#asher is losing his mind

[therexasher]

Guys. Guys. GUYSSSSSS!!!! SOMEONE GET THIS MAN BEFORE I DO, BECAUSE WHO TF TOLD HIM TO LOOK THIS FUCKING FINE.

YALL IM A DAMN MESS RIGHT NOW, HELP, THIS AINT EVEN FUNNY ANYMORE, IM ACTUALLY LOSING IT!!!

His eyes.

His smile.

His lips.

His hair.

BRUH HIS EVERYTHING.

MWAH, CHEFS KISS.

WORDS CANNOT DESCRIBE HOW ABSOLUTELY DOWN BAD I AM FOR THIS MAN RIGHT NOW, THATS IT, IVE LOST IT, IM IN MY GRAVE NOW!!✌🏽🪦

[therexasher]

UHMMMMMMMMMM- PLEASE IVE OFFICIALLY LOST IT.

[thefirstknife]

What are the Tones?

Whomst've asked me this. You're fuelling my unending obsession, thank you.

I posted about the tones before! Most of it is listed in this post! But I'd like to add some stuff now that it's been some time since then.

The tones are noises made by the spires on Mercury (Lighthouses). Whenever someone dies, the spires emit a tone. They basically react to death in various ways, depending on how the death happens; there's different tones to dying to Light as well as different tones to a perma-death. This is peculiar because nobody could hear them except Brother Vance.

He made Trials of Osiris to study them (because it's an endless source of Guardians dying over and over). Mara knew about his research (Trials was accessed in the Reef in D1) and warned him to stop because it's dangerous. It's unclear why. Osiris did the same years later. As a matter of fact, Osiris was super dramatic about it:

"What I have discovered…" "…is dangerous enough to destroy every man, woman, and child in existence. You're meddling with forces outside your grasp," Osiris reprimanded.

The tones are interesting because they're still largely unexplained. Mara implied that they symbolise Guardians being attuned to Darkness and being able to wield it, which is true, but Osiris' reaction implies something more. And it has to be more, because Osiris detected the same tones as coming from the anomalies of the missing planets and from the Pyramids. Long post under:

In my previous post I also connected that to the fact that egregore seems to be emitting some sort of sound/frequency attuned to the same thing: anomalies, Pyramids and, obviously, to the source of it all (the Witness). So there's some sort of frequency in Darkness that is audible and comes from all places connected to the Darkness network (and that network manifests physically as egregore). And in this case, anomalies and Pyramids (and ships infested with egregore like Glykon and Leviathan) are fine; it makes sense that they link to the Witness!

But spires on Mercury? Why them? My bestie made a post recently after we went unhinged (again) because the same lore book that deals with the tones also makes a really strong implication that the Vex were deliberately led to Mercury by the Pyramid Fleet in the Collapse. There, the Vex drained Mercury of Light, hollowed out the planet and used its materials to make the spires (and the Infinite Forest, a simulation engine) and then they waited for the Pyramids to return. Which they did, in Arrivals.

To make things more complex, after Titan came back, it was confirmed that the Witness did not take the planets randomly. There was a purpose to each one being stolen. Mars was taken to search through our Golden Age and Collapse database in order to find where the Veil may have been hidden. This could've been just a random coincidence, but then Titan came back and we learned that the Witness wanted Ahsa dead because Ahsa not only knows the origins of the Witness, but also how to get through the portal (and who knows if she has any other potential powers to helps us get in there or help us otherwise).

Io is unclear, but there are many options; it may have been taken for the Pyramidion and Vex stuff which Asher got ahead of. It may have been taken to study the Tree of Silver Wings (the Witness had another seed it gave Calus in Lightfall), or it may have been taken to study the Traveler's past or the Light in general or maybe something else. The point is, there are options that we can understand.

But Mercury? Zero clue. The only thing that may have been of interest is the Infinite Forest, but Vance sealed it so if the Witness took Mercury for that and couldn't get into the Forest, then Mercury would've been useless and probably released sooner unless the Witness is just keeping it out of spite or thought that maybe it would be able to find a way inside. And of course... there's the spires and the tones. Mercury is somehow linked to Darkness and the Witness, it has to be, and we have no clue what the Witness wants with it.

Not only that, but there's another curious thing about Mercury, or rather, the anomaly of it. It was mentioned in Duality dungeon, by Calus. When Calus tried talking to the Witness on the Glykon, the Witness eventually responded and it told Calus to come to the anomaly of Mercury:

Through the Crown of Sorrow, the Voice in the Darkness called out to me, beckoning me to the absence of Mercury. At first, I feared the Leviathan would not survive the journey, as the Glykon had been rent asunder by a similar journey. By my Leviathan, it is strong. Its heart beats anew, and as it pierced the veil of creation... the Voice greeted me. There were such sights to behold.

So when Calus disappeared off the Glykon, he went back to the Leviathan and bolted straight for the Mercury anomaly in which he was able to communicate with the Witness. Why Mercury? Glykon went into the Mars anomaly. Why couldn't the Witness speak to Calus in there? Or in any of the other anomalies? Why specifically Mercury? This is driving me insane.

But if Mercury is somehow connected to the Darkness network through the spires, is it possible that it serves as some sort of a communications hub? Maybe that's why the Witness is still keeping it? And it still is! We can see it in Root of Nightmares, in the Witness' room. Titan is still obviously there as well because it came out before Titan returned, but Mercury and Io are still trapped. This is also confirmed by the tiny excerpt we can see from the TFS Collector's Edition which I talked about in here.

Or the reason for Mercury is something completely different. We have no clue why Mercury was taken and what's going on there and why the Witness called Calus there and why the tones happened and why are they the same tones that can also be heard from anomalies and Pyramids.

To fuel me even more, they decided to drop two lore pieces in Season of the Deep that relate to Mercury and the tones tangentially. I know literally everyone and their grandma thinks that Targeted Redaction is just there to be funny (and so did I at first), but I genuinely can't accept that as being just a joke. The gist of it is that Osiris has no clue who Vance is and that is, to put it simply, impossible.

Obviously Osiris did not like the Cult and they were annoying to him, but he knew Vance. He spoke to him only once, but Vance is the one who told him to "plant the seed," a message that Mara gave him years before. This literally sets up the entire Season of Arrivals. Not only that, but Vance told Osiris about the tones and Osiris was deeply troubled about them. He's the one who continued the research and went around the solar system after planets disappeared, investigating anomalies and discovering that they emit the same tones. He mentions Vance, by name, twice in Immolant:

"Do you hear that?" Osiris asks, turning to Sagira. He turns the ship's scanning array toward the anomaly. "Like the tones Vance described. From the spires, and then the Pyramids. It was coming from the anomaly that replaced Io as well."

"We could use the Crucible right now. Your trials. This will be very helpful. You mean to stay, yes?" "I will. Long enough to show you how to implement the simulation; but tonight, I must disembark," Osiris says. "So soon?" Osiris tenses his jaw in forced silence. He twiddles with code. "I'm worried about what Vance found."

At the same time, Osiris also sends us the seasonal artifact from Hunt, Fang of Xivu Arath. In it, he mentions:

The zealots that followed me to Mercury have proved themselves useful… twice now, actually. They possessed an artifact in their stores: a Hive fang.

The zealots being useful "twice" refers to Vance telling him about the seed and having this artifact kept safely in the Lighthouse (technically, it's three times: in Curse of Osiris, Vance told us where to find the machine to bring Sagira back and it was being kept by the Cult, but it's unclear if we told Osiris the details). Osiris, again, specifically mentions Vance when he recounts where he got it from, in Immolant:

Sagira had chided him for storming the Lighthouse and ransacking Vance's possessions. "They're my relics," he said to silence her protests.

I know Osiris has been through a lot, but his memories are completely and perfectly intact... Except for Vance. That's bizarre to me, given that there's several important points that tie them together, like planting the seed on Io (something he wouldn't have known to do without Vance relaying Mara's message) and research of the tones, something that Osiris spent a lot of time doing and was explicitly worried about; so worried, in fact, that he was willing to part ways with Saint just to continue that research.

In my old post I also mentioned how Osiris even went to Ana to tell her to ask Rasputin if he heard any tones in the Collapse, but Rasputin wasn't up yet. And when Rasputin was finally up, we had much bigger problems to deal with so I assumed that Osiris never asked because the priority was to find what's on Neptune. But now I think that Osiris didn't ask because he doesn't remember. Because the memory of Vance and tones and whatever they mean was deliberately removed from him while Savathun had him imprisoned. Or, perhaps, the Nezarec tea messed with it. After all, Darkness is memory.

This would obviously imply that the tones are something so important and dangerous that Savathun (or someone else) wanted Osiris' knowledge of it removed so that maybe she could have leverage or to know something we don't or perhaps for some other purpose by some other actor. This was such a big point that the entirety of Immolant part 1 is almost exclusively dedicated to Osiris inquiring into the tones.

Another possibility is also that Osiris' memory of Vance was messed with because of Io and the seed and Tree (and then as a consequence, obviously, he would also forget about the tones).

There's also a possibility that Savathun is literally right now messing with me and she did it for no reason at all just to generate imbaru or mess with Osiris or maybe she even wanted to do one nice thing for him and remove the memory of the weird Cult and the tones aren't important at all.

But I don't know. The fact that they're the same thing that the whole Darkness network uses and that ultimately leads to the Witness seems like something that should be important. However, I don't think Mercury will return before TFS, especially since TFS CE has Eido writing about how Mercury is still in the Witness' grasp. But, consider also that we don't know the timeline of when Eido's writing is set. It has to be set after Ahsa's reveal about the Witness' origins, but before TFS. We don't have enough information to tell more. There's also Vex shenanigans to consider, something that will certainly be a plot point post-TFS and Mercury is a prime location for that.

Either way, there's something going on here, added also with the second lore tab release in Season of the Deep that tangentially ties to Mercury, which is Unexpected Resurgence. In it, Shayura is approached by Sister Faora, an incredibly niche character who was leading the Cult of Osiris before Vance. She's shown still wearing the insignia of the Cult. We never learned why she stopped leading them and why Vance took over; she just kinda disappears from the lore book (Trials and Tribulations, the one about the tones). But apparently she's in the City and she's still wearing the Cult robes and she's back in the story... for some reason??

It honestly feels like some sort of a setup for something in the future, something that might deal with Mercury's return. I need to stress just how small she is as a character: she only actually appears in three lore tabs before Unexpected Resurgence, all in the same lore book. The rest of her stuff is just flavour text on the Kairos Function armour pieces from Curse of Osiris. That's it. Why return her in Season of the Deep? Mind boggling.

This whole thing about the tones and Mercury consumes me every day and night. The fact that Deep mentioned Vance in a way easily dismissed as a joke (but also, note the name of the weapon: targeted redaction) as well as Faora coming back is just too wild to me to be a random throwback or a just a joke. Not when it's beyond clear that Osiris should remember Vance, the Cult, the tones and the rest of it. It's even unclear at this point if he remembers that he planted the seed on Io.

So what are the tones? What are they indeed. They're music from the spires of Mercury that reacts to death and uses the same frequency as the entire Darkness network with the Witness at the top. What is their purpose and what is the purpose of Mercury and why did the Witness take it and what is this plotline and when will it be resolved? Summary:

[isolatednights]

"When did you get this?" + reverse - because i'm not able to control myself eden&asher

he had claimed his own scars were stories of a past he wanted to leave behind, yet the man wanted to know each story related to the woman. hypocritical of him? absolutely, but asher couldn't help it. the little Q & A he'd endured days earlier had left him curious - resulting in him watching eden a touch closer than usual. nothing obvious, but perhaps his gaze lingered a bit longer - raking over any revealed swaths of skin and sending eris' dirty looks when the woman caught his quiet perusal.

wandering around relatively blind proved difficult when none of them could see upcoming obstacles and often left him carefully helping her and the children over or around them while eris and silas were left to fend for themselves. that day, he'd had to lift her and fingers had grazed a particular mark that had left his mind whirling. it was only when they stopped for the night that he worked up the courage to actually say anything. the kids were asleep - silas and eris were elsewhere, and hesitantly, he'd reached out to graze the spot. "when did you get this?" the question is a parrot of what she'd asked him, but turn about was fairplay, wasn't it?

[therexasher]

[caramelt4me]

Secret. - Part I

(Yandere Idol X Kidnapped Reader)

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

Prologue Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V

"Welcome to another episode of Guilty Files, the true crime podcast," a smooth, steady voice resonates from the speakers, breaking the quiet of the cabin. "I’m Liza Lee, and today, we’re diving into the twisted world of a once-revered artist whose obsession blurred the line between inspiration and imprisonment. Picture a cramped underground cell, buried deep where not a trace of daylight can reach..."

𝕋he words rolled over you as you popped another piece of chocolate into your mouth, the crinkling of the golden wrapper slicing through the eerie silence of the cabin. In your other hand, you gripped your tablet, eyes darting between the podcast on the smart TV across the room and the game on your screen. You tapped, swiped, keeping your character alive in a never-ending digital fight, but your attention waned, drifting back to the story Liza Lee was telling.

"Concrete walls press in like silent witnesses, their cold, gray expanse offering no comfort, no reprieve—only an endless reminder of isolation."

The imagery was haunting, yet somehow familiar. You shifted under the plush, oversized blanket draped over you. The half-crocheted flower bouquet beside you slipped down the side of the bed, one of the chunky needles clattering to the soft rug below, muffled by its thick fibers.

In this cabin, you had everything you could ever want. Soft blankets, a bed that felt like clouds, endless books, music, and streaming—all set up by the person who insisted you stay here. Asher, your lover. Or was he your captor? If you were being honest, the lines had blurred a while ago. He’d kept you close, away from your old life, the outside world fading like a dream. But he treated you so preciously, as though you were something rare, something he couldn’t bear to lose.

"But here’s the unsettling part—why was she taken? Was this about money? A ransom demand? Or perhaps the twisted satisfaction of a serial abductor?"

The voice from the podcast tugged your focus back, pulling you into the story of Mary Gomez, trapped in an underground cell. Your brows knit together as you listened. Mary had been taken, not for money or revenge, but because of an artist’s obsession. He saw something in her, something he needed to capture, even if it meant keeping her caged like a bird with clipped wings.

You tried to concentrate on your game, fingers dancing over the screen, but even that failed to hold your interest for long. In this luxurious prison of yours, you had come to know restlessness intimately.

However, it wasn’t as stark as Mary’s despairing cell. Here, there were warm fires, soft lights, books, snacks... every comfort, every amenity you could want. And he visited often, bringing you gifts, spending hours talking with you, looking at you as if you’re something exquisite, something he can never get enough of.

"Imagine your shock when I tell you that her captor wasn’t after money, vengeance, or some misguided obsession with power. No, the reason she was confined, cut off from the world, was far more chilling."

Your mind flitted to your lover, his face flashing in your thoughts—his deep gaze, that intense stare that seemed to see through to your core. You weren’t locked in here, not really; you could leave if you chose.

But whenever the thought crossed your mind, his face, his words, his touch all came back to you, lingering like the faintest, sweetest perfume, coaxing you to stay.

This wasn’t a prison, you tell yourself. Not like Mary’s.

And yet...

"Her captor was none other than Ethan Hawthorne, the celebrated artist whose portraits once graced galleries worldwide. And his only motive? She refused to be his muse."

Liza’s voice felt sharp, unnervingly close to your situation, though you quickly shook off the thought.

Your blanket slipped further, leaving your shoulders cold, so you drew it back up, cocooning yourself in its softness. You glanced around the cabin, absorbing the contrast—the wide windows that open to endless forests, the soft, golden lights casting a cozy glow, the warmth that lingered in the air.

But beneath the comfort was an echo of something else.

How different, really, was your situation from Mary’s?

You shifted in bed, restless, caught between enjoying the comfort around you and feeling trapped by it. The podcast droned on, the story growing darker.

"Ethan, obsessed with preserving her raw, unyielding spirit, imprisoned her in his hidden studio, using her as his living, breathing canvas. With every stroke of his brush, he drew from her the emotions she tried so hard to hide—hope, despair, defiance, and, eventually, resignation."

A shiver ran through you. The parallel wasn’t lost on you. You had felt his eyes on you just like that, watching, waiting, always intent, as if he was trying to absorb every nuance, every fleeting emotion. But he wasn’t a mad painter, you tell yourself. You weren’t his muse.

Yet here you were, tucked away from the world, drawn deeper into his orbit, just as Mary was.

"Then came Ethan’s final piece, hauntingly titled Peace. The painting was his last, capturing Mary in a moment of final, tragic release—her last act of agency."

Your finger paused mid-swipe, frozen above the screen. You think of Mary’s tragic end, of the way she lost herself to him, bit by bit, until there was nothing left. And how Ethan, too, met his end shortly after. Your heart raced, and for the first time, you wondered what your lover might do if you ever tried to leave, if you ever finally grew tired of his quiet, smothering devotion.

"This is the story we’ll unravel today, piece by piece, exploring the mind of a madman and the victim who became his tragic masterpiece."

The podcast hummed on, filling the room with its haunting tones, but you barely cared to listen anymore.

Minutes blurred into hours as the voice from Guilty Files looped again and again due to the auto-reply setting – like a haunting lullaby as the night deepened and stretched into dawn.

You couldn’t remember when exactly you stopped feeling afraid, when the days of forcing yourself to stay awake, tense and watchful of his every move, faded into a quiet, almost comforting vigilance.

Your body hardly held up against the sleep deprivation anymore—the growing dark circles beneath your eyes, a permanent reminder of the restless nights.

A half-smile tugged at your lips as you realized how things have changed.

You once stayed awake out of sheer instinct to protect yourself, to be alert in case you needed to run or fight. Now, it was almost the opposite. Without him here, sleep barely found you. Nights felt endless, stretching on with a kind of hollow ache in his absence.

You shook your head with a soft chuckle, wondering how those intense feelings of repulsion, resentment, and distrust had morphed over time.

You hadn’t erased them from your memory—no, the past lingered somewhere in your mind like a hazy bruise, its details blurry, softened by months of peace. But now, those feelings felt foreign, detached from who you had become.

It should feel wrong, this quiet dependency.

But instead, there was a numbness, a void that only grew the longer you were alone.

Without him, hours slipped by, each minute swallowed up by the white noise in your mind. The days bled together, your once-sharp memories of the outside world fading with each passing sunrise.

You shifted on the bed, feeling a strange pull in your chest, something close to yearning.

He had been the only person you had seen, touched, spoken to for over a year then.

The only one whose warmth had brushed against your skin, whose heartbeat you had felt under your fingertips, whose gaze had persisted on you like a steady, consuming flame. His scent lingered; faint but intoxicating, grounding you even in his absence.

His azure eyes could pierce through you, could see you in a way no one else ever had. And despite the circumstances – despite everything, the thought of his presence was enough to quiet your mind.

He was your lifeline, you realized.

But still, a flicker of doubt remained, persistent and insidious. A small voice whispered from some dark corner of your mind, wondering if, one day, you would end up like Mary and Ethan. If their story—so far removed, yet so disturbingly familiar—might someday become your own. The thought clawed at you, fed your anxiety, a spiraling threat you couldn’t shake. You closed your eyes, the intrusive thoughts circling, until—

A familiar voice, low and steady, broke through the fog.

“You’re still awake?”

You turn, eyes wide and heart pounding, as his silhouette fills the doorway. He was here. Just the sound of his voice pulled you back to yourself, the steady beat of his presence grounding you.

You remain frozen, eyes fixed on the partially open door, waiting for him to step into the room. It had been nearly two weeks since you had last seen him, and by then, you weren’t sure if it was just another trick your mind was playing to keep you company. Normally, you would have leapt up, rushing to the door to greet him, craving his presence like a lovesick puppy. But that night, fatigue held you down, a heaviness that stilled even your reflexes.

The podcast still played softly in the background, its dark tale echoing through the room for him to hear. The voice of the host was sharp, unforgiving as it detailed the spiral of obsession and control. For a brief moment, you considered turning off the TV, dousing the flames before they ignited something. But the small voice in your head urged you to let it play. You weren’t forbidden from watching what you wanted—but the choice of a story that cut so close to your reality would undoubtedly provoke him. And that night, some reckless part of you wanted that.

It had been a long time since you’d felt the fire of rebellion. These days, your resistance had dulled, your heart no longer set on escape. But a strange desire lingered to test his patience, to push him and see what might lie beyond that endless restraint he showed you. If he could shatter into the darker version of himself that you had glimpsed once, if he could give you a reason to feel that old, familiar defiance… maybe then you’d feel the spark to resist, to remember the drive to escape.

You finally heard his footsteps from the dim hallway, and then he was there – standing at the edge of the bedroom, his gaze locked on the TV screen.

He looked… different. The warmth that usually softened his features was gone; his face was unreadable, lips pressed tight, eyes focused intently on the flickering screen. In the pale glow of the TV, he looked cold, a shadow of the man you’d caught a rare glimpse of when he was with his manager. Mr. Baek was his name, you remembered.

But then, his expression shifted. His shoulders tensed, and you watched his throat bob as he swallowed, seeming to struggle against something unsaid. His azure eyes met yours, and for one wild, exhilarating moment, you braced yourself, expecting the crack of anger, the explosion of emotion you had tried to provoke. But instead, his gaze wasn’t clouded with betrayal or fury—it was softened, tingling with something like… worry.

A pang of frustration twisted within you, and you felt yourself frowning slightly. Every time you tried to defy him, to lash out or make him question you, it would be always the same.

Rather than reacting with the anger you expected, he looked at you with concern, as if worried you might have accidentally hurt yourself in the process. Your resistance had become something almost… childish, a temper tantrum to him, and he was the unshakable adult, the one who only wanted to make sure you were safe.

You were caught between loathing and surrender when he finally walked toward you, his expression softening further with each step. He reached the bed, his hands warm and steady as they brushed gently against your face, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch melted something deep within you, that stubborn knot of defiance uncoiling despite your best efforts.

“Are you mad at me?” His voice was barely above a whisper, raw and vulnerable. His eyes searched yours with a quiet, heartbreaking sincerity, like he was on the edge of breaking himself.

You opened your mouth to say something sharp, something that might salvage a piece of your independence, but the words catch in your throat.

“No,” you said instead, your voice small, subdued. You looked away, guilt creeping in despite yourself, a feeling that maybe letting the podcast play had been a step too far.

Maybe you had miscalculated the game, and were, instead of the satisfaction of resistance, were left with a hollow ache in your chest.

He leaned down, his lips brushing your forehead with a tenderness that nearly let you loose. “I’m sorry, baby. I kept you waiting for too long this time, didn’t I?”

The question hung between you, heavy and painfully intimate. You don’t answer, keeping your gaze fixed downward, hoping he wouldn’t see the storm of emotions threatening to break through. Your fingers clutched the edge of the blanket, grounding you, as you struggled against the pull of vulnerability he drew from you so effortlessly. In your silence, he lingered, his thumb brushing over your aching lips, a gentle reminder of the hold he had over you.

And as the light outside began to creep in, you couldn’t help but wonder if there was any part of you left that could still muster the will to leave.

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩��̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

@shadowytravelerlover

[undying-love]

Hi!! Could you make a compilation of all the times their relationship is compared to a marriage (or something similar), either by them or by people close to them?

"Marriage", "love affair", "girlfriend", "wife", etc: A Compilation

“I think it was like he was married to Paul. And now he was married to me so it was like a situation that he didn’t feel like he wanted to go back." (Yoko Ono)

"Why this odd little Japanese lady? The reason, many people believed, was that more than a trophy wife, a model or an actress, John needed a chum. His love affair with Paul McCartney was ending." (Peter Brown)

“That’s very hard to delve into. They were great friends, and had great mutual respect, but they were also quite different from one another. I don’t know. Human relationships are tough to analyze. It’s like trying to talk about someone else’s marriage.” (Peter Asher)

“I still think at the back of John’s mind was this fascination of wanting to get back with the first girlfriend... and that was to get back with Paul, who he had so much history with.” (Tony Barrow)

"It's like a marriage. These two broke up. And it took Paul a long time to get over it. John too, but he was just too macho to show it. But they had a marriage before Yoko arrived, although they both had girlfriends before." (Ray Connolly)

"It [Mick and Keith's relationship] had all the irrationally and passion of a love affair. Lennon and McCartney had a similar bond between them." (Marianne Faithfull)

"Paul and John kind of knew that they were growing apart, and Let It Be was almost like a marriage that’s failing, and they wanna go on their date nights again" (Giles Martin)

"There’s no hard feelings or anything, but you just don’t hang around with your ex-wife. We’ve completely finished." (Paul)

"Then also we were like married, so you got the bitterness. It’s not a woman scorned this time, it’s two men scorned — probably even worse. And I had to make way for Yoko. My relationship with John could not have remained as it was and Yoko feel secure.” (Paul)

"It was as if I was another girlfriend, almost. Our relationship was a strong relationship. And if he was to start a new relationship [with Yoko], he had to put this other one away." (Paul)

"I've compared to a marriage a million times and I hope it's… understandable. For people that aren't married. Or any relationship. It was a LONG relationship." (John)

"With Yoko present, Paul's reign as Lennon's princess was doomed."(Peter McCabe)

"In a marriage, or a love affair...there comes a point where the marriage collapses because they can’t face that reality, and they go seeking what they thought they should be having, still, somewhere else. I get a new girl, it’ll all be like that again; I get a new boy… But for all marriages, all couples, it’ll all be the same again. But what you lose is what you put into that… relationship." (John)

"..an old, estranged fiancée of mine called Paul." (John)

"Paul and John were emotional partners in a powerful, creative and loving way." (Paul Saltzman)

"Julian and Sean had lost a father; Cynthia, her knight in shining armour; Yoko, a fellow artist, contemporary and house husband … and Paul? Well, call me crazy, but he lost the wife. I’m certainly not implying anything of a carnal nature here, but to almost all intents and purposes (as John would have put it), what they had was a marriage.” (Ruth Mccartney)

"When John and Paul split up (think of them as a couple for a moment) their second mates had to stand by them." (Francie Schwartz)

"For a reason to hold a grudge [against Yoko], think about the possibility of this: She took John from him. And she didn't particularly want to share John with his "ex significant other" on certain levels." (Francie Schwartz)

[freedomfireflies]

Remedy*

Summary: An extra for Mine*

You've been feeling a little empty and needy lately. Thankfully, your mafia boss boyfriend happens to have the perfect remedy.

Word Count: 4.1k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞 You are much more important!*

Knock. Just knock.

Your fist shakes as it hovers near the door, heart thumping wildly in your chest from the impending implication.

Harry and Asher have been tucked away in Harry’s home office for over two hours now. You know they have a lot of work to get done, and an important phone call to sit through. And you don’t mean to disturb them, you really don’t. 

But there’s something…wrong.

The faint tingling and fuzzy sensation has been slowly sneaking up on you all week. Occupying more and more space in your mind as the days go by. You’ve wanted to talk to Harry about it, but he’s hardly been around. And when he is around, he’s on edge. And you don’t like pushing him to talk when he doesn’t want to.

But you’ve felt so…alone. So distant from him. He’s here…but he’s not. And you know he’s trying his best to be attentive. Remind you that he loves you and that you’re still his favorite girl.

 But it’s hard. He can’t put his focus into you and his work. He’s only one man.

Normally, you’re all right with that. After all, his job is incredibly important, and you’d never want to take him away from it.

However, the strange feeling in your head and in your gut has urged you to his office door today. And despite the way your mind is attempting to warn you that this might upset him, you can’t seem to help yourself. He’s the only one that can fix you. Fix this thing that’s gone wrong inside your body.

So…you knock.

There’s a brief moment of silence before you hear his voice call, “Come in.”

Somehow, even that rough, familiar drawl does wonders for the ache in your chest, and you nearly whimper as you twist the knob, and push your way inside.

Both men are looking at something on the desk as you hesitantly step further into the large space, seemingly unaware of your presence as they murmur quietly. 

And then…Harry looks up.

“Hi, mama,” he says before glancing back down at the table. “You doin’ all right?”

He’s distracted. They both are, focus solely on the array of papers, documents, and blueprints sprawled before them. 

You nod, hands gathering in front of your stomach nervously. “I’m…I’m okay.”

“Good,” he replies, omitting to look at you this time around. “Do you need anything?”

You nod again, an anxious whine getting trapped in your throat. “Mhm.”

“What?”

You stare at the concentrated man a moment longer before you finally find the nerve to step closer. “You.”

His head lifts, eyes flicking to yours from across the room as Asher leans back in his seat and glances over his shoulder.

“What?” Harry repeats, tossing his pen onto the desk as he straightens up. “What’s wrong?”

You swallow thickly and glance down at your fingernails. “M’just…I don’t know. Something doesn’t feel right.”

“What? What doesn’t feel right?” he asks a bit sterner, voice laced with apprehension.

You bob one shoulder up and clear your throat. “I just…it feels really…wrong. It feels…feels empty.”

You catch the way Asher’s eyebrow raises as he looks toward his boss, while Harry crosses his arms and settles back into his chair. 

“Empty?” he repeats, studying you closely. “Empty how, honey?”

You look toward your feet, toe digging into the floor to avoid his scrutinous gaze. “Don’t know, just…I feel wrong. Like something’s missing, like…like I miss you. It hurts.”

You see his expression soften as he nods once himself. “Missing me is hurting you?”

Your eyes fall to his chest as you mumble, “Mhm.”

“Oh, sugar,” he sighs. “Are you feeling a little lost? Did Daddy lose you?”

With a small sniffle, you whisper, “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He contemplates this, tongue running over his bottom lip. “You feel empty, is that it? Need something to fill you up?”

The mere suggestion has you straightening eagerly, thighs already squeezing together as you say, “Yes. Yes, please.”

He smiles to himself, sneaking a glance at Asher before he motions for you to approach. “All right, honey. I’ll make you a deal, yeah? As long as you’re quiet, you can come sit on my lap while Asher and I finish our discussion. How’s that?”

However, you’re already halfway across the room, nearly flinging yourself onto his thighs as he scoots back to welcome you in.

Once sat, he chuckles and loops his arm around your waist to keep you secure, fingers settling atop your leg as you nestle back into his chest.

“Better?” he murmurs, lips ghosting your shoulder as you hum contently.

“Better,” you whisper, snuggling into his warm embrace. “Thank you.”

“Oh, don’t thank me yet,” he tuts, tossing a smirk toward his right-hand man. “Said you needed to feel full, yeah?”

You perk up.

“Well…I can’t exactly help with that right now,” he explains, his touch moving for the soft hem of your dress to encourage it up. “But you can. So, I want you to take your pretty little fingers and fill yourself up for me, okay? Get ‘em nice and warm for me until after our meeting, and then we’ll see how you feel.”

Your chest just about caves in, heart sinking to the depths of your stomach as you whimper and look over at him. You don’t want your fingers. You don’t want him to finish his meeting. You want him. All of him. Right now. Always.

“Uh-uh,” he warns, eyebrow cocking up. “None of that. You said you felt empty, and I’m giving you an answer. If you can’t be grateful, then I’ll send you back out there. Is that what you want?”

You feel your lips pull down into a pout but he merely clicks his tongue, unfazed.

“No,” you finally breathe right as he hooks onto the band of your underwear to help pull it down your thighs. “Be good. Promise.”

He hums, nose nuzzling into your neck. “Good girl. I know you’re feeling a bit floaty today, so I need you to trust me, yeah? Trust that I’ll take care of you, bring you back. Can you do that, honey? Can you trust Daddy?”

The use of the dominant title makes you squirm over his lap as your cunt is exposed to the room.

“Yes,” you whisper, nails scratching down his arms in an attempt to keep his hand between your thighs. “Yes, I do. I will.”

“Good,” he murmurs before slipping himself from your grasp. “Go on, then. Warm those pretty fingers for me, okay?”

With a deep breath, your eyes trail down to where Harry is gently pulling your legs apart, creating a bit more space for your hand.

Then, he lets go, and you nearly wilt as you crawl your touch toward your cunt.

Truth be told, you’ve been soaked for days. While Harry has been rather distracted and distant, he’s not forgotten to offer a few teasing touches or taunting words throughout the week. Even when you sleep, his knee seems to find itself against your pussy, subtly grinding into it until you wake up drenched.

Or when you come out of the shower, he makes sure to smack your ass or press a kiss to your bare back on his way out of the room. 

So it’s easy for you to slip your finger inside now, the much smaller digit pushing past your walls until it can settle inside your cunt.

And it is good but it’s not what you’d needed, and you writhe a bit across his leg before huffing.

“What’s the matter?” he asks, glancing down. “Don’t you feel full now?”

You shake your head and pout.

“No?” he nearly taunts. “Need another?”

Your response only comes in the form of a sigh as Asher smirks.

“Then add another,” Harry instructs, jutting his chin forward as an instruction. “Go on.”

Left with no other choice, you do, your ring finger effortlessly slipping in beside your middle one as you release a deep breath and will your body to unwind.

And once the ache has begun to subside—barely, but still enough to satiate you—you sigh with relief and allow your lashes to flutter closed.

Finally settled, Harry tightens his arm around your waist and returns to the discussion at hand, seemingly convinced you won’t cause any further trouble. “And how’s Parker?”

“He’s good. They don’t suspect him yet but he’s working his way up.”

“And we still have contact?”

“For now, but he’s worried that once he’s infiltrated the inner circle, it’ll be a bit harder to make the drop.”

Harry clicks his tongue in thought. “Are they still tailing him?”

“Not from what I can tell, but I wouldn’t be surprised. They don’t trust him yet.”

“I’ll ask him on the call,” Harry decides, and you open your eyes in time to see Asher nod. “He’ll need to go dark if this is going to work.”

“I agree,” Asher replies, running a hand through his hair. “Do you trust him to do that?”

Harry shrugs and allows his focus to drift toward your legs. “Not exactly. But that’s why we have our alternate plan.”

You’d been trying to be subtle about it, but both men seem to catch onto the way the heel of your hand has begun to grind down against your clit.

It’s not exactly your fault. Hearing them talk about their work has always been rather erotic, and today is no different. Despite the position you find yourself in, you still need more. So much more than what Harry has allowed you, and you can’t help searching for it. 

But Harry tsks when he realizes, snatching hold of your wrist to bring the motion to a stop. “Mama…what did I say?”

You wiggle across his thigh and rest your head back onto his shoulder. “Need…need it—”

“No,” he says simply, tightening his grasp. “Did I tell you to do that? Or did I tell you to keep them warm?”

You pout, gaze trailing across the desk to Asher, who watches with an amused smile.

“Warm,” you finally answer, your voice small and rather desperate. “Just…s’not enough. Need…need more.”

“More?” Harry repeats, looking to his partner as well. “Feeling greedy today, hm? Your fingers not enough, mama?”

You shake your head quickly and turn your face into his neck. “No.”

“I see,” he whispers, lips ghosting across your forehead. “Then what do you need?”

You whine again and push a bit deeper into your cunt. He knows exactly what you need but he loves to hear you say it.

“Do you need to add another finger?” he pushes, moving to tap your knuckles. “Would that be full enough?”

Again, your head moves back and forth fervently.

Asher chuckles under his breath.

“No?” Harry taunts, and you can feel him grin against your skin. “Why not?”

“Too small,” you mumble, nudging your nose under his jaw. “They’re too small…please.”

“Too small, huh?” His palm runs down your arm until he can intertwine his hand with yours. “Do you need my fingers then?”

You go deathly still when you feel him travel his touch between your legs.

He pushes one large digit in beside yours and you gasp as the sensation travels up the length of your spine.

And it is so much fuller but even with three fingers inside your neglected cunt, the tingling, empty feeling remains.

“How’s this, hm?” He begins to stroke your walls softly, ignoring your attempts at squirming. “S’this enough?”

“No,” you breathe, looking down at where his tattooed arm lays beside yours.

“No?” he repeats. He’s far too entertained by this interaction and the cocky glances between him and his second-in-command certainly don’t help you. “What about two, then?”

He adds a second digit, ghosting it through the arousal pooling between your thighs and dripping down onto his pants. 

You’re moaning before you can stop yourself, eyes squeezing shut as you reel. He’s so warm, and strong, and safe. And being cocooned by him is everything you’ve been needing this past week.

“Harry,” you whimper, your other hand gripping onto his shirt to brace yourself.

“How’s that?” he asks again, pumping himself in beside you. “D’you feel full now, mama? Gonna let me finish my meeting?”

It is full. So deliciously full and sweet but it can’t comfort you the way you need. Can’t aid the ache that continues to reside deep in your belly, and you frown as you attempt to thrust up into his touch.

You whine again and take a deep breath, looking for the courage to speak up. But your throat has gone dry, and this overwhelming sense of urgency has overtaken what little common sense you had left.

“Still not enough, huh?” he hums, curling his touch up until you gasp. “Then what are we gonna do, sugar? How are we gonna fix this?”

You wiggle back into his chest once more, your ass grazing the growing bulge beneath his pants almost mockingly.

“You,” is all you have the strength to say. “Please…please, Harry.”

“Me?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow. “You already have me, mama.”

“More.”

“More of me?” he reiterates, and you nod, ignoring his condescending smile. “Oh. You need something bigger than my fingers, is that it?”

Another nod.

“Yeah? Well, why don’t you go ahead and ask me, then?”

You’d likely be frustrated with him if you had the mental capacity but as it is, your cunt does all the decision making for you.

“Need your cock,” you whisper, once again burying your nose into his neck as if to hide. “Please…please, need it. Hurts, Harry, please.”

“Need my cock to help you feel full,” he says, glancing down at you while you nod. “Oh, honey. Why didn’t you just say so?”

With that, he swiftly pulls his fingers from your pussy and grabs onto your hips, hoisting you off his lap and onto your feet.

Then, he turns you around.

“Take it out,” he instructs softly, curious but loving eyes meeting yours. “S’okay, mama. Can have whatever you want.”

Feeling rather giddy, you eagerly reach for his nice trousers, and undo the belt and button so you can slip inside.

A bit of shuffling follows as you pull him out and take him in your hand before kneeling onto the chair beside his legs.

He helps you along, settling you into a straddle while watching as you guide the tip of him through you. And the chills that explode across your back nearly have you twitching as you begin to sink down.

He’s rather coy and unbothered by the affair but even he can’t resist groaning softly as he helps tug you all the way to his lap. 

Your hands brace to his shoulders while your lips press into his neck. You allow your body to stretch around the large cock splitting you open, gasping when he’s sheathed completely. 

He releases a shaky exhale before wrapping an arm around your back and pulling your chest to his. 

“Okay,” he murmurs softly. “Gonna sit here and stay quiet for me, yeah?”

You nod as you cuddle into his embrace, cheek meeting his collarbone as you sigh. 

“Good girl,” he praises while reaching for the phone. “Asher and I have an important call we have to make. And I don’t want you to make a fucking sound, is that clear? Daddy’s gotta concentrate right now.”

“Promise,” you whimper, knees hugging his hips as you shift.

He hisses between clenched teeth when you do, smacking his palm against your ass. “None of that, either. Want you nice and still.”

Doing your best to stay relaxed, you nod quickly and snuggle further into his warm body. You’ll be good, you will. He’ll see.

You hear him sigh before he calls to his partner, “You ready?”

“Yeah,” Asher replies, his chair scooting closer. “Go.”

Harry’s finger punches into the keypad before the office fills with the sound of shrill ringing. But the moment Parker answers the phone, your eyes flutter shut, and you focus on the feeling in your tummy. Everything is so much better now. So much better and you almost want to cry with gratification.

However, you don’t want to upset Harry by moving or making any sort of noise, so you choose to settle into the comforting cadence of his touch and voice as sleep begins to carry you away.

You make it about halfway into dreamland when you suddenly feel him readjust in his seat, hips subtly thrusting up into you as a surprised pant catches in your throat.

But you remain quiet, hands fisting his shirt as you keep your muscles rigid and unmoving. He told you to be good, so that’s what you’ll be.

Then…he does it again. But this time, your clit is softly grazed by his abdomen, and you can’t help the desolate moan that comes free.

His arm tightens around your lower back in warning, forcing your throat to constrict out of apprehension…

…until he does it again.

You jolt, lip between your teeth as you begin to shake your head swiftly. You can’t stay quiet if he’s going to do this. If he’s going to fuck his cock into you while forcing you to remain unperturbed.

It’s cruel, and sadistic, and somehow…you expected nothing less.

“We’ll need to arrange a safe location,” Harry says to the man on the phone before he rolls forward and makes your nails scratch down his chest. “Make sure you aren’t being followed.”

“Copy that,” Parker replies. “Matthews has two on detail and three that take the night shift. There’s a small window between four and five a.m., but I’m not sure—”

You don’t hear the rest when Harry suddenly uses his grip on you as leverage to grind you down into him once more.

He’s trying to break you. Trying to find a reason to punish you. 

You know this is just as torturous for him as it is for you. You can feel him twitching every time you take a breath and subsequently flutter around him. Can feel his breath hitch whenever you sigh into his neck and rest your lips on the vein below his ear. Can feel his fingers pressing indents into your hips as he fights the urge to throw you onto the desk and split you in half.

But he won’t be the one to cave. After all, he promised to take care of you, and he’s trying his goddamn best to do that.

You’re just making it so hard.

“—which won’t be a problem,” Parker continues. “Unless there’s a complication with the shipment, in which case—”

“Fuck,” you mewl before you can stop yourself, the sound of your arousal coating Harry’s cock filling your ears.

But your outburst brings the office to a quiet halt as Harry licks his lips and grunts beneath a strained breath.

“Problem, sir?” Parker asks.

Harry’s nails dig into your side in yet another warning before he grits, “No. Not at all. Proceed.”

Parker does as instructed while Harry presses his mouth to your ear and mumbles, “What did I fucking say, hm?”

“Can’t…can’t help it,” you whisper back. “You’re being mean.”

“Daddy is not mean, little one,” he retorts darkly. “I’m providing you with a nice cock to keep warm and you’re disobeying my one rule. How is that mean?”

You whimper again and press your face into his chest. “Trying to be good, promise.”

“Are you? Doesn’t feel like it with the way you keep clenching around me. Thought you just needed to feel full, hm? Yet here you are, trying to use me to make yourself come.”

“No,” you argue softly, head shaking yet again. “No, swear—”

“—by the river. Does that work?” Parker suddenly calls, forcing Harry’s attention back.

“Yes. That’s fine,” Harry grumbles, and you peek out from where you’ve hidden yourself to see his reaction. His eyes are on Asher, brows furrowed and frown heavy. “We’ll send for your location then.”

“Copy. Matthews doesn’t seem to have the file with him, but I believe if I can—”

Harry thrusts up again, chest knocking into yours as you turn away and stumble over a rather depleted whine.

“There you go again,” he scoffs quietly. “Disobeying me after I’ve been so good to you. Should I have Asher put you in the other room? Make you sit there, all empty and tingly until I’m done?”

“No,” you just about gasp, arms wrapping around his neck almost as if trying to cement yourself to his body. “No, no, Daddy, please—”

“Thought I told you to be still,” he hisses, and you swallow thickly. “Think I can’t feel you trying to brush your little clit against me? Think I can’t feel your thighs shaking?”

“Mean,” you whisper, fingers tangling in the material around his collar. “Trying to be good—”

“No. No, I don’t think so. Think you’re trying to make Daddy mad.”

“Not. Swear—”

“Then stay fucking still,” he snaps as the call suddenly grows quiet.

“Sir? Still?” Parker repeats as your cheeks warm. “Would you like me to suspend the mission?”

“No,” Harry growls, turning toward the phone. “Not you. I’m dealing with something rather frustrating over here.”

And even though Parker can’t see you, the idea that he’s now in on the compromising position you find yourself in makes you shiver.

Of course, Harry notices, groaning to himself when he feels the way you tighten around him. “Fine. You wanna come so fucking bad? Then do it, mama. Come on my cock right now. Let the boys hear you.”

And perhaps on any other day, that thought would push you over, but today…it makes you whine. You don’t want anybody else to hear you. You just want him. You want the only person in the world who can satisfy this floaty feeling in your head. The only person who can make you smile, make you happy, make you feel full.

Truth be told, you’d like to crawl inside his skin and live there but you suppose having him hold you is as good as it can get.

Of course, he knows this. Knows exactly how to treat you when he’s lost you to your subspace. And while you know he’s keeping a careful eye on your mental state to make sure you aren’t being pushed past your limit, you also know he enjoys dragging you along for the ride.

You like when he gets rough—when he gets mean. Something about trying to please him when you’re feeling this vulnerable does something for both of you. It’s thrilling and just a bit frightening. You never know what might set him off and you live for it.

“What’s the matter, hm? Gone all shy on me?” he taunts in vicious sneer. “Thought you wanted to come, honey. Giving you exactly what you want and now you don’t want it?”

You do want it, you do. But you don’t want to share this with them. Don’t want anybody else to get in the way of you and him. Even if they’re simply sitting there listening.

“Go on,” Harry repeats sternly. “Don’t test my patience, mama. I haven’t much left to offer.”

His hands move to your hips in an attempt to help grind you over his cock and the moment his touch sears through your flesh, you gasp.

The first few seams of your orgasm unravel quite quickly as you release a loud and depraved moan. 

It rings through the room, bouncing between the walls until Harry’s touch tightens and you feel his chest vibrate with a rather barbaric growl.

You aren’t afforded the chance to wrap your head around the sudden turn of events before Harry is ripping you off his lap and slamming your ass onto his desk.

Out of your peripheral, you catch Asher standing up as well so he can pick up the phone and drop it back down to effectively end the call.

Once Parker is gone, Harry’s eyes flick to his second-in-command. “Get out,” he seethes, fingers already curling around your thighs as he spreads them. “Shut the door.”

Asher does nothing more than nod before turning on his heel and heading for the hallway, leaving the two of you alone.

And once you are…everything changes.

Harry’s hand finds your throat as he pushes you down into the wooden table so he can loom above you.

“All right, mama,” he begins deviously, face hovering only inches above your own.

You pant excitedly as his cock brushes against your clit. 

He smiles.

“It’s my turn now.”

Next Part:

~ Pillowtalk* (A Mine Extra)

~ Full Mine Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Taglist (If you ever need or want to be taken off, or simply excluded from certain fics like this one, please let me know!! 💞) : @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @vamprry @acesofspadess @stylesfever @narry-heart @virqinvirgo @keepdrivingkisses

If your tag doesn't show up, it's because your blog is empty, and Tumblr is really weird about that 😭 But I swear I tried!!

[therexasher]

FAM I JUST OPENED TUMBLR WHEN THIS POPPED UP, I DAMN NEAR DIED YO😭😭😭 HE LOKS SO GOOD THO, THE LIPS, THE LIIIIIPPPPPSSS!!! (I’m a mess.)

[isolatednights]

"When did you get this?" - eden&asher ehehe prepare yourself

between the turning weather and the lengthy days spent blind folded as they traveled in search of a more permanent home, it was rare any of the others saw him without a handful of layers on. they'd lucked out recently - finding a house with a working well and woodstove. it had been enough to convince eris and asher to stick around - to scavenge the nearby area and give everyone else a much needed rest.

with his clothes having been scrubbed clean in the bathtub and left to hang to dry in front of the fireplace, the man had sat on the bed that evening in nothing but a pair of sweats, remaining swaths of tarnished skin on display. getting comfortable on the mattress, he'd rolled to face eden - as if expecting the question now that she could properly see each puckered or raised mark.

even without looking, he can identify the scar - knows how it looks, how it was caused and why. fingers twitch at his side - a residual reaction from a man who once would have told another to leave well enough alone. but this is eden - and while there might once have been shame in admitting the truth, now.... now he almost wants to unburden his sins. speak them aloud and let them float away. "i wasn't a good man, before." a fact he's admitted to her previously. "got in with the wrong people young to work off the debt my dad got us into. needed a way to take care of my sister. first time my boss sent me out solo i got this. someone owed him money and was attempting to skip town. was told i needed to get payment one way or another." cash, assets or a life. "found him easy enough. easy to pick out skittish people. but he was nervous - desperate. tried to fight me, pulled a knife. have a few others scars from the swipes he tried," fingers rise to tap against a handful - all small little slivers of silver compared to the puckered mess eden had originally pointed out. "went for a hit i wasn't expecting and he stabbed me. ended up finishing the job a bit more messily than i should've. boss wasn't pleased - told me i could patch myself up. was the first time i'd ever done it for something more serious."

he had worse - not that he'd admit such a thing - not if she didn't ask. "'m covered in 'em. nothin' to worry about now. just stories of a past i'm not too proud of."

[therexasher]

pssst!

lil bro I have something super important to tell you….

Isn’t he just so FINE!?!!???

Anyway, I love you!

Byeeeeeeee

AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! BIG SIS, HOW COULD YOU? IM MELTING AT THE PURE SIGHT OF HIS BEAUTY, HES SO GORGEOUS 🤧🤧🤧✨✨🌟

[therexasher]

YESSSSS, I LITERALLY HYPERVENTILATE!! I WANT HIMMMMMM😩😩😩😩

This outfit does something to me. Idk what or why, but he is just… 😫🔥👑✨

[lynzishell]

The Past 💛 Atlas

Upstairs, the club is already full and alive with music and lights and people. While the others walk out on the dance floor, making their way toward the DJ booth, I stay back, allowing myself a few minutes to acclimate. I find a spot in the back, out of the way, and watch the crowd on the dance floor as they smile and cheer and dance, some goofing off and laughing with friends, others serious and focusing only on the music as they move. It occurs to me that it’s been years since I’ve been to a club. Dawn used to drag us out all the time when we were in college together, and I got kind of burnt out on it after a while, but I’m glad I came out tonight.

I look past the dancers to the booth and recognize the DJ as our co-worker Kamryn, her signature bright pink ponytail swaying as she dances behind the decks. I had no idea she did this kind of thing, but she’s good.

It’s not long before I find myself moving my head and shoulders to the beat, the rest of my body itching to be set free and move as the bass thumps in my chest and a familiar warmth radiates through my limbs. As I expected, the tablet Lex gave us contains MDMA and something else, and whatever that something else is multiplies the sensation and I feel it hit me all at once as my entire body flushes with heat and a gentle euphoria lifts my anxiety up and away.

I look around to try to spot Ash, and as if I manifested him with my mind, I see him walk out of the crowd right toward me. His black t-shirt is soft and thin and hangs on him just right, and my mind flashes briefly to the exposed skin underneath. Catching myself, I take a breath and look up quickly to see his playful smirk. “Are you gonna come dance, or what?” He asks.

“Yeah, I was just about to.”

“Let’s go then.”

He extends his hand to me, and I take it, letting him lead me through the crowd to the middle of the dance floor where the moving lights and loud music and energy of the dancers take over. I let it envelop me and flow through me as I let go and dance and become part of it all.

[music]

I look over at Ash and am immediately mesmerized by the way he moves, weightless and fluid. I’ve seen him dance dozens of times, and he always looks good, even when we’re just fucking around in his living room trying to make each other laugh, but this is different. His footwork is quick and smooth and hypnotic, his weight shifting, pulling him side to side, crossing over and back again. It’s a style so distinctly urban that I can’t help but wonder where the fuck in Brindleton Bay he learned to dance like that. I can’t take my eyes off him.

Part of me is tempted to reach out and pull him into me, but I also don’t want to interrupt him. I watch as someone else comes up behind him and tries to dance with him, but he shrugs them off and shakes his head, clearly wanting to be left alone to do his own thing. So, I leave him be and dance beside him, keeping my hands to myself. It’s probably for the best anyway… I have an image of Lex popping up between us if we get too close, as if I’m a teenager again at a church dance being monitored to “save room for Jesus”. Little did they know what Henry and I had gotten up to earlier that day. I smile to myself at the memory. He may have broken my heart in the end, but that day… that was a good day. It feels nice to be able to enjoy a happy memory without being dragged down by all the sad ones attached to it, even if only temporarily. I silently thank Lex for whatever she gave me… and thank myself for only taking half. The night is already starting to blur around me as it is.

Soon, a song comes in that drags me gently out of my wandering thoughts and wraps around me like a warm blanket. It’s beautiful, layered and flowing like waves, the beat quick but more subtle than the others, a welcome reprieve. I look over at Asher and he smiles at me, nodding; he likes it too. Letting the beat guide me, I close my eyes and move to the music, feeling it wash over me as I lose myself again.

[1:50] The song slows and gets quiet sooner than I’d like it to, but I take advantage of getting a moment to breathe. Ash is grinning up at me, and I get the distinct feeling he’d been watching me.

“What’s that look for?” I ask.

“Having fun?” He was definitely watching me.

I laugh a little, more flattered than embarrassed, “Yeah, you?”

He shrugs casually, but, judging by the size of his pupils and the grin on his face, I’d say he’s feeling as good as I am.

“Where’s Lex?” I wonder, realizing that I haven’t seen anyone else from our group in a while.

Ash searches the crowd for a moment before pointing to the far end. I turn to see her familiar mop of ginger curls, and smile when I see her laughing and dancing with her friends.

“Enjoying her birthday, I see.”

“Yep.”

[2:20] The music dips quieter as the layers are removed bit by bit. When I turn back to Ash, my smile falters as I look him over, the image of his shirt lifting up refuses to leave my mind, and my body trembles from the effort of holding myself back from reaching out to him.

My desire (or desperation?) must show on my face because he peers at me through his long lashes, gives me a playful grin, and asks, “What?” The way he says it comes out like a dare, and I watch as his eyes dip down and then slowly follow the lines of my body back up until they meet mine again, making my heart race and turning the last ounce of my willpower to dust at my feet.

[2:40] The music is starting to rise, so I gesture for him to come closer. When he leans in, my body reacts instantly, as if each and every individual cell is reaching for him, so I take his hand and I put my mouth to his ear and say the only thing I can think of to say, “I want you to kiss me.”

Our cheeks are so close that I feel the disturbance in the air between them as he smiles. He pulls back, and holds up a finger, telling me to hold on. I watch curiously as he listens to the music, nodding his head to the beat, as if waiting for something.

[2:55] A second later, he looks back at me with an excited smile, and in one swift motion, he reaches a hand to the back of my head and pulls himself into me. The second our lips touch, I feel the energy rush through my entire body as the music drops and the crowd around us erupts in cheers and dancing.

Maybe it’s the drugs, maybe it’s the music, maybe it’s him, or maybe it’s the combination of it all, but it’s the best kiss I’ve ever had.

Prev // Next

[penumbra-mayhem]

How to Trap an Alpha

— Asher & David & Angel Fic

This takes place about a month after the Inversion. It def goes against canon; I'm making everyone's response to the Inversion far worse (especially David, in this he didn't talk about the Inversion with Angel after it happened. Also I hc Angel as a transwoman, so expect she/her thx.)

Hope yall enjoy <3

TW: gore, panic attack, verbal fighting, grief, PTSD, flashbacks

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was Asher’s third mistake this week—and his biggest. It had cost David one of the few security gigs he'd managed to book since the Inversion, and David could only chalk it up to pure negligence. He called Asher into his home office; the sight of him sparked panic in David, but he swallowed it and growled:

“This is unacceptable, Asher.”

“I know,” Asher replied, wincing at the aggression in David’s voice, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry’s not going to cut it. You know how badly we needed this gig.”

“I forgot—”

“—you forgot,” David scoffed, “You need to do better, Asher. I'm relying on you. The pack is relying on you. If they don’t get work, they can’t pay their rent or groceries or medical bills—”

“—I’m trying, okay?”

“Well you’re clearly not trying hard enough.”

“Yes, I am. Your standards are just ridiculously high.”

“You’re the pack beta. My standards have to be high.”

“Well can you lower them a bit?”

“I’m not going to coddle you, Asher."

"I'm not asking you to coddle me, but I tried talking to you last week—"

"—and I told you to deal with it. I trusted that you would."

"You wouldn't listen to me! Ever since the Inversion you've been practically unreachable. I've been trying to tell y—"

"—I don't have the time, Asher. I have responsibilities. I have people to take care of. I'm the alpha of this pack!"

“You’re not just the fucking alpha!” Asher barked.

David glared at him, “What?”

“Could you stop being my alpha for one goddamn moment and just be my friend,” Asher pleaded, "I know you're not doing well. How could you? How could any of us? I’ve tried checking up on you so many times the past couple weeks. You just keep ignoring me. And not once—” he gasped, his chest tightening, “—not once have you checked on me.”

Images flashes in David's mind at the sound of Asher struggling to breathe: Asher's mauled chest—the layers and layers of exposed skin and bubbly fat, heaving and stretching as he fought for air. Crimson sludge pulsing out of him with each beat of his racing heart.

Asher’s gasped in between words, “I know you want to b-be strong for everyone, but sometimes your strength just c-comes off as indifference. I-I miss my friend! I need my friend. Not my alpha. Fuck, I didn’t know l-losing Gabe would mean losing you too.”

Gabe. It always came back down to Gabe. David balled his fists tight. He’d never escape his father’s death. Never step out from his shadow. He tried so hard to be like his father, and yet everything he did seemed to be the antithesis to what Gabe would do. He wasn’t his father. He never would be. Everyone knew that. Everyone doubted him. And now the one person who’d always had his back was losing faith too.

David stared as Asher backed up against the wall of his office, shaking and hyperventilating. Gabe wouldn’t have let him get to this point. Especially after what he just went through. He would’ve checked on him. He would’ve cared.

Asher's face rapidly losing saturation, so contorted with pain that he looked monstrous. No sense of recognition when he looked up at David. Just pain and fear. It was a look David had never seen on Asher before.

Asher spluttered, “I-I don’t think I can d-do this…fuck, I f-feel like I’m going to p-pass out.”

Gabe knew how to respond to tragedy. He knew how to compartmentalize. He knew how to be a leader and a friend and a father. Gabe knew what to do, always. David didn’t. David didn't know anything. He tried to think of how Gabe would've helped Asher and came up empty. Every day it was like the memory of his father faded a bit more. How could he emulate someone he was slowly forgetting?

And if Asher died, would the same thing happen? Would David lose bits of him? His voice? His laugh? His smile?

Asher was a whimpering, gasping ball on the floor of David's office. He clawed at his own chest, mentally trapped somewhere between the past and the present. David felt the same.

Trying desperately to heal Asher. Asher's core clawing at David's, like someone drowning seeking anything to hold. David's core grasping at Asher's as it slipped away like smoke.

I should leave, David thought, panic squeezing his throat, I should call his mate and let them handle it. They're better at this. Asher's better at this. Ash would know what to do. Dad would know what to do. I don't. I can't. I'm frozen. I jus—

Knock knock knock.

"Hey, David, is everything..." Angel asked quietly as she cracked open the door. Her face fell as she saw the look in David’s eyes, and then Asher on the floor to her right.

"What the fuck? David? David?" Angel sputtered, rushing in. Getting no response from her mate, she crouched down in front of Asher, "Ash, sweetie, what's going on? Are you hurt?"

"C-can't breathe. C-can't..." Asher managed.

Angel whipped her head to look up at David, "What the hell happened?"

"I...I..." David muttered before looking away.

She turned her attention back at Asher, murmuring, "Ash, you think you make it to the living room?"

Asher gave a slight nod. He swayed as Angel helped him up; the feeling brought on a whole new wave of panic, causing him to whimper and grip Angel hard.

"It's okay. It's okay, I've got you. Just a little trip down the hallway, and I'll get you some water, maybe some ice, and we'll get that breathing slow again. It's okay, you're safe, I've got you..." Angel cooed, her voice fading as the two made their way to the living room.

Leaving Ash lying in the Underground. Wondering if he'd ever see him again. The ice-cold fear that it hadn't been enough. That the healing hadn't been enough to save him. That he'd die down there, alone. That he'd abandoned his best friend.

David's head spun. The panic he felt whenever he was with Asher was the same panic he felt whenever Asher left. He couldn't escape. David leaned against his desk as images flooded his head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

About twenty minutes later, Angel appeared in the doorway. David's eyes shot up, red and glassy.

"I managed to calm him down a bit. His mate came and picked him up. They're on their way home now, I expect," Angel said, her voice tight.

"Good," David croaked.

Silence fell for a moment.

"What happened?" Angel asked.

David grumbled dismissively, “He lost us the Devlin gig."

"I already knew that. That's not what I'm talking about."

"It was just a panic attack. He's fine," David hissed.

Angel gaped, "What? What the fuck is wrong with you?""

"Oh fuck off." David growled.

Washing Asher's blood off himself in his bathroom sink. Angel offering to help. Telling her to go away.

"No!" Angel shouted, advancing towards him, "No, you do not get to tell me to fuck off. Not after I just helped your best friend off the fucking floor while you stood there and did nothing."

Gabe would have done something. Gabe would be so disappointed.

Angel lowered her volume, but kept the bite in her voice, "Look, I understand you're struggling, David. I don't need you to tell me that for me to see it. But that doesn't mean you get to be cruel. No more shutting me out. Now talk. What happened?"

He didn't answer. He couldn't. He felt his body instinctively fight the urge to keep from crying. Gabe used to let himself cry in front of people. Why couldn't David?

Angel ran a hand over her face, muttering, "Alright. Fine. I'm leaving."

Pack members sprinting. Splitting up. Leaving his line of sight. Leaving him.

She turned to walk out, and David heard the words before he even realized he was saying them, "I can't stop seeing him. How he was. Asher. On the ground, bleeding out. Every time I look at him, that's all I see."

Angel stopped, but didn't turn back around.

The words came rushing out like a flood. Like blood from an open chest. "I can't escape. Everywhere I look, there's something or someone that reminds me of that night. Something that sends my mind back there and then I have to claw my way back to the present, every time."

Angel faced him, biting her lip and furrowing her brow. David could feel tears burning his eyes, but he couldn't let them fall.

"I don't know how to handle this. All those fucking people, just...gone...I don't know how to be a leader after something like that. I'm doing everything wrong. I'm somehow pushing everyone away and yet not far enough, apparently, cause I'm still hurting people when I lash out. I'm hurting you. I'm hurting Ash. I'm hurting the pack. And-and..." David choked, "...and I just keep thinking how the only good thing about my dad being dead is he doesn't have to watch me as I destroy everything he built."

"No," Angel insisted, shaking her head as she walked back to him, "You're not destroying everything."

"I am, Angel," David cried out, his voice small. Tears clung to the edges of his eyes.

"No," she repeated, her hands resting on his hips, "you're not."

David let Angel pull him into her. He let her arms wrap around him. Let her shoulder hold his head as he began to cry. Finally. For the first time since that night.

His tears falling on Asher's face. The Shades and the screams so loud he could barely hear his own sobbing.

"Here's what we're going to do," Angel whispered, "We're going sit on our bed. I'm going to get you some water. We're going to talk. Afterwards, we're going to get some food. Maybe go for a drive, talk some more. And when he's ready, you're going to talk to Ash. Okay?"

It was a page right out of Gabe's book, and it took David aback for a moment. He almost kept the thought to himself. Almost.

"My dad would've said that," David mumbled into Angel's shoulder, “What you said, just now.”

“Yeah?”

David nodded.

"Is that good or bad?"

"Good. Makes me feel...steady," David assured her.

Angel pressed a small kiss to his temple and murmured, "I'm glad. Now come on, let's go talk."

[aragaki]

Darlin' x Milo.

I know I'm all alone in my little boat here but Darlin x Milo has me in a chokehold and I need to get it out!!

For one, Milo would absolutely call Darlin' Tank instead.

Thinking about Milo and Tank, they've been around each other since they were teenagers. Maybe there was some feelings, some fights. Two stubborn, strong-willed wolves with Asher always going on and on about their will-they-won't-they dynamic, much to Milo's chagrin.

Then they vanish off with some fancy-talking vamp and Milo's left with a yearning he refuses to admit to. He's got other things on his mind. He pretends that Tank's absence from pack meetings doesn't bother him but knowing they're gone, and in a worse place, weighs on him.

Then he finds them, battered and bloody, crumpled outside on his way home. They're hurt. They're half-delirious from blood loss and couldn't help themselves from going somewhere familiar - to someone familiar.

Milo patching them up as best he can, trying to get information out of them but they fight him tooth and nail at every turn. Just like the old days. All he knows is there's someone they're out for, someone they want to kill, and Milo can't tell anyone they're back in Dahlia. And just like Milo says to Sweetheart, as long as it doesn't affect the pack, he can do what he wants.

But it does and he doesn't know it.

Milo's place becoming Tank's safehouse, Milo trying to help Tank as much as he can but they're so tight-lipped about who they're hunting. But the two of them are getting closer. And Milo learns just how out of place Tank felt in the pack, with them, never feeling like they were really accepted.

David confronting Milo, absolutely pissed that two members of his pack are going behind his back. Milo and David, who are at this point more distant after the death of Gabe, and Milo having something to prove to David but has disappointed him.

Milo telling David that Tank doesn't think of themselves as a member of the Shaw pack, and hasn't in a long time, even before they left. Milo having to tell David that he didn't ask who it was Tank was hunting, scared that if he pushed or if he told David and they found out, they'd probably run and they'd never get them back and he doesn't want to lose them again.

Tank confronting Milo at the pack meeting, convinced he was the one who told, furious, hurt, and betrayed again, so tried of being betrayed, but Milo defending himself. Making it clear that he didn't tell David and Tank didn't tell him about Quinn either.

Tank's body being covered in scars from fights and Quinn. Being ashamed and disgusted as Milo, who spills compliments like a fountain, kisses each one of them. Milo's body-worshipping habits coming out at every unhappy frown Tank makes when they see themselves.

Milo buying Tank good looking clothes, fully at his wit's end with their unironed white tank top and jeans. Tank liking the clothes but never wearing them cause they seem so expensive, they should be for a special occasion. Milo's insistence that mulberry silk or not a shirt is a shirt so please fucking wEAR IT.

Asher's vindication when Milo and Tank finally make the leap into being mates. He's been on this train since they were teens, he's been suffering from an IRL slow-burn romance for half of his life!! Will not shut up about the fact that the "pack scrappers" finally got together.

"Bite me, Milo. 😒" "Not in public, sweets."

[therexasher]

Lowkey, les be real, Mike was the first e-boy with all that jingling he doing, sounding like Christmas bells☠️☠️☠️

" who's Bad "

🔥 Michael could say anything and his words would always become iconic 🎥 i love these vibes from BAD 1987 music video