#and then Luke is fucking smoldering back there

[puckyess]

Observant | brendan brisson

Enjoy 2.5k of nothingness!

Words: 2.5k

Masterlist

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“Who at this table would you date?” nolan asks, voice projecting and eyes sparkling with mischief as always. 

You don’t know how you always got sucked into these childish games with them, but you did and every time you regretted it. Their dinner conversations always revolved around pushing each other to do stupid shit or forcing ridiculous scenarios upon each other. It turns out tonight was the latter. 

You looked around the table at your options. Nolan was obviously out for giving you this question, luke was sweet, but too young. Your eyes of course are drawn to brendan, your longtime best friend. He’s wearing his usual smirk, ego never in check, probably assuming you’ll pick him. But there’s a sort of curiosity there too, as if he’s waiting on the edge of his seat to hear whose name will come out of your mouth. He leans forward on his elbows, “C’mon, the suspense is killing us”. 

You roll your eyes, shifting your attention over to ethan who looked like he so badly wanted to be picked and then over to thomas. You let your eyes drag over him sitting across from you, maybe a little dramatically so, just to get a rise out of a certain someone. You involuntarily bite your lip when your eyes finally pull away from the ink on his skin and meet his gaze. Always observant, he plays along with your little game and lays on the smolder with his stare and devilish smirk. No wonder girls were on their knees for this. You only tear your eyes away when brendan obnoxiously clears his throat. “If you’re done eye fucking my best friend, i believe you were asked a question.”

He had a point. Thomas was his best friend and that’s close enough to the one you actually want, right? “I’d choose thomas, easily”. He grins victoriously and fist bumps you. You swear brendan’s shoulders slump and an expression you can’t quite pinpoint flashes across his face, but just as soon as you think you saw it, it twists into disgust. “I call bull. There’s no way he does it for you. I demand a recount”. The whole table snickers. 

“Theres nothing to ‘recount’, bren” you laugh. 

He’s still in disbelief. “You pick bordy? Him?” his arms waving dramatically at thomas as if the point was already clear. 

“Yes, brendan. what’s wrong with that?” 

“nothing, but-” 

“But what? Who else should i have picked then?” 

“Yeah, briss, who else should she have picked?” thomas pipes up, leaning back in his chair, smug. Again, everyone at the table looks amused like theyre all in on some big inside joke that you’re missing. His tongue works the inside of his cheek and now it’s you whos curious.

 “C’mon, bren, the suspense is killing us” you tease, echoing him from earlier. He stares at you a second too long, working up to something.  Whatever he was thinking about saying, he decides against it, shaking his head. “I just can’t see you with him”. Or anyone. But me. “Like actually dating,” he shrugs, trying to keep up his facade of what he hopes is nonchalance. “Just an observation.” 

you snort, “youre about as observant as…as. Well i cant think of what, right now, but something that’s not observant”. 

“Well i am when it comes to you,” he blurts. 

Your heart does a combination of stopping and beating 10x as fast at his words. He couldnt mean them like how they sounded, right? 

If you werent so focused in on brendan you wouldve caught the smiles being hid behind cups and shoulders being bumped in “i told you so’s”. But you were completely lost in the way brendan’s eyes were locked in on you like he was trying to tell you something that his mouth, for once, wasnt letting him. He was patiently waiting for you to speak, but words were hard to come by for you right now. Mark nudges you and it’s enough to get you to clear your head momentarily. 

“Yeah, i guess you are,” you admit, sitting back in your seat thinking of all the times he really had been. The heating pad patches he stole from the trainer for you during your time of the month because you got really bad back cramps, the brunches hed force you to eat with him because he saw how stressed you were and how you were skipping meals, and the night drives hed take you on even though he had an early skate the next morning just because he knew you loved them. He knew how you liked your tea from watching you make it so many times, could sense what kind of music to put on based on your mood from the second you got in the car, when to push you to be social and when you just needed a good squeeze and some silence. He was watchful when you went out, protective, and able to read when it was time to go with just one look. All these things he had picked up on and continued to do for you and you cant help but love him because of it, best friend be damned. He ducks his head, fiddling with his fork on his plate when you send him a small smile, the tiniest of blushes dusting his cheeks. When he glances back up, that cheeky grin is back and you know the moment has passed.

You try to settle into the rhythm of the night, but the exchange from earlier has you in your head. How long had you and brendan been dancing around each other for? His bright, enigmatic nature captured your heart from pretty much the first moment you saw him at the center of the room, holding court. You were drawn to him in a way that you’d never let him know out loud. One that’s lived on and grown into all kinds of love, even if you couldn’t say it. 

And he was drawn to you in much of the same way. He could never figure out how you could walk into a room and instantly it was yours, even if you didnt want it. How you could command so much attention, all while staying on the outskirts. He wanted you back then, and he wants you now but apparently you dont feel the same way. 

“Maybe you should go talk to her”, thomas’s elbow knocks into his best friend’s side as they walk home, pulling him from his thoughts. Brendan shakes his head, eyes focusing on the sidewalk and mumbles out some bullshit excuse even though he knows it was less of a question and more of a suggestion. 

Thomas pushes again, knowing the stubbornness of his friend. “C’mon, youre not allowed to mope if youre not going to do anything about it.”

“I’m not-”

“You’re never quiet and youve been scarily quiet ever since she said she’d pick me” thomas points out, never afraid of calling brendan out on his shit. 

Brendan snorts in response. “yeah, exactly she doesnt want me so”

Thomas rolls his eyes. “We both know that’s not true,” brendan opens his mouth to protest, “just go to talk to her.” and then he leaves his side to catch up to matty ahead of them. Brendan sighs and glances back over his shoulder. You’re trailing the line, always on the outskirts and he smiles to himself. Duker walks beside you, talking your ear off but brendan can tell youre not giving him your full attention. You look far away, your smile not reaching your eyes. See, always observant when it comes to you he thinks. And now he has to do something about it. He slows his pace until he’s nudging duker off the sidewalk and shoving him forward with eddie much to the boy’s disgruntled protests. The fact that you don’t even scold brendan for his actions confirms his observations that you are very much in your own head. He struggles with where to start, not wanting to make this about him. 

“Just spit it out, b” you say, sounding tired but still soothing like youre coaxing it out of him when he was the one here to make you feel better. 

He grins, your teasing relaxing him a bit. “Sooo.”

“So.” you echo.

“You’d really choose bordeleau, huh?” 

You bite the inside of your cheek to fight your smile. As much as the situation hurt your heart and stressed you out, you knew brendan wasn’t going to let that go. And maybe part of you hoped he wouldnt, so that you could finally have this conversation. 

When you don’t answer right away, he continues, “what, im not good enough for ya?” he bumps into your shoulder and keeps his tone light but you can tell its purposeful, the weight of his words heavy. 

“Bren,” you dont know what else to say without saying it all.

He grins, noting the blush on your cheeks. He was getting somewhere here. 

“No, no. it’s fine” he holds his hands up in surrender, “bords is quite the package. All tatted, and sexy, and smooth talking and deep” he rattles on.

You laugh then, “are you sure youre not the one in love with bords here?”

“Damn straight he is” thomas calls out from a few people ahead. 

You giggle as brendan shamelessly confirms but then his hand finds yours and hes slowing the both of you down until you’re several paces behind the rest of the group. 

He swings your hands back and forth like hes done so many times before and just like every other time you try not to get lost in it. He sucks in a breath and you sneak a peek at him. Does he look nervous? He hopes not. “I just thought youd choose me is all” he shrugs. Your breath catches in your throat. “And why would i do that?” you ask, fighting to stay calm.

He puffs his chest out, “I mean, im pretty sexy, smooth talking, and deep. I could be tatted if that’s what you’re into, but you’re gonna have to talk to patrice.” 

You scoff, but appreciate his humor. “As if, brisson. Im not dealing with that man because of your bone head choices.”

He shrugs, chuckling at your response ”your loss. But, i dont know. I just think we’d be good together, ya know?” he pulls you to a stop at the crosswalk. 

You watch as the traffic passes you by, unaware of the situation at hand. “And why do you think that, bren?” 

He looks both ways before he leads you across the street. “We’re good for eachother. Like opposites but not”

“Opposites but not” you repeat.

He flashes that smile of his at you. “Opposites but not. Like you have this way about you. Calming-”

“Calming?”

He grins down at you, “yes, calming. Are you just gonna repeat everything i say or are you gonna let me finish?”

You mime zipping your lips as a gesture for him to go on. “You just, make me feel…peaceful? I don't know if that’s the right word. Like im this ball of energy all the time but then im with you and you even me out. Like i feel like i can breathe and just be still, but still be me. Youre exciting but safe. You have such a kind heart but dont let anyone walk all over you, especially me. You’re so soft and caring but pushy when i need it…we’re a good match”

You try to remain calm as he reveals each new insight into the way his brain sees you. 

“I know i dont have a whole lot to offer besides some laughs-”

“That’s not true” you cant help but cut him off before remembering you were supposed to be letting him speak his peace, “sorry.” 

Your rebuttal brings a light pink color to his cheeks. He tries to recover, defaulting to bringing some humor to the conversation. “no , please go ahead and tell me all about my redeeming qualities.” 

It’s your turn to blush, a rush of thoughts flooding your mind.  

“You dont have to say anything. I just wanted you to know. We’d be good together”, he says matter of factly. “Much better than you and bordy,” he scrunches up his nose. 

While listening, your pace had slowed and now you were barely moving. “You know, i think…” you drawl out. “For once you might be right” you smirk up at him. He smirks back at you. “I had a feeling you might say that. I think you owe bordy an apology for leading him on though.”

You glance in his direction where the guys had separated themselves way ahead of you. “You think he’ll forgive me?” you joke.

“If he doesnt, ill make him,” brendan promises and you know that hed keep his word. You settle into the walk back, mulling over the revelation that your best friend actually felt the same way. 

You finally speak up. “How long have you thought this?” “Ive always thought so. Probably since you walked into that party freshman year”. He answers without hesitation. “Well actually that’s probably more when i first noticed you. I thought we’d be good together when you grabbed my hand to help me off the table and you didnt even know me or try to know me. You just made sure i didnt fall and then carried on your way”

You laughed at the memory. “You do love a good challenge and elevated surfaces.”

He gave you a bump, laughing as well. “It wasn’t so much that you were a challenge, it was more that you tried to help me, like it was just natural for you to stick out your hand and help a complete idiot stranger. You werent trying to get something from me, you were just helping and made sure i was okay and i liked that about you.”

You feel warmth spread over you as he recalls your act of kindness.

“You really did have me worried there.” 

“At least nothing’s changed” he laughs. 

“Youre right, B. nothing’s changed. Youve had me this whole time.” you sigh out with relief at finally saying the words out loud. They werent as scary as your mind had made you think theyd be. “I have to say though, the defining moment for me was not you on that table.”

Brendan gasps, “you mean my drunk ass on a table didnt charm you? I’m apalled”

“Big word, briss” you tease, shrieking as his arms wrap around you and pretend to throw you into the street with a car coming down the road. “Brendan brisson” you holler, his hearty laughter mixing with your shouts. Not one of the boys ahead pays you any attention. 

“Okay they are no longer my friends” you huff as he sets you steady, keeping one arm around your waist and tugging you into him as you continue your journey home.”no one even turned around! What if i was being kidnapped?”

 Brendan doesnt see that as a possibility, brushing it off. “Id protect you. now . i want to hear more about when you fell head over heals in love with me” he smirks.

“Oh this is never going to last” you groan, but he pulls you in tighter, hand squeezing your hip and you can’t say that you dont lean into it. You entertain him though, “id say it was that same night, but it was when i saw you with the freshmen.”

He raises an eyebrow at you and you can see he’s trying to work through that night. “You were telling some story and you seemed so excited about whatever it was. Your arms were making these big gestures and everyone was eating it up. You looked so bright and alive. Your energy was contagious. Mackie was clearly hanging off your every word, but like i could tell you werent some jerky upperclassman about it. If hed excitedly interject youd laugh and let him take the stage but the light would always come back to you. You made sure to include mark and eddie and when luke looked uncomfortable off to the side you drew him in and made sure he felt welcome. I hadnt seen that boy smile all night until he was with you and you got him to open up. You have a big personality and an even bigger heart.”

“I didnt know you were watching all that”

“Some of us are observant, bren” you grin at him.

“Im choosing to ignore that comment,” he rolls his eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “so now that we’ve established we’re good for each other, what’s our plan?” 

“When in your life have you ever been worried about plans, mr. brisson” 

He wrinkles his nose, “don’t ever call me that again. Makes me think of my dad.”

“Well i could think of some other things i could call you…”

“Like….?”

“Mine.”

#brendan brisson #thomas bordeleau #not really but kind of #umich hockey #my writing

[arolou]

Chaos prompt 29+Rulie?

thank you so much for the prompt! i hope you like it...it sure is chaotic lmao

29. Sorry isn’t going to bring back the last slice of cheesecake.

(from these chaotic prompts. anyone feel free to send some in!)

tw: swearing & minor injuries 

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“Don’t come crying to me when you guys burn yourselves,” Julie tosses back over her shoulder as she shoves all the leavings from dinner back into the picnic basket.  “Because I’m just gonna say I told you so.”

“That’s not being a team player,” Luke says distractedly, punctuating it with a whoop of excitement when his stick finally catches aflame, a quick burst of light that illuminates the manic smile spread across his face.  “Everyone has to pitch in, Jules.  It’s a band rule.”

Julie rolls her eyes, as much at the comment as the reckless way Luke yanks his makeshift torch out of the campfire and starts waving it around.  “Where was that band rule when you guys left me to clean up by myself?”  Then, her eyes widening in panic, “Wait, watch out for—!”

But luckily Reggie spins out of the way at the last second, his flaming stick knocking against Luke’s with a muffled crack and a spray of orange sparks.  He laughs out loud in delight, lunging toward Luke to do it again.  “Did you see that, Julie?  They’re like lightsabers!”

Sighing to herself, Julie sinks down onto the bench of the picnic table with the cheesecake pan in her lap, because if she’s going to be expected to clean up their campsite and babysit a bunch of former ghosts while they play with literal fire, then she deserves the last remaining piece, thank you very much.  

And maybe a raise.  Yeah, definitely a raise, too.

Still, she has to begrudgingly admit that their excitement is endearing, their prancing shadows falling on the trees as they twirl and duck and dodge around each other.  It wasn’t too long ago that they were lying on her garage floor, faces streaked with tears and bodies flickering closer and closer to translucent, so to hear their happy giggles float away with the smoke is definitely an improvement.

So she shakes her head in amusement, calling back, “Yeah, I saw it.  Just don’t cut any hands off.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Alex says even as he pulls his own weapon from the fire.  There are still a few dried leaves clinging to the branch that crackle and rain to the ground as smoldering ashes.  He stomps them out immediately, but it does nothing for Julie’s blood pressure.  God, she’s never going to be able to relax.

And that’s how she spends the next ten minutes, refereeing the world’s stupidest Star Wars LARP while her hard-won dessert melts in her lap.

It probably would’ve been even longer than ten minutes if Luke didn’t dodge one of Alex’s attacks by running straight into Reggie, the glowing red embers of his stick colliding with Reggie’s palm when he throws his hands up to protect his face.  The resulting sizzle of burning skin might be a figment of Julie’s imagination, but Reggie’s howl of pain is very much real, sending a few sluggish birds exploding from the trees and into the night.  

“Luke!” Alex cries, finally giving up the game and tossing his stick back into the fire.  “Did you just fucking burn him?”

“I didn’t mean to!” Luke practically screeches even as Reggie clutches his injured hand to his chest and rushes toward Julie, whimpering.

“I told you not to—” is as far as Julie gets before Reggie flings his arm forward and smushes his palm down right onto Julie’s cheesecake.  She gapes down at the pan for a few seconds, absolutely dumbstruck.  That is, until she remembers how to yell.

“Seriously, Reg?  The cooler is right there and it’s full of ice!”  She gestures not even three feet to her right where the drinks have been all night.  “See?  I told you this was gonna happen, but you guys didn’t listen!”

“I’m sorry, I—I panicked and it was the closest cold thing I could find,” Reggie whines, audaciously taking the pan with him as he scrambles to throw open the cooler.  His body goes limp with relief when his arm is submerged in the frigid water at last, little bits of cake – Julie’s cake – floating to the top.  Reggie grimaces.  “I really am sorry, Jules.”

“Sorry isn’t going to bring back the last slice of cheesecake,” Julie grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest.

“And I told you so isn’t going to make my hand stop hurting,” Reggie points out, looking up at her with big, pleading eyes like the adorable asshole he is.  Despite herself, Julie can’t help but soften.  Knowing she’s being played doesn’t make it any easier not to lose.

“You’re an idiot,” she tells him, fondly ruffling his hair into his eyes, anything to make him stop looking at her like that.  He preens beneath her touch, triumphant.  “Next time you guys wanna play lightsabers, let’s get you those plastic ones from the toy store, okay?”

“Okay!”

“Hey, uh, Reg?” Alex says, suddenly appearing next to them and peering down into the cooler.  “Your hand is purple.”

“Oh fuck!” Reggie yelps, yanking his arm from the ice water like he’d forgotten it was in there and frantically shaking his hand out.  “It’s—I can’t feel it!”

“I don’t know anything about frostbite,” Luke says seriously, “but you should probably warm that up.”  Then he breaks into a grin, like a lightbulb went off in his brain.  “Try the fire!”

Reggie takes off like a rocket and Julie groans, dropping her face into her hands.  “We’re never going camping ever again, you hear me?” she says to anyone that might be listening.  Which is no one, of course, so Julie sighs and races after her bandmates with a desperate shout of “Don’t touch it, you guys!”

Yeah, she’s definitely putting in for that raise.  And maybe an entire cheesecake with her name on it.

#jmrothwell #jatp #jatp fic #julie and the phantoms #julie molina #reggie peters #luke patterson #alex mercer #rulie #juliexreggie #chaotic prompts #firefall fic #this kinda ended up being more just JATP band but the core interaction and usage of the prompt quote is rulie #so i hope that's okay #what can i say...chaos is best indulged in with all three of those himbos lbr

[daintyduck99]

I Know It With All My Heart

For the JatP/Stranger Things Crossover that @innytoes and I have come up with: Luke insists on seeing Reggie's "body".

Luke grits his teeth. He smacks his hand against the glass, deaf to his mother’s disapproval. 

That’s nothing new, unlike whatever this sick joke is. 

“I’m telling you, that’s not Reggie!” 

He doesn't know how, but he knows. If his best friend was gone, he would've taken most of the color in Luke's life with him. He would've taken the light out of Julie's eyes. 

The way they had flared with determination before he'd gotten into his mom's patrol car is still seared in his mind, along with the bruising kiss she'd given him despite his dad's pointed cough. 

"Get answers," she'd whispered, and he has no intention of disappointing her. 

He won't let grief snuff her out again. 

That thing doesn't even look like a person under the garish lights of the morgue, through the thick window, let alone Reggie. 

He smacks the glass again, scowling at the seemingly unbothered coroner. 

“You’re state, right? You don’t know Hawkins, you don’t know Reggie’s dad. He’s got kids from here to Chicago. That could be—that could be Ricky, or Jason, or some other bastard no one knows about—" 

"Lucas Mitchell!" his mom hisses, as if Mr. Peter's infidelity isn't as locally established as the fucking high school alma mater. 

The coroner speaks in a clipped tone. Their face remains impassive. 

"His parents have already confirmed—" 

"Yeah, well, of course he might lie about it! And it's not like—like they even care!" 

"He has a point," his dad mumbles. 

Luke doesn't have to look back to confirm that his mom is glaring. 

"Don't encourage this, Mitch. Luke, honey, it was very kind of them to let us come. The paperwork has all been squared away. This is only a formality—" 

"This is bullshit! Why can't we at least be in the same room as—as him?" 

She sighs. "Would it give you proper peace of mind?" 

No, but he has to see for himself, to confirm what he already knows. 

What he’d known before Willie had told Alex. 

Not Dead. Upside Down.

They’re still trying to figure out what that last part means, but that—thing in there. 

That body. 

It doesn’t add up. 

Reggie never goes near the quarry, hasn’t since Ray told them that ghost story about the place when they were kids. And for the state police to shoulder in and produce this thing? To bring in their own coroner? After he and Alex found Willie outside the diner? After those government goons in suits had fucking shot at them, and Willie had snapped their necks with his mind?

Call Luke crazy, but he won’t have peace of mind until Reggie’s lounging in the studio with his bass again, giving him that crooked grin, or shoving his latest country mixtape at Julie, making her giggle, or playing Tetris with Alex, or arguing with Bobby about pizza toppings. 

Fucking Bobby. That asshole better be keeping Reggie’s Tamagochi alive out in LA.

Luke swallows a hysterical sob and throws the door open, barreling past the people who attempt to grab him. His mom’s voice drones in the background, and he’s vaguely grateful for whatever she says, because they reluctantly let him approach the slab, the half-covered body.

His heart lurches despite his certainty, despite the fire that’s smoldered in Julie’s eyes since Reggie disappeared, despite every ugly word he hurled at Bobby as he left, and Alex’s insistence that he heard Reggie singing Stand Tall from the stereo, and Willie’s cryptic claims. 

Up close, it does look an awful lot like him. 

He forces himself to look harder and nearly grips the edge of the slab as his knees buckle. 

They got the pattern of his freckles wrong. They forgot the silvery thin scar on his chest from that minor car accident his mom got into about a decade ago. They neglected the sweep of his long eyelashes, the way his right eyebrow is slightly thicker than the left. 

He reaches out with one trembling hand, morbidly curious, only for the coroner to snatch it.

“Absolutely not son, we’ve breached protocol enough as it is.” 

His mom puts her arm around him, and he lets her usher him out of the room. For the first time in months, he lays his head on her shoulder. She combs her fingers through his fringe. 

“I’m sorry, honey. I know he meant a lot to you. It can be hard to move past the denial stage, especially with a tragedy like this. Was that helpful?” 

Yes. No. He doesn’t know. 

Reggie’s missing, and there’s a fake body in his place, one that they’ll undoubtedly get roped into attending a funeral for. That has to be what’s happening, but anymore, Luke feels like he’s split in two when he’s with his parents, the person he knows he is and the person they want him to be. It’s only gotten worse since Reggie vanished. 

He tells a partial truth, one that splits him right down the middle. 

“I think so.” 

One thing that he knows with all of his heart—they’re going to bring Reggie home. 

#the jatp stranger things crossover #when you're in love with your best friend but you have way too much other stuff going on to really process that part yet #Julie knows though #gah I'm like how do I tag this for shipping purposes #peterpatterlina #rukebox #IT WILL BE I don't want to clog the juke tag idk #fics with ash #julie and the phantoms

[thatfanfictionchick]

Headed for a Breakdown

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Lucifer x f!Reader

Rating: E for Everyone

Warnings: Sad reader; Spilled coffee; Crying; A demand for Lucifer cuddles;

Word Count: 2123

Notes: So very many hugs to @crystal13unny for being so patient while waiting for this. You are absolutely the best and I love you 💕

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You looked at yourself in the mirror and tried to pinpoint exactly when things had started going downhill. Your eyes were dull and sad and frightfully puffy with lack of sleep. The corners of your mouth seemed to have turned permanently downward. Even your hair looked sad.

You were tired. You were constantly overstimulated. You wanted to be left alone but you hated being alone because being alone reminded you that you had nothing to fill the void that was taking up more and more space inside you. The burnout that smoldered in your veins was very real, even though you tried your best to ignore it. And you were finding out the hard way the more you tried to ignore it, the more it pressed down on you with increasing persistence.

Everyone knew something in you had changed. It was clear that you were increasingly distracted but nobody knew how to help. Beel would cook for you, but you’d only push the food around while taking the occasional nibble. Asmo would insist on pampering you, but the tension never really left your shoulders. Mammon would drag you out on the town but your smile never reached your eyes. Darling Luke was beside himself, demanding that Simeon and Solomon find a solution for your unhappiness no matter what it took.

All too often, Lucifer would spot you in a darkened room, your forehead pressed against your knuckles, your eyes closed. Your thumb would be pressing down on your eyelid, trying to stop its incessant twitching. If he asked you what was wrong you would spring upward, laughing in a high forced manner and waving your hands. “Nothing!” you’d say without conviction. “Just a little tired!”

The forced laugh, in Lucifer’s opinion, was the worst of it. He hated it. It grated in his ears like claws on a chalkboard. A flat, dead facsimile of the beautiful sound he’d come to know and love. He’d find himself glaring at the back of your head whenever he heard it, wondering if facing your wrath was worth casting a muting spell on you.

No. What if he made you cry? He couldn’t stand the thought. He may have, in his own dense way, left you alone and hoped whatever was wrong eventually passed on its own if it hadn’t been for the lunchtime incident.

He was of course planning on taking his lunch in his office at R.A.D. He had a mountain of paperwork to finish and a meeting with Diavolo that evening, but hearing his name called made him pause. He turned, spotting you with Asmo in the crowded hall, a paper coffee cup in your hand. You smiled and waved, but it didn’t escape his notice how tired you looked. Just then a passing student bumped your shoulder and you stumbled. Asmo reached out to grab your arm, and the cup was sent tumbling to the floor. The lid popped off and steaming coffee spread out in a puddle, small droplets dotting your shoes.

It was such a small, inconsequential thing, really. An accident that would easily be cleaned up, no harm done. Lucifer looked from the spill back up to you and was shocked to see your chin quivering, your eyes filling with tears that started spilling down your cheeks. He was struck still, staring at you incredulously.

It was stupid. You knew it was stupid. It was just a drink. You could get another one. But…oh, it wasn’t just about coffee, even though you had really really been looking forward to it. It was about everything. And now here you were, in the middle of a crowded hallway, people starting to stop and stare, crying over fucking coffee.

You were starting to think about what an embarrassment you were when you were pulled into a firm embrace. A cocoon of black feathers folded around you, hiding you from curious eyes. Lucifer stroked the top of your head, murmuring a quiet “it’s okay”, and you felt the rickety walls inside that had been holding back all of your exhaustion and feelings of worthlessness disintegrate. You gripped the front of his uniform and sobbed pitifully into his shoulder. You were pathetic. You knew it. But once you broke down you found you couldn’t stop. “I’m sorry,” you gurgled. “I’m so sorry.”

Oh how it ached in his chest to hear you so small and broken. Especially when he didn’t know why. How could he help? How was he supposed to make everything better when you had done all you could to keep him, keep everyone, at arm's length while suffering? He kept his arms around you tightly, his gloved hand cradling the back of your head. His wings drew closer around you, satiny feathers making soft soothing sounds as they moved. “When you’re ready.” That was all he said, simply holding you and waiting until you were able to compose yourself.

You weren’t sure how long you cried. Your eyes burned and your throat ached and your stomach was sore. Who knew inconsolable weeping was such an ab workout? The darkness created by his wings only encouraged you to let it all out. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so well protected and you wondered if this was the way Luci had made others feel in the Celestial realm.

When you finally managed to at least come down to the sniffling range you felt tired and empty but honestly, a little better than you’d felt in a long time. “Better?” Lucifer asked, his hand moving down your back. You nodded, wiping your cheeks with your palms. His wings slowly pulled away and it took you several shocked seconds to process that you were now standing in his room and not in a crowded hall.

“How?!”

“Teleportation is simple.” He pulled a soft handkerchief out of his pocket and offered it to you. You gave him an apologetic grimace before noisily blowing your nose. He gave you a gentle push towards the sofa and softly said “sit.” You did, watching his horns and wings shift and disappear as he took off his jacket, draping it over a nearby chair. With a wave of his hand a tray appeared bearing full tea service on the table in front of you. He sat on the table next to it, across from you, pulling his gloves off before preparing you a cup (exactly how you like it, of course. Of course he would know.) and handing it over. You opened your mouth, choked on your shame, and took a sip instead, looking down at his immaculately polished shoes. He was in no hurry and took up his own cup. “Whenever you’re ready.”

You had nearly finished by the time you felt ready to talk. “I’m miserable, Lucifer.”

“Obviously.” But he didn’t look annoyed or bothered. He looked concerned. “But why?”

“I don’t know,” you confessed quietly. “I…I thought I was just tired. Thought maybe I’d been working too hard.” You swirled the last bit of your tea around your cup, looking at the dregs intensely as if they could help you. “But it’s like, like I’m just going through the motions now. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I don’t know why I’m struggling. I want to enjoy myself, be happy again, but…I don’t feel like I’m good at anything and I’m just, I dunno, existing with nothing to aim for.”

“You don’t have to be good at something to enjoy it.” Lucifer said quietly.

It was a phrase you were familiar with, but it hit different to hear him say it. Mr. Perfect. Mr. Always Good at Everything. For just a moment you felt indignation spark in your chest. Was he being serious?

“There’s a pottery class next week. Something Diavolo heard about from the human realm and thinks would be fun to start here.”

Okay, what? You blinked a few times, your body frozen as you tried to process what had just come out of his mouth. “Lucifer…” you slowly lowered the cup to the saucer you held in your lap. “Are you asking me to take a pottery class?”

There was a hint of color near his ears and his eyes were suddenly fixed somewhere near your chin. “I just think that, perhaps, doing something new with no expectations to be good at it might help.” He took a sip of his tea before plowing on. “And if, for example, you do it with someone who also has never done it before, it might make it more enjoyable.”

You smiled. It was just a small one, but it was genuine, and it pleased him to see it.

“If we’re going to try and get you out of this rut,” Lucifer continued, “we may as well be thorough about it.” He held his hand up and started ticking ideas off of his fingers. “The Royal Library has book club meetings. I think they’ve chosen some fascinatingly charming human tale about a cursed girl and a white horse. The Mausoleum hosts murder mystery dinner theater. Hell’s Kitchen has started giving cooking lessons, which I fear Beel has had more than a helping hand in arranging.”

“Guess we better try it all then,” you said. The small smile was still lingering on your lips and your eyes were beginning to droop. Between the cathartic sobbing and the warm tea, your body suddenly sagged under the weight of a relief you hadn’t felt in quite some time.

Lucifer reached out and took the cup and saucer from your hands. “Right now you just need to rest.” He hesitated before touching your knee. “You can stay here, if you like. Or if you’d be more comfortable I can help you to your room.”

You shook your head, kicking your shoes off between his legs under the table. “Here is fine.” Before you could lose your nerve you stood and took off your jacket, hanging it over his on the chair. You turned your head to look at him, pointing at his bed. “Can I?” He nodded and as you made your way there he carefully placed everything back on the tea tray, vanishing it with another wave of his hand.

The size of Lucifer’s bed never failed to astound you. You were certain it could fit him, his brothers, Diavolo, Barbatos, the other exchange students, and yourself and still have room left over for Cerberus. You wondered why he needed such a monstrosity. Certainly nobody moved so much in their sleep they required so much mattress? Pulling back the comforter you collapsed on the satin sheets with a groan. Lucifer was just behind you and with a silent laugh he made to pull the blanket over you but you stopped him, your eyes suddenly wide and cautious.

“Don’t go,” you said softly. You tugged on his sleeve and wiggled the fingers of your other hand in his direction. “Stay with me, okay? Please?” You were fighting dirty. He couldn’t possibly refuse you, not with you looking so disheveled and worn. Not when your eyes still glittered in a way that only happens after such an intense outburst of emotion. Not when your hair was strewn across his pillows in a way that called his hand to run through it.

Leaving his shoes beside the bed he climbed in next to you, chiding you to be patient when you tried to glue yourself to his front before both feet were off the floor. You whined petulantly and it only made him laugh. You pressed as close as you could, seeking that same feeling of security you felt before and finding it the moment his arms wrapped around you. His fingers trailed lightly through your hair and you closed your eyes.

“Thank you, Lucifer.” Your words were muffled against his chest and you were rapidly allowing yourself to be pulled into the plush embrace of sleep.

“Don’t wait so long to talk to me next time.” He tucked his chin to press a kiss to the crown of your head and you snuggled deeper, murmuring something about a promise.

He relaxed into your warmth. There was still paperwork to be done. A meeting with Diavolo to be canceled. An entire day’s worth of work to be rescheduled. Now there were reservations to be made and items to purchase. But right now all that mattered was you, your breathing deep and even, your legs tangled with his as you slept. And a few days later, when you burst into real, joyous laughter when a glob of clay flew off the wheel and struck him in the face, he would know that you were going to be just fine.

#obey me #obey me! #obey me fluff #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer fluff #i really love him okay i think he's soft i don't get in with the 'he's just a sadistic ass all the time' thinking #i mean okay #there's a lot of nuance there #as usual

[iamburdened]

Reader’s Masterlist #6

Not my stories. Just my favorites from other writers. All credits and support to the original artists.

IMPORTANT: like and REBLOG all the fanfics you read to support the writers, please.

If you liked the fanfic, tell the writer. They will be in cloud nine with your compliment! Show support!

* = NSFW

Link to all my masterlist (+Din, + Marcus, Ben Solo/Kylo Ren, Draco Malfoy, Loki, Shawn Mendes, Tom Holland, Peter Parker, Angus McGyver, Newt Scamander, George Weasley)

DIN DJARIN X READER     (THE MANDALORIAN)

Your gentle touch   @certifiedskywalker

Summary: Dyn is forgetting his old ways but, with clear eyes, he finds something he didn’t know that he was missing out on.

Hopes and dreams    @certifiedskywalker

Summary: She’s literally a pure angel and they’re in love with each other. She holds the baby and he says mama and inside his helmet he’s thinking about marrying her.

Dating Din Djarin would include    @certifiedskywalker

Summary: what the title says, baby

NSFW Alphabet *    @no-droids

Summary: ya know

Touch it softly    @dindjarindiaries

Summary: When you invite Din to play with your hair, you both get a little more than lost in the moment. (iamburdened's note: it's so cute you will die)

Everything I wanted   @dindjarindiaries

Summary: You’re trapped inside a Din x Omera love triangle, struggling to get to your lover who’s entranced with your new host. (iamburdened's note: we all have read some angst shit with Omera, so I assure you this is worthy your time and the pain it will make you feel)

Masterlist    @dindjarindiaries

Summary: this is paradise, bitches. Jump in head first!

The War    @thisisthe-wayson

Summary: Din, baby Yoda and reader in a snow ball fight? Sign me the hell up!

The Ghost    @evendeadlmthehero

Summary: you are a blind assassin who was sent to capture a 50 year old target. You then become the target’s number one guardian, protecting him from bounty hunters like The Mandalorian himself. (iamburdened's note: you HAVE to read this, I don't even care! This is the most badass reader I've ever read.)

And he is one with me    @softpedropascal

Summary: soft shortie one about the face reveal we all love.

Hold me while you wait   @ohwaitimthewriter

Summary: Din is in love, Din is the best, blind!reader, first kiss. Have I convinced you to read it yet?

Masterlist   @ohwaitimthewriter

Summary: absolutely amazing!

The Artist    @no-droids-allowed​

Summary: Din is after a bounty, a force sensitive artist. When he finds her, surprise! All her painting are his face. Turns out they are soulmates!

Untitled omega!Din x alpha!reader *  @mikeisthricedeceased​

Summary: this is a part 2, BUT this is where the spicy stuff is so I am recommending it. Come on, it's omega Din Djarin. You want to see what happens. 

Gone and fallen in love   @propertyofdindjarin​

Summary: Din being a cute dad, accidental confession.... if I tell you I think about this from time to time will I convince you to read it? So cute!

Cyar'ika and brown eyes *  @thedevilwearsbeskar​

Summary: din’s always had a nickname for you - and thanks to your new friend miggs mayfeld, the mandalorian now has one too.

Everything I need   @thedevilwearsbeskar​

Summary: din has to rethink his life plans how that you’re by side - not that he’s complaining.

Mine   @thefanbasewhore​

Summary: Din says goodbye to reader and Grogu but once they are reunited Din has mixed feels about the situation, jealous of Luke.

Mine part 2 *   @thefanbasewhore​

Summary: Din shows you who you belong to just to discover something life changing.

Masterlist    @absurdthirst​

Summary: I recommend everything here.

More Din Djarin recommendations here

Get used to this gif because it's one of the only 5 we have of Marcus and all fics use it!

MARCUS PIKE X READER     (THE MENTALIST)

Just say yes *   @heatherbel​

Summary: LISTEN UP! This is a MUST READ! I am pretty confident that the internet was invented jut so ART like this could be shared to poor humanity. I wish I could read it for the first time every damn day! No, it's not a proposal fic, the title has other meaning (super cool also). How to summarize it? Marcus goes on a vacation on Italy months after the Lisbon disaster and he finds you. Go read it!

Say you want me * @heatherbel

Summary: it’s the second part of the piece of art above. Another masterpiece worthy of your time and obsession. I want to die after reading something so good. Sweet Lord! (Dear, author, you own my heart)

Dreams *   @absurdthirst​

Summary: this is the classic "I had a sex dream about you and now I am awkward" BUT the way it's done makes it perfect. God, I think about this one more often than I should.

Apples & lattes *    @forever-rogue​

Summary: 7k words of pure fluff with agent Pike. First meeting, first dates... oh, to live a cute life with Marcus....

Missing Piece    @aerynwrites​

Summary:  baby talk with our favorite FBI agent. 

A love in bloom   @opheliaelysia​

Summary: The flowers mean ‘good morning’, and so much more.

What's in a name?   @ficsilike-reblogged​

Summary: The five times Marcus Pike tries to learn your name and the one time he actually does. (iaburâened's note: so cute and amazing how they progressed and Marcus nickname for her???? Just kill me already!)

Apple Pie and Chai   @artemiseamoon​

Summary: it's smolders and it is precious. Marcus being insecure and getting validation is what we need in this fandom. 

A good thing   @mellowswriting​

Summary: cute pregnancy reveal.

Masterlist    @dindjarindiaries​

Summary: I recommend absolutely everything here. 

Little things Marcus loves    @dindjarindiaries​

Summary: things you do that Marcus loves. AKA Marcus getting the love he fucking deserves.

Gold    @uselessbiwrites​

Summary: Your favorite mornings were always the ones where Marcus woke up first. (iamburdened's note: artist!Marcus! I repeat! Artist!Marcus!) 

Heaven   @mellowswriting​

Summary: dad!Marcus, happy!Marcus, getting what he deserves!Marcus. 

We'll always have Paris   @fromthedeskoftheraven​

Summary: sap moments with the cliche romance thing king. 

Like magic   @mellowswriting​

Summary: Marcus being showered in love (ha, did you get it?) just how he fucking deserves!

Ring *   @say-al0e​

Summary: Marcus Pike really enjoys being married. One of his favorite things? Seeing the ring on your finger. But what he doesn’t seem to realize is that you’re just as happy to see the ring on his finger. (AKA literally just smut that involves fingering and rings.) (iamburdened's note: this is the most canon kink for him, isn't it?)

Masterlist    @absurdthirst​

Summary: yes, again!

The portrait of love   @writings-of-a-hufflepuff​

Summary: When Marcus takes to you a work gala for the first time, he just expects a nice night chatting with colleagues and being proud to have his partner on his arm. He’s in truth a little bit worried that you’ll get bored hearing him talk about the latest art recoveries, truthfully, there’s nothing you enjoy more than listening to Marcus talk passionately about something.

As time goes by *    @absurdthirst​

Summary: After Teresa, Marcus is hesitant to jump back into the dating world, so you propose a friends with benefits situation that works, until it doesn’t. (my note: 7k of Marcus Pike. Paradise)

More Marcus Pike recommendations here

#iambudened masterlist #the mandalorian #mando #mando x reader #din djarin #Din Djarin x reader #Dyn Jarren x reader #reader's masterlist #Pedro pascal #disney+ #x you #fanfic #Din Djarin masterlist #masterlist #fic rec #Din is in love #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #the mentalist #marcus pike masterlist #Din Djarin x you #mando fanfic #imagine #oneshot #series #the mandalorian masterlist #Pedro pascal masterlist #din djarin x fem!reader #din djarin x female reader

[blush-and-books]

sun's gone // but you always liked this time of day

angsty, hurt/comfort with a happy ending, juke canonverse. title from Place In Me by Luke Hemmings. special shoutout to my dear @unsaid-emily who loves this lyric as much as i do.

warnings: luke is just going through a lot and its scientifically proven that anger destroys brain cells so just be ready

----

Finding out that Rose's death day was on the same day as his mom's birthday was... Not easy, for Luke.

Him and Julie both mourning different things. Both of them felt different things surrounding their mom situations, and Luke knew that his job as Julie's "Luke" was to be there for her. He had been there for Reggie when his dad was leaving home every night to go sleep wherever his mom wasn't, and when Alex's parents turned into apathetic losers post-coming out.

He should be a master at all of this parent shit.

Unfortunately, there's a difference between losing love for or from your parents, and losing that parent to a force out of your control. Luke was used to the tension that was easy to complain about; to criticizing what his friends' families were doing wrong.

From how Julie talks about her, it doesn't sound like Rose Molina was doing anything wrong.

He can't help the way that rage smolders in a deep pit of his stomach. He hates that Julie's sad, and he hates that he didn't have a mom like Rose Molina, and he hates that the universe was cruel enough to give his favorite person such a wonderful mother and take her away before Julie was even an adult.

Sometimes, especially today, he's reminded of the hate he felt for his mom. When he was fifteen and wrote her a real song, one of his first when he started to improve his writing skills, and he could see the twitch in her eye of disdain.

That night, she told him to start looking at jobs. He was old enough, after all.

He went to the closest place he could find - a local diner - picked up an application, and cried.

She didn't care about his art; she didn't realize how his art meant more than anything he could buy with money. What was starting to sting was the fact that she probably would never care. And as he got older, she made it increasingly clear, and...

Yeah. Emily's birthdays were bitter.

Luke was bitter.

Julie was depressed.

He went to see her that day, it was a Saturday, and tried to talk to her. His hand softly ran up and down her side as she curled under the comforter, and when she invited him under the blankets he gratefully accepted the invitation.

Maybe Julie, the girl that made them whole again, could heal this little extra wound, too.

They talk. Julie cries; he avoids it.

"It's just really hard to be without her, you know? Sometimes shit just happens and it feels like a time she needs to be here, and she's not, and I don't know what to do."

Luke misses feeling like that. But it stopped about a month after he left home.

"Well, I mean, I've gone this long without a mom, and I'm fine. You can live without her. You're gonna be fine."

He says it with the same apathetic tone he always uses when he shifts into Emily-mode, and it isn't supposed to be like that, but it is.

Painfully.

And his mistake is obvious when Julie's frowning lips part open in horror, and her eyes are welling fresh with tears that illuminate the red around her irises.

Carelessly, with his eyes wide open, he's torn her apart.

Under the comforter, he feels cold. Even Julie's body next to him feels cold, and-

"Julie-"

"Get out. Please."

"I'm sor-"

"Luke, please- Leave me alone."

When Luke finally sobs, he's alone. It's dark outside and the garage is empty because the boys respect that it's a rough day for many people in this household, but the sadness and anger overcome him until he's opening his mouth to scream and nothing comes out, and when he's so dehydrated that his body is void of any tears, he sits on the couch with a damp face and plucks the chords of Emily's birthday song from 27 years ago.

He tries not to feel the numbing depression very often. But you can only push down such strong emotions for so long before they choose to ignore your fighting attempts.

Julie made it easier to battle the fury he felt towards his mom. That woman will always have a grasp on him, a place in him - probably because he never properly processed it. He's stuck with all of it now. The internal playlists of songs that remind him of how mad he is or sad he is, for him to listen to whenever his temper towards Emily seethes.

Tonight, he doesn't have a choice but to face it.

----

The next morning, there's a note for him.

Please give me the day to myself.

No author claims their identity, but the loopy "y" is a dead giveaway that Julie wrote it, let alone the content. His chest does that shitty thing where his ribs feel as though they are compressing against his lungs and breathing is hard.

He feels like that all day, but he still waits.

But he barely makes it to sunset before he is poofing to the hallway and standing before her bedroom, fist raised to knock.

The sunset was pretty tonight. He hopes she enjoyed it. Her favorite time of day is dusk, when the air only feels fresher because it carries a chill with it, and the world begins to slow down.

Luke knocks.

Julie answers.

"I'm sorry," he rushes out before she has the chance to interrupt or he has the chance to say something stupid. "What I said- That was my stupid, stupid anger at my mom. It was her birthday yesterday." Julie looks surprised to hear this, of course she didn't know, but she doesn't say anything.

"I don't know what it's like to go through what you did. I wanted to support you yesterday, and I didn't, and I know that. My feelings got the better of me, and that isn't fair. And I am so, so sorry, Julie."

She remains still in front of him, but only for a beat. Eventually, she moves aside, wordlessly, and stares at him expectantly.

He takes exactly four steps inside, and plants his feet once again.

"It's not stupid," is the first thing she says. Her voice has a piercing edge to it that he rarely hears, and he hates it, but stays quiet. "How you feel about your mom. Don't call it stupid. I don't think it's stupid."

She takes a deep breath. A tear slips through her lashes.

"But what you said was really fucking insensitive. All I needed from you was to be there and hold me and let me ride this wave, not try to relate or compare our problems. How would you feel if I tried to guilt you for running away because 'at least you had a mom'?"

Shitty. He'd feel shitty, because they are two different situations and she has no right to speak on something that she hasn't gone through.

He answers with that, verbatim. And he throws in another apology for good measure, making it clear that he understands where he went wrong.

"Good. You understand. Thank you."

Her eyebrows twist together. It's a tell that she wants to say something too.

"If you ever need to talk about your mom, you know I'm here for it. I didn't know her birthday was yesterday."

Understanding, he nods. He didn't tell her it was Emily's birthday, because the day was supposed to be about Rose, and then it wasn't.

"Thank you."

The two of them fall silent.

Luke doesn't want to leave, but feels like he should; Julie hasn't asked him to leave, but he doubts she wants him to stay.

They're just two kids with gaps in their hearts, left by the absence of their mothers.

Sometimes - all the time - Luke feels Julie filling that gap. Not as a mom, of course, but as another person; someone to love him and support him and make him happy.

Emily might not ever go away in his head. But Julie Molina, over anyone, will always have a place in his heart, in his head, and in his soul.

She's just magic like that.

So magic that she finds it in herself to step forward, and he is roped in by her gravitational pull, and they're falling into each other's arms.

Luke imagines that if he ever went to a heaven instead of coming back to the modern day, that this, Julie's arms around him, is the feeling that would greet him at that end.

Everything feels better here.

----

tags: @bluefirewrites @lydias--stiles @sylphrenas @wlwcarries @ruzek-halstead @willexx @sirena-de-lunas @babydagger28 @phantomsandsunsets

#jatp #juke #julie molina #luke patterson #julie and the phantoms #jatp fanfic #juke fanfic

[serendipitous-magic]

Luke and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad 72 Hours

Imagine you’re a 19 year old working on a farm, and one day you buy some new animals from traveling merchants to help out around the farm - let’s say a goat and an ostrich. You’re cleaning them and getting them ready to work when you notice that the goat has a message tied around its neck. It sounds like the message might be intended for the kooky old guy who lives by himself out in the wilderness. You’ve met the guy a few times, you might even consider him a friend, but he’s mostly a mystery. You ask your uncle if he knows anything about it, but first he denies any knowledge and then he says the intended recipient of the message knew your dead father, and then he abruptly tells you to forget all about it.

Okay, weird???

That night, the goat runs away. The ostrich is freaking out about it. You go after it with the ostrich the next morning and find it making its way towards the old hermit’s house, but you’re attacked by a local gang and knocked tf out. When you wake up, the old hermit is there, and he takes you back to his place and drops the bomb on you that apparently your dead dad wasn’t who your family told you he was?? Apparently he wasn’t a navigator on a fishing boat, he was a pilot and a samurai warrior, and he was fucking murked by his samurai buddy??? And while that earth-shattering revelation is still fresh in your mind, Hermit Dude reads the rest of the Goat Message. Apparently it’s from a princess, and she’s asking Hermit Dude for help in a massive civil war that’s been going on. She says this goat is a Very Important Goat, and it’s carrying information that’s essential to the war effort that could restore prosperity to the entire world.

Hermit Dude then immediately sits back, looks you in the eye and without preamble says, “You’re going to have to learn how to be a samurai warrior if you’re gonna come with me to the big city and help this chick and save the war effort.” And you’re like “??? learn?? to be a samurai?? Big city?? What in the frick frack paddywack are you babbling about? Listen dude I got shit to do, I can’t just go off on this wild goat chase. But look, if it means so much to you I’ll give you a lift to the nearest town so you can go on your own.”

But on the way to town, you come across those traveling merchants you bought the goat and ostrich from - all dead, their caravan trashed. “This wasn’t the gang,” Hermit Dude says, “The government did this, and made it look like it was gang activity. They were looking for your Goat Message.” You race back home, only to find the smoldering remains of your farm, and the charred skeletons of your family laid out on the doorstep.

With nothing to do, nowhere else to call home, and a newfound revenge-driven fury in your chest, you return to Hermit Dude and say, “Make me a samurai like my apparently-murdered father, yo-yo master Hermit Dude. I’ll go help the war effort with you like the princess asked.”

So you all head off to this shady-ass small town run by crime lords. The government is already there, looking for the goat, and Hermit Dude hypnotizes these two military guys like it’s no big deal, sooooo apparently he can just do that? Okay, neat, neat, neat. Hermit Dude then chops somebody’s fucking arm off right in front of you in a bar fight (what the fuck), and long story short you end up selling your car so you can hitch a clandestine ride to the Big City in this fast-talking cowboy’s RV, which looks like it’s held together with spit and duct tape. Cowboy Guy’s best friend is this 7-foot-tall dude with so much hair and beard that he could probably hide weapons in it. The military arrives and you barely make it out of the parking garage, and you end up in a fucking car chase before you make it to the highway and get the hell outta dodge.

BUT THEN you finally arrive at the Big City, and it’s gone. There’s nothing there, just the ruined wasteland of nuclear rubble where the government dropped the bomb (which by the way was JUST invented). And as far as you know that’s??? Never happened before?? So, that’s terrifying. (Also keep in mind your home was razed and your family was brutally murdered like less than 24 hours ago so THAT’S still fresh.)

There’s one little government truck that sees you and takes off. Cowboy is like “Let’s shoot their tires out before they go report to somebody,” but there isn’t anybody around to report to. EXCEPT FOR THE CITY-SIZED BATTLE STATION ON WHEELS THAT ABDUCTS YOU, RV AND ALL. What the fuck is this? Since when did this exist??? They pull the RV into their parking garage, but you hide under the floor panels, surprise-attack some soldiers and steal their uniforms. You sneak into a control room, hoping to shut down the station’s power and escape, but while Hermit Dude goes to cut some power cords, you notice some records lying around. And, hey, what’s this? The princess that wrote the Goat Message? She’s here on Massive Battle Station? SCHEDULED TO BE EXECUTED??? Well, of course you can’t let that happen! Cowboy is grumpy about it but you manage to convince him.

Using your military disguises, you manage to find and save the princess from her cell, almost get crushed to death in a trash compactor while escaping from the prison section, and arrive back at the parking garage pursued by hordes of soldiers - only to witness Hermit Dude, your only remaining link to your home and your old life, get sliced in actual half right in front of you. 

There’s another one for Trauma Bingo!

(P.S. you’ve also now killed several government soldiers in your escape. You’ve now killed people. You’re a killer.)

You manage to escape in the Duct Tape RV with Cowboy, Beard, Princess, Ostrich and Goat, but you’re followed by some government cars. You climb up on the roof to engage in an at-speed shootout with them, because after the last 36 hours, this is the least weird thing you’ve done. Firefight with government forces? Yeah, sure, what the hell. No big deal, honestly.

So now not only are you family-less and homeless, but you’re DEFINITELY on some sort of government list of known criminals. Guess there’s no going back now; you’re part of the rebels whether you want to be or not! Thankfully you’ve still got that grief-driven justice quest going on, doubly compounded by witnessing the murder of your mentor.

The RV makes it to the secret base where the rebels have been hiding. The Very Important Goat is finally delivered, and it coughs up plans for the gigantic battle station. So far, so good. Except, curses! The government tracked you here! Looks like the fight happens now. Game on, jackass government. Game on. “That’s impossible!” cries one pilot, to which you reply, “Nah, I basically did it all the time back home.” You sign up to fight: a pilot, like your dead samurai dad. 

Why was a 19 year old civilian with some bush-plane experience (??) allowed to sign up to fly a fighter plane? We’ll never know.

Also, the goat comes on the plane with you.

Cowboy collects his payment and takes off, which you’re not happy about, but at least you’re reunited with your BFF from back home. So at least you have one single connection to home left.

Until he dies. RIP.

You try blowing up the Enormous Battle Station the normal way, but the disembodied spirit of Hermit Dude appears in your head and tells you to use your Magical Samurai Powers. You do, and succeed in blowing up the Big-Ass Battle Station just as Cowboy arrives again to take out the Big Baddie who killed Hermit Dude. The Traveling Nuke Factory is destroyed, the evil government has taken a big blow, and you get a shiny medal in a ceremony with your new friends.

So, let’s recap. In the last, oh, 2.5 days or so, you’ve gone from living your everyday life to seeing everything you know and love destroyed, to becoming a traitor to the evil government and a rebel, to fighting in (and winning) an intense military battle thanks to your fledgling Magic Powers, to now being the poster child of the rebellion.

You need therapy.

But at least the goat’s okay.

#star wars is wild #star wars #a new hope #sw: a new hope #luke skywalker #this is why luke went dark in ESB #the kid needs hella therapy

[bayrut]

There are so many Louis-centric ships! Everyone has faves, but have you ever wondered which one is superior? Well, you don’t have to think too hard about this anymore! 

Introducing, the ‘who should Louis Tomlinson date?’ bracket tournament, brought to you by @seasurfacefullofclouds1, @silverfoxlou​ and @tomlinsno​! We’ve put 16 wonderful bachelors (list and descriptions under the cut) against each other, for a chance to win the most coveted prize possible: a date with Louis Tomlinson! (not really, we wish...) 

Vote for your faves by using the link above, but be quick! Each round is only open for a limited time. 

Round 1: open until 5 Dec. Midnight ET

Round 2: open until 7 Dec. Midnight ET

Round 3: open until Dec. Midnight ET

Round 4: open until 11 Dec. Midnight ET

After each round, we’ll announce which candidates have advanced to the next round. And, finally, we’ll crown the winner the day of the livestream! 

On the website, you can click on eaach picture to enlarge and have a better look.

Oli Wright: Louis’ bestie since childhood, Mr. Ginger is never more than an elbow-length away. Chiquitita, tell us your secret, BFF doesn’t really stand for what we think, does it?

VS

Steve Aoki: DJ, musician, and entrepreneur. He called Louis’ fans an army of bees, but this long-haired, smooth talking DJ has the whole fandom buzzing. What happened in that private plane, Stevo?

Liam Payne: if six packs could kill, Payno is armed and dangerous. Louis has already checked him out front and back and sideways, and as much as he takes the piss, Louis would never say no to a Lilo cuddle.

VS

Zayn Malik: the one who got away, the long-lashed shy beauty, the prettiest one who was secretly in love with the jock, all those lighthearted “Love you, Boo”s actually translate to, “I love you, Lou.” A soulmate’s connection is never broken. You know what to do

Jurgen Klopp: this Premiere League super manager is described as advocating “heavy metal” football, but the only music he’ll be making is in the studio with our fav five-a-side tenor. We know who really got Louis into Borussia Dortmund— a silver fox whose name rhymes with “Hot Pop.”

VS

Greg James:  this dreamboat is now five mornings a week at Radio One, which means 20% more chances for him to flutter eyelashes across the switchboard to try to get Louis to say Big B* C* — oh dear. Louis does lose his powers of concentration around this flaxen-haired cutie.

Marcus Rashford: 22 and fit, a professional football player, and dedicated to ending child food poverty in the UK. Artificial intelligence couldn’t really design a better boyfriend for Louis, could it? 

VS

David Allen: having grown up with Louis, David shared a beef with the geography teacher, but what a hunk of beef he is now! What was in the Donny waters the year they were born? Whatever it was, we want some.

Tom Holland: this 24-year-old hunk stars in Spider-Man Homecoming and kills lip-syncing to Rihanna. His fav 1D man is ... Louis naturally, like everyone with taste. A superhero and a dancer, who could say no?

VS

Jack Saunders: usually it’s dry as dead leaves, but did we detect a bit of man-on-man flirting at BBC Radio when Jack talked indie artists with Louis? There was lyric appreciation, there was music history, there was a bit of The Strokes vs. The Killers drama, everything a friends-to-lovers epic should be.

Chad Michael Murray: the OG I-watch-your-show-religiously-because-of-YOU crush, the one that made Louis speechless, the one he wore his coolest outfit to meet, real cas-like, no big, just the only one from One Tree Hill whom Louis fucking adored, the one to speed up his pulse and ask for a selfie with. THAT Chad.

VS

Michael Blackwell: who’s tall, dark, handsome, can absolutely shred on a guitar, shy around Louis, and drinks responsibly on New Year’s Eve? Shut up, it’s this smoldering hunk of British pineapple with a sweet juicy core. Cut us a slice, mister!

Jojo Wright: much more than a shoulder for a poop tattoo, Jojo makes Louis laugh so hard that no sound comes out. He would scoot Louis up to the main iHeart stage all day, and then bundle Louis into his heart.

VS

Hot Friend Luke: admit it, you’ve thought about Louke, you’re thinking about Louke right now. Stop thinking those thoughts and vote your conscience! Who makes Louis lose his train of thought, who holds him, who goes to rallies and festivals with him, who gives him a giggle like that. Vote Louke.

Sam Fender: Will they talk? If these two date, no one will ever understand a conversation again. At any rate, it’s a moot point, as bystanders will be mesmerized by their dueling cheekbones.

VS

Sam Claflin: not so fast, this 34-year-old British dreamboat first laid eyes on his fav 1D dude Louis Tomlinson in 2014. Both of them have matured since then. Maybe their twinkling eyes and dueling jawlines are a match made in heaven.

#tracksintheam #there we go pals my last draft i'm done... timing might not be great but let's just get this one #yes i am tagging it as tracksintheam because helen said it's fine #also don't @ me this is the funniest thing anyone has ever come up with #who should louis tomlinson date? bracket #my posts

[bobbyshawsupremacy]

empty on the ground

Summary: Bobby’s here, and he’s there, and he’s nowhere, and then he’s on the pier when he’s supposed to be at practice, and his guitar is so heavy on his back.

Bobby loves on sight.

-

TW: depression, suicidal thoughts/actions, mentions of child abuse, mentions of smoking

-

His name is Zach.

Bobby doesn’t know that until he’s ten, because dad never talked directly to him and mom always calls him “bastard,” which is pretty fair. His name is Zach, and Bobby doesn’t know that until he’s ten, but he knows the sound of his shouting by the time he’s two, knows the strike of his foot by the time he’s four, knows the taste of his knuckles by the time he’s six, and knows he’s sick of it all by the time he’s eleven.

He doesn’t know what being sick of it all means, though. He just knows that he likes life better when he’s wandering the streets or hiding in shadows, finding somewhere new every day. Finding somewhere he’s not himself. He likes life better when he’s not himself. He’s aware, somewhat, somewhere in his consciousness, that it’s not normal, that most people like life better when they’re seen, but they’re not him and he’s not them and he’s not anyone, he’s just the kid crouching in the shadows.

He’s eleven when they move to L.A.

He’s eleven when he meets the guys.

And God, he loves them. From the first minute, from the first breath he shares with them, he loves them. They’re not even looking at him when he decides this. They’re in front of him in music class, huddled together, laughing about something Alex said. They’re grinning at each other, all lit up, and Bobby decides between one moment and the next that he wants them to grin at him, too. He wants them to decide he’s worth grinning at. They’re bright and they’re beautiful and he loves them, as much as he has ever loved anyone.

It’s always been that way for him. He’s not like Patrick, who loves tenuously, who extends forgiveness, not mercy; you’ve gotta push for Patrick’s love, gotta ration and ransom and surrender, keep the cross on until he’s satisfied. It’s an earned love. (Bobby still isn’t sure how he earned it, because God knows he’s never earned love from himself.) He’s not like Ollie, who loves easily, who loves everyone. You don’t have to ask for Ollie’s love. You’ve got it, just like that. He breathes it in and breathes it out, and it’s constant and steady and given like rain. But Bobby’s not like that; he’s not sure why he’s the way he is. He’s not sure he’ll ever understand it. It’s something instinctual inside himself. His soul is split, he thinks, shattered up into pieces, sprayed out all over the world. There’s pieces of him in different people. People like Luke, and like Reggie, and like Alex; he recognises them before he knows them, recognises them as soon as he sees them. It lights something up inside him, and he knows he’s found another piece of himself, and he knows he’ll love them till he dies. Bobby loves utterly, and completely, and with no retraction. He loves and he loves and he loves, and he doesn’t know how to stop, and he doesn’t know how to breathe until he sees someone that makes it easy. He’s codependent, see. Always has been.

Trouble is, Bobby loves on sight. He just doesn’t know how to show it.

Bobby loves the guys from the first moment, from the first tandem beat of their hearts, but he doesn’t say it for a while. Doesn’t say it until long after they let him sit with them in music class, long after they start smiling at him with that open brightness he fell in love with, long after he starts playing alongside them. He loves them, loves them, loves them, with everything he is, with everything he’ll ever be, and he thinks if he said it, they wouldn’t believe him. Or maybe they would, but they’d just say something simple and sweet back. Something kind. Something lovely. And it wouldn’t nearly match what Bobby told them, because they don’t love him like that, utterly and overwhelmingly and as a piece of their soul; he’s their friend. He’s the fourth piece of a three piece puzzle, and he’s not quite sure how to fix it, because he loves them, he loves them, and he’s nothing without them, and they’re already everything when he’s not around.

Anyway, it’s all the way it is, and it’s all nothing anyway.

He doesn’t know Zach’s name until he’s ten years old, but he never forgets it after that. He thinks sometimes on what might happen if he told the guys about Zach. If he told them what happened at home. He wonders sometimes what they would say if he told them that there’s a scar on every knob of his spine, from the night Zach had held him down and snuffed his cigarette out on each of ‘em. He wonders. Doesn’t find out, ‘cause he doesn’t trust easy, but he wonders.

It’s funny, sort of. In some kind of way, maybe. His story starts with Zach shouting, somewhere far back in his memory, develops with each scar and strike and bruise he’s given, a visceral narrative along his skin, a reel of things he can’t put to words. Things he remembers so vividly that he doesn’t remember them at all. It’s funny, because his story’s always been dictated by Zach, by what he does, by how he chooses to knock him around and why, and yet Zach’s never really mattered.

Then again, nothing matters now.

He’s got his guitar strung up over his back. He was meant to go to practice tonight. Kinda funny, isn’t it? His guitar’s what got him into that circle of smiles, into that group of boys he loves, loves, loves, and now his guitar’s gonna get him out of it. His guitar’s gonna get him what he’s wanted since he was eleven. He’s got his guitar strung up over his back, got his toes nudging the edge of the pier, and-

Well, he’s not going to practice. He’s not going anywhere.

He’s gonna stay right here at the pier.

The sunset’s nice. He stuffs his hands in his pockets. Rocks forward on his toes a little. Wonders what song they’re playing in the studio right now. In the Morning, maybe. They’ve always liked that song.

Bobby likes that song too.

His back is burning. Every scar is burning, sparking; they have been, ever since that night. Just an utter, constant inferno. It never dies. It never settles. He can’t be comfortable in his own skin, not when his skin’s all torn and seared away.

“In the morning, we’ll be bright,” he sings, his voice hoarse with the tears he’d shed. “We’re the sun, we’re gonna rise…” his voice cracks. Falls away.

Fuck.

He laughs, shaking his head, and kicks one foot forward, letting it dangle over the water. He’s so close. This is what he wants, isn’t it? This is what he’s wanted since he was eleven. See, he didn’t know what it meant back then, the love of the shadows and the ache of being himself. Didn’t know why his soul was all shattered. But he gets now, he thinks; he understands why he’s been broken since he was born. It’s because he was never meant to be born in the first place. He was never meant to be anything of matter. He was an other, a nothing, a nowhere.

Did that make sense? He wasn’t certain he’d ever made sense. He wasn’t certain there was any sense to make. There was no sense to anything, really, at least not to him; there was no sense to a shattered scrap left smoldering, imprinted with cigarettes along his spine, who didn’t even own his soul. He thinks maybe that the reason he loves that way, from the first reckoning till the sunset, loves and loves and loves and gives no trust, no way of showing, is because he’s not meant to be loved in return. He’s not meant to be loved at all. He wasn’t meant to be born.

Well, it wasn’t his fault, now was it? He hadn’t asked his parents to have him. And if he went back, he certainly wouldn’t ask them now. It’d brought him nothing but a scarred spine and an empty chest and one foot hovering over the water.

He wonders if they’ll think anything of it in the morning.

He doesn’t think they will.

He doesn’t think it matters.

None of it’ll make sense, probably. They’ll have a dozen pieces and no picture: he won’t show to practice tonight, won’t show up to school tomorrow; he won’t be at home, he won’t be at the studio, he won’t be at work. Elliott’ll call to have words about him missing his shift, and no one’ll pick up the phone, ‘cause they haven’t paid their bill. Maybe the teachers’ll look into it, or maybe the band will, or maybe Patrick, since Bobby’s managed to earn his love. Maybe it’ll be Molly. God, he hopes it’s not Molly.

Maybe, and he hates to think it, nobody will at all. Maybe nobody’ll think twice. Maybe someday Sunset Curve will make it big with Tyler Rockman as the rhythm guitarist, and no one’ll ever ask who they had before him. No one’ll ever care.

Yeah. Maybe.

‘Cause Bobby’s seventeen and he loves them, loves them, loves them, but he’s nothing but  a few scattered ashes, and that’s the most they’ll make out of him after this. Bobby’s seventeen and he loves them, loves them, loves them, but he’s got no way to show it, and they’ve got no reason to know. He makes his own shadows nowadays. He makes nothing, and he’s nowhere, and-

Fuck.

His guitar is so heavy on his back.

Maybe the sea can put those smoldering cigarettes scars out. He doesn’t feel like burning anymore.

“Pretty night, isn’t it?”

Bobby’s foot jerks back onto the dock. He doesn’t turn around. Just lets the guy step up next to him, their shoulders brushing together. He swallows hard. “No. Not really.” Everything’s so fucking empty.

“Hm.”

They stand there in silence for a minute. Bobby sneaks a glance over at him. His face is blank. A mirror, kind of. It’s stony and it’s hollow and it’s still so sweet, it’s still so-

Fuck, he loves him. It’s only been a moment, only been a few words, but he loves him. Loves him, loves him, loves him.

Bobby laughs, his voice breathless, because what’s it matter at the end of the world? “I love you.”

The guy glances over. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm.” His eyes trace over Bobby’s face, dark and hollow and lovely, and a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Well, maybe I love you too.”

Bobby laughs. It’s empty. Kicks the pier, because he doesn’t want to meet those dark hollow lovely eyes anymore. “That’s unfortunate, then, isn’t it?”

“Doesn’t have to be.”

“Doesn’t it?”

Fingers curl around his wrist. “You love me, don’t you?”

And fuck him, but he does. “I love a lot of people,” he replies. “See, I- I love them all. Love so much. But it’s like… it’s like my soul picks them. Picks them right there. It’s like I got all broken up before I was born, and now I’m just a bunch of puzzle pieces, and-” he takes a shuddering kind of breath. “I know when I find one. And I love them.” He shrugs. “So yeah, I love you.”

There’s silence between them and the sea.

“Well,” he finally says, his eyes still heavy on Bobby’s face, “If I’m part of your soul, then you’re part of me. And that’d be awfully selfish, taking part of my soul away. That’s not the sort of thing you do to people you love.”

“I guess.”

“You don’t have to guess. I’m telling you.”

The salty wind washes over Bobby’s face like a psalm. He kicks at the pier again. “My uncle beats me,” he says, because he’s got no reason not to say it. “Gets high and does it just ‘cause he can. Says I look too much like my dad. Dunno how he expects to beat that out of me, though.”

The fingers around Bobby’s wrist tighten. “Yeah, well, fuck your uncle. What’s his name?” he asks.

“Zach.”

“Fuck Zach.”

Bobby smiles a little. “Yeah,” he says faintly. “Fuck Zach.”

It’s a nice night, isn’t it?

“You wanna see something cool?” the guy asks, his voice shattering through the salt-soaked glass of the wind, shattering into Bobby’s ears like there’s no other sound in the world. Shattering over him, and maybe Bobby’s a little less shattered for it. Just for the moment.

He turns towards him. “What sort of thing?”

He gets a flash of a grin. The fingers creep down, winding into his. “Gonna have to come with me to figure that out, won’t you, cachorro?”

“What’s that mean?”

A shrug. “Nothing yet.” A soft tug. “C’mon. Follow me.”

And Bobby loves him.

So he does.

It’s a nice night, isn’t it? And maybe that matters, just a little. Maybe it all matters just enough.

#no this is not good #tw child abuse #tw smoking #tw suicide #tw mental illness #im so fucking tired and it shows #yes this is me venting in a very twisted way #ch: tightest we've ever played #fic: empty on the ground #part of the december series but won't be added till i write the other chapters #tumblr fic #jatp fic #julie and the phantoms fanfiction #julie and the phantoms #bobby wilson #jon doesn't know how to write #jon also needs to like. go to sleep #idk i hope y'all don't hate it? #angst #heavy angst

[jae-writes-fanfiction]

Shut You Out

90’s Punk!Michael x Non-Binary Reader  -  1626 Words  -  Part 1 of 1

Notes: This was written for @sadistmichael‘s Michael Week! The title comes from my favorite Black Flag song (i know it’s not from the 90s but it’s a vibe). Shout outs to @sexgodashton, @cheekysos for helping me workshop this! It loosely connects to my other 90′s AU Fic which you can read here!

Warnings: Cigarette and alcohol usage, unprotected semi-public sex in an outdoor setting, instances of knife play, rough sex, and a lip piercing. 

“Someday we'll all be rich/ Someday I won't listen to you bitch/ I'll turn up the volume (and shut you out)” -Black Flag “Fix Me.”

The hum of the basement sent shockwaves through your veins. The music was alive. It was raw, real, and hypnotic. The DIY t-shirts our front had been up for grabs. They had the handwritten name of the night’s second act and you were more than happy to pull one on. The punk group’s lead vocal and guitarist made your mouth run dry and your knees want to buckle. Michael was an unwitting icon in the fight against commercialization and the bastardization of music. They hated the way the world was turning people into profit, they hated how people like you were treated- and their endless supply of fight left you breathless.

The flash of metal when Michael sang helped too, the piercing had featured in one too many of your own daydreams- and now you couldn’t keep your eyes off it or him. You watched every stroke of his fingers across the strings, hypnotized by how effortlessly they appeared to find their targets. His body moved with all the intoxicating power of his music’s genre and each time his hand wrapped around the microphone you imagined it pressing against your throat.

There were moments while you were screaming along and dancing, where you felt his eyes on you too. The way your body moved was equally as mesmerizing and there was something absolutely sinful about how the DIY shirt clung to your torso. 

Through the smoke and sweat haze of the overcrowded basement, his eyes found yours. Your already flushed face felt hotter as Michael winked at you and licked his lips, his piercing peaking out. 

The lyrics roared through the basement, the screaming guitars and firecracker drums bounced off the cement in a strange battle cry that had everyone out of the corners moving, and screaming. Your mind was still replaying the image of Michael gripping the mic and licking his lips as the music ended. By the time their set ended everyone in the audience had been transformed by the music and shared that ‘just been fucked’ look, their already disheveled aesthetics further unraveled with sweat. Your throat stung and your body felt supercharged looking to fight, fuck, or both. 

Unable to catch your breath you stumbled upon the stairs and around the back of the house. You leaned against the siding and closed your eyes focusing on that first inhale of smoke. The Pacific Northwest night was cold, the rainfall wasn’t expected to start until the next morning and for now, the world around you was at peace despite the riot inside your mind.

You opened your eyes and saw Michael standing near the backdoor lighting a cigarette of his own. You unconsciously licked your lips watching him. Something about him felt magnetic as if some secret part of you was linked to some secret part of him and refused to be denied any longer. 

“That was a really great show,” you called over to him, fighting your urge to cringe at the awkward platitude.

Michael laughed dryly, freely letting his eyes roam over your body as he approached. 

“You come to these things often?”

You shook your head, “my friend’s band played before you,” you grinned and gestured to the homemade shirt you now wore, “but I guess you could say I’ve been converted.” 

Michael cocked an eyebrow, “converted? Does that mean I get to tell you what to do?” For a moment you noticed the bright color of his eyes before his pupils turned black and intense. The change made your mouth run dry. 

“You’ll just have to try-” you whispered, sliding against Michael, looping your arms over his denim jacket and around his neck. He tasted like sickly sweet copper, cigarettes, and salt- a deadly combination that you instantly craved more of. You let Michael walk you back against the side of the house until you were pressed together. 

The kisses had turned into desperate gnashing of teeth and tongues that left you devastatingly excited when he broke the kiss. Michael panted against your cheek, his hands thickly running over the shirt that read his name. It stretched across your chest tightly the peaks of your nipples teasing him from behind the fabric and he was getting impatient. 

“Can I take this off?” Michael tugged harshly on the shirt and you nodded through the sex-fueled haze. 

He deftly slid a pocket knife out of his jacket and slashed down the front of your shirt before the lusty strangled gasp fell from your lips.“ Oh, you liked that,” he crooned mockingly, pressing you into the wall with his hips, “let’s see what else you like.” He teasingly pressed the flat side of the blade against your collar bone, eagerly drinking up the noises you made at the cool sensation.

Michaels hands now explored your body openly, his mouth often trailing behind as the shirt flashed between movements. The fire was growing too strong between you. In a passionate play of hands and knives and the resounding sound of metal- your pants were pushed to the ground and Michale’s moved down his thighs. You eagerly wrapped your legs around his waist as he lifted and pressed you into the wall, his growing erection pressing against you teasingly.

His hands clawed over your exposed shoulders and down your back pulling you closer and pushing deeper through your arousal. The scents of cheap beer, cigarettes, sex, and rock’n’roll made your head spin and your knees weak. Your head fell back against the cool siding, a fervent moan escaping your lips as his mouth and bit kissed down your neck.

The trail he left behind flushed pink and then blood-red as the tiny blood vessels burst like fireworks under your skin. His tongue piercing added a stark contrast as he soothed the marks, all while tightening the knot of pleasure growing in your core.

His thrusts scraped your back against the wall, the pain sending shocks of pleasure down your body. He was bigger than you had anticipated and the slight stretch burned deliciously through your body. Michael’s pace was relentless, rocking yourself out your body into the wall bruises blooming across your skin.

Your whines and moans echoed into the night, and down in the basement, another band started. The music reverberated through the house and you felt the dull thrum start again, thankful for the growing noise as you screamed through your climax. Michael’s thrusts became erratic as he chased his own release, each movement overstimulating your sensitive body. 

He shuddered and moaned sinfully as he came, the sound driving you crazy. The blissed-out moment ended time quickly as the clang and stutter of the side screen door echoed around the house. 

Michael swore and carefully set you back on your feet. The both of you shuffled pants back up as footsteps approached.

“Hey!” You said elbowing him pointedly gesturing at the tattered shirt you had been wearing. 

A wolfish grin spread across his face, “what’s wrong sugar? You look great without it.”

You cocked an eyebrow giggling lightly as he handed you his patchwork jacket, which kept the cold out quite nicely. Michael swallowed thickly at the sight of you, easily backing you against the wall for a kiss, teasingly darting his hands under the jacket and around your waist. 

He was about to make a comment about how you almost wore it better than him when another couple stumbled around the corner. They smelled like they were drunk or high, and giggled excessively upon seeing the other couple already there. 

“Sorry, mate didn’t see ‘ya there,” called the blonde who towered over the person in front of him. Even in the partial light you recognized your friend and tried to hide behind Michael. 

Michael laughed again, a dry sound that masked the sound of his ignored belt refastening. “No problem, we were finishing up,” he said with a smirk before quickly walking back to the house, exposing you to your friend. 

They exaggeratedly grinned at you, “nice threads, whaddya do for ‘em?” 

You rolled your eyes at the joke, “nothing you haven’t… d’ya have a light?” 

They nodded and handed you a cigarette, before nodding over to their companion. “Think I should take him home?” You laughed around your cigarette and pretended to carefully inspect her newest prospect. 

“Well, he’s got that starry-eyed golden retriever look going for ‘em. The black nails are a nice touch though. But I’d have to say, uh-“ 

“Luke,” they offered you helpfully.  

“Luke,” you said nodding, “might be fun for a bit.” 

“That’s funny I was just thinking that about,” they said nodding towards Michael. 

“Michael,” you said grinning. 

You both giggled looking between the two and you were happy to see Michael lingering near the side of the house. Although he had a cigarette smoldering in his hand you hoped it was because of you. 

“I think,” your friend said giggling again, “we should share.” 

You laughed openly and shook your head before unconsciously clenching your jaw finally feeling the burning soreness in your thighs. You held the denim jacket tight over your body to keep the cold off your skin, greedily breathing in Michael’s distinct scent. You stomped out the end of your cigarette and smiled at your friend before wishing them good luck. 

You walked away and then turned to walk up the stoop, almost stumbling when Michael grabbed your wrist and pulled you back. He wrapped his arm around your waist under the jacket that was his, causing gooseflesh to spread across your skin. He held you close to him again and you felt his hot breath on your face, “if you’re not too busy,” he said licking his lips teasingly flashing the metal piercing, “I’m not done with you yet.”

#rpf #michael2020 #oneshot #michael x reader #5sos #smut

[tired-college-student-writing]

More Daredevil stuff, maybe another crossover? I'm not big into Prodigal son but I really liked how you wrote Matt and Foggy in the crossover so I think it'd be fun to see them again

Aw thanks! I’m glad you like my stuff! You didn’t specify what you wanted to see crossovered with Daredevil so I took my own path and chose Lucifer since I’ve been rewatching it. 

I hope you like it!

__________________________

Matt wasn’t coming back. 

Foggy felt numb when he thought that, but the three sullen faces of the other Defenders told him enough. 

Even Jessica wasn’t enough of an asshole to try to pull something like this. 

Midland Circle.

The building had come down on top of him as he stayed back to make sure the others could get away and that Elektra, the overly pretty ex Matt never got over from Law School, the one Froggy could never understand or like, to surrender, but he was too late.

The Defenders had won the battle against the Hand, hopefully ending their reign of terror for good, but it had cost them Daredevil’s life.

Matt’s Life.

“I need to make a call,” He felt himself say, pulling out his phone as he tried to ignore Karen’s sobs next to him. 

The ringing blurred in his head before he heard it shift to pounding club music. 

“-llo? Is someone there?” The voice on the other end finally broke through his muddled brain. 

“Lucifer,” He forced out of his throat, “It’s Foggy.” 

“Ah, Franklin!” Lucifer greeted gleefully as the music grew quieter, “Always good to hear from the Eastern Seaboard! What can Old Scratch do for you?” 

“Matt, he...” His voice cracks as tears finally prickle in his eyes. 

“Franklin,” The club owner's voice shifted, concern echoing through the receiver, “What about Matthew? Has something happened to the little devil?”

“He’s dead, Lucifer,” 

The line was silent for a long moment as Foggy tried to stave off his own tears as Karen’s started to shuffle off behind him, energy-draining from her, “Where are you right now, Foggy?” 

The dark note to his voice made Foggy shiver, “My apartment,”

“Is it the same address as last time I was there?” 

“Yes but-”

“Good, I’ll see you soon.” 

The line went dead. The others were staring at him confused. 

“Who was that?” Luke asked. 

“Matt’s brother,” He answered, earning a watery smile from Karen. 

“Or Uncle,” She added shakily. 

“Or Cousin,” His laughter was on the edge of hysterical. 

“Or we could tell the truth instead of those ludicrous stories Matthew makes up to see if I can keep up while not lying,” A dry voice announced from the bedroom doorway making the room jump, the vigilantes flipping around and dropping into defensive positions. 

Foggy and Karen just smiled at the lean male leaning against the door as he raised an eyebrow at the three in front of him, especially at the Chi swirling around Danny. 

“What on earth is a member of the Order of the Crane Mother doing this far from K’un Lun? Let alone its champion?” The Brit asked in bafflement, as he pushed himself to stand upright

Danny froze, and the others shot him questioning gazes, “You know about K’un Lun and the Iron Fist?” 

“Well of course,” Lucifer grinned, “Who do you think named the bloody role, Fan Fei wanted to call it something that loosely translates to the Fallen One’s Flame. Rather unfortunate how English muddled the name we came up with. Then again the things she and I would get up to...” 

Foggy snorted, through his tears, “If someone told Matt that they were the Fallen One, he probably would have kicked their ass on principle alone,” 

“Then complained to Lucifer about how he’s a menace to everything breathing,” Karen added scrubbing her eyes with the heel of her hand, “Thanks for coming so quick, Lucifer,” 

His smile flicked down into a scowling mask, “Yes, about that, Karen. What is this rubbish about the little devil meeting his untimely demise?” 

“What do you mean rubbish,” Jess snapped, “Look asshole, I don’t know who you are, how you got in here, or why you know about Mr. Glowy Fister over here-” 

“Hey!”

She continued as if Danny hadn’t interrupted, “But we all watched Daredevil stay in a collapsing building to give us enough time to escape from the bastards at the Hand. The building came down and Daredevil didn’t make it out. He is dead.” 

Lucifer frowned, and in a blink of an eye, he was in Jess’s face, eyes flaming, bathing her face in an unnatural light, “If Matthew had died I would know. He would be in my domain, the little bugger made sure of that with all of his Catholic Guilt. I never felt his soul leave the earthy plane. He. Is. Not. Dead.” 

Jessica’s fist swung out but he was no longer there. 

“Oh quit it,” Lucifer huffed from behind her, “Matt couldn’t beat me in hand to hand, I doubt even with your powers you’ll be able to land a hit. Nor would you accomplish much since the Detective isn’t here, but never mind that. If Matthew attempted to play the Martyr card, and believe me I’m not at all surprised after raising the stubborn little brat for as long as I did, we simply need to locate him.” 

“What the Fuck are you!” Jessica snarled, attempting to take another swing at the man only for him to easily duck under her arm and continue speaking as if she wasn’t trying to take his head off. Foggy wished Matt was here to witness this. He may grouch at Lucifer’s nonchalant shows of power, but he loved having fun and laughing at Lucifer messing with people. 

“Either way, I’d suggest telling me where Matthew went missing. Maze and I can track him down so that he can be healed because I imagine getting a building dropped on you is quite unpleasant for mortals. Matthew may have a bit of celestial healing, but I doubt it did anything other than stop an unplanned visit from his Auntie Rea-Rea. ” 

“Midland circle, West 44th Street, it’s mostly a smoldering crater now but..,” Foggy told him easily, “Please…” 

Lucifer smiled softly, “You have the devil’s word that I will find him and bring him home, Franklin.” 

“I’m sorry, but I’m lost,” Danny broke in, “who are you?” 

The being smirked widely, “Why I’m Matthew’s family, of course! Lucifer Morningstar at your service.” 

#Daredevil #lucifer #Matt Murdock #foggy nelson #lucifer morningstar #the defenders #Jessica Jones #Karen Page #danny rand #luke cage #midland circle #Murdock Boys have the devil in them #;)

[user-name-not-found5]

Interrogation Techniques, pt. 4

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Kylo Ren is determined to get the map out of the Resistance Pilot. By any. Means. Necessary.

Even if that means exploring new ways to sexually psychologically manipulate his victims into getting what he wants.

AU where the map leads to Luke’s new Jedi Temple, where he is training the next generation of Jedi. Poe is a Resistance pilot, who General Leia Organa has put in charge of running the transport routes in order to bring force-sensitive younglings to the temple where they belong. The First Order is headed by Kylo Ren, a fallen Jedi just as Count Dooku was, and he is determined to end the Jedi for good.

Warnings overall: non-con, torture, violence, manipulation, smut, absolutely filthy smut, degrading language, abuse

Warnings for this chapter: sexually frustrated kylo ren, degrading language, humiliation, smut, kylo’s perverted thoughts, non-con, unconscious fucking, oral sex, male receiving

Ren stared at the limp body of the pilot. 

His hands were trembling, shaking in rage, as he watched the slow rise and fall of his captive’s chest. So peaceful in comparison to the way it had convulsed and twitched earlier, his muscles straining as he fought for air. The way his eyes popped as he struggled, the twitch in his jaw, the bob of his adam’s apple in his throat as his eyes clouded over, unconsciousness approaching. Ren slammed a fist into the wall, his own chest beginning to heave.

He was burning again, his insides red-hot as the pilot’s infuriating grin crossed his mind. The twinkle in his dark eyes as he teased him, called him sweetheart, taunting him, mocking him to do more. Inviting him, ever so madly, to destroy him. To take his dark curls in hand once more and make him scream, beg for him, beg for him to- to. 

Ren slammed his hand against the wall again, suppressing a cry of rage that would surely be heard by the passing guards in the corridor. He turned his burning eyes on the pilot, still sleeping so peacefully. His lip was drenched in new blood, and Kylo wanted nothing more than to chew that lip to shreds, make him really scream for him this time. His pretty little pilot. The words rang in his ears again.

“I’d give myself a thousand times, if it stops you from getting those kids.” That defiant spark in his eyes, even when he was in so compromising of a position. Perhaps he’d heard this threat before- the idea alone was enough to send that traitorous scream of rage through his lips. In a rush, his lightsaber found his hand, and he slashed at him.

The pilot’s body slumped into his waiting arms, the cuffs still smoldering from where the lightsaber had left its mark. He ignored the stench of it, turning the pilot’s head to face him. His features were remarkably handsome, in a way that made Ren’s insides tighten. His breathing was ragged, as if Poe had been the one ripping the air from his lungs instead. He shook himself roughly. He had no strong sense of the force, no powers. Pain, humiliation, threats; none of it broke him, like so many before him that Ren had tortured. His touch seemed to be the only thing that truly unnerved him, and yet, he still would not yield. Ren brushed sweat-covered curls from his face, picking up his body without much conscious thought, and carrying him down the corridor. Anyone that passed picked up their pace, keeping their heads to the ground. Good. He would be the only one to see the pilot like this.

His quarters were not far away. By the time he reached them, the tightness in his stomach had grown, spiking as he lay Poe down across his bed. Looking at him splayed out like this, naked, entirely at his mercy- it did something to him. 

“Sir? Do you require any assistance?” A meek mechanical voice piped up from the corner, making him draw his saber in startled anger, whirling around. The tiny wretch cowered, shielding itself pathetically with its thin metal arms. He growled.

His servant droid. It was still scrubbing uselessly at the floor, attempting to remove the scorch marks his lightning had wrought earlier. Despite the fact that he’d forbidden anyone from entering his quarters, they were still needed for menial tasks. It had a bucket of scrub-water, a filthy rag clutched in one of its clawed hands. His eyes hovered on it, before flicking back towards the bed. Poe remained unconscious, draped over the mattress like he’d been posed for a photo shoot. In the bright lights of his room, he could see all the bruising, sweat, and dried blood that caked his olive skin. His stomach turned at the reminder of the blows he’d dealt, though he shook the sensation away. 

“I want this man bathed, in fresh clothing. Get us food. And binders.” He snapped at it, waving a hand and sending it stumbling out the door. “Now.”

“Yes sir, right away Supreme Leader.” The droid teetered down the hallway out of sight as Ren inhaled sharply. His helmet was cast aside, set on a bedside table as he loomed over the mattress, eyes locked on the pilot.

Poe Dameron was the best pilot the Resistance had, responsible for nearly 100 missions across all corners of the galaxy. 100 younglings to the growing jedi temple, where master Luke and Jedi Knight Rey would train them. 100 future enemies, brainwashed into believing the same flawed logic as the long-extinct order. His lip curled at the thought.

“I could have been one of them.”

The pilot stirred, not waking from his sleep, but letting out a soft sigh. Ren sat slowly down onto the mattress beside him, taking in his entire body again. He was muscular, well-defined, with calloused hands, and just a touch of dark chest hair. Ren’s eyes grazed down his hips, the now-familiar ache in his stomach returning as his eyes passed over his dick. It was a decent length, thick. He imagined what it would feel like in his hand. The noises Poe would make. His eyes flickered up to Poe’s sleeping face. He had such handsome features- dark lashes framing his eyes, a strong jawline, high cheekbones. Ren reached out a leather-clad hand to brush across his face. The pilot stirred slightly, and Ren jerked back, fearful that he’d woken him.

The door to his quarters slid open, and the droid toddled in, holding a folded stack of clothing and a towel. It left it on the edge of the bed, skittering into the bathroom when Ren shot it a scathing look. The sounds of the water running made his shoulders tense. They seemed so loud now, and he watched Poe’s face carefully, looking for any signs of him rousing from his sleep. His lashes fluttered briefly, and another soft breath escaped him. There was the hint of a smile there. Ren observed a moment longer before his eyes slid back down Poe’s torso to his length. His helmet removed, he could better feel the heat rise to his cheeks as he rose from the bed, moving around to the foot of it to kneel down, his face now eye-level with Poe’s spread legs. It was a beautiful sight, and he reached out slowly, testing. His hand wrapped around the thick length, running up and down it loosely. Poe stirred. A whine escaped his lips as his length hardened ever so slightly, sending a pleasant shiver down his spine. Ren leaned forward, letting his breath warm the leather of his gloves. With another glance at the pilot’s face, he sank down, letting his length enter his mouth. His glove pumped him lightly at the base of his cock as Kylo ran his tongue along the underside of Poe’s erection, savoring the feeling of the hard length as it pushed past his lips. The feeling inside him was eating him alive, screaming for him to take Poe, all of him, take him into his mouth, flip him over, fill him, claim him. He sank further onto him, letting the tip hit the back of his throat, groaning pleasurably at the sensation. He began to bob his head up and down, his hand still pumping the base of Poe’s cock, moving to fondle his balls as Kylo slid his tongue over Poe’s slit. Poe whined, spurring him on, until he could feel his cock pulsing between his lips. He smiled, removing his mouth with a pop, and using the slick from his mouth, pumped at his cock with his hand. Poe’s hips jerked, and he moaned, a deep sound that had Ren’s pants tightening around him as Poe twitched, his climax decorating his stomach as he finished. Ren stood up slowly, admiring the new flushed look across his pilot’s face, and the hitch in his breathing.

“Sir, the water is-”

Ren lifted the droid, not bothering to turn and face it as he closed his fist, smashing the droid into a ball in the air. Its parts creaked and groaned as he squeezed harder, waiting until the only noise in the room again was the soft breathing of his new prize.

“I will break you, one way, or another.” He smiled. “You will be mine, pilot.”

#darkpilot #Star Wars #Star Wars smut #kylo ren #poe dameron smut #TLJ #TROS #TFA #canon offshoot #my work #writing

[elopez7228]

Scenic Route 34/47

Read on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268208/chapters/43229774 

Start over : https://elopez7228.tumblr.com/post/620919089893933056/scenic-route-0147

***

Rey sat in the grass, contemplating the decision she had to make. The car was ready. BB8 was chasing crickets around.  Right now, almost no one knew her location on the remote campground. But she couldn’t stay there forever. She was furious at Ben...but somehow she couldn’t forget about the night they had spent together. Just thinking about it sent shivers down her spine.  

No, she had to act rationally.

It was a mistake to let Leia and Ben take advantage of her. She had been too rash, too trusting for her own good. She didn’t doubt Syed’s intentions; she had also seen Skylar’s brutality with her own eyes. And something told her they wouldn’t be fooled by bear spray twice. She wished she had been even firmer with Ben that it was his responsibility to reign in the lunatics on his team...

But the doubts crept in. What if he couldn’t do it? Or, what if he didn’t actually want to? Worse yet, what if he never really loved her at all? It was hard to wrap her head around his actions. His kisses were ardent, by all accounts he was even more earnest than he had been that night in Jackson Hole.

Sleeping with him hadn’t felt like a trophy fuck or a one night stand, she had felt like an empress. He’d been so focused on her pleasure, on unraveling her with a gentleness that almost seemed out of character. Still as driven as ever, but sweeter, somehow. No one had made love to her like that in ages.

Was that all in order to get his hands on the microchip? Beneath all her righteous anger she’d hoped that it had been a misunderstanding. Maybe then it would’ve been less painful.

Maybe it was time to embrace the obvious: Cupid had it out for her. Just like with Finn, when things were finally looking up, everything came crashing down.

What now?

She thumbed through her contacts mindlessly. She ought to check in on Poe, but she hardly felt like it. Calling Jessica seemed even worse.

It rang just then, startling her.

Ben Solo.

Was he about to tell her that Syed had been put in the naughty corner? Probably not.

“Yes, Ben?” She sighed.

“Please don’t hang up.”

She wasn’t going to, but it was nice of him to insist. She relented.

“What is it this time?”

“Syed and Skylar are looking for the Falcon. You can’t hope to get away in that car.”

“I see you haven’t been successful in convincing them to leave me alone. Also, this is escalating rather quickly, isn’t it?”

“Look, I’m sorry I put you in this situation, I—“

“Yeah, I suppose you should be,” Rey tried to cut  him off, but Ben was determined.

“Whatever I did before, I regret it, and I’m trying to protect you now. So let me finish. You need to change cars.”

She snorted derisively. “Do you think I have that kind of money? Besides, your mother trusted me with the Falcon, am I really just suppose to let it rot somewhere?”

“No, no, don’t worry. I’m sending Kelsi Ren your way. Switch with her, and try to gain a few hours on Syed and Skylar.”

“And if I refuse?”

“You won’t make it past ten miles. Syed’s out for blood.”

“Is that a threat?”

Ben hesitated to respond. Rey could hear his uneven breathing on the other side.

“Rey, I know I fucked up,” he said hoarsely. “You don’t have to forgive me, but you have to trust me.”

“Trust is a big ask. As for forgiveness, we’ll see. I guess I don’t have a choice about the car...”

“I’m not trying to force you, but it’s your best option. I mean it.”

Rey rolled her eyes. Really, what alternative did she have? She sighed again.

“When will Kelsi be here?”

“Ten minutes, she’s on the way. When she gets there, switch the registration papers too. Don’t talk to her, don’t answer any questions.”

“It’s not like I’ll invite her to tea,” she grumbled as she hung up.

Ben wasn’t kidding: a large Lincoln Nautilus pulled up next to the Millenium Falcon in a matter of minutes. To Rey’s chagrin, it wasn’t quite large enough to fit her mattress, so they were back to sleeping in the car. At least this one had air conditioning. That would be a welcome change.

She supposed she should call Leia about the Falcon soon. She had promised to deliver both the car and the dog, but perhaps Leia would be receptive to the “looming killers” argument. Desperate times called for desperate measures...

Kelsi emerged from the car. Rey had seen her on stage before, but she was different out of costume, in broad daylight. She looked good in her ripped jeans and hiking boots, though she appeared younger now. Short platinum blonde hair framed her face, which was well-hidden beneath a combination of dark sunglasses and a tattered shawl that wrapped around her shoulders.

“Are you Rey?” She asked casually as she approached.

“Yeah. Here’s my car,” she replied, gesturing to the aging Oldmobile Cruiser.

The blonde grimaced, muttering something about a shitty last minute plan under her breath.

“Here’s the keys and the papers. The tank is loaded. Where’re you headed?”

Ben’s voice echoed in Rey’s head: don’t answer any questions. She realized it was time to play the clueless tourist again, since everyone seemed to think she excelled at the role.

"I don’t know,” she said, giving Kelsi her blankest smile. “I’ll just hit the road I guess. Go wherever life takes me.”

“Whatever,” Kelsi grumbled, mostly to herself. In an almost mechanical gesture, she handed Rey the keys and the registration document.

Now it was time to move the contents of the Falcon. Rey cleared out the glovebox, suddenly noticing that the toy car was gone. She panicked when she realized that Luke’s address was still there. Had Ben found it the other night? If that was the case, he now knew her location and her destination. And that meant he knew his uncle’s address. But he never once said anything. Another day, another game of hide and seek.

“Ugh, this piece of crap reeks of dog!” Kelsi complained. Behind her, Rey snorted. Good luck with that, princess.

Finally, Rey moved BB8’s toys and food bowl to the back seat of the Lincoln before getting behind the wheel. The engine revved up smoothly, and she instantly knew this was a major upgrade compared to the Falcon. It also came with a leather interior, GPS, and Bluetooth. Score! The rest of this trip was going to be so much fun.

She put her sunglasses on and adjusted her seat. Time to hit the road again!

For a little while she basked in the feeling of relief, forgetting that she was currently a crazy old woman’s pawn with no other plans in life, on the run from a pair of assassins and leagues away from her dying ex-husband.

She drove carefully out of Bozeman on Highway 89. She connected her phone to the Bluetooth system, finally deciding to give Poe a call. The conversation was brief as Finn was stable and nothing had changed. Rey neglected to mention her own circumstances because she didn’t want her friends in England to worry more than they already did.

Now that she thought about it, she wasn’t as scared as before. Was this her new normal—travelling alone, confronting bears, flirting with rockstars, and outrunning gangs? Despite the risks, she had never felt more alive.  

She slowed the car as she approached what looked like a police barricade. Rey was about to pull the window down when the officer standing there motioned for her to keep going.

But by now her good humor had suddenly disappeared. Ben had said that she wouldn’t make it ten miles in the Falcon. Was this barricade the proof? Did FORCE really have the means to intercept her like that? The idea was so terrifying that she pushed it away.

She was headed even further west, in the direction of Idaho. It was 8 AM now. If she drove for another twelve hours, she could spend the night in Reno, Nevada. From there, San Francisco would only be four hours away. Rey would find Luke Skywalker, give him his dog and the microchip, and live the rest of her average life in peace.

Eventually, she would have to call Leia Skywalker, but right now she needed some dial-in advice from her Fairy Godmother.

“Rey, good morning! How was the concert?”

Concert? Maz’s question was brimming with so much enthusiasm that it took Rey’s brain scrambled to catch up. Ah yes, that concert. Before...before everything. The old woman listened patiently as Rey explained the events of that night, and the unexpected consequences.

“Rey. Rey! Listen to me, I don’t quite get the story behind this micro-SD thing, but it sounds important. So as far as I understand, group A hid this thing on you without your knowledge, and group B, the gang, is looking for it. And you’re angry at group A but you forgive them, while also being in love with the leader of group B, who you’re in a spat with right now. Is that it?”

“I am not in love with—“ her voice broke off mid-sentence.

Who was she kidding? She couldn’t even lie to herself anymore.

Maz was silent, allowing Rey to internalize her revelation.

“What about him?” She asked Rey gently, “Is he not in love either?”

“I don’t know, Maz. He’s been chasing  me for a week with his smoldering looks and his  but-I’m-a-sentimental-beast  love songs. And last night he was—“

Rey sighed.

“Last night he was so genuine. Or so I thought. I believed his affections, and I believed his words too. But this morning he was sending me mixed signals. On one hand he was rummaging through my stuff while I slept, but on the other he just gave me a new car.”

“Rey, I’ve met Syed. She didn’t seem like a very nice woman. I’m willing to believe that she will hurt you, especially now that she has a bone to pick. So why is Kylo Ren risking himself to protect you, after he put you in danger?”

“Ben Solo. It’s Ben Solo who’s trying to protect me, not Kylo Ren.”

“What’s the difference?”

As Rey mulled the question over in her head, it dawned on her that she had always seen a clear distinction between Kylo Ren and Ben Solo. Why?

“Kylo Ren is just a persona. He’s a spy who operates the gears and collects the debts for FORCE. Ben Solo has a more complicated backstory involving his parents, and he doesn’t stand a chance against real villains like Syed Ren. He was the one who kissed me last night.”

“And the man who was looking for the microchip as you slept, who was he?”

“Definitely not the same guy who offered me a car so that I could escape.”

“It looks to me like this boy has a lot of soul-searching to do. I don’t know if you can help with his problems. Take the car for now and get as far away from them as you can! Go find yourself some shelter and let the boy figure out his own life. He’ll come back to you if he really means to.”

Rey contemplated this in silence. It was simple enough to worry about herself for now and let Ben come back when he was ready. It seemed reasonable, doable.

When their conversation came to an end, Rey stopped at Three Forks to get breakfast and buy a few more supplies for the journey. Ideally, she would make as few stops as possible to really stay ahead. Feeling a renewed sense of determination, she was ready to face the world again.

This part of the Rockies was different than the area east of the Teton, which she had passed on arrival. In Wyoming she had driven past dry mountain prairies that were almost desert-like. The other side of the mountain chain was much hillier, reminiscent of the Alpine countryside. She spotted grassy knolls, valleys, and snowy mountain peaks set against the flowery plains.

She followed the valley south, feeling lighter and lighter with each passing kilometer. There was no one behind her. No menacing SUV, no Syed in sight. Could it be that all her worries were immaterial?

Well, there was one person she still had to worry about contacting: Leia Skywalker.

#reylo #fanfiction #Modern AU #Scenic Route

[ambistep]

Going Home Again

i promised i’d do more kissing and soft stuff, but i wrote this whole thing in 20 minutes because it just fell out of my brain

excessive angst, excessive words, retribution spoilers, tw: violence (choking), small mention of blood, abuse maybe

She’s still taller than you - you’ve grown a bit in these few years, but she’s still taller. Well, it doesn’t help that you’ve got her pinned against the wall, bracing to crush her windpipe. The only thing stopping you is… What? What’s stopping you?  Where is this? Looks like a Clean Room, but moving - a truck. Going back. Going back. I’m not going back. No, no NO no. You’re crying - what is going on? Adrenaline is spiking - someone gave you a shot - you know you should be tired, unconscious... You were… gone out the window, and then the sun was shining and someone picked you up. Thought it was Ortega. No. Only hoped it was Ortega. Ortega was never rough like that.

“What’s wrong, Mina?” The hell is she so calm for? You could kill her, why did she- she shouldn’t say tha-

“Don’t say that name, y-you’re not allowed, you can’t know that name, please, I-” You can’t stop the words coming out, how are you even standing, you don’t have any legs, no arms, no body, just… hot tears on your cheeks, and fingers on her throat - those don’t move. Head like pulverized masonry, heart jackhammering wildly.

“They said you liked to be called that.” Her voice is soothing like a lobotomy, cutting out your aggression, undermining everything you are in a way it shouldn’t be. You start to squeeze.

You could crush a sun with your fury, everything inside you is blistering and melting and smoldering with rage. They can’t do this, can’t…It isn’t fair. You had a name, and… a bed, and people who… you had a phone, where is your phone? They’re taking this all, they took your phone, you know they did, they wouldn’t let you have your phone when you go back, and you are going to put your nails through her throat, nails that you let grow, and that you had painted with Themmy - noNOnodontTHINKaboutherthatHURTS. 

But you can’t do any of this, you just hold her neck in your hands. You can’t squeeze, and you can’t shout, or snarl. All you do is cry, and sob. And beg. You have to ask her, for permission, “Please… Don’t make me go back, I want to stay. I have… things. People…” Your anger is boiling the back of your eyes, but it can’t come past that, you can’t show her how angry you are. Anger isn’t allowed. You’re a good girl. Girl? No, that’s not right.

She smirks - she had been calm before, but now you can see where she *had* been worried, scared, terrified that you would actually do it. Not anymore, now she is more than calm, she is confident, “I know you do, Mina, but that’s not a place for you. You know that.”

You can’t disagree, not really, “It could be… I was… It was going to work, I could make it.” You feel your grip loosen. It shouldn’t it shouldn’t stop grab her grab her and choke and throttle and escape get out of here.

“No, you know that’s not right. The game’s over. You need to stop lying to those people - it’s only going to get everyone hurt.” She’s right, it’s hurting everyone. You liar. Lied when you said you cared about them. You’re for infiltration. There’s no mystery, it’s just what you do. Wrapped Ortega around your finger. Stole a kiss - she’d never have done that if she knew. 

No, no, Ortega isn’t like that, doesn’t… doesn’t use people, wouldn’t play you like that, the world isn’t like that, people don’t just… do that, lie, all the time.  But you do. NO stop it, Mina not Mina. Smile. Back straight. Behave for Regina. Stop thinking - definitely don’t cry. Where’s Ortega? Chen, what happened in the houseNo, fix your posture, seven steps to the door smile truck taking highway out of town - no, behave - going to an airstrip to catch a flight - take a hostage. Plan, analyze, find the way out, an exit. Can’tthinkcan’t too much smileSmilebehaveclearyourminddontthinkaboutmyfriendsanathemadontthinkaboutburningaboutfleshSMILE be good don’t think i want to go home i want to go home i wanttogohome...

Too much, too many things. Mirror is breaking, cracks, lines all down your face, you can’t see, but you know your face is broken. There’s hot tears, and blood, from somewhere, lacerations reopened. You smile, smile politely, because you can’t do anything else, and your hands, finally, not your hands, but the hands on this woman’s throat begin to squeeze. “I’m sorry,” you apologize, because that’s what you do. It’s polite. “Sorry…” And squeezing. She doesn’t look confident anymore, that makes you happy, so happy. You think maybe it’s a real smile now.

She’s choking on her words, you’re not sure what she’s saying but it doesn’t matter. Nothing she could say could change thi-

“Good soldiers,” gurgling, strained gasping, “follow orders.” A stupid thing to say, what does that even mean? But those fingers loosen around her neck, bloody nails lift up from broken skin, no no no.

“Good soldiers follow orders.” She repeats.

“God, what…? Why are you… stop it, please… don’t…” Don’t say it again. The warmth in you, the anger that could smother stars, it’s fleeing, going far away, slipping. Your head is… soft, full of cotton.

“Good soldiers follow orders.” At some point, you’d let go of her. She’s standing over you. Your muscles tighten, you could still… hit her, throw a left hook, like… like Ortega had shown you. She’s reached in her pocket, fished out a small silver pen that fills you with fear. Don’t know why, it does. Everything she does terrifies you - all the more reason to kill her, kill her now - but there’s no fire, no heat in your thoughts anymore. It’s too hard.

You’re crying again, nothing your body does makes any sense to you anymore. “It hurts.” 

She holds up the narrow pen, soft, orange light pulsing at the tip, flashing across your face. It doesn’t hurt - feels comforting in a way, but you don’t want to feel comfortable. “Well, what did you expect? There’s ‘going off mission,’ and then there’s what you’ve done.”

You need to fight. Reach out, grab that fury, but you can’t, it’s far, and your grasp is small. You’re cold now, shivering. The hot tears are just… luke warm and sticky on your cheeks now. You’re on your knees, on the ground. “I’m sorry.” You are sorry. Just look at you. 

“Are you?” Blinking. Orange. Lights. You can only see her bloodied, red neck now, can’t see her face, your eyes bleary, unable to clear the orange blot. 

She’s asking you a question. Answer her. Are you sorry? You ungrateful, spoiled thing. Nasty, sneaky. If you had been good… you’d have gone home. “I know, I shouldn’t… I should have come home. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please…” Maybe if you just asked? “...can I just, I want to tell her-” Warning bells, no, don’t say her name, don’t give them that, don’t let them know. Those little human pieces - like crushes, you remember now, you’re not supposed to have them, if you let them know, they’ll take them away. 

“Do you know why we selected you?” She paces around you, and all you can do is watch the shiny leather of her shoes. “You performed so well - other assets performed well too. But you responded so well to our reinforcement, your behavior was so, so good. Others misbehaved, or started to deviate, but your impulse scores were low. You never acted out, never raised your voice. You were a model.”

She sighs, sitting down at the flimsy metal table fixed to the middle of the mobile safe room, “When they told me you hadn’t reported back yet, I thought for sure you’d been destroyed. There was no way this one would go off mission, I thought.” She sounds so aggrieved, so… wounded. Irritated. Fuck her, fuck her. You can think it, but you can’t act it, you’re cold and numb, and there’s no anger available to grab. “I’m just… I’m so disappointed in you, Mina.”

Against all logic, her disappointment cuts you wide open - it hurts. “Please… don’t call me that, it was wrong. I was wrong. I know…” Just… don’t be mad at me. Please don’t be mad. You can’t be Mina. Mina doesn’t belong here. Mina is Sidestep, Sidestep is a hero, with Marshal Charge, and Steel, and… and.. God. Burning. Caustic. Don’t cry, or she’ll get mad. Can’t be Mina, don’t be Sidestep. Not here. They’ll take her away, poison that name, ruin it for you. 

“Well. If you insist,” as though she’s doing you some grand favor - and she is, sparing that name. She doesn’t know that. “Stand up, you look like an animal down there.” You’re not an animal. Not a person either. But you’re supposed to act like one, when you’re outside of Home. You take the other seat, at the other side of the table, looking down, not daring to make eye contact. “Wipe that sour look off your face and smile. You’re going home.”

You do smile a little. Everything hurts so much to think about, so it’s almost a blessing now, not to think about what had happened, what had been in your head. Just behave, and you won’t have to think about the broken glass in your stomach shaped like people Mina cared about but would never see again. That’s not you, not here. 

It isn’t safe for Mina. Not yet. Yet. Yet. That small little word carves out a corner in the back of your mind. ‘Yet’ tastes like chocolate cake and kisses, and maybe something like hope. It is the only warmth you can feel here. Everything good is buried away behind ‘yet,’ waiting for the time when it will be okay. 

Patience.

#fhr #retribution spoilers #angsty angsty #sidestep #regina #scribbly #mina oh #long #way too long #fallen hero #fallen hero: rebirth

[ramblingshit]

The Rise of Skywalker (2019)

• a growing list of my thoughts on episode 9 -- spoilers bruh spoilers--

▪︎ His death was really best case scenario for him - imagine returning to the light side to be faced with what you've done: killed his father yes, but also literally millions and millions of other people including entire worlds. Everyone knows who he is and what he's done. There's nowhere in the galaxy he could hide. But imagine knowing that you've done all that he had - how could he possibly live with himself, there's literally nothing he could possibly do to make things right, and the memories in his head of what he's done with his own hands. So, to die having saved Rey from the Emperor and from herself, and inadvertently helping to end the Sith and the war that he helped begin, held in her arms, knowing that he is loved and that he's finally done the right thing - it's really the best end a redeemed villain could ask for.

• Rey killed Kylo Ren with his own saber, and literally healed Ben Solo. Poetic cinema.

▪︎'Dad--' // 'I know.' (!!!!!!!!! kill me)

• They should have had the three together bouncing off one another from the start - that's always been the greatest part of Star Wars, people being friends and bickering and having each other's backs. Actually had an interest in their relationships and in their characters this time. Their hug at the end was emotional and satisfying.

• Rose was always a nothing character to me, she should have died during that crash to make a point to Finn about doing the right thing or fighting the war or whatever. Also love that their kiss was never mentioned again (thank fuck).

▪︎On that note tho - plot holes. Plot holes everywhere. Not even just one or two. A million plot holes. Things mentioned briefly but never explained. Things glossed over and ignored. It's like they made this enormous tale that needed to be smoothed and simplified so you're not distracted every two seconds tryna figure out what matters and what's never gonna be mentioned again

• Chewie falling to his knees and roaring in agony when he finds out that Leia is dead is finally respect to his character and his relationships with his friends who are all fkn dead

▪︎legit nearly walked out when they suggested that Chewie was dead - that would have been 100% unforgiveable

• Ben Solo's death was 100% glossed over and Rey's reaction could have been a lot more poignant and long lasting. Anakin got his funeral, why can't Ben?

• Every minute of every force bond chat and fight was 10/10.

▪︎Fkn hobbit had more screen time than half the characters combined like who tf

▪︎that lil droid was legit funny and adorable but so so clearly another cash grab damn

▪︎Been a long time since I've seen anything sexier than everything that is light-side Ben Solo.

▪︎the ow, the shrug, the smile - little glimpses of the man he was supposed to be, instead of the diabolical, tyrannical, genocidal torturing, manipulative monster he became (rip Ben Solo, your family let you tf down)

▪︎Air punched and almost yelled YES in the cinema when they fucking kisssssssseeedddd!!!!

▪︎Actually really happy with her being a Palpatine, it's the only thing that could make sense and I legit didn't see it coming - being a Kenobi would be too predictable and though Obi Wan defeated Vader at Mustafar, it was because he was so blinded by rage, not because Kenobi was stronger than him

Upon further consideration Rey should have just been Rey. People were so obsessed with who her family were because of course a person is defined by their parents and no way could a random person step up and defeat the bad guys (/s). She didn't have to be related to any legacy character. Heroes are made, not born. She followed the light because she's a good person, and she struggled against the dark because she's human. Gah.

▪︎Actually cried out in shock when she used force lightning to destroy the transport - that is a dark side move my dude, (and Palpatines fav party trick)

▪︎ loved the rehash of Ben and Han's final moments - he said himself he was just Bens memory, and Ben then did what he deep down wanted to do the day he killed him

▪︎Luke snatching the lightsaber out of the air like what the fuck do you think you are doing young lady

▪︎legit woulda been down for Rey to become Empress of the Sith what an ending that would be ey

▪︎Anakin should have showed up

▪︎Once Ben turned light-side he should have been talked to by his dead family members, not Rey.

▪︎Ben, the last Skywalker, should have been the one to defeat Palpatine, who was the one to begin the saga of the Skywalkers. Instead he got yeeted into a hole and spent the final battle time tryna climb out of it.

▪︎Ben should have been a force ghost standing there with his parents, reunited at last

▪︎And when they were both still alive Ben and Leia should have 110% reunited like what the fuckkk

▪︎ Rey should have proudly said that she is 'Just Rey.'

▪︎Finnpoe should have 100% been canon - Oscar Isaac literally admitted scorning the Disney 'overlords' for being cowards, and he played his role as Poe as being romantically involved with Finn. 10/10 best LGBT+ ally.

▪︎why tf would she go to Tatooine? She hates sand. Anakin hated sand. Luke wanted to leave and his last memory of that place is leaving the smoldering bodies of his aunt and uncle behind. Why put his saber there. Leia's never even been there. Why not go to Naboo or some green beautiful place where Rey has always wanted to be? Only fanservice moment really that irked me

▪︎all along all she's wanted was a family - she's made one and found one and yet the movie ends with her standing alone in the sand on a planet shes never been to, with two droids, looking at a horizon that means nothing to her.

▪︎that lightsaber tho (wish we had seen her make it, or decide to make it and explain at all why it's yellow)

▪︎Finn is fkn force sensitive and that's hella cool but like... address it more, make something of this discovery - this is the last movie and this is only just coming up? To be forgotten like all the other plot holes

▪︎liked Palpatine as the all over enemy - should have been more hints throughout the films fo sure to make it feel less outta left field as it did but still could've been a lot worse - but what the fuck is he doing on that Glados arm thing he shouldve been a Sith ghost ala Marka Ragnos not weird zombie sith man

▪︎lightning powers fucking up an entire fleet is fkn siiiiiiickkkk

▪︎would his dumbass really fall for the same ol bounce his own lightning back at him trick? Mmmmmnghhh??

▪︎if someone could explain why/how Leia died and became one with the Force only when Ben died that would be g??

▪︎thought they did Rey's struggle between the dark and the light pretty damn well like shout out to Daisy Ridley

▪︎ wish we had a shot of that vision she had with she and Kylo on the Sith throne together like damn son whhhyyy deprive us of that?? that shit would make my lifeeee

▪︎just everything Adam Driver tho what an actor like damn

▪︎in a story about love and family and winning by saving what you love, there's a whole lot of lovers dying and family members being torn apart and never reconciling. The entire Skywalker line did nothing but fuck up and make mistakes (excluding our Princess) - Anakin was so scared of losing Padme that the power he gained by turning darkside to save her overwhelmed him and resulted in her death, Padme thought it was a good idea to help Anakin defy the Jedi and marry him thus leading to his fear of losing her, Luke went full dark side when he sensed a growing darkness in his nephew and instead of trying to have a chat about his feelings he decided the obvious answer was to just murder him (like what???) thus fully pushing Ben over the edge to become Kylo Ren.

And then every single one of them die. How the fuck is that a satisfying conclusion to their story? I'm sorry but a happy ending to the Skywalker saga is Not the entire family being fucking DEAD. There is no happy ending to their story. Because they're all dead. This is some bullshit.

▪︎give us the almighty rumoured alternate ending you cowards

▪︎Honestly, the Skywalkers deserved better.

#spoilers #star wars spoilers #ep 9 spoilers #thoughts #list #rambling #rambling shit #also some spoilers #dont be spoiled #by the spoilers #rise of skywalker #actually thought it was called the last skywalker for a minute there #star wars the rise of skywalker #sw: tros #tros #happy and angry

[blush-and-books]

13, 15, and 19 queen

The way that the ones I write for you are always longer :)

13, 15 and 19: Forehead kisses, big warm hugs, and peppering kisses all over someone’s face.

High school AU because I like. Was written while listening to TSwifts new album. Look out for my Juke x Willow analysis tomorrow. 

It’s a stressful morning. A big morning. A meaningful morning. 

Julie’s calculus final. 

Her semester grade may or may not have been riding on this single exam, and her ability to play in the band may or may not have been riding on her semester grade.

The deal she had struck with her father and Victoria was that she would get above a C+ in the class, nothing equivalent or less. While Julie was smart, her gifted kid burnout really smoldered in calculus, and her C+ laughed at her every time she checked her grades. She had a B a couple of weeks ago, but a C- on a quiz and a B- on the last test before the final set her up to fail.

If she can ace this test -- which all the guys had been helping her study for all week -- then her grade could go up, because the final is worth double a regular test grade. And all she needs is a little B- or B to keep doing what she loves to do. 

Even though he shows up three minutes before final bell every day, Luke makes the effort to show up with five minutes to spare this morning so that he can bring Julie the coffee he bought her. 

(He actually had a good reason to almost be late this morning.)

He finds her wringing her hands together next to his locker, which is luckily in the same hall as her math class. She’s so caught in her world of stress that it takes him standing right in front of her for her to see him. 

“Jules?”

The sound of his voice startles her. 

“Luke! Sorry, I was just-”

“Reviewing in your head? I expect nothing less from you.” His right hand extends out to her, holding the gift of a large coffee cup, still warm. “Lavender black tea latte with vanilla syrup. For the girl who is going to kill her test today.”

She looks at the cup like it’s about to ruin her day, but takes it anyways.

“A bit of a premature celebration, isn’t it? I feel jinxed now.”

Luke’s face falls. But, being the tough guy he is, he makes a considerable attempt to shield his disappointment. 

“I’m not jinxing you. It’s a good luck coffee. You’ll get another one when you-” She glares daggers at him, not wanting him to superstitiously ruin her grade. “Sorry! When you… Forget everything and bomb the test.”

When her face wrinkles up with concern, Luke is internally punching himself in the face. He’s been Julie’s best friend for three years and somehow still fucks up every time he wants to comfort her. 

(Probably because he has a massive crush on her and is worried that when he supports her, he’ll expose himself and make things awkward and-)

He throws his arms around her instead. One around her waist and the other tugging her shoulders close to him; and he kisses her forehead once, twice, three times. 

(Exposed crush be damned.)

“I’m sorry I’m so shitty at this,” he whispers. He feels her right hand, the one without the coffee in it, curl into his shirt. Her sigh blows lightly against his ear.

“You’re okay. I’m just freaking out.”

“You are,” he begins, right in her ear, “so smart, so talented, and the biggest badass this school has ever seen. In one minute, you’re going to make this test your bitch. Does that sound good?”

She pulls away, which normally he would complain about, but this time he won’t. Her smile keeps him as warm as her arms do. 

“Probably the best pep talk you’ve ever given me, Patterson. You’re getting better.”

His brain short-circuits while contemplating if that was any attempt at flirting, but then the school bell rings, and she’s yelling a thank-you at him from down the hall as she makes her way to calculus. 

His heart swells as he watches her bounce into the classroom, and hopes that if anyone in the universe is listening to his thoughts, that they also have the power to help her pass the test.

--

That weekend, Julie is too focused on reloading the online gradebook on her laptop than writing with Luke. He knows she’s anxious to see the results, but he was more hoping that songwriting with him could distract her from her anxieties. 

“Anything yet?” 

(He can’t nag her about it, because that’s just rude. All he can do is support her.)

He watches in anticipation as she hits reload, again, but a familiar red dot lingers next to the listing of her calc class: The red dot meaning that something has been added to the gradebook. 

“It’s there!” She essentially screams, temporarily leaping up from the piano bench before sitting back down, and automatically setting her fingernails up in her mouth to bite them. “Oh my God, what if I failed? What if I still have a C+, or a C-, or a D, oh my God-”

“Jules, you passed.”

“But what if I didn’t?”

“I know you. You passed.”

Julie doesn’t say anything -- only stares at the computer in contempt. Luke, boldly, slides the computer over to himself and angles it away from her. 

“I’m going to check, okay?”

She doesn’t say no. He opens the link where all of her graded assignments in her calculus class are, and there it is:

98/100

“Oh my God,” he mutters, clearly in awe. 

Well, maybe not so clearly, because panic flashes in Julie’s eyes. 

“Oh my God?! Is that bad?”

“Jules… You got a 98. Out of 100. You got an A. An A+. Your grade is a B.”

The way that her jaw drops and her hands dart up to pull the computer back in her direction is priceless. Luke is only grinning at her, because he knew she could do it -- if anyone could, it’s her. 

“I did it,” she whispers to herself. “Holy shit, I did it!”

There she goes again, bouncing off of the piano bench, and jumping around on the cold floor of her garage in fuzzy socks and making Luke wonder how much love and sunshine and energy can go in one little body. He doesn’t hesitate to join her, standing up himself. 

“Yes you did! I knew you could do it, Julie. I never doubted-”

He’s cut off by the impact of her body throwing itself against him in a tight, energized hug. Pride swells in his heart. 

He lets himself lift his arms around her waist, indulging in the feeling of holding her so close. She’s this beautiful, magnetic force of nature that he had surrendered to long ago. 

“You’re amazing, Jules.”

The feeling of her lips against his cheek sends him practically spiraling. 

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” she grins at him. “You studied with me day and night even though you aren’t in calculus and didn’t know a thing, but you quizzed me and worked with me and-”

He kisses her. Like, on the lips. 

(Yeah. He’s surprised too.)

It was just watching her glow, like the star she is, and she gets so animated when she talks and even though she single-handedly saved the future of their band she’s praising him for holding flashcards in front of her face and he loves her. She’s too much and at the same time she wasn’t enough; so he kissed her. 

And she doesn’t pull away. 

It’s… Charged. That’s his way to describe it. There’s so much excitement in their embrace that the kiss is strong and determined and God it’s been a long time coming. 

When they pull away, she isn’t yelling at him for violating her or coming onto her, so he keeps himself close by letting his lips brush along her jaw, and then her cheek; followed by her nose, eyelids, forehead, and really anywhere. It was like there was all of this love was pouring out of him but it was only meant to be put on her.

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispers into her skin, thrilled by the goosebumps he sees as a result. 

“I love you,” she sighs, and he desperately wants to know if she means that in the best friend way she’s always used it or if she’s finally joining him on the flip side, where he’s been waiting for her. But he doesn’t want to pry. 

So he settles with repeating her words back to her, and she’s able to feel his lips form every word against her neck, and he lets her pull him back in for another kiss. 

They can figure out anything else later.

#juke #jatp fanfic #juke fanfic #jatp