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disneyprincemuke · 4 months

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oscar's logan's girl * ls2 op81

oscar truly never thought he would ever see the girl that was the cause of his first ever heartbreak

pairings: logan sargeant oscar piastri x fem!reader

notes: first of all, i want to thank everyone for liking the first part to this huhuhu i PERSONALLY think this is one of the fics i've written for an individual driver that has gotten this much feedback and responses... i never thought, in the 6 hours it took me to write that, that people would even like it so much... thank you for the kind words u guys <;/3

and now i would like to apologise if this did NOT go the way you thought it would... i couldn't bear hurting either logan or oscar, and holding grudges seemed like such an unlikely thing for a man of oscar's caliber... sorry if it doesn't go the way you thought <;/3

word count: 2.3k

(oscar's girl) // (f1 masterlist)

you let out the heaviest sigh, clutching onto the almost empty mercedes cup in your hand. you look over your shoulder, watching lily and carmen walk away without you in the direction of where the boys would be.

you stare at the unfamiliar, yet somehow most familiar, pair of brown eyes boring into your own. in the back of your mind, you remember the hushed giggles and how his hand used to feel in yours while you were in the streets of melbourne. you can almost remember what he sounded like when you were just kids, and the man that stands in front of you barely looks like what you remember of him.

you were devastated when you lost oscar's phone number. when you moved away to inevitably stay in the united states, you had every single intention of keeping the friendship with oscar. you just needed a week of settling in. you barely made any other meaningful friendships worth keeping in melbourne; all except the one that you had developed with oscar.

arguably, you could have done more to find him again. you could have gone on instagram, or any other social media site to try and keep the friendship alive. but you thought, after all those tears you shed before your departure, it would be better to stay away.

you only ever thought of oscar once in the past couple of years. the night before your first date with logan: you couldn't fall asleep from the nerves and anxiety. you had gotten along well over the phone, the williams driver playing his cards right every single time he would send you a text message and had your cheeks hurting from smiling too much and kicking your feet in the air.

you came across pictures of you and the young boy in melbourne, tucked away in a dusty photo album that you kept stored under your bed. you don't reminisce much: the memories you had up until you were 16 are a blur in your head. too much had happened, and the only memory that you keep with you is the fact that you moved around more than the average person.

"it's been a while," you finally speak, readjusting your shirt. the wet patch on your shirt, now slightly cold from the weather, your jacket doesn't really do much now to keep you warm. "how have you been?"

you can physically see the gears in oscar's head turn. his eyes bore into yours as he contemplates what he will say to you. if this had happened sooner after you had stopped talking to him, he would know what to say to you. because he spent his nights, and logan's mornings, talking about what he would say to you.

oscar presses his lips into a thin line. he has two choices now: unload the frustration he's forgotten about as he grew into an adult, or just be civil with the girl he could have sworn was the love of his life at 14. you never left his mind, even after all of these years, up until the moment that he met his now girlfriend, lily. he's a firm believer that you would have lasted forever if you had just stayed.

"i've been good. i'm a race car driver now," he smiles, gesturing to the paddocks around him. he's just going to try and ignore the fact that you're dating his literal best friend. "i told you."

you throw your head back with a laugh, making oscar drop his smile in the slightest of ways. he feels his chest close in on itself at the sound you're making. sometimes he fears that he'd never truly gotten over you, but that seems more like an overreaction in normal circumstances.

oscar wasn't aware of the fact that it could very well be the truth right now.

"you always did tell me you're going to be a racer," you agree with a smile. you remember going along with him to an obscure go-kart establishment once when you were growing up. it simply wasn't your thing, but you supported him through and through even as a young 14-year-old. "small world, huh?"

oscar nods with a small smile. "so, um. what happened?"

you tilt your head. "what do you mean?"

"you stopped answering my text messages out of the blue one day after you moved," oscar laughs softly, shrugging. "did i do something wrong? what happened?"

you sigh, closing your eyes as it hits you. there is something about the way his eyes are turned down slightly, and it doesn't take a genius to tell that he's trying to smile through whatever emotion he is feeling.

and you understand it if you were to put yourself in his shoes. it's genuinely all on you: you had promised that you wouldn't drift away from him before you left. you promised him, back then, that there would come a time that would bring you back together to give your relationship a fighting chance.

keeping in contact was very essential to that promise.

you don't think of oscar. but now that you do, you can see the scene of when you were about to leave playing vividly in your head. he had asked you for one simple thing: not to drift away so that someday, you can meet again and give yourselves a real fighting chance.

because realistically, at 14, there was not much to fight for but the overwhelming surge of emotions you have for something that is often categorised as puppy love.

but oscar knew even then that there was definitely something more.

"i dropped my phone in the lake. i got a new phone and a new number," you whisper dejectedly, trying to avoid the intensity of his stare. and you're prepared to receive the brunt of his anger, understandably so after you had unintentionally ghosted him. "i'm sorry. in hindsight, i should have done more to reconnect with you - social media is powerful, after all."

oscar nods, his lips pressed into a polite smile. though you can notice him clenching his jaw as he tries to force himself not to cause a scene in such a public setting.

a setting where your boyfriend, his best friend, would be involved. and his girlfriend who doesn't deserve this type of scandal tied to her name.

"we were just kids," oscar shrugs. but there's a bitterness in his mouth that he cannot ignore for too long. there is a bubbling urge from the deepest part of his gut to scream at you for all those days he swore he was going to go crazy from the pain of suddenly losing you. "i was bummed, though, when i lost you."

bummed is an understatement. the degree to which he grieved is unspoken between him and logan.

he doesn't blame logan for being overprotective of him when lily started to come into the picture. he was sat down by the american, by the sidewalks during their morning run, asking him to think long and hard about this.

it's the only time they had spoken of the instance that oscar almost lost himself. oscar waved off his concerns and said he was sure of what he has with lily, and that's a decision that he is still very proud of.

"i was devastated. but i was also scared," you whisper with a smile. "we were 14, but what i felt for you at the time... it was bigger than us, oscar. we had no fight against something like that."

oscar smiles. "logan is good to you, i hope?"

"we only just got together a couple months ago," you nod, "but he is amazing."

oscar nudges his head towards the direction that lily and carmen had walked towards earlier. you hop off your spot to catch up as he starts to walk by his side. "i've got a girlfriend of my own now. her name's lily too."

"doesn't that get confusing when you're all together? with alex's girlfriend and yours?"

"sometimes. but we don't hang out with the older drivers often," oscar admits with a scrunch of his nose. you have to bite back a laugh at his habit, seeing that it's something that has never left him. "it's a bit awkward. logan and i are typically together more often than not."

"how come?"

"we've only got each other," oscar shrugs. " we met at a karting race when we were really young. we kept in contact when we were apart. i think i may have told you about him a couple of times - my best friend living in florida."

you purse your lips, trying to rake at your brain for a time that oscar said that to you. unfortunately, your memory doesn't go that far back into the details of what you had. "wow. there's a lot i must have forgotten. i didn't know you went way back."

oscar smiles. with the little bit of resentment he has towards you, he completely understands (at his big age) why you don't seem to remember it as well as he did.

which is why he hated that he fell in love with you. he had made you his world and the meaning of his life, causing him to fall apart and crack at your goodbye.

you were an integral part of his life, but he was just a sliver of a memory in one of the places you had stayed in for a year or two. it had taken a while to start seeing it the way he does now. he hated you for what you did for years until everything started to fall into place for him in his head.

suddenly he understood why you were hesitant to befriend him in the first place. it must not have been easy to keep leaving friends behind.

"nah, it's alright. if i had such unstable environments like you did growing up, i'd have turned out much worse than you," oscar laughs. "did you move again after you moved to washington?"

you nod again. "one more time. we moved to la after three years - you know my dad. but it wasn't as severe as moving end to end of the world from australia to the united states, i guess."

"ba- oh." you calmly turn to the side, beaming when logan approaches you with confusion on his face. "i was looking for you all over the place. lily and carmen told me you ran into an old friend?"

logan had noticed oscar before you, the bright papaya orange that oscar sports all year around is not easy to miss. "i see you met oscar! what a coincidence."

"yeah, we," you laugh, rolling your eyes playfully as you meet him halfway, "funny enough, babe. we used to go to school together. in melbourne when my dad had business there when i was younger."

oscar presses his lips together, shoving his hands into his pockets and rocks back and forth on his feet. he knows it won't take long for logan to complete the puzzle.

"oh?" logan furrows his eyebrows at you, one hand on your back protectively. "small world. oscar's actually my best friend - he's on the family fridge back in florida."

"yeah, he mentioned!" you beam, wrapping your arms around his. "who would have thought that the oscar you keep talking about is the same one i know?"

logan smiles, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. "right! so this is my guest for the weekend, man. my girlfriend - we met over the winter break. i can't believe you guys go way back! this makes it so much easier, doesn't it?"

oscar wants to run away. doesn't matter where, or how he will get there, because all he can focus on is the way you're leaning into logan's touch and the way logan's smile is so bright that it could be seen by the stars.

you clearly just had that effect on people. he's just another one of those people who fell for the welcoming aura you emit.

"did you guys know each other well?" logan asks.

oscar shares a glance with you. but he knows logan, more than you, perhaps. if logan finds out the history that you share, he will not be able to live with himself. he would leave you, leaving all three of you devastated.

so as you open your mouth to respond excitedly, oscar speaks over your mutter. "not really, just had a couple of classes together," oscar lies with a smile. he reluctantly settles for logan's excitement instead of your confusion. "we bumped into one another, i thought she looked familiar."

"oh, yeah! have you got an extra shirt i could borrow? i spilled coffee all over my top," you laugh, pulling down the zip of your jacket slightly to show him the patch.

"mate, i need to go and find lily," oscar says, reaching out to pat his friend on the shoulder. "i'll see you tonight. dinner afterwards, right?"

truthfully, he wants to ditch it. but you were both 14. it's not fair to keep holding it against you when all the odds were stacked against you both.

"absolutely. i'll see you tonight, man," logan smiles, waving at him as he walks away.

he can briefly hear your conversation as he fought all urges to turn around and glance at you.

"are you sure you want to borrow my shirt? i've only got my williams team shirts in my driver's room. i can ask someone to go out and find you one, if you'd like."

"no, of course not! i want everyone to know i'm with the williams driver, you know? announce it to the world."

logan sounds so into you, and he can't fault him for that. you've got a way with people that just reel them in. he should know - he was one of those people that were wrapped around your finger.

oscar's girl, as logan would tease during karting when he was resigned to a corner to text you after the race.

but in his head, you will always be his girl, because that's what he used to call you. that's the memory of you that will live in his head forever.

@myxticmoon @fangirl-dot-com @f1enthusiastsstuff @barnestatic @ladywhistledownx @holy-macncheese-balls @lightdragonrayne @almostjollypizza @sleepybrokenmelle @flyclaren @sagestack @de1u1ugyal @starssfall @cherry-piee @cstads-blog @renarots @strrgirlxqs @uuoozzii @bringbacktim @esposamultifandom @ssprayberrythings

#THIS IS #SOOOO #???#sucked imo #anyway #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant x you #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1

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venuslore · 7 months

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𖥔 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐑 𖥔

summary ; eddie needs you and he needs you now.

pairing ; eddie munson × girlfriend!reader

notes ; nsfw, p in v sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, kinda public but not really, fingering. let me know if i forgot anything !

do not transfer, translate or share my work to any other sites.

when it came to you, eddie was needy – much like you were with him.

it didn’t take a whole lot to set you off, and the second that something stirred in the pit of your stomachs, you needed the other to relieve it. you craved eddie’s touch just as much as he craves yours, so much so that you had almost created your own language for when you needed attention.

eddie knew what it meant the second your bottom lip would jut forward slightly, big puppy dog eyes staring back at him and he would have to pretend like he wasn’t already imagining himself being buried deep inside you. that he wasn’t thinking about the way you looked down on your knees or with your skirt hitched up, ready for him to devour you.

sometimes you would be in the most inconvenient of places and feel his hand firmly grasp your ass, or slip under your shirt, and his lips would immediately be drawn to your neck. it was his way of telling you that he was in the mood.

though, you wouldn’t give in to him all the time, and mostly you enjoyed watching him squirm as you tell him just how badly you were needing him, showing him a little more skin or subtly flashing him, and movie night with steve and robin was no exception to this.

it took all but two seconds of eddie seeing the glint in your eye as you entered his trailer for him to know that he was already a goner. even more so when you waste no time in pressing your lips to his, your body leaning into him and almost knocking him off his feet. had steve and robin not already been there, you would’ve dragged him to his room before he could say a word.

“well, hello to you too,” his words are muffled against the fruity softness of your lips and he kicks the door shut behind you. his hands reach to caress either side of your head, and he pulls away only long enough to smile at you, lips quirking up at the corners, “how’s my girl?”

you draw in your bottom lip, attention wavering to steve and robin sitting on the floor not far behind him as they try to throw popcorn into the other’s mouth, “let’s just say... i don’t think i can wait an entire movie for us to be alone.”

you hadn't seen eddie for a couple of days and the heat between your legs was only growing with every second that he wasn’t inside you. the moisture had started to gather just from the mere sight of him and it wouldn’t be long until it became unbearable.

a sharp breath is all that leaves him, and he leans forward, “does the castle need conquering?”

“the castle is seconds away from falling to shambles,” you pull him even closer, pressing another kiss to his lips.

a thoughtful expression etches itself on eddie’s face, the gears turning in his head, and it takes every ounce of self-control for him not to come up with some excuse to get rid of steve and robin. but he couldn’t do that – no – they had been talking for weeks about how excited they were to watch the new scary movie that had come into the store.

“okay, lovebirds, get a room,” robin sneers, curling her upper lip with disgust at you both. “or better yet, let’s start the movie.”

eddie offers you his hand, a roguish grin on his face, but before he can pull you toward the sofa, you lean in close and whisper, “just so you know, i'm not wearing any underwear.”

“holy fuck,” he exhales, eyes blown wide as his mind is instantly flooded with the idea of you wearing nothing underneath your skirt – taunting him to know that he had such easy access to your sweet spot and all he had to do was take it.

for almost an hour, he tries to deflect his attention, tries to think of anything else, but even after steve had put the movie on and robin had turned off the lights, all he could think about was you and the way you felt wrapped around him.

he sits on the end of the sofa with you leaning into him, your head perched just beneath his chin and a thin blanket you had stolen from his room covering your body. steve and robin had opted to sit on the floor, the two of them practically inseparable as their eyes remain trained on the screen. you weren’t even entirely sure what was happening in the movie, other than some guy running around with a mask trying to kill people, because, like eddie, you couldn’t stop thinking about him either.

then, as if he had read your mind, his hand that had been wrapped around you, resting across your chest, slowly inches beneath the blanket to slip under your shirt, cupping your breast. you exhale, making sure steve and robin wouldn’t notice, before looking up at eddie as he adorns a devilish grin now.

“apparently your underwear wasn’t the only thing you forget to wear tonight,” he whispers into your ear, referring to your lack of a bra, at the same time his thumb rolls over your nipple until its taunt. “just be quiet for me, okay?”

you nod rapidly, already desperate and aching for him, and he slowly starts to inch his hand further down your body. you quietly spread your legs open enough for his hand to fit between your thighs without drawing any attention to yourself, making it seem like you were just getting comfortable.

with steady movements, his fingers trail down to the band of your skirt, grasping at the thin material and pulling it up your thighs without trying to move the blanket. you stare up at him through your lashes, brows arching with anticipation, waiting for him to finally touch your sweet spot, when robin pops up from the floor to press pause on the movie.

you had never seen eddie move as fast as he does to remove his hand from your core, thankfully going unnoticed as your chest races from the adrenaline. he presses his lips to the back of your head, though you know he’s just trying to cover up his laughter from almost getting caught.

“do you guys wanna order the pizza now?” robin asks, unbeknownst to what had been going on right under their noses.

steve is the first to nod, his hair flopping as he does, “i could go for pizza.”

“yeah, we could – we could go for pizza,” you say, breathless and shaky as you do causing eddie to chuckle from behind you.

robin takes it upon herself to call up the restaurant and place the order for delivery while eddie jumps up with a stiffness to his steps that only you seemed to pick up on, “the pizza is on me, just let me find my wallet.”

he heads to his room, leaving you alone and vulnerable as you try to pull your skirt back down without making it obvious, ultimately pretending you were just fixing the blanket. though, the attention is diverted when eddie returns seconds later with empty hands.

“i can’t find my wallet. you haven’t seen it, have you?” he makes haste of searching around the coffee table and couch for it but to no avail, even robin and steve join in the search, neither of them wanting to pay for the pizza if they didn’t have to.

“did you check your room properly? you’re always losing stuff in there,” you shake your head, knowing that the likeliness of him losing it amongst his clothes and dnd stuff was far more likely than you cared to admit. he nods, sheepishly, lifting his shoulders into a shrug, and an exasperated sigh leaves your lips, “you two keep searching, we’ll be right back. c’mon dumb dumb, we’re gonna search your room.”

grabbing a fistful of his shirt, you pull eddie back to his room, where everything looked normal and unturned. as if he hadn’t even bothered to look for his wallet. and that’s when you see it... his wallet... sitting on his dresser as clear as day. it’s then that you realize it was all just a ploy to get you alone and it worked.

turning to eddie, you see that he’s already closed the door, a proud smirk plastered on his lips as he traipses across the room to meet you, “we have about three minutes before they start to wonder what’s taking us so long.”

“then stop wasting time,” you raise a curious brow as he slowly lifts you onto the dresser. his lips barely an inch away from your own.

he immediately takes your lips in a heated kiss, breathy and full of want, as his hands run along your body. one of yours gets tangled in his curls as the other glides down his torso and between his legs, much to his surprise. your hand is greeted with an aching erection.

the touch causes him to jut and he moans against your lips as your fingers begin to get to work, grasping and caressing his dick. his breathing is uneven, hot, and heavy against your face. his hands are quick to assist in unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants down for his length to spring up, hitting you where you needed him the most.

your fingers begin to grow sticky the wetter his tip gets from your touch, and you steal a glance from him. his jaw is tensed, eyes almost closed, hazy with desire, and he groans your name lowly. he connects his lips with your neck, biting, sucking down on your skin, as he hitches your skirt up to reveal your cunt. so pretty and moist – just the way he liked it.

wrapping your legs around him, prompting him to line himself up against you, he slowly glides himself up and down before entering your needy little hole. you can’t help but gasp at his thickness and it gets harder and harder to control your breathing when he’s working you open, his teeth leaving marks of sweet pain over your tender skin.

deciding that he’s moving too slowly, you clasp your thighs harder around him, pushing him to fill you entirely. you have to throw your head into his neck to stop yourself from crying out, teeth clamping down on his skin while he waits a beat for you to adjust to his considerable size. and then he starts to move, slowly growing faster. his pace is rough and reckless – someone missed you.

you know you don’t have time to savor the pleasure, you needed to get to work before steve or robin came barging in. you start to push back against his rhythm, squeezing him until you feel his legs start to give way. he’s close.

his thrusts are fast, hard, making your body shake. he’s giving you all he’s got.

“y/n... you first... cum for me,” he whispers in your ear.

it only takes two more thrust for a wave of warmth to shower over you as he keeps pounding you through your orgasm. his arms tighten around you as his hips gyrate, pushing himself as deep as he can before filling your hole with his secretion.

“fuck, eds,” you cry out, though it’s muffled by his hand as he slowly pulls out of you, watching as his liquids spill from you and into a puddle on the dresser.

gently he helps clean you up and step back on the floor, pulling a pair of sweatpants from his drawer. kissing your trembling thighs, he removes your skirt and helps you slip on the pants.

“we should probably get back,” he snickers, offering you his hand and grabbing his wallet with the other.

as you exit the room, robin and steve seemed to have given up the search for eddie’s missing wallet. both of them laying on the floor throwing a ball to one another.

“did you find it?” steve asks as the two of you approach, and you snatch it from eddie’s hand to show that you did.

“i told him he just wasn’t looking well enough. found it in his dresser,” you faux roll your eyes and return to your seat on the couch with eddie.

robin eyes you up and down, “i take it you also found them in his dresser.” she points to the grey sweatpants you now adorned.

you open your mouth to answer at the same time the doorbell rings, saving you from the question. eddie simply tosses his wallet to steve and he and robin answer the door. when you look back to eddie, he has an all too familiar look in his eyes and you know that your night is far from over.

#— ꒰ ‧ ₊˚ vee daydreams ˖꙳‧ ꒱#— not sfw ! ᰔ #eddie munson ᰔ #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic

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writeforfandoms · 3 months

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Homeward Bound 1

Find the series masterlist

Welcome to my newest wip, because dragons are my absolute favorite fantasy creature. Also, please leave canon at the door, this is a full on fantasy AU we're now entering.

Seriously. I have so much world building already done for this. Come ask me questions.

We've got a bit of a slow burn, dragons, baby dragons, and drama. What more could you want?

Eventual Simon Riley x f!reader

Warnings: Swearing, fantasy au rules, literal dragons.

Word count: 1k

You huffed as, yet again, Kyle and John invaded the nesting area. They had gotten more polite over the last weeks, but still.

Truly, though, you couldn't entirely blame them. They were both in the group for this upcoming Hatching, and were very eager. John had been passed over last time, and Kyle was new this time.

You would never tell them, but you had a good feeling for them, for this season.

“Quiet down,” you told them, stern and no-nonsense, refusing to smile at their silliness.

“Aw, we jus’ wanted te see,” John wheedled, his northern accent still strong despite his time in the capital.

You rolled your eyes. “Quietly, then,” you stressed, taking a quick look round. Most of the dragons were still calm, only one or two first timers fidgety and anxious. Good enough. Nothing to fuss over.

Kyle nodded eagerly, making a face at John. But the two were quick to look around the nests, whispering to each other.

You just closed your eyes and leaned back in your seat. They'd be fine. And if they weren't, they'd get hissed at.

Good enough.

Yawning briefly, you blinked lazily up at the ceiling of the cave, which stretched far above your head. Strategic perches had been hewn into the rock over generations of dragons, giving plenty of spaces above the hatching grounds for the dragons to observe. The seating had been added for humans to observe, long before you.

In a matter of weeks, the seats would be filled, and the cave would be the site of great joy once again.

Kyle cleared his throat softly, prompting you to look at him instead of the ceiling. You raised one eyebrow in silent question.

“You know best,” he murmured with a little smile. “How are they looking?”

“Healthy,” you murmured. “No issues that I can see. It's a good clutch this year.”

“Good.” Kyle smiled, clearly pleased. “That's good to hear.”

“You don't have long to wait now,” you encouraged gently, taking pity on the young man.

He nodded, looking at the nests and the mothers with something akin to awe in his eyes. “Not long,” he agreed in a murmur.

Your lips twitched in a smile, a little against your will. You had appearances to maintain, after all. “Go on,” you murmured. “Either go say hi to some of them, or go elsewhere.”

He shot you a look, a little startled and a little betrayed, but he nodded. He made the smart choice and went to the silver near you, greeting her. He'd be fine.

You, instead, looked for John to make sure he wasn't getting into trouble. It took you a moment to spot him, way out by Ilsbet. Rather to your surprise, she had tucked him into her nest.

Could be first-timer instincts, although most first-time mothers went the other way and drove everyone away from their nests…

You meandered your way over there, smiling when Ilsbet chirruped at you in greeting, stretching her head out to gently nudge your shoulder. “Hi, sweetheart,” you murmured, scratching under her chin. “You seem to have a pest in your nest.”

“Oi!” John's indignation was muffled somewhat.

Ilsbet purred, trying to encourage you closer. Probably so she could tuck you into her nest along with John.

“No, sweetheart.” You patted her nose. “I can't. We've talked about this, remember?”

She drooped, massive green body only squishing John a little. He oofed.

“Oh come now,” you scolded gently. “None of that, hm? Or your rider will insist I'm tormenting you.”

“Are you not?” The dry question came from behind you.

You didn't jump, but you did slowly turn to look. Ilsbet's rider was big and broad, blonde hair kept short, the usual fabric covering the lower half of his face. Brown eyes stared at you, impassive and unimpressed.

“No, Simon. I am not tormenting your dragon.” You kept your tone flat as you spoke to him, none of the teasing warmth you had for Ilsbet coming through.

Simon grunted once and stepped around you, staring down at John in his dragon's nest. “Out.”

“But–” John started to protest.

“Out,” Simon repeated, crossing his arms over his chest.

John sighed but got out of the nest carefully. Ilsbet didn't even notice, busy purring and chirping at her rider. You did catch a glimpse of four eggs, shells still soft beige flecked with gold. Good.

You were quick to back off and leave Simon alone. He was notorious for being difficult to get close to, even among the riders. And since this was Ilsbet's first time nesting… Well. You expected him to be extra grumpy.

But the hatching wasn't that far away now, thankfully.

You made your way back over to your seat, settling down again. In a little while, you'd check on the mothers, see if they needed anything. See if you could get another count on the eggs.

But that would be in a little bit. For now, you found Kyle and John, watching them talk quietly. Your gaze wandered back to Simon, taking in the breadth of his shoulders, the way his body language had softened as he spoke to his dragon.

He did have a heart. You'd known that, of course. You'd been at the hatching when he'd been selected. Dragons didn't select people who were heartless.

Although how such a sweet dragon had selected someone as reserved as Simon… You would never understand.

John and Kyle left, and Simon left not long after them. Your domain returned to quiet, the sand warm even through your shoes. All was as it should be.

You breathed out slowly, eyes drooping half-closed again. This was better.

Not too much longer until the hatching.

Not that you went a single day without seeing Simon, as he came in to check on Ilsbet often. It was almost like he didn't trust you.

Honestly, you weren't sure if it was just you, or if he was just like that in general. After several days of dealing with him, you were inclined to think he was just like that.

Well. The hatching would be over soon, and then it was unlikely you'd see much of him for three more years.

#homeward bound #dragonriders au #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #f!reader

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thetarttfuldickhead · 4 months

Text

It’s a little unclear, in the end, how the conversation gets there, because all in all the Richmond dressing room isn’t the site of that many sex jokes, not since Colin came out and no longer feels the need to make them. But they’re still lads, yeah, and young, mostly, so the jokes still happen, even if it’s just gentle ribbing, and silliness.

So: somehow, one morning halfway into Roy’s first year as head coach, the topic turns to sex, of the rougher variety. Roy’s only listening with half an ear, he’s busy sketching out the new trick plays Nate’s dreamed up on the whiteboard, and he doesn’t really catch the build-up, but when Jamie’s name is mentioned his ears perk up without him even really noticing. It’s become instinct at that point, keeping track of Jamie (even as Roy does his best to give all his players at least some semblance of equal attention).

“We know that Jamie likes it rough, though,” Zorro says, and the rest of the group oh:s and ah:s either knowingly or in surprised glee.

“Eh?” Jamie sounds startled by the assertion, but not particularly put off. (He never really is, as long as he gets attention, Roy thinks with an internal scoff that’s far fonder than he’d ever admit to.) “What makes you say that?”

“You told us!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Roy can see Jamie shake his head. “I don’t know what you’re on about, mate.” Still not bothered, but clearly not understanding what Zorro is getting at either.

Isaac throws him a disbelieving glance. “You don’t remember, bruv? It was when you first came here, before you started going out with Keeley.”

“Yeah,” Colin interjects, “You’d only been here for about two weeks, I think, but you came into training with these marks and bruises, and it turned out you’d hooked up with a girl the night before, but you hadn’t known she was a professional dominatrix before you got to her place.”

Hoots and titters at that, delighted and amused but not unkind.

“Exactly,” Zorro says. “And you told us you’d just gone with it because you have to try everything at least once, and it hadn’t been bad.”

Ah. Roy remembers now. He’d already been absolutely fed-up with Jamie’s attitude, the arrogance and selfishness and incessant need to put others down, and the striker’s total lack of shame and casual smugness about the marks had rubbed Roy entirely the wrong way. Not because people should be ashamed for liking that sort of stuff, of course (Roy wasn’t), but there was such a thing as common decency and unspoken rules about not parading around the dressing room like you were in a fucking porno or some shit and—

If Roy was honest about it, he’d mostly been pissed because it was Jamie, and everything Jaime did pissed him off back then (though, to be fair, most of what Jamie did back then was fucking shitty, so it’s not like Roy was wrong to be pissed. Most of the time).

“Oh.” Jamie’s voice is soft, suddenly. Small, in a way that has alarm bells going off like air raid sirens in Roy’s head. “Yeah. Um.”

The realisation hits Roy a second before it does the rest of the team, and his ears are already filling with a terrible ringing as the room falls silent behind him. He can feel himself grow rigid with rage, and with cold, curdling shame.

“Shit, man,” Isaac says eventually.

“Jamie, I’m so sorry.” It’s odd, the way Colin’s earnest, unhappy voice seems to be coming from so very far away.

“What?” Zorro, still not getting it, and then he does, and Roy, at a great distance, can hear his face crumpling. “Oh shit, Jamie, I didn’t mean—“

“No, don’t worry about it, man. It was a long time ago, yeah? It’s fine.” It’s a heroic attempt at sounding casual. Might have succeeded, too, back before they all knew Jamie as well as the do now.

Roy doesn’t stick around to hear the team offer their comfort and Jamie try to wave their concern away. He walks into the coaches’ office, and the only reason he doesn’t slam the door as hard as he can is because he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself.

“You all right there, Coach?” Beard looks up at him from behind his book, brow creased in quiet assessment.

“Oh my God, what happened?” Nate jumps down from the desk he’s been perched on. “Did someone die?”

And Roy wants to tell them to fuck off. Wants to punch the wall so hard it stops his mind from spinning. But he’s been talking with Dr. Fieldstone about that, hasn’t he, how his maladaptive coping strategies are tripping him up, and fucking over the people he cares about in the process.

So he takes a deep breath. And he doesn’t look at them when he starts talking. “Back before Ted came here Jamie came in with these bruises all over his chest and back one day, and he told us he’d had sex with a fucking dominatrix. And I believed him, okay? I just… I fucking believed him, even though it was weird fucking bruises for— That’s not the fucking point. But because I thought he was an arrogant fucking prick and I fucking hated his guts, I told him— “ He trails off, looking up at the ceiling. Uselessly, his cheeks are burning. Maybe his eyes are, too, if he’d let himself feel it. “I told him I’d be happy to pay to see someone give him a trashing. Give ‘em extra if they knocked a couple of his teeth out so he’d shut up for once.”

Beard doesn’t say anything, but he leans back in his chair with a look on his face that lets Roy know that, yeah, he’d fucked that one up good and proper.

“Oh,” Nate says. “So it was his dad who— That’s— But— I mean, that’s not good, obviously, that’s awful, but it’s… It wasn’t you who hurt him, Roy. And I mean, you and Jamie have said all sorts of thing to each other. Done all sorts of things.”

And that’s true, isn’t it. And mostly Roy is happy enough to write it off as tit-for-tat, old foolishness and bygones, Jamie a prick and Roy sometimes an idiot, and they’re both better now. And he doesn’t know how to explain to Nate and Beard how knowing that Jamie looked up to him ever since he was a kid, knowing that he never took that poster down, even after that, after everything, makes his casual cruelty and failure to protect Jamie all the harder to bear, even if he hadn’t known at the time that there was anything to protect Jamie from.

“Coach—“ Beard begins, but is interrupted by a knock on the door, and before Roy can tell whoever it is to fuck off, Jamie sticks his head into the office. Must have made his escape from the rest of the team, then. “Sorry, Coach, are we getting started or what? The lads— “ He catches sight of Roy’s face and his eyes widen. “Jesus, Roy, what happened? Are you all right, man?”

Under other circumstances, Roy might have found it remarkable how quickly and effortlessly Jamie makes the switch from Roy’s respectful star player to Roy’s friend, his entire demeanour changing as he moves into the room. As it is, Roy doesn’t say anything, but he must have made some sort of noise or moved some sort of way, because Jamie’s face twists in alarm, and then he’s across the floor and gently but firmly pulling Roy into a hug. “There, it’s all right, man, I’ve got you, lad, it’s all right.”

Roy blames all the fucking therapy he’d been doing for the past eight months for not pushing Jamie away but instead allowing the other to hold him, and allowing himself to hesitantly wrap his arms around him in turn. Fuck Nate. Fuck Beard. Fuck the team. Fuck anyone who thinks they get to have opinions on that.

He’s got an inch on Jamie, but Jamie’s broader, solid and strong. Steady, as he puts a hand on the back of Roy’s neck, murmuring nonsense that Roy knows is supposed to be soothing, and which maybe is. Mostly, it’s reassuring to have Jamie there, whole and hale and safe.

“What’s going on? Is Phoebe all right? Did something happen to your sister? Keeley?” Jamie is starting to sound a little freaked out, and Roy realises that he can’t just stand there mutely forever and let the fears grow in Jamie’s mind, he needs to fucking say something, explain.

He’d rather never say another word.

Tough fucking luck, Kent. “Do you remember what I told you when you said you’d had sex with a dominatrix?”

The way Jamie stiffens tells him that, yeah, Jamie does. “Roy—“

Roy tightens his grip, not wanting Jamie to pull away. “Don’t fucking tell me it was fine, because you were a nightmare for the rest of that day, you were absolutely fucking horrible to everyone.” Worse than usual, lashing out—not that Roy had known it at the time, or had thought it anything more than Jamie being a fucking prick for no other reason than to be a prick.

For a few moments, Jamie doesn’t say anything. Then he lets out a long sigh, relaxing into the embrace and pressing his face against Roy’s neck. “Yeah, okay,” he mutters, “it was all shit, mate. I mean, all of it was, it wasn’t just you— But, Roy, listen… “ And now Jamie does pull back, just enough so that he can look at Roy. His eyes are tired, but the set of his jaw determined. “You fucking hated me, right? Back then, I mean. You hated me, ‘cause I was a prick, and I hated you, ‘cause you were a bitter old cunt.”

There’s no fucking denying it, is there. Roy gives a sharp nod. “Yeah, but—“

“No, let me just— I’m not saying that makes it all right, yeah, I just— You hated me, okay. But, would you have said what you said if you’d known what really happened?”

Roy’s lips twist into snarl. “What? No! Of course I wouldn’t fucking have— “ He might have ached to put Jamie’s head through a wall several times a day, but he wouldn’t have stood by for Jamie’s piece of shit father—

“See?” The little twat has the audacity to look triumphant at that, as if he’d scored a particularly neat goal. “That’s what I’m saying, yeah? Even when you hated my guts, you wouldn’t have said that, if you’d known what was going on. But you didn’t know, ‘cause I didn’t want you to, or anyone to, and I’m an amazing actor, yeah? So, like, it’s not fine, but it’s… Don’t beat yourself up over it, man. You didn’t know.”

It’s absolution, the kind Roy doesn’t think he deserves and the Jamie is far too quick to offer. But Jamie is also right: Roy hadn’t known. Wallowing in guilt won’t do anything to change the past, or help Jamie now.

“All right,” Roy says. “But that was still a shit thing to say and I wish hadn’t done it. You never deserved any of what that arsehole did to you, and if… fuck it, when I made you feel like I thought otherwise, that was my fucking bad, and I’m sorry.”

Jamie nods. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, man.” And there’s a tremulousness to his faint smile that makes Roy think that for all his claims to the contrary, it had still been something Jamie needed to hear.

It does Roy’s fucking head in that Jamie’s been up to see his dad several times since he got word that James Tartt is in rehab. But they’ve argued about that already, bitterly, and Roy has very reluctantly admitted that it’s not his call. All he can do is offer Jamie whatever support he needs, whenever he wants it.

Clearing his throat, Roy gives Jaime an awkward pat on the shoulder before carefully extricating himself fully from the hug. “We’re still on for dinner with Keeley tonight?” He’ll make Jamie’s favourite dish, he decides. Throw in some dessert.

“Yeah, of course, yeah.”

“Good.” He jerks his head to the door. “Go on then, tell the lads to get on the pitch, and we’ll be there in a minute.”

“Yes, Coach.”

As the door shuts behind him, Roy turns on Beard and Nate who – wisely – don’t say anything.

“I don’t want to fucking talk about this,” he tells them sharply. “I don’t want you mentioning a fucking word of it ever again.” Because maybe he’s gotten to a point where having a fucking breakdown and hugging it out with Jamie in front of them isn’t the end of the world (even if it’s a near fucking thing), but if someone tries to make him discuss it, he’ll need to start head-butting people, and he’s been trying to stay off that since he became manager, because it just isn’t a good look, is it, and he’s trying to be better about that sort of thing.

Nate and Beard glance at each other. Roy doesn’t really care for the knowing look in their eyes, but they merely offer a nod and a yeah, yeah, of course, sure in reply, and that will have to do.

In this messed up world, a lot of things would have to fucking do.

“Right,” Roy says, already moving to follow Jamie. “I’ll see you on the fucking pitch.”

---

A/N: This was supposed to be the fourth of the stand alone ficlets I call The Locker Room Conversations, but it got quite a bit darker (and less team focused) than I usually do for those, so I’m not sure. I’ll sit on it for a bit, maybe fiddle a little, and see where I put it when it goes up on AO3 eventually.

If you like the idea of the team uncovering sad truths about Jamie’s past and are into heavier angst (and more of the team taking care of Jamie), I highly recommend checking out i should be the poster kid for this shit by anotherlongstoryshort / babytarttdoodoo

#well-intentioned ribbing lead to unhappy revelations #and references to earlier abuse #and roy having all the emotions about it #there’s also a very long hug because a girl’s gotta get her kicks somehow #james tartt sr is mentioned and his own warning #hurt/comfort #angst #roy kent #jamie tartt #roy & jamie #afc richmond #a team of himbos #who mean well even when they get it wrong #fic #my stuff

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nakachuchu · 10 months

Text

Enjoyment | Gojo Satoru

SYNOPSIS: You didn't enjoy things in life until meeting Gojo.

READER: female

WORDS: 1.1k

WRITTEN: 07/24/2023

NOTE: Thank you for requesting! Sorry this is more "I don't care" than "I'm ditzy." Feel free to request again for anything!

You just could not give a fuck. You really could not. You hated responsibility. You hated having to bear the weight of a million mountains, just to die regretful in the end.

The world of Jujutsu was full of drama and hierarchies that would always put you below because of your gender.

No matter how powerful you were, you would never hold the same status as a man. That was a reason that continued to your personality.

People higher-up didn't like to meet with you in person or even talk to you over the phone because you just didn't care.

Your brain was numb and you found no enjoyment in things. No matter how much you slept or how many vitamins you swallowed like drugs, you were always so tired.

You did your job. You did what you were commanded and you would repeat the cycle over and over again.

Most things were deaf to you. Whatever people said, if it wasn't of utmost importance relating to your job as a sorceress, then your ears would fold over.

Maybe you had heard of the name Gojo or Satoru, but never Gojo Satoru, the holder of the Six Eyes. You never heard his full title, so you had no clue who he was until you saw him.

It was cliche to say that his beauty captured your attention. His beauty captured every women's attention, but it was a miracle for your attention span to be held.

You shrugged him off when you saw his sparkling blue eyes and white eyelashes flutter on his date with a woman in a cafe.

You carried on with your day for weeks until you saw him again at the Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School.

As a student from the Kyoto Prefectural Jujutsu High School, you never crossed paths with him. The slight age gap helped that as well. You were five years older than him at the time.

You were at the Tokyo site to have a meeting with Yaga on the subject of Itadori Yuuji. The subject of Gojo Satoru came into the conversation, and all you could respond with was "Who?"

Your question was so dead serious that Yaga couldn't tell if you were pulling his leg or not. When he finally realized you were being serious, he stood up without a word and dragged you over to Gojo before he could leave campus.

"This is Gojo Satoru," said Yaga.

You tilted your head. "I'm L/N Y/N."

"No, he's Gojo Satoru, the Six Eyes holder," Yaga said, exhausted by the limited space in your brain.

You hummed and leaned forward, looking up at Gojo who had an amused smile on his face. "Do you really have six eyes or what? Is that why you wear a blindfold?"

"Actually, I do have six eyes. The sun hurts, you know, if I don't wear my blindfold."

Yaga smacked Gojo — as much as he possibly could due to his infinity being turned on. "Be serious."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered. "I only have two eyes."

You leaned back. "Boring. I'll be going now. See you whenever, Yaga."

You walked away with a lazy wave, yawning in the process. Gojo watched you walk away, intrigued by your nonchalant attitude and apparent lack of interest in him.

As one of the most powerful sorcerers alive, he was used to people fawning over him or being intimidated by his presence. But you seemed completely unfazed.

Over the next few weeks, Gojo found himself thinking about you more often than he expected. He learned your name was Y/N and that you were a talented jujutsu sorceress from Kyoto, despite your bored disposition. He started finding excuses to be around Kyoto more often, hoping to run into you again.

One day, Gojo "happened" to show up at the Kyoto Jujutsu High School while you were teaching a class. As your students whispered excitedly about the unexpected guest, you raised an eyebrow.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Gojo-san?" you asked dryly after class.

Gojo grinned. "I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by to see you."

You stared at him. "Is that so? Well, I'm afraid I'm quite busy today." You started to walk away.

Gojo felt challenged by your continued indifference to him. "Let me take you out for tea," he offered.

You paused, contemplating his request.

"Tea's boring," you said pointedly before walking off.

"Coffee?"

"I want ice cream."

"Deal," he said.

"You're buying."

Over ice cream that afternoon, the two of you slowly opened up more to each other. Underneath your bored facade, Gojo was surprised to find a sharp intellect and wry sense of humor.

That day marked the start of an unlikely relationship between you both. Your contrasts balanced each other out in ways neither expected.

Because of Gojo, you began to find enjoyment in certain things. You liked going out for sweets with him, but you liked it even more when he paid for things.

The man was loaded and nothing was stopping you from taking advantage of that old money he had in his pockets.

"I feel a bit hurt you're using me for money," he said as he watched you eat dango.

"You should be honored," you said through a mouthful.

Gojo let out an exaggerated sigh. "I suppose I should be honored that a beauty like yourself wants to spend time with me, even if it is just for my money."

You rolled your eyes as you finished up the last dango stick. "Don't flatter yourself too much. I'm mostly here for the free food."

"But you don't deny you find me handsome," Gojo said with a smirk.

"I never said that."

"You didn't have to. I can tell."

You gave him an irritated look, though amusement shone in your eyes. As much as you hated to admit it, you were starting to enjoy Gojo's company. His confidence bordering on arrogance used to annoy you, but now you found it almost endearing.

After finishing the dango, the two of you took a stroll through the park. The weather was pleasant, with cherry blossoms in full bloom.

You talked about nothing in particular, simply enjoying each other's presence. As the sun began to set, Gojo walked you home. At your door, he paused.

"I had a nice time today," he said.

You nodded. "I guess you can take me out again, as long as you keep paying."

Gojo grinned. "It's a deal."

He started to lean in, then stopped, waiting for permission. You closed the distance between you and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

When you pulled back, Gojo looked pleased.

"So does this mean I get to call you my girlfriend now?"

"Don't push it," you said.

But you did squeeze his hand before disappearing inside your apartment.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader

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lunatiqez · 1 year

Text

“BACK HOME” — Alex Keller x Reader

PAIRING: Alex Keller x Reader

GENRE: Smut

SUMMARY: Alex’s departure to Urzikstan has left both of you yearning for each other. Fortunately, when he gets back, he makes sure he gives you all of his attention.

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

A/N: DNI IF YOURE A STRICTLY 18+/MDNI ACC. FOLLOW YOUR OWN RULES!!! Ty to @lu-vin-it for proofreading Ilysm! Reader is AFAB

16 DAYS. YOU HADN’T SEEN ALEX IN 16 days. This shouldn’t be a big deal, but you were craving him. You were craving his touch, his smell, his voice, him. You shouldn’t be this attached, but he was so incaptivating— how could someone not be in love with him? He was the most charming man you’d ever met and you fell for him as soon as you saw him. It was rather embarrassing.

“Alex,” you said, leaning against the counter. You had your phone perched on your shoulder and you were holding it with the side of your head as you chopped up a cucumber.

“I know, I know.” He said in a defeated tone. “Believe me, hun, I miss you just as much as you miss me.”

“Well when will you be back?” You asked.

“Few days, shouldn’t take me that long to get back.”

“Babe..” you said in a whiny voice.

“Y/N, I’ll be back before you know it, just keep callin’ me every night, will ya? ‘Ts the only thing keeping me sane down here.” You groaned.

Alex only had 12 days of deployment, but because of where he was going, Urzikstan, it would take at least 3 days to fly from the US to there and vice versa. So, in reality, he had been gone for about two weeks— not including his flight back of course.

“Okay, I love you Keller. Stay safe,” You said, getting ready to end the phone call.

“Love you too, baby. And I will, don’t you worry your pretty little head.” You smiled and shook your head. He made a kissy sound on the other end of the line and hung up.

You put your phone on the counter and walked over to the couch with your snack. Sitting down, you grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. You flicked through channels until you found something to your liking.

You ended up falling asleep on the couch. When you woke up, it was dark and the living room was only illuminated by the television playing some random channel that only came on at night. You looked around for your phone and then remembered that it was on the counter. You hurried to it, forgetting to call Alex that night.

You scrolled through the plethora of notifications from different social media sites until you saw Alex’s missed calls and text messages. You read through them quickly and then called him. The phone rang for a while before he picked up.

“Hello?” He said in a groggy voice.

“Hi my love, did I wake you?” You worried.

“Mm, no..I was just uh..busy.”

“With what?” You asked curiously.

“Y’know, stuff.” You decided to let it go, assuming it’d be easier to do so.

“Hmm, well I fell asleep on the couch, sorry I didn’t answer earlier.”

“Don’t you worry babe. I didn’t mind.” You hummed.

“So whatcha doin’?” He asked you.

“Getting all the blankets and stuff put away. The house is a mess, I really need to clean it up before you get back home.” You bent down, picking up the blankets that were laying on the floor, causing you to make a little groan. You heard a heavy breath from the phone. “What about you?” You asked.

“Layin here. Missing you.” Alex said smoothly. You chuckled.

“How was your day?” You asked him, walking to your bedroom.

“Boring,” he said unenthusiastically. “And yours?”

“Same here, just kinda laid around all day. But tomorrow I’m gonna get more stuff done! So you come back to a nice clean house.” You giggled, another heavy sigh. You quirked an eyebrow up and it was silent for a moment.

“Keep talking’, love.” He said, although it sounded more like a plea rather than a normal request.

“About what?” You asked him, now laying on your stomach on the bed.

“Anything, please just keep talking…”

“Alright….let me think….” You were quiet for a moment, long enough to hear a low moan come from the other end. You felt your cheeks warm and your eyes widen.

“Hey, Alex?” You asked, getting his attention.

“Mm?” Is all he could muster out.

“What’re you doing right now?”

“Nothin, nothing doll…just keep talking. Please.”

“Hm.. okay. What pajamas should I wear? I need to change.”

“Fuck..” he groans. “Remember those pretty red ones?”

“My lingerie?” You ask him, flustered.

“Mhm, those ones. Wear those ones.” He huffs. You giggle and immediately spring out of bed to put them on.

“Y/N?” You hear from the speaker on the phone, along with another low moan.

“Yeah?” You asked, feeling the warmth between your legs. You had already known what he was doing, but it was like the realization had just set in.

“Can you…. can you send pictures too? I wanna see how pretty you look in them.”

“Of course, Alex.” You giggled as you heard a sigh, presumably from the petname.

There was silence for a moment, with only the lewd sounds from your phone interrupting it.

“Y’know, Alex,” your voice was drawn out, seductive. “You don’t have to hide what you’re doing.”

“Huh?” He asked innocently.

“Just be honest with me, you’re not doing a very good job of hiding it, anyways.” A whimper came from his mouth.

“Fine, I’m..just- send me the pictures, please baby.” He pleaded. Your breath hitched at his whimpers and you clenched your thighs together in an attempt to create friction. Without hesitation, you went over to your body mirror and began taking photos. You took a ton of pictures, but only sent him the ones that looked best— the ones that were the most teasing. When they sent and you saw the “read” by your text message, you heard him say your name quietly. You giggled and your hand slowly traveled down to the waistband of your panties, toying with yourself. You slid a finger into your folds and moaned slightly, catching Alex’s attention and making him chuckle.

“You touchin’ yourself, doll?” He asked.

“Mhm..” you said shamelessly, he let out another chuckle.

You dipped two fingers into your, now wet, cunt. Moaning louder at the pleasure.

“Fuck, makin all these pretty sounds just for me, princess?” You nodded, despite knowing he wouldn’t see it.

“Need you, need you Alex..” You whined. “Need you so bad.”

“I need you too dolly, fuck…” he moaned. “Just a few more days, mm? You can handle that can’t ya?” He asked you.

“Don’ know..” you whimpered and curled your fingers inside of you, adding to your pleasure.

“You can do it for me.”

The rest of the call was filled with groans of pleasure coming from the both of you. You finished first, but Alex came quickly after due to you moaning his name. He couldn’t wait to get home.

The two of you fell asleep on call that night, and when you woke up, he was gone.

The next few days couldn’t have gone any slower. It was excruciating. You texted him every few hours.

“When will you be home?”

“Where are you now?”

“Can you ask the pilot to go faster?”

“Jk lol. Love you 🩶!”

It felt like ages before he got home, but when you heard that front door unlock and the sound of keys jingling, you sprinted to the living room.

Without warning, you ran towards him and pounced into his grasp. He stumbled back a bit, but then reciprocated the hug.

“Hey little missy, been a while.” He laughed. You only buried your face deeper into him.

“Whatdya say we go into the bedroom, hm? ‘Ts been a looong 2 weeks.” As soon as you heard his suggestion, your stomach erupted with butterflies.

You took him by his hand and led him to your shared room. He chuckled with delight at your persistence. You were so needy for him that nothing else mattered. He slipped his shirt off, leaving his beautiful figure exposed. You did the same swiftly, not saying a word.

“Needy, are we?” He teased. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll fuck you real nice.” You practically drooled over his words.

After the two of you were undressed, he laid you gently on the bed and towered over you. He leaned down, kissing you softly. Alex’s kissed trailed down your cheek, then your neck. Your collarbones, your chest—remembering to swirl his tongue around your nipple and earning a little moan from you. The man laughed against your chest, vibrating slightly around your nipple and sending shocks straight to your cunt.

He continued down until he was at your pelvic bone. Alex took his time kissing your hips, your thighs, and your abdomen. You pouted at his obvious teasing and grabbed a fistful of his hair in anticipation.

Finally, he kicked a stripe between your folds, making you jolt. He swirled his tongue in all of the right places, his mustache tickling your inner thighs. Eventually, his actions got himself painfully hard and he mindlessly began rutting against the side of the mattress while he was eating you out. You noticed this and encased him between your thighs, the knot in your stomach beginning to form.

He gripped your thighs tightly, fingernail marks being left in the supple flesh almost immediately. He ate you out like a starved man, and it felt so fucking good. He pulled his head out to look at the mess you’ve made, a string of juices connected to his lips and his chin glistening. He smiles proudly and spits on your cunt, making you clench around nothing.

Finally, the knot unravels. You find yourself in a complete state of bliss, cumming around nothing; putting a show on for Alex. He smiles brightly and chuckles at you.

“Look at that, doll! Came from just my tongue,” he says— almost brags. You whine and reach your hand out for him, already too fucked out to say anything.

“You’re so perfect, Y/N. So, so perfect..” he praised you, making you smile down at him through half-lidded eyes.

“Think you can go again?” He grinned innocently and you nodded.

He then got up and lined himself up with your pussy and thrusted himself inside of you. You moaned at the feeling, the feeling you had been yearning for.

He thrusted once more, your moans mixed with his and made a melodious sound— music to his ears.

He leaned above you, his metal dog tags against your chest. You locked eyes with him and pulled him down to kiss you, grabbing his hair eagerly. He kissed you back sloppily, your teeth clashing together. You could taste yourself on his tongue and lips and it was heavenly. He stayed pounding into you and his hands stayed glued to your hips so tightly you were sure they were going to leave bruises.

Not that you minded, though.

Only panting and filthy sounds were audible now, the two of you too lust-filled to say anything more. Finally, with one last brutal thrust, both you and Alex came, your juices mixing together. He pulled out and laid beside you, the empty feeling making you whine.

“Still not done yet, huh doll?” He asked in disbelief.

You shook your head frantically and turned on your side, pawing at him.

“I’m so exhausted, dolly,” he teased. You whimpered and propped yourself on top of him.

“If ya need to cum again, you gotta work for it.” He smirked at you.

You lowered yourself down on him and he choked back a moan, obviously enjoying how you used him.

Once he was bottomed out in you, you began bouncing on his cock. He groaned pleasurably and ghosted his hands on your figure.

You continue grinding and humping and doing everything in your power to make yourself cum on Alex’s cock, but he doesn’t even bat an eye. Why would he? He’s so sleepy, there’s nothing he can do about that. All he can do is watch you fuck your pretty self on his dick.

You intertwine your hands with him in an attempt to ground yourself as you slowly reach your high. You look at him with lust, begging him to fuck you and make you cum.

He grins at you and holds your hands tighter as you chase your climax, your pussy clenching around him.

He suppresses a moan as you continue to ride him, the feeling becoming unbearable. Finally, you cum for the third time and collapse onto him.

Alex holds you close and rubs the small of your back, his other hand gripping the soft flesh of your ass.

He’s glad to be home.

#cod #call of duty #cod x reader #cod x you #cod x y/n #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #call of duty x y/n #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #cod smut #call of duty smut #Alex Keller #alex keller x reader #alex keller x you #Alex Keller x y/n #Alex Keller smut #smut

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justallihere · 2 months

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Hi there! Welcome - I'm Alli (she/her). I like concerts, books, and science. My favorite color is pink and my favorite band is Fall Out Boy. At this time I'm writing fics for The Empyrean (Fourth Wing) series, but someday in the future I might expand that list. Thanks for joining the chaos!

Most of you probably know me from AO3 by the same username. Below you can find my entire masterlist of fics as well as some frequently asked questions. If there's something you'd like to know that isn't addressed below, my ask box is always open 🫶🏻

✨ masterlist:

storm in the quiet (E)

Xaden/Violet, arranged marriage AU, > 200k words, ongoing

It took only a few minutes for Violet to figure out what purpose she served. No one said it out loud—not yet, but they’d get there—but they kept throwing out words like formalizing alliances and uniting two groups, and she understood. Violet was a sacrificial lamb, and Xaden Riorson was the wolf, and her slaughter would be their marriage.

(find sitq deleted moments here, here, and here)

simmer (E)

Xaden/Violet, one shot, 4.1k words, complete

The night that Tairn began channeling to Violet, she didn’t stumble upon Xaden in the snow. She found someone else to take care of her, and when Xaden realized, he was less than amused.

violence in my veins (E)

Xaden/Violet, one shot, 4.1k words, complete

The Riders’ Quadrant had something of an obsession with piercings. The only person Violet Sorrengail knew without any was, of course, Xaden Riorson. Or so she thought.

invisible in a violet sea (E)

Xaden/Violet, one shot, 2k words, complete

“It’s just me here, love. Tell me what you need so badly, Violence.” There was something about the way he said the private nickname in this context, with his voice low and husky, that made it feel entirely different from every other time he called her that. Like it was reverent and special and it, like her, belonged only to him. “You,” she said. “I need you, Xaden.”

void of all composure (E)

Liam/Violet/Cam, one shot, 2.8k words, complete

Liam Mairi figured it couldn’t be that hard to keep Violet Sorrengail out of trouble. Unfortunately, he didn’t account for the fact that her version of trouble was Cam Tauri, and Liam was certainly going to go down with her.

somehow i still love you more (G)

Xaden/Violet, kid fic, one shot, 800 words, complete

Xaden’s favorite time was the middle of the night, when his wife slept peacefully and he got to hold his daughter and watch the snow falling.

✨FAQs:

Do you have an update schedule?

Nope. Fanfic is a hobby for me—I have other responsibilities and a full-time job. I write because it’s fun, and in order for it to stay that way I write and post as I’m able, and sometimes I step away for a week or two to maintain my own sanity. Unless I specifically say it, I promise my fics aren’t abandoned just because it’s been a few days without a new chapter. Please don’t ask me about updates!

Do you take requests for fics?

I do not. I write things that I love or am inspired by. Trying to conform to specific requests kind of sucks the joy out of writing for me.

Can I write something inspired by your fics?

Go for it! Fanfiction is fanfiction. At the end of the day we’re all just playing in the same sandbox, and the tropes and ideas I use aren’t unique. Twist them however you want, and have fun writing your own take on them. If you want others to know where your inspiration came from, you can use the “inspired by” function on AO3, or link back to my fic in some way if you’re posting your work on another site. That can also be helpful for readers to find similar works.

Can I bind your fics?

Yes, for personal use only. You may not commission any third party that would make a profit off binding the fic to do the work for you. You may not sell bound copies of my fics. Everything I’ve written has been done for free, as my own personal love letter from me to fandom. Keep fanfiction safe and legal. And send me pictures—I’d love to see your finished projects!

Will you ever write your own book?

I'd love to one day! I have lots of ideas floating around at all times, even though I don't talk about them much. I promise if I ever publish any original works, you'll know.

How long will storm in the quiet be?

Right now I’m estimating about 55-60 chapters—that’s just a best guess, if it changes as we get closer to the end, I’ll update this answer.

Will storm in the quiet have a sequel?

Nope.

Are you going to kill Liam?

No. I promise. I know you’re all traumatized, but please read the tags on AO3. There’s one that says “Liam lives!” and it means he lives all the way to the end and it’s not a joke 😅

When will Xaden and Violet fuck?

Never if you keep testing me. Enjoy the slow burn! I’m begging! (And if you can’t, go check out my one shots. They’re very smutty.)

✨ other info:

Find some of my favorite book recs here

Some great Fourth Wing fic recs here (my own faves and a lot of other good ones that I missed in the comments)

If you’re interested in what I might be currently reading, click here

#about me

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desafinado · 1 year

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♡‧₊˚ little things they do that make you smile

a source of small but certain happiness can sustain you a lifetime

°｡⋆ fluff, a bit ooc alhaitham, like one swear word, just a tiny bit suggestive?

°｡⋆ alhaitham, kaeya, kaveh, xiao x reader (wc: 626)

note: i'm trying something a bit shorter, so that i can post at least once a week!! i already have some papers due as well as an…interesting… group mate (i hate real men sigh) so there's that :’)

alhaitham ♡

leaving notes for you in the books he reads; ever since he noticed you borrowing books from his collection, he started leaving little annotations here and there. whether it be a book about the ecological history of avidya forest or the subtle art of not giving a fuck, you can bet he’s leaving a little message for you, words of encouragement (“this is where it gets interesting, i promise.”) and passive aggressive critiques on the text (“ngl, this part reads like a drunken rant”). you can imagine his face, his voice, and his gaze as you read, so it's only given that you let out the most giggly smile. he even knows when a chapter or two can be exceptionally boring for you, so he'll write a proposition on the top of the page. “hmm, why don’t you come into my room and i could read it to you instead?”

kaeya ♡

greeting you by hugging you from the back; he was never one to shy away from pda, so he never really cared about the stares he’d get from abruptly hugging you from behind. it came about when he had gone through a particularly tiring mission; he had missed you so dearly that the moment he saw you at the kitchen making some dinner, he clung onto you tightly. it took you by surprise the first few times, of course, he did when you’d least expect him, but you quickly grew to love it, getting familiar with his touch, his soft breathing tickling your neck. you’d be at the market talking to some vendors when you suddenly feel a warmth around your waist. it was definitely a welcomed warmth, and you’d often greet him back with a kiss on the forehead. fighting a smile against his warm embrace is like denying yourself entry to heaven; he’s always right there for you, and you only need to let him in.

kaveh ♡

massaging your shoulders after a long day; he’s had his fair share of stupidly stressful days, but he’d take the hit for you any day if he could. the next best thing he can offer is a massage with some sweet smelling essential oils. you don’t even need to say a thing; the moment you enter with that hunched over posture, darkened eyes, and breathless voice, he knows what must be done. you don’t want to trouble him, that’s the last thing you’d want to do, but he practically nags you until you give in; he’s a romantic, can you blame him? he’s dedicated to seeing you happy, no matter what it takes, and how right he was, because within a minute you’ll be sighing in pure bliss; he can’t help but chuckle as you surrender to his affections. nowadays, it’s almost instantaneous how you fall into his arms, trusting him with your body.

xiao ♡

lying down next to you, doing absolutely nothing but enjoying your company. it’s rare for you to have moments like these, moments where he’s not brooding over his past sins or in pain for them; in these moments, he only cares about the both of you and the future you might have tomorrow. he’ll caress your cheek mumbling something about how he can’t believe how unreal you look or simply close his eyes and hold your hand, squeezing it gently. it’s especially endearing when he seems to fall asleep, his faint snoring is the only thing to be heard. he looks so peaceful like this, you can’t restrain the audible “aw” that comes out of your lips. after staring at his carefree state for a few more minutes, you get into your own comfortable position (usually cuddling him, burying your face into his chest) and fall asleep next to him.

requests are open!! please do not repost on other sites.

#alhaitham #kaeya #kaveh #xiao #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #alhaitham x reader #kaeya x reader #kaveh x reader #xiao x reader #genshin impact #fluff #airi.writes #airi.dbf

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avocado-writing · 6 months

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Kinktober 31

31. Reverse au

notes: we made it! I’d like to give a big thank you to everyone who’s been consistently reblogging my fics & commenting this month. You’ve given me the push to keep going! I wouldn’t have done this without you. And of course my friend & beta, M. Thank you for looking over my porn and pointing out my spelling mistakes (sincerely). 😌

You are never happier than when you’re with your angel and your demon.

They are two utterly, utterly different souls, brought together by their adoration of each other and of you. You cannot thank the universe enough for them. They are a salve to your soul, the reason you want to come home every day. They are your dearest reward and most stable constant.

They are your husbands, and you love them.

You get home late that night, letting yourself into the back of the plant shop with the keys Crowley trusts you with. There’s two keyrings on them: an AC/DC one Zira got you when you went to see their Back in Black tour back in the 80s, and one you picked up from a museum where some of your finds were being put on display. It has a little dinosaur skeleton motif and reads ‘I dig you’. You laughed at it for so long Crowley bought a handful of them, just in case they ever fell apart.

“Boys?” you call.

“In the dining room, my love!” Crowley chirps. You leave your suitcase by the door, deciding you’ll be bothered to unpack it later, and head towards them.

You grin when you see what they’ve laid out.

“What’s all this?”

The table is set with Crowley’s fine china, three places set by candlelight. Dinner, your favourite, has been set out on serving platters. Even Zira has managed to dress up in a black dress shirt which he has the top buttons undone on and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows for. Crowley is dressed in another new suit, but it’s your favourite colour, so you’ll let it slide without comment.

“We missed you, gorgeous,” Zira says with a grin as he pours you a glass of merlot. Crowley gets up and pulls your chair out for you, and you chuckle at the chivalry of it.

“I’ve only been away for a couple of weeks.”

“Mmm, which is the longest we’ve been apart since that stint in 2008,” Zira remarks.

“Oh, right. The apocalypse thing. I suppose it has, hasn’t it?”

“Well, you’re back now. How was the dig, my love?”

You eat and go into detail about your time away, the site you were excavating. Roman villa. Not one you ever visited personally, but similar enough in style to ones you saw at the time for you to be able to lead the team in the right direction. Your husbands listen, hanging on your every word; Zira eating far more than you actually remember being cooked and Crowley taking the occasional bite and sipping his wine, dabbing his mouth gently with the edge of his napkin.

They love hearing about your day. When you’re all caught up with each other, Crowley reaches across to rest his hand on yours.

“You realise what today is, don’t your darling?”

You furrow your brow.

“Saturday?”

“Well, yes. But it’s our anniversary.”

You immediately start fiddling with your wedding ring, confused.

“No it isn’t? Our anniversary is —”

“Not that one,” Zira says through a mouthful of chocolate cake. “The other one.”

Oh. Oh.

“Oh my god, when we all met each other again. How could I forget?” you whisper. Crowley smiles.

“And when we all fuc—”

“Yes, thank you Zira,” says Crowley, pursing his lips. “You’ve been busy darling, it’s alright.”

You cast your mind back to that night in 1656. You were so desperate for entertainment, your beloved theatre banned by that twat Cromwell, that you accepted an invitation by your friend Davenant to go and see his opera. Sneaky bastard had managed to get around the ban on plays by adding music to his work. You hadn’t been too sure but god were you glad you accepted because who else had been there but two handsome no-longer-strangers you never thought you’d see again.

Yes, the three of you had come back together. And then you came together in one of Davenant’s coat closets when you sneaked away during Act 2. The three of you have been inseparable since.

“Well,” you say, standing up and grabbing both of them by the collar, “I suppose we’d better celebrate.”

Zira kisses you first. He usually does. He tastes of wine and tobacco, a heady mix you’ve long since come to love. He presses you backwards into Crowley’s grasp and your angel begins to undress you, his nimble fingers making short work of everything above your torso. Zira wastes no time before beginning to fondle your chest, grinning as you keen against him.

“Fuck, two weeks is too long,” he growls on your lips.

“Quite right,” Crowley agrees, peppering kisses along the length of your arm, sucking your fingers into his mouth and moaning around them. You capture him in a kiss next, loving the way he begins to whine in need when you show him any attention whatsoever.

“Oh Zira, how did you deal with this one while I was away? Isn’t he a handful?” you say, wickedly, enthralled.

“I used a gag, honestly,” Zira chuckles lowly. Crowley immediately goes pink.

“I, I…”

“You’re a beautiful boy. And so are you, Zira.”

The demon chuckles.

“I scrub up alright.”

You sink to your knees before them, looking up with doe-eyes.

“Come on. I’ve missed being down here. Let me use my mouth, it’s been ever so empty without your cocks in it.”

The sentence has them immediately under your spell. They fiddle with their flies: Crowley on the trousers of his suit, Zira his black jeans which he considers ‘fancy’ wear. Soon they’re both in front of you, dripping and hard.

“Oh, look at the both of you. I’m away for a fortnight and you’re both desperate for me.”

“Yeah,” Zira chokes out, eyes blown wide. You circle a hand around them both and stroke them in tandem, working their shafts with your clever fingers. They’re both so different: Zira’s cock is girthy and thick, ruddy red at the head; Crowley’s longer and more slender with a slight upwards arch. You don’t have a favourite. You like both of them in every hole you have.

You start with Zira, knowing he’s the most impatient, taking him down your throat as you pump Crowley with your hand. The demon growls and buries his hands in your hair, dragging your mouth up and down the length of him as gently as he’s able to.

“Fu-uu-uck, like that, babe,” he growls. You let saliva build up and drip down your chin along with his pre-spend, a filthy cocktail landing on your bare chest. As he gets more ravenous for you you release him with a pop, switching your attention to Crowley, taking him down in one swallow.

“Oh–! Oh my goodness, I–” your angelic husband whines, keening his hips against you, desperate to feel the slide of his length across your tongue. You choke a little in a way that you don’t with Zira, grinning as tears sting your eyes.

You stay like that, fucking one with your hand and the other with your mouth, until you know they’re both about to come. At that point you bring them together, watching them kiss each other as you take the heads of both of them between your lips at once. Your tongue swirls a sinful sonata on them and they come at once, all over your face and chest and down your throat, they groan into each other’s mouths as Zira fists one hand in Crowley’s hair and the other in yours.

You barely have time to recuperate before Zira drags you to your feet, kissing you so he can taste the combined mix of their cum on your tongue. Then with a strength you forget he has he hefts you over one shoulder and Crowley over the other, marching you both to the bedroom as he miracles off his clothes.

“Zira–!” you squeak with glee, reaching down to slap his peachy arse as he goes.

“What? We all said it: two weeks is too long.”

He deposits you both on the bed and you don’t leave it for the rest of the night. They share you between them, sandwiching you between their bodies in the most heavenly and wicked way. Their cocks fill you up at once and they fuck you until you’re nothing but a ragged, exhausted shell between them, dripping with come and decorated with bruises and scratchmarks. All three of you are, actually: the signature of your lovemaking. Messy, intense, and always always gorgeous.

You snuggle between them as you relax in the afterglow. Zira has lit a cigarette and smokes it lazily, exhaling it in rings in the air above your bed. You pet Crowley’s hair and are thoroughly content with it all.

“Happy anniversary, my darlings.”

“Happy anniversary,” Crowley whispers from where his lips rest against your skin.

“Here’s for another four hundred years,” Zira chuckles, and you think you’d like that very much indeed.

@bootlmoth @elleofdragons @angelic-anarchy27 @yeethaw13 @candlewitch-cryptic @kwyn-q @rat-that-writes @buryustogether @letthenightingalessingagain @ltlthetrifecta @angiestopit @purplefrog1sblog @wereallbrokenangels @angelspathway @clarina04 @belilwen @chaospossum @eightsdoctor @oo-delallymrcrow @silcosmoke @climbingivy97 @live-logs-and-proper @project-sad @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @imagination-phantom @anonymously35 @corgis04 @peytonpenguin37 @catlynharper @unabashedgentlemenpirate @wolfe-houler

@darktealrat @mxxny-lupin @willbedecided @detectiveapparatiagreen @shadowluna25 @kaylinelizabeth4004 @xquinn-bartonx @blue-bell22 @foolishprincipalitee @fandomawesomeness @eweweweewewe @latersgaters-steven @llamaproblem @night-affiliate @randompost18 @hunterispunk @jessica-laufeysdottir @uxcaran @bunnymallowo @jae-michael @jelly-terror @larkiesparkie

#Fic: the light the dark and the spaces inbetween #Avo’s kt 23 #aziraphale x reader x crowley #crowley x reader x aziraphale #reverse au

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chloecherrysip · 1 year

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all the pain will change into a memory of when we were amazing (mario & luigi-centric post-movie fic, part 1!)

(My weekend got a little busier than I was expecting, but I was still DETERMINED to get this up today and hey, I succeeded!!! I will eventually post an AO3 version as well, so if you'd like to wait for that, you can (and I will of course link it here), but sharing on tumblr is just a little easier for me to start out with. :)

Remember that this is just the first part and there will be at least two or three more coming soon!! Like I've already said in other posts, this fic has become SO LONG that it needs to be split up a little just for ease of reading. The title comes from the song Casey by Darren Hayes, which for the record, is a song about siblings and really fits movie!verse Mario & Luigi's relationship, in my eyes. Also, just so you know, this part (and only this part) has some Mario/Peach moments as well! I hope you enjoy!)

It took roughly eleven hours to put Brooklyn back together.

Not to how it was before, just to be clear. Not even close. Just enough that you could no longer tell right away that it had been subjected to a catastrophic tear between dimensions or alternate realities or whatever the two worlds were in relation to one another — who even knew? Instead, it looked more like it had suffered a few earthquakes in quick succession, or a hurricane closely followed by a tornado for good measure. Y’know, normal disasters.

It would no doubt require weeks of work to fix the cracked roads, replace all the crushed cars, reassemble the shopfronts enough to reopen and finally, finally get rid of all the black chunks of molten rock and huge mushroom stalks that were still being found in the strangest crevices and alleyways. But there was a lot to be extremely grateful for too. It was an outright miracle that Bowser’s airship had happened to crash down into the empty construction site mere minutes before the workers were scheduled to get started, somehow missing all occupied buildings. Everyone on the block was unhurt and accounted for, and they all still had a mostly-intact place to sleep that night. That, Mario reasoned, was more than good enough for now.

He’d jumped headfirst into helping with the emergency cleanup efforts as best he could, of course. It was the very least he could do after unintentionally causing the whole mess to begin with, and Luigi had jumped right in alongside him, ready to go. The star had worn off — even if Mario was still seeing glimmering afterimages of rainbows in the corners of his eyes every time he blinked — but it seemed like there were some lingering aftereffects. They felt better than ever, every injury down to the slightest bruise or cut completely healed, an overflow of joyful energy humming pleasantly all through his core. Mario guessed it was some kinda mixture of leftover magic and his own adrenaline and relief, which probably could have kept him going strong for a long time all on its own. They’d actually made it home. They’d seen their parents and family again. His brother was back within arm's reach, smiling and solidly warm and safe. How could he not feel like he was on top of the world?

So they’d spent the rest of the day working with neighbors to clear debris and shattered glass, move cars safely out of the way that were too crushed to move on their own any longer, nail up boards to cover gaps where windows once were. There were various damaged water fixtures and pipes that desperately needed some TLC before they came entirely undone and caused more damage (thankfully, Mario knew two talented plumbers who were more than up to the task). And of course, there was the not-so-small matter of rounding up all of Bowser’s minions and stuffing them back through the pipe before they snuck further into the city and started causing mass chaos. Most of that went smoothly, thankfully (other than one notable incident of some Koopas messing around at a bowling alley and accidentally getting stuck in the ball return). The magician in the blue robe, the one with the wand, had vanished entirely, though. Luigi had been the first one to notice, nervously mentioning that he’d seemed important, like a second-in-command to Bowser. Mario didn’t like that one bit, but Peach reassured him that they would stay vigilant.

Speaking of Peach, she’d taken charge of the chaotic situation right away, her leadership skills shining bright in a way that left Mario quietly in awe. She’d personally overseen Bowser’s transfer and imprisonment back in the Mushroom Kingdom while also coordinating efforts on both sides of the warp pipe, DK and Toad providing support as they all passed back and forth between worlds several times throughout the day, transporting as much of Bowser’s broken-up airship back to where it came from as possible. Toad Town was still a mess from the invasion as well, and many of the Toads who’d evacuated needed to be helped back from the forests. Mario had only spent a little time there, but thinking about such a lively, cheerful place in abandoned disarray troubled him. He considered going back for a little while to help out there too, just to make sure everyone got home safe.

But the familiar warp pipe loomed before them, and Luigi’s smile strained. Mario, hand lightly pressed to his brother’s back, registered the sudden, new tenseness, the way his breathing became shallower, despite his best efforts to not let it show. And there was Mario’s answer. He wouldn’t put Luigi through that again, not so soon, and if Luigi wasn’t going, Mario wasn’t going — end of story. The thought of being an entire world away from him after everything they’d just struggled through, even briefly, was too much to handle. All day, that uneasiness had hung around him, the one wrinkle in his light-as-air happiness and boundless energy. He hadn’t even liked Luigi being out of his sight for too long as they worked on the cleanup, which he fully knew was silly and unreasonable. That was why he'd never breathed a word of the feeling outload, even when the discomfort settled in heavily like a bad stomachache.

It'll get better once a little more time goes by, Mario kept insisting to himself with a sure, stubborn forcefulness. What's there to be worried about? We made it, both of us. We're together. Everything's gonna be okay. It really is.

“Don’t worry! We’ve got it all under control,” Peach reassured him. “I promise. The Kongs are helping, and so are the penguins from the Ice Kingdom. We’re going to work with them to rebuild their castle as well. On the bright side, I think our alliances will be much, much stronger after this mess.”

“Are ya sure?” Mario couldn’t help but press, interlacing his fingers tightly. “I dunno, I just feel like I need to do something. If it wasn’t for you, all of you, I wouldn’t have gotten to Luigi in time.”

“Oh, and like you didn’t do even more to help us?” She gave the brim of his cap a flick that was somehow both playful and graceful. “Mario, you and your brother stopped Bowser in his tracks. Both of our worlds are safe from him now because of you two. If anything, we owe you! Toad was already talking about organizing a parade, or giving you both a chest of gold coins!”

“What? No, no, who needs all that?” Mario insisted, his face flushing a little. “Besides, those coins won’t even fit in my wallet! There probably isn’t an exchange rate or anything here for ‘em. Just my luck.”

“I thought as much.” She placed a fingertip to her pursed lips, tapping lightly as she pondered. “What about a house?”

“A whole house!?” Mario nearly choked on the air. “For free?”

Peach gave him an odd look and a shrug, as though it was perfectly reasonable in her world to offer someone she’d just met a few days ago real estate with absolutely no strings attached. “Why not? You and Luigi are always going to be known as heroes in the Mushroom Kingdom, you do realize. It's the least we could do. But…” She thought in silence for a moment longer and then smiled, the curve of it a little heavier, more subdued. “A house doesn’t do much if no one will be living in it, huh?”

Mario considered that. Across the sewer room, the black of the warp pipe’s insides spread out behind Peach, vast and unending. “That’s…yeah, that’s true,” he said, his shoulders sinking a bit. “For now, don’t worry about doing anything for us, all right?” He swallowed around a strange, new lump in his throat. “Before anything else happens, I just really need to make sure my family’s all right.”

Peach nodded. “And I need to make sure mine is too,” she said, voice warm with understanding.

She shot a meaningful glance over Mario’s head, and he followed her gaze to where Toad and Luigi were sitting off to the side. Toad was excitedly talking, making big, bombastic gestures with his pan as though he was reenacting something. Luigi, for his part, looked a little bewildered but interested, following along as best as he could manage with lots of nodding. The strain in Mario’s chest eased.

“But you’ll both visit before too long, right?” Peach brought his attention back to her, her tone pointed. “There’s still plenty of beautiful places to see in our world. We barely scratched the surface! But we can start with a nice cup of tea in the castle, of course.”

Mario couldn’t help but smile widely. “Definitely,” he said. “And besides, I already made a promise to DK before he headed back. Me and my “stupid overalls” have to give him a rematch at some point. C’mon, how can I pass up a chance to kick his furry butt all over again?”

“And I want to come back and visit this world again too!” She added excitedly. “I want to know more about the bowling we saw, and video games, and — what did you call that one thing? A calzone? — and well, everything!”

Mario laughed outright. “Sure, come back anytime! Luigi and me know allll the best spots in Brooklyn like the backs of our hands. With us, you’ll never have a bad time, guaranteed.”

Some bright, delighted mischief flashed in Peach’s eyes. “And besides,” she said, “your mom said she would show me some of your baby pictures next time. I have to see that because I can’t imagine you without a mustache, honestly. It just doesn’t seem possible.”

Mario’s laughter got less boisterous and much more strained in a big hurry. “Right, right,” he said, voice cracking. “Gotta remember to, heh, burn some of those before then.”

“Don’t you dare!”

With more than a little reluctance, she waved over at Toad, signaling that it was time for them to say goodbye.

“I’ve got to get out of this wedding dress already,” she joked, holding up the skirt so Mario could clearly see all the tears and scorch-marks and dark staining, all intermingled with white and glittering pink. On the top, she was wearing a new, light pink “I LOVE NY” shirt from a cheap souvenir store; Luigi had actually been the one to get it for her, having noticed that she was spending a lot of time standing out in the sun with her shoulders uncovered. At some point along the way, she'd also tied up her blonde hair in a messy ponytail to keep it out of the way. “What a disaster, huh?”

Mario honestly thought that she looked beautiful. But there was no way he could say that, and he also didn’t want to agree because that sounded rude. Thankfully, he had only had a few more seconds of mounting internal panic left to go on that subject before Toad and Luigi came over.

“Your brother’s just as cool as you are, Mario!” Toad brightly announced out of the blue, which in turn made Luigi jolt and blush behind him. “But I should have guessed! You guys are the SUPER Mario Brothers, after all!”

“Hey, I coulda told you that a lot sooner!” Mario grabbed Luigi around the middle with one arm and squeezed tight, enough to make his brother wriggle with a hoarse, surprised laugh. “He’s always got my back!”

“Hey, hey, I’m flattered, but there’s no way I’m as cool as Mario,” Luigi insisted, grabbing and squeezing Mario right back, playfully poking at his stomach. “Are ya kidding? This is the best guy in the world, c’mon! No contest!”

"You c'mon! Who came up with using a manhole cover as a shield out of the blue, huh?”

Luigi blinked a few times and then ducked his head down with a big, bashful grin. “Okay, maybe that was me.”

“Exactly.” He smushed his brother’s cap, ruffling his hair underneath. “What were you guys talking about, anyway?”

“Ohohoho, wouldn’t you like to know,” Toad insisted right away with a thick air of secrecy. He mimed locking his mouth with a key and then tossing it away, winking in Luigi's direction. “No need to be jealous, Mario. I can have two best friends.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Mario replied dryly.

“It was no big deal, r-really!” Luigi backed Toad up, a little too loudly. His eyes looked somewhat glassy, as though he was teetering on the verge of tears, but when Mario met his gaze full-on, worried all of a sudden, his brother smiled back, big and sincere and seemingly very happy. “We’re all good! Better than good! We’re great!”

Peach stepped forward, then. “You really made a difference when it counted most, Luigi,” she said warmly, taking one of his hands in her own and patting it. “Thank you again for that. I know you didn’t see the best our world has to offer, but I hope you’ll give us another chance soon enough.”

Luigi, having stiffened a little at her touch out of sheer surprise, relaxed again. “Of course, Peach — I mean, Princess Peach. Your highness? Ma’am!” He gave her a salute with the other hand, for some reason. “I, uh, definitely appreciate it.”

She let go of him and reached for Mario’s hand in turn. Out of the blue, he thought about kissing the back of it — she was a princess, right? Wasn’t that what people did in all the fairytale books? — but that was a silly idea, stupid enough to make the back of his neck burn from embarrassment. Instead, he simply held onto her tight for a long moment, reflecting her sweet smile back at her, his heart pleasantly fluttering.

Further down, Toad grabbed one of Mario’s legs and one of Luigi’s legs in both arms and hugged them fiercely at the same time, sniffling a little. They gave his head a few soft pats in return (and winced when he loudly blew his nose into their overalls).

“See you around, Mustache,” Peach said softly. She took a small step backwards towards the pipe but didn’t let go of him, their arms stretching out further. “And don’t forget what we talked about,” she added after a beat, delicate, maybe even the tiniest bit hopeful. “What I offered…it’s always on the table, if you ever do decide you want it.”

“I won’t forget,” he said in return, softer too. “Stay safe.”

She squeezed his hand one last time, and then she and Toad were gone. The warp pipe’s signature sound bounced off the impossibly high walls of the room they were in until it was just a tiny echo. Mario took a deep breath. He turned to find Luigi beaming at him, eyebrows raised high and wiggling a little at the ends.

"Shut up," he sighed.

“What!? I didn’t even say anything!” Luigi insisted, even as he continued to grin.

“Yes, you did. I can read your mind.” Even Mario’s sternest do NOT go there, I’m serious look could never do much when Luigi was ready to do some ruthless teasing, but he tried it anyway as they started to trudge towards the stairwell at a much slower pace then when they’d first come down it. When had he started to feel so tired? A big yawn fought its way up his throat before he could continue. “I just met her! We’re friends. That’s all there is to it, thank you and goodnight.”

“Look, you can't prove a thing, but if I was saying something, well, I'd start with the way she was looking at you.” Luigi whistled. Mario pulled down the brim of his cap, if only to hide the sudden warmth creeping into his face a little better. “She certainly seems like a princess with good taste, y’know?”

“All right, all right. Ya done?”

“As a matter of fact, I’m not! She’s already got a dress too, which is really convenient. After all, weddings are expensive—”

“Stop, Lu. You better not breathe a word of this back home! Cause you’re gonna get Ma and Dad all riled up too and then I’ll never hear the end of it."

“Are ya serious!? Oh, my poor, sweet, naïve Mario. They already smelled the blood in the water at least five hours back. They were talking about little blonde grandkids when you were in the bathroom and everything.”

At least the long trek ahead of them out of the sewers would give Mario time for his face to cool down to a normal temperature again. “Great, great, just what I need,” he grumbled. “Now I gotta find a princess for you to get the heat off me.”

“W-What!?” Luigi sputtered. “I mean, I wish. But a kingdom only has one princess, right? And you’re the lucky guy.”

“There wasn’t just one kingdom,” Mario mused. He was climbing the stairs by then, metal clanging with each step. “I betcha all the money I have that if I went looking around long enough over there, I could find a real cute royal out there who has a thing for the color green.”

He reached behind him to give Luigi’s shoulder a playful shove, only for his hand to meet nothing but air. Turning fully, he saw that his brother was moving a lot slower than he’d expected. He was still at the bottom of the stairs, clinging to the railing and blinking furiously, his gaze focused on nothing in particular.

“Luigi?” Mario asked hesitantly. “You good?”

Luigi perked up at that and gave a thumbs-up. “A-okay!” He chirped, starting to climb. “I just — whew. I’m a little, uh, dizzy. It feels like that crazy star hung around for a while, eh? Like, we weren’t super-powered anymore, but nothing hurt, and I still had tons of energy to do whatever I wanted. But now…”

“Yeah, I’m definitely feeling that too.” Mario realized it more clearly, his breathing already labored after only climbing one flight of stairs. The injuries weren’t back, thankfully, but he was aching all over, a new heaviness creeping into his bones more and more. Luigi was hurrying to catch up with him, moving unsteadily.

“Just go slow,” Mario called. “We’re not in a hurry. Be careful.”

It didn’t seem like Luigi heard him, still trying to talk as he climbed, huffing and puffing. “I mean, wow! We were running all over the place! We were fixing things! We were saving Brooklyn! But…huh. Something’s kinda weird.” His voice had dropped down into a mumble, so quiet and fast that Mario almost couldn’t understand him. “I’m having that pins-and-needles feeling, like my legs are asleep, but I’m still walking just fine. Right? Do I look normal walking? Be honest. I…I can’t tell.” He looked sleepy, and then he suddenly looked frightened, unfocused, as though he wasn’t even sure where he was at all. “Wait. Am I upside down? Mario…”

It happened so fast. With one last shuddery breath, Luigi’s eyes rolled back into his head. He started to fall backwards, about to topple down a nearly full flight of stairs.

Mario’s heart seized. “Luigi!”

He covered several steps in one desperate jump. Somehow, he managed to get one arm around his brother and pull him back with every last scrap of strength he had left, crushing their bodies together. The other arm, he wrenched over and around the railing blindly, worn metal scratching and squeaking against him painfully as he struggled to hold onto it. For a long, agonizing moment, the fight against gravity seemed like it was going to be too much to overcome, and Mario, teeth gritted, mentally prepared himself to turn them around in the air so he would take the brunt of the long fall. But miraculously, his shoes found enough purchase on the steps, and his aching grip lasted just long enough for Mario to pull their combined weight back in the other direction. The two collapsed in a heap against the ascending stairs instead.

Mario’s gasping breaths seemed like the only sound in the world, the echoes bouncing wildly all around.

“Luigi,” he finally managed to wheeze — quiet at first, then again, much louder. As gently and carefully as he could manage, he scooted up into a sitting position and turned his brother over onto his back, cradling him. He was still out cold. Mario patted his face. “Hey, Luigi. Come on, Lu, wake up for me, all right? I’m here. I’ve gotcha.” He patted a little harder, steadfastly ignoring the way his hands were trembling at that point. Every second passing with no change stretched on, an eternity and then some. “You’re all right, everything’s all right. Come on, Luigi, snap out of it…”

Up close, Luigi looked extremely pale, sweat beaded along the line of his cap. How had Mario not noticed that before? He’d been too caught up with all the cleanup efforts, too distracted by Peach and Toad and the thought of that hypothetical house. How could he not see that Luigi was starting to struggle? What kind of brother was he?

The kind that does something really, REALLY stupid because of pride or "destiny" or whatever you wanna call it. The kind that not only drags his brother down with him to do the stupid thing, but almost gets him killed because of it.

Mario's shoulders sagged. He gripped Luigi tighter, pressing his little brother's face close to the crook of his neck, if only to try and desperately ground himself in the knowledge that he could feel him breathing still, at least. Their injuries were gone, it was true, but for Mario, it was suddenly like the star had just shifted the pain around instead. He could feel it pressing up from under his skin, a deep well that was ready to split him open all the way through if he let it.

It no longer seemed like he'd just been in a magical world on a whirlwind adventure, or that he'd defeated a spiked turtle monster with anger issues and saved Brooklyn in a glorious, technicolor blur. Now, he was just a small, ordinary man in a dark sewer room underground, exhausted and terrified and unable to help the person he loved most.

All of a sudden, Luigi jolted under his hands. “Noooo more flambé for me, thankyouverymuch, I’m-a good!” He shouted, the words slurred together to the point of being nearly unintelligible. With a handful of slow, very confused blinks, he finally managed to focus on Mario’s extremely relieved face overhead. “Waaaaaaait. Whuh happen?”

Mario bundled up all those sharp, aching feelings behind a new wall and regathered himself. No matter what, he was going to stay strong, stay in control. He needed to do that for Luigi’s sake. There was no other choice. “You went down like a big sack of bricks, ya lug,” he tried to joke, even as his voice cracked badly on the last word. “Nearly gave me a heart attack! Are you okay?”

Luigi considered this information, eyes unclouding bit by bit. “I’m sorry,” he finally said, soft, a little embarrassed. “Y-Yeah, I think I’m good. I, uh, don’t really know what happened there! It was like…it all just hit me at once, I guess.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Mario worried his bottom lip between his teeth. “When’s the last time you slept, bro?”

Discomfort crept into Luigi’s expression at that. He looked away from Mario, not able to meet his gaze for more than a few seconds at a time. “Well, I dunno if I — I was wandering around for a while, and then I couldn’t really sleep in that cage, y’know? All that lava made the metal real hot, so I had to keep moving to not get burned, and you have no idea how hard it is to nod off when there’s a creepy star laughing its head — body? — head off in the next cage over, and, and...well, I’m sure I got an hour here and there,” he scoffed lightheartedly, waving off the thought with a wobbly sweep of his hand through the air. “Nothing worse than those all-nighters in high school!”

“You almost had a nervous breakdown because of those all-nighters,” Mario said. His grip on Luigi’s shoulder tightened, fingers winding snug in the green material. “And…what about food? Water? We’ve been go-go-go all day. I didn’t even think about…”

A brand-new sense of dawning horror came over Mario, sudden enough that he trailed off. He couldn't remember them ever taking a break, even sitting down in the shade for a few minutes. There'd just been so much to do, so many people in need of help, and the two of them had felt so good, laughing and joking and keeping up with no problems whatsoever. The time had flown by. But now...

“Pfft, who needs it?” Luigi said, extremely casually and extremely unconvincingly. He coughed, closing his eyes again for a long moment, resting his cheek sleepily against Mario’s chest. “Hmm. A guard gave me some sips a couple of times? And there was some weird bread. I think it was bread. Who even knows? It was stale like croutons. Not like the really good garlic ones Ma makes, though. These were like…like erasers or something. Blech.”

A few sips of water and some "bread." A couple of hours of sleep, if that. Luigi was on his own, scared and struggling and eventually imprisoned in a maniac’s floating lava airship, for over two full days.

“Well, no wonder you passed out,” Mario sighed, rough and very quiet. He had to talk like that — any louder, and his voice was going to become too unwieldy. It already felt like someone had promptly stuffed his heart into a blender and cranked it up to the highest setting. “Speaking of Ma, she’s probably got a full spread out by now. I’m gonna get you home, you’re gonna eat until you pop, and,” he had to pause for a moment to swallow, his throat hurting, “and then you’re gonna sleep until you can’t anymore, okay? That’s what we’re doing.”

Luigi sighed too, his smile resurfacing. “Man, that sounds like heaven. What are we waiting for?” He started to sit up with newfound determination, only for the dizzying sight of the stairs descending down into the dark beneath them to make his motions distinctly more rubbery again in a hurry. He sunk back into Mario’s arms, breathing faster, eyes closed again.

“Just, uh, one more minute," he half-wheezed. "Nothing to worry about, I’m getting up right now, I swear, but…is it just me or is it really, really hot down here? Those burns I had, they’re all gone, which is great, but I can still kindaaaa feel them? Is that a medical thing? Or am I freaking out? Because, heh, it’s starting to feel like I might be freaking out, and not to toot my own horn but some might consider me an expert when it comes to the signs of freaking out—”

“Just breathe, Lu,” Mario interjected, gently but firmly, the way he always did when Luigi got lost in a thought process that wasn’t going to lead him anywhere good in a hurry. “We can wait as long as ya need. No rush at all.”

Mario pressed back the brim of Luigi’s cap so he could brush his hairline soothingly, wipe away the sweat. He leaned down, gathering Luigi close enough to bump their foreheads together so they could breathe in slow, deep unison. He’d done that little motion to Luigi their whole lives, an unspoken shorthand that only they understood. When his little brother was scared or anxious, touching foreheads was a way to make the world smaller, less overwhelming, if only for a few seconds. It was an easy way to say: who cares about any of that? Focus on me instead. It’s just the two of us. I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you.

(And he’d tried, hadn’t he? He tried, and he hadn’t been good enough this time, when it mattered most. Luigi had suffered because he couldn’t hold on tightly enough. Because he hadn’t fought harder, been smarter, pushed to move faster throughout every part of the trip. And at the end when he’d finally found his brother? It had just been dumb luck, really. He’d squinted up at all the cages at the right time through the haze of the lava heat, breathless from the climb and still half-focused on trying to stay in the air without plummeting, and he’d seen his brother fall, and his body had just reacted without any thought, desperation and adrenaline screaming in his veins, the only word in his head echoing out as faster, faster, FASTER. And if one little thing had gone differently — if he hadn’t found that specific powerup, if he hadn’t figured out how to use it properly, if he'd been looking anywhere else, if he’d misjudged the speed or simply missed his grab entirely — then that would have been it, and it would have been all his fault. The sight felt seared into Mario’s head, something he could see whether his eyes were open or closed. He saw Luigi tumbling in the air, terrified and yelling and out of control, hurtling towards the lava at full speed. Only this time, he couldn’t reach him, he couldn’t move at all, he could only watch helplessly and in horror as he—)

“Mario?” Luigi asked quietly. “Are you okay?”

Mario jolted back into the moment. He was breathing too hard, too fast; a tremor ran through him, bone-deep. Luigi was holding one of his arms, his eyes big and shining with newfound worry.

Mario smiled reassuringly for him, as easy and unthinking as a reflex. He took Luigi’s hand and wedged his fingers through his with a tight squeeze, resolving not to let go again until they were safely at home. That awful drowning feeling was rippling all through him, but he could keep his head above it if he focused hard enough, if he refused to let it sneak up on him again. He could do that. He would do that, no matter what it took.

With a slew of careful, slow-going movements, the two brothers finally stood up together on the stairs.

“Don’t worry about me,” Mario said, and turned to lead the way. “C’mon. Let’s get out of here."

#mario movie #mario movie spoilers #super mario bros #mario and luigi #mareach #super mario bros movie #cherrysip fic #super mario bros movie spoilers #a succinct summary of this part: things are going great! and then things are going not so great :(#this feels very derivative of other people's fics but hey that's what happens when you take over a month to delve into your own #post-movie scenario - everyone's done most of the common things before lololol. I GOTTA JUST BE OKAY WITH THAT #anyway much MUCH more to come as soon as i can make it happen! thank you for reading - i appreciate you all!#(also i always hate having to say it but please do not tag this as ship!!! just don't!!!)

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e-leohiss · 8 months

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"Here lies..." || A John Price fan-fiction

Author’s note: This is drama and my first fan-fic of Peepaw. As of now I'm not sure if I'm worth taking requests. Personally, John Price is the most comfortable character to write but I do want to write the others too.

Others being Konig, Simon, Johnny, and Kyle.

**PLEASE DO NOT translate, repost, or in any way reformat my work on this site and on any other social media

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Title: Here lies...

Main characters: John Price x F!reader Contains: Drama, heartbreak, broken marriage Wordcount: 2.2k Song link: My Mind (slowed & reverb) - Yebba

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Exposition:

John returned home with a new woman that his wife hardly knew about.

But she’s heard of her husband’s affair with another.

Her husband is a busy soldier, constantly absent due to his line of duty. He would only be home for 2 weeks at most–once almost nearing a month. To think the day had come that he would bring his new lover to their home. Did John even consider this as his home?

His poor wife doesn’t think that he does. Not when he had just returned only to be leaving with duffel bags in hand filled with the rest of his portable belongings that he packed minutes ago.

As she gazed at both her husband and his muse, innards boiled whereas her exterior was passive.

She blamed herself the most, the ruin of their marriage.

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Who knows how a woman would react if she saw the personification of her heartbreak before her person.

‘How do you kill your lover without killing yourself?’ A woman thought to herself. She stood still, and so did her heart. What could possibly be going through her head to become so still?

It didn’t appear to be the “calm before the storm” kind. No. She was the unsettling aftermath of the disaster.

Jonathan Price stood in front of her–stood between two women. John wasn’t looking at her. Instead he firmly stared at the floor. He chose to be a coward than to look her in the eyes as he spoke blunt blades of poison.

She broke her stillness to cut him off, “Jonathan.” He paused, but still refused to look her way. The new woman behind him shifted her eyes between the couple, discomfiture transparent on her face.

The heartbroken woman continued to focus on the visitor’s face; a tinge of satisfaction sparked in her when she noticed the new woman’s shoulders caving in from unease. ‘At least this one is looking at me,’ she thought.

Her low, toneless voice spoke again, “End this.” Jonathan’s head dipped down and heaved a generous amount of air through his nose. It took him a few seconds, but she saw the white sheets of paper in his grasp. Her limbs moved on their own accord. She lightly took the sheets from his hands and walked to the study to get a pen. Jonathan followed her a couple paces behind, his steps heavy and slow. As if it were the ticking seconds of a clock counting the duration of the dying home.

She placed the documents neatly on the desk as she sat feeling her muscles lose their strength by the second. Hell, the words seemed alien-like. She couldn’t read the damn content of the sheets. Her eyes skipped to regard the blank lines that remained unsigned. From within, more fragments fell off that made her chest more hollow.

She felt herself perish further.

Why would she sign it first?

She didn’t want this marriage to end. She did her best to nourish it. Thoughts of her husband always filled her mind. She would never seek feelings from another, not when she had Jonathan as hers.

But Jonathan did not think of her the same way. He did not think of his wife’s awaiting arms back home. He didn’t think of the constant worry his wife would always endure while he was away.

He did not remember his loving wife.

There were no lies in their marriage and it was only now that she came to terms with those odious facts. Jonathan didn’t love her, not anymore.

And so it is.

Jonathan entered the study wrapped in solemnity. His face, however, stoic. Well, he was drenched to the bone with a captain’s ego, one of the traits she respected about him, and she still did up to this moment.

She placed a pen on top of the sheets. Jonathan understood immediately–a signal for him to make the first move. With three long strides he stood by the desk, pen in between his strong fingers. Her body stilled again when Jonathan’s hand raised but stopped midair. He readjusted the pen in his hold, his mind ran which caused him to falter.

“Dear–” he began, but his words got caught when he finally looked her way. He took in the sight of a broken woman. He couldn’t recognize his wife anymore. It’s like the color from her body faded into shades of gloomy greys. She would’ve looked serene in the yellow glow of the desk lamp weren’t it for the apparent wreck in her eyes and posture. Then her eyes laid on his. There it flickered: resentment. The tired look on her face crumpled as the corner of her lip raised.

“You should damn well treat her far better than you did me. Do you understand me, Jonathan?” Her silvery voice is tight. There it was, spoken anger. “She doesn’t deserve to feel this way–failure as a wife.”

She placed her wedding ring on the desk with such care that it looked graceful to the speechless Jonathan, who had yet to sign the papers first. “In another life, I could have probably given you the family you deserved,” her voice cracked and her chest swelled with gradual pain at the sensitive topic.

“How I wish I could provide that for you right now, John. But, nothing. I’m sorry.”

She wanted to yell at the woman standing in the threshold of their home that she would not take him away from her. She refused to let another muse earn Jonathan’s attention; her role as his wife, as his equal. ‘You won’t take him away from me,’ she wanted to swear. ‘May these promises be written on stone, how much I want to remain by his side, by my John.’

Her mind went off alarmingly, ‘Damn her. I won’t leave him. Not John.’

Yet no such arguments came out from her.

How could she, when she blamed herself the most for her shortcoming as a wife.

A defect, unable to make John a father.

“I’m sorry we ended up like this. I’m sorry for hurting you so much when I vowed to put your happiness first.” Jonathan spoke thickly. He gulped, then surprisingly took a knee by the seat she sat on. “Our marriage may not have worked the way we promised it would, but I will take our memories together till the end of the line. I’ll always be grateful for your constant patience and effort. In another lifetime, we…” Jonathan’s words hung in the silence of the night as the endless possibilities ran in his head. Anything could have happened.

“If it makes you feel any better…curse, yell, scream, hurt me,” he said instead. “You can do whatever to lessen the pain–”

Her hand cupped his bearded jaw softly. With words full of conviction she said, “I won’t do that to you. Never you, John.” She smiled. She had the audacity to show him a smile.

The stoic mask of Jonathan Price fell apart the longer he looked at his wife. The longer he observed her the more he was convinced that a saint sat before him.

His left hand found itself atop hers to place it against his cheek. His rough digits massaging her smooth ones. “I don’t…” John whispered, his voice wavered with no trace of the soldier they knew him to be. He groaned, expressing his displeasure.

However, with a new-found purpose he stood and signed the papers quickly. He held up the pen for her to take, his face facing the other direction. Again with avoiding. She took the pen delicately. It took her a moment to follow-through but, at last, her signature appeared on the opposite side of John’s.

Her stare locked on the sheets that John collected hastily, his feet rooted to his spot. ‘Move. Move. Move.’ He chanted in his mind.

“John,” the meek voice of his ex-wife called to him. He peered down at her seated form. Maybe it was the glass paperweight on the desk, or the picture frame, but something shattered.

John bent down to capture her in his arms. Her body racked with pure heartbreak. Tears of blood could’ve been mistaken for the thick tears that cascaded down her cheeks. She cried so bitterly the back of his eyes boiled as he cradled her head on his collar.

Words tumbled out her mouth, “I hate you. You lied. Don’t leave me, John. John, please,” she begged, fisting his shirt. He pulled her tighter against him.

“I’ll always protect you, love. I’ll always put your safety first. Remember that. This, I swear. Don’t forget that.” He said to her with intensity as she kept calling him a liar.

“I have to go. Always take care of yourself. Put yourself first. I’m so sorry, dear.” And with one last kiss to her wet cheeks he unclasped her hands on his shirt and left the house, signed sheets crumpled in his fist.

He left her again, only this time it was painful. It was the last.

The woman waiting outside the door recoiled as the door slammed shut. John stood with his back to her and his head low with the doorknob forcefully in his grip. He didn’t wait for her as he began to walk towards the car. The woman felt the atmosphere shift when he walked past her. It was burning, and menacing.

He hurriedly threw his bags to the backseat before stepping into the passenger seat. The woman moved swiftly, getting on the driver’s seat and revving the engine to life. She’s taken by surprise when he suddenly pounded the side of his fist onto the door. John’s breathing was deeply filled with aggravation as he tried to forcefully control his temper.

“John?” She addressed the soldier without looking in his direction. “Step on it.” He seethed roughly as he glared out the window. With no further questions, she does as she’s told and stepped on the gas.

John Price was known for being stoic most times, flashing a close-lipped smile occasionally, but how that changed when a silent tear trailed down his cheek. He had just left the love of his life back home drowning in despair. She wasn’t his wife any more and that made the damage in him a thousand times worse.

================================================

An umbrella in hand, the sky wept sorrowfully as you.

Your mind flitted back to when Laswell appeared once again at the threshold of your home.

“I’m sorry we hid the truth from you.”

Who would’ve thought that the woman from before would be standing outside your home–your new home of almost a year–saying the most shattering news to you. You swallowed thickly. Mind still not fully comprehending the amount of information that Laswell had told you.

“It was never supposed to be this way. However, a previous enemy had threatened to hunt you down in exchange for John executing his wife,” Kate took in a breath. “For the life of me, I don’t know how he knew that John had a wife. Turns out we had a mole who found John’s file and broke into his office.” Kate pulled out a picture from the folder she brought, a picture of a foreigner and a soldier wearing the familiar U.S uniform. The words began to construct in your head and they got heavier the more you listened.

“He managed to threaten John a couple of times but we weren’t convinced, calling it a bluff. Roughly a year before John and you…he was threatened once again, but this time we couldn’t risk it. Which led him to decide that cutting ties with you would be the best diversion.” Kate’s voice became softer as she continued.

“We also had to convince you, so you wouldn't set foot at base. Rumors were spread about John having a different woman back at base so the mole wouldn’t discover your real location–”

“Where’s John?”

Kate’s eyes snapped to yours when you spoke up. She noticed the atmosphere around you had changed. “When will he be coming here? No – when can I see him? I’m sure the mission’s done because you’re here.” You held your hands together, begging Kate to see how much you want to see John again.

“I want to see my husband again. Please, Kate.”

You continuously begged, and with that Kate’s shoulders appeared to sag from the pressure. She did not know how to tell you the terrible news.

“You are a liar,” you said to John. “A horrible one.”

Chin quivered with another sharp intake of air. Nose is clogged, cheeks tear-stained, skin cold, eyes swollen and red rimmed. You kneel on the wet ground, sitting on the heels of your feet. You rearranged the flowers by your knees.

“You don’t like flowers, dear. Nothing to worry about this time though.” A choked laugh slipped through but vanished as another set of sharp breaths racked your lungs. John’s dog tags clinked against each other from the motion.

“How I miss you, my love, it hurts.” Your fingers dig into the soft soil, reflecting your vulnerable state. “Wait for me. This time I won’t let you leave me so easily.”

The handwritten letter that came with all of his belongings burned in the back of your mind. The last paragraph you could recite word-for-word.

‘This is the only way, love. How I wish it wasn’t. But for you, I’d do anything. Even if it means leaving you in exchange for your protection.’

‘HERE RESTS IN HONORED GLORY

CPT. JONATHAN PRICE

BRITISH SAS

1985

PRESENT YEAR’

And soon, a new gravestone settled right beside it, with your name, year of birth and death. The promise written in stone.

‘WIFE OF CPT. JONATHAN PRICE’

~~end~~

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sickonthedancefloor · 5 days

Note

can you please do a Taehyung sicktember fic on-

8. Persistent fever.

Caretaker of your choice.

Thank you <3

Finally! Sorry it took so long, but I finally got something out here~

Sickie: Taehyung Caretaker: Jimin, Jin Content: fever, sinus issues, nausea, vomiting (mentioned)

‘Home early’, Taehyung types in the chat with Jimin, answering the two billion question marks he had sent while he was on the flight. Taehyung was set to do some photography in Tokyo for the next few days, but his managers and one on-site nurse told him they’d postpone and reschedule in two weeks, when the photographer had another open period. Taehyung didn’t think he was doing that poorly, certain the fever was mostly from the hangover and the stage lights, but his manager didn’t believe him for a second. So they packed up, wished him well, threw him in a mask and took the chartered jet back to Seoul.

Taehyung was under strict orders to ‘rest and recuperate’, and with a scoff he just maneuvers himself and his suitcase into his apartment and wishes his manager-hyung good night.

“I mean it,” his manager said, “I’m only leaving you alone because you said you can take care of yourself. So you better. I’m checking on you daily.”

“Hyung, it’s not that bad,” Taehyung dismissed that day, accepting the small hug and rough back pat before his manager moved back. He didn’t even bother checking his messages, didn’t even worry about his suitcase and let it drop in the living room. Shoes off, door locked, security on, Taehyung just ended up flopped in his bed and conking out for the night. He doesn’t catch his manager laying medication out on his dining room table, or the water bottle set at his bedside table next to his phone, before he let himself out and trusted Taehyung to sleep on his own.

~*~

Something felt… off. When Taehyung awoke again, he felt all sorts of wrong. His sinuses felt heavy and swollen, and he just felt overly warm and sweaty. His limbs felt heavy, but he really needed to be awake for a few minutes. He managed to get up for a little, when an odd emptiness bothered him into finally making his way into the kitchen to get something to eat. He didn’t have many fresh groceries, concerned most of it would spoil while he was out, but he did have juice. He grabbed a bottle of orange juice and then raided the pantry for his dry salvageables.

Ramen, perfect. Low-energy, little effort, still delicious. He heated up a small cup, oddly not wanting more. His stomach didn’t feel very solid… but this exhaustion just clung to him like a second skin. This wasn’t normal jetlag; jetlag didn’t normally come with sore limbs and a growing headache. But no food usually came with a headache, he remembered that much.

As his ramen cooked, he took two paracetamol from a pack laid out and sat at his table, checking his phone to send a thanks to his manager. A wonderful 6%, which had him going to find his charger while he waited for the painkillers to kick in. And he smiled. His darling Jiminie had sent him a message, full of emojis and silly aegyo-inspired phrases to greet him. He wanted to know when he was free, they could hang out or call while they didn’t have an agenda.

‘Anytime you want,’ Taehyung answered. ‘I’m free whenever.’

‘You’ve been back for 12 hours, why are you ignoring meeee?’

‘sleepg :(‘ came Taehyung’s lazy reply.

His ramen was done. Taehyung brought the cup to the table with a pair of chopsticks and began to lazily munch away. Just as he shoved a mouthful in, his phone began to buzz—with Jimin’s name flashing over the screen. Taehyung didn’t think twice before opening it, mumbling a weak “Jyiminie!” over his noodles.

Jimin frowned at his friend’s appearance on the camera. “Tae-yah… you don’t look so hot. Did you get sick?”

Taehyung shook his head, but the feeling had him grimacing a little. “Nah… just a headache,” he grumbled. “I think I’m still sleeping off the plane.”

That had Jimin’s frown growing. “But you were only in Japan… Taehyung, what happened?”

Taehyung shrugged. He knew Jimin was off traveling with his family in Europe, he didn’t want to worry him, especially given he was so far away. “They rescheduled everything for a few weeks, when the photographer’s open again. It’s no biggie.”

“Yes it is… Did they send you home sick?”

Taehyung’s deep sigh answered it all. “I’m fine, Jimin-ah. I have meds, I’ll sleep it off. It’s just a cold.”

That had Jimin sighing. He took a moment to doublecheck, asking what medication Taehyung had in his cabinet, offering to order him something if necessary. Taehyung waved him off, assuring Jimin of the cold medication he still had and a half-empty bottle of cough syrup. He showed Jimin the boxes as they chatted, for his friend’s approval. Jimin didn’t keep him on the phone long, telling him to sit still and eat his noodles. Taehyung put on light jazz and ate quietly, before he just trudged his way back to his room.

He was out by the time his head hit the pillow.

~*~

Taehyung woke to the sounds of something clanking around his kitchen. Worried about an intruder—a sasaeng, maybe?!—he sat up carefully, eyes darting around the room to look for any hidden cameras or ropes or odd people. Intruders to celebrities could be dangerous, and despite his apartment complex having top notch security, there had been a few incidences here and there. He felt wide awake, immediately although a thick feeling creeping up his throat made him want to cough. Taehyung slapped both hands over his mouth to stifle his sounds, then sipped at the water.

Then worriedly stared at the water: what if it’s poisoned?!

But… it tasted like water. It was warm, boring… maybe not poisoned. Taehyung glanced at his phone, to realize it’s been plugged into the bedside charger. Weird… When he tapped the screen, he noticed a few messages, all from Jimin.

Oh gods, Jimin could help.

Taehyung didn’t hesitate to open the contact information, ignoring the texts in favor of dialing him immediately.

There was a ding from the living room, followed by a light ringtone that Taehyung recognized instantly. And Jimin’s soft, light voice asking aloud, “Who could be calling right now?”

Taehyung didn’t move the phone until he heard the ringtone stop. Then Jimin’s voice on the other line, lighthearted but very confused: “Tae-yah? Why are you calling?”

“Jiminie… Are… are you in my house?”

That had the smaller boy huffing out a laugh, followed by footsteps shuffling to his room. When the door opened more than just a crack, he could see his best friend standing inside, his dyed-blonde hair peeking from underneath a beanie. Immediate comfort flooded Taehyung’s senses, and as he dropped his arm with the phone, he just huffed in a mixture of relief and exhaustion.

“You moron, you scared me!”

Well… that was valid. Now that Taehyung mentioned it, Jimin realized he didn’t really leave many clues. Just the message, as he pointed to Taehyung’s hand. “Well, I texted you I was coming over. I’m sorry.”

Groaning, Taehyung laid back on the bed. He felt drained again already, ready to sleep that fear out of his bones. Jimin just walked in, smoothing down his hair. “Sorry, friend. You didn’t seem like you were doing so well, so I came to check on you. I’m making soup.”

Oh.

Well, that was nice.

Taehyung smiled, a wide, dopey look as he leaned back on one arm. “You’re literally the best friend I could ever ask for.”

“Good!” Jimin danced back to the kitchen with a little wiggle, which had Taehyung laughing as he watched him head back. Feeling far more relieved, he flopped back against his pillow and opened his messages, clicking through them lazily. A response to manager-hyung—he’s fine, and a bonus Jimin!—and some emojis to Jimin himself, and one back to the group chat to send kissy faces and tell everyone he’s fine. He was just tired. He lets out a loud, obnoxious sneeze, before he just sniffles and turns onto his side.

He didn’t mean to doze off, but he woke up when Jimin calls his name, sitting on the edge of the bed. Jimin’s tiny hand reached up to smooth back his hair. “Tae-yah?”

“Hmm?” Taehyung’s eyelids felt so heavy. His limbs felt weighed down, but so warm.

“Taetae… your fever feels like it’s gotten worse. Have you taken any medication? Today?”

Taehyung just shrugged. “Dunno… when did you first text me?” Honestly, Taehyung wasn’t even sure when he got back. How many hours had it been since hyung took him home? He figured it’s been more than enough time, and shrugged, sitting up. Jetlag is a bitch. “It’s okay, Jyiminie. You cooked, right?”

Jimin nodded. “Food, then medicine, then you can rest some more.” But his words had an edge of finality to it. Taehyung knew this voice well: it meant Jimin was going to get his way because he said so. But the idea of food is enough to get Taehyung out of bed. He flopped himself over Jimin’s shoulder, laughing when Jimin complained about him stepping on his heels, and the two trekked into the dining area. Honestly, Taehyung just had a dining table because he had drinking guests; usually, they ended up in front of the television to eat and chat, but the table was a good place for shots and bigger course meals. All two times a year he hosted anything.

The soup Jimin made was absolutely delicious. There was minimal kick in the spice, gentle for Taehyung’s sensitivity to spicy foods, but flavorful enough it makes him smile. He drinks more broth than noodle, picks around a few of the vegetables, and nearly yawns into his spoon. He’s just… drained.

“I hope this helps bring down your fever,” Jimin says softly, reaching over to stroke his curly hair. It’s a mess, hardened with old hairspray and oils he hasn’t washed yet. “Have you had any other symptoms? Are you coughing?”

Taehyung just shakes his head. “Not really… most of it’s just drainage. I had to blow my nose a lot yesterday.”

Or, what he thought was yesterday. This fever just makes him feel foggy, warm and heavy-limbed and exhausted. A tickle in his throat has him leaning his head into his hands, letting out a few wet-sounding coughs. He wipes leftover spittle onto his napkin.

“Okay. Medication then sleep.” That sounded great. Jimin gets some nyquil into him, and some tea, makes him wash his face, and tucks him into bed with the promise that he’ll be there when he wakes up.

~*~

When Taehyung wakes up, his body is sore and he feels rotten. His limbs ache and he feels overheated, enough that he roughly kicks his blanket before he kicks too hard and finds a leg.

Jimin looks over. He’s typing away at his phone, playing some sort of game, but pauses when he catches Taehyung trying to free himself from his blanket. To help, he reaches a hand over and tugs the blanket down to his legs.

“Taetae-yah, what’s wrong?” he asks softly.

“I’m… hot.”

Jimin tries not to snicker. “Well. Yeah, you’re sick. Feeling overheated?”

Taehyung groans, turning onto his stomach. Jimin sets a hand on his back and begins to rub his spine, but the sensation makes him feel itchy and uncomfortable, and he wiggles. “N-no…”

“No?” Jimin’s hand stops. “Taehyung, talk to me. What are you feeling?”

Taehyung groans. Laying this way doesn’t help either. Just laying here feels uncomfortable, and he turns on his side, freeing his legs completely. His pajamas feel too rough, but the idea of standing to move, change, or remove anything seems to be the worst thing. When Jimin moves his hand to touch Taehyung’s neck, the younger one squirms a little.

“No, Jyimine, it hurts,” he whimpers into the blanket.

“What hurts? Did you injure yourself?” Jimin asks, but he’s kind enough to move his hand back, shifting closer to Taehyung’s face. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

Taehyung barely shakes his head into the pillow, groaning as he does so. Why did every terrible symptom have to hit him then? His headache is back, with a slow, steady throbbing. He feels nauseous from it. “No just… anything touching me… it hurts.”

“Oh…” Jimin knows this too well. When he feels too sick, his old injuries flare up and he feels nothing but pain in the worst areas for hours. But it’s been a while since Taehyung’s last dose, and he’s slept long enough that he could take some more. “Can you sit up? Let me get you some painkillers, we can see if that helps.” Not the strongest, not while he’s like this, but… Tylenol should help. Jimin slides from the bed to get the pills and water ready, leaving Taehyung to work the strength to sit up. When he finally manages to, he takes the pills from Jimin and lets his friend help him with the water. With the pills flushed down his system, Taehyung drops heavily back onto the bed, groaning when Jimin places a cold compress on the back of his neck.

But it… feels good.

“Thanks, Jyiminie.”

“Anytime, Taetae. Get some more sleep.”

~*~

By day three, Jimin had called in reinforcements. Reinforcements come in the form of Jin making a good soup, bringing in good OTC medication, and an extra person to cuddle on the couch. Taehyung felt absolutely rotten by this point, taking to dragging around his comforter around his shoulders any time he left his room. He ends up tucked into Jin’s side, letting Jin feed him whenever he got hungry for some snack or another.

Taehyung doesn’t remember much about day three.

~*~

On the fourth day, more so later that evening, Jimin tugs the thermometer from Taehyung’s mouth and frowns. Taehyung takes the chilsung cider offered and sips at it slowly, enjoying the cold feeling. The carbonation isn’t comfortable for his throat, but it settles his stomach. The nausea had worsened overnight, to the point where Taehyung was struggling to keep food down. Besides a bit of broth from that afternoon, he hasn’t had much luck.

The chills are worse, and he’s buried deep in his comforter and still asking for another blanket. His legs have been aching, on top of all of that.

“Your fever’s up, jagiya,” Jimin says softly.

“What’s new?” Taehyung responds, pouting around his straw.

Jimin strokes his hair gently, what little he can reach from Taehyung’s comforter, and the younger one leans into the touch. While the rest of him is sore, Jimin’s touch is light and familiar, and comforting. He’s worried, Taehyung can tell, but he’s too drained to do anything about it. He trusts his hyung and his soulmate, he’ll be okay.

If he listens vaguely, he can hear Jin on the phone. The eldest had stepped away to make a phone call, but Taehyung can tell it’s either to their team doctor or to the staff’s nurse team. “—up to 38.9 now,” Jin murmurs. Or rather, Jin could be speaking normally, but things sound muffled. Taehyung just leans into Jimin’s touch and closes his eyes. “It’s not spiking, just… steadily climbing. He said he’s achy, he had a headache earlier, and right now he’s been nauseous. Ne, ne. He vomited earlier, but I think he’s trying not to again. Mm.” Jin trudges back into the room. “Tae-yah?”

Taehyung groans. “Hyung?”

“Do you think we can get you to the car? The nurse says we should get you—”

That has the sick boy groaning, shaking his head. “I ‘on’t wanna,” he groaned. “I can just sleep it off. It’s only been a day.”

“Tae-yah, you’ve been home for four days. Your fever is persisting for too long, and you’re literally not getting better…”

Taehyung groans, shaking his head. He tugs the blanket over his face, pulling away from the solace of his friend’s gentle touch. When he feels a hand press on his shoulder, he flinches and tucks himself in further.

“Jin-hyung, don’t—” Jimin protests. His voice is muffled, but the hand goes away, and Taehyung’s shoulders droop, but he’s trembling. Taehyung whines into the blanket.

Gentle fingers reach for the blanket, easing it away from his face. “Tae-yah, you’ll overheat. Jin won’t touch your shoulder, okay?”

“Do I have to get up?” Taehyung asks softly. “Jiminie, I don’t want to leave…”

Jimin hesitates, looking up at Jin. Jin, frowning at them, turns into the phone. “Can the doctor come to us? Taehyungie’s not sure he can get up right now. He can? Oh that’s perfect. We’ll be here. I’ll give him some more ibuprofen while we wait.”

Perfect. Jimin releases the breath he didn’t realize he was holding, but he grabs the water bottle while Jin opens the ibuprofen and knocks four pills into his hand.

“Okay, Tae-yah. The doctor’s coming to you, but you have to take some medicine first.”

Awful. But a deal is a deal. Taehyung grumbles, propping himself up on one arm, his opposite hand reaching out for the tablets. He lets Jimin help him with the water and washes down the medication quickly. It’ll be irritating, on an empty stomach, but the doctor knows best. If the nausea settles, if his fever goes down, he’ll get to eat again. As Jin looks at him with worry and gently scratches his hair, Jimin glances up and hopes to see his friend’s health make a turnaround soon. Both help him lay back on the couch before Jin joins Jimin to sit on the floor. As Taehyung begins to doze again, the two older ones take a breath and let it out slowly. Their doctor is coming. Taehyung will be okay.

#whit writes #bts sickfic #sick!taehyung #caretaker!jimin #caretaker!jin #cold and flu season #fever

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ronwestbreeze · 1 year

Text

TO YOU , WORLDS AWAY : PART TWO : CHAPTER FIFTEEN

pairing: jake sully x fem!reader

summary: in which tinkers tolerates norm...

word count: 3.6k

author's note: none! just hope you enjoy!

AO3 | prev | next

“They’re having a ceremony tonight.” Dr. Chloe told you while she was double checking one of the machines next to your hammock. “For an elder that unfortunately passed. I hear it’s really pretty. Perhaps you should see it, you know, get out of the hut for once.”

You had managed to sit up this time, though it took a lot of great difficulty. It seemed like as the days passed your body just became heavier and heavier to hold up yourself. You really weren’t even sure if you could even walk yet.

“Kind of hard to do that when I can barely sit upright.” You retorted. Unfortunately, you had found yourself disliking the doctor, mostly because she was completely oblivious to the fact that these machines she and her team had made weren’t necessarily doing much of anything but being a hindrance. Frankly, you weren’t even sure why she made it a point to check on you every single day and fill your head up with more false promises and progress.

Dr. Chloe waved a dismissive hand, “You don’t have to do much moving to see it. Technically, you can sit outside of your hut and watch from above. It’s similar to a march, you know? They walk throughout the clan’s grounds until they reach the burial site. So, you may just catch a glance at the ceremony as it passes by.”

“You sound like you’ve seen this.” You mumble offhandedly as Dr. Chloe finally stopped tampering with the machines.

“Why yes, I actually have! A few months back I was lucky to witness one. It was a beautiful ceremony, I think you might like it.”

There was really no point in responding to her as she was basically having a conversation with herself at one point. All you had to do was respond plainly until she finally made her leave.

That was when you glanced out your window for the first time that morning to see just a few miles away, a Samson landing. If you had to guess, it was probably Spider and his mother. During the past week you had been awake, Mary would always visit the Olangi Clan every other day and bring Spider along with her. It was the highlight of your day really, whenever the boy came to visit.

It was a nice distraction and good company. Better than Dr. Chloe’s that’s for sure. The one useful thing she had done was bring you a long thick wooden stick that would have been similar to a cane. She mentioned it would help with support and keeping you upright. You never admitted it out loud in front of her but yes, the wooden cane did help lots. In fact you haven’t allowed it out of your sight ever since you had gotten it.

You looked around and realized that you were indeed alone. While gripping the stick tightly in both your hands, you pushed yourself up from the hammock, leaning your entire body weight on the stick. Your legs trembled but you were able to remain standing for a few minutes until a sharp pain shot up your right leg and caused you to crumble down to the floor of the hut. Thankfully, it wasn’t that rough of a tumble with the stick catching you from most of your fall.

But you remained on the floor and gently sat the stick down next to you. Well, on the brighter side, at least you weren’t in your hammock anymore.

“Hi, Doc!” You looked up to find Spider standing in the doorway of your hut with a smile on his face. “Oh hey, look! You’re out of your hammock!”

Spider sank to the floor and crawled to sit next to you as you chuckled tiredly, “Yep. Makin’ progress each day, I guess.”

“Well, that’s good. That means you’re getting better.” Spider smiled encouragingly, patting your arm. All you could do was smile. Thankfully, Spider didn’t pick apart your expressions but instead his smile widened, “Oh! I brought a friend this time, Doc. Can he come in?”

At first you thought he was referring to another Na’vi kid that he had happened to befriend so you shrugged and nodded. Spider suddenly got up and rushed out the doorway, disappearing from your sight for a few seconds but you could still hear his voice as he said, “Okay! You can come in now!”

Spider came back seconds later and sat down in the spot he had been sitting in, bouncing excitedly.

The last person you expected to walk through that doorway was Norm Spellman.

“Norm?” You gapped up at him.

Norm looked stunned as well as he chuckled sheepishly, “Hey, Doc…long time no see.”

There really wasn’t any right way to react or say anything. Especially when it came to meeting someone you hadn’t seen…well…since after Grace’s death. It brought you back to too many memories all at once, overwhelming your senses to the point where you were just simply left speechless.

“So you guys know each other?” Spider asked, completely oblivious to the tension.

Norm cleared his throat awkwardly, “Um, Spider, why don’t you wait outside for a bit while Doc and I catch up?”

Spider frowned at him and then looked at you expectantly, almost as if he were waiting for you to give him the okay to leave you alone.

That had snapped you out of your stunned gaze long enough to give him a nod and a gentle pat on his head to reassure him further, “I’ll be fine, Parrot. I’ll let you know when you can come back, okay?”

“Okay.” Spider nodded and finally got up.

Norm watched the boy leave. The two of you were quiet for a few moments until he finally said, “Wow, you really are good with kids, huh? That kid barely listens to anyone.”

You shrugged, “Kids need someone to listen to them. It’s not too hard to do, I guess.” You couldn’t ignore the elephant in the room for much longer. Not with small talk. And you usually hate small talk with Norm. “I assume Spider told you about me—”

“Yeah, Y/N, he did.” Norm frowned. He stared at you as if it was the first time he had actually seen you. There was a look you hated that crossed his face, a look you did not particularly care for at the moment. Norm settled down on the floor but kept the space between you two as he continued in a quieter voice, “What, were you planning on staying here? In secret without anyone knowing?”

“I’m dying, Norm. What do you think?”

Norm winced, “But…Doc, we could’ve been there for you as soon as you woke up. Jake—”

“You didn’t tell Jake did you?” Was your quick response, your heart pounding against your chest in anxiety. “Norm, I can’t have him here, I can’t have him see me—”

“No, I didn’t tell him.” He stared at you in shock. “I wanted to be sure myself. That I was about to see the Doc was actually the Doc we thought had died five years ago.” You dropped your gaze down to your bandaged knees, not wanting him to see your eyes become achy and then eventually glassy. “But now that I’m sure, now that I know you’re here…why can’t Jake know?”

You shook your head, scowling at him weakly, “I’m dying! What part of that do you not understand, Norm?”

“We can transfer your consciousness to your avatar, we’ve done it before with Jake—”

“I’m too weak—”

“No, you’re not, Y/N—”

“Grace was weak, Norm. She was dying and she never was able to cross over to her avatar!” Tears fell down your cheeks in despair. Your chest became tight and heavy at the same time. “I can’t give him hope like that…I can’t…I can’t break his heart again…”

It was quiet once more in the hut. You could tell Norm was frustrated and this was one of the very reasons why you didn’t want him or anyone else you knew to see you. Not when you were slowly trying to accept the inevitable.

“We don’t have to tell anyone.” Norm started again, this time his voice was smaller. “I can have your avatar flown here. He doesn’t even have to know. And we can perform it here—”

“Norm—”

“They have a spirit tree or a tree of souls here too, don’t they? We could do it here and if it works we—”

You reached over and placed your hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze, “Norm, it’s okay. I’ll be fine.” Honestly, you were shocked you were able to say this despite the tears in your eyes, despite more of it falling down your face.

Norm shook his head but he didn’t respond right away. “I just…I just don’t know if I can go back and face him…knowing that I saw you.” You nodded understandingly but didn’t say anything else. And neither did he.

The two of you just sat in silence. You both were able to do that back when it was you, Norm, Grace, and Jake. Whenever Grace was busy or whenever Jake was in the link bed, you’d come out of your lab and just sit with Norm. You were either reading and he was eating something. And he never asked questions that much. It was nice. Those small moments.

Norm picked up your stick and examined it. You finally spoke, “How is he? Jake? You said…you said he was able to transfer his consciousness into his avatar.”

He chuckled, “Yeah, yeah he did. He’s also a family guy now, he and Neytiri have three kids now. It’s…it’s nice, you know, to see him happy.” Norm then looked up at you with a friendly smile, “But I think we both know it’s not the same without you, Doc.”

You chose not to respond to that, not to think about that. Because if you did, then there was no way you would ever stop crying. And you’ve already been doing a lot of that recently.

There was another pause of silence between you two. Norm handed you your stick and you took it, sending him a small smile, “I know we weren’t really close before, frankly, I don’t think I liked you in the beginning.” Norm snorted and you smiled. “But now I can say I find you mildly tolerable.”

“You find me tolerable now that you’re dying?” Norm scoffed, amusement twinkling in his eyes, “Should I be offended?”

“Don’t think about it too much.”

Norm nodded with a chuckle before standing up, “I’ll call Spider back in.”

“Hey, you can stay, you know.” You smiled not really wanting to be alone as of now. And as much as you’ve grown to love having Spider around, you would love to have another adult around—besides Dr. Chloe. “It’d kind suck that you’d come all this way just to go back in a few minutes.”

Spider came back in as Norm sighed, “I don’t know. I do have a lot of work to do at home.”

“No, stay!” Spider pleaded, tugging on the man’s arm. “You could help me with my Na’vi with Doc!”

Norm snorted, “I don’t know if I’m the best teacher to be honest.”

“What, after five years? Come on, Spellman.” You teased as Spider took his spot next to you again. “Sit with us for a while.”

There was still hesitation on his face, there was still what lingered from your conversation, Norm didn’t want to let it go, you could tell. Instead of addressing it in front of Spider, you gave him a look that told him he had to drop it. Honestly, you had forgotten how stubborn this guy was.

Reluctantly, he sighed and settled back down to the floor. “Okay, Spider. Show us what you’ve learned so far.”

And that’s what you spent most of the day doing. Spider was so excited that he was getting better at the language which meant he was steps closer. It also seemed like both Norm and Spider had a close bond with each other, which was nice to see. God, you may have hated Quaritch with all of your guts but it was good to know his son had some type of community around him, people that loved him and took care of him.

Thinking about this, it did make you wish that things were different. That you didn’t crash in that ship, that you didn’t go into cryosleep for five years, that you were with Jake…

By the time the evening came, Norm made his leave but Spider stayed with you. Since you decided to end your lessons, you let him go off about his time with his adoptive family. He mentions having a friend named Kiri who was also adopted and they were best friends because of that. You found it adorable and was happy that he had some Na’vi friends.

When the sun began to set, a horn sounded. Spider perked up both out of the sudden sound startling him and in curiosity. “What’s that?”

You remembered the ceremony that Dr. Chloe had mentioned before, “Why don’t we check it out?”

Spider nodded excitedly and helped you to your feet. The both of you slowly made your way out of the hut. It was the first time you had actually stood outside of the hut you had been staying in, only to find out that it was high up in a tree.

“Huh, that’s why the air’s always been a little bit thin.” You muttered as Spider helped you sit down on the wooden balcony with railings surrounding the hut. “Come on, let’s scoot toward the railing.”

You slowly scooted your body closer to the railing and carefully placed legs through the open spaces and you leaned your body against the bars. Spider copied you, swinging his legs back and forth.

Below you, you saw most of the Olangi Clan gather around further away from your tree. Most of them rode direhorses while the others walked next to them.

Both you and Spider watched as they moved slowly, practically gliding through the pathway of the trees. It looked as if the plants moved for them as they went or moved for the dead. Then in the middle of the long line of Na’vi, there was a large leaf that carried a single body which was also covered in leaves, and in that leaf along with the body were woodsprites.

“Look!” Spider pointed at the ones flying down and you stared at them in wonder.

You gently poked his shoulder, “What do you call them, Parrot?”

“Um, woodsprites?”

“Mhmm, but also…?”

Spider thought for a moment as one of them floated past his face. “Ooh! Atokirina'.”

He looked very proud of himself. And you laughed softly, “Very good.”

As you watched them walk, you got tired of staying upright for so long. Your body soon began to slump against the railing no matter how much you tried to stay still. “Hey, Spider, can you lean me up against the hut, please?”

Spider nodded and got up, “Are you okay?”

You nod after he helped you position yourself up against the wood of the hut, “Yeah, just a little tired.”

“Do you want me to get a healer?” Spider asked, kneeling down in front of you with a worried pout. “I can get my mom if you’d like! I know you don’t like Miss Parker.”

You furrow your brows, a smile tugging at your lips, “How do you know I don’t like Dr. Chloe?”

Spider shrugged, “You always looked annoyed whenever she came to see you. Oh, one time I even heard you say fu—”

“Okay, okay,” You stopped him. The last thing you wanted was to be responsible for turning this kid vulgar before he even reached his teens. “Yeah, go on and get your mother. Be careful while you do so, okay? We’re pretty high up.”

“They don’t call me Spider for nothing!” He grinned before running off. You watched what little you could see of him climb down the branches until he disappeared below and you couldn’t see him anymore.

For a moment, you took in the atmosphere. The peace. The night. The mourning of the dead. It took everything in you not to break down into tears yet again. God, you were such a crybaby these days. You tried not to think about you being in that leaf instead, you tried not to think about Spider’s reaction if you were to die, you tried not to think about Jake, about whether Grace would be disappointed in you or not, you tried not to think so hard. You really did.

You hadn’t realized your eyes were closed until you opened them with a tear slipping out. Of course. So much for trying not to cry.

But your tears weren’t what you focused long on. Instead it was the woodsprite that suddenly floated down in front of you and landed on your right knee. You hadn’t seen one so up close before. From what you read about them, they are said to be very pure and scared spirits and that they don’t show up this often. So seeing one, and another float down toward you, made you begin to wonder…

Having them all around, you realized after a few seconds that a few more had landed on your body, was a bit of a bother. Especially, when it practically lit up your body for all to see. It was like it purposefully wanted you to be found or noticed by the Na’vi below.

Good thing no one was paying attention.

“Tsmuke?”

At first you thought you had imagined it. That you were just tired and should’ve been going to bed soon. But when you spotted movement in the corner of your eye, when you turned your head completely to find Neytiri squatting down on the railing, looking at you with just as much shock as you looked at her.

This had to be a dream. You had fallen asleep and you were dreaming. There was no way Neytiri was here, right now, in front of you.

You blinked when she dropped down onto the path where you sat and you muttered out, “Are you real?”

A grin broke out on Neytiri’s face as she rushed toward you and knelt down in front of you, “I prayed to the All Mother for this day! I knew you weren’t dead, ma tsmuke!” She pulled you into a tight hug. You, being too stunned to do anything else, hugged her back the best you could. “Thank you, Eywa, thank you, thank you, thank you! You’ve found her!”

All the emotions you had held back before, that you had pushed back the entire day after your conversation with Norm, came pouring out in quiet sobs that shook your shoulders. And you realized after a while of hugging her, Neytiri was crying too.

It felt…

It almost felt like being reunited with a family member you had missed. That you had lost. You never expected to reunite with Neytiri or Norm, but after you did, after you’ve hugged her, it was more of a relief than finding out that your side of the war had won.

Winning the war wasn’t worth it if you ended up alone in the end.

And god. God, you will finally admit that you hated being alone.

When you both pulled away, you found yourself speaking through your tears, “How did you…How are you here?”

“Sa’nok, the Tsahik was asked here to perform the ceremony.” Neytiri explained, placing her bow down. “She brought me here so that I can learn and be ready to become the future Tsahik…” She finally took in your current state and her smile fell slightly, “You are…”

You gave a pained smile, “I don’t really know how long I have. They, the humans, think they can heal me before I die but I don’t think they can—”

“No.” Neytiri shook her head immediately. “No. You cannot die. Not after I had just found you!”

“Neytiri—”

“What about Jake?” She whispered, tears filling her eyes. “What about Kiri? I can’t let you die, not without them seeing you.”

You shook your head, coming down from your momentary high to feel terribly exhausted. Worse than minutes before. “Neytiri it’s fine…” She helped you lay down on the floor, gently guarding your head as she did so. Your lower lip trembled, “I already know what you’re going to say and it won’t work.” You shook your head as Neytiri moved to protest, “It won’t work. I’m too weak.”

“I will not give up!” Neytiri hissed at you. “You and I…we had very little time together. But one thing I will always know, that would always be true, is that you belong with this family. You belong with Jake, you belong with little Kiri. You belong with all of us. You always have….” She sniffled, placing a hand on your forehead. “Sylwanin saw it before I did….and I am sorry it has taken me this long to realize it.”

You wanted to tell her you didn’t deserve it but something in you just couldn’t even push out the words. It just remained stuck in your throat. Stuck in your chest. Preventing the air from entering your lungs.

That’s when you realized you couldn’t breathe. That you had been trying to gasp for air.

Neytiri realized seconds after, “Tsmuke?” You felt her larger hands feel around your mask as if it had come loose. Black dots started to cover your vision. “Ma tsmuke!”

The last thing you remembered was Neytiri screaming and hands lifting your body from off the ground.

And then the world had gone dark. And you couldn’t hear her screams anymore.

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#to you worlds away #jake sully #avatar jake sully x reader #avatar jake sully #avatar jake #jake sully angst #neytiri x reader #neytiri #avatar way of water #avatar 2 #atwow #sam worthington #avatar the way of water

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jokeroutsubs · 10 months

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Bojan and Kris' interview for Slovenian news site Siol.net (2. 9. 2022)

Joker Out does what only Big Foot Mama and Siddharta have done so far

Well, now we know where we will be on 6 October next year. In Stožice, at the Joker Out concert. The young musicians have never hidden their goals, they have predicted it, because the next logical move for the hottest band in Slovenia at the moment is to fill the biggest arena in Slovenia. "If there ever was a time for that, it's now. I'm more scared of the question of what's next," the band's guitarist Kris Guštin asked himself in an interview with Siol.net. But the guys have an answer for that too. After Stožice, they're aiming for the Balkans, and then, who knows where the new wave will take them.

We spoke to Bojan Cvjetićanin and Kris Guštin from Joker Out on the day of the release of their second studio album Demoni. We met in a bar behind Bežigrad, just a few metres away from where their homes are. Kris came by bike, Bojan by car, as he had another interview before our talk. Both visibly tired. It is an understatement to say that their schedules are packed. This summer they played 30 concerts, released a new album, shot a video for their first single Katrina, they have a big concert in Križanke coming, and an even bigger one in Stožice next year. Among the legendary Slovenian rock bands, only Big Foot Mama and Siddharta managed to sell out Stožice.

Shagadelic rock band Joker Out consists of Jure Maček, Jan Peteh and Martin Jurkovič, in addition to Kris Guštin and Bojan Cvjetičanin (pictured). Photo by Ana Kovač

First of all, congratulations, your second studio album Demons is out. How would you describe the new album in a few words?

Kris: Thank you. If we don't compare it to the first one, this album is our ultimate break up album. If we compare it to the first one, this one was made in a much shorter time, and I think that's actually a plus and not a minus of this album. It's much more genuine and polished, even though it was made in five months. This album represents our actual creative state at the moment, whereas the first album represented our creative state two years before the release, because it was made over such a long period of time.

Bojan: Creatively it's much freer than the first album. We dared to do more, and I'm glad we didn't fall into the trap of wanting to be commercially satisfying just for the sake of success. The album is much more mature both lyrically and in terms of arrangement. The first album was a patchwork from the beginning of our creative journey to when it came out. Whereas the new album is really a reflection of who we are now, in this moment. It's our present, it's our imprint.

Katrina is the name of the single you used to announce the release of your new album. Who or what is Katrina? Do we all have a Katrina?

Bojan: I believe that everyone has a Katrina at some point in their life. Who my Katrina is is irrelevant to this story. Katrina is someone or something that is gnawing away at us and destroying us in some way, but we keep coming back to it anyway.

Kris: I am my own Katrina.

You shot the music video in four hours, you decided to do it in black and white, and only the band members are in it. Who is the concept mastermind behind the music video?

Kris: Yes, we shot the music video in a couple of hours, even though it took all day to shoot due to other commitments. It's like this when you realise there's only a week to go before the song comes out, and you wonder what to do now (laughs). But even if we had had more time, I don't know if we would have done anything differently. The masterminds are Joker Out and Mark Pirc.

Bojan: The vision for the video was that it had to be very raw and radiate energy. This song is probably the most edgy, and I think it's the most reminiscent of Omamljeno telo (*Intoxicated Body) from the first album. The video for Omamljeno telo is also just a stylish black and white story. The first single from the second album is somehow Omamljeno telo five years later.

With the song Katrina, for which they also recorded a video, Joker Out announced their second studio album Demons. It was five months in the making and, as they say, is more sophisticated lyrically and in terms of arrangements than the first album. Photo by Mark Pirc

You celebrated the release of Katrina in a very special way, by diving into the ice-cold Kamnik Bistrica (T.N.: an Alpine river in northern Slovenia).

Kris: Niko, our head of security, the all-round father of the band, had been persuading us all summer to go for a dive in Kamnik Bistrica, and it just happened to coincide with the release of the song. It was great to be able to relax for the last hour before we embarked on a new chapter of our creative journey. We had breathing exercises before the dive, and when you opened your eyes and looked at the Kamnik Alps, it was really beautiful.

Bojan: I loved it, we felt like Vikings (laughs). We were guided through the whole experience by Jernej and it was very spiritual. In one hour we came together as a community to perform this ritual. It was cathartic.

Most of the texts were penned by you, Bojan. When it comes to inspiration, you have said in several interviews that you do not draw from your own life experiences. The second album lets you know that guys are growing up, gaining experience. So was there anything different about writing this album, did you draw more from yourself?

Bojan: With this album I can say that the lyrics are my story. Here, I've drawn exclusively from myself. Except for the song "Plastika" (Plastics).

Kris: It's still a personal experience anyway. In the song Plastika, he expresses his feelings through other people, similar to, say, Bele sanje (White Dreams) on the previous album.

Besides your music, your fashion style is also evolving. It kind of works that the music you make and your style go hand in hand. Does this happen naturally or do you adapt your personal style to the music? Who takes care of your visual style?

Kris: We are aware that the visual style, together with the musical and sound style, is part of the overall image of each artist. We want to do that ourselves, but we also know that it's necessary and that's why we work with certain stylists. For the cover of Demoni, Damir Raković Ponorelii, who will also dress us for Križanke, took care of the styling, and we hope for further cooperation. But today we dressed ourselves (laughs).

"The first album was a patchwork from the beginning of our creative journey to when it came out. Whereas the new album is really a reflection of who we are now, in this moment. It's our present, it's our imprint." tells us the singer of Joker Out. Photo by Primož Lukežič.

The album features ten new songs, including two in Serbian. Does this foreshadow a more serious, planned entry into the Balkan music market?

Bojan: I've always wanted to write something in Serbian, because my ancestors are from there. I always wanted my grandmother to understand what I was singing. When I show her a new song, it's great, but when you don't understand something, you can't like it to the max. That was my wish at first, but in the last year or two, everyone in the band has had the wish to go to the Balkans. The fact that there are two songs in Serbian on the album indicates the beginning of that journey.

What is your favourite song on the new album?

Kris: It depends, it changes from week to week. At the moment my favourite songs are Demoni (Demons) and Ne bi smel (I shouldn't have).

Bojan: I have my own moments too, but right now my favourite songs on the album are Padam (Falling), Novi val (New Wave), Ona (She) and Demoni.

NGVOT is a song from the new album, for which Kris wrote the music and lyrics four years ago. "Just because I wrote a song doesn't mean it's my favourite. Of course it has a special place in my heart, but it would probably be different if I had written it six months ago instead of four years ago." Photo by Mark Pirc

Can we say a few words about Novi val? What is this song about?

Bojan: At the time I wrote the lyrics for Novi val, there were forest fires in the Karst region (T.N.: plateau with lots of forest in southwestern Slovenia). That was the moment when I realised that we were clearly sliding into self-destructiveness as a society. And yet, I feel the call from the people around us and from ourselves to have the will and the desire to not let it be so. It is a kind of call to be who we are, but to say it out loud.

The album will be presented on 9 September at a concert in Križanke. If I'm not mistaken, the tickets are sold out. What can we expect?

Kris: The young Slovenian band will finally perform in Križanke. It's obvious that we are entering a new creative phase and we hope that our Slovenian fans will accept the fact that we are also going to the Balkans.

Bojan: I was thinking this morning that we have a lot of young fans and this concert will probably be the first concert in Križanke for many of them. I hope that they will remember their first concert in Križanke for the fact that they were at a great Joker Out concert.

"At the time I wrote the lyrics for Novi val, there were forest fires in the Karst region. That was the moment when I realised that we were clearly sliding into self-destructiveness as a society." says Bojan about the song Novi val. Photo by Ana Kovač

You've had a summer full of gigs, and it's true to say that you're the hottest band in the country right now. What's the best thing you've received from your fans, or an event that will stay with you forever?

Kris: It's fascinating when you come to a place you've never heard of before and it's full of people under the stage. That's what it was like in Veliko Ubeljsko, for example. That's one of the big things. I remember when we played in Sevnica and we were still taking pictures for 45 minutes after the show. A girl came up to us and, although she was waiting in line for a photo, she said she didn't want a picture with us, she just wanted to tell us how much our music meant to her. Then we talked, and it was refreshing that someone wanted to talk to you and not just take a picture.

Bojan: I agree with everything Kris said. They throw home-made bracelets on stage with names, song titles. That's definitely going to stay in my memory. At Veliko Ubeljsko, a guy from the middle came to the stage and brought me a potted plant. If I'm not mistaken, it was a cyclamen. But this year I had another big moment, and that was to stop getting upset by negative comments. If you want it or not, when you read something nasty, offensive, it just affects you. This year it happened that a person wrote a message saying that she had problems existing in this world and that she was still here because of our music. When I read that, I reflected on it. If, in fact, what we have done has saved just one person's life, it is completely irrelevant if 18 million people tell me that I am a complete loser. We have had at least five or six messages like that this year, and that is a really big thing.

Then do you read the comments online?

Bojan: I can't help it, I go and read. People are really relentless. On the one hand, it's horrifying, but on the other hand, if you don't take it too seriously, it's funny.

Kris: I've read all the comments under our videos. I guess I don't get as affected by criticism as Bojan does. However, I think it's more significant for Bojan because he is the author of the majority of the lyrics. If they attack our songs, they attack him as the author. Personally, I just like to laugh at all the comments.

"If, in fact, what we have done has saved just one person's life, it is completely irrelevant if 18 million people tell me that I am a complete loser." Photo by Ana Kovač

What's the most bizarre, unusual request from a fan?

Bojan: Collectively, it is extremely annoying that we're probably the only band that's expected to organise a three-hour photo shoot with anyone who wants it after the show. The organisers have this idea that they're going to invite us to the gigs, and we're obliged to let anyone backstage, laugh and be nice to everyone. That can be very disturbing after a concert when you are exhausted and need some peace. After two, three nights in a row of shows, we are exhausted. Don't get us wrong, we always like to take time to take photos, talk to our fans, but sometimes it's not doable.

Kris: We're considered a phenomenon. Especially this year, some of the organisers were surprised by the response of our audience and then wanted to promise something more to the guests. They promised that everyone would be able to have their photo taken with us.

How has popularity affected your private life in the last two years?

Bojan: I am much more nervous about it.

Kris: It's not the easiest at times, especially, as we said, when the organisers expect us to take photos with everyone after the show when we're completely exhausted. Of course, you don't want to be rude to the fans and you're grateful that they're there to watch and support you. But sometimes it feels like people don't realise that we are only human too and that sometimes we need peace. With Bojan that is the worst, the rest of us are a bit luckier.

You either have stage presence or you don't. You have it, the audience can see it, feel it. What about you, what goes through your mind when you are on stage?

Kris: If it's a good gig, nothing should go through your head. When you start thinking, it's not good.

Bojan: This year, for me or for all of us, the Castle Festival was one where we performed in pure euphoria from start to finish. I couldn't compose myself for three hours after the concert. At some concerts, if I don't catch a good wave of enjoyment, I honestly find myself thinking about everything, from what I'm going to eat for lunch the next day to how I'm going to go home afterwards. You can't be 100% present at all concerts, but we certainly maintain a certain standard of quality at all concerts. Then it depends on whether we "go off" or not.

"If music could save the world, then the world would have been saved a long time ago." Photo by Mark Pirc

Would you ever play for a political party, have you been invited before?

Kris: We have not been invited and we also wouldn''t do it. I don't think it's necessary to put ourselves out there, especially in Slovenia, where we have a rather toxic political environment. When you go to play for one, you immediately "alienate" the other half of your audience, and it's completely unnecessary. It's a little bit disingenuous to be an idol to certain people from a certain point of view, but then you start imposing something on them that you are not really qualified for or capable of.

Bojan: Why should anyone care what our political beliefs are just because we are public figures. Politics and music have nothing in common, except when it comes to musical rebellion. I honestly don't believe in a musical revolution anymore, as far as political revolt is concerned. If music could save the world, then the world would have been saved a long time ago. That is because I think that the best revolutionary songs were written a long time ago, and we are still talking about the same issues as we did ten or 40 years ago. I think politics is a big no for us.

What Siddharta and Big Foot Mama were for the older generation, you are now for the young. How does it feel when they draw parallels between you and legendary Slovenian bands? Do you feel pressure, maybe because Kris's father penned the biggest Slovenian rock hits?

Kris: In the beginning it annoyed us when we were compared to Big Foot Mama, maybe because of my dad, but also because of the music, because five years ago it was all more basic, rock and roll. Then we were compared to Siddharta, and now we are so unique that we can't be compared to anyone, at least not stylistically. Maybe they can compare us to Siddharta, in terms of how much we can do for the young generation. And that's very nice to hear, it's a great honour for us.

Bojan: It's definitely an honour. On my first MP3 player I listened to Big Foot Mama, Siddharta, Trkaj… . Every generation, every child needs, or rather it's good that they have, music to grow up with, to go to school with, to fall in love with for the first time, to dream with. We have succeeded in being that music for new generations. We are very proud of that and we are moving on.

To Stožice, then?

Kris: That's right, 6 October 2023.

For a musician to fill Stožice is practically the highest step in Slovenia. Are you scared?

Bojan: When we filled Cvetličarna twice, Križanke was a very logical next step. We thought about moving the concert from Cvetličarna to Križanke, but because of the beautiful red thread of the story and the steps in our lives, we decided that we would rather do Cvetličarna first and then perform in Križanke. Stožice is three times bigger than Križanke. It is quite scary that this is already our next step.

Kris: If there's ever a time to do it, it's now. I'm more scared of the question of what's next. We are lucky that after we can say that we have filled up Stožice, which is in principle the most you can achieve in Slovenia, we can target the Balkans. We are lucky that nobody knows us in the Balkans and that we will still be able to play there. My biggest fear would be that we would achieve everything in Slovenia and then we would not be able to do anything more.

Bojan: We are really going to the Balkans, where we are absolute nobodies. We are starting from scratch, with only the knowledge and infrastructure we have. Senidah has given us all a little bit of a dream. She is in the Balkans, she has made a very big leap for Slovenian music.

After the big concert in Križanke, where they will present their second studio album, it's time for Stožice for Joker Out. Kris and Bojan admit that it's scary, but now is the right time to take this step. Photo by Ana Kovač

Križanke, Stožice, then it's the Balkans. Where else will your journey take you?

Kris: Los Angeles. The post-production of the second album was done by a producer we got on well with, and we expressed our desire to visit him in Los Angeles. At the time, we hadn't thought about working for the American market yet, but this producer was very impressed with our music. He wrote that he hadn't had such an interesting band "to remix" for years and invited us to record the best songs in English in a studio in Los Angeles and then show them to someone. There are so many possibilities.

Bojan: Maybe Stožice will be brought down, because we'll be doing Madison Square Garden (laughs).

If you could choose any musician, Slovenian or foreign, who would you like to work with in the future?

Kris and Bojan: Among the Slovenian ones, it's Magnifico.

Bojan: Senidah seems to me to be a very big phenomenon. She is a top musician, singer and artist. She is a bohemian personality who was underrated in Slovenia, then she went to the Balkans, where she is the alpha and omega. And then Abba, Kanye West and Pharrell Williams.

Kris: Among the world's stars, Paul McCartney.

You spend a lot of time together. Do you ever get annoyed by each other?

Bojan: We're like brothers. We can love each other, but when we get on each other's nerves, we really get on each other's nerves. But there is an element of brotherhood, not friendship, in the fact that at the end of the day any argument is resolved and we move on as if nothing had happened. It is the same when you have a fight at home and then half an hour later it is all forgotten. We get it out of ourselves and move on.

How do you resolve conflicts within the group? Who has the final say when you can't agree on something, like which songs go on an album?

Kris: It depends on what the decision is. For financial decisions, Martin and I have the final say, for creative matters it's usually Bojan. But in principle, it's a democracy.

Bojan: I don't know if we've ever had such different conflicts of interest that a veto was needed.

Is there any jealousy between you, given that Bojan is the frontman of the band?

Kris: I'm honestly glad that I'm not in Bojan's position.

Bojan: Sometimes I wish I was in a different position. But in the last year we have made it very clear to everybody what the dynamic is, that we are a five-man band. All the commitments, like interviews and so on, were done by all of us. There are five people here and the focus is no longer just on me, as it was at the beginning. We have got rid of that and I don't think there is any basis for jealousy between us. Everyone is in his position because he is the best and because he wants to be there.

There is one last question that we cannot get past. Who is single, who is happily in love?

Kris and Bojan: One is single, the other is in a relationship.

Translation by @kurooscoffee DO NOT REPOST!

#joker out #kris gustin #bojan cvjeticanin

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