#But if you spit in that kindness then he’s a lot less forgiving than his son

[artsy-hobbitses]

WIP because the mere WHISPER of an AU where Thunderhoof gets to go into Antihero Mob Boss territory (because there are things far eviler than he in this world, and he’s got /standards/) and be a genuine StagDad to his Lambo Sons has me feral.

FERAL YOU HEAR.

[breathlesswordsbloodyknees]

On Maiar forms and "nullification"

Okay, I’m staying home to ease the stress of waiting for the result of Baby’s First HR Report and don’t want to think about it, so have some more meta. Expanding on these posts, part one and part two.

A deeper interpretation on this quote from Ósanwe-kenta, Vinyar Tengwar #39: “they(Maiar) became wedded to the forms of their evil deeds, and if these bodies were taken from them or destroyed, they were nullified until they had rebuilt a semblance of their former habitations.”

“they became wedded to the forms of their evil deeds": This, I kind of struggle with. I don't think it's a simple as they do evil deeds, they get stuck in their forms. But I also don't think it's as easy as they enjoy their form and their deeds so much that they're "wedded".  Some secret third thing. Interesting word choice there though. (sauron’s underlying “give me your troth" vibe every time he talks about the Rings echoes here imo but i have absolute brain rot about these two)

"and if these bodies were taken from them or destroyed" This for me is Jack Lowden Sauron in Forodwaith, the one that gets betrayed by Adar, kitten ears and all (I gotta find that tweet). He's literally at the height of his power (for that age, though Lowden Sauron plays it with a air of uncertainty, the shot of him taking a breath and looking up at the crown after he kneels) and he gets cast down from great heights. 

"they were nullified" I think you could take this a few different ways, but my theory is that Lowden Sauron's prideful evil overlord vibe is broken by his downfall and he slithers into the form of a low man. It's bed-rotting, really, wrapping yourself in a tattered blanket while you try to ignore the world and your mistakes. 

And there’s textual evidence for Sauron having repented after Morgoth’s fall. It’s referenced insubstantially in the Silmarillion, as a “some say” type story. Sauron “repents in fear” “lingers on Middle-earth” “beginning with fair motives”.

This concept is expanded on and solidified more in Letter 131, where Tolkien is trying to get the SIlmarillion published alongside lotr. He more or less says because of Mairon’s origin, Maia of light and beauty and perfection, Sauron was capable of loving or understanding other individual beings. But this was “correspondingly weaker” than his evil schemes, becoming “the sole object of his will, and an end, the End, itself” (“I see the end, Celebrimbor. So clearly. I have seen it from the moment I awoke. But his end…It was different than mine.” he spits out like he’s willing it to be true)

“until they had rebuilt a semblance of their former habitations.” So in a less-than-forgiving-for-the-nuances view, it’s Tolkien saying they’re evil and they’re gonna keep being evil. Rebuilding his former habitations to me has been Sauron’s steps in S2. What he did to Celebrimor, to Mirdania. Manipulation, cold calculation, violence. All he's ever know under Morgoth, dominance and submission, unrelenting. Old habits die hard.

And what he did to Galadriel. I have a lot of thoughts on how the fight in the finale played out. She’s a formidable warrior, Commander of the Northern Armies, giving it her all, she’s skilled. But he’s an ancient spiritual being, having been awoken since before the breaking of the First Silence. He’s eerily silent, parrying her grunts of effort with ease, doing his sick moves with the crown. He's smooth glass on a lake, but he's having fun. At least until she rebukes him, “The door is shut.” 

Then, his composure slips. She has denied him. His blows are vicious now, personal. He’s exerting as much effort as she is. (he fucking growls I stgggg) He’s attacking now, not just playing around, culminating in a brute yell as he strikes for her neck. His expression when she cuts his cheekbone, rage has taken over. (You cut Mairon? You cut his perfect cheek? Stabbing for Galadriel! Blood bond for 1000 years!!) 

And the stabbing. (i’m still gnawing on every bit of that scene, it’s what finally made me pick up the show) The stalwart defiance bleeds from her face, her eyes flutter, then are drawn to the crown inside her. The moment stretches between them, the music goes quiet. She knows, has known, that he’s evil. She’s seen the bodies, has seen the ruin, has sworn her oath. She's no silly schoolgirl. But in all his overlording terror, she never really thought…never really thought deep down that he would hurt her, at least not like this. 

And from his face, searching her eyes almost frantically, neither did he. 

One more step away from Halbrand, from Mairon. One more step back to Sauron, to Gorthaur. 

But then he twists the crown (that shouldn’t be as hot to me as it is) and at her gasp, his eyes widen, he exhales. There’s a greedy glint of fascination in his eyes, a slight upturn of the lips. Almost like he’s lost himself in playing her pain "like a harp", exquisite beauty for him to revel in. This is it, for me. He’s rebuilding a semblance of his former habitations, he’s back on the path to evil. It's his "fine, make me your villain" moment. I'll be the monster you think I am. (i think we’ll see some straying though. a girl can hope)

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

@gufu-vire is completely 100% to blame for this casual cannibalism (a dude gets his dick eaten like gordon ramsey sampling food but he kinda deserves it tbh), gore, very dark/black "comedy", raphtav i guess, haarlep is there too, devils be devilling

Read on AO3

-

“Suppertime. My favourite time of day.”

Raphael sat looming at the head of the dining table, set with candles and cutlery to the lovely backdrop of a roaring fireplace, a fancy napkin tucked into his collar. In the seat next to him was Tav, equally prepared, nursing a goblet of wine. A huge covered platter manifested in front of them, the kind used to display full carcasses of great birds or whole roasted hogs. Muffled screaming could be heard from inside it. The devil rubbed his hands together and reached out to remove the lid, revealing a naked, bound, and gagged man presented on the plate with fruits and nicely cooked vegetables. The poor man’s bloodshot eyes spun wildly, only widening in horror when he realised where he was and who was in his company. Paralysed from the neck down by magic, all he could do was look around and shriek.

“Hmmm…a lot of supple flesh on this one,” purred the devil, hungrily appraising the meal.

“Looks a bit gamey to me,” commented Tav. Raphael ignored her, carefully selecting a large, sharp, serrated knife made specifically for cutting meat.

“I can’t quite decide what I want to sample first,” he said, lazily dragging the blade’s tip across the man’s body. Tender skin split shallowly wherever it went. “The flank, perhaps? Or the thigh? Ah, or maybe the belly…”

By this point the man had chewed his gag enough to spit it out. “What in the name of the Gods are you doing?! Stop!” He cried. “Please! Just let me go! Please!”

“Now why would I do that?” Raphael drawled, darkly amused. “If I released every pig that squealed before it was stuck, well, then I’d never eat a thing, would I?”

“I’m not a pig, you sick bastard!” Yelled the man. Raphael tilted his head, looking condescendingly down his nose.

“Aren’t you? My sweet little mouse informed me of your, quite frankly, atrocious lack of decorum at the Caress, and that has me suspecting otherwise…”

“I thought she was a whore!” Hollered the man.

“And yet, when she informed you she was not, your unwanted advances continued, violently so in fact. My, what a conundrum you’ve found yourself in…”

“Lady, please,” the man turned his watery eyes to Tav, who had been silently sipping wine and watching this unfold. “You have to tell him. It was just a misunderstanding! I was – I was drunk! Don’t let him hurt me, please!”

Tav plucked a grape from the bunch resting next to the man’s hip and popped it into her mouth.

“Oh, you won’t get any sympathy from my mouse,” laughed Raphael, “she is far less forgiving than I am. She’s the one who brought you here to me, after all.”

“And who the fuck are you then, huh? Her dad?” Snarled the man. Like many animals, when backed into a corner, fear turned to anger and they lashed out. “Or are you just some sanctimonious prick who thinks he’s better than other men because he asks first?”

“Sanctimonious? Oh, no. Far from it.” All humour had dimmed from Raphael’s expression. With eerie stoicism he rolled his shoulders, never breaking eye contact as his human form melted away in a burst of flame and his true, fiendish nature was free. He flexed his wings as wide as they would go. Thrashed his tail. Leered and bared all of his hellish teeth; relished in the base terror the man exuded as he realised just how much trouble he was truly in.

“Nonononono wait, puh-please!” The man blubbered. Fat tears streamed down his pallid cheeks. “We can – we can make a deal! You – you’re a devil, right?”

“Yes, I am a devil,” Raphael rumbled. He leaned forward, closing the distance between his face and the man’s, his irises burning as his dark eyes glittered with sadistic malice and glee. “And here is the deal I’m offering, you contemptuous wretch: I am going to kill you, and I am going to eat you. Not necessarily in that order. What do you think? Are we tempted?”

“Bloody bards…always so dramatic,” Tav muttered. Once again she was kindly ignored.

“Please, I’m begging you,” the man sobbed.

“Quite the sudden change of tune!” Raphael said. “But I’m afraid I’ve already made up my mind. What was it you called me just a moment ago? Ah, yes. A prick. I believe that’s the perfect place to start.”

“Finally,” said Tav, but she was drowned out by the man’s awful, guttural screams as Raphael cut the first slice.

Clinical, with a butcher’s precision, he handled the man’s flaccid cock as one would handle a hefty sausage, lifting it above hairy, shrivelled testicles so he could chop at its base. The jagged edges of the knife sawed through foreskin, muscle, sinew and tubes, vibrant blood gushing from ruined flesh. Most of it soaked into the man’s pubes and flooded over his thighs. Tav handed Raphael a plate – the good china – and he dropped the severed penis onto it, adding a few vegetables for good measure.

“What is all that screaming about?” Haarlep swaggered into the dining hall, pursing his lips at what he saw. “Oh, you’re having idiot for dinner and you didn’t invite me? I’m hurt.”

“Hi, Haarlep,” said Tav.

“Hello, Mousie,” the incubus cooed, blowing her a kiss. Raphael scowled.

“Pull up a seat, if you must, otherwise you can leave.”

Haarlep pulled out a chair and sank himself into it, grinning. “Oh no, I’m definitely staying. I never pass up an opportunity to watch you gobble down cock.”

Raphael sneered as his pets laughed. The man on the table wheezed and gurgled, marinating in his own blood as the stump where his cock used to be kept spurting. He would not die. Not until Raphael allowed it. Not until he’d watched himself be consumed.

“Poor thing,” Haarlep crooned at the bleating meat, his salacious hands wandering over his harnessed body. His very-much attached cock was always a breath away from being hard. “Tell me how it hurts. Tell me how you suffer. You’ll do that for me, won’t you? Say you will.”

“By the Nine Hells, Haarlep! Not at the dinner table!” Barked Raphael, outraged.

“Ugh. Spoilsport,” muttered the demon, but he obeyed.

With delicate manners befitting his stature and standing, Raphael cut a piece from the penis, speared it onto his fork, and slipped it into his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully, savoured the noisy swallow. The man watched, aghast, because he couldn’t do anything else.

“Mmm…pleasant texture. A little on the stringy side, but the flavour is quite enjoyable.” Raphael took another bite, this time with a dash of carrot and parsley. “Would you like a piece, mouse?”

Tav sighed. “This guy is here because I didn’t want his cock, Raphael.”

“Fair point.”

Haarlep snorted, snatching the bloodied blade and his own plate. Ready to pick the meal apart like a starving man at an all you can eat buffet. “I want those testicles.”

[holdmytesseract]

moodboard by @chennqingg <3

Rules To Break

Jotun!Prince!Loki Laufeyson x fem!Æsir!Princess!Reader

Summary: Prince Loki of Jotunheim - son of King Laufey and heir to the throne is assigned to train a bunch of Asgardian men, in order to turn them into warriors. What happens when Odin's daughter, Princess Y/N crosses his paths in ways he would've never expected? While the Prince is completely unaware, the Princess struggles to keep up her several masquerades...

Warnings for this Chapter: fluff, bit of suggestive smut... I think that was it! Let me know if I forgot something!

Word Count: 2k

a/n: This is it, guys! The grand finale! 😁 I hope you all like it! ☺️

Divider by the lovely @fictive-sl0th 💚

Tagging: (in the comments!)

Ice Flower Masterlist ❄ Masterlist

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

You would've expected a lot of people to step inside your chambers. Estrid, your father, brother, guards - but you would've never expected to see the tall, bulky and handsome frame of the man who haunted your dreams and occupied your mind on no end - Loki. You couldn't believe your eyes at first, blinking heavily and literally staring holes into him. "L-Loki?" You asked in disbelief; quite shocked. You didn't know how to feel about this. Feeling the urge to yell at him on one side. To tell him to go away and never come back. You wanted to let him know how much you hated him. Spit it right into his face. Though, on the other side, you couldn't deny the way your heart skipped more than just one beat, when you laid your eyes upon him; or when he gave you that smile.

"Hello, princess Y/N." Loki started, taking a bow. "I am sorry for disturbing you and being so rude to just barge in - and I'm certain you wish to know why I am here at all." The moment his deep, yet soft voice urged to your ears, your memory immediately took you back to the lake all those weeks ago. Especially to that one night, where he kissed you. A tingly feeling spread all throughout your belly at that thought. "I-I... Yes." More words weren't able to leave your lips. You were way too overwhelmed by all those feelings and thoughts coursing through your system - and by his sudden appearance.

"Well, first of all, I... I would like to apologise. I am the reason you are trapped inside your chambers. I regret informing your father. I really do, but I-I had no other choice. You must understand this. I had my duties and obligations, unfortunately. So, I beg of you... Please forgive me, my princess." His kind and gentle words touched you. There was, without a doubt, honesty swinging within his voice, telling you that he really meant what he said. This wasn't one of his macho shows, no... That was him, showing you his probably most vulnerable side. You could feel that he was truly sorry, but... Could you forgive him? It was a difficult question, but then you remembered, how you actually lied to him. You didn't tell him who you were. You kissed Loki, without him even knowing that you were the princess. Hence, you almost slept with him. You put on a mask and more or less fooled him. So... Was it fair to be still angry at him, when he wasn't angry at you anymore? Both, you and him made mistakes.

You looked up to meet his ruby eyes, nodding. "I understand you, prince Loki. I forgive you - and I-I hope you can forgive me, too." The prince's lips twitched into a smile; visibly relieved. "I forgave you already a long time ago, Y/N." You couldn't help the blush, which spread over your cheeks; his charming smile causing your heart to skip another beat. But the look in his eyes told you, that this wasn't the only reason why he was here today.

"You, uh... You didn't just come all the way from Jotunheim to apologise, did you?" Loki chuckled, shaking his head. "No, I didn't. You are right," he said, stepping closer. Blinking, you frowned, as the prince reached for your hand and gently - almost cautiously; afraid to make a mistake - took yours into his big one, swallowing it whole. You were confused and yet you felt those butterflies within your belly again, as he touched you; never wanting him to let go, because it felt so good. So right. As if your hand belonged right there. You saw that he was quite a bit nervous - something very unusual for the usually so confident and sassy prince, you thought. You could've sworn you saw his heart beating against his bare chest, as his stunning eyes met yours once more. "Y/N, I... I just couldn't stop thinking about you the past weeks. I tried to occupy my mind; take my thoughts elsewhere, but... I couldn't. I think about you day and night. In fact, I find myself thinking about you even at the most inopportune moments of the day. I was blind at first, didn't know what was going on, but then I realised... I... I love you, Y/N. Ever since those nights we spent together at the lake. I fell in love - hopelessly, and... And for some reason I feel as if a link exists between your heart and mine, and should that link be broken, either by distance or by time, then my heart would cease to beat and I would die."*

His words echoed in your head, repeating themselves over and over again. Loki is in love with you. Loki loves you. He is in love with you. Hearing this, caused your heart to almost beat out of your chest. He loves you. You never anticipated, that he would ever feel the same. That you could be more to him than just an 'adventure'. Another fling. Nothing more. But now... Now he told you that he loved you - and the feeling was mutual. You didn't want to admit to yourself and neither to Estrid, but it was true. You knew that now. You loved him, too.

"I-I really hope that my heart didn't betray me and that you are feeling the sa-" You didn't let Loki finish his sentence. Enough talking, you thought and freed your hand from his gentle grasp, wrapping both your hands around his neck. Standing on your tiptoes, you pulled him down and silenced him with a kiss. The second your lips collided with his, fireworks exploded within you. It felt so good to finally kiss him again. So right. Like home... It felt like home.

Loki sighed into the kiss, relieved. That was all he needed to know, in order to ask you the important question, which was still lingering on his mind. But first, he enjoyed the kiss; unable to resist the urge to pull you closer. So, the prince did just that, wrapping his strong arms around you. "I take that as a yes then." Loki chuckled breathlessly, after letting go of your alluring lips. "You better will." He smiled; couldn't help but to kiss you again. It was more than clear, that you loved the prince truly and wholeheartedly - and yet, there was still nervosity running through his veins, given the fact that he still had to ask you the probably most important question of both, yours and his life. "There's... There's something else, darling..." Loki started, tracing the clothed skin of your hips with his thumbs. You looked at him expectantly; waiting patiently for him to continue to speak. "A question I have to ask you..." "You may ask, my prince. Whatever it is." He took a breath, eyes never leaving yours. "I really hope this isn't too bold to ask, but... Would you like to marry me, princess Y/N?"

You blinked, couldn't quite believe the words which had just left Loki's lips. "M-Marry you?" He nodded. "I know this is quite rushed, but yes. I really wish to marry you." "I-I..." "If you need more time or don't want to marry me, it's completely fine." You shook your head. "N-No! I... I do want to marry you! It's just so... surprising. I'm a bit overwhelmed." Loki's brows furrowed in compassion. "I'm so sorry, my love, for catching you off-guard." You squeezed his shoulders, giving him a soft smile. "It's the best surprise since years. I always wished to marry out of love - not because I had to. I just hope my father agrees to this..." "He does, my princess. I already talked to him; asked for your hand in marriage." Your eyes widened. "Y-You did?" "Yes. We have his blessing - and my father's blessing." A light-hearted giggle left your lips, as you felt happiness flooding your veins. Was this really just happening? Or were you dreaming? "So, we are going to get married?" "We are, darling. I'm never letting you go again. I don't want another prince to have you. It's time for me to make you mine."

"And that's how I met your father." You finished telling the love story of you and Loki to your eight-year-old twins, Áki and Váli. The boys were sitting on the fur, criss-crossed in front of you and the fireplace with wide eyes, hanging on your every word. Of course, you told the story more 'romantically' and left out the juicy, 'dirty' and 'dangerous' details, of course. They weren't meant for children's ears. "Wow..." Váli gasped. "So you are actually a warrior, mommy?" Asked Áki. You chuckled, running your hands through both boy's curls. "If you wish to call it that, yes." "Is that why daddy fell in love with you?" You had to suppress a giggle at your son's sweet, innocent question. "Perhaps, sweetheart, but I'm afraid you have to ask your father." "Ask me what?" You flinched as Loki's voice was suddenly echoing through your chambers. He had been away on royal duty for three days and had just come home.

"Daddy!" Both boys jumped up; excited to see their father again. "Hello, little princes." Loki smiled and squatted down, opening his arms for them to run into - what they did, of course. Your husband lifted them up easily, cradling each son in one arm. "I missed you." "I missed you, too, daddy," Váli whispered, cuddling closer to Loki.

Both boys didn't leave Loki's side from then on; clinging to him. He spent some quality time with his sons, of course, before he sent them to play outside a bit. He had missed his own flesh and blood, without a doubt - but he had also missed you.

"What was it Áki should ask me?" The king asked, wrapping both his arms around you, as you stood in front of the mirror, getting ready for the festive dinner tonight. You smiled at the mention of what you had told the twins. "Well, I was telling them our love story, because they asked me how I met you; being all curious about this and Áki was very enthralled by the fact that I was a 'warrior'. He asked me if you fell in love with me because of that... I told him to ask you." Loki chuckled. "So, you told them our fairytale-like love story?" "I did - but of course I left out certain... details." "Certain details?" "Yes... Certain details, which are not meant for children's ears." Your husband spun you quickly around in his arms; a cheeky smile spreading over his lips. He knew of course exactly what you were talking about.

"I should've devoured you back then." You looked up at Loki, giving him a playful frown. "I beg your pardon, my king?" Another low chuckle left his lips; hands dipping to skim the clothed skin of your hips. "Back at the lake. I should've ravished you. It wouldn't have been wrong, given the fact that I became your husband anyway." A loud giggle rumbled through your chest, causing Loki's heart to skip a beat. Oh how much he loved you. "Good point, my love, but we didn't know that back then. And we both know that we shouldn't have risked it. I did what was right." "I know, my sweetness, I know." "Besides, you didn't even know who I was." Your husband nodded. "That is true, but it wouldn't have mattered. Even if you had just been a maiden, working on a farm, I would've made you my princess. My wife. The mother of my children. My queen, you are the only woman I truly ever wanted. You being the princess of Asgard just played into our cards. Nothing more, nothing less." You wrapped both your arms around his neck, smiling and blushing. "I love you, my king. More than words can say."

* Disclaimer: The last line is actually a quote from Guillermo del Toro's 'Crimson Peak' and therefore isn't my writing. It belongs to Mr. del Toro. ☺️ I just found it very fitting.

[builtbybrokenbells]

Gold Dust Woman | xiv

Apologies and confessions lead to a climactic end for Gold Dust Woman.

Read part thirteen here

Listen while reading: the chain - fleetwood mac (other songs mentioned but not really important to the story)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader, Sam Kiszka x f!reader, Danny Wagner x OC

Word Count: 15k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, oral (f!receiving), touch of voyeurism, biting, lots of dirty talk, brief mention of spitting, touch of degradation, drinking, swearing, angst, arguing, breakups, crying, insecurity, self doubt, feelings of regret, anger, lots of fluff near the end 🫶🏻, sorry if I miss any!!

The last chapter 😭 these last few months of writing this story has been absolutely spectacular for me. the love and support and engagement I’ve received from you all has been mind blowing, and I’m so thankful for each and every one of you. Without you guys, Gold Dust Woman would be nothing. So thank you from the bottom of my heart, and I really hope that you enjoy the ending as much as I did. As always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes 🫶🏻🫶🏻 (very lightly edited so please forgive me 😁)

“Sam,” You sighed, setting your coffee cup down with a shaking hand. “We have to talk.” You said, much less hesitation about your choices, now. It seemed like clarity had become you the minute you had realized Jake was the best person for you. You knew it was true, mostly because you had not felt one shred of anxiety that even came close to what you had been feeling all day. No, you weren’t excited to break Sam’s heart, but you were certainly less apprehensive about it than you were with Jake.

“That doesn’t sound good,” he said, stress already showing in his features. You managed a small smile, your stomach sick at the knowledge you would effectively have to go through two breakups in a single day.

“No, I guess it isn’t.” You said, moving to take a seat on the couch. “Sit with me?”

“Yeah, okay.” He whispered, sitting down beside you. You ran your hands over the fabric of your jeans, drawing in a long breath as you tried to settle your thoughts. Eventually, you looked over at him, noticing the sadness in his eyes before you even spoke a word. It killed you knowing that you had to be the bad guy despite months of trying to figure out how to end up the hero. The sad truth was, in the entanglement you had all found yourselves in, nobody could be the hero, yet you all seemed to fall somewhere under the victim category. So much suffering, yet no one to blame or save you from the pain.

“I love you, Sam.” You started, making sure that despite the impending doom, he knew that you still had so much love for him in your heart. Just because you were not going to be his forever did not mean that he wasn’t holding on to a huge part of you. “And I have for a really long time.”

“I know, y/n. I love you, too.” He said, watching expectantly as he prepared for the worst possible outcome of the conversation. You leaned back into the cushions, exhausted from the days events already, comforted none by the knowledge that it would only get worse from there. You reached out, grabbing his hand in your own and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“There’s a saying that’s always stuck out to me,” you explained, tone quiet and as relaxed as possible. “If you don’t receive the love from the ones meant to love you, you’ll spend the rest of your life searching for it. I feel like up until now, that’s exactly what I’ve been doing. I’ve been looking for so long that I’m starting to go blind, and I’m missing the entire point of being alive.” You laughed at your own stupidity, finding your search for love quite comical in the moment. You had spent a lifetime trying to find something that you never really believed in, and now that two blatant contradictions to your disbelief happened to be staring you in the face, you had no idea how to address it. “I don’t remember who said it, but it’s always stuck with me. I always thought it was you, Sammy. I really did. I wish it was, because it kills me to do this to you, but it’s not.”

“Oh,” he breathed, nodding his head slowly as he absorbed the information you were giving him. It was a heavy hit, especially after you had stormed into the room with such excitement to see him, but he managed to persevere.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, hoping to catch his eye to show him you were being genuine.

“You don’t have to be, Princess.” He assured you, letting out a long sigh. He could be all but mad at you, for he had made the bed that you were forcing him to lie in. “I knew the risks, and it was worth it. It was always worth it, for you.” He said, looking up to meet your face. “Y/n, I meant every single thing I said to you over the last few months; I care that you’re happy, and if this will make you happy, I can live with it.”

“You have no idea how badly I wish that it could’ve been us. I see Danny and Dylan, and I’m so envious that I never got to have that with you. It’s been so hard since the very beginning… I just feel like I never got to have you the way I wanted to.” You felt the tears brimming in your eyes once again, unsure if you could make it through the conversation without cracking. Everything hurt, and you had no idea how to stop it. Sometimes, you believed as though pain was the only thing you knew how to feel. “I love you so much Sam, and I’m lucky that I got the chance to have you at all, even if it was different than how I pictured it. These last few months were beautiful, and they taught me so much. Even if it didn’t work out the way we hoped does not mean it meant nothing to me.” Your cheeks were soaked with the admissions of your guilt, tears falling at an unprecedented rate and showing no signs of stopping. You couldn’t control it, and at this point, you didn’t really care to. Sorrow was heavy in the air, constantly following you and making home even when you tried so hard to keep it out. There was no shame in displaying your heart to him, because that’s all you knew how to do, anymore.

“Hey, come on.” He pleaded, reaching up to wipe your cheeks clean. “Don’t waste all of those tears on me. God knows I don’t deserve it.” He said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You do, Sam. You deserve the world, and I wish that I could have given it to you.” You cried, leaning into his touch in hopes that it would take away some of the pain. “Maybe I could have loved you better if I loved myself more. I might have found the courage to say something sooner, and we could be living in the universe where we’re happy and everything is okay.”

“This isn’t your fault, y/n.” He said, fighting back tears of his own. “It’s mine; I should have said something sooner, I should have fought harder, or maybe I never should have put you in a position like this at all. I guess it doesn’t really matter, now. The war is over, and you can stop fighting. You’re tired, and I’ve known it for a while. I’m sorry that I let things go this far. You can blame whoever you want, but please stop blaming yourself.” He moved ever so slightly closer to you, grabbing your face gently between his hands. “If this is going to make you the happiest, I would never be upset at you for it. You deserve every bit of happiness this world has to offer. You always try and give it to everyone else, but it’s your turn, baby. You get to enjoy it, and you don’t have to worry about me.” He wiped your face clean once more, the soft touch warming your soul and soothing the pain. You wished so badly to make everyone happy, to settle the problem with no casualties, but it was just not possible. Someone had to hurt, or all of you would hurt. There was no winning, and in a way, everyone lost at least something along the way.

“In another world, Sammy.” You said, recalling the daydreams you and him had shared in the past. They seemed so close, so real, but you didn’t want to reach for them anymore. Your arms were tired of searching for something that might never be found, and if they were, you knew they would not have been able to compare to the fairytale world that you had created in your mind. “We’d have the house, the dogs, and the rest of our lives.”

“I’ll be dreaming of that world forever,” he said, a sad smile crossing his lips. “Just make sure that he treats you right, because you deserve it, and you make sure that he knows he’s the luckiest man to ever walk this earth. If he doesn’t realize that, then I’ll remind him myself.”

“Thank you for understanding. Thank you for not hating me.” You sniffled, already so burnt out from the whirlwind of emotion the day had thrown at you.

“Hate you?” He scoffed, a smile on his face despite tears welling in his eyes. “There is no possible way that I could ever hate you, y/n. You’re my best friend above anything else, and you’ve given me a lifetime’s worth of happiness in just a few months. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but I could never make one as big as that.”

“I could never hate you either, Sammy. I hope that when this all settles, we can still be friends. I don’t want to live a life without you in it.”

“Of course we can. It’s going to suck at first, and it’s going to hurt, but we’ll get through it. We can get through anything.” He promised. “Thank you for being honest, and thank you for giving me the best few months of my entire life.”

“Thank you, Sam. You showed me how beautiful this life can be when you’re looking in the right places, and you helped me more than you can ever imagine.” You said, reaching out to brush the hair from his face. You let your thumb drift over the soft skin on his cheek, feeling better than you had in days. You hated hurting him, but you knew that it was what you had to do; Sam was your best friend, someone you loved to be around and loved making memories with, but in the long term, it just wasn’t right. You could have a good life with him, a great one, even, but you feared that it paled in comparison to the life you could live with Jake. Sam was comfortable, familiar, and fantastic all the same. He would make a phenomenal partner, but you knew he would be suited best for someone else. Jake was what you needed, what you craved for the future, and you knew he was exactly what your heart wanted. The truth lied within the fact that you were aching all over after walking away from him, and now that you knew you were walking away from Sam, you felt lighter than you ever had before. It did not feel good to hurt him, but it felt good to free yourself from the chains that your entanglement was tying you down with, and it felt good to finally be certain in your own decisions.

“You did too, Princess.” He mumbled, closing his eyes to hold back his tears. “Like I said before, if you ever change your mind, I’ll be here. I’d wait for you forever if I had to. If you ever decide to try again, I promise I’ll do it right, next time.” He said, turning his head slightly to press a kiss to your thumb.

“It has nothing to do with rights and wrongs, Sammy. I made just as many mistakes as anyone else. Don’t punish yourself for it, because we were all doing what we thought was best.” He nodded, hearing your words and trying his best to adhere to the request. “Thank you for everything.” You said once again, making sure your gratitude was clearly expressed.

“I assume you have to go deliver the good news, now?” He asked, eyes glistening with an emotion you had never seen from him before. It was killing you to cause him such suffering, but it was for the best, and in years to come you hoped to look back on this rough patch and have all of you laugh at your own stupidity.

“Yeah, I guess so.” You sighed, ready to make amends with Jake but not ready to leave Sam. “One last kiss, for old times sake?” You asked, a shred of hope in your voice. He chuckled at your question, drawing you in to him without another word. The kiss was soft, sweet yet sad all the same. It was a celebration as much as it was a goodbye. When you parted, sadness lingered on both of your faces, but there was also relief in knowing that the struggle was over. As much as he was mourning the fact that he couldn’t have you, he respected your choice, and he knew that with time he could heal the wounds he collected from the battle. The dance that you had been doing was only worsening them, and with proper care, the scars might be so light that you would never guess they existed in the first place. “I love you, Sam. I think I will for the rest of my life. A piece of me will always belong to you.”

“Me too, y/n. I love you, and I hope that even after it’s all said and done, you don’t forget that.”

“Never.” You promised, placing another kiss to his cheek, this time. “I’ll see you soon, Sammy.”

“I hope so,” he said, grabbing your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze before rising to his feet. He gave a small wave goodbye before disappearing out of the room. You took in a long breath, but stood despite your body begging you not to. You were terrified to face the world after inflicting so much damage on another, and more so, you were terrified of rejection from Jake. After hurting him so badly, you would understand if he never wanted to speak to you again. You hoped that it was not the case as you broke into the hallway, headed straight for the direction of his dressing room, because you feared that him turning you down would effectively turn you to dust.

You stopped in front of his door, no more hesitation present in your mind as you knocked on the door. You waited for something, but received nothing. There was not even a hint that there was life inside the room. You swore under your breath as you raised your hand to knock again. You listened intently, wondering if you might be able to hear a movement beyond the door, but there wasn’t a thing that signalled that he was inside. You tried not to let the disappointment take over, but it was creeping up on you faster with every second that passed. You worried that you had effectively driven the final nail in the coffin, that you had pushed him just a little too far and now there was no way to recover from the hurt you had caused. You took a step back from the door as you continued deliberating your next move. You looked down the hallway, feeling like you had stumbled upon the key to the grand prize. Josh was walking towards you, mindless and uncaring of his surroundings.

You stepped towards him, cutting him off before he could make it any further and startling him with the suddenness. “Josh,” you greeted, trying to keep your frantic mind away from the public eye.

“Gold Dust Woman,” he greeted, slowly looking over your face. “You don’t look very good.”

“No,” you chuckled, knowing his observation barely scratched the surface “guess I don’t.” You sighed, wondering how to word your question to showcase the importance of your need for an answer. “Is Jake in his room? O-or do you know where he is? I really need to talk to him.” Your nervousness slipped out in your stutter, and he was quick to catch on to it.

“Uh, no, he’s not in his room.” He said, a note of sympathy in his eyes. “He’s in pretty bad shape, y/n. I think it’s best to leave things be for now.” If your heart could shatter any more, it did just that at the sound of his words.

“I know I fucked up, Josh. I just need to talk to him and make it right.” You whispered.

“Listen,” he sighed, placing his hand on your shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze “you’re my best friend, but he’s my brother. I know that you didn’t want to hurt him, and I know it was never your intention, but he needs some time to heal. Sometimes it’s better to just let it go and move forward.” His sympathy felt like a punch in the face, but his misunderstanding of your intent was even worse.

“No, Josh, I’m not trying to coddle him because I broke his heart, I’m telling you that I fucked up. I made the biggest mistake of my life, and I need to make it right. I’m not trying to put a bandaid on a bullet hole, I need to tell him that I was wrong.” You rushed your words, looking over his confused expression. You gave a nervous gulp, not wanting to speak the obvious but knowing that it would be the only way he understood your intent. “I just broke up with Sam. I was wrong, Josh, and I need to say it before it’s too late.” You were desperate in your explanation, hoping that now he could see what you were trying to tell him. His eyebrows raised, lips parting slightly in shock at your words. “This whole thing is a mess, and I know that I’m at fault, but I’m trying to do the right thing. I need to do right by him, Josh. I swear I’m not trying to hurt him any more.”

“Oh, wow.” He said, processing the information you had thrown at him.

“I know, and you can hate me for hurting them; god knows I deserve it, but he deserves the truth. He deserves everything good in this world and I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try. I know he’s your brother, and I know you’re trying to protect him, and I’m so grateful that he has someone as good as you to look out for him, but please, if he’s in your room just let me see him.”

“I don’t hate you, y/n. I just wish I could solve it for everyone, take the pain away, even. You’re all family, and this is incredibly confusing and frustrating, but I do not hate you.” He clarified, moving forward to pull you into a hug. “You’re sure?”

“More than anything else in the whole world.” You assured him, holding him tightly as if it would ease your hurt. His arms were familiar, but strange in the sense that you knew it was not him you were supposed to be hugging.

“I’ll let him know you’re looking for him.” He said, giving you a reassuring pat on the back.

“Thank you,” you said, but it held little weight in comparison to the relief you felt at his words.

“I think Aaron’s looking for you,” he nodded in the direction of the manager who was quickly approaching the pair of you. “Probably time for soundcheck.”

“Fuck sakes.” You sighed, turning to see for yourself. Josh was right, Aaron was talking to you before he was even in earshot, ordering your presence on stage. As much as you loved your job, you seemed to despise it more than anything in that moment. You looked back at Josh, giving him another silent thanks with your eyes before walking away. You went right to the stage, ignoring any other attempts at initiating conversation from anyone else passing by. Dylan was sitting at the drum set, tapping out a small beat while Riley was soloing on his bass guitar. Not even the sight of your best friends could break you from your misery; tears were still begging to be shed, only worsening when you picked up your own instrument. “Let’s get this over with.” You muttered, uttering a small check into the mic to make sure it was on.

“You seem chipper today.” Dylan noted, begging to catch a glimpse of your face so she could judge what type of poor mood you were in. “Left this morning before I even woke up. Felt like a cheap tinder date.” You let out a small chuckle at her joke, but opted not to respond as you tuned your strings to your liking. Without any warning, you let out a loud strum on the strings, kicking on your distortion pedal as you stepped towards the mic and let out a shout.

As if it were muscle memory, as soon as she heard the sound, Dylan joined in on the drums. Riley followed suit, singing into his own microphone alongside of you. You proceeded with the song, singing the lyrics with all of the emotion you were holding in your heart. Riley allowed you to sing the verses and the chorus, only joining in every so often when he felt the need to accentuate your impact. When the solo came around, you looked only at the floor as your hands did all of the work. As you finished, you leaned forward to sing the last few lines, ending the most passionate rendition of ‘Them Bones’ by Alice in Chains you had ever performed.

“So we’re angry, today.” Dylan said, catching her breath as she rested her arms for a moment.

“We’re everything today, Dylan.” You corrected, switching to your clean setting. “Try Little Wing.”

“You got it.” She said, waiting for you to begin. You played around with the Wah pedal, making sure your tone was right before you started the melodic intro. You couldn’t look out to the seats, knowing that there was only two bodies watching this time around. It killed you to know you had hurt the brothers enough that they felt as though they couldn’t even watch your rehearsal. Your chest was aching, wondering if you had truly fucked everything up as badly as you believed you did.

The cry of your guitar was similar to the one of your soul, echoing through the empty air just to return back and strike you in the face. Your eyes were still blurred with tears of defeat, but you refused to let any more fall. The weakness you had displayed within the last few hours left you shocked that you hadn’t crumbled to the ground in a mess of your former self, yet. You felt like you could, and you definitely wanted to, but you knew you had to keep going for just a little while longer. Your bones ached with exhaustion and your body was begging for a moment of peace, yet you continued on as if nothing was wrong. It was your best defence mechanism, and your only one. If you stopped now, you would never get back up again. As tempting as it was, giving up was not an option until you settled the score with Jake and did everything you could to make things right again.

Dylan drummed along with your playing and Riley was near perfect in his timing, but when you stepped up to sing, your fingers slipped from their position. An off note rang through the air, covered by your voice and quick work at recovery. You made it through the lyrics with no other mishaps, but when the outro came around, you seemed to completely lose your train of thought midway through. You let out a slur of curses, angry at yourself and the instrument for not doing what you wanted it to do. “All good, y/n.” Dylan tried to mediate, knowing your temper all too well. “Can try it again if you want.”

“No, just move on.” You shook your head, starting into another riff. You only chose to play it as a way to prove to yourself you still had the talent, but you couldn’t seem to get the right sound from your guitar that you were hoping for. You tried it a few more times, but couldn’t find the right rhythm for the outcome you wanted. “Fuck!” You exploded, your moment of anger catching you off-guard and echoing through the microphone. You practically ripped the strap from your body, slamming the guitar onto the stand and walking away without another word. Dylan nor Riley felt the need to call you back, knowing that your time on stage had come to an end for the time being. Forcing you to pick the guitar back up would only result in a catastrophic mess, and they were not willing to risk another Gibson guitar being shattered on the floor of a stage.

You walked around the corner, ignoring Aaron’s persistent complaints about your short lived soundcheck, and headed straight to your dressing room. The door slammed behind you with enough force to knock the building down and you collapsed on your couch without any care for your childish display. You put your head in your hands, hoping to hold the tears in for good, but they still seemed to find away around the strength in which your palms were pressed to your face. You felt like the world was ending, the sky crashing down and the earth cracking below you. After so long playing with fire, you had finally succumbed to the fatal burns of your own mistakes. You had hurt the two people you loved most, and you knew nothing about how to fix it, or even if you could mend the damage you had done.

You reached to your purse that was lazily discarded on the floor, rummaging around before finding a few single-shot bottles of whiskey. You took one and swallowed it down, ignoring the sting that settled in your chest, for it was much more pleasant than how you were already feeling. You dumped the other two into the coffee cup that Sam had given you, the liquid just reaching the brim of the cup. You took two long sips from it, uncaring of the unpleasant taste. You made it halfway through the brew before the knocking began. If you had to choose your least favourite sound, that would be at the top of your list. You ignored it the first few times, but it had eventually gotten so loud and persistent that you could no longer tune it out.

You swung the door open, met with the face of your stylist. “Told you we’d be spending lots of time together, today.” She said, opting to ignore your clear distress.

“Kind of in the middle of something.” You said, furrowing your eyebrows at her disregard for the scene.

“Moping around your dressing room?” She questioned, raising an eyebrow as she waited for an answer. When you remained silent, she stepped inside. “Let’s get you cleaned up and brand new, again.” She said, kicking the door shut behind her. She motioned for you to sit in your chair, to which you obeyed. She was a strong personality, one that was hard to adjust to, but you loved her. Much like everyone else on tour, she was family, and unlike everyone else, she wasn’t one to feed into your bullshit. “Get it all out now,” she said, looking to you as she took a seat on the arm of your couch.

“You want me to cry on command?” You questioned, confused about her motive.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I want.” She nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. You felt like you were being graded on your misery, and it was a very confusing feeling. So confusing, that you almost seemed to be distracted from your poor mood.

“I… I think I’m okay, now.” You said, certain that the tears had finally run dry.

“You better be sure, because once I start, I can’t have you crying all of my hard work away.” You wanted to argue with her, but somehow the blunt words seemed to snap you out of your previous state of mind. Actually, you found them quite funny. She approached you after pulling a few things from her bag, giving you ample opportunity to double back on your word. She kneeled in front of you, bringing a makeup wipe to your face as she softly removed any physical reminders of your hurt. “I told you not to let them steal your shine, Gold Dust Woman.”

“I think I stole my own shine, Rachel.”

“Mhm,” she shook her head, dabbing away the mascara stains from under your eye. “Whoever stole it needs to give me my girl back, because this is not the Gold Dust Woman I know.”

“I know.” You agreed, solemnly cementing her words in truth.

“We’re gonna make you look beautiful, and then hopefully your mind will follow suit. Sometimes you just need a little break from the world.” She was right, and usually your time spent with her was a break from the real world. She put you in a suit of armour with her work, turning you into a version of yourself you barely believed to be real. You hoped that once she dressed you in your stage clothes, you could find the confidence to make it through the rest of the night. She was like a mother in the way she cared; firm yet comforting, and unwilling to put up with any bullshit. Neither of you seemed to talk much about any troubles, but she always seemed to make you feel better just by being in your company.

Once your face was clean, she took extra time to soothe the puffiness from all of the crying. When she began to apply makeup, she used a gentle touch and utmost concentration. She didn’t break her focus until she was certain that she had perfected the look. She guided you to your clothes, allowing you to dress yourself before she fine tuned any details. You were clad in a gold tank top, elegant and beautiful in its simplicity. It was filled with very tiny, reflective sequins that from afar seemed to blend into one. It was low cut, the neckline lax and swooping down as it settled on itself. It stopped just above your navel, the material loose and comfortable to move in. She picked a pair of leather pants that flared at the bottom but stayed very form fitting above the knee. She pinned your shirt in place before moving on to your hair. She touched up her earlier work but didn’t change much, leaving it hang freely over your shoulders before spraying it with hairspray.

“How do you feel?” She asked, voice quiet as she stepped out of your view of the mirror. You inspected your reflection, wondering if the woman staring back at you was truly you, or just an imposter begging you to believe it. You couldn’t tell for a second that you had been such a mess only a short time before. Your eyes were painted dark and prominent, standing out even further by the accent of gold eyeliner she had trailed down your face. She had made gold tears with the makeup, so subtle that you could miss it, yet shining just perfectly under the light.

“You deserve a raise,” you breathed, leaning closer to inspect yourself even further. She crouched down, now the same height as you and staring into the mirror with you.

“Even when you cry, y/n, it’s made of gold.” She whispered, looking to your face with a small smile on her lips. “Bring back my Gold Dust Woman. Show them that you’re worth more than all of that pain.”

“Thank you, Rachel.” You said, feeling more gratitude for her than you could even comprehend. The relationship between an artist and a stylist is nearly incomprehensible; no, you did not share the darkest of your secrets with her, but she most often saw the most vulnerable and intimate parts of you. She was projecting your inner self outwardly, and to do so, she needed to know you wholly. She was phenomenal at her job, and you were eternally grateful for her.

“Don’t thank me yet.” She said, standing once again. “Put my work to good use, then we’ll have time for gratitude.” You chuckled at her bold persona, nodding in agreement. She straightened the gold chains around your neck before slipping out of the room in silence. You waited until her footsteps faded away until you moved out of your chair, finding a shred of courage to move towards the hallway yourself.

You peered into the open area, timid to find the bodies that occupied it. You leaned against the doorframe, finding Riley and Dylan only a few feet away from the stage. You could hear the soft lull of Jake’s guitar calling to you, begging you to go and watch him work his magic. You took a few steps forward towards your bandmates, sneaking up behind them and shocking them with your presence. “Hey,” you uttered, remorseful about your blatant disregard for the soundcheck earlier. Dylan tuned her head to look at you, softened by your shy expression. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“It’s okay,” she said, knowing that there was nothing you could do about it now. “Just don’t do it tonight.”

“Of course not,” you assured her, sneaking into the small space between her and Riley.

“You okay, now?” He asked, turning his head to look down at you.

“Yeah, much better.” You nodded.

“That’s all that matters.” He said, slipping an arm around your waist. Dylan did the same, a silent show of agreement. You slung you arms around their shoulders, finding it easier to stand with the strength of their support. You knew that no matter what happened, you had plenty of love coming your way. You had a world full of friends who would give anything to make you smile and go to the ends of the earth to take away the sadness. Grateful was not a strong enough word to express how you felt about them, and you wished you could be better at showing it. Your hope was that when the storm settled from loving the Kiszka’s, the world would appear easier to understand and navigate.

You watched the stage from the sideline, noticing immediately that you were on the same side as Jake normally took post on. It was hard to notice anyone or anything else when he was around because his presence took up all of the space in a room. He was beautiful, kind and generous beyond measure, and you were so close to having him forever. You were foolish to let him slip through your fingers once, and you would be damned to ever let it happen again. He was the earth you stood on, the sky above, and the air you breathed. Jake was everything, and you were an idiot for ever thinking otherwise. You felt entranced as you watched his fingers graze the fretboard, pulled in by his talent and suffocated by his beauty. Before you even knew it, the song had came to an end and the boys were walking away from the instruments.

You thought that this was your chance to get Jake by himself for a moment. As he walked towards you, head turned towards the ground, you broke free of the hold your bandmates had on you. You stepped to the side, landing a few feet in front of Jake in hopes to stop him from going any further. He looked up, surprised at your presence. He looked worse than you had ever seen him; his eyes were tired, bloodshot as if he’d spent the afternoon in the same state you had been. At the sight of you, he did not smile, nor did he give you any hint that he was happy to see you. You could not blame him, because if you were in his shoes, you would never want to speak to you again. Still, you persevered in hopes that you could change the situation for the better despite your heart begging you to run and hide.

“Jake,” you whispered, holding his gaze for as long as he would allow it. “Can I talk to you for a second? Please?”

“Y/n,” he sighed, pain rising in his features the longer he was in your company. “I just need some time, okay?”

“No, Jake, I swear-“

“Please,” he cut you off, clearly not knowing what you were trying to tell him. “Just give me a few days, then I promise we can try the friends thing.” He mumbled, averting his gaze away from you. You wanted to scream your love from him so loudly that it shattered the windows and lived inside the walls forever, to show the world how much he meant to you and how apologetic you were for not realizing it sooner, but you seemed frozen in your place. The rejection was not unexpected, but it was debilitating.

“No, I just need-“ you tried again, but his hand landed on your bicep, giving it a gentle squeeze of reassurance before he stepped past you and continued down the hall. You turned, watching him appear smaller and smaller before he eventually turned into a room and disappeared from sight completely. You thought you were going to be sick, broken underneath the weight of the love you were carrying for him. As much as you wanted to chase after him, you knew it was best to let him come to you in his own time. Still, even if you knew it was for the best did not make the fact easy to choke down.

You looked over to your bandmates, noticing that they had been watching the interaction unfold in hopes of discovering the source of your misery. You let out a long sigh, shrugging your shoulders as if to tell them you didn’t know any more than they did. Dylan nodded her head towards her dressing room, silently asking if you wanted to wait with her until it was time to perform. You have a solemn nod, letting her lead the way. When the three of you were together in her dressing room, door closed and locking out any unwanted listeners, she finally felt comfortable enough to pry some information for you. You explained to the two about the events of the day, biting back tears as you spoke. When you made it to the end of your sad story, the shock on their faces was too much to bear. You closed your eyes, leaning your head on the back of the couch while you tried to forget about the sadness that seemed to make permanent home in your head.

“So, how are you going to tell him?” Dylan asked, now at the hands of the stylist who had recently been in your own company.

“Have to get him to talk to me first, don’t you think?”

“No,” her answer was simple.

“How am I supposed to tell someone I love them without talking to them?” You rolled your eyes, sipping on the drink Riley had grabbed for you. A little liquid courage could get you through anything, or that’s what you always thought. This time, it seemed different. The anxiety stemming from your predicament with Jake seemed too large to calm with any sort of substance. You weren’t worried about superficialities, nor surface level scars that would fade into nothing; this was the love of your life, someone who you wanted to spend forever with, and you were terrified you had lost him for good.

“Do you forget that we’re in a band?” Riley asked, looking over at you with a hint of humour in his eye. He was tipsy, but he was just as enthralled in the conversation as Dylan. “We write about our feelings for a living. Sing him a song, dumbass.” You reached over, smacking his arm gently as you both dissolved into a fit of laughter. The more time you spent with the two, the more the dread seemed to float away. It was still lingering, but it seemed much less daunting with them in your company.

“What song should I sing?” You asked, tracing circles into the fabric of your pants to distract yourself from your fear.

“That one’s on you,” Riley said. “I’m not the one confessing my love for him.”

“Maybe you should, I think you two would be awfully cute together.” Dylan teased, hidden behind Rachel as she had her face painted with stage makeup.

“I’ll let her shoot her shot, first. If she fucks up, though…” Riley trailed off, slowly turning his gaze towards you. “You better watch out.” Another chorus of laughter echoed through the room at his words. After the excitement died down, you drifted away into your thoughts, thinking of the best way to express your feelings for him. After a few moments, an idea surfaced in the mess of self-doubt that seemed impossible to pass up.

“I got it.” You announced, a small smile breaking out on your lips. Riley leaned over, giving you a pat on the back as a way to say he was proud of you.

And thus began the longest wait of your entire life.

The minutes seemed to pass with the length of an hour, and the hours felt like eternities. You drank, trying to settle the nerves in yours stomach, and tapped your foot against the floors to rid yourself of the jitters. Riley left the room to allow Dylan to get changed, and eventually Rachel left to tend to his stage outfit. The small talk had between you and your drummer was nearly painful, both of you knowing that you were completely uninvested in any of the topics at hand. You were nearly vibrating by the time Aaron knocked on the dressing room door, bursting at the seams with anticipation of getting on stage. You joined together at the side of the stage, listening to Aaron’s short instructions to ensure the performance would run smoothly.

When he motioned for you to start, you have a nod and a prayer for enough confidence to get through the night. When you appeared in front of the crowd, you were met with cheers and applause, fuelling your ego only enough for you to pick up your guitar. Dylan sat behind her drums, a blinding smile on her lips as she started a slow beat on the kick drum to set the mood. “How’s everyone doing tonight?” Riley asked, met with a cheer of an excitement from the audience. He looked over to you, laughing at the sound.

“We’re Gold Dust Woman, and we’re so excited to spend the evening with you all. Here’s a song we wrote about being drunk…” you said, looking to Riley for a moment “and in love.” You started a familiar riff, one that had been circling around the internet after your first performance of the song. You knew that once the tour finished up, it would be first on the list of songs to record.

The longer you played, the more confident you felt in your own ability. You found yourself intermittently checking over your shoulder, looking to see if the boys were watching you from their usual spot. At first, there was only Josh and Danny observing from the sidelines. Halfway through the set, Sam made an appearance, looking beautiful in his stage clothes and makeup. Your heart ached at the sight, but when he caught your eye and gave you a reassuring smile, you felt on top of the world. The weight lifted from you ever so slightly just by knowing he did not hold any resentment towards you. There was only one more loose end that needed tying, and you had put your entire faith in the idea that Jake would be willing to watch your performance that night.

When you got down to the last three songs, you were tired and dejected, ready to pack up your things and stitch up your wounds. Jake had not yet made an appearance, and you were beginning to believe he would not leave his room until the second he was needed on stage. You couldn’t blame him, but you so desperately wanted to blame someone, which ultimately landed you back in your initial position. All of the self-doubt and insecurities flooded back in, giving your hands a nervous tremor as you played the solo of your second to last song. Riley sang softly over your playing, distracting the crowd from any potential mishaps your fingers may have caused. You finished with a small outro, trying to zone in on your fretboard to avoid any further mistakes. You finished with a smile, happy that you finished at all.

You looked back over your shoulder, knowing that you would be met with another staggering rejection, yet needing to check anyway. Your heart nearly erupted from your chest and your breath caught in your throat. Your head was swimming with adoration as your eyes landed on the fourth body that finally joined the crowd. He caught your gaze, the same intense emotion taking hold of him in an instant. You struggled to break from the state, wishing to stay lost in his eyes for the rest of time. His lips upturned in the corner, not quite smiling at you, but acknowledging that he was invested in you. You managed to shake your head free from the overwhelming fear, looking to Riley in hopes he could communicate with you wordlessly. You nodded your head in his direction, silently asking if you could switch positions. He caught on immediately, making it seem like the interaction was planned all along as he moved towards you.

You gave him a high five as you passed, trying to make the switch as relaxed as possible. “Alright, we’ve got one more song for you tonight, and it’s a very special one to me.” You said, tuning down your top string. “If you know it, sing it with me. I think I might need some help to get through it.” You encouraged, tuning your bottom string. You casted a look back towards Dylan, a hopeful smile on your lips. She gave you a grin with all of the support she could muster in her features. She gave you a drum roll, hiking anticipation until you began playing.

You began the infamous introduction, the first cluster of notes immediately sending a surge of excitement through the room. Dylan joined in, giving you a steady beat, and Riley bit back a smile as he plucked the top string of his bass.

“Listen to the wind blow, watch the sun rise

Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies” Riley sang with you, your voices harmonizing alongside the crowd’s excited voices. You took a step back, playing a small part on the guitar before leading him into the chorus. Before you began, you looked over at the group of boys watching your performance. You caught Jake’s eye, holding him captive as you sang directly to him.

“And if you don’t love me now,

You will never love me again

I can still hear you saying

You would never break the chain” you sang, powerful and with clear intent. Jakes head cocked to the side, his eyebrow raising in disbelief as he watched your blatant display of emotion. You sang the chorus once more before breaking your gaze, focusing on your hands to regain your composure. You could feel the rhythm in your heart, the beat of the drum rattling your bones and the bass pounding in your ears. If you could keep your focus on the music, you could finish the song. You continued repeating it in your head until you believed it.

“Listen to the wind blow, down comes the night

Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies

Break the silence, damn the dark, damn the light” you looked to Riley, allowing him to lead you back into the chorus. He sang alone while you echoed his words back to him. He let you sing the next one, switching roles so he could echo you. You looked back at the side stage, the shine of tears in your eye as you saw the look of anger begin to form on Jake’s face. You continued singing, only stopping so he could play the bass line leading up to the solo. On his second run through, you began picking the bottom strings, speeding your pace the longer you played. You took a step back from the mic, losing yourself to the tune. You let your head fall back, eyes closed as your hands guided you through the process of the solo. When it came time to sing again, you were overcome with a sudden burst of energy.

“Chain keep us together!” You shouted into the microphone, looking to Riley as you did so.

“Running in the shadows!” He sang back, watching you to see when you would start again. You repeated your line, more passion than the last time, and he copied your energy. You grinned, walking over to him before singing again. He stepped to the side, allowing you to join him at his microphone. He faced you, playing at you as you did the same to him.

“Chain keep us together!”

“Running in the shadows!” You sang into the same mic, face to face as you played your instruments. The passion was electric, igniting your heart and your soul as it only increased further. You looked past Riley, catching Jake’s gaze one last time before singing the line once more. Dylan let out a loud bang on the drums, stopping the song entirely and filling the air with silence. After a second, everyone erupted into cheers. Dylan stood behind her drum set, raising her arms in the air in triumph. You looked back at her, laughing at her antics.

“Thank you, and goodnight!” Riley yelled into the microphone. You waved out at the crowd, slipping your strap over your shoulder and handing it off to a sound tech waiting for you just off the stage. You were breathless, barely able to thank the group for their endless compliments on your performance. You were stopped before you could move any further, frozen in your tracks by a body that stepped in front of you. You looked up, meeting Jakes angry eyes while fear settled in your stomach. Both of you were too caught up in the flurry of emotion to care about your surroundings, ignoring Aaron’s warning of the boys 45 minute timer until they got on stage.

Jake reached out, placing a hand on your upper arm as he guided you away from the group and towards your dressing room. He pushed the door shut behind him, looking to you as he waited for an explanation. You were at a loss for words, not expecting your performance to catch his attention so efficiently. “What the fuck was that, y/n?” He asked, his stare burning into you and his tone harsh. You opened your mouth to speak, but couldn’t seem to find anything meaningful to say. “You break up with me, tell me you’re in love with my brother, and then you get up on stage and pull a stunt like that? I have no idea what you want from me. If you want Sam, then have him, but you need to give me some time to get over you!”

“I was wrong!” You blurred out, panic stricken and desperate for him to slow down. “I don’t want you to get over me because I was wrong, Jake!” He paused, completely still as his expression shifted. He was frozen, eyes glossed over with disbelief as he processed your words.

“What?” His voice was quiet now, approaching you with utmost caution as if he was afraid to scare you away.

“I love you, Jake, and I was wrong.” You whispered, taking a step closer to him. “I was so wrong, and I know I can’t take back the pain I’ve already caused, but I can’t let you go. I love you. Three months ago, I loved you. In a year from now, I’ll still love you. When I’m eighty years old and watching the world happen around me from my front porch, I will still be thinking about how much I love you. It’s the type of love that’s forever, and I know that I will never feel this way for anyone else in my entire life. I’m so sorry for not seeing it sooner, and for walking away, or for thinking that there might be something happier for me somewhere else, but it’s just not true. You are everything Jake, and I am certain of that. You wouldn’t listen to me earlier, but I needed to tell you. I couldn’t live with myself if I just let you go.”

He watched you, head tilted to the side slightly as he absorbed your confession. His lips were parted slightly, in awe at the profound nature of your words. As nervous as you were, you couldn’t help but admire him. The beauty that he was surrounded with was indescribable; the way his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to process his thoughts, the glimmer in his eye that gave you a shred of hope, all of it. He was breathtaking, and you couldn’t believe that you had the opportunity to love him at all. You wanted to step forward, to be so close to him that you never had to worry about distance again, but you were afraid. You awaited the invitation, your body yearning to be in his arms and addicted to the memory of his touch.

“I know that this has been hard, and we’ve messed up, but I don’t want to make mistakes with anyone else, Jake. I would be happier struggling with you than I would be if I was comfortable with someone else. I don’t know how to love, or what it really means to love someone so completely and selflessly, but I know that I feel it for you, and god do I know that you feel it for me. I’ve never been so loved in my entire life, and I never want to let it go. You love the parts of me that I thought would always be unlovable. You loved me so much even knowing that you could get hurt, and you loved me even while I was hurting you. I’ve never really been in love like this before, but I know that this is what it’s supposed to be like.” You rambled, confessing every thought that crossed your mind. You hoped that it was enough, because you couldn’t fathom the thought of watching him walk away.

“A-are you sure?” He asked, seeming like he wanted to reach out for you but worried that it might be some kind of sick joke.

“I am more sure than I’ve ever been before.” You whispered, gravitating towards him despite your brain telling you to stop.

“100 percent?” He asked again, also leaning closer as he asked.

“A million percent, Jake.” The pain that was on his face seemed to vanish at your assurance. Without another word, he stepped forward, so close to you that it made your head spin. He grabbed your face in his hands, leaning down and kissing you with every ounce of love he could muster. You flung your arms around his torso, pulling him as close as possible. You wished you could live in the moment of euphoria forever, knowing that nothing in your life could ever top the feeling of loving him freely. He broke away from you, his face still dangerously close to your own. He pressed another soft kiss to your lips as a way of thanking you for coming back, but he had no need to thank you for anything.

You slipped your hands under his suit jacket, desperate to be closer but unsure of how to do it. He laughed at you, your cold hands shocking his warm skin. You looked up at him, hearts dancing in your eyes as you lost yourself in his expression of elation. “You meant everything?” He mumbled, looking over your face and soaking in every detail.

“I will scream it from every rooftop in the world if I have to. If that’s what it takes for you to understand how much you mean to me, I’d do it a hundred times over again.” His eyes were speaking words that only your soul could understand, pulling you in further and making you fall even further in love. “When I left earlier, I just couldn’t shake the feeling that I had made a huge mistake. I came inside to to talk to Sam, and I couldn’t do it. It’s always been you, even if I was too stupid to see it.” You said, feeling choked up just at the thought of leaving him. “I’m so sorry, Jake. I know I can’t take it back but I hope that I can make it up to you with enough time.” He let his thumb drift over your cheek, shaking his head before you even finished speaking.

“No apologies, angel. It doesn’t matter anymore, what matters is that you’re here with me, now.” You smiled, unable to contain your excitement any longer. His lips were still close enough to your own that you could feel him start to smile, too. Without warning, he moved his hands, crouching down slightly and anchoring them on the back of your thighs. In one swift motion, he picked you up off the floor. You let out a shriek of surprise as you wrapped your legs around him and threw your arms around his neck to steady yourself. He laughed at the sound, making sure to hold you tightly so you knew there was no fear of falling. But, as long as you were with Jake, you were well aware that you would never have to fear falling unless it was in love, because he was always waiting to catch you.

“So this is it? We get to be happy, now?” You asked, looking down at him. It was almost too fantastic to be true, but you knew that it had to be, because no dream could make you feel as good as you did in that moment.

“I think so,” He breathed, grinning up at you with the same happiness in his heart. You closed your eyes, overwhelmed by the moment and unable to hold back any emotion trying to push through. A tear rolled down your cheek, which he was quick to spot. “Why are you crying, baby?” He asked, concern thick in his voice. “There’s no need for tears, anymore.”

“I’m just happy,” you said, voice shaking as you spoke. “I’m so happy, Jake. I never thought I could be this happy. I’ve spent my whole life trying to be something more than what I was born with, more than what I was ever given, but all of the work never seemed to make any sense because I still went home feeling the same way. I don’t feel like that, now. For the first time in my life, things feel perfectly right.” And it was true; you had searched forever, always coming out empty handed and wondering if you would ever find the thing you wanted most. Now, it was in front of you, and with a promise of forever. It was almost too much to take, but you were trying your hardest to accept it.

He moved to the couch, sitting down while being cautious of not dropping you. Once you were settled in his lap, he brought a hand to your face and wiped away any fallen tears. “It can be like this forever, y/n.” He whispered, tucking your hair behind your ear. “I promise I will love you as long as you want me to, and long after that. You are my heart and my soul, and everything worthwhile. I want to be everything you need, whenever you need it.”

“You’ve already given me the whole world, Jake.” You said, bringing your hand to his cheek. “You’ve given me more than I ever thought I could have.”

“And I’ll keep giving until I can’t give any more.” He said, drawing you closer to him and resting his head in the crook of your neck. “I’ll give you whatever your heart desires, Gold Dust Woman. All I ever wanted to do was make you happy.”

“Happy doesn’t even come close to what you do for me.” You said, running a hand through his hair. He placed a kiss to the skin on your neck, pulling away only for a second before beginning to move upwards. He kissed a trail to your lips, the final kiss nearly too sweet to break. You held him to you, settling your other hand on his shoulder to support yourself.

It only took a moment for the passion to catch up to you, weeks of being deprived of each other taking its toll and begging you to submit to the temptation. His fingertips ghosting over the exposed skin of your back was enough to drive you to insanity, and the intoxication from his kiss made it impossible to resist him. You gave an involuntary grind of your hips against him, your body’s natural response to the feeling of his touch. He tightened his grip on you as his breath caught in his throat, desperate for anything more than what you were already doing. He pulled you down on him, his erection pressing into your heat and sending a wave of arousal through you. You let out a small whimper into his mouth, sending him feral in an instant. His arms travelled up your body, sneaking under your shirt and begging to pull it off of you.

You parted from him, breathless with stars dancing in your eyes. “Jake, we don’t have time.”

“We have plenty of time,” he assured you, refusing to back down. He could see the worry in your eye, but he was certain in his statement. “Don’t you trust me by now, Gold Dust Woman?” The nickname was like pure ecstasy to you, settling deep in your chest and making home like it had always belonged there.

“Of course I do.” You said, regretful for ever doubting him. You lifted your arms, allowing him to discard your shirt with little care. He brought his mouth to your collarbone, starting softly with kisses as he unhooked your bra with expert precision. He let that fall to the ground, too, not concerned with anything other than getting your clothes off. He brought a hand to your breast, the cold air of the room stinging your skin but the warmth of his touch offsetting the harshness. He let his thumb drift over your nipple, sucking marks into your collarbones as if he was trying to cement the reality of his victory. He moved his mouth downwards, focusing on your other nipple with his tongue.

He was desperate to know you again, like the weeks of separation had made you strangers. If he could, he would have spent the entire night with you in your dressing room, but he knew he had to make quick work in order to finish before he was expected on stage. With the vulgar noises rolling off of your tongue, he knew it would not be difficult to do. You were deprived just the same as he was, just as desperate to be touched and just as eager for an orgasm. He let his teeth sink into your nipple, sending a shiver down your spine and a gasp from your lips. You could feel him smile against you, cockiness returning so quickly that you doubted it ever left. He moved his hands to your hips, prompting you to stand so he could take your pants off, too.

You did as he pleased, allowing him the honour of undoing the button and removing the fabric to reveal what he’d been missing so much. You kicked the pants to the side, leaving yourself almost completely exposed and accessible. He sat on the edge of the couch, practically drooling at the thought of having you wrapped around him again. His eyes raked over your body, his jaw hard set as if he was a predator eyeing its prey. Romantic Jake was long gone, and you were more than okay with that; you loved him, and you were joyous over the knowledge that he was yours and you were his, but you were desperate to be fucked. You would never tell him, knowing that it would only fuel his already strong ego, but he was the only one who could do it right. He settled his hand on your hip, drawing you in and bringing his mouth back to your skin. He admired you only for a moment before turning you around. He let his hand trail over your ass in silent admiration before placing a kiss there, too. Instead of pulling away like you expected, he sunk his teeth into the skin with intent to make you quiver under the touch.

He did just that, the sensation causing you to jump and shy away from the unexpected moment. He let out a chuckle as he pulled away, unapologetic for his actions. He let his finer trail under the band of your underwear, drawing the elastic back slightly and snapping it against your skin. You wanted to complain, to chastise him for the teasing, but you were enjoying it too much to care. You were willing to take anything and everything that he was willing to give. He hooked his fingers through the sides and pulled that fabric away from you too, leaving you fully naked and at his disposal. “Do you know how much I missed seeing you like this?” His voice was low, husky and filled with lust. You thought you might be able to get off on the sound alone. He spun you around again so you were facing him, looking down as you anticipated his next move. “Do you, sweetheart?”

“Yes, sir.” You nodded, feeling his fingers ghosting over your thighs. You shivered under the touch, wondering if he was possessed by his own sexual desire, or if it felt so good solely because of how much you loved him.

“Did you miss me, angel?”

“So badly,” you sighed, watching him with hearts dancing in your eyes. He let out a hum of approval, loving the sound of your shameless desperation. He reached down, placing his hand behind your knee, slow with his touch so he wouldn’t catch you off guard. You allowed him to guide your leg so your foot was resting on the cushion beside his thigh. He leaned forward, dusting kisses over the inside of your thigh, lost in the haze of desire that had quickly filled the room. He brought his hand to your cunt, letting his fingers run through you to get a better understanding of how much you wanted him. His jaw clenched at the pool of arousal, nearly insane from the thought of you being his and his alone. He trailed his finger to your clit, rubbing agonizingly slow circles as he watched your face. He was aching to see the look of pleasure, the one in which your eyebrows knotted together and your lips parted, shamelessly crazy for everything he was doing to you. Sometimes, it kept him alive even more than the most basic of things like food and water.

“Did she miss me, too?” He purred, looking up to you with the far-away smile that let you know he was no longer thinking about conversing with you. Even if you hated to admit it, you had grown to love it so deeply that it made your chest ache when you thought of it for too long.

“Why don’t you find out?” You asked, trying to focus on anything other than his rose tinted cheeks and glossy stare. As much as you wanted to, you knew you would never hold any real power in the bedroom with Jake. Or, perhaps you held all of it, and you would never know the difference.

“Talking back to me, angel?” He asked, adding more pressure with his fingers.

“Never, baby.” You breathed the lie so easily he could almost believe it was the truth. Almost being the keyword, but he missed you too much to punish you, and he didn’t have enough time to do so, anyway.

“Come here,” he muttered, making a move to guide your leg over his shoulder. A whine slipped through your lips before he ever put his mouth on you, deriving pleasure from the idea of his tongue alone. His eyes fluttered up to meet your face before he proceeded any further, amazed by the sound and intrigued by the cause. “You want me that bad, baby?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. Your face tinted red with embarrassment, but he was having none of it. “Don’t be shy, sweetheart. I want to hear all of those filthy fucking noises.” The end of his sentence was resembling a growl; his excitement was nearly unbearable and he was unable to hide it from you.

“Please, Jake. I need you so fucking bad.” You pleaded, your fingers already knotted in his hair with anticipation for his next move. His eyes fluttered closed, the words settling in his soul and already beginning to heal the wounds he’d collected from the days events. He couldn’t wait any longer, too pent up after being without you for so long. He guided your hips forward to meet his mouth, his tongue immediately landing on the sensitive bud he’d been teasing just moments before. In lieu of any formalities, he slipped two fingers inside of you, making it a mission to bring you to a climax as quick as possible.

A sharp moan sounded through the room, making home in the foundation of the walls to leave a permanent reminder of what had happened behind the closed door. His fingers stayed at a steady pace, pumping into you in time with the movement of his tongue. You couldn’t help but tug at his hair, needing more than he could possibly ever give you. At least, you thought it would be impossible to give, but Jake always managed to find a way. Your eyes were screwed shut as you bit down on your tongue, hoping to stay as silent as possible so nobody would know what was happening inside the room. His tongue was still laced with unholy energy, You were certain of it. There was no human that could possibly hold so much power within such simple movements. He was sent from the devil to turn you evil, too, and you didn’t care. Even if he was corrupt, or if the touch was woven with hidden intent, you would succumb to the temptation every time. Jake as an entity was much too powerful to resist, and you would be okay with it even if it was death you were suffering at his hands.

Your breathing was labored, chest heaving in hopes of catching up on the air he was stealing directly from your lungs. A thin layer of sweat had already begun to form on your forehead, your body so willing to give in to him with so little persuasion. It was always like that with Jake; it seemed as though he never even had to try to turn you into a mess because you were willing to do it as soon as he walked into a room. A raspy cry tore through you, already feeling an orgasm creeping up on you. It had been so long that you were surprised it even took him this long to get you there. You thought maybe he was savouring the moment, because Jake had to the ability to make you come undone in seconds. No matter what it was, you couldn’t find the strength to complain about it. You were so grateful for anything he was willing to give you, even if he chose to deny you an orgasm for the entire night.

That strength was not within him, though, and he was just as desperate for your climax as you were. He sped his tongue, matching the pace with his fingers, hoping that with a little encouragement you would come undone right then and there. You swore under your breath, holding his head for support in fear that your legs would give out from under you. He hummed against you, showing his own pleasure from your enjoyment. You felt the knot tightening in your belly, the burn almost too intense to ignore. You wished to drag it out a little longer, but you couldn’t hold back. It was partially due to your need for a release, but mostly because you could not deny him of his wish. He asked so little of you that you felt guilty even thinking of refusing him anything did want.

“Fuck, Jake.” You let out a shaky breath, feeling your muscles tense and your walls clench around his fingers. He did nothing but continue working at you, keeping a steady pace and continuous movement. Your fingers tightened against the strands of his hair, keeping you grounded as the world started to spin. You couldn’t even manage another word before the orgasm washed over you with a ferocious intensity. He tightened his grip on you, making sure you would not stumble and fall to the ground. You managed his name through the waves of pleasure, singing it like a hymn. Jake was the god you prayed to and the devil you feared. He was the angels watching over you and the sins you committed. He was everything and anything all at once, and although it was confusing, it was euphoric to be in the company of someone so magnificent. You hoped that you would never have to see a lifetime without him.

He slowly pulled away from you, making sure you were steady before removing your leg from his shoulder. With a shaky hand, you loosened your grip on his hair and moved it to his shoulder, supporting yourself with his help. “How was that, angel?” He asked, looking up at you. Your orgasm was glistening on his chin, like a trophy of the vulgarity you two had just engaged in.

“It was so good, baby.” You sighed, already recovered and ready for more. He stood, hands never leaving you as he did so. He wasn’t willing to stop touching you because he had spent the entire day believing he would never get the chance again. He guided you towards the chair placed in front of the vanity mirror. He unbuttoned his pants, only pulling them down to his knees before sitting in the chair. He wasn’t a fan of the time crunch, yet he was grateful for it all the same. It allowed him to give in to the temptation of you without needing any further excuses. He was certain that if he had to wait any longer, he might die from the agony alone.

He spit into his hand, stroking himself for a moment before reaching out for you and guiding you towards him. With your back to him and your legs on either side of his, he lined himself up with your entrance. “Waited so long for this, beautiful. You have no idea how many times I thought about having you like this again.” He murmured, lips just hovering over your ear. You took the intiative and lowered yourself onto him, both of you hissing in pleasure at the feeling after going so long without it.

“Just like this?” You asked, slowly gyrating your hips. He let out a hum of agreement, too lost in the pleasure to verbally express his feelings. “Did you touch yourself while you thought of me, Jacob?” You pressed, tone growing more firm the longer you spoke. His eyes snapped open, shocked that such a question had come from your mouth. “Hmm?” There was a fire in his pupil, like you had ignited a part of him he never knew existed.

“I don’t remember you being such a whore,” he said the word so sweetly, like it was far from insulting. But, being a whore for Jake was nowhere near insulting, and you would proudly admit to it any day of the week.

“Maybe you bring out the worst in me.” You hummed, looking forward and into the mirror, watching his face intently as the pleasure began to take over. “You didn’t answer my question, baby.”

“I did,” he groaned, your slow pace pushing him to the brink of insanity. You could feel him throbbing inside of you, desperate for more but willing to take what you were offering just so he could be close to you. “Every fucking night.” His fingers were burning into your hip, brandishing it with marks that would turn purple within minutes. He slipped his hand to the front of you, letting his middle finger find your clit so he could continue his torment. “Did you think of me when you were touching yourself?” He asked, eyes flickering up to your reflection.

“All of the time,” you sighed, leaning your head back to rest on his shoulder. He brought his free hand to your face, grabbing your cheeks between his fingers and forcing you to look back at the mirror.

“Keep watching, angel. Don’t miss all of the fun.” He said, pulling your earlobe between his teeth. You felt a flutter in your stomach, a warning from your body that it was going to explode if he didn’t slow down. “See how pretty you look with my cock inside of you?” Your hips stuttered, thrown off course by the vulgarity of his statement. “Don’t you think so?”

“Y-yes, sir.” You whimpered, weak from the tone of voice he was using. It was filled with power, yet coddling you at the same time. It was intoxicating, and you were a complete fool for him, eager to stay drunk off of it forever.

“Fuck you feel good,” he hissed, turning his head inwards to place a kiss to your neck. “Could fuck you all day.”

“We have the rest of our lives.” You whispered, barely realizing the weight of your words until the movement in his hands stuttered. He smiled against you as if you had given him the most wonderful gift in the world.

“We have the rest of our lives,” he agreed, trailing kisses from your neck to your shoulder. He dropped his hand from your face, bringing it to your breast as he rolled your nipple between his fingers. You arched your back at the feeling, only allowing him to thrust in even deeper as you came back down on him. You let out a whine, the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix in a painful type of pleasure. He sped his fingers, knowing that as much as he wished to keep fucking you all night, he would need to leave soon. He felt you clench around him, your legs shaking as you tried to keep your pace steady. “Are you going to cum for me, sweet girl?” He muttered, eyes flickering up to watch the reflection. “Do you want to cum for me?”

“G-god yes,” you stuttered, holding on to his arm for extra support. He took in a long breath in attempt to calm himself, feeling dangerously close to the edge, too.

“Okay, baby. Want to watch you while you cum on my cock.” He encouraged, gaze focused on your face in the mirror. “Be a good girl for me.” He whispered, speeding his fingers ever so slightly. That was all you needed to come undone, head spinning with no real thoughts as your body vibrated against his hold. Your eyes were squeezed shut, his name stuck on your lips like it was the only thing you knew how to say. His jaw was clenched, knowing that he couldn’t hold on any longer, feral from the noises you were making for him. “That’s it,” he hummed, letting out a groan through gritted teeth.

When you started to relax against him, he took his window of opportunity and brought both of his hands to your hips. He pulled you down on him, forceful and loving all at the same time. You let out a yelp, all of your nerves still tingling with the ghost of pleasure. You leaned forward, grabbing on to the edge of the table to hold yourself steady while he fucked into you. It only took him a few moments to catch up, his orgasm long overdue and just as intense as your own. He spilled into you, muttering curses as he fucked his own release back into you. After a moment, he tapered his movements to a halt. You both sat there together for a moment, breathless and scared to move in fear of ruining the moment.

Eventually, he carefully stood, moving his hand to catch any potential mess as he pulled out of you. You sighed, disappointed at the loss of contact once he was fully parted from you. “Come on, let’s get cleaned up.” He said, motioning his head towards the bathroom.

“Yeah, okay.” You breathed, following after him to erase any evidence of the sinful activities you had engaged in. Once you finished, you searched your room for the clothes you had arrived in that morning, finding them in a pile on the floor. You slipped on the sweatpants and the t-shirt, a smile permanently stuck on your lips as you turned to face him.

“What are you smiling about?” He said, teasing you while knowing he had the same one on his own face.

“You,”

“Me, too.” He said, taking a step towards you. “I love you so much, y/n.” He mumbled, taking your face between his hands.

“I love you, Jake.” You said, wrapping your arms around him to pull him into a hug. He did the same, holding you just as tight.

“So, uh, maybe I should have asked sooner…” he started, pulling back so he could look down at your face. You watched him, wondering what could possibly be floating around in his brain. “Would you… would you like to be my girlfriend, maybe?” You laughed at his nervous stature, feeling a blush spread across your cheeks to match his own.

“I would love nothing more, Jacob.” You giggled, elated at the childish glee that overwhelmed his expression. He leaned down, placing a small kiss on your lips. Just as he did so, a knock sounded on your door. “Showtime,” You chucked.

“Showtime,” he agreed, hesitant to let you go, almost as if he was scared you wouldn’t be here once he got off stage.

“Go, I’ll be waiting for you right here when you’re done.” You said, urging him to listen to Aaron’s instruction. He nodded, leaning down and placing another short-lived kiss on your lips.

“Okay,” he sighed, moving away and towards the door. Just as he opened it, he looked back at you for a moment. “Thank you for sharing your secrets with me, Gold Dust Woman. They were far better than I ever imagined.” You laughed at his words, feeling the happy tears begging to make another appearance.

“It was a pleasure sharing them with you, Jake. Now go on, you’re going to do great tonight.” You shooed him away.

“I love you.”

“I love you.” You replied, blowing him a kiss. His eyes sparkled with adoration as he reached out, pretending to catch it. He then proceeded to pretend to shove it in his pocket before turning away.

“That’s my good luck charm.” He said, but he was gone before you could reply.

Slowly, you made your way towards the door and out into the hallway. Dylan was sitting on the side stage, looking back at your room with a hopeful expression. You gave her a nod and a thumbs up, barely able to contain your glee. She grinned, ecstatic at the news and already wanting to know all about it. You approached her, standing by her side as you looked out at the stage. She was caught up in Danny, who was sitting eagerly behind his drums, and you were caught up in Jake, who was already strumming away at his guitar. Even Sam, who was across the stage, had a smile on his face, knowing that he would be alright. The world seemed okay, and that was something you were eternally grateful for. You never pictured things turning out so perfectly, but even the most brutal of storms left a rainbow shining brightly in the sky.

You wrapped an arm around Dylan, your chest finally free from the aching pain that had been ravishing it for weeks. As you watched Jake, you knew that there was no doubt in your decision to love him. There was something eternal about the two of you, like when the oceans meet the rivers, and when the river meets the sand, leading you all across the earth until you find water once more. It was similar to how the day turned into dusk, only for the midnight skies to turn blue once again. An endless cycle that was the only permanent comfort in life. You could love Jake in every lifetime and never grow tired of it, and at the very end, you would still feel like you could love him even more than you already had. You would share every secret and untold story, and hope to make every memory and experience with him as beautiful as humanly possible. He was your lesson, the one you had been dreading for so long, but you were so grateful that you opened your mind for long enough to learn it.

He was your forever, and you were his Gold Dust Woman, just like it was always meant to be.

GOLD DUST WOMAN

TAGLIST: @itsdannysworld @gretavansara @jaketlove @laneygvf @freefallthoughts @psychedelicsprinkles @idontwannabeherenow @joshysgirl @sanguinebats @objectsinspvce @klarxtr @sinarainbows @jakesmustache @gvfpal @hellowgoodbye @profitofthedune

[sciderman]

hey sci.how do you get wades personality to a T! I desperately wanna make a comic but I’m worried I’ll fall short to his character.Any Tips?

oh bless you! i don't think there's any sort of guide to getting wade's character right - all the canon writers write him so, so differently - he really is the sort of character that can be anything the author needs him to be (for better or for worse)

i know i've received complaints over the years about how i portray wade - sometimes people think i make him too emotional, or what-have-you, but i think the biggest crime anyone can commit when writing wade is him not being funny. (i know, that's so, so subjective.) i think when wade falls short for me in the comics or in any characterisation it's usually down to me just not finding the jokes funny! i can kind of forgive anything at all, as long as it's funny.

i've seen a lot of more serious depictions of wade in fanfiction and it kind of throws me for a loop - he's a showman. he'll always be cracking a joke, and if he isn't, you're in trouble.

i think something i'm kind of obsessed with when writing wade is the intentionality behind his words and actions - he's kind of a master of deflection. i think i do love to see a hyper-competent wade, who only plays the part of the idiot because it's what the audience likes to see. he's never stupid, he's just unlucky. when things go wrong for him, it's not due to stupidity - it's either self-sabotage, or he's a victim of the narrative. i think that's where my depiction of wade differs from daddy nicieza's - i think daddy nicieza's wade is big stupid, most of the time.

himbo rights.

but even then, his wade isn't as big of an idiot as he acts. and a lot of it is an act. he's putting on a show. i love a wade wilson who's actually so much more intelligent than he lets show. a wade wilson who's perpetually holding all his cards to his chest because he doesn't want anyone to be able to pin him down or predict him.

all his cards. on terms of capability, and also his emotions. he's so calculated about what other people get to see of him, particularly when he's wearing the mask. (when he's out of the mask he has decidedly less control over what people see of him.)

i think there's a few things that turn me off from a deadpool characterisation - mostly when i see a wade that's too sugary (i think that's why i can't care very much for the most recent deadpool series) - wade always has demons to overcome. always. being heroic isn't something that comes naturally to him. it isn't something that comes naturally to anyone, but at least wade's honest about it.

i like to see a wade that's a jerk. because he is. he's always been. it's like, his first ever personality trait. he is a jerk. a selfish jerk. please, oh please god, do not forget that he's a selfish jerk. i really love portrayals of him that don't shy away from that, but make him endearing anyway. you really don't have to erase all the bad parts of a character to make them likeable. you really, really don't. those bad parts are the tasty bits. makes me keep coming back for more.

when i see a wade that is not a selfish jerk i am like "wha. whuh. who is that. that's not wade. that's not my son. why is he not spitting in my eye right now."

i kind of have to hate him just a little. that's like, the whole point. you're meant to love and hate wade simultaneously, all the time. anyone who loves wade knows this wholeheartedly. to love him is to hate him.

second to that, please don't ever make wade wilson a sexual predator. that's a real problem (hate that).

[highladyluck]

AU thought: Nynaeve is born in Seanchan and raised from childhood as a damane

Immediate first thought (besides ‘why did you choose violence’) is that she’d probably be the best, still. She’s making it onto Tuon’s entourage. I am in pain thinking about it.

This is my AU, so I’m going to solve a personal mystery and say that her dad is Ajimbura & she’s from the Kaensada Hills. Let’s say her mom still died early from illness & dad still taught her how to hunt & track before she was tested. In fact, Ajimbura treated Nyneave as his son because he had seen her channeling at an unusually early age & was hoping declaring her his son could protect her from being made damane.

The Kaensada Hills are rural and unassimilated enough that this was not quite as useless an idea as it might seem, and let’s say they also had very functional ideas of gender roles- if someone does Man Things, they are A Man for all intents and purposes, or vice versa.

Spoiler: It doesn’t work, the sul’dam do eventually get around to testing even there and if there’s a saidar channeler, they’re gonna grab her. Nyneave becomes damane around 13. She still has that Talent for Healing, but because most Seanchan don’t want a damane working on them in that way, she’s only allowed to practice on other damane. It’s a Talent and not something that can be taught very well, which also dampens people’s enthusiasm about it since it’s not super replicable.

She’s still ridiculously powerful even with this somewhat problematic skill, though, and so she sees a lot of use in combat situations. Nyneave comes to Tuon’s attention when Nyneave’s sul’dam makes a judgement call & lets her bring one of Tuon’s favorite damane back from the brink of death after a combat injury. Tuon’s like ‘mine now’ and Nyneave joins the favorites squad.

Nyneave’s been with Tuon for ~6 years by the WH timeline. Once Ajimbura finds out where she is (since she’s higher-profile now that she’s with Tuon), he’s like ‘I must kill the Daughter of the Nine Moons’s father to avenge the loss of my son’ but her father is dead already (of ‘a bad wager’ in this timeline too) so he decides that as male captain of her bodyguard, Furyk Karede stands in loco parentis to Tuon, and therefore he must be killed.

After 3 failed revenge murder attempts, by the custom of his people, the debt rebounds upon Ajimbura and now he must become like Furyk Karede’s son and follow his trade.

This is the mechanism that Ajimbura’s people, distant descendants of the AoL Aiel, devised to stop blood feuds. If you try to revenge murder the same person three times & you can’t hack it, you have to join your enemy’s family instead and act in their interests. Most people don’t want to take that risk, or pick easier-to-kill enemies, so there’s a lot of trophy-hunting instead, kind of like how the Aiel have implemented complex prisoner of war rules so less people die.

So that’s why Ajimbura is Karede’s unhinged manservant in THIS universe. Still wish I knew why he’s there in canon!

Because I do not want Nyneave to suffer unduly, let’s say she comes with Tuon instead of Mylen (whose battlefield-medicine-descended-Healing is less impressive when compared to Nyneave’s Talent). Nyneave also represents Seanchan supremacy in a homegrown ‘we’re better than you’ way rather than a ‘we’ll brainwash you all’ way. Slightly different message, similar outcome.

She gets captured by our heroes at some point & basically has some of Alivia’s arc after that, but because she worked with Tuon and has insider info on her, she’s got more to do in Rand’s inner circle than just make people uncomfortable & lay out his outfit for the rest of his life. Actually, you know what, let’s full-circle this, the former Wisdom of Emond’s Field is Alivia Al’Meara & she’s the one who makes the call to uncollar Nyneave when she asks for it.

Also, Nyneave becomes friends with Aviendha because Avi meets her once and is like ‘forgive me but you’re the spitting image of my second-sister’s first-daughter’ (or whatever) and then they figure out that the Kaensada Hills tribes are also descended from AoL Aiel, and this connection becomes very important later on when the Kaensada Hills tribes strike out for independence in the aftermath of the entire Imperial family being murdered & the civil wars in mainland Seanchan.

[vivaciouscynner]

When She Stopped Picking Scabs

by VivaciousCynner

"Okay."

"Okay?" This was new. Adora was suspicious. Any moment now Catra would call her an idiot. Any moment. She narrowed her eyes at Catra and waited for that nonplussed expression to change. Something where her eyes would round their sockets and spit-laugh an insult.

They sat on the edge of the bed together. An invite to a party rested in Catra's hands. The torn envelope, with royal seal, rested in Adora's.

"I'm serious," she said, "I'm 40 and I need to forgive myself like you said," she sighed because Adora instantly started squirming with contained excitement, "Adora!"

"I'm sorry, go ahead," and yet she still held a toothy smile while she listened. The kind that said I'm trying to be patient but not really.

She grumbled another sigh. "I'm 40. It's not fair to you that I keep punishing myself when we can enjoy things together. So..., let's enjo- Adora! Why are you crying!? It wasn't even that deep!"

Adora leap-hugged her wife. Arms wrapped around brown-gray hair, still unbrushed, as she pinned Catra to the bed. "I'm not crying," she sniffled, "I've just been waiting for this."

She groaned a little to the tight hug, "I know." They were silent a moment and then Catra gave her a peck on the cheek. "Come on, we should get ready."

Adora vibrated with excitement, hand-sprung off Catra, and dashed to the closet giggling. And then she yelled, "Catra!" "What? Wha- What's wrong?"

She poked her ahead around the door frame out of the closet with calm demeanor, "What should I wear? Should I go suit this time? Pants and shirt? Dress? Shorts?" Then she looked at Catra suggestively, "Skirt?" Suggesting what was a question of its own.

Catra flopped backwards into her pillows and let out an irritated groan, "This was a mistake."

"Catra!"

"Okay! It's not a mistake but tone it down a notch, I'm just a year older. It's not that important."

Adora relaxed her shoulders a little and made her way to the edge of the bed. She sat somewhat in front of her. "Catra, you turning 40 or a million-"

"That's a bit much."

Adora dismissed without skipping a beat, "-isn't important. It's you. It's not that you made it to some number. It's the day. Today would be less good without you. It's celebrating you."

"But I'm-"

"Forgiven. Loved. APPRECIATED! And I don't want to hear an adjective any different, okay?" Adora stared at her and waited for some form of an agreement. Catra grunted. That was enough she supposed.

That evening, they rode up to the Castle Bright Moon on Swift Wind, albeit slowly. Catra made sure they wouldn't fly. The last thing she needed was to vomit on her clothes just as they arrive.

Swifty was panting heavily to the tiresome, uphill stride to the castle. Who knew that flying took a lot less energy than walking? His front knees buckled suddenly forcing Adora and Catra to lean back hard to compensate for the imbalance. As Adora leaned forward slowly to check on him, he shot he head up and very nearly bashed Adora's head in. He shouted a big, "WOO! I DON'T KNOW HOW I DID THIS BEFORE I HAD WINGS! This is just AWFUL, Adora!" He shared a few more complaints before allowing them off his back.

Catra took an irritated slow breath in, straightened her clothes, and smoothed her lightly bristled tail outside the palace doors. Her nose flared a moment, "Oh good, I sure am glad I smell like a musty fowl."

"Hey, this wouldn't have been a problem if you let me fly. It's not my fault you have the tummy resistance of a small child who ate too much ice cream." He gasped for air, "WOO! I'm uh, just gonna take a breather over here, you guys go on ahead." He then slumped to the ground and muttered, "Please stop looking at me."

Catra snorted, "Alright, don't have to tell me twice." She received a jab from her dear wife. "Uh, fine. Thank you for the ride."

Good enough, Adora thought. It was Catra's birthday after all. And as Catra headed to the door dressed in black slacks and a light-gray blazer, patterned with branches of gold around the collar which seemed to travel down and line the seams of her pockets and the edges of the garment, Adora took a short moment to check on Swifty and affirm he wasn't about to keel over. With a pat and glow that washed over Swift Wind's head, Adora parted with a nod.

When Adora caught up with Catra before entering, Catra shook her head at her. "He's not taking care of himself. You gotta stop magic-ing him better all the time."

"Pff, it's fine. He's fine. Also, I have something to tell you." A raised brow and an encouraging jostle of Catra's head later: "I forgot to tell Glimmer we're coming." She faced the door and continued to walk into the palace.

And while Catra watched her wife, dressed in that black, knee-high and pleated skirt that delicately cinched a waist - and the red halter that exposed the still very toned muscles of her shoulders - she shook her head and lightly admonished Adora under her breath.

As they entered the halls lined with royal guards who stood with quiet rigidness, Catra stayed close to Adora as they headed to the ball room. Hip to hip and tail that brushed against Adora's thigh.

Adora turned to Catra, "Ready?"

Catra's jaw shifted a little. Uneasy. "i think you know the answer to that." Adora kissed her temple, it'll be fine. Remember, they are literally celebrating you.

Catra breathed a slow sigh, "I guess."

[anthroparis]

“and as alejandro has aged and gotten slightly better due to gwens influence (will elaborate if asked)”

hello! i am asking ^-^

starting this bit by reminding everyone that I like aleheather a LOT. like even back when it was not as popular on tdblr (the crime of having a woman get in the way of a yaoi ship is very dire in this fandom) and I'm sooo excited to see people being normal about them again.

anyway, one of the reasons I think alejandro originally fell for heather is because she could understand him. alejandro is a very lonely character. he's always putting on different personas to get by, he has a poor relationship with most of his family, and he's been outcasted by many of the people in his life. so, when he saw everyone hating heather, along with her obvious intelligence and skill, he saw an opportunity for a normal relationship. they are very precious to me

but, in my vision, they wouldn't really last long term. ultimately, I think it'd be heather who needs something different and alejandro would at some point figure out that there was just this gap between them that they couldn't bridge, no matter what angle he looked at it from

okay now gwen. I shouldn't even have to explain why she and alejandro would be a really good pair, they literally called her new heather for multiple seasons. she was loved, admired even, and then became wildly hated for doing something that was actually really alejandro-core when you think about it.

in all-stars, you can see that she's kind of a wreck. I actually don't hate her character derailment here because if I got called a bad person by everyone around me multiple times on international television, I'd be begging for forgiveness too. I really relate to gwen as a character. also sorry gwourtney stans but I really don't think gwen cared about courtney as much as courtney did about gwen. gothy was just acting impulsively and pretty pathetically to undo the damage she caused, again out of her internal fear of being bad. courtney was gay for her for sure but I don't think gwen ever reciprocated that. gwen likes women I just don't think she'd like courtney

anyway. alejandro is someone who embraces being shitty. I think if they did team up during all-stars, he would convince gwen to let go of her guilt and her past mistakes and embrace the present. if she can't beat them, join them. so she has a little villain arc and gets to come to terms with her morality in a much less sad way.

but likewise, I think her fear of being bad and her genuine attitude would do something in alejandro's head. cause gwen right now, and even in the past, has always been an outcast. but unlike heather, she embraces it. she doesn't need to be worshipped, she actually wants to be left alone. this is a funny mentality to alejandro, who's been making up for the abuse he's suffered by getting extra attention from others for his whole life. he's been putting up this facade of perfection and charm and it makes him kinda miserable, and it drives him to want to be understood.

and then gwen is just. you know. she's kinda gross. she uses paint for her lips and does her hair with spit. she doesn't fear being mean when she has to. and when she wants something, she gets it through a straightforward route, and not through deception. this is really interesting to him.

and I think as he continued to coach her through all-stars, they'd learn more about each other and realize they're very similar. they both probably like weird foreign arthouse movies, art history, weird literature, like they'd have a lot to talk about. and as time goes on he kinda realizes that what was missing with heather, and what gwen has, is the ability to see him for exactly how he is. not the charming, cunning villain, but a kinda lame guy who's just really pretentious. I think gwen can do that with people. just look at them and see through whatever front they're putting up. that's why she hated cody from the start, and liked duncan- didn't matter than one was externally nice, she knew he had bad intentions. didn't matter that one sucked on the outside, she knew he was alright and just acting out for attention deep down. like she knows things that other characters don't always pick up on, so I don't doubt she could do that to alejandro. probably why in canon she never fell for any of his manipulation (I don't count the eyes scene, that was just her having a moment)

anyway, I think this would eventually lead to alejandro feeling safe enough to open up a little more, and she would do the same in return. I think being able to just talk to each other as people would be mutually beneficial and they'd end up a little better because of each other

[littlemisspascal]

The Infinity Cube Part 15

Main Pairing: Marcus Pike x Female Reader

Chapter Pairing: Maxwell Lord x Female Reader

Word Count: 2400+

Series Summary:  When you play with a strange cube, you’re transported out of your current reality with your boyfriend Marcus into brand new ones starring alternate versions of your boyfriend who look and act entirely different every time. With each encounter, you start to wonder if you’ll ever make it back to your real universe?

Warnings for the chapter: Language, Angst, Religious elements, Major plot development, Injuries, First time writing Maxwell so forgive me if he’s more than a little OOC, No beta all mistakes are my own

Author Note: Thank you everybody for your kind support of this fic! I appreciate every like, comment, and reblog 💝 

PART 1 / PART 14 / PART 16

You’re alone when you arrive in the next universe, sitting on a leather couch with faux leopard pelts draped over its back.  Outside is pitch black, not even the barest hint of the moon in the sky, but a lamp to your right produces just enough light for you to piece together you’re in somebody’s office. 

It could actually be your own office, you suppose, but the pottery and ancient-looking relics cluttering the bookshelves don’t spark any feelings of ownership or recognition. Instead, there’s an uncomfortable pit growing in your stomach the longer you stare at them, a kind of dreadful resignation stemming from many lost arguments you can’t remember. 

You don’t want to remember them either. With this being your twelfth universe, you’re well-aware of the grim fact the longer you spend time in a universe the more memories you absorb. And the more memories you absorb, the less you’re inclined to want to leave. 

So, maybe the trick to solving the cube is to firmly cut off the head of your curiosity and leave immediately. It’s a hastily strewn together plan, you’ll admit, but a plan is a hell of a lot better than no plan at all.

You look down at your hands in your lap clasping the golden cube. Here is a perfect place to try, you think, because there’s no Brown Eyes begging you to stay, no nickname for you to identify with. 

“It’s like I was never here at all,” you murmur while tightening your fingers around the cube’s edge. 

You pull. 

Nothing happens.

…What?

“Oh, shit.” Your heart goes still in your chest when a second attempt yields the same failed results, fingers aching from the effort. “No, no, no. C’mon, don’t you dare do this to me. Don’t. You. Fucking. Dare.”

The cube doesn’t yield to your aggression, internal mechanisms frozen solid no matter which way you attempt to twist the sides. 

“You fucking piece of–” The rest of the curse tears itself out of your throat in an incomprehensible growl of rage, as much infused with fury as it was despair. After everything you’ve been through, the cube still manages to find new ways to torment you.

And then it starts vibrating in your hands like one of those cheap mini massagers you’ve seen when checking out at the grocery store. Except the cube doesn’t come with an off button to make the vibrations stop. You inhale a sharp breath, nearly choking on your spit, and struggle to maintain a solid grip, feeling like your bones are rattling from the intensity. What the hell is going on?

Two very distinct things happen simultaneously.

A man bursts into the room dressed in a fancy black suit and golden bowtie, breathless and visibly brimming with excitement, a yellow spired gemstone clutched possessively by both hands.

The cube ceases its trembling.

You glance down at it, lips parting and eyebrows shooting up towards your hairline. Huh?

“Petal, you came,” Maxwell greets you with a wide, slightly manic-looking grin, brown eyes shining in the lamplight. Strands of his honey blond hair are falling over his forehead and your lips twitch with the urge to frown, preferring his natural dark brown coloring over the dye job. 

That pit is back in your stomach again. Your eyes fall on the miniature oil drilling rig replica on his desk, then the map of the United States positioned on a nearby easel with at least a dozen rigs pinned across the country, and finally drift back to the stone. 

“I’ve finally got it,” Maxwell says, noticing your line of sight. He strokes the side of one of the spires with his finger almost reverently. “The solution to all our problems.”

You stand up, cube held loosely at your side, and slowly close the distance to get a closer look at Maxwell’s so-called ‘solution’.  There’s something about Maxwell that unsettles you–maybe it’s his pearly white bleached teeth or the pile of overdue bills you glimpse out of the corner of your eye half-hidden on his desk beneath sketches of an ancient treasure identical to the one he holds. But still, without any way to leave just yet, you indulge in the whims of the universe and gently take the stone from him.

It fits solidly in the palm of your hand, yet it’s surprisingly lightweight. The yellow coloring isn’t as pretty up close, verging on a muddy brownish-orange shade and almost entirely transparent. Citrine, the name of the gemstone comes to mind–except, no, that’s not quite right. That’s the type of gemstone, but it’s not its name. 

“You found the D-Dreamstone,” you stutter over the word. But why? Why does the name send a shudder down your spine? In your other hand, the cube quivers, forcing your grip to tighten.

Maxwell cups your hand and the Dreamstone with his larger ones, mouth still grinning, looking you right in the eyes. “With one wish, we can have everything we want. Everything we deserve.”

Memories click and shift in your mind, filling in gaps, taking up space, a flood busting through a poorly constructed dam. You realize then with startling clarity the reason behind your tumultuous emotions. The Dreamstone has been the subject of Maxwell’s desire for years, invading his brain and poisoning it with ideas of grandeur and infinite power. It’s also been the subject of too many arguments to count between you and him. 

From the moment you met him in college, Maxwell has sought to be a man you would love and be proud of. He turned himself into a chameleon, blending in with the rich and famous by changing every aspect of his identity, convincing them to lend him money to invest in oil fields. And if you hadn’t known who he was before–sweet, soft-spoken Maxwell Lorenzano who brought you a bouquet of dandelions on your first date telling you he’d make your every wish come true–maybe you would have fallen for the lies he spun.

The thing about lies though, is no matter how pretty they look, all it takes is the tiniest bit of pressure to make them fall apart.

This past year hasn’t been easy. Maxwell tried to keep you from noticing the life you share with him is crumbling, but you’ve always been able to see through his facades. 

The oil fields are bone dry. Black Gold Cooperative is days away from total bankruptcy. Those who once loved Maxwell’s charismatic television personality are now calling him a con man.

Finding the Dreamstone swiftly changed from one of Maxwell’s deepest desires to his source of salvation. “One wish,” he’d tell you over and over again, his sole defense brought up during every argument, “and I can fix everything. I can make you proud of me.”

You never could get it through his thick, stubborn head he didn’t need to perform impressive acts or become a millionaire to make you proud of him. You love him for his heart, not his social standing.

“Are you sure it’s real, Brown Eyes?” you ask, nervously licking your lips. “That this thing actually grants wishes?”

His smile slips, as if he’s hurt you doubt him, but he recovers it in the next second, nodding his head earnestly. “Anything you want, petal. Go on, ask for it.”

Anything you wanted? Your breath hitches, thinking of the possibilities. World peace, immortality, the pony you were promised as a child and never got. All these are things both you and Petal want, but deep down beyond your alternate self’s encroaching essence there’s really only one thing you know with absolute certainty you truly need. 

It feels dangerous to hope, especially after your recent plan died before even taking off the ground, and yet you still find yourself looking down at the cube. Still find yourself thinking. Plotting. Your future suddenly doesn’t look as bleak as it did mere minutes ago.

This is your chance to outsmart it, you realize. A precious opportunity you can’t afford to waste. 

But if you rush this, if you don’t word your wish exactly right and the cube remains broken, you’ll be stuck here and forced to merge. You’ll be completely and utterly fucked.

 The pressure is near suffocating, squeezing like a fist around your heart. 

“I wish,” your voice cracks, emotion swelling in your throat. You swallow and find strength in squeezing both objects in your hands, determination burning in your chest. “I wish for the Infinity Cube to be solved.”

An icy draft of air washes over you, as if a window had been left open somewhere in the building, threatening to freeze you solid except for the unexpected burst of heat erupting from the cube.

It’s hotter than hellfire, but the tender flesh of your hand doesn’t burn, doesn’t even hurt at all. Blood roaring in your ears, you can only watch the symbols on the cube start glowing one by one until every side is emitting beams of white light. 

The draft of wind increases in intensity, trashing the office with its untamed power, documents flying through the air and Maxwell’s artifacts shattering against the floor. 

In your other hand, the Dreamstone disintegrates into a pile of dust, slipping through your fingers and blown away by the wind. 

“What have you done?!” Maxwell shouts, holding onto his desk and fighting against the wind to remain standing. He’s glaring at you through squinted eyes, grin replaced with a snarl of rage. “You’ve ruined everything!”

You can only shake your head, chest heaving, because he’s wrong. You haven’t ruined everything. 

You’ve solved everything. 

Elated by your triumph, you don’t even feel the cube begin vibrating again until it’s too late.

In the next breath, an invisible shockwave sends you hurtling backwards against the wall, skull connecting with a sickening cracking noise. Falling onto the couch, you taste blood in your mouth, a distinctive coppery taste that makes you want to gag but you feel too weak to move, vision an incomprehensible haze.

You have no idea what happened to the cube, or Maxwell either, but the wind’s stopped at least. A tiny win worth appreciating. Closing your eyes, you spare a moment to take stock of the aches and pains of your body, but nothing seems broken or life-threatening like your brief venture with Pero all those trips ago. Thank God for the invention of couches.

“Hey, quit playing possum,” a voice says, followed by a brusque nudge against your arm. “You’re not dying yet, Specs.” 

…Specs? 

Still lying in an awkward heap on the couch, your eyelids flutter open and blink several times, bringing everything into focus, including Marcus crouching in front of you.

“Marcus,” you whisper weakly, exhaustion weighing heavily on your sore muscles. “You’re here.”

Your boyfriend says nothing, just staring back at you with unblinking black eyes lacking warmth and emotion. 

A sense of wrongness prickles at your skin. 

“Your eyes…” A shiver wracks your body, the temperature dropping abruptly, and you distantly wonder if this is what shock feels like. If it’s the reason why your head feels stuffed with cotton. “You’re not Marcus.”

“Clever girl,” the doppelgänger says, and his voice is a near match to Marcus’ soft cadence, but not a precise one. You tense, uncomfortably aware of your vulnerable state, but he doesn’t make a move to attack. Just smirks like a cat who caught a canary in its claws. “I must admit I didn’t predict our paths ever crossing, but I’m pleased they did. You’re a beautiful girl up close.”

“Who are you?” you ask, pushing yourself up on trembling arms. You bite back a wince at the pain that flares down your backside and scoot sideways along the cushions until there’s another foot of space separating you from him.

“Oh, I have many names,” he replies with a shrug, seemingly indifferent to your movement. He stands up, ticking names off on his fingers. “The Prince of Darkness. The Serpent. Mephistopheles. Lucifer. Mostly I just go by the Devil.”

The reveal hits you like a punch. Holy shit.

“The Devil,” you echo, feeling like you’re about to throw up.

“That’s right.” He nods, only to then frown when he catches sight of your stunned expression. “What, you seriously didn’t see that coming? Is it because I look like your old boyfriend?” Glancing down at his attire, his frown worsens. “Yeah, I’m not really feeling this cinnamon-roll-slash-federal-agent look either. Let’s try a different universe’s model.”

With a snap of his fingers, his whole appearance changes. 

When your brain catches up with the situation, you can’t stop yourself from blurting out, “What the fuck?” 

Instead of a suit and tie, the Devil is wearing ripped jeans and a black trench coat two sizes too big for his new, leaner frame. His ears are pierced with five different types of earrings, one on the left a dangling silver star you have to forcibly drag your gaze away from staring at. Once brown curls are now dyed raven black to complete the transformation.

“This is Dio. Another one of your precious Brown Eyes despite what these might suggest,” the Devil gestures lazily towards his black eyes with a hand adorned with rings on each finger. “It’s not a bad name. In fact, you should just go ahead and use that for our chat. Probably easier for your nervous stomach to handle.”

You hate how your nausea seems to settle then, as if his words were the permission your internal organs needed to calm down. “Our chat?”

“Perhaps I was wrong calling you a clever girl,” Dio replies, and his voice is a low timbre now, smooth as a serpent slithering unseen through the grass. “Did you really think I’d come all this way and skip out on talking to you about my greatest invention?” He chuckles, kicking at a piece of debris with his boot and you know even before he stoops down that he’s reaching for the cube. It looks small and lackluster in his grasp when he turns around. You’re unsure whether to feel relieved or disappointed none of the symbols are glowing anymore.

“I already know all about the cube,” you retort snappishly. If Dio wanted to kill you, he would have done so already. He’s come to gloat and you’re not in the mood to hear it.

“Oh?” He arches an eyebrow, but the glint in his black eyes suggests his surprise is merely theatrical.

“The thief told me.”

“The thief told you,” Dio repeats, smirking a little. “I see. Did he tell you he tried to steal from me?”

“Yes.”

“And that his heart is trapped inside?”

“Yes.”

His smirk widens. “And did he tell you I want you to solve the cube, Specs?”

Your mouth opens, then slams shut again with an audible noise.

No. The thief hadn’t told you that at all.

“So, it seems like I was right.” Dio steps closer, looking too smug for your liking. “You and I need to have a chat.”

[diaphragmjellyfish]

Research

Finally wrote something again! Sorry it took so long. 

How exactly do you get a dog to lose your scent? Because avoiding your werewolf boyfriend Embry was proving a lot harder than you had anticipated. Last weekend was… eventful. You guys had finally done it. Gone all the way. After 6 months of dating and an imprint bond, you both finally decided you were ready to take that next step. And you’ve only had one thought since that night. 

That shit hurted. 

It was borderline unbearable. The pain was searing. You lied there until Embry was done, faking moans and even faking the Big O, and you were less than eager to do it again. Were you broken? He seemed to enjoy it, so obviously you were to blame. He’d been super clingy and lovey since that night, even more so than usual, and you didn’t have the heart to be around him knowing you had faked it like that. What if he found out? He’d be crushed. What if he wanted to do it again? You couldn’t take that pain another night. What if he faked it too and was going to break up with you the next time he saw you? Yeah, no. Avoidance was the way to go. 

He wanted to take you out to see a movie. You mysteriously came down with a case of allergies in the middle of winter. 

He wanted to pick you up after school and give you a ride home. You had the sudden urge to join a club that was meeting after school that day. 

He called, your phone was on silent. 

He texted, you suddenly became illiterate. 

But he kept trying. God, why was he making this so difficult?! Thoughts like this swirled through your head as you walked the long way home from school. He knew your usual route, so obviously that was out of the question. You took a path through the woods that would eventually spit you out right by the beach where you could sit and think. The forest had always felt like a second home to you. Peaceful, comfortable, private. You walked for some time before hearing twigs snapping in the distance. Probably a rabbit or something. Louder snapping. Bigger sticks. Definitely not a rabbit. You halted, waiting for the creature to pass, when a large gray wolf stalked out of the trees. 

Damn. 

He was wearing the softest, cutest, most “kicked puppy” look on his face that you had ever seen. Head bowed, he walked up to you slowly, whining. So he had noticed your avoidance. You held your hand out to him, petting the thick fur between his ears. He sniffed your hand, giving it a soft lick. 

“Hi,” you whispered. He whined louder at this. “Embry…” you started, before he crouched down, a silent cue for you to get on his back. He waited. 

Guess this was inevitable. And at least him showing up in wolf form gave you some time to think about how exactly you would explain what had happened. With another soft sigh, you climbed up on his back, holding the fur tightly as he trotted off into the trees. After about 5 minutes, you realized that he was taking you to Sam and Emily’s house. You weren’t in the mood to be around the rest of the pack right now. 

“Embry, I’m kind of busy today. I don’t really have time to hang out with the pack.” 

He ignored you, trotting along as if your statement was the buzz of a mosquito in his ear. When you reached the house, however, you quickly realized that no one else was there. They must all be out. It was a Friday afternoon, after all. 

When you reached the lawn, Embry stopped and crouched once more so you could dismount. When you did, he ran off behind the house, walking back out several minutes later as the inky-haired boy you had grown to love. His face was full of sadness, yours full of anxiety. 

“Let’s go for a walk,” he said. 

You silently followed him down the path that led to the cliffs, waiting for him to say something else. He never did, only kept walking. You struggled to keep up, but were too stubborn in your silence to ask him to slow down. You both finally reached the rocky cliffs jutting out over the frigid ocean. He stopped, staring out at the horizon. You paused next to him, waiting. After another several minutes of silence, you grew impatient. 

“It’s supposed to snow Monday,” you said. 

You waited. Silence. 

“The news said they might even cancel school.” 

A pause. Nothing. 

“I don’t know about you, but I could definitely use a three day weeken-”

“Is there something you want to tell me?” he cut you off, seeming agitated. For as long as you’d known Embry, he was never in a bad mood. Never anything but happy. Maybe sad on a few occasions, but never angry. Never frustrated. And it was making you nervous. 

And now it was your turn to be silent. Yes! You wanted to say. You hurt me! But you couldn’t. Wouldn’t. He didn’t do it on purpose, so why would you make him feel guilty about something that was your problem and your problem alone? 

“Because, if I’m counting correctly, it’s been 5 days since I’ve so much as heard from you. Barely a text back. Not a call, not a ‘hey! I’m super busy this week.’ Why are you avoiding me? I thought… after last weekend, we should be more in love than ever right?! Did it not mean anything to you?” 

You remained quiet, tears pooling in your eyes. You gave no sign that you were going to respond, so he kept going. 

“Just tell me where your fucking head is at, Y/N. You can’t keep brushing me off like this. Did I do something wrong? Do you regret what we did? Am I, like… not ripped enough for you or something?” 

“Embry, no,” you pleaded. You could see the insecurity behind his eyes. You had to tell him what was going on, but you knew it would crush him. “It’s not that at all.” 

He waited. “Then what?” 

You closed your eyes, a tear slipping down your face. You wiped it away quickly before taking a deep breath. “I have been avoiding you.” You looked up at his face at this, finding tears building up in his own eyes. “I love you, Embry. But last weekend, just… I can’t do that again.” 

He clenched his jaw, looking anywhere but your face and nodded. He was hurt. You definitely could have worded that better. 

“Let me explain,” you pleaded. He wouldn’t look at you still, but didn’t walk away, so you kept going. “I think I might be broken or something, because that… It didn’t feel right.” 

At this, he looked back at your face, switching from hurt to concerned almost immediately. 

“Why would you think you’re broken?” 

Another pause. “I know you would never hurt me on purpose…”

“You were in pain?” he panicked, fresh tears pricking in his eyes. 

“It’s not your fault,” you hurried. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that? Why would you let me keep going?!” 

“I’m sorry!” you cried, causing him to walk up and embrace you. You sobbed into his chest as he pet your hair, all signs of anger gone. “You were having a good time, and I didn’t wanna ruin it, but it hurt so bad…” 

“Shhhhh,” he cooed as he rocked you from side to side, letting you calm down. “It’s okay.” 

After several minutes, you finally stopped crying. He didn’t falter in his embrace, only left light kisses on your forehead and cheek. 

“Y/N, I am so sorry,” he whispered into your hair. 

“It’s not your fault,” you replied. 

“Yes, it is. I’m supposed to take care of you. It was my job to make you feel good, and you were hurting that bad and I didn’t even notice.” You sniffled, just enjoying being in his arms. A few more minutes passed as you both calmed down. 

“To be fair, I did take a drama class last semester. I’d say I put on a pretty convincing performance,” you added weakly, an attempt to lighten the mood. 

He huffed a laugh, if for no other reason than to make you feel better. “Had me fooled,” he added. 

You smiled, looking up at him. “I’m sorry for avoiding you.” 

“It’s okay. I just wish you would have told me as soon as it started to hurt that you wanted to stop.” 

“I know. I should have, I just got all in my head about it.” 

“And I’m sorry for hurting you. I’ll never forgive myself, and I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore,” he answered, nervously awaiting your response. 

“I forgive you. And of course I still want to be with you, Embry. I love you. We just need to work on our communication skills a little bit,” you laughed. 

“We do. And I’ll start. I would really love another chance to make you feel good. If you promise to be honest about how you’re feeling, I know I can do a way better job. But I understand completely if you wanna wait a while… or if you never wanna do it again. You’re in charge here.” 

His words had your heart melting. He really did care about you, and you knew that if you had told him in the moment that you were in pain, he would have done anything to get you feeling good. You were always his first priority. 

“I’d be willing to try again, but what we did last time didn’t work. I think we need to think of some new techniques or something,” you mumbled shyly. 

“Tell you what. I’ll do some research, get some stuff, and you can come over tonight… if you want to. And we can maybe try again? And if you get there and aren’t feeling up to it, we can just watch a movie and cuddle. No pressure… I just miss you.” 

You thought for a second. Worst case scenario, you’d cuddle on the couch and eat junk food. You trusted Embry completely, and if you said stop, you knew he would. 

“Okay,” you replied. 

__________________________________

After a long shower, some fresh makeup, and a cute-yet-comfortable outfit, you were ready to go over to Embry’s. Sure, the nerves were kicking in, but you trusted him when he said he would do some research. When you pulled up, he was already standing in the doorway smiling. You ran out and gave him a giant bear hug (or wolf hug), and he picked you up and carried you into his room, kicking the door closed with his foot. 

“I missed you,” he said, face buried in your hair. 

“You saw me like 3 hours ago,” you giggled in response. 

“Yeah, but I haven’t seen you all week! Gotta get my Y/N fill or I might die!” 

You laughed loudly, hands threading up into his hair as he sat down on the bed with you seated in his lap. 

“Yeah, yeah, just try not to crowd me,” you cheekily replied. 

He raised an eyebrow before tackling you back onto the bed, tickling you like a maniac and placing playful kisses all over your face and neck. 

“Like this?! Don’t crowd you like this?” 

“Embry stop!” you laughed, trying to suck in a breath between his manic tickles. When he finally stopped, he was lying between your legs, one hand grasping both your wrists above your head, the other propped beside you so as to not crush you. He stared lovingly at your face before leaning down and placing a soft kiss on your lips. His grip on your arms loosened, as if to say You can stop me anytime, but you didn’t. You kissed him back, arms staying in place to tell him that you were okay. 

The kisses grew slightly more heated, but Embry kept them gentle. And every time you thought he was about to take things to the next step, he’d just kiss you some more. You were growing slightly impatient, breath labored and blood pumping fast. Your stomach became slightly warm, and every time you leaned up, he’d pull away. 

“You’re being mean,” you whimpered. 

He just looked at you and smirked before leaning down and capturing your lips once more. You could feel your blood heat in every part of your body. From your head to your toes, you felt warm and fuzzy, yet desperate for more,,, more touch, more pressure, more Embry. Growing frustrated, you hooked your legs around his waist and tried your best to pull him closer, unintentionally grinding your hips into his. When he brushed up against your core, you let out an involuntary sigh. It actually felt nice. He smiled into the kiss, pulling his lips away from yours and dragging them down to your jaw, and then your neck, suckling and sucking and leaving light red marks that made your head spin. The hand that was holding your wrists came down behind your back and up into your hair, firmly pulling your head back to give him better access to your neck. 

This movement made your entire back arch up into his body. His grip in your hair tightened slightly, lips sucking your skin up into his mouth as he nibbled, before soothing with his tongue. Your toes curled, legs pulling him impossibly closer. When he felt this, he ground his hips down into yours. The combination of his hands, lips, and weight on top of you made you let out a gasp. Your hands held onto his shoulders for dear life, pulling his shirt up in an attempt to take it off. He got the hint and sat up to remove it, being away from your body for far too long for your taste. He didn’t lower fully back down, however, instead sliding his warm hands under your shirt and onto your stomach. You sat up, taking your sweatshirt off and throwing it violently across the room. His eyes widened as they looked down at your bare chest in an almost feral fashion. He gripped your thighs, tugging you down the bed with ease, and resuming his position on top of you, hands roaming all over your torso. He cupped your breasts gently, rolling your nipples softly between his fingers. You shut your eyes and threw your head back, enjoying the sensations. His kisses trailed from your neck and down to your chest, softly. Lovingly. When he reached your nipples, his tongue poked out and licked around each of them, before taking them into his mouth and sucking. His hands continued to caress your back, and he took his sweet time switching from one breast to the other, and back again, until he felt your skin grow almost as hot as his. You were writhing underneath him, panting as your mind tried to comprehend the sensations. And his mouth, God it was so warm. You felt him kiss the undersides of your breasts, and then your stomach, and then lower… 

When he reached the waistband of your leggings, he brought his hands up as if to pull them off of you. He stopped, looking up at you for permission. You gave a lazy nod Yes, and lifted your hips to help him. He pulled your underwear off as well, spreading your legs and almost salivating at the sight of your soaking pussy. Not wanting to waste another second, he once again began placing kisses on your lower stomach, and then down to your hip bones, scraping his teeth lightly against the skin, which had you shuddering. He trailed lower, to where your thighs met your core, and began to suck lightly and the soft skin there. Your clit was throbbing by now, desperate for any sort of attention. You thrust your hips up, desperate for his mouth on the place you needed him, but he only pulled your legs over his shoulders and brought his arms across your stomach to hold you in place. Your hands went to his hair in an effort to control any aspect of this situation, but the boy was strong. He teased and teased and teased, until you thought you might very well crawl out of your own skin if he didn’t properly touch you soon. Embry brought his face right up to your center and licked into your entrance, making your toes curl once more. His hands gripped your hips as he brought you as far onto his tongue as he could, nose not quite brushing where you still needed him. 

“Embry…” you whimpered, about to tell him what you needed. 

“I know, baby. I got you,” he spoke, as he finally brought his warm tongue to lick a firm stripe up to your clit, swirling it around and sucking the swollen nub into his mouth. 

You let out a moan. A real one. Your first real one. And it only encouraged Embry, as he began to suck and lick with a steady rhythm that caused your legs to shake. You felt your stomach start to coil after several minutes of this, hands fisting Embry’s hair even tighter. It felt amazing, but that coil wouldn’t snap. He started to notice you coming down slightly, orgasm fading away, when he brought his index finger into your mouth. You sucked on instinct, before he pulled it out and brought it down to your entrance. He swirled the digit around a few times and began to push in slowly. One knuckle. Then two. And then he was fully in you. Sucking your clit into his mouth yet again, he rubbed his finger up into your front wall, massaging the ridges there. 

“Oh… Embry, oh my God,” you moaned. He used more pressure, and then brought his finger out and added another, slowly pushing them in together and resuming the ‘come-hither’ motion. You felt your muscles shake, losing all control, and the coil in your stomach tightened rapidly once again, only this time, it broke. Your back arched, eyes shut tight, mouth open in a silent scream as you came hard. Waves of pleasure drove through you, hands holding his head firmly onto your center. When you came down and opened your eyes, you looked down at his face to see an excited grin. 

“If you tell me that was fake, I think I’ll cry,” he chirped. 

You calmed your hard breathing enough to mutter a “That was real.” 

“Do you wanna keep going?” he asked. 

You nodded, taking note of the obvious tent in his shorts. You reached a hand down to grasp him, when he grabbed your wrist and said “Nuh-uh, I’m still making it up to you.” 

He stood up off the bed and went over to a plastic shopping bag on his desk. He opened it and pulled out a condom, some lube, and a small pink toy. Your eyes widened, and he cockily stated, “told you I’d do some research. Come here Sweetheart.” He held a hand out to help you up, and moved you so that you were on your hands and knees, bum facing him as he stood at the edge of the bed. He tore the condom packet open with his teeth and rolled it on, and then opened the bottle of lube and slathered it all over himself. He then brought what was left on his hand up to your sensitive core, distributing the substance gently. Throwing the bottle onto the floor, he lined himself up with your entrance. 

“You sure you wanna keep going?” he asked. You nodded in response. “I need you to say it, babe.” 

“Yes, I want to keep going, Em,” you almost cried. 

“Okay, but I need you to tell me if it hurts even a little. Promise?” 

“Promise.” 

He grasped your hip with one hand, guiding himself in with the other. Slowly, carefully, he became fully seated inside you, giving you a moment to adjust. You felt no pain, just a delicious stretch inside your walls. When Embry saw that you were relaxed, he pulled himself out a couple of inches and softly thrusted back in, looking for any signs of discomfort. He found none, and continued. He dragged himself in and out of you at a torturous pace that made your breathing pick up yet again. You needed more. You began rocking yourself back onto him, begging for a faster pace, and he complied. He pulled out several inches more this time, shoving back in at a quicker pace that had your toes curling and your moans going up in pitch. At this, he stopped holding back. Embry began pounding into you, hands gripping your hips tight enough to leave the good kind of bruise. You were moaning loudly, brain turning to mush. This is what sex was supposed to be like. What you’d always imagined it would be like. Passionate, loving, amazing. 

Embry found himself reaching the edge, but would not allow himself to finish before you. He reached down onto the bed for the small pink toy that you had forgotten about. He flicked it on, brought his other hand down and around your throat to pull you up against him, and held the small vibrator right onto your clit. The pounding pressure of his dick paired with the fervent vibrations had you seeing stars. You came. Hard. You didn’t know how long the orgasm had lasted. When you came to, you were lying on your back on the bed, breathing still labored, as Embry cleaned your thighs off with a damp towel. He noticed you looking up at him. 

“Hey, Sweetheart,” he cooed.

“Hey,” you responded weakly. 

“How ya doing?” 

“Really good,” you laughed. 

“Yeah?” he beamed at you as you nodded in response. “Good. I’m gonna get you some water and then we can cuddle, okay?” You only smiled in contentment as he walked off into the hallway, returning shortly with a cup of cold water. “Sit up for me?” 

“Can’t,” you answered, eliciting a laugh from him. 

“C’mon, I’ll help you,” he spoke as he gently held the back of your head, supporting you as you leaned up to drink from the cup he was holding up to your mouth. After you took a few sips, he seemed satisfied and placed the cup on the floor, lying down next to you and pulling you close. “If you start ignoring me after that, I might have to kill you,” he teased. 

“Don’t worry. I won’t ever ignore you again.” You sighed in contentment, listening to Embry’s soothing heartbeat, before you began to wonder. “By the way, what the heck kind of research did you do?” 

He huffed a laugh before responding, “Some guy on the internet called Owen Grey.” 

[moxfirefly]

I don't see many who ask for it and I adore the last one you did.

So IF it strikes your creative juices to do so, I would love another Abe Sapien NFSW with a female reader.

I don't have a specific scenario in mind, I thought I would leave that to something that may have been brewing in your mind for awhile. Eh, maybe bonus points for reader being regular bystander type person. But no real emphasis on that.

Again, only if the mood strikes you. I am the type that can only write when it hits me, the story, the timing, etc, so I like to give others a out if the mood never strikes them.

Adore and worship your writing 💞💞💞

Some Abe loving? Heck yes my dude! Also big fan of your stuff! I think this is the first time I have you in the inbox 💕

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

There’s many things that have stricken Abe. He feels things perhaps even more strongly than many could. The super hero gig brings a lot of emotions to the forefront, is he just a well treated captive with morals? Maybe. It’s protecting mankind something stands for? Most certainly.

Still doesn’t make the job any less harder.

And sure some civilians would rather spit at him and his comrades, treat them as less, as freaks.

Which brings him to right now, hiding behind a strangers couch while the authorities speak to her.

“Are you sure you didn’t see anything suspicious?” The too well dressed agent ask once more. You shake your head.

“Like I said, I heard noises but I wasn’t about to stick my head out the window” Actually you had, and that’s when you saw blue and large black eyes. The supposed cop writes something down, gives you once last glance behind your shoulder before thanking you for the cooperation.

The evening had gone from completely quiet to a few shouts and gun fire, which was common in this neck of the woods but when you chanced a glance and saw Abe (he had politely introduced himself) you noticed the wound on his arm.

“I think you’re clear, for now at least” You whispered as you locked the door, Abe slowly stood from behind the couch, large eyes blinking.

“I cannot begin to express my gratitude….” You held your hands up and shook your head before he could continue. “I just, it felt wrong to leave you out there and much more to turn you in” Your eyes followed the blood on his arm, it hit you again and you jittery went about looking for a towel or anything whilst apologizing profusely.

Between stopping the bleeding and getting a crash course on suturing with dental floss and a needle, the hours had passed between that and gentle speaking. Abe had explained who he is and what he does. His busted up communicator had been the first problem of the night, getting separated from his team had been the second. Your superstitious brain had its way upon learning that creatures of all sort (good or bad) basically roam the earth.

“Have you ever thought about leaving?” You had asked over a warm cup of coffee. Those bottomless eyes of his had twitched slightly.

Abe’s thought of it. Packing up randomly and just leaving. To see how true it is that he’s the last of his kind, the last of his family.

When a stranger says it, it feels sort of possible.

Doable.

He shakes his head instead, the edges of his mouth betraying only slightly. “No, I can’t” He leaves it that and you silently accept it.

Curiosity gets a hold of you as you tentatively pressed an index and forefinger to his forearm. He’s naturally cool, insanely soft but firm. You smile genuinely surprised, if anything mesmerized by the look of him.

You did always feel at home in the water. To see somebody who, for them, the water was first nature for them. Well it made all those stories your nana would tell you about the sea life feel so real. Just like that you let both fingers trail down his forearm, a gentle path without words.

And yet it spoke so greatly to Abe.

“I’m not a mermaid” He laughed softly, your wide eyes too comical for him to handle.

“Forgive me, but I have other abilities that allow me to… well to read you better” Did he just admit to being a mind reader?

You swallow, embarrassment tinting your cheeks and a hand still resting atop his own. Abe, not wishing to, read every alarmed thought and even ones that would’ve made him blush if he could. His hand held your wrist gently. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you” His apology was genuine, you shook your head with a shy smile.

What a strange turn of events the night had been. After some chatter and another pot of coffee, Abe was standing to take his leave. He had to somehow find his way back to the main camp, from there alert everyone that he was safe and had just been taking shelter.

In the company of a beautiful lady.

He swallowed, absently he ran a hand over the bandages you had so carefully wrapped around his arm. “All things considered, I’m glad you showed up at my window” You walked him over to said window, you both chuckled.

“All things considered, thank you for helping me… I fear I wouldn’t have had the same luck with the family of four beneath you” That pulled another series of chuckles from the two of you. There was an awkward pause, Abe stuck his hand towards you. You licked your lips and shook your head.

Instead you wrapped him up in a hug.

It left him quite stumped and not many things stumped Abe. Slowly he wrapped his arms around you, palms resting at the middle for your back. You thought about how nice he felt against you and it was enough to make his body feel something.

You pulled away gently, fingers lingering over cold scales. Those big dark doe eyes of his blinked in their unique inquisitive way.

Something inside of you said, ‘screw it’

Abe feels lips against his own, soft and unsure but nevertheless, perfect.

Kissing didn’t seem like something he’d ever partake in, needless to say it didn’t mean he often thought about it.

And now, with your lips against his own, he feels so much more than just your curiosity. He feels the shape of you against him, hands cupping his cheeks, the gentle tug to bend just enough to better kiss him. It’s almost intimidating how wrapped up he is in it.

When you seize with a gentle final press to the bottom of his lip, Abe’s forgotten his original intention of bidding you adieu.

Instead, he captures your lips once more and chances upon a firmer kiss. You follow it, follow the shyness and inexperience but the mechanics are there, the knowledge is there and you sweetly guide him in the dance of it. You find yourself pressed against the very window he was about exit out of and the cold of his skin in front you rivals the cold of the glass behind you. He’s firm, not at all jacked up like your past lovers but there’s an enticing strength to his lean body.

There’s something even more enticing how the blue of his skin contrast against your own human tone. The buckle of his belt digs into your navel when you urge him closer, lost in his cold lips. That very hand that could read anything it touches, finds your neck and lingers in warmer flesh.

You want him. It’s insane but you know you want whatever may happen.

He reads that, it makes him shudder because up until now he knew no one would ever consider him to be a lover.

And yet here you were, pressing your lower half against his own and letting a soft moan scatter inside his mouth and down his throat. It goes straight to his gut, so much more lower and it’s enough to make him stop and consider you once more.

“I want to…” He already knows the ending to that sentence.

“You, you don’t know me” He’s trying to find a inch of reluctance somewhere inside of you.

But he finds none.

Just lust, just need.

Just the thought of him and what lies beneath his-

Abe swallows, dark eyes blinking when he feels the palm of your hand against his stomach. “You said you’re the good guy in all this, yeah?” Your voice is teasing, nails tempting him further when they scratch closer to the buckle of his belt. Abe only nods, head tilting down to watch that very hand unfasten it, his weapon and other utensils fall.

“Then, unless you don’t want me, I don’t see why we can’t” Your tongue snakes out to lick your lips and Abe follows the movement.

“I- I do” A part of him feels shameful, feels he’s taking advantage but it’s not the case? Is it? Just insecurity trying to claim him once more. He feels your hands grasp his wrist and guides them to your chest-

Oh that’s, they feel very, very soft.

He goes in again, kissing you just a little more feverishly, enjoying that noise he swallowed not too long ago again.

Somewhere between more kissing and curious hands he has you bare before him and you’ve just finished nudging his shorts with the heal of your foot. The glass behind you in already hot, somewhat steamed with your body heat. It’s tricky and he’s self conscious but the few glances you sneak between the two of you find you even more in lust with the shape of him. You sit on the windowsill and bring him in closer.

You wrap a hand around him and feel his head drop against your shoulder with a shudder. Careful about it, you pump him a few times to get a better sense of his size. “I’ve ne-never-“ You kiss his cheek, kiss the worry away. “It’s okay, want me to lead?” You ask softly against his neck with another languid stroke to his shaft.

Abe nods against your shoulder blade.

When you lead him in, slide him inside with little to no issue, he’s gut punched by the warmth. How tightly you engulf him, the pulsating that has him stuttering his hips and sighing. You wrap your legs around him, a hand shooting up to grip his shoulder. He sees your head thrown back, resting against the glass a picture of eroticism he’s read about.

But here? In real time? With everything that’s coursing in him?

No book could ever amount to this.

He kisses you again, feels more words and cusses filtering into him, breast tightly against his chest and god he’s making you feel this. You watch those bottomless eyes watch every inch of yourself move against him. The wet slide of him leaving and entering you with each thrust picking up more and more. The slap of yourself against the window echoes along with the noises you both make.

You grip his waist with your legs, keeping him locked in place, wanting more of this intoxicating feeling, the coldness of his skin contrasting against your warm one. It’s so good, fuck it’s so good.

His hand finds your own, lifts it above your head not in a show of possession. More so in an intimate need to connect further with you. You hold his hand, grip tightening the more you feel yourself closer to release. With the way he’s breathing you know he is too, the wonderment that he’s probably never done this hits you hard.

“Y-you’re-“ Your mouth opens. “Doing so fucking good” You manage to finish off in the midst of a moan.

And that breaks Abe apart.

Has him burying his face in your neck, a whimper and something you barely make out as a competent sentence. He cums just like that, glued to you, surrounded by your scent and the feel of your hot sweaty skin. He manages to keep going a few minutes more to have you cumin. Abe feels that, the way you tighten and constrict around his cock and the oversensitivity is enough to hook him.

You both try catching air, eyes glued to one another.

A quiet understanding that this simply can’t be the last of it.

[homoose]

you reblogged those gifs of reid with an attitude and it reminded me of how much i love sassy reid like i just wanna bicker with that mf so badly lmfao (n then hold hands later 🤢)

oh man this just 💧 into my head. gn!reader (the gifs in question)

———

The door closed quietly and you heard Spencer sigh from the entryway. You poked your head out of the kitchen and gave him the best smile you could muster. “Hey! I didn’t expect you home today.”

“Wrapped the case early,” he muttered.

You tread over the next words carefully, knowing how he could get into his head about cases. “Is that... not a good thing?”

He ignored your question and gestured around at the apartment. “How does it always end up looking like this when I’ve been gone for more than a couple days?”

Your jaw dropped open, half in embarrassment and half in shock. “Whoa, what?”

“I don’t understand how you live like this.” He started picking up the living room. He folded the blanket you’d been sleeping under for the past week— the bed far too big without him in it. Then he straightened the coffee table that you’d been using as a home office. Finally he gathered the trash— snack wrappers, tissues, a couple empty powerade bottles— and brushed past you into the kitchen, dropping the collection into the full garbage can.

You managed to close your mouth as he turned to the sink— overflowing with the dishes from the pasta recipe you’d made to feel like you’d accomplished something, anything while he was away. He gestured wildly at the mess. “Can’t even get to the faucet to wash my hands.”

Your shock turned to annoyance like the flip of a switch. “Sorry that I wanted to cook something for myself while you were gone for a week and a half.”

“It’s really not that difficult to wash the dishes as you go, and then you don’t have all this mess.”

His tone had you crossing your arms over your chest. “Well, it’s hard to do that when there’s only one person doing all the work.”

He turned to face you and drew his brows together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re never here!”

“Okay? And you knew that when you married me,” he shrugged, “so I’m not sure how that’s relevant.”

“And I’m not sure why you’re so concerned with what I do when you’re gone, but here we are.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m concerned because it’s irritating to come home from the hell that is my job and be greeted by a pig sty.”

You turned your head to look behind you, made a show of looking over his head and then over your other shoulder. He furrowed his brow. “What’re you looking at?”

You laughed, but there was no humor it. “I’m just trying to find who it is you’re talking to, because it could not possibly be me that you’re speaking to like that.”

He pursed his lips, and you thought you saw a sliver of regret, and then he was muttering out, “I’m gonna take a shower.” He moved to leave the kitchen, careful not to get too close as he passed.

“Great.” You waited til he was halfway to the bathroom. “Hopefully the water does a reverse gremlin and turns you back into the man I married.” You meant to spit venom, but it felt more like rain on a splintering roof.

...

You were curled up under the blanket on the couch when the shower finally turned off. You’d shook it out extra vigorously as a sort of fuck you to Spencer before tucking yourself in underneath and turning to face the back of the couch.

It wasn’t that he was necessarily wrong— your apartment was a mess; you knew that. But you hadn’t known that he was coming home. And the week had been less than kind to you. And then your husband walked in the door and chose to be unkind, too.

You heard the scrape of the dresser drawer, the creaking of the floorboards, the shuffle of socked feet. And then there was a long pause.

You closed your eyes, brought a hand up to wipe at a tear that had slipped over your lash line, and felt his presence before he said anything. For a minute it was just the two of you in silence, until he asked, “Are you awake?”

You thought about feigning sleep, but there was a tenor of grief in his voice that tugged at your heart. You sighed. “Yes.”

“Are you— are you coming to bed?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, not willing to cave so easily. “Should I?”

He moved to sit on the edge of the couch and looked at your back and then at his hands. “Yes.” He sucked in a wavering breath. “I’m sorry. For being mean, and critical, and an asshole. I know that— I know it’s not easy for you to be alone all the time.”

He turned his whole body toward you on the couch, and you felt his hand hovering over your side. “The bed’s still— did you sleep out here all week?”

You’d been on the couch for nine days. “I just— I don’t sleep well in our bed without you.”

His hand was closing over your side and pulling you up and toward him before you’d even finished the sentence. He wrapped his arms around you, buried his face in your neck, and let out a breath that sounded a lot like agony. “I’m so sorry. It was a shitty case, but that’s no excuse for being a jerk.” He sniffled a little into your shoulder. “I love you, and I’m s-sorry.”

Your arms came around his shoulders, and you combed soothing fingers through his hair. “I love you, too. I’m sorry it was a tough one.”

He shook his head against your shoulder, pulled back just enough to press his lips to yours. You brought gentle hands to his face, pressed your forgiveness into his skin and breathed it into his mouth.

You broke apart only when you had to come up for air, and Spencer immediately laced his fingers with yours, pressed kisses to backs of both your hands. “Come to bed?”

You hummed. “That shower really did bring back my mogwai, huh?”

[writertitan]

Grandfather Clock (III)

pairing: levi x f!reader

word count: 7068 (oops)

themes:  adult f!reader, arranged marriage, multi-part fic, levi is a stubborn asshole at first, no love at first sight here folks

a/n: the final part!! enjoy!!!

Read Part 1 Here

Read Part 2 Here

On the 20th day of Levi’s engagement to you, he found himself tense, frowning, and sitting across a less than pleased Erwin, right in the commander’s office. 

Erwin sat at his desk, deep discontent written all over his face, with his arms folded tightly across his broad chest. 

Levi knew the scolding was coming and cursed himself in his head for being so careless. He hadn’t really meant too much by it. Mike had just been asking him how things were going as they walked down the hall together and the words had just tumbled out. Levi didn’t like talking about his personal life in general, mostly because he had hardly had one prior to getting engaged, but now he was extra wary. 

“Not much to tell. Just thankful she agreed not to have an actual wedding and to prolong it as long as possible.” 

That was all he’d said and he’d said it with a tone of finality that Mike understood well. It was the tone that warned not to push it any farther. 

It was just Levi’s luck that Erwin had rounded the corner as the words left him. The commander had bristled as he processed what Levi had said and then blurted out that he needed to see the shorter man immediately, in his office. 

Levi had never seen Mike hurry off so quickly before. 

And now here he was, tense and waiting for Erwin to lash out at him. 

The words came moments later, but Levi didn’t get yelled at, which made him feel worse. Erwin was quiet, stern, and very open with his disappointment. 

“Is it true? You really asked that of her?” 

“Yes,” Levi sighed, running a hand over his tired face. “I did.” 

“You didn’t even consult me about it. Levi, I hope you know I’m trying to grant you as much freedom as I can in this situation, but this was out of line. I’m sorry, but you don’t have that kind of say.” 

Erwin’s words made Levi wince a little, but he tried to keep a stoic face. He could see that the commander was waiting for him to say something, but Levi didn’t quite know what to say. 

He thought of you for a moment, and thought about how confused he’d been lately, and then looked at Erwin with a hint of a frown. 

“You’ve hardly given us any freedom,” he blurted out, and then cursed himself yet again. He’d used the word “us” instead of “me” and he knew that Erwin would catch wind of that. 

He did, and he even seemed to soften up a bit, raising a brow curiously. 

And then Erwin used you as ammunition. 

“You’ve stripped away any semblance of choice left for her by making her agree to your terms. She has even less freedom than you. Is that what you wanted?” Erwin asked, but the question was more rhetorical than anything. 

Levi’s frown grew deeper. His mind went back to you, how broken you’d looked when he’d said he didn’t want a wedding day, and how he wanted to wait as long as possible to actually be married. And then his mind took him to that day you were feeling unwell, and how that same broken expression appeared when he’d gotten upset with you. 

His chest grew heavy when he realized he had helped in breaking you. 

And even worse, he hadn’t gone back to visit you after that day, when you had fainted. It had spurred too many mixed emotions in him and he had wanted the space to clear his head. And you had confirmed you were still unwell in your most recent letter to him from yesterday. 

But maybe you were lying. Maybe Levi had broken you so much that you wanted to start keeping your distance from him. 

That’s what he wanted, right? 

Is that what you wanted?

Erwin’s unanswered question echoed in his mind. 

If that was what he’d wanted, why did he feel this way, so horrible, after being called out by Erwin? 

“I just don’t know what to do,” Levi finally said, unable to meet Erwin’s gaze. 

Erwin hummed and sat back in his chair, arms now unfolded as he looked at Levi. The conversation had gone way beyond Levi’s little mistake. As much as he wanted to help his friend, there was a reason Erwin had been wandering the halls. He had, in fact, been searching for Levi. And he had, in fact, been wanting to discuss the topic of you. It had been mere coincidence that Erwin had caught Levi’s confession. 

“Talk to her,” Erwin said, eyes on Levi, who was still looking anywhere but at him. “And I’d suggest going today. There was a reason I’ve been looking for you.” 

At that, Levi flickered his eyes to Erwin, a hint of curiosity in them. And, dare Erwin say, even a little bit of worry hid behind the silver. 

“Well, spit it out,” Levi said, already making to stand up. “What happened? Is something wrong?” 

Erwin also stood up, slowly and deliberately, and didn’t know how to answer that. 

“There’s been some...civil unrest recently. Some of the working class citizens have been getting riled up because of some recent unfortunate events with the upper class,” Erwin explained, watching carefully for Levi’s reaction. “Some of my intel has told me there’s talk of a few riots being planned.” 

“What kind of ‘unfortunate events’ are you talking about?” Levi pressed, arms at his side with hands clenched into fists. This didn’t sound good. 

“Seems like your fiancee’s father has been in some bad business deals that affected a lot of his workforce. And he’s got quite the workforce, if you remember,” Erwin murmured, looking a little thoughtful as he tried to gage Levi’s reaction. “I was looking for you to tell you that I’d like for you to go and check on things. I’m not sure how extreme the situation is.” 

Levi was already halfway out of the office and didn’t bother to answer. He was, without a doubt, upset. 

Upset that Erwin didn’t let him know about this immediately. 

Upset that it would take a while to get to you. 

And, curiously, he was upset that he was upset. What the hell was going on with him? 

-

In your parlor room, you were curled up on the sofa and reading your favorite book. It took all your willpower to try not to think about how, just a few days ago, Levi had touched those very same pages. 

He’d kept his distance since then, though you had certainly had some part in that by sending him a note to say you were still sick. It wasn’t true at all and you’d felt almost back to normal the next day, but you couldn’t really face Levi yet. Despite forgiving him and allowing yourself to have a little bit of hope that things would turn out okay for the two of you, it was obvious that Levi was still on the fence with you, and had a very specific opinion about who you were despite not getting to know you. 

You were using this time away from him to think of ways to show him that you weren’t that way at all, and that his impression of you was, truthfully, completely off the mark. 

As the grandfather clock sounded off at noon, it brought you back to reality. You set your book down, not that you’d actually been reading much of it, and sighed when your stomach grumbled. Definitely lunchtime. 

You stood up and stretched, about to walk to the kitchen and bother Chef Erlo when you realized something seemed...off. 

The clock struck noon for a final time and you realized that that was the only sound you could really hear from all over the house. Silence engulfed you when the grandfather clock stopped, and you peered out into the hallway, baffled when you saw absolutely nobody in sight. 

Feeling like you couldn’t break the silence, you stayed quiet as a mouse as you made your way to the kitchen, hoping to hear the usual bustle of noise there for lunch. Maybe that’s where everyone was. It was lunchtime, after all. Had you forgotten it was somebody’s birthday? Sometimes you’d sneak the staff into the servant’s quarters for a bit of a break and have a little birthday celebration during lunch, but you were sure nobody’s big day was today.

But you didn’t make it to the kitchen. As you got closer to the foyer, you could hear the commotion outside, interrupting the eerie silence in your home. Instead of going to check on things, curiosity got the best of you and you ended up peering out the window to see what was going on. A little gasp left your lips when you saw what was outside. 

Hoards of people were at the gates of your home, screaming and shouting profanities as they tried to make their way inside. Your heart sped up at the sight, absolutely terrified at the pure hatred they all wore on their faces. You couldn’t really make out what they were all saying, but you heard the profanities, and you heard your father’s name enough times to know that this was personal. 

The guards situated outside at the gate were pushing back as much as they could, and you even see that some of the Garrison soldiers had come to help out, but the crowd seemed to be growing bigger and bigger by the second. At any moment, it would bubble over and spill past the gates of your home. 

Right to you. 

Once again, after a lifetime of avoiding your father and his business to try and escape it, you were being dragged right into the middle of it instead. 

You had to run. The anger outside was something that was almost tangible; you could feel it weighing heavily in the air even from where you stood inside your home. No doubt that someone would try to hurt you just in the belief that it would hurt your father to know they’d gotten to you. 

For a brief moment, Levi flashed through your mind, and you sincerely regretted lying to him about still feeling unwell when his face popped to the front of your head. Maybe he would have helped you. Maybe not. The anger you could feel from the crowd outside was unfortunately similar to the anger Levi had bestowed upon you just a few days ago. 

As you backed away from the window, you thought of all the different places you could go to hide. So lost in your thoughts, you didn’t register the footsteps sneaking up behind you and gasped when a hand clamped against your mouth to keep you quiet. 

Before you could try and scream, a familiar voice whispered in your ear, “Shh, it’s only me. Let’s go.” 

You whirled around, tears of relief springing to your eyes as you hugged Greta tightly. 

“Greta,” you breathed out shakily, pulling away to look at her with wide eyes. “What’s going on?” 

“Let’s not talk here, come on,” she whispered, tugging you towards the servant’s quarters, where you knew the wine cellar was situated. As soon as the door was closed and locked behind the two of you, Greta practically dragged you down the stairs. It was cooler down there and you shivered involuntarily. 

There was dim candlelight at the end of the steps that lit up a narrow hallway, one that led towards a heavy wooden door. Chef Erlo was there holding a candelabra with one hand, a silver key in the other. 

Your tears of relief spilled over at the sight of him. 

“Erlo,” you whimpered, moving to hug him as well. He was just as quick about it as Greta was, gently stepping away from you with a small and sympathetic smile. 

“We’ll get you out of here safely, miss,” he promised you. 

A pang of fear hit you and you looked between Erlo and Greta, hand at your chest as you thought of the worst. 

“And everyone else? Is everyone okay?” you asked them.

From above, you heard glass shattering and heavy thumps. Your heart pounded so hard against your chest that you worried your ribs would crack from the force. The fear you felt in that moment was unparalleled, unmatched by any other situation in your life. You’d never been this scared in your entire life. 

“Everyone is safe. Except for you,” Greta said, and she nodded for Erlo to open the door. He unlocked it and hurried you both inside, but you stopped in your tracks when you saw Erlo wasn’t following. 

“I’m going to lock the door behind me and slip the key under the crack. That should buy you some time,” he said to Greta, avoiding your gaze. 

“What are you talking about? You’re coming with us, it’s not safe here! Something’s happening outside, people are angry and I don’t know why,” you rambled, tearing up again. Greta reached over to squeeze your hand, but everything about it was rushed, too hurried to really be a comfort to you. 

Erlo flashed you another small smile, and then gave you a wink, his crow’s feet prominent as he finally flashed his goofy smile. 

“I’ll be fine, miss. Don’t worry about me. It’s not me they’re after,” he assured you, but it didn’t make you feel any better. 

Chef Erlo was like the father you’d never had. It was impossible to allow him to do this, but Greta held you back as he shut the door and locked it once again, with the key slipping underneath moments later. 

Greta let go of you to swipe it off the ground, and then began to push you forward, nearly in the dark save for cracks of light at the door opposite the room. 

The faint smell of wine permeated the air and you found yourself wishing for a glass to calm your nerves. Greta led you to the door in just a few moments flat, using the same key to unlock it and hurry through with you in tow. 

It was the bulkhead entrance to the wine cellar, where the merchants would come deliver or take some wine. Part of your father’s business. It was where a lot of things were delivered. On the few steps there beneath the wooden doors, there was a maid’s dress and some worn shoes. One look at Greta told you that the new outfit was for you, so you wasted no time in nearly tearing off your dress and kicking off your shoes to put on the much simpler garments and better blend in outside without striking too much attention to yourself. Your current outfit would have been a dead giveaway to your status. 

Greta lifted one of the doors up just enough to peer out cautiously as you changed, making sure it was safe to leave. Once she was sure it was, she nodded to you and lifted the door up quietly, keeping it lifted for you to hop up the short steps and out into the spring afternoon. 

It was cloudy outside, threatening to rain. As if on cue, a crack of thunder sounded and you felt it was remarkably similar to a cliche in your favorite novel; it always rained whenever your favorite character was feeling upset. 

You didn’t have much time to dwell on that. Greta gripped you by the elbow and tugged you away from the house in a pace that was rushed but not too much that it looked suspicious. Now that you were wearing new clothes, you looked like everyone else outside. There was no real need to rush and risk getting caught. 

Nobody paid the two of you any mind. The real focus was on your house that was currently getting ransacked. 

The sight made your heart sink to your stomach, but your tears had already dried. 

It was true that these people were destroying the only home you’d ever known. It was true that in that moment, you were sure you’d never go back to it. But you just couldn’t find it in you to cry about this. Your tears were reserved for your staff and worrying about their wellbeing. 

Whatever your father had done, it probably deserved this level of outrage. 

Although you were filled to the brim with fear and adrenaline, above all, you felt a peculiar sense of freedom as more and more people pushed their way past the gates of your home to run inside. 

Greta gave you a moment to watch the scene before steering you away with promises to explain everything as soon as she got you to safety. 

The only time tears actually did threaten your eyes again was when Captain Levi’s face pushed its way into your mind once more. 

Maybe you would never see him again. And maybe he’d like that. 

-

Levi was all too familiar with feeling dread settle in his stomach and harden like a rock. He’d experienced it all his life, countless times as he watched comrades die, often such a big part of his nightmares and the reason for his insomnia. 

He didn’t expect to feel that rock in his stomach as he approached your home. Rather, what was left of it. 

But he felt it settle in his stomach, a dread so heavy that he almost had to hunch over, and he looked on in horror as people continued to run in and out of your home. Many people were running out with valuables in their arms. Others were running inside just to destroy everything in sight. 

He was far too late, by the look of things. 

His eyes darted around, a futile attempt to locate you, but of course he didn’t see you anywhere. 

Soldiers and guards were doing what they could, and Levi could see reinforcements marching in, but it was too late. 

It was too late. 

Levi hopped off his horse and pushed past people and soldiers alike as he ran into your home, taking in the sight of broken glass and ruined furniture and banged up walls. 

It was disgusting. 

He went to your room first and only found it ravaged and empty with no signs of life. 

Levi knew he was being crazy. Of course he wasn’t going to just find you there. In fact, the thought of seeing you in the middle of all this would have actually been worse. But not knowing where you were had his stomach in knots. 

As a last resort, he checked the parlor room, where you’d shared an afternoon that had left Levi questioning himself and questioning you. Mostly himself. 

He got there as the grandfather clock chimed at the top of the hour. It was just as ravaged as your room, but curiously enough, he noticed your favorite novel on the ground by where the side table used to be. 

He picked it up and clutched it tightly, and then made a promise. 

He would find you and he would get your book back to you. It was the only possession you had left in the world, he realized, looking around. 

He’d find you. 

He wouldn’t rest until he’d found you. 

-

A cup of tea warmed your hands as silence filled the room of Greta’s mother’s kitchen. 

The two women stared at you with so much sympathy, and so much worry, that it made you feel loved and yet also a little small at the same time. 

Greta had just finished explaining everything to you. 

Your father had been atrocious, and had taken advantage of his employees. He was in protective custody because he’d anticipated this riot to happen. Nobody knew where your mother was. It was a miracle that Greta and Erlo had managed to help you and everyone else out before you’d gotten hurt. Or killed. 

And now you didn’t know what would happen next. 

Your spirits, already low, dimmed even more at the thought of Chef Erlo. You desperately hoped he was okay, and hopefully he was. After all, he’d been correct: nobody was trying to hurt him. Only you and your family. 

“Are you sure everybody made it out safely?” you whispered to Greta, who immediately nodded. 

“Everyone’s been aware of some of the...tensions around town,” she explained. “We all had an exit plan in the works, just didn’t realize we’d have to implement it so soon.” 

You flashed a brief and sad smile, nodding once as you took a sip of your tea. 

“Thank you for getting everyone out safely first. It means the world to me.” 

In your mind, you were just as responsible for your father’s sins as he was. To think you didn’t even have a clue of what was going on. It was embarrassing. 

As if reading your mind, Greta’s mother, May, reached forward to squeeze your arm reassuringly. 

“It’s not your fault, darling,” she murmured. “It wasn’t your place to know.” 

You sighed softly and kept your eyes on your tea, frowning to yourself. It was true that you had basically been forced to be cooped up in the house, and now you were thinking there was a clear reason behind it now. You hardly had much say in your day to day schedule, especially after getting engaged to Captain Levi. Still, it didn’t feel good to be so in the dark. 

And the thought of Captain Levi sent your heart aflutter. Did he know? Had he been aware of this the whole time? Was this part of the reason for your arrangement? 

Slowly, you picked up your gaze from your tea to settle on Greta, biting the inside of your cheek before asking the question you were dreading to ask. 

“What happens now?” 

She didn’t look too sure either as she pondered your question, finally settling for shrugging her shoulders. 

“I don’t know, miss,” she answered honestly. “I hate to say it, but it depends on your father. He and your mother will start looking for you once they realize you’re missing.” 

The thought made you nauseous. Despite such a horrible outcome of your day, that peculiar feeling of freedom had been what kept you going. There was some sort of thrill attached to it. 

You realized it was achingly similar to the hope you felt for your arrangement for Levi. The chance of things looking up, turning around. 

All this hope and nothing to show for it. 

Now you were hopeless. 

-

News had gotten to Erwin quickly. Levi saw the commander ride in with other squad leaders as he helped beat down and arrest some of the rowdier citizens at your home. He hated to be there and wanted to go off and find you more than anything, but someone there had to have seen you, or seen what happened to you. 

So far, nobody seemed to remember seeing you. In fact, some people had sworn to him that the house had been empty of people the entire time. Not a soul in the home at all. 

When Erwin stepped past the gates, Levi had never wanted to pummel him so badly. Instead, he shoved a badly beaten merchant towards his commander with a growl, eyes nearly feral as he found the calm blue ones that he hated more than anything at the moment. 

“You said there was civil unrest. You didn’t say there was an entire fucking mob,” he snapped. 

Erwin remained calm, casually stepping over the merchant to get closer to Levi. 

“Seems I was deceived,” he admitted, looking around. “Her father kept me in the dark. I had no idea about any of this. But I suppose you’ll be pleased to hear that I’m calling off the deal. We can’t tarnish the Scouts’ reputation even more by doing business with this family.” 

Levi’s body went cold at the news. 

Just a couple of weeks ago, he would have felt nothing but pure relief. Now, he felt nothing but pure dread. 

“What about…?” 

Levi couldn’t even say your name. It caught at the back of his throat and he struggled to breathe. He tried his best to remain as stoic as always, but Erwin knew him so well, and could see the concern at the edges of Levi’s gaze. 

“There’s not much protection we can offer her, being her father’s daughter. She’s under his control,” Erwin reminded him. “Do you know where she is? I heard she’s declared missing.” 

Levi nodded once to confirm, his worry amplifying at Erwin’s words. 

He couldn’t protect you. Not while you were still affiliated with your father. 

“People are saying that nobody was in the house,” Levi said, giving the commander a rundown of events. “I did a quick search, didn’t find any of the staff. No one was around.” 

Erwin hummed a little, hands behind his back as he took in the sight of the damaged house in front of him. 

“No surprise there. Our man of the hour is already in protective custody, having predicted this well before anyone else, and his wife was visiting with a friend, and now they’re all in protective custody as well. It’s just your ex-fiancee that we’re having trouble locating. Perhaps she’s with her staff.” 

How stupid of him. Levi hadn’t really thought of that possibility yet. He’d been so focused on finding you, assuming the worst, that he hadn't taken the time to really think it through enough to realize that you were missing along with the staff. 

Erwin was already five steps ahead of them. 

“Some of the scouts are off to find the staff members that don’t live here in-house. One of them is bound to know where she is.” 

Levi couldn’t help the small sigh of relief that left him, but he still felt useless if he wasn’t doing more to help. Without another word to Erwin, he marched off to do another quick search around the entire perimeter. 

Some medics had come onto the scene as well and he was surprised to see a couple of them towards the back of the house, dragging someone out of the cellar. Levi had admittedly not really looked down there, knowing all there was, was food storage and wine cellar that someone had told him was all cleared out by now. 

A familiar old man was getting dragged out and treated. He was badly beaten, bruised from head to toe, and his breathing was raspy and uneven. 

Levi knew him to be a staff member and his heart skipped a beat. 

Before he knew what he was doing, he was kneeling beside the old man, shaking him to get his attention despite the angry protests of a medic. 

The old man opened his eyes and grimaced, but his face grew soft at the sight of Levi. 

“Captain Levi,” he greeted him in a hoarse voice. “You’re a little late, don’t you think?” 

“Where is she?” Levi asked, voice soft. “Do you know?” 

“I know,” the man confirmed, nodding slowly as his eyes closed. “Greta...Greta took her. She’s...with Greta’s mother. But don’t know where...she lives.” 

Greta. Levi knew that name. It was the name of one of the maids. You looked to be friends with her. 

“Thank you,” he said, very sincere, before standing back up. More determined than ever, he made a beeline for his horse, a plan of action already formulating in his mind. He could make do with the information given to him. It was all he needed. 

He was going to find you. 

-

The sun hung low in the sky as May and Greta made up Greta’s old bed for you. 

You had insisted on sleeping anywhere else, even the floor, but Greta had already set her mind on sharing a bed with her mother. 

“I shared a bed with one of the other maids all the time, whenever we felt like it,” she told you. “I actually like it. It’s nice having another person there with you.” 

You still felt a little guilty but stayed silent, and opted instead to watch the sun lower through the window of Greta’s childhood bedroom after being shooed off. 

Greta and her mother chattered amongst themselves and you didn’t have the heart to join in just yet. You felt so drained after the day’s events that you couldn’t muster up the energy they had. 

What kept you so anxious was also the thought of having to stay under your father’s thumb. 

It was maddening to know that after everything, he still had your life in his hands. To be a highborn lady was to be in shackles. 

A plan was starting to formulate in your mind, one where you could fake your death and run away and find work as a maid or maybe even a governess. Greta could help and confirm that you’d been taken, never to be seen again. You could grab your clothes that you’d discarded, if they were still around, and maybe douse them in animal blood or something, to really sell it. 

But your plan was cut short with a pounding at the front door downstairs. The knocking was so intense that all three of you froze and looked between each other, fear prickling your spines. 

When the door clearly sounded like it was trying to be opened, May sprang into action and ran downstairs, which kickstarted your adrenaline. You ran after her, afraid for her possibly getting hurt, reaching out for her to try and stop her from going any farther. 

“May, no!” you hissed, eyes on the front door that was now in view. Someone was slamming into it, the lock jiggling unsteadily, until it finally gave in. 

You were paralyzed in fear as the door flew open, but fear gave way to shock at the sight of Captain Levi at the entrance, looking frazzled. You would have never predicted you’d ever see him as anything other than composed or angry. 

As soon as your eyes locked, you ran to him. 

“Captain Levi!” 

He stopped you before you could throw your arms around him and, at first, you felt embarrassed by it, taking it as a rejection. 

It wasn’t until he started examining you, hands lifting and twisting your arms and turning your face this way and that, that you felt your heart warm up. 

“Are you hurt?” he asked. He was cupping your face, holding your jaw familiar as his eyes scanned your face for any signs of injury, and that frazzled look he held only softened when his eyes finally met yours. 

You shook your head slowly, keeping his gaze, hands shyly reaching up to cover his over your jaw. 

“I’m not hurt,” you whispered. “Just scared.” 

Levi frowned and reluctantly let go of your face, but his hands didn’t travel far. He rested them on your shoulders while your hands gently gripped his forearms, the two of you in your own little bubble. 

“You don’t have to be scared anymore,” he promised you, sounding so earnest. “Nobody can hurt you while I’m here.” 

Your bottom lip quivered, emotional at the thought of him willingly protecting you, but also emotional at the more sinister situation at hand. 

“My father can,” you told him, squeezing his forearms as the words left your mouth. “Greta says he’ll be looking for me soon. I can’t escape him.” 

Levi’s eyes hardened at that, grip also tightening on your shoulders, before he groaned and stepped away from you to run a hand over his face. 

“Erwin said the same thing to me,” he admitted, pacing back and forth. He briefly looked towards Greta and her mother, then to the now broken front door, and blankly stared at them before muttering, “I’ll fix that.” 

He turned back to you, arms crossed, as he took on a look of deep concentration. It was only there for a few moments before he snapped out of it, holding your gaze as he seemed to come to a conclusion. 

“You can’t be under your father’s control once you’re married,” he pointed out. 

At first, you didn’t understand. You raised a brow, a little peeved he was bringing it up, and nodded once. 

“I suppose so…,” you agreed, a hint of a frown on your face. “But I’m assuming we won’t be getting married after this, so I’m kind of shit out of luck.” It was the first time you’d really sworn like that in front of Levi. In front of anyone. It was nice. 

Levi tensed up a little and broke his eye contact with you to look away, and you could have sworn he looked a little flustered. There was a hint of pink at the tips of his ears, which shocked you.

“What?” you pressed, also feeling a bit of heat creep into your face. 

This wasn’t happening. No way this was happening. 

Levi hadn’t wanted to marry you even when it was basically required of him. 

Your hopeless romantic little heart was just playing tricks on you. He wasn’t possibly going to suggest… 

“I gave my word and I don’t intend on going back on it,” he said, still not looking at you, ears still pink. “Got any better ideas?” 

“Captain Levi…,” you began, but then trailed off, not knowing what to say, until finally you managed out, “You don’t have to do this.” 

He scoffed a little, eyes finally flickering back to you. Tentatively, he stepped forward until he was right in front of you again. You stayed perfectly still as he lifted a hand to place it on top of your head, giving you a small pat before ruffling up your hair. 

“I have something for you,” he said suddenly, taking his hand away to reach into the pocket of his coat. 

And then your favorite novel was in your hands, a little more crumpled up than usual but basically intact. 

Tears sprang to your eyes and you hugged the book to your chest gratefully, looking to Levi with nothing but adoration. 

At that moment, it was all you owned in the world. You didn’t even own the clothes on your back. 

“That was really nice,” you choked out, gazing down at the book again with a small smile. 

Levi stepped forward again, closing the distance between you as he rested a hand on your shoulder again. 

“Let me protect you,” he said, tone filled with an air of finality that you couldn’t argue with. “I know I don’t have to.” 

He didn’t have to say the actual words; you understood what he meant. 

I want to. 

-

Marriage was all about compromise. 

In the end, Levi didn’t get to prolong his nuptials, since marrying you had to be done quickly. However, it also had to be done in secret. So, at the very least, you figured he at least got half of his wishes respected. 

The moment the ink was dry on the certificate, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. You shed your maiden name to gain a new surname, fully protected from your father now and fully backed by the Survey Corps. It was your 30th day of knowing Levi. Your 1st day of being married. 

You took in a deep breath as Erwin took the document from you to sign as a witness, and you turned to Levi with a small and timid smile, which he actually tried to return. It was brief, but it was appreciated. And when he lifted his hand to pat your head affectionately, you melted a little.

“I’m sorry you didn’t have a big wedding like you wanted,” he murmured, eyes staring at you with a hint of remorse. “I should have never made you agree to that before.” 

A half-smile tugged at one corner of your mouth and you shook your head, nudging your shoulder to his playfully. 

“I never really wanted to have a big wedding,” you admitted to him. “I just wanted to have a special day for myself. And for my husband, of course. Didn’t have to be a big thing. It just needed to be special.” 

Levi seemed to lighten up at that, giving another brief smile before murmuring, “That’s a relief.” 

“What do you mean?” you asked, but he didn’t respond, choosing instead to stand up and offer a hand to help you on your feet as well. 

You smoothed down the cream dress Greta had so kindly let you borrow and followed Levi out the door, head held a little higher now that you were an official Ackerman and nothing else. Instead of going to Commander Erwin’s office to go over a few next steps like originally planned, you found yourself following Levi outside. 

“Where are we going?” you asked, puzzled, but Levi scoffed a little and turned to look at you from over his shoulder. 

“If you could just be a little patient, I promise you’ll find out soon enough,” he said. 

It was a beautiful day, you had to admit. The spring temperature was perfect and you basked in the sunlight, feeling freer than you’d ever felt before. 

You stepped onto the grass in the courtyard, eyes towards the sky, and it wasn’t until you heard several people clear their throat that you tilted your head down to take a look. 

Your heart nearly stopped as you saw Erlo, Greta, May, and Charlie, and some of Levi’s friends, sitting on the grass, a spread of what looked like a marvelous lunch in front of them. 

Shouts of congratulations were passed around and you lit up at the sight, heart feeling full as you stumbled over while dragging Levi along. 

You turned to him, eyes bright and excited, still not quite understanding. 

“What is this?” you asked, looking between your bubble of friends and your brand new spouse. 

Levi looked a little uncomfortable, but in that cute way, and Greta beat him to the punch with the answer. 

“It’s your wedding day, so we’re celebrating, of course!” she laughed, then nodded towards Levi with a cunning grin. “It was your husband’s idea.” 

Levi’s entire face flushed at the term but he also looked murderous at being found out. 

You grinned at him, feeling warmed at his gesture, and you made a mental note to pull him aside later for a real thank you. 

At that moment, you made do by sneaking a kiss to his cheek, fully appreciating the way he got flustered. 

-

Erwin had made up a new room for you at base and, after a full day’s worth of celebrating your wedding day, you were ready to fall into bed. 

The room was right next to Levi’s, which you appreciated. It seemed funny, almost, since of course spouses typically shared a room, but under these circumstances, that wasn’t very likely. 

You cared for Levi and you could see that he at least cared for you in some ways, but those feelings would need to be nurtured with time. 

The two of you were in front of your bedroom door, with you yawning up a storm, and Levi grumbling about getting you to bed. 

You burst into your room and made a beeline for your bed, not bothering to really look around at your new room or even change out of your clothes. As soon as you were on the bed, you felt your drowsiness start to overtake you. 

Before you passed out, you peeked over at Levi, who was getting situated at a desk. 

“Aren’t you gonna sleep?” you asked, yawning again, and Levi turned to look at you briefly. 

“Not for a while,” he answered finally. 

You frowned at that but didn’t argue with him, your heart bubbling over with so many questions and feelings that you just couldn’t hold in anymore. 

“Do you still dislike me?” you blurted out, face heating up at your lack of filter. 

Levi raised a brow, pointedly looking towards the new ring on your finger. Then, his gaze softened, and he leaned back in the chair he sat in. 

“No,” he answered. “And I was wrong for judging you before. I’m sorry I didn’t give you a chance sooner.” 

You stayed quiet for a moment, but kept your eyes on Levi, no matter how hard it was. 

“Do you think you’ll fall in love with me one day, now that we’re married?” 

You couldn't stop that question from tumbling out either, but you were too curious to feel embarrassed. 

Levi’s ears flushed pink, a cute new trait you were catching onto. He looked away from you briefly, clearly trying to find the right words, and he took so long to respond that you felt your heart start to sink. 

But then he stood from his seat and moved to kneel beside the bed, a hand reaching up to smooth some hair out of your face.

“Let me focus on protecting you first,” he said. 

His eyes were the softest they’d ever been. They gave you another answer. 

“I’m going to love you,” you promised him. You still couldn’t admit that you were actively falling in love. Not to him, not right now. But another time. 

“I don’t deserve that, after how I acted,” he whispered. 

“I’ll always forgive you,” you whispered back. “And I’m going to love you.” 

Levi moved his hand from your head to tuck you into the sheets a little better, avoiding your gaze. Neither one of you said anything for a minute, a comfortable silence falling between you like that afternoon in the parlor room. 

As you began to drift off, Levi’s soft voice filled your ears with one final promise. One that was meant more for him than for you. 

“I’ll figure out how to love.” 

You were too tired to notice how the sheets smelled like Levi. You were too tired to realize that the room was clearly already lived in and had typical possessions of a squad captain, from ODM gear to a desk clearly stacked up with documents. 

You’d been too tired to remember that your bedroom door was the right one and not the left one. You’d been too tired to notice that you’d opened the left door. 

Levi was too besotted by you to correct your mistake. 

Somewhere, a grandfather clock chimed as midnight struck. 

[joshslater]

Cross Contamination

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

I'm fucking furious. To most people Jack Wilson is a hockey hotshot, but to me he is just my wife's ex that can't let go. She said they had another encounter, but wouldn't go into details, saying it wasn't just his fault. She couldn't help herself, she said. Knowing how much she loathes him I suspect she was afraid of him turning violent. He is a star athlete after all, known to have punched more than a few players on the ice.

I know he's training at the stadium right now. That's how bad it has gotten, that I even know his schedule. I'm probably speeding getting there, but nothing else is important right now. I park the car in the huge, but almost empty parking. Neverending slabs of concrete to allow for the cars of thousands of cheering fans during game day. Well, I'm certainly not a fan. Still fuming as I exit the car and heading towards the arena I see him and a few others from his team running towards the same building from across the car park. They must be out for cardio or something. I stop and shout towards them "Hey! Jack!"

I can see them slow down a little, Jack saying something to them, and then breaking apart jogging in my direction while they continue at speed towards the stadium building. I remain still, just glaring at him as he closes in on me. He slows down quite a bit away and saunters towards me, still panting. He has an aura of smug superiority. He's good looking, despite his matted, sweaty hair and week-old beard. It's not just because he's in top shape, but he has that classic athlete chin cut, and mesmerizing eyes to go with it too. He's quite a bit shorter than me, and way denser and muscled, but I would bet my weekly martial arts practice can match him if needed. "Hey, cocksucker! You managed to find your way here," he yells back at me.

"I want you to know..." "Shut up"

I don't know why, but I can't look away from his intense eyes. It's like they can see into me, see every part of me. I'm frozen in place just watching him getting closer. "I said hey cocksucker. What are you waiting for? Go ahead and suck my cock." He says this as calmly as he can, never breaking eye contact. I don't think he blinks. I don't think I blink. I slowly go down on my knees,  grabbing the hem of his sweatpants, and pull down. I still keep eye contact, so I have to feel my way for the waistband of his underwear to pull it down too. I can feel the heat radiate from his steaming body. There's a smell of sweat, not the stale, musky kind, but from someone who showers every day and uses fresh clothes for each workout. He's professional and they got staff. I can hear his heavy breath as he is still recovering from the sprint. And I can feel a rather large cock in front of me that is erect, or at least a good way there. I grab it in my hands and guide the tip to my lips and begin to lick it. It doesn't really taste of much. I open my mouth and get more and more of his compression shirt wrapped abs and pecs in my view as I stare into his deep eyes, and take his big cock deeper and deeper into my mouth.

The tip reaches some point at the back of my mouth and I start to gag, making horrendous gurgling noises. I move back from him. "All the way. I want to be balls deep down your throat, cocksucker." I do as he commands, and push it in again, further. It's somehow much easier this time and my lips are tickled by his moist bush of pubes. I then start to work it, in and out, in and out. The noise I'm making is still horrendous. A wet, sloshy sound, and I hate it. "Yeah, you like that, cocksucker. Now, faster." I grab him by the hip and increase the pace. I get lost in the actions, like nothing matters but his cock, the noise, and his eyes.

I don't know for how long I was in a trance, but I feel him tensing up, pulling me tight to him, and shooting a big load of his cum down my throat. Suddenly the gaze that had held me like a vice breaks and he looks at my face rather than into my eyes. The spell is broken. I'm kneeling in a parking lot with Jack Wilson's cock down my throat, and my nose nuzzled into his pubes. His eyes suddenly widen, and his face turns into horror, like he is looking at a monster. Everything is going like in slow motion. I begin to push him away, to get his disgusting cock out of my mouth as he shoots his second load. Somehow in shock I manage to breathe in his cum. He pulls away from me as well, and his third load ends up just next to me on the concrete. "Fuck!" he says, visibly upset. "It's still in the bloodstream. Spit it out! Spit it out!"

I'm not sure I even have any in my mouth to spit out. It just went straight into my belly and into my lungs. Lungs that are desperately trying to cough up his spunky goo in phlegm-filled, deep whoops. "Fuck!" he shouts one last time, pulls up his sweatpants, and runs towards the Stadium building with one hand holding the pants up. I'm just folded over on my knees coughing and coughing while my mind is racing to make sense of what just happened. My chest is burning and I feel nauseated. There is the salty, bitter taste of cum in my mouth and a stench of athlete sweat as I gasp for air in between the coughs. I keep coughing, but less and less of substance is coming up. I spit out specks of Jack's spunk on the concrete in front of me, and realize what she had meant when she said she couldn't help herself. Did he fuck her? After what just happened I wouldn't put anything past Jack, and there is literally nothing I wouldn't forgive her for having done. She would have been helpless to stop.

I can feel my whole body burning as I get up from the concrete. I'm very aware how my clothes rubs against my body, like my senses have just gone into overdrive. Everything, every single muscle in my body feels sore. My head is spinning. Still coughing I stagger towards my car and get in behind the wheels. As I close the door the world goes silent. I can only hear my own exhausted panting. I'm confused about what is happening and feel sick as shit, but at least the world isn't spinning anymore. Somehow I must have been poisoned. What did he mean with "in the bloodstream?"

I start the car and carefully drive from the parking lot and out in the direction of home. Perhaps I shouldn't be driving at all. Crashing while driving is worse than crashing while sitting in a parking lot, but I really don't want to have to call anyone for help. Not after what I've just been through. I so sympathize with the movie cliché of a girl sobbing in the shower. I only want to cleanse myself in any way possible. To get rid of Jack from me. Even now I can feel the smell of athletic sweat, like it was clinging on to me.

There is a big pop accompanied by one of the chest buttons on my shirt shooting off in the car. The pop isn't so much heard as felt, as a reverberation in my body like someone just punched me in the chest, with dull spikes of pain in the joints. I swerve dangerously close to the side of the road. It feels like my shoulders pops into their sockets, like my chest just suddenly expands and the rest of my body catches up. There is no mirror I can look in, but I can clearly see something is off just by looking down at my body. What little movement I can make while driving the car feels different.

There is another big shift. Knees and hip joints this time, I think. I'm a little more prepared to handle that one without swerving, but this time I'm instead missing the brake pedal like the seat is set wrong. I scoot forward on the seat and reach the pedal. Now I'm getting real nervous what is happening. I'm almost home though, but I can feel my thigh muscles involuntarily flexing, my feet are hurting, and my stomach is gurgling like bad plumbing.

Her car is not home yet, thank God. I park mine as calmly as I can, screaming inside that I need to get inside and see what the fuck is going on. As I step out of the car I get a first inkling about the enormity of the changes. I almost trip stepping out of the car, and sit down again on the edge of the seat. The fabric on the trousers are straining, and I realize that my feet are probably hurting because they have swollen up inside the shoes. I try to kick off one of the sneakers, but it's stuck enough that I have to untie them. My movements feel off. It's not that it is hard to move. The opposite in fact, but different somehow. Me feet thanks me in relief as they are freed,

With the shoes off I awkwardly make my way into the house and step into the nearest bathroom. It's me in the mirror, of course, but me 5-10 years younger. I'm touching my face in disbelief. But this isn't just me regressed a decade in time. I was way taller than this then. Curious I unbutton the remaining buttons on my shirt and throw it on the floor. The chest and abs are not me 5-10 years ago. I've never looked this buff before. For one I've never had washboard abs, and the pecs and shoulders are wide and meaty. The arms more slender, though still muscular, and the core is built more for function than aesthetics. A bit too dense for the show off V shape. Dense, with a low center of gravity.

It's the body of a hockey player.

I rip off the straining trousers and the socks. Sure enough, massive leg muscles, big thighs, big ass, big feet. Jack the fucking cheater is a fraud in all areas. Whatever the fuck he is taking must have concentrated in his balls, shot into my lungs, and from there gone straight into my bloodstream to do whatever the fuck it's done to me. And there is nothing I can do to hurt him with it. Who would believe me? This is so far from any science I've heard of.

I take a closer look in the mirror again. Perhaps it isn't all bad after all.

[saphirered]

Hi welcome back! Hope you’re doing well. Random question b4 my request, bc I want to give back as thanks for the great writing: are you a coffee, tea, or hot chocolate/cocoa drinker? I prefer hot chocolate and sweet tea.

How would the m9 respond to an SO/friend with a kid? Where the reader is a single parent with a child of at most 10 years old. Thanks :)

- 🐋

This took a while to write so sorry for that 😅. I'm so glad you like my writing! I love writing for you lot. I'm definitely a hot cocoa person. I hope this one turned out to your liking 😘.

----------

Caleb:

You never hid the fact you had a child from Caleb, if anything you’re proud of them. Though, you do know in certain company it’s better to keep that fact a secret for safety reasons. Caleb understands that fully he respects and admires you always put your child’s best interests first.

This is why when you began getting more involved with Caleb you kept your child out of it and took a good amount of time before introducing them to the wizard. You didn’t want to set expectations for both sides and wanted to protect and preserve them both should what you and Caleb had going not work out after all.

It’s no surprise Caleb is good with children. He takes a gentle approach when it comes to all things good in this world to the point of almost being afraid to ‘ruin it’. You assured him many times he was in the clear and how could his heart not warm at the curiosity and search for knowledge your child was already displaying.

With your permission Caleb began teaching your child some things here and there. The theoretics of magic and eventually simple spells. The smile it brought to their faces while they worked couldn’t make you happier. Caleb definitely earned your child’s approval to stick around.

Beau:

At first Beau is surprised. She knows children come from somewhere of course. She’s not stupid but actually tying a child to their parent let alone being very close to that parent is a whole new story. Especially learning you raised your child on your own and seeing you want to provide what’s best for them definitely earns you her respect, not having a parent with the same motivation herself and all.

The day of introductions came along and as expected Beau is the most awkward, trying not to be a terrible influence and be on her best behaviour, makes her very much on edge. An perceptive child picking up on this awkward behaviour calling her out leaving her cursing like a sailor, then apologising for said curses, even less of a surprise. You had to assure her many times it was fine.

Beau makes a promise that no matter what, she’ll make sure you’ll be returning to your child and make sure they get the love and support they deserve. Growing up without loving parents is one thing. Growing up an orphan another. She’d do everything in her power to keep you safe.

It may have began with joking comments such as ‘finish your homework’ to ‘do the dishes’ and ‘be nice to your parent while I’m gone’ but it didn’t take long before Beau was helping them with their homework or cleaning dishes after you cooked.

Absolutely treats your child as someone capable of making decisions of their own and speaking for themselves. No baby voices or cooing like too many adults tend to do even to a child regardless of their age. Your child has thoughts and opinions of their own and for the love of all that is sacred, can speak for themselves. You’re glad Beau treats them with a sense of maturity.

Fjord:

Fjord may have done what can only be referred to as a spit take the moment you said you had a child. Clearly didn’t expect it but giving him time to recover and process he’d ask all sorts of questions. What are they like? What do they like? And of course the dreaded question about your partner.

Supportive Fjord for the win. After finding out you’re on your own he’d always have your back, checking in with you and making sure you’re doing alright amidst the stress of the world and raising a child in the mix of it all. He’d open up to you about his past and being raised without any kind of proper parental figure. What he wouldn’t have done to have someone like you around when it counted for him.

Introducing them went rather smoothly. Fjord is surprisingly good with children. While some might find him intimidating, he nearly melted when your child embraced him as a thank you for looking out for you. Fjord was happy to answer any and all questions your child asked.

Whenever you’d be swept away for a while having to leave your child in the care of your trusted ones, Fjord would tell your child to ‘have the wheel, sailor’ which they would return with a salute before biding you both goodbye. Fjord slowly transcended into a bit of a father role and none of you minded in the least. You were happy.

Veth:

When she spoke of her boy she left behind you pitied her. A child shouldn’t be without their family. They deserved to be loved and sheltered from the darkness of the world until they are ready. When you told her you had one of your own Veth really felt safe to confide in you with her worries and troubles. You bonded over it really, drowning out all the sad stories and struggles with fond memories of both your families. Sadly for you, that would only extend to you and your child, the memories of their other parent perhaps somewhat painful to share.

You wondered what it would be like if your children ever got to meet in person. Then the day came. Nicodranas really had a way of bringing families together didn’t it? First time may have been a bit strange, your child being fully aware of Veth’s need for a disguise with her son, played their part well. Both you and Veth may have wiped away some tears when Luc claimed your child their big sibling from now on, and you his third parent.

Work and life are a difficult combination for Veth. She wants nothing more than to be with Yeza and take care of her boy but as long as the world’s in peril and her other family needs her just as much if not more, she’ll have to leave them behind. Knowing that you and your child are with her husband and son when she can’t be eases her mind a lot and she’s forever grateful.

It goes unsaid that Veth’s time away from children and in the presence of adults, specifically the Mighty Nein may have left her a bit out of the routines of raising a child as shown by giving Luc and your child fireworks, promising them to teach them how to shoot a crossbow and more. You did have to hold her back a little with the help of Yeza and keep things a bit more contained for their safety, but mostly yours.

Jester:

Of course upon learning you’re raising your child all by yourself Jester goes onto a rant about how her and her mom were always alone and how Marion used to read stories to her and do you read stories to your child and do you sing to them and draw with them and give them hugs and cuddles after nightmares and… You have no idea how that girl doesn’t run out of breath.

Jester couldn’t be anyone but herself when meeting your child asking about their interests, do they like to draw and sing and dance and… You ran out of breath just listening to her talk and your child replying in similar fashion. Everything went quite well and the two of them got along. Jester would be singing them songs and teaching them how to draw resulting in many dick drawings randomly appearing in your books, notes and other places, followed by mischievous giggles.

Having bought your child a lovely green cloak and letting them pretend they’re the Traveler here to spread mischief and fun and leave behind many phallic shaped objects drawn and carved wherever possible sent you all in laughing fits but you swore you heard a more masculine chuckle and saw a green cloak fade into the shadows. Odd.

What only can be summed up as the combination between big sibling, fun wine cupcake aunt and mom, remained a constant in your life and you couldn’t be more thankful to have that ray of sunshine be there for all of you.

Caduceus:

Caduceus is very calm and collected about learning you have a child. Less of a response than perhaps anyone else perviously unknowing. “That’s nice.” He’d nod. You’d almost start thinking he may have been able to read it off you for some reason. He confirmed he was, the tired eyes, and the recovery of exasperation at times but sense of accomplishment and reward was a look he had seen from his own mother many times.

“You’re weird.” A stare down ensued. “You’re weird too.” Eyes sharpened. “I like you.” The ice broke and smiles followed. For a moment you were afraid that maybe your child wouldn’t like the odd firbolg and thinking about how you would keep friends and family separate but a wave of relief went over you knowing that all was well between the two most valuable people in your life.

You’d be handed a fresh cup of tea by your child, a plate of snacks by Caduceus, all too innocent smiles on their faces but all it took was a raised eyebrow from you to have them come clean about the kitchen being covered in soil from the two of them potting new plants, turning your home and garden in what can only be described as a greenhouse and rather ask for forgiveness than permission. You weren’t mad of course, but did make them clean the mess they made.

You’re still unsure whether or not it was a good or bad idea introducing your child to the extended Clay family as you got some insight in the chaotic prank wars between the siblings and all together sibling rivalry among some of them. It’s all fun and games of course but some moments you were glad you weren’t the one pelted with mud pies by Calliope or pushed into the spring by Calliope herself. Instead you could just enjoy Clarabelle’s bug collection with your child while laughing at the other’s being covered in mud and soaked to the bone.

Yasha:

Poor Yasha doesn’t recall much of a family. In reality she never really felt like she had one until the circus, and after them the Nein. When she saw you and your child together, the unconditional love you had for each other, she felt like she finally realised what she had been missing, and something she perhaps would never have. She learned the value of such a relationship.

Yasha has no idea how to interact with children at any level and by default tends to treat them as either adults, or cute animals. No in between. It took her some time to get the hang of it but you couldn’t deny both you and your child rather enjoyed the unconventional relationship.

The wastes and hardships of Xhorhas may force a child to grow up quickly in the tribes but that doesn’t mean children outside of those regions have to learn how to wield a sword and what bugs you can and cannot eat or how to best skin an animal before eating it… It took some convincing why that was not a necessary skill to learn at the tender age of ten.

You compromised with Yasha on the fighting in the end, persuaded by the woman and your child to allow her to teach them some fighting basics because someone’ has to have your back when Yasha’s not there. You did manage to hold them off on purchasing a sword perhaps too large for your child despite the ‘they’ll grow into it’ reasoning and instead settled on training equipment instead.

Mollymauk:

Oh Mollymauk, nothing surprises this one. He felt rather sorry for you going through the struggles of raising a child alone. He may not remember his own family but he’s traveled far and wide enough to know the hardships. He knows poor Toya and he admires you for being able to do what so many can’t or won’t.

It goes unsaid that Molly is perhaps the worst of influences when it comes to people but you’ve seen him interact with Toya before and know well enough he’s a kind and caring soul who wants only the best for those who can’t just yet fend for themselves. It’s a good foundation that leads to a better person. He jokingly claims himself proof of that through the carnival and him ‘being an absolute asshole’.

Molly’s soft side really does come out whenever he’s around your child. He doesn’t deliberately censor himself but tries to contain certain words and avoid certain subjects that should never be discussed around your child knowing you’d appreciate it and if he does let something slip and your child ask questions he’d gently explain it as certain things should definitely not be described in gory detail to someone of their age.

This circus man is not afraid to put on a show in any circumstance and will happily do so to cheer you or your child up whenever you’re feeling a bit down or overworked. Whether he’s making a fool of himself, giving you bogus card readings, juggle his swords or tell the most ridiculous stories ever he’d do it without a second thought because it brings you and your child joy. You’re part of his family and he’d go to hell and back again for you.