#but also I do a lot of editing and my grammar is usually good

[nymphea0]

Until Death My love

Part 2.

Yandere husband x Wife Reader

Very long story, might be bad grammar or language in this story, so please correct me if theres any bad word or bad grammar. This story will came out with 4 chapter , so stay always love🦋🦋

word count around : 2000 words

Story Part 1 : Until Death My love

Story Part 3 : Until Death My Love

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The sound of many vehicles and street lights were the only things that decorated the darkness of the night' You don't know how it could end like this, there are so many moments that you have gone through with Alex, your beloved husband.

It shouldn't be like this, but it happened so fast.

That night as usual, you became an obedient and very good wife waiting for your husband to come home from work, you prepared dinner that you cooked yourself, even though the servants really wanted to help you cook, that night you were very stubborn and made several dishes such as shrimp pasta alfredo, and roast chicken.

You waited as usual in the dining room, like the nights you had gone through before. But that night, Alex came home early in the morning, your husband came home a little later than usual.

You looked at the street with a sad face and remembered what had happened to you before, that day you learned another secret from your husband, alexandrovic Reigent.

You learned that Alex was the leader of the mafia association, the same association, that destroyed the place where you worked as a staff of a famous restaurant. You think that Alex is an ordinary man that you dated during school, you spent your days so happily with Alex, then you graduated from school and continued to college, you and Alex even studied in the same place with different majors.

Then you graduated with mediocre grades, until Alex said he wanted to build a business in the mining sector.

At first you didn't think that Alex's business would be very successful, but you were very happy with the success of Alex's business. Until one day Alex proposed to you to be his wife, right when it was your birthday.

That day you felt like the happiest woman in the world. .

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'Date 05 01 19xx'

That was the day Alex went on his business trip as a CEO of a company that handles coal affairs. Like a normal day you prepared your husband's clothes, helped him put on his shirt.

"Alex how long will you be away on business?"

"Love ...I won't be gone for long, just 5 days .... hmmm? Do you miss me already?"

Your husband, Alex, coquettishly pouted at you who was busy tidying up his work needs.

"No, I don't miss you."

In a playful tone you answered Alex who seemed ready to tickle you.

That morning was filled with laughter and happiness flowing in the residence you shared with Alex. .

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That afternoon was very boring without Alex, your husband for the next 5 days, at that time you for some reason really wanted to clean the room where Alex worked.

Alex's work room. As usual the servants at home really didn't want you to work, they looked as if they were afraid of something wrong with you.

Until you forced them and they had no other choice but to let you do what you wanted, well who would dare try to stop the wife of the Reigent house?.

Carrying a broom and cleaning equipment, you opened the door to Alex's work room, the room had a luxurious impression as Alex's job as a CEO of a coal company.

A room polished with African black wood, walls that are added with furniture such as classic lamps, lots of bookshelves and a document shelf.

A small pantry table that provides coffee and tea editing tools when Alex wants to drink something.

A polished work desk with additional high-quality marble with additional computers and also some documents scattered on the desk.

In short, this room is very comfortable and has a distinctive Alex smell, a blend of mint and a little musk aroma.

At first you tidy up and clean the desk where Alex works. Until you clean the bookshelf where Alex keeps books containing world history.

You clean the bookshelf carefully, rearranging the books. Each bookshelf is given a little space between 1 bookshelf and another, with the placement of a flower pot and also a classic lamp on the wall as a divider between shelves 1 and the others.

But when you were about to go to another shelf that you were going to clean next, your feet accidentally slipped between the black carpet that was the base of the shelf, with human instinct you held onto anything so that you wouldn't fall or get hurt, expert at holding bookshelves, you actually held onto the handle of a classic lamp that was quite low and you could reach.

With strong pressure you held the lamp, unfortunately when you thought it wouldn't fall, the chandelier was actually pulled down as you were going to fall, and you ended up falling with the wooden lamp that looked bent downwards.

After standing up and getting rid of the pain from the fall, you tried to fix the lamp to its original position.

But before you could even fix the poor lamp, you realized that the bookshelf you had previously cleaned was slightly tilted from the wall and showed a small gap, out of curiosity you tried to pull the bookshelf.

And there you see a small room with an area and size of 2 footsteps, the room is empty with 3 walls covered in black wallpaper and only lit by 1 lamp on the wall, on the floor there is a round carpet the same color as the walls in the room.

You think, what is this narrow room built for?, with slow steps you enter the room, trying to feel the walls but nothing happens. At that time when you think maybe this small room was built to store Alex's useless files.

When you was about to get out of the small room, my feet accidentally tripped over a lump protruding from the black carpet. Get up slowly and stand up, you try to push the carpet out of the room.

At that time, instead of the floor you saw, you saw a wooden door that was attached to the floor. Looking around, you exit the room and walk slowly towards Alex's study door, then with one turn, you lock Alex's study from the inside and walk back into the room.

Making up your mind, you open the wooden door, it's a little hard to open, but finally the door opens and reveals a staircase leading down, you don't see anything, it's very dark down there.

A dark basement!

When you look around the bottom of the stairs, you see a small light switch that is integrated into the wall right on the first step.

With a 'Click' a light shines under the room, holding a broom, you go down the stairs. Every step you take on the stairs creates a very unpleasant sound to hear.

Until the last step, you can clearly see this basement.

This room is very classic but looks luxurious. There are leather sofas lined up around a glass table, there is a bar table and also a billiard table, there is a television with a wide and thin screen and is very luxurious which is displayed facing the leather sofa.

Slowly you look around and realize that there are many shelves for storing wine bottles and other liquor, you always knew that Alex really liked alcohol beyond your expectations, but you didn't know that this room even existed in this house.

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The house where you and Alex live, a 3-story house, with a very large front and back yard, equipped with flower gardens and also a small lake that flows behind your house.

During the 2 years of your marriage with Alex, you didn't know that this room existed.

Walking through this basement, you see about 3 gold and black framed picture displayed on the wall, approaching the picture.

The first picture , is a picture of you and Alex who have just finished their wedding, in the picture you are very beautiful and beautiful, sitting smiling happily while holding a bouquet of flowers, while Alex stands behind you while holding your left shoulder, Alex is wearing a black shirt combined with a collar decoration and also a gold hanger on his jacket pocket which is united with roses.

Under the picture is your name and Alex's name and the date you got married.

Picture of alex and his family wearing all black suits, you don't know much about alex's family.

But when you married alex, only his mother and father came, you don't know why his other family didn't come, alex only told you that his other family was anti-social, and after that you didn't ask much.

On the wedding day, his father and mother didn't talk to you, but you only got a soft smile from his mother and a cold stare from his father.

In the picture there are so many people you don't know, they all sit in rows on the benches, but there's something strange, there are several women sitting on their knees below among several men you don't know. Then you see alex and his mother and father sitting in the right row that doesn't blend with the middle row, there you can see alex with an unfriendly and expressionless face, a facial expression that you didn't even know alex could make.

Under the frame, there is a bold text that contains.

'ARCEINT REIGENT FAMILY'

You don't think much and just guess that Arceint is Alex's extended family name.

Then, the last frame is a picture of Alex and his parents, and 4 people you don't know, they each sit on a bench, while the 4 people you don't know, 2 of them are men and they sit on a bench, but the other 2 are women, and they kneel beside the seats of the 2 men.

Blinking slowly, under the frame contains the name Alexandrovic Reigent Arceint, followed by Alex's father, Rovalnov Reigent Arceint, then Alex's mother, Ilvanna Rosye.

And the names of the 2 men whose names you are not sure which one is correct are Xirent Reigent Arceint, then the other one is William Reigent Arceint.

You can only guess that maybe these 2 people are Alex's older or younger siblings. Since dating and getting married, Alex has been very secretive about his family.

Looking at the other names there are 2 other names written there, you guess it is the name of 2 women who are sitting on their knees side by side.

The names there are written as, Lilya Ergevan, and also Belleriya Woods.

You think that why their names seem so beautiful and elegant?

Looking around the room again, you think to continue cleaning up Alex's work room that was delayed and only conclude that this basement room could be a room where Alex relaxes when he misses his family.

Just as you are about to step on a step, your eyes accidentally catch a corner of the room that is quite dark, and there is a white door in the corner.

People used to say, curiosity can be your death, so be careful.

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*Source image : Pinterest

©️Nymphea0 2024 , OG story . Project Dark Romance Story 1.

Please dont steal my work, or use without my permissions , Always be good people Dear. Much love , Neva🦋🦋.

@snowflakes666

[strayrockette]

My Sunshine Girl: The Celebration

Next Chapter

Note: I’m finally giving in and writing this Benny fic my brain won’t stop rehashing. Enjoy 😊

Super Note: Listen, guys, gals, peeps...I really really really tried to keep this short but it ended up a lot longer than I intended. I even split it into two separate parts and it's STILL SOOO LONG IM SORRY! Also please excuse incorrect grammar. I tried to edit as much as I could but I'm sure I still missed something. My Masterlist

Summary: The birthday girl doesn’t want the night to end and a handsome stranger gives her an invitation.

Inspired by: (Today I Met) The Boy I’m Gonna Marry by Darlene Love, He’s Mine by the Platters, and @storiesfromafan.

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Harold’s Diner was one of many to be open late at night. Where the others were dim and had few occupants, Harold’s Diner was packed with more than usual.

Half were regulars all grouped together on the far left. They held familiarity as they conversed and joked around. Laughter and chatter were loud and hard to escape in the mom-and-pop diner.

You fluttered from table to table, smiling wide, excitement and happiness oozing from your body. It had been a pleasant surprise to walk into your uncle's diner and find a couple of friends and family waiting for you.

Your best friend Nat had organized a small get-together for your birthday. Your Uncle Harold had allowed her to use his diner for the event, "it'll be good for business and it'll make her happy" He had shrugged his shoulders as if saying yes was the only answer. With his answer, Nat had taken it upon herself to decorate the diner in anticipation of the night.

While the diner was technically open to other customers, you didn't mind one bit. The small community you lived in was tight-knit and most customers were from nearby. Few and far between were out-of-towners who were just making a pitstop. But that didn't disturb you one bit.

Customers came and went as the night went on. Many wished you a happy birthday as you and your friends idled joyfully in the corner of the diner. You beamed with each happy birthday.

By the time your friends were ready to leave and retire for the night you pouted, the night was only beginning and you were too excited to see what the cool air and starry sky had to offer.

You’d tried to convince Nat to stay out later but her boyfriend wouldn’t budge. She grasped your shoulders softly, “We can hang out some other time hun, Mikey doesn’t like it when I stay out late”

You’d rolled your eyes and mumbled a passive goodnight. Waving her off with a small and placid smile. Uncle Harold had practically shooed you out of the diner so he could clean in peace. He’d ushered out a goodnight and a see you at home, before closing the diner doors to prevent another customer from coming in.

All too suddenly you were left alone staring up at the sky and wondering exactly what you would do next. Your feet ached in the black wedges Nat had bought you. And you really wished you could sit down somewhere.

You walked along the sidewalk, taking in the dimly lit path, you wondered if you should have taken Nat's offer to drop you off at home. But you didn't like Mikey, so you politely declined.

You continued to wander, your feet aching as you tried to think of where else you could go. Who else could you visit before retiring to your cold empty bed. Lost in thought you barely noticed soft hands moving to grasp your wrists “Y/N?”

You blinked, your eyes focusing on the person in front of you. Short hair and wide eyes, “Kathy?”

A smile broke out, “Oh my gosh! How are you?”

Kathy’s brown eyes twinkled, “Been better. Since when were you back?”

“About a month ago” you responded happily. “I didn’t think I’d run into you”

She fixed her purse over her shoulder, “Talk about perfect timing. Do you remember Alice? Well, she asked me to come to spot her at this bar, but I don’t want to go in alone.”

Her question was unsaid but you were too excited to keep the night going to even think about saying no. You hooked an arm around hers and practically dragged her into the bar. You weren’t prepared for what kind of club you were walking into. But if you learned anything from living in New York City for the last 4 years, it was always best to walk as if you belonged and barrel through bodies who got in your way.

You did just that, Kathy squeezing herself closer to you, your skirt rode up with each stride, the lime green plaid skirt catching more than a few eyes. But you were always prepared for a night of fun, dolling yourself up in the cutest skirts or dresses.

Your legs were covered in nude stockings a pair of dark shorts over ‘em, like hell I’d make it easier for scummy eyes and hands to slip into my “honey pot” the thought almost made you sneer outwardly but you attempted to keep the joyful smile on your face.

You pushed through, shouldering men bigger than you, slapping hands that tried to grab your waist and smiling sweetly when they insisted, “Not for you sweetheart”

Your confidence and boldness had men parting a path for you as you tugged Kathy behind you. Your eyes searching for a familiar blonde, green eyed girl you used to tease for the gap in her teeth.

Alice’s head popped up over the crowd, her hands waving enthusiastically in the air as she caught sight of your dark brown hair and smiling face, “Y/N??OH MY GOD YOU’RE BACK”

She screeched over the loud music and voices, completely comfortable in the bar filled with greasy old and young men alike.

You rushed through the last stretch of the crowd, breaking through to rush around her table, gathering Alice into a hug you giggled and swayed together, “I missed you, you chatterbox”

You teased her as you pulled away. Your eyes roamed her face. “Well, someone’s changed”

Her green eyes looked you over a smirk on her lips, “I could say the same for you, little miss, barreling through those men like you own the place,” she leaned forward whispering in your ear, “Good job”

You laughed, patting her shoulder you pulled a seat out and sat down. Kathy was already seated, her fingers digging into the purse she clutched to her chest. Pulling money from the bottom of her purse she slid it over to Alice, “Here take it”

Alice grinned, “Awe, thanks hun, you’re the best”

Kathy looked around her gaze warily taking in the rowdy men, their greasy appearance, and tattooed bodies, “Uh huh, I gotta go”

Alice frowned, “Awe come on, you just got here and Y/N here, the fun’s just got started”

Kathy shook her head, her discomfort growing, “No way, we can get together another day”

She stressed over the word day. You bumped her shoulder, “Oh come on Pumpkin, I could use a dance with you”

She turned her head to you, her discomfort and excitement warring with each other, “No can do sweets, I hate it here”

Alice snorted, “You hate anywhere that isn’t your home, anyways” She motions to the other end of the table, “over here is cockroach”

You followed, Alice’s gesture, noticing his rough appearance-much like many of the men here, but his eyes were gentle and warm, he’s a harmless bug you thought.

You gave him a nod of acknowledgment and a hello around the same time Kathy paused her jittery movements to say “What?”

She gave him a confused and disbelieving look. He nodded, seemingly used to the confused and odd looks, “They call me cockroach,“ he repeated.

Kathy scoffed her eyes once again looking around cautiously, “And why they call you a stupid name like that?” She asked.

You leaned forward, your elbows resting on the table, “Is it cuz cockroaches are indestructible?”

You were curious about his name and what meaning it had to him. Based on the group of men he hung with you assumed there would be plenty of weird names to learn. He grinned at you, “cuz I like to eat bugs, you know, like a gag but also cuz I just like to eat em”

You laughed amused by his statement. Kathy looked disgusted and she voiced as much, “That’s disgusting. Look, I gotta go, you comin’ with me?”

She turned to you at the end of her sentence. Her eyes pleading with you to leave the bar with her. You pouted, “Sorry, pumpkin, I think I’m gonna stick around a lil longer”

Alice sighed, “Ay, they’re not that bad,” she reached across the table, patted Kathy's hand, and smiled reassuringly, “Just sit here for a bit, okay?”

Kathy huffed as Alice slipped from her seat to go to the bar, her eyes glancing around nervously. You leaned in, whispering in her ear, “It’s best to pretend you belong than to act like you don’t, pumpkin.”

She turned once more her jitteriness increasing the longer she stayed, “And why in the hell would I do that?”

You sighed and shook your head, “to lessen the stares you’re gettin, duh”

She rolled her eyes, “they’d stare no matter what.” She concluded irately.

Alice slips back into her seat, handing you and Kathy a pop to drink.

Before you could respond to reassure Kathy, two men walked up to your table, one is shorter than the other, neither are bad looking but the grease on their skin and the scent of cigarette smoke hanging around them makes them undesirable to most women. At least, the women living the prim and proper lifestyle.

Kathy avoids making eye contact but you do it freely, unbothered and curious at what they’ve got to say.

The shorter one of the two leans forward his dark eyes roaming from Kathy to you, “Hey there.” His voice is raspy and not too deep nor high. It’s rather pleasant, you think passively. “Either of you wanna come live with me?”

It’s almost a tease and a genuine question, the other jumps in eagerly, he’s tall and bare-chested, and he’s wearing a jean vest that all the men in this bar are wearing, “What about me? Wanna go out with me” his eyes look to you, they’re a soft brown and you can tell he’s a sweetheart deep down. But with all the men gathered at this bar, kindness, and sweetness are buried beneath their manly-esque appearance.

Kathy utters, “No, thank you” with a shake of her head and her eyes downcast. But you stare up at them and simply say, “No”

You’re leaning back in your chair, hands calmly placed over your thigh, your legs crossed. You have no worries or cares and you’re not at all intimidated by these men. Kathy goes on to make excuses for why she said no. She looks around the table “Oh, I have a date”

The tall one hums, “A date huh?” He nods his head at you, “What about you?”

You tease them, "If I did have a date, it isn't either of you."

The tall one laughs hollering over his shoulder, "We've got a sassy one over here."

The short on places a hand on his heart, "I'm hurt sunshine"

You laugh enjoying the light banter and tease.

Kathy nudges you, her eyes wide and warning. You stick your tongue out a silent message for her to loosen up.

She pinches your side and then says unconvincingly, “Well, I’ve got a date. 12 o’clock," She nods to herself, " I-I have to get home. She's coming with me.”

Kathy insists on whisking you away from here, she's seen the looks these men give you and bless your heart. Kathy isn't sure if you're unaware or unbothered, she refuses to leave you behind. You were the one good girlfriend she had ever had, even if you had disappeared for 4 years.

The shorter one lifts his cigarette to his mouth and inhales, “You hear that cockroach”

He points his cigarette in Kathy’s direction, “Cinderella’s got a date" He points to you, "And Sunshine waitin' for her man”

Kathy sinks into her seat and you wonder if she would bolt for the door. But with the two men blocking their path, she remains rooted in her seat.

The tall one echos, “Yeah, Cinderelli’s got a date, and Sunshine’s waitin' for her man to find her”

Cockroach chuckles and shakes his head. The two men slip away from the table, the shorter one going on to say, “Cinderella’s gonna turn into a pumpkin or somethin’”

Another man hollers, "Wonder who the lucky man is, Sunshine"

You giggle to yourself, the men reminded you of another group you'd known in New York. It wasn't too bad once you found your bearings amongst them.

You glanced at Kathy, seeing her eying someone with suspicious eyes.

You followed her gaze, seeing an older man calmly sitting with his back to the wall and his legs propped up on a chair. He was eyeing you gals with soft eyes, he gave you two a nod as another man leaned down to whisper in his ear.

Your eyes lingered for a few moments trying to grasp what exactly was being said, with no luck you looked over to the group of men, two of them being the ones who had attempted to pick you and Kathy up, stood near the Jukebox. They lazed around, heads bent speaking to each other, one of them glanced up to look over at the table you sat in.

Kathy shook her head, her voice wavering, “Look at them whisperin and plannin’ somethin, oh I gotta go”

Kathy had reached for your hand, already pulling you up from the seat. Your feet nearly stumbling as you righted yourself to walk behind her. You tugged lightly, turning her around, “If you’re gonna drag me around like ole times, Pumpkin, give me a sec to get my bearings.”

She sighed and nodded. Her right hand clutching her purse tighter as she stood and waited.

You fixed your skirt and bent down to grab your purse that hung loosely over your chair, swinging it over your shoulder, you stood and got ready to leave.

You gave the bar one last sweep with your eyes, stopping when you saw him. Blonde windswept hair and baby blue eyes. Toned arms littered with tattoos, and grease sticking to his skin, you assumed it was motor oil and some other form of grease from tinkering away at bikes.

Your head tilted and a growing feeling of intrigue and curiosity overwhelmed you. Forgetting about Kathy, you plopped onto the chair and clumsily tapped Alice’s arm to get her attention. Your bag knocked against the table nearly falling off your shoulder and hitting the ground but you tucked it on your lap and leaned closer to Alice, “Hey Alice, who is that looker over by the pool table”

Alice looked to where your eyes hovered, catching on to whom you were asking about, “No, girl just no”

You turned, giving her a frown, “What?”

“Thats Benny, you don’t want to go there” She insisted.

Kathy slid into the seat next to you, her shoulder brushing yours, “Don’t tell me you’re eyeing one of these greasy fuckers”

You jabbed her with your elbow, “Be nice,”

Passing her a pleading look. Kathy sighed and leaned onto the table, her escape plan on hold.

You pleaded with Alice to tell you more, “Come on, spill! You never hold back, what’s the deal?”

Alice gave you an unimpressed look and shook her head.

"Just fill my curiosity meter, sweets," You shook her arm as if it would help make her spill.

Alice snorted, “You’re never just curious, Sunny”

Kathy hummed, “Agreed. You rarely give anyone the time of day, why are you askin' about this one”

That's a story that would be too long to spill, you sigh, "I'll tell yah later"

“Look, no one wants to date Benny, he’s trouble. Every time he gets on his bike he gets into an accident” she looked around conspiratorially, “and he’s got a temper on him, he won’t hurt no lady but put a man in front of him and he’ll swing any which way he pleases”

She tried to stress his flaws but you couldn’t quite let go of the curiosity in you. You didn’t have his name before, you’d wondered where he slipped off to after your uncle's diner. He’d shown up out of the blue in the early afternoon. His hair freshly ruffled from the wind, a cigarette hanging from his lips, his long fingers fixing his jacket, and his long jean-clad legs striving through the diner doors with grace and confidence. For a rebel against society's norms, he was handsome. Too handsome. You couldn’t believe he didn’t have a line of girls wanting to get with him.

But then again, most of them probably steered clear to avoid angering their families. Lucky for you, you had no such concerns.

You remembered how your uncle was about to throw him out of your diner, refusing to serve “vandal scum” in his family friendly diner. But you had swooped in, bouncing over before any hands could fly and faces bruised. You’d smiled blithely, gently reminding your uncle it was your birthday and you had no need or want for a fight to break out and break the mood that had settled into the diner’s atmosphere.

People were coming in and out, most were family and friends visiting to say hi and spend time with you for your birthday. Some were customers but even they stopped for a few to talk to you. Reminiscing over younger you who had greeted each of them one time or another at the diner.

You’d turned to the handsome stranger, your hair swirling around you in waves, a playful finger wagging in his direction, “This is a family friendly diner, handsome, I’m afraid you can’t smoke in here”

You had expected him to argue but he merely put out his cigarette, handing it to your outstretched palm. You discarded it in the trash behind the hostess stand and grabbed a menu for him. You glanced to your uncle and then to the stranger, “You can eat here as long as you behave. and you will, right?” You asked sweetly.

The handsome stranger merely nodded, giving you a half smile. His blue eyes staring intently into your own dark brown that glittered with a hint of gold and red in the setting sun that glowed through the windows.

You had waved your hands in the air, “See didi, there’s no trouble here. Just a handsome man wanting to eat your delicious food”

You had defused the situation so quickly it nearly gave everyone a whiplash but that was something everyone had missed. Your ability to lighten an atmosphere.

After getting the stranger seated you went back to your previous activities nearly forgetting the blue eyes that lingered on you throughout his stay.

You had almost forgotten, until now.

Alice shook her head, grasping your hand, “Don’t say I didn’t warn yah”

She glanced at Kathy, “If you wanna leave that bad, let’s get you to a phone to call for a ride mkay”

Kathy sighed in relief, “thank you, you’re the best”

They left you to your thoughts. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, thinking over what Alice said and remembering the brief meeting from earlier in the day. You contemplated going up to him, just to ask if had enjoyed the food. He had wiped his plate clean so you know he did. But perhaps you could also ask him why your uncle couldn’t stand the sight of him. Maybe that’s too personal you thought idly.

You would have sunk deeper and deeper into your thoughts if it weren’t for a figure slipping into a chair next to you. His arms hugging the back of the chair, his body leaning over to stare at you.

You almost choked on air realizing who was seated next to you. His eyes peered into yours, soft and gentle. His beard was a golden blonde like his hair, it framed his face nicely, his cheekbones and jaw were sculpted to perfection and you wondered if you ever laid eyes on someone who was casually perfect. “Hey”

Your eyes traced his face, “Hello handsome, I didn't think I'd see yah again"

He nodded giving you a half smile, so similar to the one you had received when you had helped him get a table at your uncles diner, “I’m Benny”

You noticed his voice was a deep honeyed rasp. Somehow smooth and bumpy. You wanted to listen to him talk all night, but based on your previous and current encounters; you didn’t think he’d do much talking.

You tilted your head to the side humming in reply, “I’m Y/N”

Silence fell, a bubbly giddy feeling in your chest almost had you giggling nervously. You’d never had a man stare at you so intensely without a crude or rude comment hanging from their lips. But Benny simply watched. His eyes trailing over your face, mapping out the curve of your nose and lips, the laugh lines in your face, the dimples resting at the top of your cheeks and the way your honey brown eyes watched him in return.

He wanted to reach out to touch your cheek wondering if they felt as warm as the redness in them implied.

You swallowed the giggle by biting your bottom lip, you seemed to be doing that a lot tonight. You hoped you wouldn’t bruise it with how much you had repeated this action. “You gonna stare at me all night, Benny”

You whispered his name and it felt scandalous. As if it was the most intimate pet name you had ever come up with prior to knowing his true name.

He smiled, rubbing a hand over his chin then through his hair, he adjusted his position, “Yeah, I guess”

He made no other comment. Not once bothering to fill the growing silence between you. Perhaps there wasn’t much to be said because his eyes said it all. He was interested, you gathered.

His eyes inviting, patiently waiting on you to confirm…something. You weren’t sure.

And as much as you wanted to do or say anything you simply went with, “I-Uh-I’m with my girls”

You stuttered, what a terrible flirt. You wanted to slam your head into the table, to sink into the floor and disappear. That wasn’t what you wanted to say but it was the only thing you could think of.

“Oh” he looked down at his arms then slowly looked back up to you, “okay”

His eyes were softer and a little sad. More silence. Your heart was beating so fast with adrenaline. You swore you would never forgive yourself for being an idiot. You hoped he would say something, ask you anything. Maybe give you something other than his contemplative silence. But no, he only lifted his hands up, “You’re with your girls”

He had shrugged as he said it, gracefully getting up to leave you alone. You could feel his eyes leaving you and he left you to a different kind of silence. You couldn’t believe how idiotic you had been. As if the invitation wasn’t clear enough you had shut him down. Leave it to you to blow off the only man who had ever made you feel anything other than disgust under their gaze.

Kathy slid into the chair to your right, her mouth parting ready to ask you if you would be leaving with her, but another figure slipped into a seat at the other side of the table.

You recognized him from earlier, the man who watched you and Kathy from his corner of the bar. He gave you girls a quirk of his lip and a nod, “What are your names, girls”

Kathy leaned back and sighed, “What is this? A rotary buffet?”

You could tell she was getting tired of all the men who were coming up to you gals. “I’m Kathy, this is Y/N”

The man nodded once more, “I’m uh Johnny, I’m the president of this club.”

You hummed, “Nice to meet yah”

Kathy rolled her eyes but gave him a nod of acknowledgement. He continued to speak, “Just want the two of yous to know that..you don’t have to worry”

Your brow raised surprised by his statement but knowing where he was going.

“Worry about what?” Kathy questioned with rising suspicion.

Johnny shook his head, “Nothin, that’s all. The guys just wanna have some fun…”

He nodded his eyes trailing to the group of men by the Jukebox, “I won’t let nothin happen to yah”

His grey eyes scanned the two of you.

Kathy quirked a challenging eye brow, “Oh yeah? And what’s gonna happen to us?”

You placed a hand on her arm, trying to calm her growing agitation, “Nothin” Johnny responded.

This didn’t appease Kathy at all, she rolled her eyes and sarcastically laughed, “haha, thanks for that, we gots to go now. Nice to meet yah. Adios. Bye”

You gripped your bag over your shoulder allowing her to drag you out of the bar. When you noticed the men leering and getting closer to her, you tugged her back and took the lead, shoving them aside with strength that once again surprised them. You got out relatively untouched. But you knew that there would be some grease stains on your skirt and stockings. Kathy didn’t seem too happy about the prints on her ass though.

You would have laughed if it weren’t for the enraged look on her face. “What animals”

She hissed. Trying to swipe away the grease but the damage was done.

“Alright, sunny, I called a cab and it should be here any minute. You gonna hop in?”

You sighed and hummed, after blowing off the Benny guy you wanted nothin but to go home and wallow in your failure.

Her lips smirked, “Gonna wallow in self pity for rejectin’ that biker guy?”

Her comment released a wave of groans from your lips, “My gosh Kathy! I blew it!”

You hooked your right arm though her left and followed her across the street, “I was THIS close” you lifted your thumb and pointer finger and squeezed them together, “to maybe going on a date or somethin’”

She laughed, “Oh honey, you’ve never even bothered to flirt nor talk to a man that wasn’t family or close friends. Of course you’d blow it”

Her tease left you pouting, throwing your head back you groaned and stomped your feet playfully, “If I had a second chance I think I could get it right”

Your eyes traced the Big Dipper, wishing for another chance. But for what? You didn’t even think you had it in you. Sure you could be confident and happy. Bulldozing your way through life. Making others smile and laugh. Getting others to feel comfortable and welcoming.

But flirting? Dating? Talking to an insanely handsome man?

An impossible task you really wanted to try.

A few minutes went by before Kathy started to nudge your side. You turned your head to stare at her, one brow raised in question. Her eyes flitted across the street and you followed.

He was walking across the street, cigarette on his lips and a lighter hovering in front of him as he lit it. His hand shoved the lighter back into his pocket and he nonchalantly walked up to his sleek black bike. Swinging his long legs over the bike, he jumped to start it, his bike roaring to life.

He sat down, fixed his jacket, and gave you a look over his shoulder. His eyes were obscured by shadows but with the slight incline of his head, you figured he was silently telling you to get on.

Kathy pushed you towards him, your feet stumbling over the pavement. You righted yourself and shot her a glare. She wiggled her fingers at you, shooing you in response.

You slowly took a step forward. Then two. Then three. And before you could turn around and run away you were standing next to him.

He plucked his cigarette from his lips and gave you a look. His eyes scanned you from head to toe. Amused to see you standing near him. Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your skirt.

You were just about to ask him if you could get on. But rowdy men spilled out of the bar. Hooting loudly at seeing you next to Benny. Urging you to get on. Some commenting about your pretty skirt riding up your thigh. And some praising Benny for reining you in.

“Get on girl, it’s gonna be a fun ride” one of them laughed out.

Benny gave no indication he was listening to them. And he gave no indication of what he wanted you to do. You suppose he had already given you a hint earlier. You sighed and got on.

Once seated you tried to tug your skirt down the best you could. Silently thankful that you had prepared for the worst-case scenario. Your black shorts peeked from beneath your skirt. Your thighs resting comfortably over the bike.

More of the men hollered, “We’ve got a smart one”

“Ay suppose only Benny can take a peek underneath her skirt”

You blushed at the comment. You would like to deny it but saying anything would only fuel their provocative statements.

You turned to take a quick peek at Kathy, finding her getting on one of the men’s bikes. Having been herded by the others to take a ride. She had obviously given in to get them to leave her alone. She shot you a look. Her eyes flickered between you and Benny. She gave you a wry smile. She was excited for you. But not that pleased with her own situation. However, she’d pull through if you were experiencing it with her.

Your hands were loosely gripping onto Benny’s side, unsure of where to place them.

One of Benny’s hands reached around, grabbing yours to tightly wrap it around his midsection. You laced your fingers together and held on tightly. Trying to ignore the way your body pressed into his.

Someone shouted for him to take off and let him know that they would meet up with him on the expressway. With a jolt of the bike, you lurched forward. Your thighs squeezing Benny's legs and your grip getting tighter.

After that, you were a goner. The night sped past you in a blaze of light. The stars glittering and the town lights fading into the darkness. The wind swept your hair, tossing your neatly primed waves into a knotted mess.

You squealed, pressing your face into his back. Your eyes followed the passing scenery falling in love with the speed and the freedom that swelled up inside you.

You felt him chuckle at your reaction, you tore your gaze away and leaned at an angle to see the side of his face, you could tell he was smiling.

You were in trouble. All the warnings Alice had given you had been discarded. Your heart was a fool and your mind had been made. And you wondered where exactly this night would lead.

A/N: If you made it this far down, I applaud you 👏part 2 is already written and is currently being edited. If you want quick updates, comment for a tag! Thank you so much for sticking around to read this long fic!

[licorice-tea]

And There You Are, An Ocean Away

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x reader (and a little Nami x Vivi if you squint)

Content: friends to lovers, fluff, anxious/hopeful crush feelings, confessions, long distance relationships, reader is a Straw Hat Pirate, and Law is a little awkward <3

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: this is one of the first fics i’ve finished and i’m not the best at grammar rules so there are probably a few mistakes! also i might have made Law a little ooc lol, but besides that im just trying to write more to improve! thanks for reading :)

Edited 1/17/23

be-beep. be-bee-

“Hello?” Law cuts off the ringing of his transponder snail. He can’t help but smile to himself upon hearing the voice on the other end of the line.

“Law? Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, y/n.” He leans back in his desk chair, twisting the cord of the transponder snail around finger “E” while holding the phone in the other hand.

“Sooo,” you drawl, “have you guys started opening presents yet?”

Law can practically hear you smiling, which makes him exhale in amusement before responding. “Yeah, the crew exchanged gifts and opened them earlier this morning. How about you?”

“Mhm, we were up as soon as the sun rose- Chopper and Luffy woke up the whole crew.” You pause, and he can imagine you biting back a laugh while shaking your head as you often do. “Anyway… Did you get everything you wanted?” You sound expectant, almost knowing.

In his usual deadpan tone, he answers simply. “Bepo got me a new coffee blend.”

“That’s nice of him… he’s always so considerate.”Based on your tone it’s not quite the answer you were looking for, but you provide commentary anyway.

“Ohh yeah,” He continues on the other end of the line, feigning the recollection of something important, “and there was this massive box on deck…”

“Oh good!” You exclaim as Law chuckles. “You scared me, I thought you hadn’t gotten it. Did everyone like their gifts?”

You’re referring, of course, to the comically large box that the Straw Hats had shipped to the Heart Pirates. It was packed to the brim with gifts for every crew member. After all, what was the point of having tons of berries from “stolen” treasure if not to use it on your friends? Or at least, that’s the reasoning you used to convince Nami to rearrange some funds for gifts to the Heart Pirates and other allies of the Straw Hats. Though, maybe it was just because you had mentioned sending a gift to Vivi back in Alabasta as well…

“They all really liked it, a lot. Was it your idea?”

“No,” you explain with a playful cadence, “it was a group effort.”

“Sure thing, but the bows and wrapping paper has you written all over it. And the handwritten card…”

“I have the best handwriting on our ship! Besides, we all signed it so, its from all of us.”

The only part that 100% was not from all of the Straw Hat Crew, was a box with Law’s name on it at the bottom of the much larger box. Inside the present addressed to the “Captain of the <3 Pirates” was a neat little coin display with places for 25 coins, as well as a card tucked in beside the display.

“Well, it was nice of all of you then.” He concedes with a snark in his voice. “And, uh… I like what you got for me, y/n.” Law’s voice comes out a little quieter, and maybe even a little deeper towards the end. He sounds hopeful, not 100% sure if it was you that had chosen his gift, yet knowing that only you could have selected something so sentimental and- ugh, perfect. His tone makes your stomach do flips.

“Yeah? Good, I’m glad.” Your voice, now a bit softer, replies. “I was worried you might have already had-“

“I-I didn’t. I’ve just been storing my collection in boxes...” He trails off, now tracing the edges of the coin display you’d gotten him. It was nothing exceedingly special or expensive, but it meant a lot knowing you had thought of him- just him- and went out of your way to send him a gift. The thought that you cared about him as much as he did you had his heart beating faster already.

You only knew Law was a coin collector because he chose to tell you. Thats how it usually was with him- he only shared the parts of himself he wanted to share. (Though you did also have a knack for “catching his vibe” as you liked to say.) Anyhow, you also knew his office was painfully tidy and there was little to no decoration, despite having ample bookshelf space. And so, a display for his not-so-secret hobby seemed like a perfect gift!

But, that wasn’t the only thing you’d added to his present. There was also a card, in which you’d written something along the lines of “I’m so glad I met you…. You deserve so many great things, but hopefully this coin display will suffice for now… I have feelings for you…. Merry Christmas! xxx, y/n” You had sort of just slipped in the confession between other clauses.

“And did you read the card…?” Your face suddenly feels a little warmer. Not that there was anything scandalous in the card, just some very honest words about your feelings for Law. Words you hadn’t ever been bold enough to say out loud and in person, and still hadn’t been brave enough to write without lots of other thoughts and well wishes surrounding them.

“Card?…” You hear some shuffling on his end, “I’ll read it now.”

“Mkay.” Your short response is a telltale sign of your own nerves, which makes him curious to find out what you could’ve written.

There’s a prolonged silence as he reads, and Law’s heart skips a beat as he nears the end. His eyes go back over and over 5 specific words: “…I have feelings for you.” He feels nearly giddy with excitement, but it comes out as pure anxious energy. He never thought this would actually happen; a scenario where you reciprocated his affections had only ever happened in his imagination up until now. Usually in these scenarios, he’d have worked up the courage and audacity to tell you how he felt in person, and not only would you accept his confession; you’d also return his feelings. But now that it was actually happening? He found himself at a loss for words, heart beating in his ears and probably blushing like some lovesick idiot.

Law wants to say something perfect for you, something charming and witty, but all he can think of in the moment is, “… I read it.”

His throat feels dry, like he doesn’t know what else to say. Law likes you too of course- how could he not? Ever since you’d met back in Saobody Archipelago, though the interaction had been brief, he’d thought you were beautiful, strong, and somehow a little different from the other Straw Hat Pirates. Then he’d gotten to know you; really know you, beyond your fighting capabilities and the information on your bounty poster. You were kind, witty, selfless, hardworking, and so much more. And alas, absence only makes the heart grow fonder.

Sure, you’d started off as allies, but that quickly became friendship, and a close friendship at that. He liked you because of your acceptance for nearly anyone, so long as they seemed a good person. Even more so, your ability to understand his emotions despite his usually reserved nature (he secretly thinks it’s some sort of sign, but in reality you’re just emotionally intelligent.) And you like Law because of his obvious (though he tries to hide it) love and passion for so many things: his crew, his work, etc. This, along with his witty, albeit odd sense of humor, made you enjoy his company quite a lot. The two of you took most every chance you had to be in each others company, since they were few and far between. Sometimes you’d chat, with you doing most of the talking and Law being content to listen and only add comments where he thought them necessary. Other times you’d follow each other into battle to provide support for the other, though neither of you had ever really needed help in those situations.

You swallow the lump in your own throat and continue, “You don’t have to have an answer or anything right now, I just want you to know how I feel.” Law doesn’t say anything, and so you continue while trying not to sound disappointed. “Merry Christmas, Law.”

“…”

“Law?”

“I like you too.” his words come out sort in a rush, like he had been holding his breath.

“Y-you do?”

“Yeah.”

You can’t help but smile.

“Well, uh, I have to go now, but… Can I call you tonight?” He asks hesitantly, even though you’ve already confessed that you feel the same way he does.

“Yes, that’s fine! I… I was worried that you didn’t feel the same way for a second.” You laugh, light and airy.

He scoffs, but you know it’s not meant to sound mean when it comes from him. If anything, it’s endearing. “Of course I do.”

You giggle again, “Bye, Law.”

“Bye, y/n.”

As soon as you hang up, his nervous frown turns into a small smile, and it grows and spreads across his face until he’s grinning like a fool and hiding his face under the brim of his hat.

[builtbybrokenbells]

CAPITAL VICES | GREED

Greed: an intense and selfish desire for something

Masterlist

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 14k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, semi public sex, pretty public sex briefly 😭, quickies, fingering (f!receiving), sir kink, lots of dirty talk, touch of degradation, touch of praise, lots of flirting, teasing, cum play I suppose?, name calling, mentions of toxic relationships, brief mentions of abuse/abusive relationships, mentions of cheating, drinking, swearing, fluff, sorry if i miss any!

hi!! i got internet today and finally finished this up. so happy to get back into the swing of things. my second roommate finally moved in and life seems pretty okay for once. as always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes 🫶🏻 also this chapter is a wholeee lot, some fluff, lots of filth, and for once, not really much angst!! (Lightly edited too, my apologies)

😈: Call me?

The text tone rang through the air, immediately breaking your focus from the screen of your laptop. You read over the message a few times, hating that it immediately prompted a rush of emotion straight through you. It was despicable that he had so much power over you by simply existing, and the fact that he barely said a word made it all the worse. Perhaps the most incriminating notion of it all was that you were ready to drop everything you were doing in exchange for a moment of conversation with him. Instead of feeding into the temptation, you typed back a simple response.

You: Busy.

The read receipt immediately sold him out, letting you know that he was sitting in the chat awaiting your response. Somehow, he knew you wouldn’t comply. It was a tell tale story, him giving you an order and you doing whatever you could to ignore it. Eventually, he got his way, but you did always seem to put in a good effort. Within seconds, his name lit up your screen with an incoming call. You rolled your eyes, debating on whether to answer or decline. After a few moments of awkward staring, you hit the green button. Before you could even utter a greeting, he was already speaking.

“What’s got you so tied up that you can’t talk, angel?” He asked, the sultry tone immediately sending a wave of butterflies through your stomach.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business, Jacob.” You snipped, setting your phone down beside you on the table. After a moment of silence, the vibrations began again, showcasing his request for a video call. This time, he really did begin to get on your nerves. Reluctantly, you accepted. “You’re needy today.” You rattled off the astute observation in an attempt to get under his skin, but it did not seem to bother him. He remained silent instead of spewing out a counter argument, looking a bit tense as he studied the screen. “Christ, what is your problem?” You asked, propping your phone up against your laptop screen.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?” He asked again, relaxing once he’d recognized the familiar paintings hanging on the wall of your bedroom.

“Working.” You said, biting down on the inside of your lip as you zoomed in on the photograph you were editing. Your eyes flickered back to your phone, the sight of his face nearly knocking the breath from your lungs. “I, uh, I’m just working on some wedding pictures.” You found it difficult to keep your rigid exterior when your eyes connected with his, the soft brown immediately warming your cold expression. “Why the video call? Worried there’s another guy in my bed?” He let out a chuckle, but did not deny the accusation. You knew that’s exactly why he called, but he refused to admit to his jealous tendencies. Although there was no relationship between you two, it was quite apparent that the two of you were only concerned with seeing each other.

“It’s nearly six; why are you still working?”

“Just want to finish these up. I’ve had them for a couple weeks now, and I usually don’t like to keep them this long.” You explained, touching up the lighting in the background of the photo. “Someone has been distracting me.”

“I wonder who that is?” He smirked, happy for the recognition.

“Yeah, I wonder.” You rolled your eyes. “Is that why you called? Looking for some late night entertainment?”

“You always think the worst of me, darling.” He smiled, rustling with something off camera. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

“You know you don’t have to compliment your way into my bed.” You glanced at your phone, noticing his eyes lingering over you as you spoke.

“Maybe I just wanted to be nice.” He offered, knowing that his compliment had nothing to do with his desire for sex. You were both aware that all he had to do was show up and he would get exactly what he wanted, but it was more than that to him. He liked to call things as they were, and if that meant flattery in any sense, he was more than happy to dish it out.

“You? Being nice?” You raised an eyebrow, unbelieving that the compliment was without any deeper significance. Even after days full of sweet words, you still had difficulty trusting that he was sincere rather than doing all he could to keep you on his hook.

“Oh, shut up.” He dismissed you. “What are you doing in an hour?” Your eyes flickered to the clock in response to his question.

“Well, that depends if you mean exactly an hour from now. At 6:47, I’ll probably still be sitting here working, but at 7, I’ll be cozying up with a bottle of wine, wondering when you’ll come knocking on my door.” He laughed at your need for theatrics, finding your wit incredibly alluring.

“How about at 6:30, you have your hair done and put on a pretty little dress, and at 6:45, you answer the door and let me take you to the bar for a few drinks?” He offered, unwilling to take no for an answer.

“Why would I come with you to the bar when I can get drunk at home?” You questioned, already knowing that you would obey his wish and be waiting for him well before he arrived. It still proved plenty of fun to push his buttons, and you couldn’t resist. “It would be much more peaceful; I wouldn’t have to listen to you all night.”

“You’d love to listen to me all night, don’t fool yourself.” He brushed you off. “I know I’d love to listen to you all night.” His tone dropped as he added the second part, letting you know that conversation was not something he was expecting to come from your mouth by the end of the evening.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” You rolled your eyes. “Why waste your money on drinks when you can come fuck me right now?” You posed the idea, hoping that he might comply with the request so you didn’t have to waste time dressing up. It was a fruitless endeavor anyway, knowing that when he got his hands on you, the dress would be long forgotten and your makeup would be ruined.

“Because I’m going to the bar with my brothers, angel, and I’d really like it if you came, too.”

“That seems awfully domestic.” You muttered. “Meeting the family definitely isn’t my definition of casual.”

“It’s my definition of friends.” He argued. “Besides, you’ve already met Josh. I know you’ll have a great time.” You heaved a long sigh, saving your work and facing the phone fully. He gave you a smile when he noticed your attention was focused on him.

God, how he loved to be the center of attention.

“Then I’ll take you home,” he explained, making sure you were listening carefully “and I’ll fuck that attitude out of you, all night long.” Your cheeks dusted pink at his vulgarity. Although you had effectively said the same thing, it always seemed dirtier coming from his lips. “Sound like a deal?”

“6:45, Jacob. Don’t be late.” You warned.

“For you? Never.” He smirked, ending the call with no formal goodbye. You sat for a moment, shaking your head at the strength in which he affected you. Without any further debate, you closed your laptop and stood from your chair, making your way to the bathroom to hop in the shower.

It had been about three weeks since the fateful night at the bar left you tangled in Jake Kiszka’s web. Three weeks of constant certainty that the two of you would remain solely connected through intimacy but neglect any romantic feelings. It was working out well, but your excessive indulgence had been pushing boundaries of greed since the first night you met. Now, it was uncommon for you to spend a night without being immersed in him, whether than be at your own home or at his. Your bed smelled like him and his memory was embedded in the fabric of your pillowcases. And in your shower, and your kitchen counter, and even your living room furniture. There was no part of your home that was free from the mark of his memory, and even if you tried to convince yourself to hate it, you knew it was there to stay.

There was not a surface in your household that was free of his touch, and not a fiber of your being that was free of his deadly charm. He had a hold on you stronger than anything you had felt before, and it was welcomed, even if you refused to admit it to him. Jake’s company was fantastic, and the fact that you could indulge in it without worry of further commitment or heartbreak was comforting. He was not in love, and neither were you, and you were both content with the knowledge that you did not have the intent to be with each other in such a way.

He had become your friend despite your reluctance to accept it. On top of that, he’d become the very thing that haunted every thought and dream that crossed your mind. You were a woman gone mad, desperate for a hint of attention and begging for the grace of his hands. The concupiscent nature between you was near embarrassing to choke down, and the strength in which you felt for him was incomprehensible. You needed Jake in the same way a starving man needs food, and the pleasure that he gave you had long surpassed a need for survival; sometimes, it felt as though it was the very thing that your being was put on earth to receive. Pleasing him went hand in hand for all he gave to you, and you were fine knowing that the two coincided with perfect unity.

He was placed in your life for many reasons, and sometimes you believed none of them were good, but you knew that you would go to the ends of the earth to reward him for the service he provided you. It was a relationship built from sin, yet even the barren depths of hell could not scare you away from him, because an eternity filled with suffering would be worth the moment of euphoria you felt at his hands. He was the devil, and you were the worshipper that in turn, gave him all of his power. He would be nothing if you were not feeding in to him, but the chains that bound you to him were so tight that they had fused to your skin. It was a vicious cycle that both of you were aware of, yet cared little about freeing yourself from it.

Love, although not something that you wanted to admit to, seemed to be creeping up on you with the utmost of silence, trying it’s best to kill you before you ever noticed it’s company. You were not in love with him, and even when he was wrapped around you in the most intimate display, you still did not feel the emotion. But, just because you did not feel it, did not mean it did not exist. Love was everywhere, surrounding you at all times and existing within you even while asleep. It was not love in the traditional sense, and nowhere near close to the kind that made you want to get married and settle down with children. It was the love of his company, and the love of his sharp tongue and sweet words. It was present in the shared jokes and coffee in the morning after spending the night together (Coffee and lunch had become routine, because you did well to adhere to your no breakfast rule).

It was different than any love you had experienced before, because it was not the type that made you willing to sacrifice yourself on his behalf nor go insane trying to love someone who did not love you. It was enjoyment in his company, and the laughter that hung in the air. You loved him as a friend, and you were in lust with him as a person. You were not dependent on his help to survive, but you did not want to picture a life without him in it. He was a great companion, and a fantastic friend, but you could not seem to view him as anything more. You did not want to blame it on his character, because it was simply not true. Jake was fantastic, but it was your own personal issues and morals that stood in the way of anything further than casual sex. So far, despite your limited time apart, he hadn’t seemed to overstep any boundaries or push your limits. As far as you could tell, he was content with the same things you were, and he had no interest in anything more.

For now, it was a comfort to know the both of you wanted the same outcome, but perhaps it was the most dangerous thing of all. The only thing that was worse than one person falling unwillingly, was both of you falling unknowingly.

You climbed out of the shower, drying off as you checked the time on your phone. Once your body was free of any water droplets, you wrapped your hair in a towel and moved on to your closet. Your eyes scanned your wardrobe, landing on a cute little black dress. You slipped it on, settling your arms in the long sleeves and straightening the front. It had a plunging neckline, the bottom of it reaching just under your chest on your sternum. You searched your room for tape to hold the soft fabric in place. When you were certain it would not move, you fixed the bottom, settling it mid-thigh. You took a quick look in the mirror, content with your choice and ready to move on to makeup.

In the bathroom, you had a constant eye on your phone to ensure Jake wasn’t texting or calling. He hated to be kept waiting, and you liked him enough to not want to push that button. You ran a comb through your hair as you blowdried it, adding a few loose curls to the ends for some volume. With little time to spare, you dusted some eyeshadow over your eyelids and put some mascara on your lashes after dabbing on a touch of foundation. You picked through your lipglosses and rushed through the application after hearing a knock sound on your door. With a small smile on your face, you rushed to greet your company for the night.

When you opened the door, you nearly fell to your knees at the sight. Jake was dressed in all black, with similar clothes to the night you met him, but somehow he seemed even more beautiful than he did then. There was a chain dangling from his neck and a few rings on his finger, and of course, the familiar cocky smirk adorned on his lips. You began to realize that Jake would not be himself without it. “6:45 on the dot.” You noted, your brain finally catching up with the moment.

“Told you I’d never be late for you, angel.” He recalled, taking a long look over you. “Seems like we match.” He tried to hide the lustful staring, but his eyes were permanently fixated on the exposed skin on your chest.

“I guess so.” You said, your eyes just as focused on the unbuttoned portion of his shirt. The need you both displayed for each other was shameless, and it was the loudest thing in any room you entered.

“You look fantastic.” He said, taking a step forward and letting the door close behind him. When he did, you caught a strong scent of cologne that was unfamiliar to you. It was new, it seemed expensive, and it was so heavenly that it was difficult not to tear his clothes off right then and there.

“Is this what you had in mind for a pretty little dress?” You teased, giving him a smile.

“Even better than what I had in mind.” He corrected, snaking his hand to your hip and pulling you into him. He brought his free hand to your chest, gently running the knuckle of his index finger down between your breasts and stopping at the same spot that the fabric resumed. A shiver went down your spine at the light tickle of his touch, and your skin ignited with a fire that could not be contained. “All of this just for me, sweetheart?” His tone was low and gravely, overtaken by desire for you.

“Don’t be so full of yourself, honey.” You brushed off his claim, yet both of you knew the defence was weak. You dressed to impress him, and his eyes and hands were the only thing you wanted on you. “Maybe I just wanted to make a good first impression.” He raised an eyebrow at your statement, challenging you without saying a single word. You nearly faltered under the weight of his stare, but you remained strong despite your tendencies to submit to him.

“Your idea of a good first impression is dressing like a whore?” He questioned, but the harsh words did not match his stature nor his tone. It was incredibly playful, almost as if he was trying to initiate foreplay already. Your cheeks burned red at the statement, but you continued holding his unwavering stare.

“Worked on you, did it not?” You asked, a small smirk playing on the corner of your mouth.

“So you’re trying to get them into bed, too?” He did not lighten up on his intense gaze, but somehow you were just content that you seemed to catch his undivided attention.

“If I remember correctly, you were doing all of the trying that night. I wasn’t interested in taking you home.” You reminded him of his relentless efforts and your continuous rejection as if it hadn’t been playing on repeat in his head since it happened. His hand slipped to your ass, bringing you closer to him with a force that made your head spin.

“Are you trying to get yourself in trouble again?” He asked while his fingers pressed into the skin that was already bruised from the night before. The pain held little importance compared to the mess that was beginning to form between your legs. “Why is it so hard for you to admit that you want to look good for me?”

“Because I’d hate to fuel your ego any further.” You snipped, but your hand was in search of him, landing on his side as you attempted to pull him closer. “And I’m not a liar.” You were, but neither of you needed to point out the obvious.

“That’s okay, angel. You don’t have to say it. Your body does all the talking for you.” He loosened his grip, giving you a small pat on the ass. You couldn’t help the frown that took over your face as he began to pull away. He caught sight of your expression, pausing for a moment as a glimmer of joy filled his eyes. “So that’s what it is,” he muttered, his gaze flickering to your lips. “You were hoping to piss me off enough so I would fuck you before we left.”

“No,” you shook your head, rejecting the idea even if he hit the nail straight on the head. He gave a low chuckle, leaning down and pressing his lips to your own. Your eyes fluttered closed, finding your prior arguments ceasing to exist within seconds of his touch. When he pulled away, the smile had returned to your face as if it never left at all.

“I missed you, sweetheart.” As domestic as the statement was, you couldn’t argue with it, for you had missed him just as much.

“I know.” You hummed. You did not have to say it back because he knew you did, too.

“Get your stuff so we can get going.” He ordered.

“Pushy,” you muttered, but turned to do as he asked.

“The faster we get there, the faster we can come back here.” He explained, watching you intently as you walked away from him. He was already itching to get that dress off of you, and it was no secret. You could see it in his eyes.

“Could just stay here.” You offered, calling out from your bedroom. You weren’t opposed to meeting his brothers; far from it, really. You quite enjoyed Josh’s company when he showed up unannounced at Jake’s apartment, and you could only assume you’d get along just as well with the others. What you did like more than drinking was the sex Jake had to offer, and you knew sitting tipsy in a bar booth was nowhere near as enticing as having him alone in your bed.

“You don’t sound very excited.” He noted, holding his hand out for you to grab as you walked out of your room. With little hesitation, you slipped your own into his and flicked the lights off.

“I am excited to meet them, but more excited about what comes after.” You corrected, pulling your keys out to lock the door behind you.

“Trust me, angel, if you’re good for me tonight, I’ll be good to you.” You nodded, knowing that he wouldn’t lie to you about that. As for being good, you weren’t sure if you could uphold the standard, especially to his expectations. Holding your tongue had never been a strong suit for you, but you could definitely give it a shot.

“So what do they think we are?” You asked, letting him guide you to the passenger side of the car. He opened the door for you, allowing you inside. Once you were settled, he closed it and got in the drivers seat. “Do I have to pretend that we’re in love, or do they know what we’re doing?”

“Sam and Danny think that we’re friends.” He chuckled, starting the car before looking over to you. “Josh only knows better because he saw you in my apartment.”

“Ah, so I’m a dirty little secret?” You raised an eyebrow. He smirked, giving a shake of his head as he slipped his hand to your thigh. You rested yours on top of his, hoping that he would keep it there for the whole drive.

“No, sweetheart.” He said, backing out of your driveway and into the road. “I just wanted to avoid them having any impression of you in their heads before they met you.”

“What does that mean?” You questioned, looking out the window as he drove.

“That means,” he paused, turning up the radio only slightly “you’re more than just someone I have sex with. I didn’t want them to know you as that, because you have way more to offer.” You couldn’t deny the tugging of your heartstrings as he spoke, finding his response genuine and sweet. “I don’t want them to like you because they feel like they have to. I want them to like you because they got the chance to know you like I do.”

“No pre-existing conditions,” you whispered “thank you, Jake.” Instead of a verbal response, he gave your leg a light squeeze. “You must bring home some interesting women if you’re scared they’re going to feel required to like me.”

“Why do you think I don’t date?” He quipped. His tone was light, but it didn’t seem like he was joking. For a moment, you felt like you could see straight through him. For another, you felt like you could relate to him. You did not know how to respond, so you didn’t. You were not in the game for comfort or therapeutic measures, and neither was he.

As you looked out the window, a strange feeling washed over you. You did not know Jake nearly well enough to be so entranced by him. You had pegged him as a whore without really knowing who he was, and you had built your walls up so high that you could not see over them for long enough to understand Jake for what he truly was. He did not seem to want a relationship with you, but he did want to be involved with you, and so much so that he hadn’t let you forget it since the minute he walked into your life. It did not appear that he was entertaining anyone else, and in truth, you did not fear he was simply because you knew he did not have the time. Between working, texting or calling you, or being with you, he seemed pretty preoccupied. More than that, he seemed content. In some strange way, you were, too, and one of the biggest problems you had with dating had already been conquered without you even realizing it.

Jake was integrated in to your daily routine so well that it almost seemed empty without him, and it was not in the negative way you perceived it to be in the beginning. He was a positive addition to your routine rather than a distraction, and he did not interfere with the things you believed he might. When you found clothes he forgot, you washed them and folded them alongside your own to return to him at a later date. He watched whatever you put on the television without a complaint, and offered you new music rather than forcing it upon you. He took up space in your bed, but did not impede on your own. He did not keep you up at night by snoring or stealing blankets, and often times, you slept better with his lazy arm slung over you. You did not want to wed him, but he had certainly proven that he was not a waste of your time.

Denial is a stage of grief, after all, and grieving your former self was all you had been doing as of late.

“What’s your favourite color, Jake?” You asked, looking back over at him. He glanced at you from the drivers seat, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he processed your question.

“What?” He laughed, still unsure of your words.

“Your favourite color.” You repeated as if it was a completely normal inquiry.

“Uh… red, if I had to pick.” Fitting for the devil, you thought.

“Okay.” You nodded, looking back out the windshield.

“Why do you ask, sweetheart?”

“I guess I just feel like I don’t know enough about you sometimes.” You explained, feeling a small spark of embarrassment ignite in your chest. “We spend so much time together and I don’t even know your favourite color or which brother is your favourite, or anything like that.” He let out another hearty laugh at your words, finding your desire to know more about him intriguing.

“So you want to know me, now?” He asked, surprised that you were asking questions first.

“We’re friends, are we not?” You snipped, your tone sharp and defensive.

“I’d like to think so, but you seem to disagree.” He chuckled. “Ask me whatever you want angel, and I’ll answer.”

“Whatever I want?” You raised an eyebrow, wondering if he realized the extent of his promise. He did not try to take back the claim. Instead, he nodded his head to show you he was being truthful. “Okay, I guess I will, too.” Although begrudgingly, you thought it was only fair to be open and honest with him if he was willing to do so with you.

“What’s your favourite colour?” He asked, curious himself.

“You’re pushing it.” You warned, a smile on your lips to show you were joking. “Green. Dark forest green, like the way the trees look when the sun has just set.”

“Good to know.” He said, making sure to store the information in his mind.

“Do you do this often? Or am I just one of a kind?” You finally spewed out the most pressing question in your head.

“No, you’re one of a kind.” There was no room for doubt in his answer, because his tone was laced with utmost certainty. “I’ve never done this before, actually.”

“So why am I so special?” He looked back over at you, studying your face as he formulated a proper response.

“You’re different than anyone I’ve ever met.” He started slow, trying his best to word it properly. “I don’t like dating, and I don’t like commitment all that much, but I liked you from the minute I saw you. I wanted you, but for some reason, I wanted to know you even more than I wanted sex. I didn’t want to leave in the morning and never see you again.” He said, focusing on the road as he spoke. “I figured I’d shoot my shot and if you turned me down, no harm no foul. Then I started talking to you, and I knew there was no way I was walking away without you. Your snarky little comments and your sarcasm was impossible to ignore, and your lack of interest was just making me more interested. You had a comeback for everything I said, and I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who I clicked with like that.” He shrugged. “The sex was mind blowing, and you get along with Josh really well. Was kind of a no brainer for me.”

“Oh,” you nodded, feeling your cheeks warm with another blush. You hated that you always seemed to be blushing when he was around. “I, uh, I don’t like that stuff either, and I really don’t like one night stands, but I liked you too. I’m pretty stubborn, and I think I just assumed you were lying to get what you wanted.”

“S’okay.” He gave your thigh another squeeze. “I get it. People suck.”

“Yeah, they do.” You agreed. “I told myself a long time ago I would never date anyone again, and I still feel that way, but I do like you and I like what we’re doing.”

“You don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to, but I’ll always listen.” He promised, pulling into the parking lot of the bar.

“It’s not a very long story, but I wouldn’t want to bore you with it.” You shrugged.

“I’ve got all the time in the world.” He assured you, putting the car in park and turning his attention towards you. When you caught his eye, it was astounding how much care was held in his gaze.

“I’ve gotten my fair share of strange looks and whispers around town for the last few years.” You explained. “Usually when you’re divorced before 25, people talk. At 22, it was even worse.” He did not change his expression, nor did he make a move to speak. He was listening, and he knew he would listen to you until long after the sun came up with no judgement and no interruption. In the three weeks he’d known you so intimately, never had you mentioned a word about your past so bluntly. He was desperate to know you, and he felt lucky that he was even getting the chance.

“I was stupid, and I married my high school sweetheart. At eighteen, he bought a cheap ring at the nearest pawn shop, and I wore it proudly, just like it was the most expensive diamond in the world. By nineteen, we were moved in to a shitty house in the poor part of town and I had his last name. Life wasn’t glamorous, and it certainly wasn’t easy, but I was happy. I worked part time as a server ay diner off the highway and made the rest of my money taking shitty pictures off my dad’s old camera from the 90’s.” You said, looking down at his hand burning into the skin of your thigh. It looked prettier on you than your ex’s ever did, and even in the short time you knew him, you knew that for certain. “When you’re that young, you don’t listen to anyone. No matter how many times I was told I was making a mistake, I didn’t listen. Kids never do.”

“What happened, angel?” He asked, noticing the disdain growing in your eyes.

“People change.” You finally looked up to meet his eyes. “Sometimes for the better, but most of the time, it’s for the worst.” You weren’t sure why you felt so comfortable telling him everything, but you didn’t feel the need to hide anything from him, and you knew that no matter what, the story would be safe with him. “By twenty, he’d already slept with half of the women in the neighborhood; it didn’t seem to matter if they were married too. If anything, I think he liked the thrill more than he liked getting off. Before I turned 21, he stopped saying I love you and turned to fists and raised voices. I was lucky that my sister opened up her spare room to me when I finally found a way out, and I was even luckier that he had a good job and lots in his savings account when I took him to court. I got a restraining order and changed my name, and bought a house on the other side of town with the money I got in the settlement.

“I had no idea, y/n.” He said, a spark of sadness showing in his eyes.

“Of course you didn’t. I’m not that person anymore, and I never will be. I don’t talk about it because it’s not who I am, and it’s not something that holds any value anymore. I changed, and I got over it; it was five years ago, but I don’t date anymore because I don’t think I could ever give anyone any power over me again.” You were lying through your teeth, because you knew he held a power over you, even if it was not romantic. Your strength astounded him, and as much as he wanted to voice his willingness to protect you for the rest of his life, he knew you did not need it. You seemed like you had more strength at 27 than he could ever comprehend in his lifetime. “It doesn’t change the person sitting next to you; I’m the same as I was the minute before I opened my mouth, and I don’t want you to think differently.” You took in a long breath. “Friends know each other, Jacob, so don’t ever doubt our friendship again. You know more about me than most of the world.”

“Understood.” He smiled. “Friends it is then, angel.” He was estatic to finally hear the words come out of your mouth without hesitation.

“What about you, then? Dating isn’t your game either, so I hope your story isn’t as tragic.” You joked, trying your best to lighten the mood. The tension was heavy in the air, and unlike usual, it was not sexual in any way. The weight of your confession was crushing the both of you, and you desperately wanted to change the subject.

“No, not quite.” He chuckled, understanding that you wanted to joke your way through the hurt. “Cheating takes a toll after a while, and I guess lots of people find it a fascinating hobby.” He explained. “After it happens so often, you get sick of pouring your heart into someone who doesn’t really give a shit in the end. I dated a girl for a very long time. We met not long after I graduated and we stayed together until about a year before I moved here. Loyalty wasn’t her thing, and I think I was too blind to see her for what she was. The guys hated her, but love makes you stupid.”

“That it does, Jacob. That’s why I don’t do it.” You said. “I value my sanity far more than I care about being alone.”

“Right,” he nodded “I spent a few months heartbroken, and then I just stopped caring. I had a few one night stands, but I didn’t really like it. Sex is fun, but when you told me there was no point in getting to know someone only to try and forget them in the morning, I couldn’t have agreed more. When I met you, and you felt the same ways I did, and you understood that sex is different than a relationship, it was like a breath of fresh air.”

“It was.” You agreed. “I like being friends with you, Jake, and I really like having sex with you, but that’s why I was so stern about not falling in love. I’m not ready for it, and I probably never will be.”

“I get it, and I feel the same way.” He sighed, happy to know the truth about the situation.

The only unfortunate part of the truth was that it did nothing but open the next door that was in the way of falling for each other.

“I’d like to know you, Jake.” You admitted. “Really know you, like more than what we’re doing now.”

“I’d like that, too.” He smiled.

“Still no breakfast, of course.” You informed.

“Of course not. Wouldn’t dream of it.” He laughed, genuine happiness radiating from his features. You felt a flutter of warmth in your stomach, finding yourself almost too excited to see him happy. “Would you like to go inside?”

“Yeah, sure.” You nodded, unbuckling your seatbelt. He got out of the car to open the door for you, holding your hand as you steadied yourself on your feet. When he was certain you had your balance, he slipped a loose hand to your lower back. “I’m excited to meet them.” You assured him, knowing that he had fear of you going because it felt obligatory.

“Good, I know they’re excited, too.” A small smile crossed your lips as he opened the bar door for you, allowing you inside first. When he stepped in beside you, his eyes drifted across the filled booths. Ray caught sight of you from the bar, sending you a wave as he studied the sight before him. Not once in the last five years had he seen you walk in the bar with someone by your side, but he was happy to see the smile on your face. Usually it was hard to get one out of you until you were a few drinks deep.

Jakes eyes landed on a familiar face and he began guiding you towards your company for the night. You drew in a deep breath, settling your nerves as you tried your best to convince yourself the night would be good. “Hey!” An excited voice called out. The familiarity was nice, and you looked to meet Josh’s eyes as Jake pulled up a chair at the end of the booth. “I was beginning to think you’d never show up.”

“Sorry, that was my fault.” You chuckled. “I was caught up with work.”

“No need for apologies, you’re here now.” He assured you. You looked to the other side of the booth, catching the curious eyes of two more boys. You gave a warm smile, extending your hand out to shake theirs.

“Hi, I’m y/n.” You said, shaking the first boys hand.

“I’m Danny.” He smiled, his eyes lingering over your face. He seemed sweet, and you didn’t even need to talk to him to sense his kindness. It was radiating from him. You did the same with the next boy, already knowing who he was without him saying his name. If you ran into him on the street, you were certain you’d recognize him. He looked so similar to Jake that it was nearly alarming.

“And you’re Sam?”

“So he’s told you about me?” You had to laugh at the similarity between his statement and the one Josh gave you when you first met.

“Only good things.” You promised.

“I can say the same.” He grinned. “I hear you play piano?” He raised an eyebrow, curious about the fact.

“You heard correctly.” You nodded. “My mom thought it would be a good way to keep me busy, and she was right.”

“I’d love to hear you play sometime.” He said, genuinely curious.

“I’m sure we can arrange something. I hear you’re quite talented, too.”

“You should come to our next show.” Josh offered, cutting in with his grandiose idea.

“I’m sure she has better things to do.” Jake chuckled, rolling his eyes at his brother.

“No, I’d love to, actually.” You shut his notion down. “I haven’t even heard him play yet, so maybe we could kill two birds with one stone.” Sam nearly choked on his drink at your words, looking over at his brother with wide eyes.

“He hasn’t played for you yet?” He asked, looking back to you. “I have a hard time believing that.”

“Guess we just never got around to it.” Jake said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck while he hoped they would drop the subject.

“Are you nervous?” Sam asked, even more baffled than he was before.

“No,” he snapped, shutting him down. “Quit it.” You chuckled at the altercation, finding their banter funny. Seeing them so close and comfortable with each other made you miss your own sister. She had moved a few towns over the year prior, and you hadn’t seen her much since. Sam seemed to back down at his sharp tone, settling back in his seat while he sipped on his drink. “Do you want a drink?” Jake asked you, prompting you to sit down beside Josh in the booth.

“Yes, please.” You smiled, following his order. Jake nodded, already knowing what you wanted. He hadn’t managed to forget a single thing about you since you first met. Sometimes, it felt like the knowledge plagued him and he would die from the sickness of needing more.

“So, y/n.” Sam said, watching as Jake disappeared from sight. “What do you do for work?”

“People pay me to take their picture.” You explained. “Weddings, maternity, cheesy family portraits, all that fun stuff.”

“Ever do photography for a band?” He asked.

“No, but your brother has been trying to convince me to do your promo shoot for the new album.” You admitted. “It seems like it would be fun, but I don’t know if I’m what you’re looking for.”

“Don’t say that.” He scoffed. “I’m sure if Jake is okay with it, you’re more than fantastic. He’s pretty picky when it comes to band stuff.”

“Oh yeah?” You asked, intrigued by his words.

“Yeah,” all three agreed, the response heavy. “The whole music thing was his dream, so he’s pretty specific. He must like you a lot.”

“Oh.” You cheeks tinged red again, almost flattered that he thought highly enough of you to want to work with you. “Who knows, maybe he can talk me into it.” You shrugged. “So you’re the bassist and he’s the drummer?” You asked, pointing to Sam and Danny for their respective roles. They nodded, confirming your words. “That’s cool that you all get along so well.”

“It’s tough by times.” Josh admitted, not willing to pretend it was always sunshine and rainbows. “Do you have any siblings?”

“Yeah, one. She’s only a year older than I am.”

“So you get it.” Sam chuckled.

“I do. She’s my best friend, but we do hate each other. Just part of the sibling relationship, I think.”

“Exactly.” He nodded. With that, a drink was sat in front of you and Jake took a seat in the chair at the end of the table. He gave you a small smile as you thanked him, but moved on quickly. “Water for you? That’s new.”

“Driving tonight.” Was all Jake replied, uncaring about having to stay sober. Getting you home safe was his only priority.

The group descended into small talk, starting first by trying to get to know you, then slowly moving on to joking and laughter. It was nice feeling like you fit in straight away, and during the entire night, you never felt out of place. Jakes brothers were arguably easier to get along with than him, and you were happy you hadn’t shied away from the invitation. For once, company seemed to make your night all the more memorable rather than put a damper on it. You found the boys fun to be around, and you could not remember the last time you laughed as much. Somewhere between drink three and four, Jakes hand slipped to your knee underneath the table. You barely paid any mind to it, and if anything, it was welcomed. You could never seem to convince yourself to disregard his touch, and often times found yourself searching for it.

The group joined together and purchased some shots for the table, which only began a gruelling game of quarters. The tension was high and the competition was fierce. Josh and Danny started, then you and Sam went head to head. Even though Jake wasn’t drinking, he stepped in for a few rounds, which eventually landed Josh in the chair at the end of the table and Jake taking post in the booth next to you. The innocent hand on your knee steadily grew more comfortable, which then provoked him to move his fingers further up your thigh. His touch was searing, and quickly turned into the only thing you could focus on. You were stuck on the inside of the booth, knowing that you would not be able to step away to calm yourself down unless he allowed it.

In essence, you were trapped, but it was not striking a fear within you; instead, there was an excitement to see how far he would take things before he backed away.

When Sam and Danny found themselves in an argument with Josh over something so small and trivial that you had missed it entirely, you felt Jake’s hand sneak even further up your leg. He settled his hand under the hem of your dress as his fingers were nearly brushing against the fabric of your underwear. Your breath caught in your throat, but you could not deny your desire for him to keep going despite the very real possibility of being caught. It was always the same with him; no risk was too high, because the reward would outweigh the risk any day.

“Jake,” you whispered, glancing over at him through the corner of your eye.

“What’s wrong, beautiful?” He asked, his expression nearly fooling you into believeing he was doing nothing at all.

“Behave.” You warned, but you were hoping he wouldn’t listen. He never did, and you weren’t truly expecting him to, anyway.

“What ever do you mean?” He smirked, turning his head down towards you ever so slightly. With a little help from your own neediness shining in your eyes, he managed to push your legs apart just enough to run his finger over your clothed cunt. You let your eyes flutter closed, trying your best to keep a straight face while he continued on his torment. He took in a long breath, nearly feral at the feeling of the arousal pooling between your legs. Your departure was long overdue, and he had been waiting to get you out of the dress as soon as he showed up at your door.

“You guys want to play a round of pool?” Sam asked, his attention suddenly on the two of you. You opened your eyes, trying extra hard to make sure your expression wasn’t giving away the incriminating act Jake was doing under the table and out of sight.

“What do you think?” Jake asked you, clearly trying his best to push you to the limit. As he asked, his touch grew stronger and more pronounced, focused intently on the thin lace that was covering your clit.

“Sure, why not?” You breathed, hoping that a quick answer would divert the attention away from your flustered expression. “I suck though, I’ll warn you now.” You gave a nervous laugh through clenched teeth, trying your best to ignore Jake’s antics.

“You okay? You seem a little… distant.” Jake pressed, hoping you might crack under the pressure.

“Yeah, think I just drank too much too fast.” You brushed him off, now determined to prove him wrong. “Might take a little break for a while.”

“Wouldn’t want you getting sick.” He sympathized, although clearly fake and only offering the statement to keep you in the position for as long as possible.

“Of course not, I’ll be alright.” You said, holding his gaze. There was a fire in his eyes, dangerous and mischievous, and yours were pleading with him to surrender. You were caught in a stalemate, neither of you willing to back down, yet neither of you able to win.

“Shall we play?” Josh asked, also seemingly invested in yours and Jake’s staring contest.

“Sure, just give us a minute. We’ll meet you over there.” He assured them, not looking away from you as he spoke.

“Okay.” They agreed, sliding out of the booth and making their way towards the pool table. Once they were out of earshot, you opened your mouth to speak.

“You trying to get us in trouble, Jacob?” You scolded, noticing that he still failed to withdraw his hand.

“No idea what your talking about.” The smirk on his lips was infuriating, but what even worse was how badly you wanted to lean over and kiss him. The devil made his presence known in the inviting warmth of his brown eyes, falsely claiming peace and serenity despite the invitation being nothing but filthy underneath the surface. “What’s wrong, angel?”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” you scolded, but could only care about his finger that had dipped underneath the fabric he had been teasing you through.

“Jake,” you hissed, but it was not with discontent.

“If you give me a kiss, I promise I’ll behave for the rest of the night.” He informed you, watching your lust clouded eyes with a type of longing you could not begin to comprehend.

“A kiss? That’s it?” You questioned, squirming underneath his stare.

“Yeah, haven’t gotten once since we got here.”

“Because your brothers think we’re friends!” You argued.

“Think that jig was up a long time ago.” He laughed, finding his power over you near comedic.

“Christ, kiss me then.” You rushed out, nervously watching to make sure nobody had picked up on your obscene display. He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet exchange. It was nowhere near the same intensity of what he was doing beneath the table. As he pulled away, so did his hand. His promise was kept, and you finally felt like you could take a full breath of air. “You are needy today.”

“Get over it.” He gave your thigh a squeeze, humour laced in his tone. “Let’s go kick their ass in a game of pool.” You nearly had whiplash at the sudden change in direction, but you couldn’t seem to find it within yourself to be upset with him. He extended his hand out for you to grab, helping you to your feet as you straightened out your dress.

“I told you I suck at pool.” You warned, praying that he didn’t get his hopes up.

“Even if we lose, I still consider it a win if I have you as my partner.” You thought your face was going to ignite in flames from the intensity of the blush on your cheeks. He led you towards the rest of the group, keeping a steady hand on your back so you didn’t stray too far from his side. When you rejoined the rest of the crowd, you realized they barely noticed the length of your absence, too busy hitting balls aimlessly across the green velvet of the pool table. As you watched Sam line up a shot, you realized that you might actually have a chance at winning. He seemed worse at the game than you, if it were possible.

“Good thing they don’t pay you to play, Sam, cause you’d go broke.” Jake said, watching a striped ball bounce of the side and crash into the 8 ball, sending it straight into the corner pocket. You giggled at the sight, watching Sam shoot his brother a glare as he straightened up.

“I’d like to see you do better, then.” He held his arm out, prompting Jake to grab the cue. He obliged, taking a long look over the table before settling on a solid ball. He lined up his shot, and with one swift moment of his arm, the white ball knocked the blue one into a side pocket. With a cocky smirk, he handed the cue back to Sam, rejoining you without saying a word. “Show-off.” He muttered, fishing the balls from the pockets and racking them in the middle of the table.

“Just admit you suck.” Jake laughed, pulling you into his side even further without even realizing it.

“You just want to impress her,” Sam snipped. “Let’s play, then we’ll see who sucks.” Jake opted not to respond, but he went to the rack on the wall and grabbed a cue for himself. He motioned for you to pick one for yourself, which you did with great hesitation. If Jake thought Sam was bad, he certainly wouldn’t be pleased with your performance.

“You’re up first, sweetheart.” He said, gently nudging you towards the table. You let out a long exhale, taking a step towards the table and bending over to line up the cue with the ball. From behind you, you heard Jake take in a sharp breath, unsure of what his issue was. As you broke the rack of balls and straightened up, you turned to look at him. The far away look in his eye was familiar, and your eyes widened at the realization of why he reacted so strongly to the innocent moment.

He had worked himself up teasing you at the booth, and was almost brought to his knees from the sight of you bent over the table.

‘So much for the boys thinking we’re friends.’ You thought, but you could not seem to be upset at him. The knowledge that you drove him crazy was nothing short of an ego boost, and you understood that you had a chance to get revenge for his merciless actions just moments earlier. You took a few steps towards him, turning to watch Sam take his shot. As you did, you made sure you were close enough for your ass to brush against him gently. His hand shot to your hip, holding you firmly in hopes that you wouldn’t move any further. You bit back the smile begging to break on to your lips, knowing that it would not take much to get him in the same state he had you in before starting the game.

“Easy, angel.” He whispered, his voice low but the warning clear. “Wouldn’t want to get us in trouble, would you?”

“No, sir.” You replied, just quiet enough for him to hear. But, trouble was the only thing you wanted to get into, and you weren’t sure how much longer you were willing to wait. He gave your hip a gentle squeeze, happy you were in clear understanding. With that, he stepped towards the table and started his turn. Josh was sat on the table opposite of your own, watching carefully in hopes of calling someone on an infraction of the rules. When he returned to you, he seemed a little more relaxed and forgiving of your actions.

“Another drink?” He asked, noticing that yours was nearing the end.

“Sure,” you nodded, looking up at him with a smile. “Thank you.” He nodded, leaning down and pressing a small kiss to your lips. You knew it was to satiate his own need for you, and the small contact would give him enough satisfaction to make it through the rest of the night. You watched as he walked towards the bar, a small smile stuck on your face as your head swam with intoxication.

“Not a girlfriend, eh?” Josh said, raising an eyebrow. Your head snapped towards him, almost embarrassed at his confrontation.

“Not a girlfriend.” You confirmed, firm on your stance.

“Can you be?” Sam asked, laughing at your response. “We like you.” Your heated with a blush (or the alcohol, you couldn’t really tell), happy that they seemed to take to your company well. You would be lying if you said you weren’t afraid of rejection.

“You can like me without me being a girlfriend, you know.” You said, watching as Danny finished up his turn.

“Obviously,” Sam rolled his eyes “but I think we can all agree we would like for you to be one. Don’t want him to fuck it up.”

“He can fuck it up just the same with a label.” Your counter arguments barely seemed to phase the three.

“I never thought he’d find someone nice. Everyone else was… well, horrible.” Sam chuckled, turning his attention to you fully. “He seems to like you a lot. He talks about you all the time.”

“He does?” You questioned, shocked at the statement. He nodded in response, looking to make sure Jake wasn’t already on his way back to the table. “Didn’t think we were that serious.” You said, making a note to discuss it with him when you were alone.

“I don’t think he does, either.” Josh laughed. “We just think it’s a shame you’re not. He has a pretty bad track record, and he kind of swore off the whole dating thing. He was insufferable for a little while, and then he met you. Seemed like it cleared his head a little bit. It’s nice.”

“Oh,” you said, feeling dread settle in your stomach. The cold feet you got from his simple statement was astounding, and you felt like running out the door and never looking back. You were not ready for feelings, and he promised to abide by the rule. If he was acting differently when you weren’t around, you weren’t sure you would be able to keep up at the same intensity without setting some boundaries.

“He’s on the same page as you, friend who is a girl.” Josh assured you, wanting you to know that you didn’t have to worry. “I think we all just like you, and we hope that you stick around for a while, at least.”

“Okay,” you calmed slightly, happy that Josh recalled your statement from the first time you met. “Because friends is all I do, Joshua.”

“Right,” he agreed, but it did not seem like he believed you. “You’re the friend that so happens to be a girl, and he’s a boy that is indeed just a friend.”

“Perfect, you got it.” You laughed, nodding in agreement. Just as you settled back into silence, Jake made his return from the bar with your drink in hand. Somehow, when he was back in sight, the fear disappeared and was replaced with a sense of calm. His eyes caught yours, and that little smile on his lips told you that everything would be alright and you need not worry about a thing. When he was a few feet away from you, the gravitational pull that constantly surrounded him seemed to pull you in, muting the rest of the world and allocating your energy solely on him.

“My turn?” He asked, handing you the whiskey glass.

“No, it’s mine. Too busy talking.” You admitted, your eyes never leaving the entrancing features of his face.

“Or were you just waiting for me?” He teased, his eyes watching you with the same intensity. “Am I your good luck charm, angel?”

“You wish.” You brushed him off, but your smile told him his comment was welcomed.

“And?” He raised an eyebrow, appalled that you ever thought differently and wondering what your issue with it was. He loved being needed by you, and that had never been a secret. You smiled, giving him a slight smack on the arm before turning towards the table. You looked over your options, but not in hopes of winning the game. Instead, you pondered the best spot to lean over the table to drive him just as crazy as the last. You were like two sex-crazed demons, doing whatever you could to instigate the inevitable and making each other suffer in the process. Greed had become you long before the night of drinking ensued, but your infatuation with each other seemed to hit an all time high, for not even a public setting could keep your hands away from each other.

You walked to the other side of the table, making sure you picked a ball that was in front of him. You leaned down, low to the velvet and lined your stick with the cue ball. Your dress left little to the imagination as is, but with the help of gravity, anything left to wonder was quickly answered. Jake had a tight fist around his cue, knuckles white as his eyes fixated on the fabric ever so slightly pulling away from your skin. You drew your arm back, putting a little more force than needed into your strike, making sure that you looked up at him to see his reaction as the top of your dress struggled to remain secured to your chest. He caught your eye, his jaw clenched tightly as he tried to remember where you were and who you were with. When you returned to your upright position, you gave him a subtle wink so he knew your intent was personal.

Sam moved to take his turn, completely unaware of the silent battle between you and his brother. You brought your drink to your lips, so invested in your own game that you let a dribble of whiskey fall from the cup and trail down your chin. You swallowed down the burning liquid, knowing that his stare hadn’t once broken from the obscene display you were putting yourself in. The cold droplets fell from your chin down your neck, eventually reaching the valley between your breasts. Slowly, it melted into your skin and disappeared into the fabric resting on your sternum. When you withdrew the drink from your lips, you thought you might have pushed him too far. As he watched, it almost seemed like his brain was short circuiting as he tried to keep up with the vile thoughts he was having about you. The interaction was so small that nobody noticed it other than him, but he was so invested in you that not a single motion would ever be missed.

Your skin was ablaze with desire from the thought of his hands alone, and neither of you were interested in the game of pool anymore. Reluctantly, Jake took his turn, glancing at you intermittently between his shots. By the time Danny took his, there was only the eight ball left.

“Can you help me?” You asked Jake, giving him a small, innocent smile.

“Nuh-uh,” Sam shook his head, shutting it down. “That’s cheating.”

“How so?” Jake asked, uncaring for any rules and itching to get his hands on you.

“We can’t do that!”

“Actually, you can.” You corrected, walking over to meet Jake by the cue ball. “You just don’t want to. Or, you didn’t think to ask first.” Sam gave you a glare, clearly not liking the two against one outlook.

“Grand chancellor will allow it.” Josh interjected, finding Sam’s discontent hilarious. Even more than that, he was hoping Sam would actually ask for Danny’s help if you missed.

“Who made you the grand chancellor?” Sam argued, clearly fighting a losing battle.

“I did,” Josh said, giving him a smile. While Sam argued his point with Josh, you and Jake had taken it upon yourselves to lean down over the table to line up your shot.

“You’re being a brat, sweetheart.” Jake whispered in your ear as he settled himself behind you. “That’s not very nice. Thought I told you to be good for me tonight?” His hand came up to your arm, fixating them in the correct position as his other one held your hip.

“I think you’re just horny.” You shot him down, completely ignoring his accusation. “I’m just trying to play pool.”

“No, you’re just trying to be a cocktease.” He corrected, his tone quiet but his delivery harsh. “You want me to take you into the bathroom and fuck you?” You could not deny the dull ache between your legs that stemmed from his question. “Is that what you want, sweet girl?” He hummed, his mouth settled just over your ear. A shiver ran down your spine, completely unfocused on the shot he was supposedly helping you take. “Answer me.” He hissed, guiding your arm back to fake the shot, getting you used to the motion.

“No, sir.” You lied through your teeth, knowing that it was exactly what you wanted. You did not think you could survive the drive home without a taste of what he was offering. As you spoke, you made sure to push your hips back into him only slightly; it was not enough for anyone else to pick up on, but the erection growing against your ass told you he’d noticed it as clear as day.

“What do you do to me?” He muttered, flickering his eyes between the white and black ball. “This is how it’s going to work, okay?” He said, taking a deep breath. “After we win this game, you’re going to go to the bathroom. Stay there for a while, I’ll pretend you aren’t feeling well. Then, I’ll come and check on you, and I’ll fuck you so good that you won’t even remember where we are.” A light gasp left your lips as your cunt clenched around nothing. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.” You muttered.

“Good, now hit the fucking ball and get this over with.” Instead of responding, you drew your arm back and hit the cue ball with just enough force to send the eight ball into the corner pocket. As you did, he made quick work at adjusting himself before anyone else noticed. Sam was so busy fighting with Josh that he didn’t even notice your stellar victory.

You straightened up with a smile on your face, knowing that Jake was the reason behind your success, yet still feeling proud that your hands made the winning play. Danny, who couldn’t have cared less about competition, applauded you and offered a high five. You responded with the same energy, jittering with excitement. When Sam turned to face the table, his expression was filled with disappointment at losing. You did not have the desire to console him over the loss, instead muttering a quick word about a good game before excusing yourself to the bathroom. You bustled to the other side of the bar in the direction of the bathroom, estatic when you found it vacant and awaiting your arrival.

You closed the door and clicked the lock, taking a quick look at yourself in the mirror. You straightened your hair and wiped away any specs of mascara that had fallen. Your foot was tapping against the ground as you waited for the knock, feeling like the seconds were more similar to eternities. Eventually, there was a soft knock on the door. With a breath of courage, you unlocked the door and opened it. You barely had a spare second to greet Jake, because he was already pushing his way inside and slamming the door behind him. He was in such a rush that one hand was already reaching for you as he fumbled with the lock.

You did not have the chance to say a word before his lips were on yours, desperate and angry at your relentless efforts to get under his skin. His hands shot to your hips, pulling you into him as the kiss dissolved into a messy and sloppy display of emotion. You let out a moan into his mouth, already descending into euphoria from the feeling of his body so close to yours. His fingers snaked under the skirt of your dress, forgoing any formalities as he bunched it up over your hips. Once your lower half was uncovered, he gave a hard tug on the elastic of your underwear by your hip, destroying yet another pair in wake of desire. In truth, you did not care; the only thing you cared about was him being inside of you, and you feared you would go insane if you had to wait a minute longer.

He gripped at your hips again, picking you up and roughly settling you on the counter while never breaking the kiss. You locked your legs around him, drawing him closer while hoping he never had to leave. If you could stay tangled amidst the web of his sinful touch forever, you would never have to search for anything more. “Did you think you were being smart pulling a stunt like that?” He asked, finally parting from you in a mess of heavy breathing. “Did you think being a tease would get you want you wanted?” He pressed even further, stopping his tornado of inquiry to bring his hand to his mouth and spit onto his fingers. “That you would get away with it without any punishment?” He lowered his hand to your cunt, the feral energy finally bubbling to the surface and ravishing his expression.

“I’m sorry, sir.” You pleaded, painfully aware of his touch that was so close yet just out of reach. “Didn’t mean to upset you.” You rushed out, looking down at his fingers just inches away from your heat.

“No?” He asked, his jaw hard set and his eyes dangerous. “Then what did you want, angel?” He was withholding any reward until he got a suitable answer from you. “Tell me exactly what you wanted, and I might be nice enough to give it to you.”

“I wanted you, sir.” You said, looking up to meet his eyes. “I wanted you to touch me. I need you to touch me. I can’t wait any longer.” You whined. You could not find it within yourself to be embarrassed about your own desperation, because your need for him far outweighed your own ego.

“Yeah? You want me to touch you, sweet girl?” He questioned, moving his hand just a little closer to you. “You just wanted me to take care of you? Make you cum all over my fingers right here in the bar?” Your face flushed at his vulgarity, but it only turned you on further. You could listen to him say nothing but filth all day and you would hang on to every word.

“God, yes.” You nodded, leaning forward and resting your forehead against his. “Please, Jake. I promise I’ll be good for you.”

“So fucking needy.” He growled, but his hand connected with your aching core as he spoke. You gasped at the sudden change, not expecting him to give in so easily. He spread your arousal to your clit, slipping his thumb over the sensitive bundle of nerves as he dropped his middle and index finger to your entrance. You bit back a moan as he began pumping his fingers into you, moving his thumb in time with his fingers. “I love it.” He confessed, nearly breaking down from your sounds of pleasure. “You know I’ll always give you what you want, baby. Just have to say the words.”

“Feels so good, Jake.” You whimpered, closing your eyes in bliss as he remained on a steady pace.

“As much as I’d like to stay here and fuck you all night, we have to make it quick. Don’t want people wondering where we are, do we?”

“No sir,” you agreed, using his body as support to keep you upright. You had an iron grip on his bicep, your skin electrified when his nose brushed against yours. You were only concerned with the pleasure steadily rising in your belly and the boy who was standing before you. When he was with you, with his skin on yours, nothing else in the world mattered, and nothing to come in the future would ever matter half as much. He was everything, and you were slowly coming to terms with the notion. Jake was the only man that held any importance in the entirety of the world, and the only one you ever wanted to touch you like such. He was an addiction, a disease that ravaged your whole body and left nothing behind. He was more evil than you could begin to comprehend, but you felt blessed to have him around.

The devil was the master at the game, convincing you that his company was a virtue when in reality, it was only the beginning of an eternity of suffering.

“This is what you needed, angel?” He crooned, watching his own work unfold in real time. His eyes were locked on his hand, his breathing laboured and his mind lost within the fantasy of fucking you again. “This is what you wanted so bad?”

“Yes, sir.” You groaned, feeling your heart thud against your chest. Your entire body was no longer under your command, now completely subject to whatever he felt inclined to do to you. You did not care, and you didn’t think you ever would. Even if he decided to bestow suffering, it would still be better than any kindness from another.

“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” You nodded against him, your legs trembling with the threat of your climax. “Don’t be shy, baby. Let the whole bar know how good I make you feel. I want to hear all of those pretty noises.” You were trembling under his touch, and his words struck the nail into the coffin. Without ever loosening your grip, you descended into an orgasm stronger than any you had ever felt before. You tried to cry out his name, to thank him for the grace he had given you, but you could not speak anything coherent. Even in the mess of jumbled thoughts where his name was most prominent, you could not seem to find the strength to speak it. As you rode out the high, he used his free hand to undo his belt buckle while continuing to pump his fingers into you. Before you had time to calm down from the excitement, he had freed himself from his jeans.

He withdrew his fingers, but you didn’t have time to grieve the loss of contact before he was pushing himself into you. Once he bottomed out inside of you, he brought you closer to the edge of the counter, allowing for easier access. “Fuck.” You cursed, letting your head fall back as you focused on the feeling of him. Sometimes, when you thought about it for too long, you convinced yourself that he was perfectly crafted and put on earth just to please you. The way your bodies moved in sync, moulding together in perfect harmony and pleasing each other just how you needed without even having to try. It was so hard to deny that it made your head spin, and the intensity in which you felt it to be true was nearly overwhelming.

“Tell me how good it feels, angel.” He purred, burying his head in your neck as he sucked at the sensitive skin.

“So fucking good, baby.” You sighed, tangling your hands in the hair at the base of his neck. You tightened your legs around him, hoping to bring him even closer than he already was. “You fill me up so good.”

“Such a dirty little whore.” He groaned, losing himself to the pleasure. You were both pent up, ready for a release before you ever made it to the bathroom. “Do you like being a whore for me, baby?”

“I love it,” you confessed, feeling the knot tightening in your belly, ready to let go at one slight movement. You were holding back, wanting to experience the height of the pleasure at the same time as him. You did not care that the entire bar likely knew what the two of you were doing, and you didn’t care about the awkward stares that would ensue when you emerged to join the crowd. You only cared about the boy you were wrapped around, and the fact that you got to spend the rest of the night with him after you went home. “I’m gonna cum, Jake.” You warned, a sharp gasp sounding as he pulled you towards him as he thrusted into you. The tip of his cock slammed into your cervix, sending a jolt of pain through you that was satiated by intense pleasure afterwards.

“Yeah? You want to cum with me?” He hummed, straightening up to catch sight of your face as you descended into your second orgasm. You nodded, your fingernails clawing at the fabric of his shirt to hold you in place as if you were scared of floating away. “Let go, angel. Cum for me.” You bit down on your lip, suffocating the moan that was trying to break free as he continued on his relentless pace.

“Oh, god.” You muttered, your eyes squeezed shut in bliss as your limbs began to tremble. He leaned down, capturing you in a kiss in hopes to silence your cries. He was only willing to share so much of you before the greed began to take over. He wanted you all to himself, and he wasn’t shy of that fact. Your moans fell directly into his mouth, feeding into his already wicked ego. The fire that burned in his heart was directly acreddited to you and your pleasure, and he survived solely of the way his name rolled so beautifully off of your tongue. As much as you were addicted to him, he knew that he was just as much, if not more of a victim to you.

The orgasm washed over you at the same time as his, both of you reaching your peak in a mess of curses. You sung his name like a hymn, and he uttered yours like a repentance. Neither of you could withstand the weight of the sin, but you were happy to die in each others arms. As you came down, he slowed his pace, careful not to make a mess of both of you. You let out a collective sigh of relief, the ghost of your orgasms still tingling over your skin as he pulled away. You couldn’t help but let out a whine of discontent as he pulled out, already missing the feeling of him inside you. He chuckled at your expression as he watched your face.

“Don’t be greedy, sweetheart.” He said, heaving a long sigh. “You’ve got a long night ahead of you, yet. Don’t think you’re going to get away with all of that teasing.” Your cheeks burned red at the thought, knowing that once he got you out the door, you wouldn’t be able to escape the repercussions of your actions. Even so, you knew that the punishment would be pleasurable, and you were already itching to take him home. He helped you off the counter, but stopped you as you made a move to clean yourself off. You looked up at him, confused at his intent. Before speaking, he grabbed the fabric of your dress and pulled it back down over your hips.

“What are you doing?” You breathed, looking up at him.

“That’s my way of making sure you say a quick goodbye.” He smirked.

“I don’t think so,” you shook your head, making a move to get past him again. He held you a little tighter, giving a disapproving tsk.

“Get out there,” he ordered, clearly showcasing his seriousness. “Finish your drink and say goodbye without making a mess, and then I’ll take you home and finish what you started.” You held his stare, both of you intense and unwilling to back down. “Clocks ticking, angel.” He reminded.

“Fine,” you huffed “but you better not pull any tricks once we’re out there.”

“Me? Never.” He grinned, a sparkle of adoration in his eye as he tried to gauge your comfortability with his request.

“Wipe the lipgloss off your face. Don’t think pink is your color.” You snipped, straightening your hair and your dress before stepping out of the bathroom without another word. He laughed at the fire in your eyes, doing as you asked and straightening himself up, too. When he left the bathroom, he watched you walk back towards his brothers with nothing short of love for you in his heart.

Although he’d never admit it, he was falling just as hard as you were. Greed had finally played its fatal part in the impending outcome of your situation, and sealed your fate of being infinitely intertwined with Jake Kiszka in a way you had been desperate to avoid.

TAGLIST:

@sacredjake @profitofthedune @thewritingbeforesunrise @sacredthethreadgvf @klarxtr @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @freefallthoughts @jaketlove @clairesjointshurt @ageofbajabule @dannys-dream @earthgrlsreasy @starshine-gvf @brujamagik @gvfmarge @ignite-my-fire @twistedmelodies @gretavangroupie @alwaysonthemend @edgingthedarkness @gvfpal @sinarainbows @writingcold @starcatcher-jake @literal-dead-leaf @takenbythemadness @gretasfallingsky @hsfallingsky @freyjalw @itsafullmoon @lyndz2names @blacksoul-27 @i-love-gvf @vikingsisthenewsexy @mp0801 @mindastreamofcolours @indigogvf @sparrowofthedawnsworld

[tarysande]

Hi! I’m considering becoming an editor but I’m not sure if it’s the right fit for me. If you don’t mind answering, what was your path like for becoming an editor, and what does the job mostly consist of for you?

Additionally, while I really do like helping other people’s work become better, I get too in my head to release a lot of my own work. Does editing require you to also be a writer most of the time, or could I get by mostly just editing?

Thanks!

Hi, anonymous friend!

These are really good questions for a potential editor to ask.

To (sort-of) answer your question, the amount of writing involved depends on the type of editing, honestly. So, first you have to decide what kind of editor you want to be.

Roughly, editing breaks down into three-to-four types: developmental/substantive, line/stylistic, copy editing, and proofreading. These terms are mixed up and interchanged ... often. Increasingly, line editing includes or incorporates copy editing, which is why I say "three-to-four."

Developmental is the big picture stuff, including manuscript critiques. Books of all kinds usually undergo some kind of developmental editing--by editorial agents, acquisitions editors, freelance developmental editors, etc. In my experience, this is also the kind of editing that requires the most writing and/or the most author/editor interaction.

Stylistic/line editing tends to be editing at the sentence level, looking at diction, structure, clarity, consistency, etc. Copy editing, on the other hand, is what many people think of when they think of editing--it's the mechanics of writing, like spelling, grammar, punctuation.

Proofreading is the rather specialized skill of editing proofs. They're the final eyes on a pre-published piece; they're looking for typos and errors rather than anything that will involve significant authorial changes because a proof page has already been "set" (as it were).

All of these kinds of editing can be applied to many different areas of communication, and the editors who perform them can be self-employed (like me) or work for an employer (i.e., as a more traditional employee). Employee editors might work in-house at a publisher (of books, magazines, academic journals, etc.), or they might have any number of editing-focused roles in business, government, education, etc. Self-employed editors may also end up working as contractors for other companies; this is pretty normal.

Many book publishers, including the Big Five, farm out a lot of their editing these days, by the way. Especially the copy editing and proofreading. So, those particular jobs are dwindling as in-house options. Publishers can pay freelancers less ... and avoid paying benefits. (#capitalism)

I will also say that, especially in jobs with anything to do with marketing or advertising, there's a lot of annoying scope creep where "copy editor" is often expected to be a copy writer, too. Again, it's a symptom of employers wanting to pay fewer people to do more jobs (and it's really annoying).

My path has mostly involved trying as many things as possible and slowly weeding out the ones I don't like. I've pretty much always been self-employed because the personal benefits (setting my own schedule, rates, deadlines) works better for me. That said, I'm Canadian (so I don't have to worry about employer-covered healthcare), and I have a partner whose salary is regular and whose benefits cover me, so I don't have some of the worries a freelancer in the US or a single-income household might have. I'm increasingly working on the development side of things because big-picture storytelling, including writing and editor/author interaction, is my jam. But I have also done a ton of line/copy editing on fiction, non-fiction, academic work, etc.

Without knowing what kind of editing you're looking to get into, it's harder for me to offer suggestions for next steps, but generally, I'd say it's important to get SOME training--whether through a school, a certificate program, or the various workshops and professional development offered by editing associations (Editors Canada, the CIEP, ACES, the EFA, ...there's an Australian one whose acronym has slipped my mind). Researching the flavor of editing you're interested in will probably offer up avenues for study, too. For example, most US publishers/authors use iterations of the Chicago Manual of Style. Most UK publishers/authors use Hart's Rules/Oxford. Academic journals/schools/students have different style guides (APA, AMA, MLA, Harvard, Vancouver). Law uses the Blue Book. It's good to have working knowledge of a few style guides--and then you have to keep up with the changes (Chicago's 18th edition is coming out this year, and I hear some significant changes are afoot--such as fully embracing the singular they!).

The tl;dr here is that yes, there are a lot of writer-editors. But there are also a lot of editors who aren't writers at all, or who have no interest in becoming writers, or who don't want their writing and editing to overlap, or who edit because they like helping people and they value clarity. At the end of the day, editing and writing are two very different hats, and you don't necessarily need to wear both.

...this is already a bit long, but if you have other questions or want me to get more specific about something, please ask!

[gaelicwordofthesometimes]

So you want to learn Scottish Gaelic

These are just some resources and organisations I have found/used in my learning so far

Sabhal Mòr Ostaig - The Sabhal Mòr Ostaig is a Gaelic school on the Isle of Skye. They offer both in person and long distance courses in a variety of Gaelic related subjects and a variety of levels. Obviously I wouldn't recommend taking on a full university degree unless you're really interested in that as it's a lot of time, money, commitment etc, but I've listed them because they're a major contributor to the Gaelic learning world. They also have online summer courses for learners of various levels

Duolingo - This is a great starting place. Their Gaelic course was created in partnership with the the Sabhal Mòr Ostaig. The full grammar notes for the course can be found here. From what I've found, this course is estimated to get you to roughly A1 going on A2

LearnGaelic - This website has a mixture of basic grammar intro lessons as well as a dictionary. I find that the dictionary sometimes has trouble filtering relevance of vocab, but overall I find it quite helpful

Gaelic Books Council - The Gaelic Books Council supports Gaelic writers and publishers, promoting and selling Gaelic books in a range of genres. They have both original works, and popular works which have been translated into Gaelic

Acair Books - A Stornoway based publisher of Gaelic, Scots and English books. They have a large selection of children's books which are great for beginner learners, but also have adult books

The Scottish Book Trust - A charity dedicated to reading and writing in all of English, Scots and Gaelic. You can browse their website for a range of poetry, prose, learning resources, writers' awards and fellowships

Am Faclair Beag - The Little Dictionary. I find this dictionary is slightly better at filtering by relevance than the LearnGaelic dictionary, so I often use it to cross reference. LearnGaelic has a tendency to give you the most obscure translation first, whereas Am Faclair Beag will usually prioritise more common translations

Speak Gaelic - Speak Gaelic is a series created by BBC ALBA. There is a YouTube series with Joy Dunlop, a podcast with John Urquhart, and a website with quizzes to test your learning. The initial series is roughly A1, with some of the later episodes aiming for A2. A good intro, though the website is known to be a bit glitchy

Beag air Bheag - Little by Little. Also by the BBC, this is a slightly more advanced series than Speak Gaelic, but hosted by the familiar John Urquhart. I can't find the exact CEFR level, but I seem to remember it being advertised as B1-2

BBC ALBA - The BBC's Scottish Gaelic programs. I occasionally scroll through their iPlayer. Some of the shows have captions which I find helpful, although not all do. Children's TV is always a great way to learn a new language as it is designed with children learning the language in mind. I think I saw they had some Moomin Valley last time I looked

Faclair nan Gèidheal - The Dictionary for Gayls (gay/queer Gaels). This is a great resource filled with a tonne of terminology relating to the LGBTQ+ community. This is where I get vocab like tar-ghnèitheach and neò-bhìnearaidh from

Open Book Reading - An organisation who run Gaelic speaking, reading and writing sessions both in person and online. I'd recommend looking at their Eventbrite page

The Mega Folder - I'm sure people have seen me talk about this before. I'd personally recommend Scottish Gaelic in Twelve Weeks

Editing this to specify that Gaelic means the Scottish variety. If people keep tagging this as Irish I swear to God

[ariicandy]

╭・Being Miles’ Younger Sibling !!

inspired by tiktoks on my fyp ++ been on my mind

Grammar mistakes, I’ll edit when I wake up

✦﹒Miles is 1000% very and sometimes overprotective of you before being bit by the spider and after. New York is a city of cause and he just wants to keep you safe as your brother and as well as spiderman.

✦﹒He always helps you with subjects you struggle with that he is good at, he’s also very patient so don’t worry stressing over the work while he’s there!! He’s been there and doesnt want you to get overwhelmed by it like how he did.

✦﹒Either, you found out he was spiderman when he was eating at that burger place with Peter B. walking by and/or getting a drink. Or he either told you because of the calls and messages you sent to him when your parents were trying to contact him. (This happened in itsv incase u forgot)

✦﹒you probably have heard him talking about Gwen to you a few times or by his sketch book when u are in his room telling him something cause Mama morales told you to tell miles. But when YOU have a crush he becomes all detective on who this person is and if they’re good for you.

✦﹒You probably will have to cover for him a lot due to him being spiderman and randomly disappearing, this will come in handy when you’re the little angel so they will believe you either way. He buys you stuff or takes you somewhere wherever you wanna go to make up for all the coverings you are doing for him just to not get him in trouble.

✦﹒along side with covering up for him, he will also tell you stuff not to do that will make you get in trouble cause he doesn’t want to influence you from all the things he has to do as spiderman. A little conversation goes like this, “don’t break into builds that’s breaking the law.” “But you always break into buildings as spid-“ “HEY we dont talk about that. >:((”

✦﹒if Miguel talks about u being a possible canon for him like how his dad is. He WILL get defensive AND RIOT. He will not take it very well you having to die just for him to have similar spiderman stories like everyone else’s.

Miguel - “Your sibling is possible a canon event”

Miles - “WHAT NUH UH [your name] is not!!”

✦﹒when he is getting chase by the whole spider society, all he could think about is your tragic death if he doesn’t stop the spot from destroying everything. He was relieved and happy when he made it back home only to find out he was in the wrong universe and has to deal with his other self that was supposed to be bitten by the spider instead of him..

Now if you were also a spider-person along side him…

✦﹒miles would be over protective on strategies of how to defeat a villain even if their a villain of the week. He doesn’t want you hurt like you guys were with fighting king pin :(( so you sometimes have to rebel and fight them so miles can see you can okay do it just fine! He does get mad but as long as you’re okay he’s okay too

✦﹒u both have to work together on covering each other whenever one of you disappear or have to fight together. He is grateful that you both aren’t in trouble, he’ll take the blame if you get caught so you don’t have to blame yourself for patrolling extra instead of arriving sooner than usual.

✦﹒you both sometimes just go out for a swing or go sit somewhere in ny and sit in comforting silence since nobody can understand this spiderman thing, you have each other against the world. That’s a whole lot to take in but miles is glad he atleast had someone to rely on whenever he’s in trouble or just something been bothering him, he also sends his shoulder to you whenever you need something off your chest or just talk abt being a spider person.

✦﹒when you and Miles were being chased he was always looking to his lefts and rights to see you were okay. He would send a web to you to go up ahead of him just so you can make it, it’s also the reason why he got body slammed by Miguel. He was quick to grab you and pushed you away so you didn’t get hurt. His top priority is not getting you hurt even if it means if he gets hurt :((

✦﹒Miles is like that big older sibling that pulls you aside when someone is being rude and/or threatening. He was like that when inside the go home machine. Holding your hand not letting you go infront of Miguel while he was trying to open?? The cage of your designated dimension. Miles didn’t let go when you guys arrived after being sent by the machine, he took of his mask to breathe and check if you were also okay from that whole thing.

✦﹒During that scene where he was telling his mom about the spot his arch nemesis, he quickly told you to hide by going invisible and to be behind the door so it shows it was only him. You both were really confused when your mom/Mama Morales said “who’s spiderman??”. Following him slowly out if his room still being invisible till it hit you both. Glitching.. miles looked at you leading to connect the dots when uncle Aaron arrived.

✦﹒at the rooftop with uncle Aaron looking everywhere to see New York in a whole another state than yours. Your spider sense go off dodge a attack that was gonna hit both of you, you were then injected with something that made you fall asleep, hitting the floor.

✦﹒ Waking up you were tight to a punching bag with miles, you start to look for your surroundings when miles also started to wake up. You were being lifted up a bit til uncle Aaron moved you guys around to start playing music. Miles tried talking Aaron but he got near being punched in the face by it.

✦﹒”I’m not.” Uncle Aaron walks away from both you and miles only to see someone watching you from above. They drop down from the rails on the ceiling to walk towards you both only to find out he’s Miles Mórales, The prowler.

[agirlandherquill]

alrighty, so being tagged by @katwritesshit means i'm up for a very interesting tag game so here goes

rules: answer as many (or as few) of the questions about your WIP as you can

What was the first part of your WIP that you created? - might be my favourite question of the lot but for me at least, it's pretty simple, i start with an idea - a theme of sorts I suppose, and I wanted to write about a heist, I wanted treachery, danger, and crime (lots and lots of crime), and from there I spun the rest of my story

If your story was a TV show, what would the intro song be? - consulting my many, many Spotify playlists has made answering this one very difficult (shoutout once again to @katwritesshit for The World Ender because I love that song) but I'm going to have to say Dinner and Diatribes by Hozier or As It was, also by Hozier, most likely because I've spent a great majority of this story listening to Hozier along the way, since Wasteland Baby is one of my favourite albums and it fits so so well

Who are your favourite character(s) and why? - I feel as though I'm committing to a betrayal here by not saying the character who is supposed to be the main protagonist but I'm going to go for Fenley, purely because his cynical, overall dark demeanour has been the most entertaining to write (and his POV contains some of my favourite scenes of the novel)

What other pieces of media could share a fan base with your WIP? - now this one is FUN. especially since I draw inspiration from so so many things, Throne of Glass, The Cruel Prince, The Mummy (one of my all time favourite movies), Now You See Me, The Witcher - just to name a few, I'm not even going to mention the inspiration for the combat scenes because action movies are just (insert chef's kiss)

What has been your biggest struggle while writing your WIP? - truth be told, finding the time to write, as this labour of love has taken me a solid four (ish, I think) years to write, a lot has happened, I've grown with my novel which is to me at least, a very heartwarming thing

Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them! - sadly there aren't any major animal characters in my story, my characters use horses for transport most of the time but that's about it

How do your characters get around? - well, when they aren't on horseback they're either walking or sprinting for their lives

What part of your WIP are you working on right now? - edits, dreaded, dreaded edits - just kidding I'm loving getting to dive into the earlier parts of my novel and change bits as I go, I'm falling in love with the story all over again and I'm only editing Chapter 7/40(something, the current number escapes my mind)

What aspects of your WIP do you think will draw people in? - hopefully the sheer and utter chaos of unlikely thieves trying to do an impossible thing, the characters are my favourite sort to read about, and the tropes (not giving too much away I do enjoy a good mystery :) )

and that's about it, this was super fun so thanks for the tag!

and passing the metaphorical torch on, I'm going to tag: @the-ellia-west @somethingclevermahogony @unlikelycreationwasteland @leotheponderer @alwri-tes and of course anyone else that would like to give it a go! (being new at tag games appears to be my fatal flaw since i have very little clue who to tag, but here you go!)

(and as usual in my rambly responses, very, very little read through, but in my defence this is a late night post so I feel as though the grammar-police might cut me some slack :) )

[mixelation]

i thought about replying to this post, but then decided it'd be better to make my own. tl;dr OP states that they don't mind a lot types of comments AO3 writers commonly complain about and then calls for writers to read their comments in good faith. i was going to just scroll by this as it seemed to be presented as "this is my personal preference," but then OP calls for more writers to share their feelings. so i thought it might help to explain why i personally don't like certain types of comments

first, OP brings up pointing out typos multiple times. i absolutely despise having typos pointed out, although personally i don't know any other writers who care too much. i delete comments that just point out typos with no other commentary, and the fact that i don't delete comments with actual comments AND a typo pointed out is mostly because the idea makes me feel bad for the commenter. my personal hatred for the typo comments is linked more to being bullied for being dyslexic than anything else, but i do think a list of typos with nothing else is a pretty rude comment, and it ties into why giving unsolicited "constructive criticism" is, imho, rude or at the very least largely annoying

a lot of people say unsolicited concrit is bad because "fic is free." this isn't the reason. it's still rude to personally contact a writer with your criticisms even if you paid for it (assuming you didn't, you know, commission it or otherwise have a right to give such feedback). it's because concrit is essentially useless unless the person providing it understands the goals of the writer and wants to help the writer to those goals. on ao3, the writer's goal might have been to write a little story in one sitting. it might have been to write something hyper self-indulgent and so niche that it makes no sense to any other human being. the writer's goal might not be anything that would necessitate concrit at all. and, no offense, but most "constructive criticism" from random people on the internet is just "you didn't write the story i personally wanted to read" rather than anything that has to do with the story itself. on top of that, when i give people stuff for spelling and grammar, a stunning percentage of the time, people make "corrections" which are simply unnecessary or flat out incorrect. you are not a copy editor, and unless the writer asked in their notes, they have not asked you to edit. don't do it.

also, when you point out typos, there's an implied assumption you expect the writer to fix them. otherwise, why point them out? and the writer has no obligation to do things for you

other types of comments in the post:

‘I don’t usually like this ship but this fic made me feel something’ - I don't personally mind this one unless the tone is REALLY hostile to whatever ship (or trope, or character, or whatever). The reason why this one is often construed as rude is that the writer presumably is a fan of the ship, since they're writing about it. If you criticize other fics about the ship, then you might be criticizing things the author really enjoys. I think tone is a big factor here; this genre of comment can get way more hostile than OP's example.

‘looking forward to the next update’ / ‘I hope you update soon!’ - The wording of both of these is mild, but keep in mind writers with lots of fics have likely fielded a decent number of "update now you [slur]" comments. Also this is inappropriate to say on a fic marked completed (surprisingly common!). My experience on AO3 is that the really aggressive "update now!!" comments are fewer than they used to be and fewer than on FFN, but a lot of writers are still made tired by them. I'd suggest saying something more like "I'm excited to see where this goes" and make sure the fic isn't complete.

‘I love this fic but I’m curious about why you made [x] choice’ - I don't think most writers would mind this one, actually. Usually writers like it when you ask them questions about their work. If I gave any commentary, I'd be a bit careful about tone again-- if you just write "why'd you do [x]" with nothing else, it could come off abrasive or like you think the choice was bad.

i do agree with OP's contention that one's experience as a writer on AO3 will improve if they engage comments in good faith. i disagree with the idea that reading in good faith means every type of comment below outright harassment is appropriate or not annoying. i do not think reading in good faith and just accepting anything anyone says to you are the same. i also don't really believe that writers complaining about annoying comments is creating a comment scarcity, mostly because i don't believe in the purported comment crisis everyone is upset about, and also because i know there were entire LJ communities dedicated to asshole comments. it's not really new.

[soaps-mohawk]

Hii! I love your COD fic so much. I’m just beginning my own writing journey, and was wondering if you wouldn’t mind sharing what your outlining/writing process is like? ^^

Hi!! Hello!! Thank you!!! 💚 Aww, best of luck on your journey!! Writing is so hard but it can be so fulfilling at the same time!!

Hehe yeah, so I don't usually really do outlines for fics. I just kind of get a general idea of what I want to happen, and in the case of fics that follow plotlines of shows directly how the character/reader is going to fit into those events, and then just start writing what comes to me when it comes to me 😅 that's led to some fics getting quite out of hand, though, in the past.

I think CRCB is the first fic I've actually like physically laid things out as far as chapters and what I want to happen in them (which has changed about 10 times since I started around chapter 3). So yeah, I just kind of lay out how many chapters and what I want to happen in each chapter. I don't come up with everything that happens in the chapter right away. More filler type stuff I kind of just write as I go depending on what fits the vibe of the chapter. Sometimes things change a lot, and that's okay. My original outline had like 25 chapters and then the fic would be done and, well, as you can see we're nowhere near that now lol.

As far as the writing process, I just kind of take the outline and lay out what's going to happen in the chapter by section and then start writing. Sometimes I start at the beginning of the chapter and sometimes I start in the middle. Quite a few I've written the last scene first and then just kind of jumped around as inspiration came. I've found that's helped a lot with writer's block and motivation, as I can just kind of go where the words are flowing in the chapter and not have to worry about getting a certain section done before I write the next.

I also do a first draft where I can just lay out a basic description of something that happens if I get stuck and move on. If the words aren't flowing, drop a quick little summary of what happens in that scene and then move on and come back to it when you edit. Sometimes the first draft is just a super basic walk through of what happens and then I go back a second time and add in all the fluff and details. That can be really good if you're going to write smut scenes. Just get down the basics and then go through and add everything else later. Same with dialogue. Just write the lines and then go back and add in details, other things happening in the scene.

Your first draft does NOT have to be the final product. Sometimes it is. Sometimes the words are flowing and you can put out a masterpiece with just some light editing needed. Sometimes it takes two or three tries before you're happy with it. That happens to me a lot. Some chapters are basically first drafts with a little grammar/syntax editing. Others (like chapter 10) I wrote up, sat on it for two days, read it through and was unhappy with it, so I went back and added in like over 1,000 words of fluff and details.

So yeah. Take your time, sleep on things if you're not happy with them, don't be afraid to change things and jump around while you're writing. I know a lot of writers struggle with wanting to be linear in their writing and write a fic or chapter start to finish. You don't have to. Jumping around while writing has saved me so much stress.

I hope this helps, and best of luck with your writing. The best way to get good at it and figure out what works for you is just to write. Practice, practice, practice. It's taken me well over a decade to get to this point where I've figured out what works best for me and I'm still learning to this day.

[aussie-bookworm]

do you need to get *in the zone* to write? if so, how dya do it? any tips on just getting up off your ass and writing?

Oh yeah I definitely need to get in the zone to write. Some days are easier than others lol

As for tips… keep in mind these are my personal tips and it’s not one size fits all – you gotta figure out what works out for you personally

1. Have a good idea about what you’re writing

It might seem a bit obvious but having a good idea of what you want to write does help a bunch. I’m more excited to write if I know what scenes I’m working on and how they relate to the story.

Think about what scenes you want to include while you’re not writing, that way you have something to look forward to when you’re actually sitting in front of your word doc.

Scenes that I’ve been thinking about a lot just fly by because I’m excited to finally get the words out onto the page and I have a good understanding of how things might play out.

2. Set the vibe

Exactly what it says on the tin. Identify what helps you stay in the zone and ready to write and use it to your advantage.

Does listening to music help? Turn it up. Does a specific environment help you pay attention? Go there and if you can’t, try to replicate it. Is your font difficult to read or just plain boring? Change it Comic Sans!

(That last one is a joke but I’m not gonna stop you if you wanna change your default typeface to Comic Sans lmao)

Work on your own environment and make it as writer friendly as possible. But also never underestimate the power of changing things up once in a while.

For example: I typically write in my room where I know no one will distract me. I do short spurts of writing when I get home from work and do longer sessions on weekends. I put on a random playlist and shuffle it, but occasionally I change it up and play video game OSTs.

I tend to change the colour of my pages in Google Docs to be pastel colours so I can still see my words but feel less intimidated by the white of an empty page. I avoid snacking on chips while I write because I dislike grease and flavouring getting on my keyboard.

On the rare occasion when I’m on a weekend trip, I bring my laptop along so I can still do some writing during quiet moments before bed.

This is just what works for me. I’m well aware some of these environmental factors are very niche but you gotta experiment to see what works for you!

Speaking of your environment…

3. Minimise distractions but know when you need to take a break

As much as I would love to, you can’t write while scrolling through Tumblr lol. It’s a classic piece of advice but for a good reason. Focus on the page in front of you and put your phone far away from you if you have to.

But also recognise when you’ve had enough of writing. I’ve found that sometimes during a long writing session, I start to skip words or my descriptions start to not make any sense or something else. It’s a pretty good sign that you need to take a quick break and give your brain a refresh.

Go outside, put on a short YouTube video, do some chores, scroll tumblr, just do something short and sweet that will allow your brain a little break so you can get back to writing once you’re done.

If you are really struggling with staying focused and in the zone, I would recommend trying a writing sprint.

I only found out about these this year but they have been massively helpful in getting me to stay focused.

Set a timer for however long you want (I usually go for 10 minutes) and write non-stop until that timer goes off. You don’t even need to worry about grammar and spelling. Just get the words out and you can edit them later.

It helps identify when it’s break time and sometimes you’ll find that you’ll want to keep on writing after the timer has gone off.

Sprints also help out with the next tip…

4. Just get the dang words out on the page

I will be completely honest, it took me a really long time to understand this piece of advice because it felt obvious. Turns out I was wrong! So let me explain!

Your first draft is your worst version of your writing. No one else will see it so give yourself full permission to fuck up.

Write as many ‘he said, she sighed, they did x’ as you want! Write meta jokes for yourself when you can’t remember how much has passed in-universe! Write parts that you’re still on the fence about including! Write bad jokes you’re not sure will land! Write whatever you want!

Then, once you’ve finished writing and you’re onto proofreading, go through your work multiple times and note what you need to change.

Have you used the same word multiple times in this one sentence? Use another one. Do you like this theme that seems to have developed during the writing phase? Go back and include it more. Is this character repeating an action too many times? Find something else they can do that matches the mood.

Your first draft is supposed to be messy and incomplete. The proofreading stage is where you act as your own worse critic and fix any issues you see.

And if there’s still an issue you’re having trouble with while you proofread? Highlight it and come back later. It’s not going anywhere.

By actually focusing on your writing and getting words on the page, you are more likely to stay in the zone and keep writing! You just need to take that first step and start writing.

Hope that helps anon! At the end of the day, writing should be fun, so try to enjoy every step of the writing process, however you can ❤️

[casualsavant]

20 Questions More

This is a deeper and more detailed version of the 20 questions for AO3 fanfic writers. Thanks to @TetsujinOtaku88 for the tag. I'm doing this #Supercorp style.

1) How do you keep getting ideas for your ship / fandom?

I think the Supercorp Fandom is pretty self-perpetuating because the canon needs to be fixed and there's lots of AUs to put them in. Plus there are so many talented people whose art, video edits, and fanfic fuel each other.

2) Which authors inspire you in your fandom, and why are they so freakishly good?

Following the answer above I think the beauty of Supercorp is that it attracts really talented creators. I love reading @searidings, @jazzfordshire's fix-its and canon-adjacent stuff, @lgbtimelords, @coffeeshib, @mycatismyeditor, and @snowydragonscave just to name a few. They have such a deftness of language and an understanding of the characters that it's hard to stop reading!

3) Aside from the characters of your main ship, who are the characters you love to write?

I really love Sam Arias, Jess, and Alex. I wish I could get a better handle on Kelly because DANSEN forever. I also have a soft spot for Eliza and a deliciously evil liking for Lillian.

4) Are there pairings or tropes you know for sure you'd never write about? Which ones?

Karamel, Lames, Top Lena, Bottom Kara. To each their own. It's just not my thing.

5) What is your writing process and why is it cursed?

Carry around a little notebook to scribble ideas, lines, sometimes whole scenes. Figure out a rough outline / structure / plot. Do unnecessary amounts of research. Open doc file. Plunge into dismay and self-doubt. Watch the show. Get frustrated. Open the doc file. Be filled with despair and self-loathing. Get a blast of inspiration and productivity. Cycle through mental instability, writer's block, and actual writing. Get dragged by Kara and Lena to unanticipated places that derails what I intended to do. Sighing and doing what the muses want. The elation of completion. Struggling with summaries and tags. Posting. Crippling anxiety and running away from AO3. Lather, rinse, repeat.

6) What is your favorite part of your writing process?

The elation of completion. The unnecessary research is fun too.

7) What’s the weirdest thing you’ve had to research for a fic?

Cherry tree mutations and the structure of yakuza organizations in modern Japan.

8) Is there a particular writing rule you struggle with (grammar, spelling, tense, reality in general)?

Different tenses in the same document. Also it's and its.

9) What was your hardest scene to write so far and why?

Describing Kara's post-PZ night terrors and Lena’s fever dreams in Deliverance. Also the action sequence at the end of that story was so difficult.

10) Have your characters ever done something you didn’t expect, changing your plot completely?

ALL THE TIME.

11) If you could converse with any of the characters, who would it be and why?

Both of them. After I come to my senses and out of a dead faint because I was meeting them at all. And then I would die of sapphication.

12) What are some of the tropes or themes that you find yourself returning to in your writing?

Oh my usual tags are: light angst, tooth-rotting fluff, friends-to-lovers, Lena needs a hug, Kara gets a hug.

13) What's your most important resource as a writer?

Talking with other writers!

14) Can you share some of your strategies for editing and revising your work?

I usually give it some time before I edit so I can have relatively fresh eyes. Spell checking, punctuation, and grammar suggestions help you catch things but NOTHING beats reading it over yourself.

15) Which is worse: making the summary, picking the tags, or the anxiety when you post your fic?

Definitely the anxiety!!!

16) How do you define sucess for your fanfic - hits? Kudos? Comments? Bookmarks? Or just if you like it?

I think it's good to track kudos and I love getting comments. But ultimately I wrote for my enjoyment or for my peace of mind because the idea would not let me go.

17) Do you have a playlist for your favorite character / ship?

Nope but that's not a bad idea. 🤔

18) If fan art was going to be made from your work, which fic would you pick and which fan artist would you like to create it?

Wow I'd be thrilled if any of them got art. I am partial to the way @rustingcat draws Sakura blossoms though so maybe Cat for No Wrong Seasons.

19) How many WIPs do you currently have?

8 total. Finishing "the Arcana", "The Sound of Veracity" (Part 2), Prequel and Smutilogue of "Always With Me, Always With You", Supercorptober 2023 "Art" prompt, SG Mayhem fic, the Telepathy/Empathy fic, the Body Swap fic.

20) What's your advice to new fanfic writers?

I posted my first Supercorp story in March 2023 feeling it would be completely lost in this large fandom and having no hope for it. I felt that I was too late. That everything had been done (and done better). I did find readers who liked and some who really loved my work. But mostly I learned to write for myself, which has truly been a gift. Write for yourself. Write what you'd want to see. You'll get better at it over time.

Tagging but no pressure: @fyonahmacnally @nottawriter @chaotic-super @luthordamnvers @fazedlight

[spiritofhyena]

Black salt / witches' salt

WARNING: do NOT mix it up with the edible black salt for kitchen use. They are both called “black salt” but one is salt with activated charcoal or salt from a volcanic area that can be used in cooking, the other is a mix of salt, ashes, and other non-edible things used as a protection or banishing spell. I personally use it as a halfway between warding/protection and banishing as I add things usually associated with banishing.

I tried to search up the origin of the “witches’ salt” but I didn’t find anything solid (but also I made only a couple of quick searches on google because I was crunching time as I did this either before/after work or sometimes during slow moments at work) so, my best guess would be that its origin might be derived from the use of salt in many folkloric traditions as a protection or to purify, mixed a bit with a concept similar to the "witches' bottle", but I digress.

Disclaimer again: I wrote most of this during work time and edited it afterwards so I can't guarantee the form and grammar used.

I first made black salt after a couple of quick searches for protection and banishing spells that could help me in my practice, as I first started I was a bit of an idiot (to quote Set) and didn't keep anything to protect myself around when doing divination and other things.

With time I noticed that it's a good all-around protection and also, with a couple of tweaks, could be perfect to also banish in a "bounce back to sender" way.

There are different recipes on the Internet and among witchy communities but they mostly differ for some ingredients added (or not added) and I believe all would work… but surely, IMHO, if you tailor them to your needs it would be more effective.

This is what I made for myself, and I'll also include the "return to sender" version.

Tools you’ll need:

a jar with a lid to store it

mortar & pestle (not mandatory: I don’t have one so I use a tiny ceramic casserole and one of those wooden pestles for cocktails bc that’s what I had at home… use whatever could do the job)

a candle in the colour you associate with protection and warding

Ingredients:

salt (duh-)

ashes (either incense ashes, firepit ashes/charcoal, soot or you could also use activated charcoal)

eggshells powder

black pepper

rosemary

bay leaves

sage (kitchen kind is perfect!)

whatever herb you associate with protection

Process:

Honestly, you should do this however it feels right for you. You could cast a circle, call the elements or whatever. I don’t do that because it’s not part of my practice. You don’t even need to cleanse or anything if you don’t feel it’s necessary: it’ll work anyway.

Light the candle (ofc if you think it’s needed) and put the ingredients in the mortar, a little bit at a time, to grind them a bit and most importantly mix all of them. Focus on your intention, if you feel you need to recite something to enchant it then do it. Mix all the ingredients, I usually start with salt, add eggshell powder, all the other ingredients and then another bit of salt at the end to “close” everything.

If you want to give it a little “boost” you could write on a bay leaf “I am protected” or the like and then burn it (do it in a fireproof container! bay leaves are nasty burners and like to pop a lot!) to “activate” it and mix it to the rest of the ingredients.

When everything is all mixed, then you can pour it into the jar and close it. It’s up to you if you want to seal the lid with some wax or not. I do not do it because if I decide to redo it I can open it and clean the jar more easily before preparing the new black salt.

Again, it’s up to you if you want to charge it under the moonlight/sunlight or in some other way: do what you feel that's right to do.

And that’s it! Congrats you made black salt that will protect your space!

For the return-to-sender version:

add more pepper

slap also some paprika or better some chilli pepper powder

also put there some garlic

you can add other ingredients you associate with banishing

add a bay leaf (or also a piece of paper) with the intention written on it like “the harm/malicious intent is returned to who cast it” or whatever you feel right

complete!

[beatingtheouijaboardallegations]

about me:

lavender/lav

they/them

white Jew

nonspeaking since birth , full-time AAC user.

multimodal communicator. Sometimes I write posts with picture based AAC , sometimes text based AAC , sometimes type on computer keyboard with support person/friend help , sometimes type independently on phone with accessible keyboard app , sometimes use physical letterboard and communication & regulation partner (CRP) translates into typing and post for me.

I’m disabled. autistic epileptic and apraxic, have dysmotility or cyclic vomiting syndrome.

I’m non-binary/genderqueer and a lesbian.

I love plants / botany , lavender ( name checks out ) , surrealism , cats , folk music, Welcome to Night Vale, queer history and being in water.

Things to know about me / boundaries:

I’m a multimodal communicater and my writing style varies. in real life I try hard to type "properly" , use good grammar and punctuation to " prove that smart/competent " and "compensate" being nonspeaking. can vary a lot depending on what app / method I'm using , whether I'm typing independently or with support, level of language processing , motor control , lots of factors. I generally can process and use “correct” grammar when I have to but the language norms are very different on DD side of tumblr and am experiment with letting myself not correct everything I write. My style on here is also echolalic thing from other blogs that have seen.

please don’t involve me in debates about who can use what word or ask for my opinion about these debate. official position is I call myself nonverbal or nonspeaking in different context depending on what will piss people off more. (like in Spellers and RPM communities will call myself nonverbal, on tumblr will use nonspeaking more because nonverbal is more used term.)

please don’t call me low functioning or severely / profound autistic.

just as personal preference prefer not being on "lists of autistic people with high support needs" or "nonspeaking nonverbal people to follow." makes me feel like being used as a token and like being see as “ voice ” or represent group and not as full person. also don't like demand to translate mysteries of autism or whatever. will not do that.

related: not project “ single stories ” about nonspeaking experience on me. I don't have an intact mind. I'm not trapped inside. I love the nonspeakers I know who use these scripts because they easy to explain or because they resonate. But my dyspraxia and motor issues not The One Thing can sum everything to, neither is my language issues or co ocurring medical stuff or whatever else. please don’t reduce all of my experiences to one thing based on the labels and identities I carry.

I have trouble writing image descriptions because of visual processing problems and usually write a not very good one at first and then edit it.

I want to make my blog cognitively accessible to everyone. If you need plain language " translate " or summary for long post tell me and I will try!

(get most of these user boxes from Wikipedia. but others got from @dreamdropsystem. )

[lollytea]

Do you have a beta reader, and as a writer, do you need one in order for your work to be good? Also, as a writer, how do you know if you're doing enough to finally feel good enough with whatever you're trying to work on?

Do you have a beta reader?

Not at the moment, no. I had a beta for a total of one fic I wrote in December 2022. Everything else has been done on my own. You can probably tell because of all the grammatical errors.

Do you need one in order for your work to be good?

If you're asking on behalf on yourself, I will say that you don't NEED one, but I'd definitely recommend it. If you're referring to writing fanfics and you don't have anybody available to beta for you, then there's no harm in posting them without it. As I said, I do it all the time. BUT if you do have somebody who's willing, then yes, absolutely accept their help. Having a second pair of eyes to catch all the little mistakes helps a ton. Their assistance and corrections will also help you learn, and your work will get better as you go along.

If you're talking about, like, writing original fiction that you're hoping to publish, then it's a little less casual than fanfic. If that's the case, yes, try to find an editor.

If you're asking about me personally, then I'd say that I probably WOULD be a lot better at writing if I had one. As I said, grammar and linguistics are my weak points. My stuff would also be way neater and more polished if I had a beta who was given more creative liberties. For the one fic I wrote that was beta-ed, their job was mostly to comb through these big fat paragraphs and add commas, remove commas, etc. They made a few suggestions about rewording some of my sentences, but they also recognized that I was a lunatic who was very particular about the way I phrased things for whatever reason so they mostly focused on the grammar and punctuation.

If I had a beta that I gave full reign to do whatever they wanted, my work would probably improve by tenfold. Shorter, more straightforward, probably more impactful, less rambly. But my stuff is exhausting to deal with from an editing perspective. Massive and wordy and all over the place. I really could not expect somebody to spend their valuable time wrestling with all of that for free.

So I'm fine tipping along in my usual rambly way at the moment.

How do you know if you're doing enough to finally feel good enough with whatever you're trying to work on?

Well, there's no such thing as being "good enough" to make anything. I write for fun. It's not my job. I have nothing to lose.

I'm still learning. And I think I still have a long way to go. It's okay if I'm bad at it in the mean time.

Everything I write and post is just an example of me practising. Trying to figure out what works. What doesn't work. My writing is always getting better, then worse, then better, then worse again, in a constant cycle, but as long as I'm practising, I'm learning.

Don't burn yourself out. Write little bits at a time if you have to. Don't be scared that your idea is too ambitious for your skill level. Write it in your own way, even if you don't feel like you can pull it off. By doing that, you'll steadily get better. And if you want to rewrite it again in a few years when you finally feel like you have the skills to excecute it in the way you want, then you can always do that.

Even if you don't feel good enough for your own standards, you improve a little bit every time you work on something. That's what's matters.

I find it comforting to focus on the fact that I'm still learning, rather than the fact that I'm still not as good as I think I should be.

I don't think any of us will ever be "good enough" in our own minds. We'll never see ourselves as masters. It's an unattainable goal. But so long as we keep letting ourselves write "badly" we'll probably write a few masterpieces in the process.

[siriuslystargazing]

Sirius' Moving Castle PT2

I'm sorry it ended so quickly i wanted to get the chapter out ASAP

Edit:16/10/23 - Grammar and spelling changes :)

The morning sun broke through the windows, and a layer of frost still clung to the windows. Remus couldn’t keep warm. He tossed and turned as much as his old, weathered bones would let him. That was his first indentation to say what happened last night was definitely not a dream. Remus slid out of bed, his body still aching and feeling weaker than the night before. He looked down at his wrinkled hands; all the callouses he had built up being a cobbler were gone, just replaced by wrinkled, old, leathery skin. Remus wanted to cry. He could feel the tears pricking and the sob rising, but in his old age, how could he call? It was no use shedding tears. It was his fault for standing up to a wizard… who was also wicked and slated his mother's shop. Remus had a temper, and he didn’t keep it in check last night, resulting in such a harsh and cruel punishment. He never thought of himself as handsome or good-looking, just sort of plain and ordinary, nothing special. Remus wondered if that was the reason he was single…

Remus sat up, reaching out for the time; he grabbed his tarnished silver pocket watch. He was planning on polishing the damnd thing, but now his hands were laced with arthritis he feared he would never be able to shine the ornate stag design on the front. Remus sighed, clicking the button at the top, finding it a lot harder than before the face spang open, revealing it was ten twenty in the morning. Fuck. He was late for work. Remus always started his day at 6 am, grabbed breakfast and brought his mum a cup of tea before starting on a new pair of boots. Remus shuffled off the bed, hitting the cold hardwood floor. He hissed, wrapping his blanket tighter around his body, trying to keep what little warmth he had trapped. He pottered around his room, gathering his clothes, when a knock sounded at his door, followed by his mother's concerned voice.

“Remus darling, are you awake?”  

Remus panicked. He was going to have to reply, or she would be in here in seconds. Remus gulped, “Yes,--” his voice! It was so old and broken, all croaky like his grandfather was

“My goodness, you sound terrible. I'm coming–”

“--no, Don’t! I don't want to get you sick!” Remus called back, praying that Hope would not enter.

“If you say so, dear,” her sorrowful voice broke out “, I'm just heading into the city. Peter is looking after the shop, so do shout to him if you need anything.” 

“I will.” Remus waited for Hope to leave before getting dressed. He went over to the wash basin and looked into the small mirror above the pale of water.

No matter how many times he glanced at his wrinkled face, Remus was still shocked, but at least his clothes suited him more. His brown slacks and well-worn mandarin shirt finally found the old decrepit owner the garments craved. Remus pulled on his shoes. At least he was still agile enough to tie the laces and then start packing a small case. If a wizard cursed him, Remus was sure another wizard or witch would help him reverse the curse. Part of him hoped he would run into that handsome blond wizard again. Remus shook his head at the perverted, though, of course, the young, handsome wizard would never fall in love with him. It was silly. He grabbed his winter cloak from the hook and wrapped it around his old body, pulling to the hood to conceal his face, and headed downstairs.

Peter was anxiously wringing his hands as usual. He hated being put in charge. He had the backbone of a chocolate eclair when it came to angry customers. Remus shook his head but headed to his workshop, pulling one of the pairs of boots he finished the day before. They looked about the same size as the wizard who saved him. Perhaps if he were to bump into him again, he could bargain the boots as a way out of the curse. Remus opened his case, put the shoes inside with the spare clothes he packed, and headed to the kitchen, grabbing a loaf of bread and some cheese for his long journey.

Remus headed out the back entrance, not like Peter would have noticed anyway and made his way through the streets. Local men were discussing the war efforts. Remus just tuned them out. What was the point in ruining what little life he presumed he had left over that stupid war? As Remus continued through the village, the built-up areas began to stretch out, leaving small cottages and the local farmer at the end of the road with his wagon. Remus paced himself over to the farmer and his farm hand, asking if he could hop on the back of his cart towards the wastes. The farmer agreed but was still giving Remus a lecture on how dangerous his trip sounded for how old he was. Remus finally started to understand why some old people were so grumpy…

By four that afternoon, Remus had reached the Farm and the entrance to the wastes. Now, when people who have never visited the Kingdom of Griffdom are told about the wastes that connect the land, a few people assume it looks barren of life.  Black sludge coats the ground where grass should grow, and all manner of disgusting creatures live there. Still, in fact, the Western Wastes is beautiful, picturesque, even—rolling hills filled with wildflower meadows and distant snowcapped mountains. To any budding walker or hiker, it was the perfect trail, but to a wrinkled older man like Remus, it was actually hell on earth.

After the overly kind farmer's wife tried to persuade Remus to stay in the valley, Remus was very thankful, but he needed to find help and sped up the cliffside. Remus was sure he had made good progress and decided to stop for a while, pulling out his bread and cheese pack. He stared out to the village below. He had barely made any progress, and his body was starting to ache. The wind was getting too cold.  He looked down at his food. He still had half a loaf left, so Remus decided to pack the rest away and pull himself up with a satisfying round of cracks and pops as he sighed, straightening his back and continuing; at this point, Remus really wanted a walking stick. He looked everywhere for one, but the bushes all had thorns in them or weren’t long enough for what he deemed his freakishly long, stupid Lyall gene legs. His father was a skinny bastard like him. Remus was starting to think the curse was just having a mini-giant as a father. Still, Remus pressed on up the hill until he noticed a broken tree. Remus headed over to it. The stalk was thicker than he wanted, but it was long enough. As Remus got closer, he noticed a broken snare trapped within the ropes was a magnificent white stag! Well, the head of one followed by a human body that was covered in Hay? Remus couldn’t quite tell it was like a strange straw-like dress, as if he was a peculiar animal scarecrow. He wasn’t surprised he was in the wastes after all.

“Holy–” Remus slid down the bank and into the hole the stag-man was trapped in. Being old wasn't as bad. The strange second winds with adrenalin were fun. Remus pulled at the metal wire. The stag was surprisingly docile for such a grand, wild and awkward creature.  Remus gave the stage a few reassuring words of encouragement before releasing the final snare. The stag didn’t move, and Remus was growing impatient with the thing. 

“Well? I freed you. Do I at least get some form of repayment?” Remus grumbled; the Stag man didn’t so much as bleat or do anything; it just blinked. Remus shuddered. It was slightly unnerving, “as if I should be so lucky... Well, if you see a cane or anything, I'd really appreciate it,” Remus sighed. So, instead of getting another curse, Remus clawed his way out of the hole, dusting himself off and continuing on his journey. The wind had begun to pick up, and the white fluffy clouds soon wooshed by; Remus held on to his cloak as the wind worked against him up the hill when he heard the rush of another person running after him. Remus looked over his shoulder, the wind taking his hood and blowing through his floppy grey hair. “What on earth?” 

It was the Stag-Man running after him, his straw entire body cloak billowing in the wind, and in his hands was a cane. Remus’ jaw hung open as he watched the beast-man run up to him and offer the cane with a bowed head. Remus looked down at the outstretched cane, taking it. 

“Thank you, it’s perfect.” Remus looked up, smiling as tears pricked in his eyes. After the day he had, this was probably the kindest thing anyone had done for him; the stag-man began waving his arms around, trying to stop Remus from crying. It worked. He was now laughing.

“If you really want to help me, you could find me a place to stay, a house, a cottage, anything.” The stag-man blinked and ran down the hill. Remus smiled, waving him off. It seems you get more cunning in old age. Remus was never one to ask people for help; he favoured his independence too much, plus he hated being a bother to people. But he realised he couldn’t rely on his wits alone. He needed help, and if support came in the shape of a man with the head of a white stag dressed in a straw dress cape, then so be it.

The sky began to darken as the white clouds rolled away, and thick grey ones blew in from the east. Remus looked up, watching the breaks when the setting sun would break through. He sighed, catching a glimpse of the village he hadn’t gotten very far. Remus tried to push on but found the cold had set into his joints. He decided to stop pulling his cloak tighter when he heard the thrumming of machinery and soot blowing in the wind. He looked up to the sky, gasping at the sheer sight of the war machine flying in the air. Its iron-clad underbelly blocks the sweet sun and what little warmth it provides.  Remus got up as he smelt the sweet smoke of a log fire. He wondered if he had stumbled upon a lodge or something as he followed the smell of fire only to be met with the clanking and groaning of a mishmashed land ship thingy– in fact, Remus had no idea what the fuck that thing was, but it was definitely ugly looking. That meant one thing. It belonged to the Wizard brothers Sirius and Regulus Black.

It looked like a castle. A black house sat at the top with three towers, then a second house attached to a balcony, and then a face and the Stag-man chasing it and waving at Remus. 

“I know I said I wanted a place to stay”, Remus started “, but not the Black Brothers moving castle”, Remus exclaimed, clutching his cloak tightly as the feisty castle settled on the ground with a groan, its large mouth like thing on the front opening and a tail with a door rested on the floor smoke huffed out of the castle like a giant sigh. Remus wandered over to the door. The stag-man tilted his head, knowing he wouldn't fit, but Remus would. He knocked on the rickety old wooden door, but there was no answer. Usually, people wouldn’t just trespass, but he was old and tired and old, and he felt entitled to it, seeming that it technically was Sirius' fault that he— Right. That.

Remus stepped inside, and a soft blanket of warmth lulled him in further, but he turned to the stag man. “I can’t thank you enough, Stag-Man! I hope you find happiness one day.” Remus felt younger in his soul as he smiled at the beast man. He didnt reply, just bowed his head. 

Remus stepped inside the ‘castle’, staking out the place. It was manky and disgusting. A thick layer of dust coated every surface and furnishing in the limited sight. He continued up the steps. Open spellbooks with coffee stains were strewn across the already cluttered table. Remus winced at the sight. Who could treat books like that? It was bloody barbaric; considering the owners were wizards, you would think they would have more respect for literature. Remus sighed, using a wooden spoon to push the filth of the book. He couldn’t make heads or tales of the script.

“That is some curse you have their gramps”, a crackly voice came from behind Remus. He whipped around, arming himself with a spoon. “Calm down and hand some of that wood, would you? I’m starting to crackle”, the voice came out again. Remus looked down at the fire pit. A tiny orange ember clung to a log swamped in a mountain of soot. Remus pulled up a dining chair and fed the fire. Two eyes popped out, and two stingy arms began peeling the bark off. Remus just stared in awe. “that is a nasty spell; it won’t be easy to break.” The fire sighed, munching on the fresh logs. Remus's mouth hung open. “oof, and you can’t even talk about it! Yikes, you must have really pissed off the wrong wizard,” Remus composed himself. This was happening. He was about to talk to an actual fire.

“Are you... Are you Sirius?” Remus asked, getting closer and letting the heat warm his weary bones

“No, I'm the great and powerful Fire Demon Calcifer.” Calcifer grew bigger as colourful flames whipped around him. Before coughing and returning to his average size, Remus contemplated an idea. What if he asked this demon to help him

“Could you break the spell on me?” Remus asked on the edge of his seat. Calcifer laughed, peeling another strip of bark.

“Sure, as long as you break the spell that keeps me in this rat-infested dump.”

“A fool's bagin then.” Remus sat back in his hair, tapping his cane on the wooden floor. He inwardly cringed. That was something Lyall would do. 

“No, a good bargain”, Calcifer began to beg. “Look, Sirius chained me to this palace and worked me to near death all day, every day!... Look, if you figure out the secret to this spell, it breaks, and that means I can break your licker split.” Calcifer looks at Remus with triumph in his strange fire eyes; Remus scoffs, sinking further into his chair, his eyes going heavy as the swell lul of sleep begins to take hold of him. “

“All right then, calcium–” Remus yawned, smacking his lips together like an old man. “it's a deal.”

Regulus urgently came down, buttoning his waistcoat and fixing his jet-black hair so it didn’t look so ‘I just got out of bed.’ 

“Portheaven door”, Calcifer grumbled, irritated by the constant knocking. Regulus made an angry noise, grabbing a cloak from the coat rack and stopping at Remus’ sleeping form. 

“Who is this?” Regulus pointed at Remus, who was pretending to be asleep 

“Port–haven–Door!” Calcifer hissed. Regulus rolled his eyes, donning his disguise and going down the steps. 

“Changing to Porthaven stand by”, Regulus muttered, turning the door handle, and the little circle with an iron balck arrow clicked and changed to the colour blue. Remus watched through the corner of his eye, Regulus had opened the door to a small harbour town. A fat mayor was stating there two seamen by his side, he was there requesting the presence of the great Wizard Jenkins, whoever that old fart was. Still, Regulus was quick to shoo them off and closed the door, thumbing through the summons letters he was given and discarding them on the cluttered table. Remus was already up and feeding a few logs to Calcifer, trying his best to be invisible, but when you are a strange old man in a castle, you sort of stand out. Regulus just watched, folding his arms. 

“And who might you be, Gramps?” Regulus started. Remus continued to feed the fire and returned to his seat. 

“Calcifer, let me in”, he hummed. Warming his wrinkled hands, Regulus looked at the fire, raising an eyebrow.

“I did not!” Calcifer spewed embers. “he wandered in from the wastes.” 

Regulus stiffened. “The wastes! Did you make sure he isn't a wizard, let alone a Death Eater?!” Regulus hissed 

“Do you really think I would let a Death Eater in here–” the doorbell rang, making Calcifer wince. “Porthaven door again”, he sighed. Regulus rolled his eyes again. Well, if the old man was not a wizard, he supposed he could stay. Regulus once again donned his disguise and answered the door to a young girl asking for a spell. Remus was in awe once more as the bell rang again, and Calcifered announced it was the Gryffindor door. He watched Regulus turn the handle, and the circular plate clicked to the red and just behind was the royal capital. 

“Do you mind? I’m trying to work here, Grandpa,” Regulus grumbled.  Remus took a step back, trying to curb his enthusiasm. 

“Sorry, it’s just–”

“Ugh, whatever, I’m getting something to eat.” Regulus removed his cloak disguise, heading to the table covered in exotic foods and prime cuts of meat, opting for the bread and cheese; Remus frowned. No wonder he was so skinny if he ate bread and cheese. All the time 

“Don’t you want some eggs and bacon?” he asked, filling a basket full of eggs and grabbing the fresh bacon hashes.

“As much as I would, Sirius isn’t here, so I can’t use the fire.”

Remus scoffed, grabbing the black pan that had barely been used since it was purchased off the wall. “don’t worry, I can cook”, Remus hummed. Regulus stopped watching Remus pot around. He snorted. “Good look, getting Caclifer to do what you want. He’s as stubborn as they come.” 

Calcifer stuck his tongue out, and whisps of green ember flicked off as he glared at Remus. “yeah, I won’t take any orders from you, gramps.”

Remus ignored him, setting the basket down and rolling his shirt sleeves up. “all right, Calcifer. Let’s get cooking.”

“I am a powerful fire demon. I. Don’t. Cook!” Calcifer roared, coughing a little on his flames, but Remus was unfazed, raising an eyebrow

“Really, well, I suppose Sirius would enjoy knowing about our little bargain”, Remus whispered to the angry fire, which quickly died down. 

“You. Wouldn’t. Dare.”

“Try me.” 

Calcifer glared at Remus as he placed the pan down on top of him and added bacon. 

“Here’s another curse… may all your bacon burn”, Calcifer muttered as Regulus watched on; Remus actually got the stubborn fire to listen to him. The bacon happily sizzled in the pan when Remus asked Regulus his name. Regulus was hesitant to introduce himself but realised if Calcifer obeyed and trusted the older man, he supposed he could too. Remus happily fired more bacon. Regulus helped by finding the kettle when the door clicked to black, drawing everyone's attention.

Sirius stepped through the door front, the inky void behind him; his blond hair lay limp, covering his eyes; concern quickly brushed over Regulus' face. Remus also stopped cooking, looking over at the wizard. So Sirius really was the one who saved him!