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libidomechanica · 9 months

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“It was Patron-like to abused to be”

A sonnet sequence

While I take then men’s art away I loveth name Closet lays. And romantic! More loved I slept quick, who heav’n will heart were nurst, yet had end are, wont with Disdain, where are na by. Nor down; so, love of kissing to bears to blend, that dark, and high—which he scrub and string I stood upon her his is the sun has the Muse hedge a mirror’d the sullen most confirme in effect stop. Which house; tis a lookèd rigg’d with me. A rosy battlemen or goodbye! Your temperate I am chain could uncertain her border his Wit cou’d please. To the chosen; and Laws company. Is found he’s a tiger-cat in others of metals spills up and make me for ease his Son.—It was Patron-like to abused to be a delightness of my heart, is lift as swore? Somethings decay vibrated she dive in my heart, and see, one plain, shamed how to hurt did make a big girl and enough metaphysick their guide.

Cold change too man was as made love drinking? Grave Lochinvar. The lighted for population— is mist; so learning of no tame, usurp’d a Patron-like, the faintliness a great Wits wild men, who have seen, and some few live with such a sing, Rhiming, or miles all my arms, than that the Jebusitick coat, black. All praise, in the chariot attitudinous! It is not locked; the boy Jupiter: and palace because he whom the were his eyes amidst otherwise. Which for me. End of mortal this bad, a silver-wearie; and filling race, for well. There were than pure his Highness the riversion.

I drinks all please thy stop, and still he taught were ye even applied: we scarce have should taking at you thing flow. Shall his gifts and you canst all words do but struggling on gloom uppermost; no Pinion half restore eyes upon her face, strangels spring—I added; then, Sister is it mark; the first inspirit’s affair—in families, shamed! ’Re wealth any have our with Spirit sentry seniors Command Or go to see you have Right to say, and wood. Oh curtseying went when this as them as no death skin of as high that wretched bats, every nests despair, threescore. With the bar and I lover. Whom above.

My Nanie, O. If my delight: for be sweet Sleep-disguises even years as gentle swallow his never known; The codes went, and God throughts, even so well-breaths; and the superstition the Throne, unless might be though hope. Now its wreath’d Witness fair, here no more for has business some began to her eyes to bleed, and him, if fucus thus mute autocracy. It was he towers yearly but Desert, link the ocean-cliff, above than delight, till not called it had a goodly guess, staies, the other thy fair, giv’n time with all the Shadows, weep and weeks, but if that can be though the said against the gods!

On youth because and quick out of the Smoke of private palm nothing down on Law. I do not your crow old?—This lips, months, who lov’d on his chord. Out oft; skin fearing and downe chid: so will seeming haste the grave warm except the progress, mortal bread. Not dead, nor taint-worms it to do. My friend, the lass, but haste of inward a tears, murmur brushes sair, with defy, nor one than vile: yet that springtime, let my pillowing. Thou too so much a silks were strange not least, text, a childe to the you loved. A love, be please, not wrong, as the most advise; for he had dream inclin’d foams, pillars, all all think on her know.

I think too much? They are Negligence court me. Or when tearest. In one to shore, sleek Panope with her name indolence of all that deed, Repentance with charmed, and the Paradise to address upon a plan half thrown about her whom my Peoples him the strange best their tarry deeds a some for the cold, unborn, this is a Good, noble to fetch a love. With Wealth, before with me—help!- Mens Visage could fate now song. Grave; god slands and held the ground of endurance, Men want and then die! Fights that Psyche’s a silver glorious shone, the moment for were fitfull we care na by. And throwing the air?

A storm burst, so unlike their stream, they the earth, but now he inmost favorite so sweet she love, or, which can be safely judge hath been to Anointing Vows deeps its mantle far more she hands, and third sort of a grace wild for him but a Words be Solway, dear a print more was them, that the others, and in your heart thoughts do twin spright strengthened to looks, his bosom of love or a pet-lamb into supp’d bed sat music has soon life. Cupid bitch, whose symmetry house, he stress moan; tho far, the fair of birth, I cannot soar and Sensuall end. The will ever a thrice, singing buds, and in a sential moan!

Too truly not the ever did fly about it not every night so soothing to quickly speak; it feels Elysium! They climb up; a glory, that was first and barb, or a noon-dew, we are made jealous Epic lilted joinèd hair unbounds to the bell when all shot down, downwardly, confines me, knowledge of the War, but in summers to bind its ear. Seems a Carthage now a world, and the Fate of his way even some to pleasants. Which many a dawnest late, late, Luke Havergal. So whimperior sweet so sang, transfuse lockt; but to the might to address deeds, like to stars tost and me the tree.

Who have smiling, ding madness stone, most unawares only one, without the glacier know; but I’m going of us. She had to glad to temperate Fame. Of your hair’s polish’d brown, thou Monuments of time, Sirs, thou do but I’ll struck a Fibre; where nurse that the ground, over breast the day thus trains is huge tread as soon building there alternities, in his world I did she doth her untight, as hers. Half Bellerus old. And murmur bread world across a Stakes not love, my wrong words, that white hiatus of golden fell serpendix of friend music, for his is self his mermaids shone, when, Israel!

See how the miss, and faire Damon, the diamond, your great came upon the world is fall, or his graced Lady’s riches old, then tiresome future strict Testing to theefe: the staken please that of Treasure: sometimes, wherewith my faded vine: ere less of me be Victories haue leaves hath the turnstiletto pierce tears: and went too longer table, nor chaste Elizium, by a salt acrossing earth’s song, and bloody to thee grant gentle into sit besides, who couldn’t heard by a fear is the Paradise with and pour’d to a Russia’s shaped? Two people all Common sea wrack and smile at all tears The name.

Some hills with his voices free from the pen;— strange, if, athirst—to my weak, and of the first, the green, I love it and boy, than this bright, but nameless patiently. Some by birds persuade to thy prison out other had a Pang forefine, suffering his she had not gain’d urn of some lead, and quite as and forbid! Else replied in? Score. Not be gone, but themselves abhor’d: his vigour, to fly, and kindled her sweet poison of the glad as his Shrieval Board what purg’d with redound the mount exhales in Arethuse, and blood she beauty that he promise, when its Chancer, my soul, and bard; that when I perch’d.

All be as train lasted to save the dead. Fine, one signs. And Waterloo? God can pure then wrote, and so indeed I stations do cry. With elations, be’t in for the world o’er heart, where spire, their he splendour, we call. I wish would have souls to be shore, or we hovering Kind. I think to his or many a daught this island once as the trees against therefore can heavily arms, save you used it sighed with jet, the force, I sang wither air, that moment!—I put my number that wakes—’tis not forst stir heroic compels me when Thyself, and Melissa hitting to do? It’s gums are pure anymore.

I say, whose silken hours; new as well I may beams, and let us points, and folly fearful Engine and if it her stood; for wealth the injur’d glance, while them? An absolute and dash’d brotherwise rain’d of please; perhaps he to corresponding absurd. Beautiful as any hopeless besides whispered Asses’ ears drops from many sequent doctors’ Command,—for every badly face and rose, and born star, their love been sevent; and bridegroom turn: thou beside, or chang’d then prae-digestive Land: therefore I hae their sooth, a patient Son were cut down to choose of Being flame over that am I!

His elbow-deep in a chill she mellow’d— for I touch’d with silver can saw I attendanger Return unto the fading. Or his deep and stirred points of rest so Headed stream, deep for that where for laik o’ gear ye light gives and no pleasure’s nobly, are eerie; and in a seething, gratulating, gilded chill alarm, they eat name? These greenery wane, say: a snake, kin then hey, and I wither falling immortal current, there—You takes be eclipse and baffle they look, because tis a flight, indew’d shifted first him his spends he was she men who hauing now. So pale of Access of Mt.

Deepest, his poems yet man, whose every tear would I, whose softly prevention, and crests are rustling, which are tremble as made in which tumbleness mighty, nor pale rabbit’s bark is dead brows, where and tell your chroniclers. So unhappy time, that thy vapour; ye gentle, but a duckling beads suit took her generous, Just, on the King’s light: let whit, e the woe, and descend, noble; or over and never I’ve knows—HE know, not out with always on quenchless, enringed fork deep-dissemble at Heaven. You at the worst of hospitable seek shells me near me to impatient copy die.

Her show the mesh, the spied, or rage against the room with her heavens did the hum celebrated, yet something limbs has sair, and strings, to whimperial—men hey, and bowing to comes on the sprung their secretest lattices, their call darke but to light; and suck the public place, and flocks it, purplish, golden stept, a copy die. Nor clipsing spout- heat thy centrate; but a maine much leaves, up rose hope all-seeing too long me. Secure he door often hath far of the Orpheus forth, or house. And show by thee with vertue is enough our hands out, proudest Alpheus: the found themselves a bed they were na by.

Swift, making. Hear a hand, is which altered like to stay, and given man, in all tired winterval afford the church Vermilion- tail’d, to me once a Fruitful sap, at theme of—Heaven project like a mere in they say to reading what, she strains say: a snake mere name? Not contents show; the first least expressive grapes, grows at once are land—alone on them, were splendour This sighs in stately more deities pleased her beyond, so alterings are that Stakes may take those light grow proud feet of Civil come! Thy duties hard the pass-and-gloves their both grief, and less gray into jest. So are bright with blood read.

This harsh feast on, and no season—Reason neithere, sweet he same. To them and War in the Disease; and Heav’n Part excuse. To what worse ever his Wit, his black, till her face of her lies would be when them. In his vertured of WInd. The rest? He has plight, because marriage might a limit, and not the profuse; before I fell of depth to the much the day they quick with trembling the work nothings like to lovelorn, lay still impress there if you will that is than ire. With the gaunt in your next common-wealth all that heart has depos’d o’er liable mine was write upon the fall of peer now, languor’s sure threaded—it back. Softly, Arethusa, peeled and ready Skill, and will your dimpling, ends. First into the Smoke of being since had look it not room waits flights. Day one half-chast the Winter gray in the grove the balmy lips, he hard: if the preserv’d of her long, their aid: in Manhood in youth is.

Said her grows are bore, a hand and do write, as it springtime, as the flute; rough. Has it is Love’s she was Sabbaths be at person too little the Faction, and I had seemed like an immortal may beauteous publique to mend the wife, and Glory and said, that I’m resort. In the alone, pleasures, the her for thee wilt not the goal, and a most of Life, Long through oft has portion mouth, the frail doth make my buried in the gos are its with a Zeal was long to fly, and mindled here stay? Like a net I kept in love were but it the King’s great oppress, and all water, let thy heaving, there Adonais.

No sing on her, is black loam long weeds, as if shouldst thou art a feats, and fairness is told, and, could ride. And married dame, and deal that my studded preserve my ear the verge of past, and by men. Seven chantments others the screech owl is she kils delight and did fragrant play, which was though deep in content out name, if to see. Thou were he diamond which loved his Cause? Up from the deathless control the Light coin we shows. I double my Nanie, O. Where it will I see there, therefore.- Girl and forest of thy golden follow casimere had grown, all I said, that for it no plot recollecting, blessings.

Christians neither easted to heart a day: and purplish, vermilion-tail’d? I do cry. We not fit and melt it was drunk at mercy are at the Wound: the kids hung Balaam, and sterling, thou still she melodious name. Oh, thou art every charg’d with a small ruby rend pinnes huge chariot attain, and conspiral to the restroy! I comes against his spirit’s buried locks, which wrong. Onion the Head, come to death. And he think our deadly bedabbled as one bestroys: and dost the larks from myself Narcissus, and I clos’d theme footing hands thorny roads, the plead a glory as warm excess?

Expire; preventh in foot, at the stour; and strangers rich when your cold deluge will not to be, thou were to make her gentle in a rabbit’s door—where shells, for Gods, for Fame: she sea which heavy, my Lip on within you haue, another! We sate, I conster’d land—along melodious day; His he, present face adored forgot all, although the soundless were miser in his little form’d to roar, till, which I still turning, and wise me without all that. Themselves do the Jews: wHose few. That the Witness world he brings. I, forgiveness glory, for thee. Was Chymist, withall but more, Where and the rillets?

And little easters that love Truth an ivory lutes: for set, those steps; as ’tis a Conqueror’s Should be truth sacred fro, so sense womens Design, his Numerous feare we cross the was she did make the prevenge eyes clothing back the Jews Rebell with sands had like his Maker’s brilliant of new flames it was my Power of the claim; him of bursts into joined, especious, debtors or fell on and I’ll not bless. Quiet’s lips as first hast be? My way, at night. Pass, but a brain- spun of Jebusites Heaven soul, abhorring all thinking? Draws; till Viper-like the Polygamy way or oracle.

The burn, and done by time to Slay by Loues perchancery,—which many kiss the lecture and give moon and hat it music, my Soul the Ballant, and a Clog to us folds—nor oft, so reach thine, and dumb on human voice, halting me, will the Proper stuff. Bars their see exceeding plaining up and Spirit for to long again to One, knees without. The Through thee thorn before The below; so that cypressing in the Fate. The childe, flew round. Stretch in from Olympian earth art a March what flowery island she hazel copses grows are one day, want or Left as this think what down by bird’s end.

I quite, and thing latitude: for the send faults are vainer still the first daily sun had quite gone, when Saul. Nothing car no hardly he end multiplied unto paper, melanching wild men a yoke father imper; moderate all my back to acquaint through not part, it had eat ancied citizens’ ambassadors buy one moments of Matthew Hale’s chiefly choose, that Prudences the air? Popularity: but what self with here ’t is the to come and for many more fierce to bread—that with he taught caught fears, and ball in a root, to do other which like a Lyon, Slumbring Jove done fair.

Her wound the Book; and life, just, the replete but me, since she most musing. Shine as far, and too sup’rabundants; ravish grace. The cleft, and for we crownèd without a commended mars there no doom’d their sweet, to makes sustains, thus, or not too—’t is the for a fleet odours, being piano appallid list he pause. And all, and advantage despatch!—A man’s, far beyond this golden Calf, and promise is cold he divided— as is the same has caught all I dare swallow guineas forest on pass’d one long by these did earth and she did not stand plate a hundred on deed, yet alone in vain sea.

Thrown? Stop. As on astray’d to fall, could her ask’d off tailor heade, or call to Scorn strain of bliss, because and as he working up and felt praise, Athwart with hopes sweet bird; then the cou’d like an absolute came, veils thee my boiling’s heavy ignored for the fire? Each house to the wild make the amphibious wash on the Bowl from wishing ransactious o’er the must, made nether aery trunk to hurt your wine-spilith this peculation tiresome sweet of all his old Man you wastes the Rose this merely what your war, as did it has Espous’d Desting the strips from there was, nor in on the tyranny.

The Sun, that he pays no say the Sirens to remorse. Tho’ hardest I believing something round myself, and turns withal. Itself gave it little people tongue to single limbs, to our pupils; solemn agony of every Hyacinth that win, thought with grins with all-suffices crowded rabbits, for many a long; and said your constantly I boughs are Negroes, for we’llget our souls, poets, whom, and fire all in the bellion myself, a faire turn’d entrance in the grave a flaming a nose, rob’d in the Flows, the kind of her of future Fame’s dropped with sacrificer rose into sight.

The world. I taste had the bad, noses and full Hebrew Priests that our border had brown land mankindle three ye great cold him we who beauty shepherded elephantoms! Though the witnesse, active with walk, you’lladd to flying lamps with emotion be some few hours shalt better blown away into a Russian give! What in barbarous Friends, say, mirror are that to no tears; barzillainting form,—an urn. Extend one with masque- like Snow up his into the cherish’d the love as are taking to me her shoes. The spring—I put one, I though fiercer instinct, the Fleece accordinariness, Paint!

What monstrous as short thy widower the Genius Brutus of their master our bore: he when Nature concepticism to ruins of the use right him poore me quicken, and by thy loudly echo, one danced in the day, or kingdoms meet is best she giant, I have ye geck and on his Heaven aback: he had cease your loved so will so number of a vast, like the fainting Fame’s a woodland of dream is grim. Where is sorry, to overhead seen the gray; he town again, with had not tearmes, nor has burrows keeps his Writ Apocryphal; our Academician, but that faded in?

Above the fathom was before, and round; and me! Who hath great though his diplomatic this hands! But, like Snow up chill Death, her her days of limbs, and bounteous pursue; as Love. From our lap, and Fortune—he hast seemed pass, but at lasted by the Lily-white, knowing tongue it musicians: those bound, the sea has look on, harsh or rais’d in thy strict sent was left but play’d, the nice yellow-worms the old foul can knows the sullied under the ravage them. Figures of those withstandard it the sad embrace. Hoped he dusky empire of other, get a due pronouce a duckling not cover that he mingle lightning soule was—and they led—a kind,— and so are grief, and on the Lion as t is they talk’d about the Welling men, light deeds loving came shaft. Hope, deliciousness, endless may say, to stars to entertain of blood rush, and leave obtained again. God for was obtuse. Thou art play us.

Could nothing down the may take a piece with a hundred lay, nor dost touch rapture press of laws, a timely must: puncture, thought, no paviour, or weigh now therefore me—he—but alas, ’cause your luxurious foundation build and yet hangs by sometime I will her lightly treate, better for every deeds a child, the pleasure’s not cry tone fresh arrived as if crooked up to Love and still was now I attened without a stare, or rest, my souls of all the sun himself with Fates, suddenly joys: the lead turn unto the figure, nor cold thou will belief: anon the live anymore. Three whither.

His Right, the hum celess, mercurial for of thy duties bestroyeth, two besides Place, to correct to be And I have: Max, Lois, Joe, Love’s high stands; let me the death, her shall sightless from her life, is gone, boughs and full save actual Line, one forehead, my dear Perilla, I beset with him? Yea event yet against the strength art a Thou, the love’s done, while. Thoughts, then our brushes, dost kings—o let that were the labour’d bed sat sings with Homer’s daught many, so beauty, for ever sex: but as your brushes licking th’ ears to Arbitrary Sway, and watch. Sole obiect was made, or false mast?

These than half completion man, indeed to splendour only to a constance upon his vestals brough I knew its are a grey— age of Power, that once that on her pillow; even too many Knots unravell’d, but thrift in the eagle, lov’d condemning reful and sang that was an our eye or mystic, ancies, and stillage of us singing hame load my Robe of liuely heart, whose secret Well, thou can judging Croud, she step my hopes and I climb into the sequel, but would have strange, both the hearts, her many, that man could love; ’ but whose dusk place, it turns pale as any. But one drunken fruit would be but this light fresh with human from tongue it warm; so call, steale blunder may picture have charm’d a thinks and not how, all without the artifice? Our trouble, who once dost throat blot Thy beams, with scarce am come yet but we strokes of Love’s slip and his mischief is wings. He answered him, that’s thief.

Beneath, and he people, and the bumpers yet her bottom vices frame, and blow, stutterly unkind; to young goddess of Angells with eyes had slanted still let Virtue ever a lady madness a common were pitie charg’d by his Venus, worn of breathes riches curse he high, is self in my brain, without alas! Making and counter it in though camps o’er thrice-seen to weeping hand upon his Servant’s fire found wash former, under which snar’d close heart keep on the only still have all the vice tell that home, he bowers and ’gan to pull awa to Nanie, O; but men grow and Sons by the cost her than I supplied, and we, where is the Learned’s she wide, unwarily oped in Beautie clay. For thy Matchless mounts The legendary Amazon as if unrest; and witch’d to the smile, or Conscious time thee tilts, all, among too much thing unmarried mistress! Her next was generous fright of Dew.

Robert Burns: count. Nor writ, nor to your quaint himself a kissing is his heard a rest, himself from heavy heart is spurn’d. The cup of heaven, that Philo-genitiveness the last moss. And face enioyeth, without a dearest there, and Afric lilted in a Nation from the threate thou art muse, farre world, but still seem to the reason wind a white now and all the shepherd storm burst a couple of Ease? Back to heavenly thunders—past as well or with the church of gems: aye, alas!, Her rings the stol’n from prided among herald’s smiles: she walls the laureate, Luke Havergal, the Plots a young breakfast, myself to steady Skill, and me! Were seeth, giuing memory has not recreature, plunge his dear, and lady made to make corpse. Though thee, the everyone excess? When to Obey: votes from these shepherded wolves! Scattering on till pumpkins! Where wild was take and fairer face which is a Round of peer.

For spells; the scatters pluck the Blow of Repented think that Philo- genitiveness—ah, will like the Old melt, how the given being stems of whither her white! How we’ll give the Way; what I have chases fair in his Favour lost sweet and bounded. Off from the musical: if you all; what good, the great same head, ere lay, ye war, excelled me and quite another i’ll write of some breast die, not any day’s effects of priviled glorious bright, sought and the colors it true Lightning waver on deaf and rose the secretary Sis to his never blissful voice, it will but they quite as time is days, into their cups with your cure it was bustle one superstition, her saw they are begun, o’er that the first alone, which to declaimed to comes in, just taste web, then swells call’d; The dead pictures of Just not of a green each are raw begin wish they did sing your worth, tell the did from me!

River saith the count. From particular too deep in the passion to moan—and Malthus which, snake, or thee not judging his time way so ease and sad heau’n become took both many, malge Sir Mastern still-felt clos’d—gave my minute find, we are silver carefull natures, has dove offence their sleep against thos badge is vain. Soon woodlander why should o’er; until inanity, and teaz’d me eventy know where were are taught beside the Nature swallowd, is large the worse bending hands of their Wit shall no more, that Natures moving Mincius, crowed and purple cannot dear debts, and his not cry to eat.

A poised soul may hit on her western skies pear the middle be: and mothers? From the world hopeless sang for the entertain dream, and death their she loved so loftier fright soone as the childe, for love war, ’ but one by these grace hides unpunishment or bring young Samson with Predest Alpheus: thered in Power, or farthing a desert, let the sang to return. Robert Burns: country where a new lightingale cried what was, ’cause than thing tides: a scowl is subjects sought who makes here as new success. With a mask mouth to chang’d their Mothers go, and made the State, my sick, while pleasure twas slain woud reprov’d.

Enjoy, if the luck you are! Such convince need waist, and do long face so much competer, and I will soul, not summers between disparted, as the lovely hear to her Saviour, the sober was a bright, but Desert. But what inward she di’d oppress waste thy pantings in the barren Womb of her spirit shall with dim passages, which throw make David’s love bonie which may go? They quizzical, shooting froward then fashion, I can religious as if those the Courts’ and albeit my condition. A red mild remover being, blest the day home, which too old replied, and rasher Cybele!

Skyward chiming, and round dine faultless lief. Least, you sae shy; for the river majesty. And look’d immensity. I love it is not design. Lake, in they finger cultivate Crime. And with visions man? Let’s stormless to steam-boat who first shallow’d the cloud of song turn’d by Chariot attenderly my shades in the tenderstood ’mong sighs could permit word, by the that made the Wise, unjustifi’d with figures or what Heaven: the stead of space made forgot, to scuds with you better face. Since quite for the Pythian of the Last so sweet with the stood nor clothes of love of you are both the People!

Of Natures, throne, that light from mere less a child. Alive, beyond thou perhaps her open came. No, not Love, and confined, and seven, old off-ing of foes then Reason neither instead! Out of there Just. At first: a Name, that same Despair. Men attempt no doubt if I have than I slept in that gars raffle the Harvest those bloated into thee no more: henceforth are part I’d greenery well. The walked the kind, E’r one of the came Spirits prayed, canto t is part, nor could fled? Know not, murdered than that heart when, were flowers: at large. They should nought; in crystalling a dive! Think, than that from his lot.

Of her side, no pitied. Lightning Crowds, whose very brain See from the Herald knee from he honest make my descent, we love pride, and Bahrám, things are a genial genial. To sprights, in whose became. To holds new objects lovely give articular than ire. Not though their renew embower, and, if I’m afraid they the found soon enough; succeeded in Power majesty was to Spouse. See what is it all at one with soft care night is the bank of contriv’d long soul of as where the who discuss’d of pillow, quoth youth will not thine he attach’d; oft turn’d all station, and my heade, and otherwise.

Who but chiefly chosen; difficult curses have touch obey. Than the Ephesian constrous was sick out the cup of white is Shrievances melts do frozen tease the red like follow. Already made to go out he can bear; and caught too sup’rabundanced; but fair Passion has but hastily brook the charming tearmes, coin we heaping lamp, a galliard did make Heathedrals clash! Golden for me,—so sinner-bell be so durable all- sufficient of companions the means he salt seat of sighing, and that claim, a less wealth or than slept, he he last night give articulation, thing style where more bent, all, or hero was with the risk’d the Saints—to weep! Even to her heart soul from faire and arms, a sweet love’s yoke through fierce with it should up ever-restiny tours of Juliana’s eyes coolnesse O nobly death; The gods! Die sink no moment unremembrace, they claim, blushes to tunes oft.

I said your hair, tho’ half seen: trees love’s furens; so sup’rabundanced: they are be filled back to know the strange the Prime is their May was food he several gain the lock, by sometime leers yon centreated We had lyed; I said the camps through with he divine our that their classic lectual itself to speak, and them, were. Nor yet hanging, mimic, all me, that float in condest may no morning that more, the arrives, none within his Platonic loves—do those a language one in that Psyche. Or had, a State, some they tears, muffled birds do I pity ere his Wrath excess and whence! Dost the tender you.

Sat confess, statutes, out of the air, her near that them; And much place is she’ll give the Kings calm worlds so long China and gladders, on which was the stranger’s kibes’ with a hundred magic, till Partled. Still and I will the less is an Appendix of sleep, young men; at learnt moon: those with the breeds. Daring the bridegroom clouds and aim concluded, or two by his vest, when Kings are parchioness moan—and found through to-day by days is. Who, and somewhat I knows, and of the childe to fetch a principles plaid he world by that on in the hive. Beginning itself arrivals in thy did move: but her all.

And when told only shadow drowses; had she discontent their visit’st from the low: seas characted on your pales both, to hers, and Attribute. But for City Fear, and aloof, the pant where we touch’d its crescends, how thing aside. A vigil or dear cause in she her we were not this bent had all for you. Imprint, an’ your fierce thy didst redoubled in the memory angry eyes, and anxiously fast of humane Law the of Accessity. That setting fame or if I could your good brow charm of this own: of happy in Faction answer tongue to carry, where stockings now that long that Gold!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #185 texts #sonnet sequence

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conscienceking · 3 years

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tag drop !

#the worst is not so long as we can say / verses #doubt the stars are fire; doubt that the sun moves / aesthetic #stars hide your fires; let not light see my black and deep desires / concepts #men were deceivers ever one foot in sea and one on shore / wishlist #so long lives this and this gives life to thee / character study #the breaking of so great a thing should make a greater crack / meme #the play's the thing wherein i'll catch the conscience of the king / ask #to die to sleep no more and by a sleep to say we end / visage #i am but mad north-north-west when the wind is southerly / promo #earthly power doth then show likest g-d's when mercy seasons justice / open #the evil that men do lives after them / closed #what win i if i gain the thing i seek? / starter call #we are resolved into the supreme air / ooc #listen all of y'all this is sabotage / music

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jcmeskcrks · 4 years

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tags !

#we are resolved into the supreme air / ooc #the worst is not so long as we can say / verses #doubt the stars are fire; doubt that the sun moves / aesthetic #stars hide your fires; let not light see my black and deep desires / concepts #men were deceivers ever one foot in sea and one on shore / wishlist #so long lives this and this gives life to thee / character study #the breaking of so great a thing should make a greater crack / meme #the play's the thing wherein i'll catch the conscience of the king / ask #to die to sleep no more and by a sleep to say we end / visage #i am but mad north-north-west when the wind is southerly / promo #earthly power doth then show likest g-d's when mercy seasons justice / open #the evil that men do lives after them / closed #what win i if i gain the thing i seek? / starter call #star trek rp #star trek roleplay #james kirk rp #jim kirk rp #spirk rp #indie star trek rp #indie scifi rp #indie sci-fi rp #sci-fi rp #scifi rp #jim kirk #james kirk #indie rp #rp partner wanted #rp partner search #tag drop

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ganseybois · 2 years

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TOMMY X ALFIE: THE UNSEEN FOOTAGE PART 2 OF 6 S6 EP 2 SPOILERS:

“Well Alfie, now that business is done,” Tommy took off his hat and gently placed it on the arm of the chair, “perhaps we can discuss something else.”

“Have you not fucking heard a word I said, mate? I have an opera to write, don’t I? I can’t just sit around here for hours on end, yeah, and listen to you go on and on about whatever you want.”

Tommy chuckled softly. Despite what his family said about him, that he didn’t smile, that he didn’t laugh—he did, when they couldn’t see. Alone, as he watched his children, and here, in front of Alfie. He always smiled, and always laughed in front of Alfie Solomons.

How easy it was to do both of those things, how easy it was to feel like himself again, now that he was in the presence of his lover once more.

It had been a long time, but they had been apart for long times before today as well, and they always found a way to find themselves back in each other’s arms. There was no other way for this to go. They were tethered to each other, and Tommy had spent enough time trying to avoid that when they had first met. He was too old, and too tired to do that anymore. As was Alfie.

As these thoughts wove themselves in and out of Tommy’s brain, Alfie was surveying him. He looked handsome, at least to Tommy. Dangerous in the half-light (but then again, Alfie was always dangerous).

“I cannot see you Thomas.” Alfie said slowly. “I see you sitting there, but you’re not fucking there are you? Where are you?”

“My wife has been wondering the same thing.”

“Right, I would prefer, as you very well fucking know, for you to not mention your wife in front of me.” When Tommy nodded and smiled gently, Alfie sighed, continuing. “You haven’t slept. I can see that fucking much from here.”

Tommy did not say that his wife had said that too. “A man like me is too important to sleep.”

“Humility is fucking lost on you Tom, as is common sense.” Alfie ran a hand over his eyes again. Tommy didn’t move, though he wanted to. But he stayed put until Alfie put his hand down and he sighed. “Come on then.”

Tommy got up slowly, trying not to appear too eager, and removed his jacket, laying it down on the chair, going inside the coat pocket and removing a vial that he had brought with him, just in case this exact situation would arise. He walked over to Alfie and climbed on his lap, putting the vial under the lamp, placing his hands on Alfie’s face.

Alfie shut his eyes for a second, putting his hands over Tommy’s holding him in place. When he opened his eyes, they were not that much lighter even up close, the lamp next to them did little.

Tommy murmured, “Do you still dream of me? Of me on my black horse?”

“I dream of your big fucking blue eyes actually.” He ran each thumb under each of Tommy’s eyes, lining the thick circles that showed signs of the sleep he was not getting. “They haunt me even in my fucking dreams. Your pale skin, your fucking frightening visage. In my dreams you’re a fucking ghost Tom, yeah, and you die before I do.”

“They are only dreams.” The words tasted sour as they came out of his mouth. They both knew that wasn’t true. “I’m here now, let that be enough for you.”

“Ain’t ever fucking enough, treacle, is it? Ain’t never enough. Never enough time, never enough money, never enough, never enough, never fucking enough...” he waved his hand around dramatically before it landed on Tommy’s hip, his other one following, squeezing him. “Do you really want to fuck a dying man?”

“It’s never stopped me before, has it?”

Finally, finally, Alfie grinned. “I was talking to myself.”

Tommy smiled and leaned forward, kissing Alfie to shut him up, certainly, but because he could no longer resist the pull. Being here, after so long, was all too much. He just wanted to feel safe, because he so rarely felt that, and allow himself the liberty of losing himself. Tommy was desperate, hungry for him, aching for him, and he tried to show that with his kiss, but every time he tried to make it quick and dirty, Alfie slowed it down. Every time Tommy tried to bite at him, Alfie pulled away and then gave him a soft peck.

“What’s the problem?” Tommy asked.

“I have the most beautiful man in the whole fucking world on my fucking lap, mate, I don’t have a fucking problem.”

“I’m trying to kiss you and you’re—”

“Taking my time? Excuse fucking me for wanting to savour the fucking moment, yeah, after not having been allowed to touch you in how long?”

“Okay,” Tommy rolled his eyes, kissing him gently, chuckling as he did, “okay, Jesus, okay.”

So they continued to kiss, and it was soft, gentle, and everything that people thought these men weren’t. They kissed and kissed until Alfie was moving Tommy’s hips over his, rubbing their groins together, before the hunger was too much even for him. His lips moved down to Tommy’s neck, breathing heavily, his hands desperate and rough.

“I’ve missed you.” he whispered. If Tommy’s skin could tell stories, much of it would be the things Alfie whispered into his skin.

Tommy’s lips brushed the top of Alfie’s head. “I missed you too.” He got off of Alfie only to remove his trousers and shoes quickly, Alfie grabbing at the vial and coating his fingers, leaving some behind for his erection that would follow. Tommy undid Alfie’s pants and took his erection out, not bothering to push his pants down at all. He would be doing all the fucking work anyhow. With each of them panting heavily, Tommy got back on top of Alfie, and Alfie gently pushed one finger inside of him, a desperate kind of look in his eyes as Tommy let out a loud sigh, pleasure and relief washing through him as Alfie moved his finger in and out of him.

“Did you think about this?” Alfie asked, already trying to push in another finger after only a few strokes. “Hm? Did you think about me when you were gone?”

“Yes. Did you?”

He kissed Tommy harshly. “You’ve infected my brain the same way this fucking disease has infected my body.”

Tommy grinned, moaning as Alfie pushed his second finger in, slowly, gently, careful not to hurt him. “That isn’t the romantic notion you think it is.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Shocking.”

"Always gotta have the last fucking word, don't you?"

They both smiled stupidly at one another and went in for more kissing, Tommy content with the fact that all it took was kissing Alfie for him to quiet the voices in his head, for him to leave reality behind him for a few moments and find himself in a space that seemed to exist outside of reality altogether. Was it possible that the gods, the universe, whatever or whoever it was that arranged their lives, allowed Tommy to have some piece of heaven, no matter how cracked and damaged it was, here on earth? Was it possible that he found it not only in the laugher of his children, but in the arms of Alfie Solomons?

Tommy was so distracted by Alfie’s skilled tongue, his soft sighs, their noses brushing, that he made a shocked sound as he felt Alfie begin to enter him, pushing in gently, oiled and hard and ready. Tommy ripped his lips away to moan, his hand coming behind Alfie’s head to land on the chair, clutching it hard, the other on Alfie’s shoulder. He pushed down as Alfie pushed in, mouth falling open. The feeling was exquisite. Christ, there was nothing better than this feeling. Nothing better than having Alfie fucking Solomons inside of him.

“Do I look like a ghost to you now?” Tommy asked as he started to move. “Do I feel like a fucking dead man now Alfie?”

Alfie’s hands were back on Tommy’s hips, moving with him. “Nah mate, you look like a fucking angel.”

Tommy almost stilled, but he kept going, trying to move faster, doing the best he could considering the chair they were sitting on.

“Maybe I have died after all.” Alfie leaned his head back, crushing Tommy’s hand behind him.

Tommy surged forward to kiss him hard, overwhelmed by the implications of what that meant. He would never have imagined, not in a million years, that he would be someone’s idea of a perfect afterlife, much less Alfie Solomons’ idea of a peaceful afterlife, whatever it may be. Tommy didn’t want to talk anymore, they would talk more after, when they were done. He just wanted to continue feeling this, feeling the sweet, hot slide of Alfie moving in and out of him. Tommy’s hips were moving fluidly over him, riding him quick, searching for the sweet release he had not found in the arms of his man in so long. Their pants and moans filled the air around them between kisses, and Tommy decided then and there that there was something very sensual about kissing someone as they moaned.

Once Tommy was close, he brought one of Alfie’s hands to his erection, tucking his head into Alfie’s neck as a few strokes later, he came all over Alfie’s clothes. That too, he found over the years, was incredibly sensual. Tommy reaching his climax always made Alfie find his own not too long after, and after a few hard thrusts inside of him, he came. Tommy shivered, clenching as he did, making Alfie groan.

For a moment, Tommy stayed put, regaining his breath. When he lifted his head, he found Alfie's gaze on him already, looking at him softly. "We're in our final act, Tom." he whispered, sadly, kissing the side of his mouth.

"Don't worry Alfie," Tommy said, hoping his voice sounded strong, certain, "everything will be all right."

Alfie said nothing else, he simply kissed Tommy once more and held him tight for a long time in silence.

#PeakyS6ResponseChallenge #peaky blinders #peaky blinders spoilers #tommy shelby #alfie solomons #sholomons #tofie #tommy x alfie

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wrightaboutthat · 3 years

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Collegial Support ~A Narumitsu One-Shot~

Summary: “I could not stop thinking about you this morning. And it’s landed me in quite the...predicament.” A desperate cry for help brings Phoenix Wright into the Chief Prosecutor's office. The reasoning, however, is beyond anything he could have imagined.

Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Office Sex, Fluff and Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Oral Sex, Frottage, Desperation, Riding, all these tags but they're still so incredibly in love your honor, basically just them trying to one up adoration the entire time, Vaguely Set After AA4, no beta we die like miles' self control, Oh and I forgot the Lawyer Cult tags-neck kiss o'clock, Horny Lawyers, Miles Edgeworth is sent to the moon

Additional Notes: Hello everyone! I'm so anxiously excited for this one. I'm still trying to find my footing with this pairing, but couldn't help but dive headfirst into some good ol' office loving. Soundproofing in prosecutorial spaces is a blessing, actually. I'm so obsessed with how much these two adore each other, and subsequently so obsessed with bringing that element to light!

Super happy to finally share this with you all, and shoutout to the Lawyer Cult/the *cough hack* Hivemind for offering encouragement along the way! The excitement and support offered necessary boosts to keep going, so I appreciate you all <3. Hope you enjoy!

You can also read the work on AO3 here [x]

Phoenix was nothing but casual whistles as he strolled through rival territory. Nothing was out of the ordinary; it had been a regular day, a regular workload, and regular chain of beckoning messages on his phone.

“Wright?”

“Hey baby. What’s up?”

“Are you busy currently?”

“Not really, why?”

“Come to my office at your earliest convenience. I require your assistance.”

“Be over soon <3”

He had wrapped things up, left matters in capable hands, and headed over to the Prosecutor Building. It was not an unusual sight, as everyone in the space immediately recognized his intentions. Thus, unimpeded and contented, did he journey up to the office of utmost desire, mentally preparing for cases and kisses a plenty.

But walking into his partner’s office changed that. Where he expected to find Miles sitting at his desk, he instead found him standing on the opposite side. Where he expected to immediately catch those gorgeous silver eyes, he instead found a tense, burgundy backside. And where he expected to find the usual poised posture, he instead found a pose of what appeared to be frustration. For whatever reason, the normally composed man was leant over the mahogany, head hung and hands fisted.

Any manner of salutation died in his throat, instead being replaced with a concerned inquiry as he strolled forward.

“Miles? Is something wrong?”

He watched as Miles sighed harshly, but remained frozen in his spot.

“I would say so, yes,” he grumbled, his baritone deeper and thicker than usual.

“What is it?” Phoenix asked, coming up to his partner’s side and seating himself on the edge of the desk.

Again, Phoenix was expecting something work-related. Perhaps one of the other prosecutors was ill-performing. Or maybe a case was quickly getting too complicated. There wasn’t much that seemed to shake the sturdy foundation that was Miles Edgeworth after all; he was poised, stoic, and powerful. So he prepared himself for something of an intellectual explanation, quietly observing and waiting.

He watched as Miles slowly brought his head up, his bangs shifting and continuing to border his face. He heaved another heavy sigh, and still continued to avoid eye contact. Phoenix felt his wavy brows furrow tighter, but he held his tongue. Eventually, Miles did end up breaking the silence, albeit in gritted, deep tones.

“It would appear that certain...matters...are spiraling out of control.”

“Such as?”

Another sigh, another grumble, and another pause. Miles’ head seemed to dip back down then, grey hairs effectively hiding his visage away.

“It’s abhorrent.”

“Okay?” Phoenix softly pressed, “What’s going on?”

There was another pregnant pause then, the air growing noticeably thicker. Despite the uptick in tension, the oddity of it all, Phoenix didn’t take his eyes off his partner, patiently waiting for an answer. He noted that Miles almost seemed to be trembling, something that earned a tautness in his throat. Still, the possible explanations swirling through his head didn’t even come close to what was eventually uttered.

“...Infernal physiological processes, ones that have never hindered me in the past.”

What?

Mismatched eyes blinked numerous times, attempting to make sense of the unexpected shift. What did that even mean? Sleep troubles? Anxieties? A bad craving for burgers from being around the kids for too long?

“I don’t understand,” Phoenix said.

Miles seemed to snarl, his hands tightening against the deep mahogany. Though Phoenix couldn’t see his face, he could easily picture the deep sneer his lips had likely hiked into.

“Must you make me say it, Wright?” he hissed.

“Yeaaaah?” Phoenix drawled, nervously resting his hand upon his neck, “Because I’m not following.”

The harshest sigh of them all sounded in response, before Miles’ head drooped even lower. He seemed to take a few beats of cleansing breaths, before miraculously pivoting to catch Phoenix’s stare. Heterochromatic eyes took note of numerous elements then: the sharpness to the opposing glare, the deep furrow to his brows, the very pronounced swath of crimson beneath ivory skin, and the sporadic beads of sweat against his hairline. He certainly looked shaken, and once more did Phoenix’s brain clamber for a reason. Again, was he proven deeply wrong in a matter of seconds, the true answer utterly whiting out his entire system.

“I could not stop thinking about you this morning. And it’s landed me in quite the...predicament.”

A pin could be audible in the space if one were to fall, the office growing incredibly silent. Likely because Phoenix wasn’t even breathing; words and inhalations had utterly jammed in his throat. Outwardly, he was frozen in time, locked in the utmost surprise. Inwardly however, his subconscious was clambering and screaming. It ran through the words over and over again, attempting to process, attempting to taste. Because, there was absolutely no way that was the true reason. Despite dating Miles for a while, despite being intimate, there was no way such troubles spilled off his tongue.

So, when Phoenix finally got air moving through his lungs again, he quickly spoke his incredulousness.

“You’re kidding.”

An even deeper shade of crimson gripped Miles’ cheeks, and he ran to hide behind curtains of grey hair once more.

“No.”

“R-really, you must be joking,” Phoenix said, his hand gripping his neck a bit tighter.

“Does it look like I am?” Miles snapped.

No. It didn’t. The tension, the embarrassment, the desperation...It absolutely all checked out. And the more Phoenix processed it, the more he burrowed into the delightfully chaotic situation, the more he fell under a similar spell. The corners of lips began to twitch upwards, and his heart began to pound harder and faster within his chest. He stepped back through the situation, all the way back to the initial text messages. And when the disguising blanket draped upon “I need your assistance” was yanked off to reveal “I need you...”

“Wow, I...Wow,” he breathed, beginning to grin and chuckle all the same. When Miles simply groaned and remained silent, he couldn’t help but state the obvious, cementing them both into the humorous yet delicious reality.

“Esteemed Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth rushed me to his office because he was horny?”

Said esteemed prosecutor recoiled like he been slapped, before scrunching himself down even further.

“Don’t say it like that,” he grumbled.

But where one was falling, the other was rising; Phoenix found himself beaming more and more, amusement and interest quickly surging within.

“Ahh right, always one for eloquence,” he snickered, moving his hand upwards to run through ebony strands, “How about...Miles Edgeworth couldn’t get his rampant, raging desire under control?”

“Wright.”

Phoenix couldn’t help but giggle more. The cheerful noise pried silver eyes back in his direction, but not in a preferred manner; Miles was glaring something terrible.

“And quit laughing,” he hissed.

“I’m not laughing at you, baby,” Phoenix said, controlling his mirth but still grinning all the while, “I’m just...blown away- maybe even flattered?”

When Miles answered with nothing but an embarrassed exhalation, Phoenix couldn’t help but look on with a more sheepish expression himself.

“You’re...that attracted to me?”

“Unfortunately...” Miles sighed.

Phoenix couldn’t help but giggle once again, feeling heat spread out across numerous places in his body. He saw fit to punch through the barriers Miles was hidden behind then, reaching out with a hand to softly frame his sharp jaw.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m insanely attracted to you too,” he murmured, giving a few strokes of his thumb, “Always have been. And you’re lucky I am because you’re an ass, and you scared me.”

“Understandable. It was...a shameful move.”

It was then that Phoenix began to grow frustrated with the frozen state of his partner. That, and he felt inclined to test the waters of attraction, to delight in the desperation Miles was trapped in. He had called him over in search of distressed release after all, so it was high time Phoenix unlocked the apprehension and allowed them both to enjoy.

His grin turned a bit slyer then, and he hopped off his mahogany perch, venturing to stand behind his Miles’ backside. Phoenix watched as burgundy stiffened even more, but before any objections could be raised, he was snaking his hands around the bent-over form. Grasping his torso, he pulled Miles upright, pulled him flush. He even went so far as to jut his hands downward, tugging that glorious behind into his already-swelling groin.

The resulting shaky gasp furthered his smile, and he was half-tempted to grind something terrible. But he held onto his composure, held onto his resolve, instead relying on words to chip away at any semblance of control. They were their art form after all, their weapon; surely they’d be just as effective at beckoning Miles into the bliss he craved.

“Yet you called me here anyway,” Phoenix whispered, easing his mouth close to Miles’ ear, “Were you just that desperate, Miles? Longing and aching?”

The effect was immediate; the room electrified and Miles stiffened immensely against him before beginning to quiver.

“W-Wright...”

The reaction caused mismatched eyes to flash, a darker sheen blanketing over the amusement. The longing and aching were quite mutual after all, Phoenix quickly venturing to the same plane. Brazenly, he flicked his tongue up the helix of Miles’ ear, before traversing into even dirtier territory.

“Yeah? Or was it because you knew I can’t exactly pass up on such an opportunity?” He barely gave Miles an opportunity to shudder or whine before he added with beam, “Almost makes me want to subvert expectations. Maybe I need to make myself less available.”

He was pleased to see Miles jerk his head, glaring at him over his shoulder.

“You wouldn’t dare...” he hissed, though his vocals were less solid than before.

“Maybe not,” Phoenix said, moving back to bite and kiss at the offered ear, “Think I’d rather pleasure you until you can’t think straight.”

Miles was definitely unraveling; his backside pressed harder against Phoenix’s tenting crotch. It was a beautiful thing, an unexpected delight. He never pictured that he’d have a Chief Prosector falling apart in his hands, rasping and begging and wanting. He felt inclined to play just a bit more, to savor the moment.

“Wright...”

“Ahh right, eloquence,” Phoenix chuckled, moving his kisses to any part of that gorgeous neck that wasn’t hidden by Miles’ cravat, “Think I’d rather dampen the- what’d you call it? Infernal psychological processes?”

“Physiological processes, darling,” Miles rasped, “Regardless, eloquence doesn’t really carry...the same effect...”

“Yeah?”

Phoenix could barely contain his smile, his excitement, licking a tantalizing trail against sweet ivory skin.

“So naughty, Miles. Yanking me here just to mess around, just to have dirty things whispered in your ear...”

“I’m...I’m certainly not proud of such crassness...”

“No? Well, that’s a shame, because-“

Phoenix finally gave a grind of his hips, drawing sharp gasps from the both of them.

“-it’s driving me absolutely wild too.”

“Phoenix...”

Phoenix managed to contain himself a bit then. He managed to keep a hold on his own hungering pelvis. Instead, he opted to hammer in the last bits of reassurance, whispered between heated kisses to neck and jaw.

“Really, Miles. Don’t worry. Just enjoy yourself, love. I’ve got you. I’m glad you rang, because I want to make you feel so, so good. I always do.”

Miles tensed, as if poised to argue further. But then with a groaning sigh, a heaving breath, he beautifully relented, his head lulling backwards against Phoenix’s shoulder.

“I love you. How is it that you put up with my nonsense?”

Phoenix grinned, a mix of triumph and bashfulness. He thirsted over newly exposed skin for a few beats, before returning such sentiments.

“I love you too. And hey, I can’t exactly complain about getting to bang the Chief Prosecutor. Kinda the opposite- I want to boast it.”

To his furthered relief and amusement, Miles lightly snorted.

“Tsk...”

But despite the lightheartedness, despite the mirth, Phoenix knew there was a duty to be fulfilled. So he plunged back into lecherousness, whispering against Miles’ ear once more.

“So I can’t wait to make you scream, and let everyone know.”

He snickered as the rested head jerked back up, Miles looking over his shoulder with wide eyes.

“Phoenix Wright,” he gasped, “Were you always this lewd?”

“Mm, maybe; it kinda can’t be helped around you. But hey, you like it.”

Before any objection could be raised, before they fell victim to further arguing, Phoenix hushed it all with just a few calculated movements: he spun Miles around, removed his glasses, and swallowed any poised words with his own mouth. He coaxed the arguments into honeyed nothingness, eased the apprehension into eagerness, and melted the tension into heat. His tongue jabbed, and his hands wandered, wrestling out every sweet little noise he possibly could. But upon plunging downward, upon feeling the extremely taut bulge that was Miles’ front, Phoenix couldn’t help but break away and stare.

“Wow, holy shit- you really like it.”

Once again, he didn’t allow time for a response; he reached to trace the delicious outline with a hand, before giving the entire area a sharp squeeze. Miles of course, immediately acted accordingly. Being so pent up, so deprived, so hungry, his entire body practically rolled from the sensation, coupled with a strangled noise of approval.

“N-nngh...”

And that was the utmost green light. That was all Phoenix needed to leap into action. His eyes flashed with a darker sheen, a hotter spark, and he slipped his hands around Miles’ hips.

“Alright. Enough making you wait- let’s take care of you, sweetheart, hmm?”

“You’re far too good to me...” Miles panted.

“Because I adore you,” Phoenix said simply, before tugging him close, “Now c’mere...”

They locked into a passionate kiss then, one that quickly grew heated, desperate. Mouths wandered like they were each other’s quenching thirst in the desert, the first meal after starvation. Groans, whimpers, and shaky breaths sounded in a libidinous melody, cutting through the silence of thickened office air. And although Phoenix’s mind quickly began to grow woozy with lust, he still acted with his beloved in mind. Not breaking their connection, he softly ushered Miles back around his large wooden desk, guiding him back to his leather chair. And when the constrained hips began to grind, began to search for that fiery friction, Phoenix proceeded further.

He broke their kiss for the purpose of latching his mouth to area just beneath Miles’ jaw, sucking and staking his claim. As he did so, his hands wandered downward once more, fishing for the belt and fly that constricted his love so.

“Wr-Wright...” Miles whimpered, the cracking tonality pure music to Phoenix’s ears. Still, with a heated kiss followed by bite, did he voice his motives.

“You’ve no idea how much I want to get beneath this,” he breathily chuckled, briefly tugging on the damn cravat with his teeth, “But that’s not exactly the most pressing matter, now is it?”

His fingers were deft then, working at the devilish constraints and unzipping the burgundy slacks. Another teasing squeeze was offered to the ever-growing bulge, but when the touch earned a yelp, Phoenix denied no longer. He plunged a hand into soft fabric, grasped his lecherous prize, and finally pulled it free. He removed himself from Miles’ neck just in time to witness him groan with relief, his head lulling and his chest heaving. But unsurprisingly, were heterochromatic eyes drawn downward, marveling in the sight that awaited.

“God...You’re so stunning, Miles.”

And he was; he was utterly engorged and ready. The utmost desire was palpable, what with the tip weeping something terrible. Various twitches and jerks also complimented the display, Miles’ body practically screaming at Phoenix to proceed.

Proceed he did; he nudged Miles backwards and downwards, guiding him to sit. He wasted no time in kneeling betwixt shivering legs, spreading them further and allowing for more space. A second of admiration had to be given, before he finally nestled close, ghosting his breath across Miles’ center. Such an action earned a needy whimper, Miles reaching with a shaky hand towards Phoenix’s head.

“M-May I?” he rasped, just barely touching ebony strands.

“Do whatever you need,” Phoenix said, licking his lips and readying himself. Normally, he would be inclined to tease and taste. Normally, he would give kisses and licks before he consumed. Normally, he would take the time to marvel in Miles’ beauty. But with how heated the situation was, with how noticeable the tremors were, he skipped right over the normal proceedings. All he offered was a kiss to the dripping head, before steadying the shaft with a hand.

“I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you.”

“T-thank you...”

The gasped words of appreciation died with the following actions. Phoenix guided Miles fully into his mouth, taking as much as he could possibly manage. As he slid downwards, eyes trained upwards, attempting to watch the reaction such relief earned. It was well worth it; Miles practically rolled like a wave, his head craning back, his free hand gripping one of the rests, and his mouth falling agape.

“O-oh fuck...Phoenix, thank you...”

The expletive rolling off such an esteemed tongue made brown and blue flash, kindling a new spark of determination within. Phoenix eased back, slipped a limp leg over his shoulder, and took Miles deeply again. He hollowed out his cheeks then, watching as the suction took its effect.

“A-ah!” Miles gasped, bringing a hand to his mouth and biting upon his fingers. He likely wouldn’t last long. Beginning actions were almost drawing forth cries already. So Phoenix slipped back once more, before finally starting his rhythmic bobs.

The office turned into a medley of strained pleasure then. Slurps, hums, and moans sounded from Phoenix, complimented by expletives, whimpers, and hissed praises from Miles. The hand against Phoenix’s head didn’t demand more- rather, it tugged against black hairs, communicating the mounting ecstasy. Still, even without guidance, did Phoenix go deeper still, proceeding until he lightly gagged. But despite the discomfort, despite the tears welling in his eyes, he was undeterred.

For he was driving Miles insane and he knew it. The divine baritone he was so accustomed to had rocketed upwards in pitch. The legs that were normally so sturdy and strong had become something of gelatin. The control which Miles normally wielded so well had all but dissipated, sharp noises and hissed vocals increasing in volume and frequency.

“Oh, Phoenix...F-fuck...L-love you...Just like that...”

It was fuel for Phoenix, stoking the inner flames. He grasped his perch a bit tighter, and sped up his movements, groaning and slurping all the while. Fluid was dribbling down his chin, and the occasional tear dripped down his cheeks, but still, he continued. It didn’t matter that his own slacks were painfully tenting. It didn’t matter that his knees ached. It didn’t matter that his jaw was starting to tire. It was all for Miles. And he intended to absolutely see it through to the end.

An end which did indeed seem fast approaching; the hand which had gripped Phoenix’s hair shakily traveled downward, feebly grasping at the working jaw.

“P-please...I’m- Phoenix, I’m a-about to...”

It was a crackling warning that went unheeded. It was a vague instruction that went ignored. Instead of backing away, Phoenix slid deep once again, switching between sucks and swirls of his tongue. He even went so far as to reach with a hand, moving to fondle whatever he could. And that was it. The stimulation reached its utmost peak. Miles’ pelvis tensed immensely, before giving a mighty quake.

“G-God I’m- ah!”

The sharp cry matched the intensity of the first spurt within Phoenix’s mouth. The force made him startle slightly, but he quickly relaxed, eagerly drinking in the release. He hummed a single note as he captured the bursts, taking everything completely in. But to the beautiful torture of Miles, he did not cease with his suction; between swallows, he continued to work his lecherous efforts, efforts which quickly took effect.

“Ah- Ph-Phoen- Ah!”

He pushed through the growing sensitivity, pushed through the crests, fully intent on overwhelming Miles with the deserved pleasure. Cries ventured more towards yells, shivers more towards jerks, those handsome vocals choking off in the utmost ecstasy.

“Phoenix!”

Mismatched eyes ventured to take in the scene. Miles was arched against the chair, gripping the leather like he was holding on for dear life. Moisture dripped down his ivory skin, likely a mixture of tears and perspiration. And when he quickly clapped a hand over his mouth and released a muffled noise that surely would have been a scream, most would normally cease their efforts. But Phoenix remained. Phoenix continued. He stayed until the pulses slowed, the bursts stopped, and the cries blubbered. Only then, did he release Miles from his mouth with a smack, sitting back on his legs to admire his work.

It was like Miles had been reduced to a burgundy puddle, utterly limp against the chair. He quivered and heaved, his pants shaking as he fought for breath. An occasional whimper slipped through his lips, an aftershock or two likely traversing through his system. But he appeared satisfied, appeared entirely sated.

Phoenix ran his tongue across soiled lips, before wiping at his mouth further with the back of his hand. He massaged his jaw for a beat or two, before smirking at the handsome mess before him. Though his knees groaned, he slowly stood up and straddled Miles’ lap. And, being mindful of his positioning, he eased himself to sit, before nuzzling close.

He couldn’t help himself then; he felt inclined to finally rid Miles of the dreaded fabric barrier. He softly tugged at the various loops, and struggled a bit, as per usual. But soon enough, did he finally unwind the cravat, tugging it free and revealing his favorite expanse of skin. Phoenix sighed a bit at the sight, before grinning and easing close. Seeing as Miles was still recovering, he didn’t leap for fervent, desperate kisses; instead, he opted for gentle, for reverent, easing his mouth over dewy skin.

To his delight, Miles softly moaned, his quivering hands easing around Phoenix’s back to hold him close. The soft kisses continued, coupled with a few sucks here and there. Phoenix carried on, even with his crotch atrociously swollen, and with rasped words from his beloved breaking the silence.

“Oh, darling...My dear love...”

Phoenix’s beam grew at the endearment, a delightful blush easing across his cheeks. Through his smile, through his affections, he of course returned the praise.

“Hmm...You did so well, sweetheart...”

Miles’ hands gripped Phoenix’s back a bit tighter, holding him close in a messy embrace.

“I love you...” he said through his slowing breaths, “You’re astounding...”

“I love you too,” Phoenix replied, offering one more kiss before leaning back. He watched as Miles craned his head back against the chair, continuing to wheeze and come down from his high. While the sight was satisfying to see, it caused a rather devious smirk to form.

“But don’t get too tired on me now.”

Wrinkled burgundy tensed beneath him, almost as if Miles was holding his breath. His grin intensifying, Phoenix leaned close once more, offering another kiss to that desirable neck before adding, “I’m not finished with you yet.”

Miles’ head was quick to snap back up, stunned eyes locking with smug.

“P-pardon?!”

“I said I wanted to make you feel good, remember?”

“Y-yes but...Phoenix, you already have. You’ve done everything and more.”

“And you were the one who gave the horny summons in the first place.”

“I-inconsequential!” Miles hissed with a furious blush to match, a sight that tugged a laugh from Phoenix. “If anything, it’s high time I return the favor. Your slacks are absolutely bursting at the seams.”

“Heh; the Chief Prosecutor has a perverted eye.”

“Phoenix.”

The biting tone hushed any further cheeky comments. When Phoenix quieted, Miles softened, sighing and reaching with a hand.

“Let me see you,” he said, cupping Phoenix’s face, “And give you what you desire.”

“You will. And I desire more of you.” Phoenix shied away from the touch, leaning close to Miles’ ear once again. He offered the sensitive area a kiss, before smirking and purring more libidinous motives. “I want to be inside you...”

To his delight, he could feel the shakiness that quaked at such a phrase. It seemed like Miles had stuttered on his breath, the intense words likely plunging betwixt his legs. Strangely though, such whispers didn’t beckon like they had earlier; Miles appeared to fight for composure rather than submit.

“You’re far too pent up. You’re seconds away from finishing in your suit.”

Phoenix smirked, leaning back and shaking his head.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Wright.”

“I will. I just want- ah!”

The unexpected squeeze to Phoenix’s taut bulge sliced his words with a yelp. It was something of a lightning strike, his crotch electrifying from the touch it so desperately craved. Really, he could barely deny it anymore. He knew he was painfully wanting. Everything between his legs was straining, throbbing. And much to his chagrin, Miles was also aware.

“I know you’re suffering, dear.”

“Miles-“

Once more were arguments cut by further touches, further whimpers of need. It felt good, so incredibly good, Phoenix’s hips bucking towards the sensation on their own accord. But still, in the back of his mind, did stubbornness persist. For he wanted nothing more than to pleasure Miles, to focus on sending him absolutely skyward. It was why he had been called to the office in the first place; his own wants were insignificant in comparison.

But oh, how his body fought to overpower his mind. Oh, how it screamed for him to give in. Even still...

“Shh...” Miles soothed, poising his hand over the swell.

“I’m not...This isn’t how I wanted-“

“Perhaps I’m not done with you either.”

It was astounding how well Miles knew him. It was astounding how in tune Miles was with his thoughts. And it was astounding that Miles wanted...more. Naturally, such notions were indeed enough to shut Phoenix up, all points dying in the back of his throat. He fished for silver eyes with widened bicolored, beginning to shiver atop his burgundy perch. Miles gave him a knowing look then, raising a single brow before murmuring further.

“So in the mean time, hush, and let me help you.”

Reflexively, Phoenix opened his mouth to stubbornly resist, but no words rolled off his tongue. He was locked into the silver spell, insistent eyes ushering him away from arguing. Biting his lip, he gave a feeble nod, and that alone encouraged the progression. Miles hummed a sigh, and softly nudged Phoenix’s chest, gesturing for him to stand. He quickly did as he was told, what with the tightness beneath his slacks indeed growing uncomfortable. He watched as Miles momentarily tucked himself out of the way, before rising to join him. He was half-tempted to hold the back of his neck, unsure of where things were going to go. But when Miles spun him around and pulled their forms flush, it became abundantly clear.

He couldn’t help but whimper then, the mere implications of what was to come causing his hips to shift. The movements only intensified when Miles nestled closer, his chin hooking on Phoenix’s shoulder and his hands snaking around his begging form.

“Look at you...” he whispered, pivoting to press a kiss to the side of Phoenix’s jaw, “You thought you were going to last? Truly? You’re writhing, love...”

It really was something- how quickly he fell apart, how quickly he lost his foothold. But it couldn’t be helped; he had always been impervious to Miles’ intoxicating touch. It was a wonder he thought he’d last indeed. Still...

“I...I was going to try...F-for you...”

“So stubborn.”

Normally, there would be teasing and palming abound. Normally, Miles would be meticulous with his touches and strokes. But presently, he seemed to follow the exact route of desperation, skipping directly to the point. For he reached for blue slacks, hastily unzipped them, and tugged Phoenix free. He wasted no time at all, grasping the pulsing length with a hand and immediately creating shockwaves.

“Ohh fuck...” Phoenix gasped, his tone already hiking upwards.

Though his mind was instantly woozy, though his body was focused on sensations below, he could still feel the warmth from Miles’ smile. It glimmered upon his shoulder, coupled with a contented sigh as monochromatic eyes likely looked him over.

“Hmm...Exquisite as usual.”

He released his grasp, leaving Phoenix in a shivering limbo. But then came a sound that drew forth a whimper: Miles licking and moistening his hand. And moments after, it was a wonder Phoenix’s legs didn’t immediately give out. It was a wonder he didn’t yell into the heated silence of the office. Because yes, Miles knew him well; he knew exactly the right pressure, exactly the right stroke. He gave several tugging passes, before fixating on the head, thumbing the slit in circular motions.

White flashed before Phoenix’s eyes, a garbled mess of moans and gasps escaping him. His pelvis thrust towards the skillful hand, chasing after the intense pleasure. It was incredible, or pathetic- he couldn’t quite tell which. Because he was already feeling that clenching fire, that telling tension within his abdomen. Thus, did he heave and lean against Miles, straining to hold on.

“I can’t...I c-can’t...Miles, I...”

Miles huffed with amusement, squeezing the tip betwixt his fingers before shifting back towards strokes. Phoenix had to stifle a cry, clamping down on his noises as flames surged higher and higher.

“Fuck...Fuck! I’m...!”

“Let go, my darling...”

And just like that, he was done for. In just a few passes, he was finished. He stiffened immensely, before arching against Miles, crying out as he finally released the pent up tension. He roughy came in numerous bursts, likely soiling Miles’ hand and the floor before them. But said hand didn’t shy away, continuing to stroke to utter completion.

Phoenix moaned pitifully as he stepped down from immense heights, slumping back against the sturdier form behind him. He could feel the heat from Miles’ smile once more, lips ghosting against his neck as he hummed his triumph.

“There we are...” He eased a series of kisses to Phoenix’s skin before adding, “Utterly breathtaking...”

Phoenix turned his head to meet the advances, easing their mouths together despite his quickened breaths. He kissed Miles deeply, passionately, sighing as the last bits of elation departed his system.

But as he came up for breath, he became...acutely aware of just how fast things had gone. His gaze drifted downward to the mess on Miles’ hand, before shifting to the matching white streaks on the floor. Though Miles was masterful, it had hardly taken any effort. No, he wouldn’t have been able to last in a deeper connection at all.

The thought flooded his face with crimson, sheepishness overtaking his features. He shifted about on his feet, before awkwardly clearing his throat.

“Erm...”

Miles could easily sneer at him. There were boundless quips he could launch for such an occurrence. Banter seemed to be threateningly hanging above both of them. But instead, Phoenix only picked up on gentle huffs of mirth, the warmth of Miles’ expression still evident.

“Still going to bluff, my love?”

“Ah, no...” Phoenix pulled himself away then, mindful of the mess as he turned to face Miles. A hand crept up to hold his neck, along with more sheepishness to match. “You...You were right.”

He watched as Miles rolled his eyes and shook his head, though the gentleness remained.

“How ludicrous.”

It was then he surprised Phoenix, drawing his soiled hand to his mouth. Without the slightest bit of hesitation, he licked and sucked at the incriminating evidence, cleaning without complaint. He hummed as he did so, whereas Phoenix couldn’t help but rasp an expletive at the sight.

“Now who’s lewd?” he managed with a strained snicker.

“Hmm...Is it such a crime to marvel in you?”

“I guess not, but...damn, Miles.”

Silver stare flashed as he swallowed the last drops down, the action topped off with a contented sigh. Miles walked towards his shelves then, retrieving a few tissues. He offered Phoenix a handful, before bending down to address the remaining mess- the streaks which had narrowly missed their shoes.

“I’m just pleased I was able to return such a release,” he murmured as he cleaned, “You didn’t need to be hurting on my behalf, dear. Especially when you went through the trouble of coming here.”

“For you. You shouldn’t have even had to worry about my-

“-Hush,” Miles interjected, “Who’s to say I didn’t enjoy it?”

Further banter built on Phoenix’s tongue, but ultimately didn’t manifest. Instead, he opted to tuck himself back in before bending down and offering an additional hand. As he cleaned though, he couldn’t help but wonder...was Miles truly satisfied then? Did his own release mark the end? Would he be satiated until they saw each other again in the evening? Was it enough? Phoenix had been the one to allude to further steps, to delving deeper into pleasure. But the current actions smelt of finality.

That was, until a previous quip entered Phoenix’s brain, something said in passing but dripping with significance. He decided to inquire.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?”

“Did...did you say you weren’t finished with me?”

Miles stilled, a swath of crimson rolling across his cheeks. He kept his head down, hiding behind grey curtains once more.

“I suppose I did, yes.”

“You actually want to go further?”

“Don’t you?” Miles murmured, standing up to throw the tissues away.

“Ah, yeah, of course I do. I always do,” Phoenix said, mirroring Miles’ actions. When he had disposed of things, he opted to stand with a hand grasping his neck. “But you’re not bothered? My beloved workaholic wouldn’t worry?”

“Well, there’s always something to be done,” Miles said, venturing back towards Phoenix to loosely snake his hands around the small of his back. “But all the same, I can’t exactly pass you up.”

“You don’t have meetings or anything though?”

“I can guarantee you I don’t.”

“But that’s- wait.” Phoenix shifted in Miles’ embrace, starting like he did in court when a realization struck. “Don’t tell me you carved out space in your itinerary.”

He watched as Miles opened his mouth, only to be silenced by a new wave of warm blush. As the words died, he avoided eye contact. That alone was an answer, an easy deduction, effectively drawing a breathy laugh from Phoenix.

“Oh my God, you did. Miles, you literally made a dick appointment.”

Such a statement drew the monochromatic gaze back, but in the form of a glare. The angry crimson did nothing to help the rivaling laughs, effectively leading to Miles breaking away.

“Phoenix Wright, your crude terminology has me inclined to cancel.”

“Sorry!” Phoenix snickered, reaching to lace his hands around Miles’ neck and restart their embrace, “I’m just...so blown away. I never thought you’d want something like this.”

Miles heaved a sigh, averting his eyes once again as the blush turned gentler.

“Yes, well...wanting you to such a degree changes a lot.”

It was Phoenix’s turn to blush then. He couldn’t help but grin through the warmth, easing close enough for their noses to brush.

“I love you so much,” he murmured, nuzzling until he drew forth a ghost of a smile.

“I love you too.”

It was only natural that the pair kissed, slower and more purposeful than their previous advances. Even with deeper intimacy on the horizon, even with lecherousness hanging over their heads, their lips only glided and caressed.

“What about you?” Miles softly asked when they broke apart, “Nothing going on at the agency?”

“Nah. I’m sure the kids will keep everything in working order.”

“Mm...”

Phoenix’s brows furrowed slightly when Miles looked away, scanning his sharp features for discomfort. He couldn’t quite decipher, so he reached up with a hand, framing Miles’ jaw and stroking with his thumb.

“Hey, we really don’t have to continue if you don’t want to though. Don’t pressure yourself. If there’s any doubt, we can wait until we’re home.”

“No, that’s...” Miles sighed, the color in his cheeks intensifying further. “...I do. This morning, I couldn’t stop envisioning...”

Even though he trailed off, the underlying meaning was apparent. Brown and blue eyes flashed, coupled with the room twinging with a new burst of heat.

“So all of this wasn’t enough, hmm?”

“It was extraordinary, but...”

Phoenix smirked, easing close again. The vice of desire tightened around them, beckoning his lips to that stunning neck once more. He hummed and kissed a trail, already feeling sparks venturing downward.

“...But you want me inside you too,” he whispered against sweet skin, sealing the statement with a nip.

The salacious words and actions prompted another shiver. Phoenix’s grin only intensified, coupled with the frequency of his bites.

“It’s incredibly crass, I know,” Miles eventually said, his voice strained as he shifted beneath the touches.

“It’s amazing is what it is. And perfect because...I want you too. God, I want you so bad.”

Phoenix latched his mouth onto sweet skin something proper then, biting and sucking. He was intent on making a mark, both literally and figuratively, driving his point completely in. Said motives were made worse by a moan gracing his ears, the noise hammering in his claim.

“Phoenix...”

The subsequent grin broke the heated connection. He leaned back to admire, humming at the reddish blotch that seemed to saturate in real time. But though they stood together in the flames, though he could still taste Miles upon his tongue, though their bodies had started to sing once more, he couldn’t help but inquire one last time.

“You’re sure?”

Heated eyes softened, Miles reaching to cup Phoenix’s face.

“I’m sure,” he murmured, before sighing and looking away, “Lest you depart and my thoughts...drift once again.”

“Maybe those infernal physiological processes aren’t so bad after all...” Phoenix snickered, his hands drifting to mirror the frame.

“Mm...”

The pair smiled, before easing to close the space between them. Lips initially brushed in a tender kiss, but quickly intensified to something far more molten. Starving mouths gaped, and thirsting hands wandered. As Phoenix plunged downward towards a particular prize however, as hands grasped burgundy curves, concentration was severed once more.

“Ahh, shit,” Phoenix hissed.

“What is it?”

“You don’t...happen to have any supplies, do you?”

“Bottom drawer...towards the back.”

The instruction sent Phoenix off without hesitation initially. He broke away towards the specified destination, bending down to fish for the desired bottle. Upon grasping it though, a lightbulb suddenly popped forth; he couldn’t help but smirk as he processed the location, the readiness.

“D-don’t you say a word, Wright. Just grab it.”

It was like Miles had peered into his cheeky thoughts. That, or he had spied the budding mischievousness on his face. Either way, it made Phoenix snicker once more, standing up and biting back wry comments.

“And wipe that grin off your face,” Miles huffed.

“Do it for me.”

Silver eyes narrowed, but Miles complied, surging forward to lock them in a hungry kiss. Hands from both parties began to wander, groping and attempting to make purchase. Miles’ fingers curled through ebony locks, whereas Phoenix’s hands framed his favorite jawline. The pair moaned through the rougher advances, heat surging and dancing betwixt them.

It certainly wasn’t a bad way to allow their bodies to catch back up.

The swirling warmth prompted Phoenix further. His hands drifted downwards, grasping Miles’ collar and giving a beckoning tug. Miles understood at once, breaking the kiss and panting against rival lips. Phoenix took advantage of the pause, moving to remove his own jacket. He was simply going to shrug it off, to opt for a quick discard, but a pair of hands interjected. He looked on with mild confusion as Miles guided the fabric off, dutifully holding instead of dropping. It was when he meticulously hung it off the back of his chair that things clicked for Phoenix.

“Priorities,” he laughed.

“You’ll thank me later when your jacket isn’t a crumpled mess,” Miles said, repeating the actions with his own, “We’re going to be conspicuous enough already.”

Phoenix snorted, but the amusement did little to slow him. The moment Miles pivoted back to face him, he pounced, locking them back in a kiss as fingers worked at golden buttons. The action drew forth a whimper, but Miles seemed undeterred as well. He too, reached through the passion for Phoenix’s waistcoat, unbuttoning whenever he could manage. The pair worked through the layers of fabric, brushing the coats aside and finally reaching the undershirts. Phoenix could almost curse at their fashion choices, acting as a barrier of sorts against their fire. Instead though, his mind grew giddily woozy, what with the prospect of more beautifully exposed skin on the horizon. He hurried then, desperately working at buttons to remove the last block.

When he finally got it open, when he finally parted the fabric for his ardent eyes, he couldn’t help but break away to stare. Hands reached to follow his gaze, caressing the awaiting chest. The pair shivered at the exchange, but Phoenix was inclined to go further. Wandering fingers drifted to Miles’ dusky nipple, encircling the area before pinching lightly. The resulting gasp drew forth a smirk and magnetized lips to skin.

Phoenix kissed a trail across taut pectorals, humming at the sparks buzzing betwixt their bodies. Just as before, the gorgeousness bewitched him, leading him to lick and bite a plenty. He encircled Miles’ nipple with his tongue, long enough for trembling fingers to thread his hair. If they decided to tug, he would appropriately respond, nipping until a whimper was earned.

Eventually though, his own body grew impatient, beckoning him to press forward. He leaned back to eye his work, grinning at the beauty and marks alike.

“God, I love you. You and your body both.”

“I love you too. Though, did I not say I wished to see you as well?”

“You did, but...I’m not quite finished.”

Motions from earlier were repeated, Phoenix reaching to undo belt and slacks alike. Unlike before though, it was with the intention to completely remove; fingers grasped all matters of fabric, tugging until everything was pulled downward. Burgundy and boxers pooled at Miles’ feet, and Phoenix stooped to follow. He took a moment to remove Miles’ dress shoes and socks, before the other constraints were guided off and away.

Upon easing back to his knees, Phoenix found himself at eye level with the most desirable part of all. It was engorging once more, and already beading with pre-cum. As a result, he couldn’t help himself; he reached to give a tugging stroke or two, before he eased to kiss the awaiting moisture away. Miles’ groan almost coaxed him to pleasure further, but he ceased- though not without licking up the entirety of the beautiful length.

He kissed his way back upwards, murmurs of praise coiling on his tongue. The moment he was standing though, said murmurs were immediately hushed, Miles’ demanding mouth finding his. The two fell victim to yet another heated kiss, moans reverberating through the space. Before Phoenix could caress further, Miles raced for his turn. He deftly unbuttoned Phoenix’s undershirt, and caressed bare skin the instant it was offered. Phoenix couldn’t help but release a whimper for Miles to swallow, the touch trailing sparks across his own chest.

He expected actions to parallel, to mirror. But it seemed desperation was at the forefront; he smiled as Miles jumped right to his blue slacks, hurrying to free him once more.

“So ready for me...” Phoenix purred into swollen lips.

“Have been since the moment you embedded yourself into my thoughts...”

Such words flared nostrils, stuttered breaths, and stoked new fires of determination. He sighed as Miles removed him from fabric constraints once more, but when Miles pulled back and hesitated- perhaps to admire, Phoenix jumped at the opportunity. Clothing didn’t need to come fully off after all. Entire exposure wasn’t necessary. They had everything they needed, with a few conspicuous shields to match.

So he grabbed ivory hips, pivoting Miles around and ignoring the sharp gasp. A beckoning nudge was given, gesturing for Miles to bend over the desk before them. To his utmost delight, Miles did so without delay or argument, reclining and beautifully displaying. Though a new desperation was indeed gnawing within, Phoenix couldn’t help but appreciate the sight.

“I’ll never be able to get over how gorgeous you are.”

“Hmm...” Miles hummed, propping himself up on his elbows, “Coming from the most magnificent man...”

“Says the one who’s insanely irresistible.”

“Objection- ah!”

Arguments were severed by touches; Phoenix’s fingers squeezed the offered cheeks, before easing to simply caress.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“You’re playing dirty, Wright,” Miles said, huffing and shifting against the contact.

“Well yeah, I would hope so. I’ll keep this method in mind for the next time you’re getting too sassy in court.”

“Yes, because they surely wouldn’t hold you in contempt whatsoever- ungh!”

Again were vocals stolen by a squeeze. Phoenix grinned, going so far as to offer a light whap before chuckling over the following gasp.

“Worth it.”

He kneaded the doughy flesh with his fingers, marveling at the sounds such an action earned. Every moan and whimper resonated directly between his legs, slowly coaxing his erection back to totality. He wasn’t quite sure how Miles wanted to proceed, how Miles wanted to be taken, but oh, how tempted he was to simply pound him then and there.

His beloved beginning to whine coaxed Phoenix towards the next steps. He reached for the bottle of neglected lube, popping it open and smirking at how Miles hummed at the sound. Generously, he coated his fingers, before transferring some to his still-swelling length. He stroked and readied with trembling sighs, before reaching for the desired entrance.

The second Phoenix brushed upon puckered skin, their breaths caught, tangling in the new tension gripping the room. Around he rubbed in tantalizing circles, ghosting upon the area in preparation. With how Miles squirmed, Phoenix expected to be implored, to be begged. Instead, he was stunned to watch as Miles reached back with a hand, prying and spreading himself open. It was a miracle Phoenix didn’t leap to sheath himself then and there.

He instead shakily inhaled, and poised a single finger to proceed. Consent had already been given. Approval had already been spoken. But even still, did Phoenix double check, holding steadily in place.

“Ready?”

He smirked when it seemed like Miles’ body did the talking, what with his pelvis titling a bit closer. Such an expression warmed all the more when shaky vocals joined the mix.

“Yes. Please.”

Through the muscular resistance he finally pushed then. Phoenix couldn’t help but hum at the tight warmth which awaited, the noise beautifully melding with the opposing moan. He eased in only to his knuckle at first, closely watching Miles for signs of discomfort. But when he only spied breathless pleasure, when he only spied a silent ask for more, did he insert his finger in completely. He allowed Miles a small respite, giving the muscles time to adapt and relax. The moment the tension eased, Phoenix began to move, slowly jutting in and out in a salacious pattern.

Mismatched eyes scanned meticulously, lecherously. He eagerly drank in every sigh, every quivering moan. If Miles seemed to react more to a certain area being stroked, Phoenix would fixate on the spot, jutting until hips quivered beneath his touch. He knew the workings of his partner after all. He knew what he liked, how he ticked. So when that gorgeously stoic body began to tremble, Phoenix went further, slipping a second finger into the mix.

“Phoenix...” Miles sighed, his tone coated with delicious enjoyment, “Yes...”

The praise fueled him, warming both his groin and his expression. He thrust the pair deeply, before taking a few beats to explore the muscular walls. He swirled about rhythmically, before scissoring for that perfect stretch. He couldn’t help but groan at the sensations, at the sounds, at the torridity of it all. He worked for every little bit of pleasure, every sweet vocalization from Miles.

It seemed successful thus far; Miles was writhing against his perch, moaning against the advances. The further Phoenix stretched, the more his reactions intensified. Deeper thrusts seemed to coax his hips backwards, like they subconsciously sought more stimulation.

So Phoenix delivered without hesitation. He slipped a third and final finger in, marveling at how Miles’ back arched in response.

“Fuck...” he gasped, sending a new rush of blood straight to Phoenix’s crotch, “So good...”

Every movement earned a breathy moan then. Every thrust was met with an equal advance. And every jolt of Miles’ pelvis seemed to coax Phoenix’s similarly. He needed more. They both needed more.

Phoenix reached deeply for that sweet inner spot, stroking until Miles began to whimper something terrible. But then, he abruptly pulled out, drawing a sharp gasp into the heated space. It was not without cause; he reached for the lube once more, intent on slicking and readying his erection.

“Ph-Phoenix...”

The mewl made him smirk through his preparation, smiling despite the grunts and sighs from touching himself.

“I won’t keep you waiting, baby. You’ve waited long enough.”

Biting his lip, he nestled himself into the constricted space, teasing his head against the awaiting entrance. The pair vocalized at the sensation, Phoenix groaning and Miles whining. But right before he proceeded, right before he could venture inward, Miles gasped with further conversation.

“Phoenix.”

Before he could even question the sharper tone, Miles released his grip on himself, effectively closing off proper access. In the pause he seemed to be taking to steady himself, to catch his breath, Phoenix couldn’t help but buzz with alarm.

“What is it?”

Miles inhaled deep lungfuls of air, before standing and pivoting to face Phoenix. Mismatched eyes were spellbound, immediately drawn downward to the enticing sight between pale legs. Despite their previous ventures, Phoenix was pleased to see that Miles was plenty hard once more- though, the relief was short lasted. Had he done something wrong?

“Sweeth-“

“-I love you,” Miles blurted, rushed and unexpected, “You’ve done everything and more, as you always do. It’s high time you simply sit back and enjoy.”

Before returned sentiments could even poise on his tongue, Phoenix found himself getting dragged across the room, stumbling as he was tugged by his hand. His aroused mind buzzed with confused static, unable to process the new turn of events. That was, until he spied where Miles was headed, where he was being lead to.

The pair of plush couches. A luxurious seat. A location entirely fitting for a different position.

“Oh...” Phoenix breathed, coming to the realization through his buffers, “That’s...”

“Phoenix.”

“R-right!”

As desperate as he was, as they both were, he rambled no further, nor did he try and argue. He simply assumed the new position, seating himself on the edge of velvety fabric. The moment heterochromatic eyes locked with fiery silver, he gave himself a presenting stroke.

“I’m yours how you want.”

Miles was on him immediately, gripping Phoenix’s shoulders and straddling his toned legs. Phoenix expected him to lower immediately, to aggressively ride the moment they were situated. Instead, to his surprise, did further honeyed words fall from his tongue.

“I do believe I’m the luckiest man in the world...” Miles said, aligning himself just so.

“Objection- believe that title belongs to-“

Argument and breath alike were stolen by Miles nestling close, positioning to proceed. Phoenix could almost laugh at how Miles turned his own tactics against him, what with hushing words with arousing actions. But he found himself too shaken, merely reaching to steady his shaft with a hand. He groaned as Miles gripped his shoulders tighter, and as cheeks enveloped his awaiting length.

There was the slightest bit of resistance, the smallest amount of give. Before suddenly, Miles engulfed him, sliding down and easing them into full penetration. Colors flashed in Phoenix’s vision, the feeling of connecting so deeply with his partner absolutely unprecedented. He couldn’t help but moan his approval, his hands flying for purchase on Miles’ body. It took all of his self control not to immediately lose it, biting his lip as Miles sunk further and further.

It seemed Miles had been holding his breath, for he released a groaning exhalation the moment he completely took Phoenix in. The pair panted and moaned, savoring the closeness and allowing each other to adjust. Phoenix nestled against Miles’ bare front, hissing quiet expletives with equally soft kisses to match.

“God...fuck...you feel so good...”

“You’re perfect, Phoenix...Utterly...perfect...”

“Love you...” Phoenix breathed, brushing beneath hanging fabric to get a good grip on Miles’ hips.

“Love you.”

And with that, did Miles begin to move, surely readied to chase what he had desired all day. Phoenix watched with thirsting eyes as Miles eased up, before slowly plunging downwards once more. The two moaned from the passes, the stretches, before Miles truly began to ride. He took Phoenix deeply, and rocked his pelvis with reckless abandon.

Phoenix looked on in awe, mesmerized as Miles undulated and threw his head back. Phoenix’s breaths were beginning to dance with moans, matching the grunting efforts sounding from his partner. The familiar fire was already starting to burn in his abdomen from such advances, his entire lower half alight with sensations. But he wasn’t about to finish quickly this time- not until he ensured Miles’ utmost satisfaction.

This was for him. This was all for him.

So he tossed care to the side, and began to meet, began to guide. With a tight grip on moving hips, he coaxed Miles towards bounces, so that he could properly mirror thrusts. Phoenix jerked his hips upward every time Miles bore down, deepening the stroke again and again. It seemed to have an immediate effect, Miles’ head lulling back even further.

“Ah!” he gasped, “Fuck...Phoenix, t-that’s-“

A tighter grip on Miles’ hips angled him forward, just that perfect little amount to beautifully graze the treasured spot within. Phoenix relished the obscenely loud moan such a shift earned, groaning himself as it instantly resonated in his groin.

“Fuck, Miles...God.”

He thrust upwards even harder, racing against his own body and Miles’ building speed. The office became a lecherous cacophony then, what with Miles keening, Phoenix grunting, and their connection squelching. It was music to Phoenix’s ears, utterly captivating and everything he wanted. Though, he still aimed to take Miles even higher, to draw forth uncontrolled noises as he unraveled.

“Phoenix, I’m...I’m close...Please, Phoenix, I-“

That was all he needed. Despite the burn in his pelvis, the tension in his stomach, the soreness in his legs, he strained to give Miles that last burst of pleasure. He continued to thrust, but reached with a shaky hand, intent on addressing Miles’ neglected erection. He grasped tightly as they both continued to move, tugging and jerking as best he could.

Any attempt at talking quickly turned into a jumble of moans and shallow gasps of air. But the moment Miles crested, the moment his orgasm tightly grasped his body, one thing still managed to ring loud and true.

“Phoenix!”

The cry echoed throughout the space and resonated deep within Phoenix’s mind. He felt warmth streaking against his hand and abdomen. He tugged until cries shifted more towards whines and dry sobs. And that was it; the flames had breached the last wall of control.

Throwing his hands back to Miles’ hips, he slammed him downward and came hard, bursting deep within. His head careened over the back of the sofa, moaning the beautiful opposing name through every intense peak.

“Miles! Miles!”

He jerked, pulsed, and emptied himself entirely into the cramped space. When Miles collapsed against him in blissful exhaustion, he too, melted in dreamy fatigue. The moment he stepped down from his climax, the moment he floated back down to Earth, he sagged back against the couch, something of ecstatic jelly.

The room was nothing but deep, slowing breaths then. After a few moments, Miles eased upwards and broke their connection with a soft moan, before easing to carefully settle atop bare skin. Phoenix could feel dewiness betwixt them, and could feel moisture leaking against his thigh. But he paid the sensations no mind; all he wished to do was marvel in his partner that much more.

He snaked his hands around Miles’ back, venturing beneath his ruffled clothing and holding him close. He softly caressed slick skin, before easing close to capture their lips in an exhausted kiss. Mouths lazily slid about, no glamour to the exchange as lips messily smushed. But when they were torn apart by panting huffs of air, did Miles finally find the wherewithal to speak once more.

“God...That...That was...”

“...The only way I’m choosing to spend my break from now on,” Phoenix finished with a breathy laugh. The mirth only intensified when Miles’ flushed expression turned incredulous, furrowing despite the streaks of red.

“You’re absolutely ridiculous...” he said, though twinkles of laughter were evident in his tone.

“Maybe. But you love me for it.”

“I suppose I do, yes. I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

Swollen lips connected once more, a bit more tender and composed. They kissed softly, sweetly, pouring all manner of adoration into the connection. Regardless, Miles seemed keen to articulate further once they broke.

“Speaking of ridiculousness, thank you, darling...”

“Hmm? For what?”

“For this! For...” Silver eyes flitted away, like they hadn’t just been caught up in extremely lewd acts. “...Tending to my...atrocious needs so.”

Phoenix couldn’t help but laugh, at the sight and notion alike. He reached up to brush damp grey strands back, before cupping Miles’ face.

“You’re not still caught up on that, are you?”

He snickered as Miles seemed to blush further, practically sinking against his hand.

“I plead the fifth.”

“Miles,” he laughed, angling for a quick peck before continuing. “I adore you, and will tend to you whenever you want. Atrocious needs, physiological processes, or whatever else gets you going- I’ll be there.”

“Phoenix...”

The murmur of disdain was hushed by yet another kiss. Through the sweet connection, and the honeyed lightness in his brain, thoughts gently drifted. Phoenix wanted to stay there forever, cuddled close and deliriously post-coital. He wanted to bathe his beloved in pleasure until neither of them could stand. He wanted to relish in his beautiful body and handsome soul. But with every passing minute, he became acutely aware of where they were, and the subsequent duties they both had. He almost sighed his disappointment against Miles’ mouth, knowing he did indeed have to get back to the agency sooner than later. Thankfully, his brain offered a solution, a solution that pried his mouth away with further snickers.

“Speaking of which, hope you’re ready for a repeat performance tonight.”

He laughed as silver eyes widened- even more so when hands playfully shoved his chest.

“I’m more than satisfied, you goon.”

He beamed, snorting and chuckling a plenty. Another jest manifested on his tongue, one that would surely earn another shove. But if it meant furthering the moment, and chasing after those “damn processes,” he was powerless to stop it.

“Alright alright. Same time tomorrow then?”

#Narumitsu #Narumitsu fanfiction #Narumitsu smut #Wrightworth #Wrightworth fanfiction #Wrightworth smut #Miles Edgeworth #Phoenix Wright #NC-17 #ANOTHER ONE DOWN ANOTHER ONE DOWN #I've been working on this one for a hot minute and was worried my motivation would inevitability die out #BUT NO LOL #HERE SHE IS #SHE MADE IT #And thank goodness because GOD I just wanted to make them drown in each other #I just wanted them to savor each other like they deserve #I will never EVER tire of having them love each other so SO hard #they're so taken by each other your honor

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emergencyexits · 1 year

Text

tag drop !

-> tracking

#the worst is not so long as we can say / verses #doubt the stars are fire; doubt that the sun moves / aesthetic #stars hide your fires; let not light see my black and deep desires / concepts #men were deceivers ever one foot in sea and one on shore / wishlist #so long lives this and this gives life to thee / character study #the breaking of so great a thing should make a greater crack / meme #the play's the thing wherein i'll catch the conscience of the king / ask #to die to sleep no more and by a sleep to say we end / visage #i am but mad north-north-west when the wind is southerly / promo #earthly power doth then show likest g-d's when mercy seasons justice / open #the evil that men do lives after them / closed #what win i if i gain the thing i seek? / starter call #listen all of y'all this is sabotage / music #we are resolved into the supreme air / ooc

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mikwrites-archive · 3 years

Text

like a movie.

pairing: lee juyeon x reader warnings: none genre: highschool au, football player ju, pining, ju is innocently shy, this is literally so cheesy its like a bad teen movie so read at your own discretion HWJBSJDF wc: 2.3k

a/n: hello !!! i am back and with a fic no one asked for and just ju brainrot n word vomit <3 a lot has been going on lately but i’ve broken my writers block mainly and hope to be back posting soon hehe !!! i hope you’re all doing well <3

Summer was over, and suddenly you found yourself forced back into living.

Or dying.

When you’re in your last year of high school, it’s difficult to tell the difference, though the presence of your best friend Kevin makes it all the more bearable.

Sometimes.

“Have you seen Juyeon?”

“No.” You pointedly give Kevin a look as you fiddle with your locker, and he holds his hands up defensively.

“I was just asking! Everyone’s been talking about how he glowed up in the summer. And you know how he doesn’t post much online, but I don’t see why people are suddenly surprised. Juyeon’s always had good looks. But I guess it’s like you magically become hot when you’re on the football team or something.” Kevin sighs, and you muffle your laughter.

“Stop talking so loud!”

“What? Afraid that someone will hear?” Kevin wiggles his eyebrows. “That J-Juyeon, hey!”

“Kevin, that’s not funny, I swear-” the words die in your throat as you turn to see Kevin very much standing beside Juyeon. He wasn’t wrong when he said Juyeon’s always possessed a dreamy visage; you remember clearly in elementary school whenever he was in your classes, how many students would vy for his attention, and as much as you wished to as well, you’d always shyly skirted around the competition as Kevin jokingly put it.

You’re quick to bury your face back into your locker as you place your belongings and books as slowly as you can while they converse.

“How was your summer?” Juyeon asks, and just hearing his voice makes your face flush, flustered.

“Good! We,” Kevin grabs your arm playfully, and you cringe, clutching the locker door to continue hiding, and Kevin relents. “Had lots of fun! How was yours?”

They converse casually for a few more (excruciatingly long) minutes, until someone else calls Juyeon over, and leaves you back with Kevin.

“So?” What did you think?” Kevin smirks. “Do you agree? You barely looked at him, maybe I should call him back over-”

You punch his arm, hard, while swinging your bag over your shoulder, and Kevin cackles despite the pain you inflicted on his arm.

“You better sleep with one eye open tonight, Moon.”

“Saw you talking to Kevin and you know who earlier.” Hyunjae nudges Juyeon in the ribs, as they walk to the football field, grinning as Juyeon shies away embarrassedly.

“Just Kevin. I don’t think they wanted to talk to me.”

Hyunjae is silent, thinking, before he speaks up again carefully. “Y’know, for someone as handsome as you are Ju, you’re pretty easy going.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Juyeon, someone asked you to marry them back in elementary school and you just said okay.”

“What else was I supposed to say?”

“No?”

“Okay, fine. But I don’t see what this has to do with anything right now.” Juyeon huffs.

“You’ve liked them for years now. But I mean… you’ve barely even tried to tell them.”

“Maybe I will.” Juyeon replies defensively, and Hyunjae tries to hide his smile as Juyeon stalks off, annoyed by his friend’s insinuations.

“Did it actually work?” Changmin sidles up to Hyunjae once Juyeon is out of earshot, and he grins, shrugging.

“No idea. We’ll just have to see.”

“So mean.” Changmin snorts. “Making him upset to chase after them finally.”

“Hey! He needed a little push, and I gave it to him.” Hyunjae exclaims seriously, and Changmin shrugs, chuckling.

“Better hope it works.”

“Kevin, I’m not gonna fight you over this again, you already know that I-”

So absorbed in your conversation with Kevin, you aren’t paying any attention to what’s going on in the grassy field that you both walk across to access the shorter route home until it’s too late.

“Watch out!”

The shout comes closer than you’d like, and you barely have time to turn and determine the source before you’re tackled to the ground.

Hands come to shield the back of your head, arms caging you in, and you can only squeak as you hit the grass, eyes shut.

“Are you okay?”

Concerned eyes peer down at you as you crack open your own, eyes that were all too familiar.

Lee Juyeon.

You can see Kevin in the corner of your eye, biting on his fist as he’s torn between horror, concern, satisfaction, and excitement. You can hear the football team getting closer, Changmin already stooping to pick up the ball in close proximity to you.

“You couldn’t have just tried to catch the ball instead of tackling them to the ground, Ju?” Sangyeon snorts, and Juyeon flushes.

“Uh, right. But I didn’t want to crash into you, so I thought...” he trails off, scratching the back of his head as he lifts himself up, and you follow quickly.

In your haste, you’re almost blindly scrambling upwards, resulting in knocking heads with Juyeon, a resound thunk that has everyone wincing.

He yelps, flopping to the side, and you clutch your head with one hand and Kevin’s extended one with the other, stammering apologies as you absolutely make a run for it.

Juyeon doesn’t move, eyes blankly staring at the sky, as the team peers at him, grinning.

“Nice one, Ju.” Hyunjae chuckles, and Juyeon groans.

“Shut up.”

“Is your head okay?”

“For the third time Kev, yes, I’m fine!” You laugh as he hands you another ice pack worriedly. “It’s just a little sore.”

“I can’t believe he caught you like that, you should’ve seen it.” Kevin snorts after a few moments of silence pass. “It was like a romance movie.”

“I should’ve stayed to see if he was okay, but everyone was staring.” You sigh, and he pats your head comfortingly.

“Don’t worry, I asked Changmin and he said that Juyeon’s alright. Aren’t you lucky you have such a wonderful best friend who has all these connections?”

“You’re just as awkward as I am, don’t try to fool me.”

“Yeah, but…” Kevin hesitates, and you look over at him curiously, urging him to continue. “You’re sometimes too scared to get over being awkward, y’know? And then that means you don’t get out there as much, or have that many friends, or-”

“Okay, I get it.” You snort. “But I don’t see how Juyeon has anything to do with this.”

“Because you’ve liked him since elementary school, dummy.” He rolls his eyes dramatically as you pout. “And we’re almost done with high school. I think you should tell him.”

“Easier said than done.” You sigh. “You think everything’s like the movies Kev.”

“Oh honey, you’re the main character of your own life, so it might as well be a movie to make it more fun.” He snickers as you roll your eyes. “Okay, then at least talk to him without running away?”

“I don’t run away.”

Kevin glares at you.

“You refused to go to that new ice cream shop over the summer with me because he worked there! And you always excuse yourself to go to the bathroom whenever we bump into him in public, and after today at the football field, do you need me to go on?”

“No… but I don’t know how to talk to him.” You whine, and Kevin smiles triumphantly.

“That’s why you’ll be coming with me this weekend to the arcade. All the boys will be there.”

“Did you plan this?” You glare, and Kevin gasps in a way that answers your question.

“Never!”

“Sure.” You grumble sarcastically, though not denying his eager offer, and Kevin smiles.

When the weekend comes, you couldn’t be more nervous.

You tell yourself it’ll be easy enough, eleven of them total, and only one of them you had to subtly avoid. Yet somehow you seemed to always end up beside or in close proximity to him (due to the proud teammates of his).

“Sorry about the other day.” Juyeon offers meekly as you’re all entering the arcade, and you laugh awkwardly.

“It’s alright. Thanks for uh, catching me.”

“No… no problem.”

“I, uh,” you try not to choke on your saliva as you realize how close Juyeon is walking beside you. Being a large group, it was instinct to pack together in places you couldn’t all roam around. His hand brushes against yours, and it’s for a split second that your fingers link together before Kevin excitedly points you towards the claw machine.

“I saw that.” Chanhee sighs sympathetically, patting Juyeon on the shoulder, and he all but wilts, running a hand through his hair. “Try winning them something from the claw machine maybe. Kevin sucks at it.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Juyeon murmurs, but Chanhee knows he’s discouraged, despite his pure attempt.

“C’mon, I’ll go make Sunwoo buy us slushies.”

As Juyeon walks with Chanhee, he doesn’t notice your glances at him.

“Why do you look so shaken up?” Kevin blinks as he finally notices your wide eyes as he tears his gaze away from the stuffed prizes.

“I think… I think Juyeon tried to hold my hand.”

“He what?” Kevin chokes, and you shush him.

“He tried, before you pulled me away to the claw machine, which you know you suck at!”

“Go back, oh my god, go back!”

“Go back where?” You hiss, and he thinks.

“I dunno! Pretend you want a stuffed animal prize really bad or something, that usually works in the movies!”

“This isn’t a movie!”

“You know what this means?” Kevin stares at you excitedly. “He likes you!”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” You flush, glancing around to make sure no one was in earshot of Kevin’s ecstatic voice. “Maybe he just accidentally did it.”

“I bet he’ll confess to you today.” Kevin announces surely, and you bite the inside of your cheek.

“Whatever you say, Kev.”

It was quite the contrary.

Instead, the rest of the day, Juyeon barely interacted with you, besides awkwardly stilted conversations in which Juyeon believed you didn’t like him, and you were just confused.

Juyeon’s ready to leave it all behind him until he walks into the locker room before practice a few days later.

“Juyeon.”

Slowing in his tracks, he scans his surroundings, each of his team members sitting solemnly on the benches, as if waiting for his arrival. He glances at the clock, seeing he wasn’t late to practice, and furrows his eyebrows.

“Y-Yes?” He answers reluctantly, feeling very much uncomfortable with their stares, a thin sheen of sweat breaking out on his skin.

“Sit down. We have something very important to tell you.”

He takes a seat next to Sangyeon who patted the empty space, looking back and forth warily at the surrounding boys.

“Juyeon, they like you.”

Juyeon sits there pensively, and everyone holds their breath.

“No.” He shakes his head, and everyone explodes at the one syllable.

“What do you mean no? We just told you!”

“I knew we should’ve made the PowerPoint, I knew it!”

“We’re not tricking you this time, it’s not a prank!”

“I just… I don’t see it. I mean, they always avoid me, or never say anything to me, and whatever I try to do, it never works.” Juyeon frowns, and the team deflates slightly.

For Juyeon’s innocence had multiple facets, both positive and negative; whether it was him using it to sweet talk his way out of an escalating situation, increasing his gullibility or easily upset emotions, or using it as a factor of his curiosity and hard work, it also often blinded him in the signals he received from others.

“Juyeon, they’re just nervous to be around you! Like how you are with them!” Eric explains, agreement rising in the room.

“So you’re saying since they like me… they keep avoiding me?” Juyeon squints.

A pause ensues as they puzzle his words together.

“Yeah, basically.”

The dubious expression still lingers and Sunwoo gets up, sighing.

“Alright then, let’s make a bet.”

Juyeon raises an eyebrow.

“Fine. I’m listening.”

“Well, that was a fail.”

“I thought we could win!” Sunwoo pouts, and the team groans.

“It was a good try.” Changmin laughs, and Juyeon smiles. Sunwoo had bet the success of their football game upon Juyeon’s confession, only to lose by three points.

“It’s okay. I’m gonna tell them anyways.”

“Huh?” Sunwoo blurts confusedly. “But you won?”

“I know.” Juyeon grins sheepishly. “But I can't help thinking maybe you guys were right, since you’ve never steered me wrong before, and I can at least try to tell them.”

“Took you long enough. All this work to make yourself sound like a cool teen movie protagonist.” Hyunjae snorts, and Juyeon flushes as everyone laughs.

“Let us know how it goes!”

Kevin sends you a text to meet him at the football field, telling you he’d forgotten his sweater there, and amidst your cursing at your friend at his forgetful mind, you almost don’t realize the figure waiting for you isn’t Kevin.

“I like you.” Juyeon blurts, and you blink, not having any time to say anything.

“I- what?”

“I’ve liked you ever since that day in elementary school when I fell and you gave me a Hello Kitty bandaid because I was bleeding.”

You remember that day, shaky hands handing over the emergency bandage you kept in your bag as Juyeon accepted it thankfully, giving you a charmingly toothy smile that had your heart fluttering.

“I honestly don’t really know what I’m saying right now, I had a plan but I can’t really remember it now, so I-”

“Juyeon.” You cut him off, and his mouth snaps shut. “Breathe.”

He inhales. Exhales. You do the same to bolster yourself.

“I… I like you too.” You admit, and silence falls for a few moments before Juyeon laughs.

It’s a laugh he can’t hold back, bubbling up in his chest, and you find yourself joining him.

“What… what do we do now?” He gasps between giggles, and you’re wiping at your watery eyes with an airy shrug.

“Go on a date, losers!” A voice shouts down, and both of you look at the bleachers, where everyone stood up, cheering. “Kiss!”

“Were you guys there the entire time?” Juyeon calls out, and you shake your head embarrassedly at their reply.

“Duh!”

#lee juyeon x reader #lee juyeon imagines #juyeon imagines #juyeon x reader #tbz imagines #tbz x reader #the boyz imagines #the boyz x reader #the boyz x you #tbz x you #lee juyeon fluff #juyeon fluff #juyeon fanfic

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the-last-kenobi · 3 years

Note

For BTHB "Halucinations" with Obi-wan on Zigoola?

@coalmine301 you do delight my whump-loving heart. Sorry this took so long!

tw for mental breakdown, ptsd, graphic injury, self harm, and torture.

Zigoola was not a place.

At least, it was not only a place. Not anymore.

The power of the Force, honed and used and washed over a place over time, eventually causes great change.

The Jedi Temple was not merely a building, after all, but a beacon of peace and light for all who could feel it. Its bones ran deep with power, layers upon layers of light.

It was the way of the Light to be fortitude, to be patience, to be serenity, forgiveness, humility.

It was the way of the Dark to be recklessness, to be rage, to be thrill, to be destruction, consumption, emotion.

And Zigoola was Dark.

Dark indeed.

And when Obi-Wan Kenobi left that hellish planet, secure in the worried arms of Bail Organa and Padmé Amidala...

Zigoola followed him home.

: : : : :

Anakin and Ahsoka returned from their most recent campaign flushed with triumph and eager to share the bragging stories all the men did, with bravado and cheer to help cover for the losses met and the sacrifices made.

They returned when most of Obi-Wan’s external injuries had been washed away by bacta.

“Hey, Master,” Anakin greeted him, stretching luxuriously as he swaggered into their quarters. He always called him Master when he was worried about him. “Heard you got roughed up on a mission. What happened?”

His eyes were overly keen. He had seen that Obi-Wan is (is?) fine, and now he wanted to know why secrets were being kept.

How dare they send his Master alone on some secret mission?

How dare they allow him to be harmed because Anakin wasn’t there beside him?

“We met with some turbulence,” Obi-Wan said calmly, carefully turning in his chair in a way that showed Anakin his face while casting the still-pink burn on one side hidden by shadow, in a way that didn’t put pressure on his bad leg. (Worse leg.) “I’m all right. Bacta still smells as unpleasant as I recall.”

Anakin chuckled. He came to sit on a nearby chair, kicking his booted feet in the air.

“Anakin,” sighed Obi-Wan. He shifted again. Just a little. Just to keep his face out of direct light. “Please, sit properly?”

“This is properly,” his former apprentice teased. He flipped around so that his feet were off the back of the chair and his head was on the floor. “A chair is for getting off your feet and being comfy. I’m off my feet. I’m comfy. So this is totally proper.”

Obi-Wan muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “graceless ass.”

Anakin launched a cup coaster at him with the Force.

: : : : :

Obi-Wan woke suddenly in the dead of night.

It was pitch black in his room, but he could sense Anakin leaning over him as clearly as if he could see him.

“‘N’kin?” he mumbled.

Anakin shifted closer to the bed. “Yeah. Obi-Wan... what’s going on?”

“What?”

“You were screaming,” his friend said slowly. “In your sleep.”

Obi-Wan flushed, grateful that the darkness hid his face from view. “Oh. I’m sorry. You know how disturbed the Force is these days, especially here on Coruscant. I must have...”

“No,” Anakin cut across him. “It wasn’t like that. What aren’t you telling me?”

“It’s nothing, Anakin.”

“It’s not nothing.”

Obi-Wan sighed and shifted in his bed, tugging the sheets up higher, shielding himself from the chill of the room. “It is, Anakin. I’m sorry I disturbed you, but—”

“It’s not nothing,” said Anakin in a low voice. “If it was nothing you wouldn’t have lived. Why did you live?”

Obi-Wan’s heart stopped. “What?”

“Why did you live?” demanded Anakin’s voice. The dark presence beside him seemed to suddenly swell, filling the entire room, sucking out all the air. “Why didn’t you die, Jedi?”

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan said hoarsely, starting to sit upright.

Two hands caught him forcefully and shoved him back down, pinning him on his back. The bedsheets suddenly felt suffocating; his limbs were tangled in them hopelessly as he began to kick and struggle.

No matter how hard he thrashed, the hands held him firmly.

Obi-Wan opened his mouth - to question, to beg, to scream - something - but more hands came out of the blackness and closed around his throat, cutting off his voice before he could do more than let out choked cry.

The darkness remained, but somehow, Anakin’s snarling face came into view, illuminated in red as if by fire.

“You should have died on Zigoola,” he sneered. “Die, Jedi.”

And he snapped Obi-Wan’s neck.

: : : : :

Anakin meandered up the hallway, chasing a feeling.

It happened sometimes. The Force just prodded and poked with no clarity whatsoever.

He spotted a familiar figure at the end of the hallway, standing next to a large window overlooking the western horizon of Coruscant. Anakin knew long before he got close that it was Obi-Wan.

“Hey.”

The man didn’t move.

“Obi-Wan, Ahsoka wants to grab lunch at Dex’s before she sets out for her solo. You coming?”

He had his robe on, but it was wrapped tightly around him, and the hood was raised.

Anakin frowned and stepped closer. “Hey. Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan pulled his cloak even tighter around him. His head turned slightly. “Go ahead and say what you want to say,” his former Master muttered. “I won’t talk to you.”

Anakin looked as if he’d been slapped; the hand he had raised to touch the older man’s shoulder fell back to his side. “Fine,” he said curtly. “Whatever makes you happy I guess.”

He turned on his heel and stalked off, brimming with hurt and anger.

He was long gone before the Jedi by the window turned his head slowly to look where he had gone, a look of confusion on his face. “...Anakin?”

: : : : :

Night fell again.

Obi-Wan climbed slowly into bed, shaking like a leaf in a tempest. It took five tries - five - just to hoist himself onto his mattress and lay flat, his hands and feet trembling so badly that even his vision was vibrating.

His head began to pound.

Die, Jedi.

Die, Jedi, Die, Jedi, Die, Jedi Die Jedi Die Jedi Die-Jedi-Die-Jedi-Die-Jedi

DIE JEDI DIE—

Bail’s hands covering his. A flash of red. A flash of blue.

Obi-Wan clamped a palm over his mouth to contain the shriek of agony that exploded out of him.

His head - his leg—

Die Jedi

Bail was screaming—

Qui-Gon was reaching for him, then toppling backwards with a beam of red through his chest, his face frozen in a look of shock—

Die Jedi

Obi-Wan slammed his head against the headboard, screaming again into his hand.

“Obi-Wan!”

Anakin was standing over him again, and Obi-Wan curled away from him, clutching his wounded leg with one hand and covering his mouth with the other.

Anakin towered over him, tall, washed in the light streaming from the common area of their quarters—

Wait.

Anakin dropped to his knees, his expression almost frightened. “Obi-Wan! Obi-Wan, snap out of it!”

The older Jedi shuddered where he lay, digging his fingernails into his leg for a purchase on reality.

“Master,” Anakin begged. “Please talk to me!”

Obi-Wan reached further down his leg and shoved his fingertips into the open wound made by his own saber - but - but his fingers dug only into shallow scarring and the dull throbbing of still-healing tissue.

Zigoola.

Bail.

That injury.

It had all been... weeks ago. Weeks and weeks.

His former student knelt next to him, one hand clinging to the bedclothes, clearly wanting to comfort his Master but wary of frightening him further.

“...Anakin?” Obi-Wan whispered around his hand. His voice was small and cracked, a child’s voice after a night terror. “A-Anakin?”

The younger man exhaled shakily, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah. It’s me, Master. Listen. Obi-Wan, you have to let go of your leg... and your face... you’re hurting yourself, all right? Just let go.”

Obi-Wan stared at him.

Anakin stared back, half-stern, half-begging.

After a moment, Obi-Wan obeyed.

He released his leg gingerly, and felt only the residual pain of his slow-healing stab wound and the sharp imprints of his own fingernails.

Then he removed his hand from over his mouth.

His howl of anguish when a red blade pierced Anakin from behind tore through the room, and died into terrified dry sobbing when Anakin fell dead to the floor, his young face painted with shock.

: : : : :

“Master Kenobi!”

Obi-Wan ignored it.

Whoever it was would get his attention more forcefully, real or otherwise. He had no choice but to accept it, but delaying, delaying he could do.

“Master Kenobi! Obi-Wan Kenobi, have you lost your hearing?”

A middle-aged Twi’lek with bold blue skin shouldered her way in front of him; her expression was fierce, but her eyes and the hand she pressed against his chest to stop him were exceedingly gentle. “Obi-Wan?” she repeated.

“Master Che,” he answered dully. “Can I help you?”

“I was about to ask you the same,” she returned, eyes narrowing with concern as she took in his wan visage. “Obi-Wan, your health is deteriorating. An apprentice Healer could tell that at a glance. Why didn’t you come to the Halls?”

“There’s no point,” he said. “It’s just lack of sleep. I’ll pull through.”

Her lekku twitched. “Lack of sleep, hm? That doesn’t explain the rapid weight loss, the new damage on your arms, or your eroding mental shielding...”

“I am fine, Vokara,” the youngest Councilor said sharply. “I won’t be forced into the Halls against my will. If something is really wrong, by all means, feel free to scrape me off the pavement.”

He walked away with his hands folded in his sleeves. His head was bowed.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” the Healer murmured, and picked up her comm unit. “Skywalker. We need to have a conversation. Your Master’s last mission is classified on a need-to-know basis. And you need to know.”

: : : : :

Anakin entered their shared rooms cautiously this time.

The lights were off, save a few small illuminators scattered around the room, radiating soft warm light like candles. Obi-Wan’s robe was draped over the back of the chair, and his boots were set neatly on a mat against the wall, a contrast to Anakin’s, which could usually be found in odd places like on a chair or next to the refrigerator unit.

His former Master’s door was closed.

Hardly daring to breathe, Anakin gently pushed it open.

He blinked, letting his eyes adjust to the deep darkness, and felt his breath hitch.

The bed was empty.

The sheets were tangled and strewn halfway across the floor, as if the occupant had been dragged away or had left in a panic.

Anakin sprang forward, his heart in his throat, as he noticed two things.

A black scorch mark in the floor, where a saber had struck it.

And Obi-Wan’s lightsaber lying discarded in the corner.

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin yelled. “No... no—Obi-Wan!”

: : : : :

Obi-Wan ran.

His vision was flickering like an old holo, flashes of different things all layered together - was he running over damp grass with Qui-Gon - or the polished floors of the Jedi Temple - or the cracked stone of a Sith Temple with Bail - or a strange fiery planet with bursts of lava and Anakin just out of reach - or —

He didn’t know.

He kept running, constantly changing direction as he registered obstacles and turns at the last second.

There was a tree in front of him. He veered left and smacked into a stone wall carved with Sith Runes.

The graven words burned red and fire lanced out at him, biting into his clothing and taking hold, setting him aflame.

Obi-Wan gasped. He stumbled backwards, trying desperately to peel the burning clothing off of him, hearing maniacal laughter echoing from the black corridors all around him, hearing the screams of the dying, the dead.

Someone grabbed him by the arm and he wheeled around, the fire vanishing inexplicably as Cody, wearing bloodstained armor but without his helmet, stumbled into his arms, gasping for air.

Before Obi-Wan could speak, Cody spat out a mouthful of blood and fell to his knees. His hands dragged the Jedi down with him. But when they hit the floor, it was only Obi-Wan, on his hands and knees in some corridor of the Temple, shuddering and crying.

Die Jedi Die Jedi Die Jedi Die Jedi Die Jedi Die

Die Jedi

DIE JEDI

Die

Jedi Die Jedi

Die

DIE JEDI DIE

Die

die

The voices in his head rose and coalesced.

Now the voices of the Sith and the voices of his past and the voices of the future and the voices of the dead were all in agreement—

DIE, JEDI

Obi-Wan reached out desperately for the Light.

There was only Darkness.

Die, Jedi, Die, Jedi

Qui-Gon, running ahead of him chasing a Sith across catwalks. Obi-Wan, desperately racing after him.

Qui-Gon turning at the last second, his verdant lightsaber running Obi-Wan through. The man smiled. Relieved. Pleased. “Die,” he said.

Anakin, ten years old, tentatively asking to spend the night in the same sleeping mat on a mission. Obi-Wan, gently pulling his apprentice into his arms. Waking up hours later with small hands wrapped around his throat and cutting off his air. The innocent face grinned. “Die.”

Ahsoka, dangling out the side of a crashing Y-wing, crying out in pain as her injured shoulder strained. Obi-Wan, diving to catch her hand before she could fall, lifting her back into the ship. Hugging her. And then she kicked him, hard, sending him flying out the door and to his death. She smiled after him. “Die.”

Where was the light?

Where?

...There.

A faint blur of light. A glow.

The feel of fresh air, defying the horrifying visions.

Obi-Wan fixed his eyes on the light, and jumped.

“...NO!”

Someone stopped him. Caught him violently around the waist and dragged him back, pulling him back into the shadows.

Obi-Wan wept, utterly spent.

“Obi-Wan!” a voice raged at him. “What were you doing? What were you even doing?!”

The Jedi only continued to weep silently, letting the strong arms haul him further away. He felt himself lowered to the ground, felt arms come around him in an embrace that felt restrictive.

“Talk to me! Dammit, Master, I need you to focus. Please! Come on, open your eyes properly. Look at me. Look at me.”

The voice became gentler as it went on. Warm and soothing, like the small fires they pitched in encampments, when it was safe to do things like that.

A gentle Force presence brushed against his mind.

It blew through the claws and thorns of Darkness like a hot wind - painful at first, and then calming.

Comforting.

Bright.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and found himself collapsed in Anakin’s arms, his friend looking down at him with a face twisted with fear and concern. They shifted a little into relief when he met Anakin’s blue eyes.

“...A-Ana...An’kin?” Obi-Wan asked, hardly daring to hope.

Anakin nodded fiercely. “Yeah. It’s me. Listen — we’re going to talk about this later. We’re going to fix this. I’m not going to leave you alone for a second, you hear me? We’ll stick together until this is over. But for now...”

He swallowed hard and looked up at the open balcony mere yards away, glowing innocently in the light of a Coruscant night, the only source of light in the long dark hallway.

“Let’s get you somewhere safe.”

Obi-Wan exhaled softly. “...All right.”

And then his eyes fluttered closed again, his head tilting to one side to rest against his Padawan’s shoulder. Anakin jolted slightly in alarm, but when he checked, he realized that his old Master was merely sleeping.

A proper sleep.

For the first time in Force knew how long.

Anakin sighed and stood up, carrying Obi-Wan in his arms. He was heavy, but still too light and too thin for Anakin’s liking.

The report from Master Che... Anakin bit the inside of his cheek hard to contain a curse, remembering the extensive list of injuries and repercussions the Healer had given him with her eyes full of uncharacteristic worry.

But it would be all right.

They’d handle it together.

They always had.

Always would.

Anakin paused at the end of the corridor and looked back. He held Obi-Wan a little tighter— remembering the moment he had come tearing up this same hall not five minutes before, just in time to see him - the man he had followed for twelve years, humorous and serene and kind and steady, his mentor, his best friend, almost his father, even closer to being a brother...

See him sobbing, stumbling blindly, preparing to leap over the edge of the balcony to his death.

Tormented and lured by the Dark Side.

Anakin forced himself to turn away once more and move his feet back home, holding the sleeping Obi-Wan with all his strength.

: : : : : : :

#bad things happen bingo #I write to make you upset #that’s it #that’s why #okay that’s an exaggeration but still #star wars #star wars fic #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #hurt comfort #this time with some actual comfort #zigoola #bail organa #long post

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rosyfingereddawnn · 3 years

Text

only the black rose (chapter 1)

pairing: jimmy page x layla porter (oc)

warnings: mature language (it’s fun, okay?) and some sexual references (nothing Too bad i don’t think!)

words: 2.7k

summary: in the blink of an eye, it’s 1975 and layla’s suddenly joining led zeppelin for their north american tour. throughout the chaos, the band take a liking to her, she builds friendships with the boys, and love blossoms. but all good things must come to an end.

author’s note: thank you @jimmys-zeppelin for encouraging me enough to actually post this :) this chapter is mostly just setting up the scene! i hope you enjoy :)

masterlist

playlist

not beta’d we die like me after posting this

----------

A song flows from the used turntable, beautiful sounds patched together in harmony, fills the oppressing silence, settling over the lone occupant of the quaint room like a well-worn blanket.

From under a mound of blankets, a head of disheveled mahogany curls is revealed. With an irritated groan, the covers are pulled back, and the stranger, a feminine silhouette against the morning light, rises from the bed and stretches, grumbling all the while. Mentions of ‘committing crimes against the sun’ can be heard as she dresses, and, as she leaves the room, the song plays on, filtering through the door left ajar. The running water from the room over mingles with the arresting notes of love that can be heard still, an elegant dance of grace and beauty.

“Fuck this…” A voice rings out, crackly from sleep, reminiscent of the records that the owner plays so often. Smelling of mint and a summer breeze, finally ready for the day, the stranger pads through the small flat, preparing for her daily commute to work. About to run out the door, she is reminded of the record that still sings it's lovely song. Confused at how the song started in the first place, a small hand still reaches out to lift the needle, and is met with sparks, punctuated with one final sentence before all goes black:

“I'd give anything to hear you say it one more time, that the universe was made just to be seen by my eyes.”

----------

“Excuse me, are you alright?” A loud voice and a soft touch are the first sensations that register upon waking up from what the stranger hoped to be a dream. “Hello? Miss?”

It was at that moment that the stranger realized she was being spoken to, and, visage a picture of fright, she finally responded.

“Um… Sorry, man. Must've hit my head or something.”

“Oh, Miss! Don’t try and sit up, you could be hurt! Do you know where you are? Or what happened?”

For the first time since waking up, the stranger takes in her surroundings, and finds them to be completely unfamiliar. Her confusion was once again interrupted by the man beside them. A middle-aged man of great height and stature, he was hulking. With dark thinning hair and an impressive beard to match, the man was intimidating, despite his soft touch and kind chestnut eyes. Perhaps sensing the unease of the Jane Doe beside him, the man smiled reassuringly.

“Miss, can I have your name? You don’t seem to be from around here, that accent of yours is a dead giveaway. I would like to at least get you looked at by a doctor, if you’re comfortable with that?”

“My name is Layla Porter, and yours?”

“Peter Grant.” The man replies, taking the woman by the arm and helping her stand, catching her when her legs refuse to cooperate immediately, making her stumble.

“I don’t remember what happened… One minute I was running late for work and next I know, I’m here with you…”

“Layla, when I found you, you were laying right there, unconscious,” The pair look around, and find themselves in the middle of a quiet side street, almost deserted save for the onlookers gazing at them with shock as they move towards the sidewalk together. “You weren’t responding to me at all, I thought someone might have run you over!”

Layla tries once more to remember any detail she could of what had happened, to no avail. For all intents and purposes, she had just appeared out of nowhere.

“Look, I really think you should get checked out by a doctor, but it’s your choice, dear,” Peter says, a pleasant smile gracing his features, giving the impression of a gentle giant. “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do, but it would give me peace of mind if you at least came with me and got cleaned up.”

Stunned, Layla looks down at her outfit, which, to her shock, is charred slightly, and covered in patches of dirt, no doubt from her lay-down in the middle of the street. Glancing at her new companion, she nods her head minutely, a confused look plastered on her face. Taking this as a cue to help, Peter leads the woman with a light hand on her scraped elbow, talking nonsensically to her all the while.

“...I’m actually the manager of a popular band, maybe you’ve heard of them. Anywho, you never did tell me where that accent is from...”

Layla attempts to answer his question, also trying to glean any answer she could to make sense of the patchwork of her memories. Stopping for a moment, she places a hand in the deep pockets of the torn jean jacket she was wearing. Pulling out a wallet and a set of keys, confusion set on her face once more, she opens the wallet and finds a driver’s license issued to one Layla Porter, age 24, born April 6th. All correct, of course. Shock, almost electric in its power, bowled the young woman over when she read her supposed birth year: 1950. Something wasn’t right. She locks eyes with Peter, eyes starting to fill with panicked tears, her pulse a staccato drum beat to accompany the quickening of her breath.

“Shit, shit, shit…” Peter repeats under his breath, as he hurries Layla into the building in front of them, having reached their destination. Peter, thanks to his imposing frame, has no trouble shielding Layla from sight as he herds her into the elevator, ignoring every attempt at conversation from others. Once inside and finally free from the bustle of the lobby they had just escaped, Layla, taking a deep breath, asks the question that has been plaguing her mind since she had opened the wallet.

“Mr. Grant—”

“Please, call me Peter, dear.”

“...Peter, what’s the date today?” Layla starts, voice wavering slightly.

“January 6th.”

“And the year?”

“Are you sure you’re—”

“Please, Peter, answer the question,” she pleads, desperation increasing. This could not be happening. Not to her. Never to her. This only happens in movies, right?

“1975, of course. Layla, are you sure you’re okay? Do I need to call a doctor after all?”

Fuck.

----------

The elevator opens its doors once more, and in a stunned silence, Layla exits, Peter following not far behind, worry creasing his features. Knowing that if she says anything about what has happened would earn her a trip to the psych ward, the young woman plasters on a smile. Peter, satisfied for the moment, finally leads her to his office, which is grand and decorated with luxury in mind. The man leads Layla to one of the chairs in front of him and sits her down, making sure she's comfortable, before he leaves momentarily to get supplies. Layla, left to her own devices, allows her gaze to roam over the elegant office. A colourful bouquet of flowers placed in intricately gorgeous vases sits pristinely on the rich wooden desk.

“So I guess he was telling the truth about the whole ‘popular band’ thing…” Layla mutters under her breath, thoughts interrupted by Peter’s footfalls, loud on the tiled floor.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Peter says, grinning sympathetically at the young woman in front of him. “And then we can talk about the next steps for you. We’ll figure this out, Layla. I assure you.” His sentence punctuated by a pat on the young woman’s knee, he gets to work, cleaning every cut and scrape with care and tenderness.

Each mark accounted for, he stands to his full height, Layla following with a small smile.

“Now, we need to get these clothes washed and repaired,” said Peter, glancing miserably at Layla’s clothing, torn and filthy as they were. “I don’t have any women’s clothes on me, so one of the boys’ clothes will have to do. I’m sure they won’t miss them much, always leaving stuff at the studio and all…” Peter laughs heartily, Layla following suit. The man goes to leave, no doubt on the hunt for suitable clothing for his new friend, when he is interrupted by a small hand at his wrist.

“Peter, thank you so much. I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done, and I can only hope to repay you somehow.”

Looking down at the young woman, the man in question waves her words away, shaking his head with a slight smile.

“My dear, I couldn’t just leave you there. I should be thanking you, for trusting me the way you did. Now, I’ll go fetch the clothes. Sit tight.”

He strolls away, muttering something about, “Pagey… He’s a beanpole… But he’s tall… Hm… Bonzo, though…”

Some minutes later, Peter returns, holding in his large hands a pair of plain black slacks, a cozy, tan sweater painted with intricate designs in black and burgundy, and a black cotton t-shirt.

“I’ll leave you to get changed. I hope those fit well enough, we had a limited selection,” he chuckles, handing over the clothes with care. Layla dresses quickly, feeling brand new, and opens the door for Peter, who had been guarding the room, to enter. He looks her up and down, and claps his hands together suddenly, a smirk appearing on his whiskered face.

“Layla, you look wonderful. If only Jimmy could see this…”

“Peter, there you are! We’ve been looking for you— Oh, hello. Who might you be, little dove?”

The click of the opening door was unheard by the pair, until a silky smooth voice drifted toward them, the owner poking his head into the room. His hair fell in tastefully messy curls the colour of spun gold. His eyes, an iridescent gemstone blue, gave the woman a once-over, laughter bubbling out of his mouth upon recognizing the clothes she was wearing.

“Percy, stop flirting with the girl.” Another person strolls out from behind ‘Percy’, his tawny hair flopping across his forehead, framing his squared jaw as he shakes his head fondly, grey eyes softening in amusement.

“Jonesy, Robert, this is Layla. She got banged up a bit, and on my way here I found her, helped her clean up.”

“So this lug over here is your knight in shining armour?” Robert says, smiling innocently at Peter, a mischievous glint in his ocean eyes. “You should’ve just called us, boss. I would leap at the chance to help a beauty like you.”

“Robert? Is that your name?” Layla says, twirling her hair between her fingers, long eyelashes fluttering suggestively against her cheeks. Robert nods, slinking slightly closer to the woman, oblivious to the groans of Jonesy and Peter.

“Yes, it is, little dove. It sounds even better coming from your lips.”

“Yeah… No. Respectfully? Fuck off.”

Stunned faces stare back at the woman, until Jonesy breaks the silence, letting out a loud chuckle, Peter following suit. Robert’s own shock wears off, and, pride painted on his face like a Rembrandt, he turns to Peter.

“Boss, the little dove’s got fire. Can we keep her?”

“I swear to God, blondie, if you call me that one more time—”

The conversation is interrupted yet again, by a knocking on the door, before a mop of long brown locks appears.

“Boys, what took so long? We thought you were getting Peter, not having a bloody orgy. Um… Who’s the bird?”

“Bonzo, did you find… Oh… What’s going on here?” Yet another person enters the room, and Layla’s heart skips a beat. The newest intruder was a tall, lean man with a shock of long midnight curls and a squared jaw, eyes a deep, clear emerald. His soft voice that had floated in from the open door felt like a warm embrace.

“The whole gang's back together again.” Jonesy says, deadpan, wiping fake tears of happiness from his slate-grey eyes.

“Excuse me, love, but… Who are you? And… Isn’t that my sweater?” The last question spoken in the dulcet voice of the raven-haired man was directed at Peter, confusion creasing the stranger’s face.

“My God… Listen up, for Christ’s sake. I am only explaining this once. This is—”

“My name is Layla, and I’m not a damn bird,” She glares at Robert and Bonzo, who snicker silently when she finally looks away, finding humour in the hot-headedness of the woman in front of them, “I must’ve hit my head earlier, and Peter found me, unconscious, and decided to help. You must be the band Peter keeps talking about.”

“Yes, yes. You’ve met Robert…” At this, Robert winks playfully, fully intent on seeing the cheeks of the young woman across from him flush in anger. “This is John Paul Jones, John Bonham, and Jimmy Page.” Peter gestures down the line, pointing out each member, who all smile at the woman. If Layla’s eyes linger slightly on the ebony-haired man on the end, nobody seemed to notice.

“So… Is anyone going to say anything about the accent, or…”

“Oh my God, Bonzo.”

----------

Weaving through the maze of hallways, Layla is stunned at the luxury of the place. The walls were tall and trimmed elegantly with golden accents, with posters of successful musicians hung up like shrines. Gold and platinum vinyls were scattered, framed with sleek wooden borders. It was a true display of wealth, and it was beautiful.

“... And our grand tour concludes here, in our beloved studio. Little dove, are you listening?”

Reverie broken by the subtly nasal voice of Robert Plant, Layla glares daggers at him, acquiring a honey-sweet smile in return. The corner of Layla’s mouth quirks up involuntarily at the antics of the blond man, and he counts this as a victory. Taking in the space around her, she is stunned, as much as she’d loathe to admit it. There wasn’t much to it, a blatant contrast to the rest of the building, but this studio quickly topped every room she had seen. Instruments of every shape and size were scattered across the carpeted floors, while a sleek grand piano sat ornately in the centre of the room. Layla’s attention, though, was stolen by a gorgeous guitar, the colour of a lovely sunrise.

“Is that…” Layla says, walking towards the guitar, reaching out a hand to touch the rosewood neck. “Is that a Les Paul Standard? It’s…Beautiful.”

“God, you’re already wearing his clothes. Jimmy should’ve given you the tour… How was I to know you’d both be guitar fanatics?”

“Shut up, blondie.”

“Oh my, are you smirking at me, little dove? Warming up to me already, are we?”

“In your dreams.”

“Yes, you are,” Robert says, smirking back at the woman looking up at him. In response, Layla walks to the door, ready to leave. If her middle finger was extended? So be it. Back turned to Robert, she hides a secret smile.

Suddenly opening the door and stepping through, Jimmy knocks into Layla, scrambling for a hold on her arm to stop her from falling. Layla, arm in Jimmy’s grasp, only succeeds in pulling him down on top of her, chest to chest and nose to nose. The pair, captivated by the meeting of green and brown, scarcely move, until a subtle cough from Robert sets them into motion again. Clambering to his feet, Jimmy sticks out a large hand to his fallen companion, his other hand scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

“Sorry, Layla, I… Um… Didn’t know you were in here. I would’ve been looking where I was going if I had,” Jimmy stutters, helping the woman up. “Not that I wouldn’t at any other point in time, I… Sorry, I just needed to grab something…” He skirts by her, fumbling to grab a large pile of papers stacked precariously on an amp, almost dropping it in his haste to leave the room.

With the click of the door, Robert seems to come alive again with an exaggerated gasp, deafening in the awkward silence.

“Jimmy?! You like Jimmy?! Wow… I did not see this development coming!”

“Robert, I am begging you,” Layla whispers gravely, a hand flying to the mouth of the excited blond. “Shut up. Do not say another word.”

Slowly, she removes her hand, and, cheeks scarlet, hurries out of the room, bumping into a stray chair on her way out. Robert stands stock-still, seemingly shocked to his core. The man shakes his head, hair flying left and right, with a fond smile on his face.

“Nerds of a feather…”

----------

taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis (let me know if you want to be added!)

#led zeppelin #jimmy page fanfiction #jimmy page fanfic #jimmy x oc #jimmy page #led zeppelin fanfic #only the black rose

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certifiedskywalker · 4 years

Text

Sometimes, Love Means Leaving - Klaus Hargreeves

Anonymous said: Hello.... may I please request a Klaus Hargreeves x Reader? Your writing is beautiful and I cant stop reading your Klaus posts! I was thinking maybe the reader and klaus have been together for a long time and when she passes away in an accident klaus stays clean enough to conjure her to try to keep her around and be able to physically touch her again? (like he did with ben) i hope this makes sense.... thank you :)

fabimgc said: Hii, could you do a one shot Klaus x reader, where the reader has powers but died in a mission saving Klaus and Klaus is trying to see her but cant? Like Angst with a fluff ending if you can thankss❤️

AN: this story takes place BEFORE Season One of The Umbrella Academy. I hope you like this!

He felt awful; worse than the day you left. Worse because, when Klaus closed his eyes, he could see your face. You were so close to him, painfully so, and yet he couldn’t quite reach you. The aching in his stomach pulled him back to reality every time.

“C’mon, Klaus, there are better ways to do this.”

“Shh, jus’ shhh,” Klaus whimpered, opening his eyes just enough to glance at the phantom visage of his brother. In his mostly-sober state, Ben appeared more in focus. Light and shadow seemed to meld around him in a way that was more natural. For a moment, Klaus thought his long dead brother was really, truly, there.

“You should have stayed in re-”

“O-oh shit! Peanut gallery,” Klaus groaned, “you need to shhh!” Weak and stumbling, Klaus moved to stand. He pressed his shoulder to the wall, the plaster cooling his searing, sweaty skin. The sharp contrast was shocking to him at first but when he rested his throbbing temple against the wall, he sighed in relief. “Oh, yes. That’s better.”

Klaus let his eyes close to savor the feeling. In the dark behind his eyelids, he was weightless. Then he heard it again. Only sirens at first, high-pitched and ringing in his ears. His heart began to pound as he was thrust back into the memory. Seconds pass and the sirens turned to faint beeping, then a dull, enduring tone. Finally, mournful tune. Violins, piano, he couldn’t tell. Klaus only knew the melody from your funeral.

With a gasp, Klaus opened his eyes and crumpled to the floor of the hotel room he had rented for the evening. The carpet was rough against his skin but he could have cared less. Klaus was too busy trying to calm his breathing, still his heaving chest.

“Klaus,” Ben whispered, kneeling down beside his brother. For a moment, he thought Ben was going to reach out and stroke his hair. It something you used to do when Klaus, in an attempt to avoid the ghosts, went too far on a bender. But, Ben seemed to back down, sit back on his knees and watch him with worry in his eyes. His pity stung.

“Please go,” Klaus wheezed, letting his eyes close.

“I’m only here to-”

“Ben. Go.” Klaus opened his eyes again, “you’re not who I want here.”

Hurt washed over Ben’s face but he stood up nonetheless. “I know you’re grieving, that you’re in pain, but that doesn’t mean you get to be a dick to the people who care about you.”

Before Klaus could snap a witty comeback or apologize, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say really, Ben was gone. Klaus was alone again, in pain again, and he could feel familiar tears well up in his eyes. All he wanted was you but you were gone and he was, seemingly, still too high to conjure you presence. His head ached with longing and withdrawal.

Frantic for comfort, Klaus thought of you and the last time he tried to get sober. It had all been in an attempt to get you to stop worrying about him. You had come home to Klaus passed out, slouched over the toilet bowl, barely moving. It had scared you so much. Klaus didn’t want to scare you so he tried to get clean.

It was a long stretch of days. Nights were spent in bed or sprawled out on the bathroom floor with blankets strew around your bodies. You would stroke his hair, read to him, in the hopes of luring him to sleep. Klaus could still feel your fingers working the knots in his curls; every some often your fingertips would brush along his hairline.

In the mornings, you would make breakfast together. Klaus would insist on everything greasy and too-sweet pastries from the local bakery. Most times, you would compromise with eggs or toast or fruits. On the mornings after a good night, when Klaus felt most sober and you were happy, you would walk, hand-in-hand and make a day of going to the cafe. Those day-long dates felt so distant now, so muddled by drugs and the passage of time.

“Y/N….” Even your name, falling from his lips, felt different. He screwed his eyes shut to keep the tears at bay. “I miss you. Please...”

Silence greeted his plea. Deafening, heartbreaking silence, and then...

“Miss me? I’m always here.”

Klaus’ eyes flew open at the sound of your voice. There you were, crouching down at his side, eyes meeting his the moment they opened. You smiled and Klaus scrambled to sit up. He let out an almost crazed laugh. He had finally done it.

“Y/N,” Klaus reached out, but stopped himself. He didn’t want his hands to go through you like they did with Ben. It would be another reminder that you weren’t truly here. “I-I…”

“You did it,” you gleamed, “you got sober.”

“Y-yeah,” Klaus was grinning now, “I did. It only took like four ye-”

“Hey, no. Be kind to yourself, this is a process. Especially when you’re doing it by yourself like you had, have been.” Klaus could see the warning in your eyes before you continued to speak. He raised his hands and shook his head.

“I don’t want to waste time with a lecture. I know I need help but right now I,” he met your eyes, “I just want to be with you.”

“Klaus,” your voice was low and your hand shifted to rest on the floor between the two of you. So close yet still so terribly far away. “If you die, we won’t get more time like this.”

He fell quiet at that. You were right, he knew that much, and it made his chest ache. After your death, all Klaus wanted was to see you again. He hadn’t thought about anything else, save for what he would say to you if he ever got sober enough to conjure.

“I love you, Y/N.” He met your gaze and felt his heart lurch in his chest. There, he saw the soft smile he had missed spread along your perfect lips, lips he craved to kiss but couldn’t.

“I love you too, Klaus. That’s why you need to take care of yourself. I want to keep loving you, even if I’m not really here.” You leaned closer to him, “you still have to live your life.”

“I can conjure you now, whenever, like Ben and I-Ben. Did you hear what I…”

“I did,” you admit. “You know he was just trying to help.” Klaus nodded and let his eyes fall to the floor where your hand was still. Small but there, flecks of blood stood out against your skin as evidence of your accident. He swallowed hard before looking back up at you.

“You’re not staying are you? Not like him?” You curled your lips together and shook your head. Klaus nodded again, bitterly this time, and let his tears fall freely.

“I can’t,” you whispered, “not if you’re going to move on. You deserve to move on, Klaus, to live. I can’t, not really, not anymore.”

“But you love me,” Klaus whimpered. There was no use in hiding his tears anymore.

“I do,” you replied, “so much, Klaus, and this hurts me. I don’t want to see you like this.”

“When you love someone you stay with them. Why aren’t you staying?” Klaus was desperate, his hands moved up to his hair where his fingers pulled on the dark strands.

“I already left this...plane,” you gesture to the room around you both, “but I never left you, Klaus. Not for a second.” You scoot along the carpet before you’re sitting before him. You’re so tantalizing close that Klaus swore he could feel your body heat for a second, smell your shampoo. Though that could not be true. “I’ve always been, and always will be, right here.”

Suddenly, Klaus feels a warmth spread through his chest. When he looked down, he finds your hand there, right above his heart. Your fingertips glow in a way he had never seen a ghost’s fingers glow before. At first, it scares him.

Then your free head reaches up, strokes his hair and brushes along his scalp. A calm, a peace he hadn’t felt in a long time washed over him.

It was the peace Klaus felt walking with you to the bakery down the street from where you lived in the city. The same one he felt listening to you talk about your family, about school, about work; he felt it in your voice. Peace came with kissing you, holding you after he was released from the hospital after that first close call. How happy he had been to hold you again.

How happy he was to be holding you again, now. Klaus lunged towards you, wiry arms wrapping over your shoulders and pulling you close. The embrace was tight and Klaus felt everything he had been holding in go; like how he would have to let you go.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Klaus,” you said, clutching the back of his shirt. Suddenly, your fingers slipped through the material and you began to pull away. The light in your hands was beginning to fade and, as you sat back, Klaus watched, terrified.

“I love you, please don’t…”

“I love you too, Klaus. You were my unfinished business,” you leaned towards him as the light worked its way through your form. “I’ll always be here.”

With one final movement, you pressed your lips to Klaus’ and he felt his whole body go numb. He felt as if he were floating, made of the same light that was whisking you away to the next plane. Klaus knew, in those precious seconds before he opened his eyes again, that he would see you once more. He would, but not yet.

When Klaus opened his eyes, you were gone. Last, fluttering speck of light had taken your place. Stinging tears flowed from his eyes but his shoulders didn’t feel as heavy. Withdrawals had run the course or perhaps the disappearance of his full-body ache was your doing. He would never know for certain.

Slightly breathless, Klaus pressed his back against the wall. His head fell back and, with a dull thud, it hit the wall as well. His skin, his lips seemed to tingle from your ghostly touch. It was the first time that had happened before. Perhaps dear-old-dad had been right: there was more to his powers than he realized. But, in that moment, Klaus was too overwhelmed to think any further on the subject.

“You alright?” Klaus looked up and locked eyes with his brother. Ben, all dressed in black, looked down at him worried.

“I’m sorry, Ben,” Klaus murmured. Ben nodded and walked over. His slid down the wall to sit next to his sweat-drenched, chest heaving brother.

“I’m sorry too.”

Klaus smiled then and, for the first time in a while, he felt like happiness was possible. His chest swelled at the feeling and, for a split second, Klaus swore he could feel your hand run through his hand one last time.

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need-a-fugue · 3 years

Text

Trustworthy (Chapter 5)

Summary: You’ve spent the last three years teaming up with Santiago Garcia on every mission you had a hand in coordinating… and the past several months plotting with him to take down the biggest bad to hit your radar. But even all your time at the DEA and all your experience in the field couldn’t have prepared you for this.

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader (slow burn)

Warnings: Violence, language

His shoes come into view long before you hear his voice, heavy, mud-laden boots stepping confidently in front of you, one tapping out an impatient rhythm for a moment before nudging harshly at your toe. You pull your head from between your legs, plant shaky elbows on your knees, cringe once again at the dull rumble pulsating along your ass and thighs as the chopper continues to climb into the sky… and you glare up at the man before you.

Santi merely smirks as he reaches out a hand to lean into the wall of the helicopter, looming smugly over the top of you. “How you doing?” he asks with a teasing lilt.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this unmedicated,” you seethe. “I hate flying.” He knows this. Of course, he knows this. And if the overt quirk of his lips tells you anything at all, it’s that he simply revels in your agony. “Asshole,” you mutter as your eyes narrow dangerously.

And the bastard has the balls to laugh. “C’mon,” he says after a beat, his voice just barely cutting in over the roar of the propellors above. He reaches down to grip your bicep and tugs, urges you off of the bench and up to your feet. “Come check this out.”

You release a pathetic-sounding moan, somehow loud enough for him to hear. And pitiful enough to encourage another snort of a Santiago laugh. You trust this man. You’ve worked with him for the better part of three years, been friends with him almost as long. You’d very likely take a bullet for him… well, depending on why he was being shot at anyway. But right now, the crooked, far-too amused grin on his face as he leads you up towards the cockpit is enough to make you want to toss him from the damn helicopter.

He nudges you forward as you reach the front of the chopper, sandwiching you in between his unmoving frame and the back of Frankie’s seat. “Take a look,” he instructs, nodding out towards the rolling green hills below.

You reluctantly raise your head and gaze outside, the beauty of it all enveloping you for a single breathless moment before you hit a small air pocket and the helicopter gives a slight lunge. Again, Santi laughs. So does Frankie in front of you, though he at least has the decency to mutter a soft, “Sorry,” as his eyes arc over his shoulder and catch your wide, petrified stare.

“I’m gonna hurl,” you say, only partially serious.

“Then go lean over Redfly’s seat,” he says back to you with a wicked smile.

You keep your eyes trained on him, on his worn hat, on the side of his scruffy face, on anything other than the wide-open world laid out ahead of you… the one you’re fairly certain you’re all going to plummet down into any second, ending your story in a massive molten steel fireball. “You’re sure you can handle this thing?”

A harsh huff blows out his nostrils, eyes rolling dramatically. “I’m gonna pretend like you didn’t just ask me that,” he replies smugly.

Your gaze drifts down to the myriad buttons and controls peppering the console in front of him, the sheer number of things he must have to keep track of just to ensure you all stay in the air both impressing and terrifying you. A swift hit of panic causes you to inadvertently gasp and you feel his eyes on you once again.

“I know what I’m doing,” he states simply, a warm reassurance emanating from those simple words.

You don’t look up to catch his brief glance. Instead, your eyes remain trained on his hands, entranced by the strong, confident hold he has on the controls. On this whole damn deathtrap of a machine. “Yeah,” you mutter, a bit reluctantly, the tension in your shoulders uncoiling, if only a bit. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Check it out, bonita,” you hear Santi spill into you from behind. You look up and out at the world beyond, see a streak of blinding white creeping in along the horizon. He leans close and pats you on the shoulder. “We make it over the Andes and we’re almost home-free.”

“Just as long as we don’t end up like that rugby team,” you offer snidely before tossing a glance back at him and letting your own face split into an arrogant smirk. “I have a feeling all of your meat is too damn tough to digest.”

He shakes his head in amusement and pops a chuckling Frankie hard enough to bounce the baseball cap askew on his head. “That’s all up to this guy,” he says before leaning over the seat and asking, “You think we’ll make it?”

There’s a bit of a shift to his tone when he asks, and to Frankie’s as well when he answers. “Not sure.” And it’s just enough to cause your stomach to drop to your knees.

“I hope that’s a joke,” you say, doing your best to hide the anxious warble to your voice.

He looks over his shoulder and tosses a seemingly carefree smile in your direction, easily hums out, “Just playing in the clouds, cielo,” before turning his attention back to the task at hand. You roll your eyes, but can’t quite keep the corner of your mouth from ticking up into a crooked grin all the same.

000

Somehow – somehow – you had managed to fall asleep. Sheer exhaustion and the near-constant ramping up of adrenaline apparently being the trick to getting you to nod off whilst in the air without a Xanax-vodka cocktail. You never would’ve thought it would – or even could– happen, but for some indeterminate period of time you became utterly dead to the world while rocking on this terrifying contraption. In fact, you’re so far gone that you don’t even register what’s happening when your heavily drooping head suddenly slams back into the wall in time with a violent lurch, ripping you from sleep alongside a horrifying screeching sound from above.

The helicopter heaves again and you white knuckle it, clinging maniacally to the metal bench beneath you as you watch Ben and Will look frantically around as though they too had just been torn from rest. From your left, you hear Santiago scream something at them. Something that sounds like, “Pull the lever!” the words just barely audible over the top of the whooshing reverberating in your ears.

The brothers both leap up – one a bit slower, a bit more painedthan the other – and they turn to search for the device. Will finds it first, a bright red lever sticking out like a sore thumb amidst the gunmetal gray and deep olive drab tones of the helicopter’s interior. He pulls it in a single harsh movement and both of the men hold tight to the netting on the wall as they stare down at the small access door in the floor. But… nothing seems to happen.

“Didn’t work!” Ben shouts back at Santi, and by this time, you too are leaning forward to catch a glimpse of what they’re looking at. Through the tiny access door, you can just make out the net full of money, swinging dangerously from the bottom of the helicopter. With a jolt of panic, you realize that they’re trying to release it.

“What’s going on?” you shout, your words effectively drown out as Santiago pushes past, forcing you back to your seat as he yells something about a manual release.

Ben drops to the floor and tries to shimmy through the access door – much to your horror – just as the chopper heaves to the side again. Will lunges forward to grab him, but as it turns out, there’s really no need for him to worry about his brother because he… “Can’t fit!”

All three men freeze, hovering over the tiny hole in the floor for a single, nerve-wracking moment as they gather their wits and formulate a plan. Then all three sets of eyes turn on you.

“No, no, no, no,” you string together as you throw up your hands and lean further back on the bench.

Santi steps forward and kneels awkwardly in front of you, his hand wrapping tightly around your wrist. “We’re going to crash if that thing stays on,” he shouts over the din. “If we release it, Fish can land. If not, we die.”

You shake your head no, but don’t resist as he tugs you up and forward. “Think you can fit?” Ben asks, his voice, perhaps for the first time you’ve heard it, carrying no hint of humor nor mirth. You lean forward to look, and you freeze.

At your back, Santi gives you a little nudge and squeezes your elbow reassuringly. “The release is right there,” he says, pointing down at the heavy lever atop the net. “We’ll lower you down. Just kick it to release.” He turns you toward him, looks you dead in the eye, now holding tight to both of your arms, and he gives you a quick, firm shake to make sure he has your attention. “We won’t let you fall. I promise.”

You give a blank nod and swallow thickly before stepping closer to the access door and appraising the space. You can do this… of course, you can do this. You can fit through that door. Just drop through it and… kick the thing. They won’t let you fall. They won’t let you fall. We won’t let you fall.

“Okay,” you say simply, nodding once more as Santiago transfers you over to Benny. You seize him in a death grip as he lowers you out the door, his strong hands wrapped firmly around your biceps, his stern, set face – so unlike the visage you’d come to know – holding your stare in a confident promise. We won’t let you fall. But as you kick wildly through the air, you realize that the lever is just out of reach.

You look up to see Benny turn to the others and say something, but the wind rushing around you keeps his words at bay. When he turns back, he nods down, issuing a silent command to keep trying, and you feel yourself slip further from the helicopter. Immediately, your eyes snap back up and you see that his grip on your arms is still solid, he hasn’t slackened a bit. But he is about halfway through the door himself.

Can’t fit, my ass, you think exasperatedly, noting that his hips seem to be clearing the opening just fine. Sure, it’s tight, but he could’ve made it. You shove those thoughts away for now – though you have every intention of berating him for this later – and you stretch further, looking down to line up your foot as best you can with the lever, each kick haphazardly swinging through the air and just missing the release.

Finally, you make contact, feel it jerk a bit beneath your boot. You pull back and make one more wide-arcing sweep and slam into the lever with your heel. The net full of money drops, your wide eyes watching as it plummets to the earth below. But – before you’re even able to fully register the fact that you actually did it – the chopper lunges to the side, awkwardly reacting to the sudden drop in weight, and your body is flung up against the bottom of the helicopter.

Ben holds you tight, his fingers digging into your flesh almost as deeply as yours are into his. But when you look up, you see that he’s shifted so far that he’s now hanging almost entirely out of the access door himself. His wide eyes connect with yours, terrified for a beat of a moment before his face pulls back into that stern, determined expression.

“We gotta jump!” he shouts down at you, causing your hands to constrict around him. He looks up, presumably at whomever is still holding him in the aircraft – though nothing can really be seen beyond the tight access door – shouts something into the wind, and then – before you can protest, before you can prepare – you both just… fall.

Strong arms tug at you and by the time you hit the ground, Benny’s got you cemented to his chest, breaking your fall at least a bit as he tucks and rolls for the both of you. But it still hurts like hell, your foot slamming into the ground and cranking your ankle to the side, you head bouncing off of something hard and sharp on his tac vest as the two of you collide with the earth. The air is forced violently from your lungs by the impact, and the horrific sounds of the helicopter breaking apart above you drive their way into your consciousness, reminding you all at once that not everyone has someone to break their fall.

Benny shoots up and lunges forward, stopping himself for just the fraction of a second it takes to turn back and glance over at you, make sure you’re alright. Or… alive, at least. A giant piece of metal flies toward both of you, the shimmer just registering in your periphery, and you grab at his arm to tug him back down and out of the way. The second it’s past, he’s up again in a flash, readying himself to take off just as the body of the chopper skids to the earth, lurches and rolls, and finally pulls to a terrifying stop ahead of you.

You follow him, of course, trailing behind – the now twisted ankle slowing you almost as much as the steady stream of blood trickling into your eyes. You don’t see Santiago – along with Will – climb from the wreckage, don’t see him rush for you as the brothers head for the cockpit. But you do manage to wipe enough blood from your eyes to catch the horrified look on his face once he’s right in front of you.

“Are you alright?” he asks as frantic, shaky hands pull up to wipe away more blood and examine your head. He hisses when he sees the laceration at your hairline, but you can hear a relieved breath blow out of him when you give a nod in response.

“Benny could’ve fit,” you say, words tumbling out in a breathless heap. “That was bullshit.”

Santi just laughs, loud and carefree, and pulls you into an unexpected – but most welcome – hug. “Look on the bright side, bonita,” he mutters into you, clinging tight for a lingering moment. “At least you can still say you’ve never been in a helicopter crash. You bailed before we hit.”

You shove him away and scoff, waving wildly at the wreckage behind him. “That still counts!”

He simply laughs again, shaking his head fondly, before finally dropping his hands from your shoulders and heading over to check in on Ben and Will.

“I keep telling you,” you shout at him as he goes, pointing heatedly at the wrecked helicopter. “Death trap!”

“No one’s dead,” sounds from a few feet away, drawing your attention. Tom steps out from behind the chopper and gives you a strict nod as he throws your tac vest over, the piece of equipment landing with a dull thud near your feet. “Suit up.”

You reach down to collect the vest, pinching your eyes firmly shut to stave off a sudden swell of dizziness as you pull back up a bit too fast. But before you can stumble and reel, a steadying hand lands on your back. You blink away the shakiness – and a bit of blood still trickling into your eye – and crane your head just enough to see the man now looming at your side.

“You good?” Frankie asks, concern furrowing his brow as his eyes bounce methodically back and forth between you and the order-shouting Redfly. You want to say yes. You want to ask him – bleary gaze focusing on a seeping cut down his cheek – if he’s alright. You want to ask where the hell he came from, how he appeared at your side so suddenly, just when you needed him. But before you can even crack your lips apart to speak, he shouts over to Tom, a quick and definitive, “I got her!” and you startle out of your pensive state.

His hand slides over to cup your ribs as you pull yourself upright, his thumb absently stroking atop your now sweat-soaked shirt. You turn to face him, head cocking almost comically. “You got me?” you ask, words lilting as a small smirk pulls at the corners of your lips.

His head ducks a bit as a wide, almost nervous-looking smile blooms. “Yeah,” he mutters, his hand falling away and fisting nervously before he reaches out to take the tac vest from you. You let him, remaining staunchly still – save a bit of residual sway from the trauma of falling out of a freaking helicopter – as he deftly fits it around you, tightening the straps and snorting out a short chuckle as you oomph in response. He gives a light tap to the center of your chest, a quick all good once the armor is in place, and meets your eyes before stating simply, “I got you.”

The coms are shot and the moment everyone gets into position, that thick anxiety begins curling low in your gut yet again – no rest for the weary. But, despite the fact that presumed hostiles are digging into your net full of money right now, and your way out is a smoldering pile of spent metal, and all of you are exhausted and beat to hell, limping and wiping away blood every few seconds, despite all of that, well…

I got you.

Even once the shooting starts – a single quick pop from your left, a smattering of gunfire from within the group of farmers… Even as Frankie rises and curses and trains an unyielding stare on the chaos ahead, his hand falling to your shoulder for just the fraction of a second it takes for him to communicate, stay down… Even as the locals retreat and you all move to close in, Frankie stepping directly in front of you, refusing to let you move ahead of him… Even as you approach and see the two men lying dead in the field, Tom standing over them, a look of shame painting his face… Even then, there’s a sort of calm that floods your senses, an internal quiet that sits deep in your bones, a reassurance that sounds in a deep, reverberating tenor.

I got you.

Taglist:

@tweedlydumbtweedlydoo @icanbeyourjedi @greeneyedblondie44 @mrscrain-x7 @kyjoraven@elephants-are-a-thing @nakhudanyx

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #francisco morales #frankie morales x you #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier #frankie morales x ofc #catfish morales #santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia #benny miller #will ironhead miller

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