around eating together. november is for pizza, although pizza fits every season just fine.

december: recently december has become a somewhat climactic month for me, with twist endings for the year thrown in without much notice. december is for festive drinks from starbucks and for waffles, especially chocolate chip ones. december always naturally makes me quite contemplative. december asks the tough questions. did you do what you said you would do? does it matter? how are you different than you were a year ago? how are you better? not stronger-faster-smarter, but how are you kinder? how are you wiser? how are you a little easier on yourself?

#text #months #calendar #year #new year #2019

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theo-westenberger · 8 years ago

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Moving In, an essay on returning to my body after helping my mother leave hers

Contributed by Christy Hartman, 2017

Photo by Rachel Hamburg

I remember my first bee sting. I was stung mid-air as a chorus of lifeguards blew their whistles signaling the end of break. The bee got stuck between my toes, freaked out and stung me. It happened all at once. The jumping and falling, the shrill whistle, hot skin hitting cold water and burning needle-like pain. I remember the stinger stayed between my toes and only came out when someone dug it out with a needle. It could only have been her, my mother. When my mom told me that the cancer in her breasts had spread to her lungs, we spent hours on the phone pipe-dreaming. Should we buy one house or two houses in the same town? We both really value independence, but she wanted to live close enough to spend time with my kids. The kids she was hoping to live long enough to meet. She dictated what features she would want in her new car: reliable, colorful, absolutely no brown interior. I began spending hours on craigslist trying to find the perfect everything.

Mom’s Gloves

One day, without much warning, she bought a plane ticket and I had to tell my housemates that my mother and her oxygen machine would be crashing indefinitely in my room in our queerdo house. I wasn’t ready, but she said her body told her not to wait. In the emergency room on the day she moved to California, the doctor showed us her x-rays. Her cancer was stage 4. After hearing the extent of her diagnosis, she said in jet-lagged, crestfallen disbelief, “Wow- so- this is it?”

I have a magnet on my refrigerator. It is a little girl looking out at the ocean. That world is hopeful, composed. It is dark outside but the stars are shining. Nobody can see her face. She is far away, reflecting the seemingly endless horizon. At night in our new house, two small rooms rented from a friend, I would enter her room. My mom would roll onto her belly and pull her shirt up for me to rub frankincense on her back. This time felt intimate, sacred. Often the window would be open and cool air and cricket music joined us. I warmed my hands with my mouth before making contact with her skin, rubbing sweeping circles over her lungs and the enlarged lymph nodes under her armpits. I was afraid of touching her more intimately but I knew the day was coming when it would be necessary. I felt afraid that I would make her uncomfortable because I was uncomfortable. When her breathing and mobility got worse, I sat down and wrote what kind of experience I wanted my mom to have. I was determined to give her a good death. I needed something short and simple to guide me. A mantra for my frayed heart. Dignity, without shame.

Rise. Check on her. Short conversation. Prepare incredibly detailed Budwig diet breakfast. Deliver. More conversation. Meds. Breakfast for me. Help her change clothes. Help her move downstairs. Adjust oxygen. More conversation on the staircase. Find a movie for her to watch. Make lunch. Adjust oxygen. Get something for her from upstairs. Continue making lunch. Get something else from upstairs. Deliver lunch. She requests Chipotle instead. Dignity, without shame. Adjust oxygen. Get something else from upstairs. Text your friend, forget to hit send. Help her to the bathroom. Conversation on the stairwell, she can’t go any further. Deliver leftover Chipotle to her on the stairs. Bring her a paper towel. Bring her a pillow. Read her Pema Chodron. Get myself dressed. Breathe. She is resting in the stairwell, staring up at the ceiling. Go to the kitchen and wash dishes. Notice there is a world outside. The sight of the sky is shocking. Feel ashamed that my mother is convalescing in the stairwell. Maybe people with money don't die like this. I notice the farmer’s tan on her pale feet, her heels weathered from a summer of gardening. Toes still painted salmon pink. She liked to make the extra effort to keep her nails painted just in case she met someone. She was still hoping someone would fall in love with her. Eat some food. It has no flavor. She wants some fruit and asks for three strawberries. Bring her three strawberries. She has been a grateful and gracious patient and she makes me feel like I won the World Series when she sees the plump red fruit. Wonder how long I can do to this. Never allow that thought to land.

I see my arms outstretched and I feel like the ends of myself are far away.

They're touching stars.

Only they don't warm me.

They burn me.

I imagine I am made of paper.

And when I hug myself I ignite.

My mother no longer needs her favorite underwear. I don't know what to do with them. They make me emotional. I photograph them and put them in the garbage can. The one by the curb, so I won't fish them back out. I hear them in there whimpering that night. Used to love and gentle touch, now surrounded by coffee grounds and cat shit.

She spends her second to last night on Earth throwing up strawberries. I alternate between comforting her and sleeping. Her breathing becomes loud, animal. She is suffering and I am tired. In the morning I feel ashamed when I see that the oxygen tubes have slid part-way off her nose and the tip of her nose has turned blue. Around 10AM, our hospice nurse John arrives. He gives me a look and we leave the room. John tells me that she probably isn’t going to communicate with us again. I nod. We re-enter the room and give her a full body massage with frankincense and grapeseed oil. John tucks her shirt down from where it has bunched up around her ribs. He lifts up her torso and gently massages her back. “Do you like that Elise?” He asks turning his face towards hers. Her eyes are closed. She smiles. “Yeah. I like that.” They are her last words.

After she stops breathing, I climb into bed with her, still holding her hand and go to sleep. When I wake up the sun has come up and her body is much cooler. Her jaw has relaxed and her eyes are open. She looks dreamy and at ease. I take off her clothes and wash her whole body with a wash cloth. I decide to dress her in blue silk pajamas. I put on her makeup, which seems silly, but it also seems silly not to do it right one last time. I arrange her hands over her abdomen and straighten the legs of her pajama pants. When everything feels done I close the door and wait for the men who will come and take her. I spend much of the first year after her death wondering when my body will fail. I begin touching my breasts for lumps. Rubbing them. Admiring them. I decide to appreciate them while I still have them. I sign up for a burlesque class. It feels obscene to take a class on strip tease so close to my mother’s death. But I do it anyway. I feel that I have nothing left to lose, therefore I = unstoppable. I join half a dozen other women in a cold warehouse in rainy autumnal San Francisco and learn the correct way to apply carpet tape to pasties. When our class performs a couple months later, my mind goes blank I forget the moves, my body totally numb. I am smiling but it is pasted on, like the pink cardboard things on my nipples. I block out those four and a half minutes on stage, but the warmth from the well-seasoned women afterwards makes me feel connected. They welcome us to their ranks, as one naked organism.

I decide to start treating myself the way I wanted my dying mother to be treated. Dignity, without shame. I decide to stand taller, grounded in the earth, shoulders back, glitter-covered breasts held high. A year later I start seeing a somatic therapist. I tell her that my body is still mostly just a human meat carriage that I drive around. I recently learned the word people use for this: disassociation. Isn't that what everybody does? No. You learned this to survive. Much of my softening happens in the bathtub. Looking down the length of my nakedness, I can’t help but see my mother's body. Her white abdomen and tan legs jutting out. I imagine her farmer’s tan on my feet. I am trying to take care of myself. My right nipple hurt this morning, throbbed when pushed, tender far-away cries. I soak it in salt water, allowing the solution to enter and exit the piercing like water at a cave entrance. And usually I am a bit rougher, but this time I am gentle, merely swishing the ceramic cup suctioned over my breast.

Mom’s Faves

Christy Hartman is an artist who lives in Oakland, CA. She studied at the Salt Institute for Documentary Studies and overcame her fear of the dark at the age of 28.

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rueur · 8 years ago

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Morning Pages #27 (06.02.2017)

Monday 6th February - 11:26 a.m.

I’m home, in Mill Park now. I had to pack it all up pretty quickly. I woke up at a little past 8 a.m. and then fed the fish and the cats, vacuumed the bedroom and the bathroom, then had a shower, then vacuumed the living room and the kitchen. I took out the rubbish and replaced the newspapers and the water bowls. I pulled all of my hair out of the shower drain! My dad came and picked me up, and I ate my breakfast (a hot cross bun) on the way home in the car. I feel a little anxious because I left Emily’s keys under Scott’s mat, like last time. Except last time, Scott was only gone for a half hour and he knew the keys were going to be there when he got back so he could pick them up really quickly. This time around I’m not sure if he’ll know that the keys have been left under his mat before Emily comes home at around 3 o’clock this afternoon. I had to tell Emily that I left her keys under Scott’s mat though. Hopefully this doesn’t make her mad. I feel like it was a little irresponsible, but hopefully she’s mostly fine with it. Her building is full of lovely people. I don’t see any of them doing anything shifty with her keys. In fact, I’m not too worried about them getting stolen at all. I’m more worried about her being mad that I left them under someone’s mat.

Anyway, I’m glad to be home! Except I’m still really hungry, I’m going to eat something else after I finish these pages. I do love the Northcote area, and living there was CRAZY convenient, but I was missing all my things. And I’m excited to start preparing for the new semester. My timetable has been sorted out now and it’s just beginning to feel like a new year, finally. I will be twenty years old in twenty-one days and I am a little nervous about it. My teenage years are drawing to a close. Right after the final performance of ‘We Are Their Children’, Tarsh - an old member of the theatre group who came to see us on closing night - told me that my face had really opened up and I seemed a lot more confident in myself. ‘You’ve really turned into a woman’. That’s what she said to me. The last time she saw me was two years ago, when I was eighteen. I had just shaved my head for the World’s Greatest Shave but right before she left, I still had my very long hair. During my school years, my hair fell all the way down to the end of my spinal cord. It was incredibly thick and wavy and long, and it essentially defined who I was not only to myself, but to a lot of people. ‘Ruwanthi’ was that girl hiding behind all of that impossibly long hair. ‘Rue’ is most definitely a lot more open with the world, a lot more sure of herself. Tarsh saying that to me - and Kat agreeing with her - on the 27th of January, exactly a month before my birthday, was a big deal for me. It made me feel like I was actually ready to be twenty. I do feel like I’ve grown a lot over these last two years after high school, and now that we’re heading into my third year as an ‘adult’, and the end of my second decade of life, I finally think I’m ready to own being a twenty-something. Moreso, after ending things with Ikaros, I also feel like I’m done taking bullshit anymore for the sake of sparing other people’s feelings. He said to me that he still wants to spend time with me even though he agreed we don’t work well as a couple. And of course, I still want to spend time with him too. In fact, I wouldn’t be lying if I said part of me still wishes we could’ve worked well as a couple too. But we don’t. And we deserve to be with people who are actually good for us. I told him that last night. I called him. He had been texting me all day yesterday; photos of Ronny’s house and all of Ronny’s pets. He had spent Saturday afternoon till Sunday night at Ronny’s. I had been writing all day yesterday. It was actually a really productive day for me! I actually wrote a slam poem, using a piece I’d written a couple of years ago this one time where I had experienced some major culture-influenced gender inequality during a particularly heated discussion with my parents. The original piece was titled ‘Brown girl in the mud’, and I retained that name for my slam poem too, because it was still pretty fitting to the parts of the piece that I played around with to turn it into a spoken word piece rather than a strictly prose piece.

Evan texted me last night, asking me if I had written my three daily pages. I told him about that on our date on Saturday night. I told him I had, and I also told him I’d finished a spoken word piece. He said he wanted to hear it. We sent texts to each other for a while, back and forth, talking about our day and everything. He told me to listen to Ed Sheeran’s new stuff, namely to watch the music video for ‘Castle on the Hill’. So I did, and I also watched the music video for ‘Shape of You’. Aside from some of its more explicit lyrics, ‘Shape of You’ was my favourite, but I let him know that ‘Castle on the Hill’ reminded me a lot of ‘The Perks of Being a Wallflower’. He said that he loved that movie. He also told me on Saturday night that he loved ‘500 Days of Summer’! I just have an endlessly good feeling about this guy. I don’t know. I’ve been idealistic before, but I don’t even think this is me being idealistic. I feel a genuine connection here. It might just be because we do have so much in common, so many mutual interests, and that might be the extent of it too. We might not be suited to each other romantically, but I’m not too fussed about where this will lead. I just kind of want to keep talking to him and seeing him and kissing him. I want to dance with him again too, I really do. Do you know how rare it is to find somebody you can actually spend that much time dancing with and not be aware that that much time had actually passed?! Every other dance partner I’ve had has been absolutely shit in comparison.

I need to stop talking about him though. I mean, I have very much enjoyed talking about him and talking to him and all that. I also let Dan know how the second date went because he’s been quite invested in this story, ever since he bailed on me when I wanted to go to Laundry with him! Malith also texted me on Friday asking if we were going out this weekend. It’s funny that he keeps texting me the day before to see if I’ve organised it rather than just coming out with me spontaneously. It’s just that Saturdays are DnD nights or some other thing at Dion’s and Malith always goes with the most thought-out plan so that he is guaranteed a good weekend. Because a night out might easily turn to shit, but a night sitting around some guy’s dinner table playing Dungeons and Dragons with six other guys is a sure-fire recipe for a good time.

It’s 12 past 12 now and Emily messaged me back at noon so hopefully Scott’s picked up her keys now. I really don’t want to finish these pages, I’m just filled with this sense of relief and of closure right now that I just want to spend the rest of this day getting my room and my sense of place finally back in order. Although I spent most of last week home here, I still feel like this is the first time I’ve been properly back in Mill Park for a while. It’s a nice day for settling in too. It’s cold and rainy out, a top of seventeen degrees, I think. There was a gentle storm in the dead hours of the night, and on Sunday evening there was a thunderous monster storm. Nothing flooded this time round, I mean it only rained really heavily on and off from about 8 p.m. till maybe 9. There wasn’t enough continuous rain to do any real damage, but because it was on and off within a very brief period of time, it made it feel continuous anyway. I think next week will reach a top of thirty-one degrees, between Wednesday and Thursday. It seems like summer’s going to be on its way out soon then. With any luck, our last recorded weather extreme for this summer will have been last Saturday, Saturday the 4th. It was thirty-seven degrees for most of the afternoon.

Autumn in Melbourne is synonymous with semester one at the University of Melbourne for me now. I have so many memories of walking around the city in my red raincoat between classes, skipping around puddles in my big, brown boots, and tucking my chin into jackets that have been zipped all the way up. Checking and rechecking my backpack to make sure the rain hasn’t touched my books, and feeling proud of myself for wiping my sopping shoes onto any available matting before walking into buildings and into their manmade warmth. The train stations were always the most precarious places to be during that signature Melbourne rainfall. The floors were shiny with the wet that people had brought in, as they naturally rushed about trying to get wherever they needed to be, whenever they needed to be there. I’ve fallen a handful of times in train stations and have now simply accepted that it’s always bound to happen. It’s a natural place to fall over and thus, people will not make a spectacle of you.

I told Evan about the scar that I have on my knee from falling up an escalator. We spoke briefly about walking up down escalators, and down up escalators when we were kids, and shared our thoughts about how it’s really been so long since we’d last done anything like that. It honestly has been so long. The time just escapes you. I feel like as you grow older, life piles on more and more layers of distractions and you spend all your days sorting through these layers. The mere act of trying to fix this never-ending mess becomes what society believes to be living. Adulthood is just a mass of errands, one blurring into the next so that there’s always something for you to do, until you’re too tired to do anything much anymore and then you realise just how old you’ve become, how many years has passed. That’s why people keep saying life is too short. I feel like people just pacify themselves for decades. I might be at the beginning of my own pacifying. I feel the need to nip it in the bud now. I’m just not sure how, or even if I can. I just don’t want to ever feel like I never had enough time.

#morning pages #06.02.2017 #27

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