#human disaster will solace

[thewitchandtheassassin]

Life, Death, and the Space in Between Part Two (Agatha Harkness x Reader x Rio Vidal)

Summary: Centuries later, you find yourselves reunited once more.

Words: 2430

Warnings: Canon violence, language, arguing, etc.

A/N: I hate how obsessed I am with this couple but here we fuckin' are.

-X-

Three Centuries Later

Sipping your morning coffee, you idly flipped through the newspaper as you savored the stillness of the early hours. You had sorted through your expected duties, leaving you with a bit of time to yourself before the cosmic powers of Life dragged you back into its grasp. You may never be human, but you could at least enjoy a few mortal pleasures.

As the door to your temporary abode slammed opened, you sighed and tossed aside the paper.

“Hello, my love,” you greeted with an easy smile, tilting your head back to accept the deep, probing - almost furious - kiss from Rio’s painted lips. The aggression took you by surprise but you melted into the embrace, offering her whatever solace and reprieve she needed.

Dragging your chair back from the table, she dropped down into your lap, tossing an arm around your shoulders while downing the remnants of your drink. Protest died on your lips, knowing it would be useless to argue with the lady of death. It wasn’t abnormal for her and, honestly, you didn’t mind the quirk. You found it amusing.

“I found her.”

Head tilting curiously, you cupped Rio’s cheek, wiping a speck of blood from her cheek and knocking a piece of shattered glass from her dark tresses. “Who?”

“Agatha,” she practically growled, glaring at the dark wood table before turning her eyes to you. They softened, though you could see the fire raging within. “I wasn’t looking for her per se, but I did find her.”

Pressing your lips together thoughtfully, fighting your initial reaction, you slowly nodded. “And how did that go?”

“We fought. I made her front door explode.” She said it so casually that all you could do was blink up at her. “Turns out, little miss Scarlet Witch kept her trapped in Westview. She has no power now. Won’t be long until she has some poor idiots singing that song so she can rectify that.”

It was stated emotionlessly but knowing your former lover was mortal had clearly shaken Rio. Before, you could rely on Agatha being formidable. Powerful. To be lacking her purple, well…

“I see you didn’t reap her.”

Rio rolled her eyes, fingers playing with the baby hairs on the nape of your neck. “No. I…”

“She’s our weak spot,” you acknowledged, running a finger over the slope of her nose. “You and I are inevitable. A perfect balance. She was always our anomaly and we love that about her. Even if she still hates us three hundred years later.”

Pressing her forehead against yours, Rio poured. “Why doesn’t she want us?”

“She does,” you cooed, nipping at the pushed out lip teasingly. “She’s always been our stubborn girl. She just refuses to deal with her grief and instead-“

“Sinks a fucking unsinkable ship? Causes massive disasters so she can throw another tantrum or make a point?” she snarled, though there was little heat behind it. She’d always appreciated the dramatics of Agatha’s gestures, even if it often upset the natural order and balance you carefully crafted together.

“She was always incredibly skilled at getting our attention,” you chuckled, letting your mind wander back to the woman you remembered centuries ago. “There was never a dull moment when Agatha was around.”

“I miss her,” she admitted, shoving her head into your neck as her inhumanly sharp teeth scraped the flesh. “I cut her hand… and then I licked it clean. Tasting how mortal she is now is upsetting. I always liked how the purple sparked against my tongue.”

“If you were anyone else, I would mention how unsanitary that is,” you murmured, head tipping as a cool mouth explored the familiar expanse.

“Shut up.”

Tangling your fingers in her hair, you yanked hard and felt the lust rebound through your connection as the low moan met your ears.

-X-

As the dirt and grass shifted, the Road making way for a new witch to sink its proverbial teeth into, a passing thought flickered through Agatha’s mind but she brushed it away with a simple mental wave of her hand.

There’s no possible way. The universe can’t hate me that much.

Watching with bated breath, the newly formed coven gasped as two sets of limbs and bodies began to crawl from the wet soil.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding!” Agatha shouted, years of resentment burning in ocean eyes as you righted yourself from the fresh grave. Her stomach rolled with anguish - guilt, pain - at the brief expression of hurt that crossed your features before you leaned down, offering a hand to your other half and tugging her up from the hole she’d clawed her way out of. “Never mind, the universe does hate me.”

Teen glanced between Agatha and you, his eyes wide with fear and excitement.

“Heard you guys were having a party,” Rio greeted, her usual nonchalance in full bloom as she wandered closer to Agatha, forever drawn like a moth to its doom. “We were in the neighborhood.”

A flower blossomed from her fingers, beautiful in such drab surrounds.

“Surprise,” she gasped, eyes wide and bordering on deranged. “My lady.”

Always in step with your antagonistic lover, you were quick to wrap an arm around Agatha’s waist as she lunged at Rio, glaring at the smug woman pointedly.

“Come now, Agatha, it’s not worth the effort,” you murmured, trying to ignore how your heart fluttered at the close proximity.

She screamed in frustration, wrenching herself from your arms before storming away in a huff. The teenager chased after her, leaving you to stand awkwardly before Agatha’s makeshift coven while Rio petted the massive fucking spider on her jacket.

You might’ve been Lady Life but holy fuck, that thing was huge and kind of freaked you out. All life was important and sacred but it needed to stay far, far away from you.

“What’s up? I’m Rio.” You gagged as she guided the damned thing into her clothes, inching away as her eyes went wide and she crept towards you. “Aw, what’s wrong, baby? He’s sweet.”

“I’m sure,” you responded, stepping backwards warily. “He can be sweet… over there. Away from me.”

She growled playfully, stomping at you and cackling when you scurried back a few steps.

“So, you’re a green witch, huh? B-both of you?” the woman you recognized as Alice Wu-Gulliver. You remembered her poor mother, begging for protection for the young Alice. Watched Rio take Lorna’s soul when the curse overcame her.

“Less a green witch,” Rio replied, tilting her head in such an adorable way that you had to bite your lip to suppress a giggle, “and more the green witch.”

That frightening tone of Death startled the huddled women but you simply rolled your eyes, hooking an arm through Rio’s.

“She’s a green witch. I just came along for the ride, it seems,” you mused, studying the scenery around you curiously. To be standing on The Road, a place forged by Agatha’s lies and quick wit, was not quite what you’d expected when you’d been yanked from your home. It was born from a maelstrom of bullshit and naïve witches believing that power could simply be procured instead of earned.

How is this…

Dark eyes cut in your direction, a similar interest gleaming back.

Strolling down the dirt path, Rio whistled, knocking you into a patterned step-skip combination that was so innocent and bizarre that it made you cackle. You could hear Agatha ahead, speaking with Teen in a semi-quiet manner but your ears were keen to whispers. Despite the unsettling nature of The Road and the lack of understanding how, Rio seemed completely at home in this strange place.

It’s all real, but none of this is natural, she mused, chewing her lip thoughtfully as she peered around. I don’t think any of these witches are capable of changing reality itself but I guess I’ve seen weirder.

“I can’t tell if I hate her or if I want her number,” Jen whispered to the group behind you, nearly swallowing her tongue when Rio abruptly paused to turn and face them. An eerie grin crossed her flawless features and she waved before twisting back in your grasp and continuing onward.

“What a scary bitch,” Lilia breathed.

Should I be worried? you teased, snorting at Rio’s brow rising high.

Before you could blink, she had you shoved against a tree, tongue shoved into your mouth incessantly as she both made her point to the gawking witches and used the opportunity as an excuse to grope you. It was demanding and needy, completely indecent, and by the time she was willing to release you from her clutches, your knees were shaking.

“I-I was kidding,” you said breathlessly, panting as a familiar smirk curled the edges of her lips.

“Oh, I’m aware,” she purred, tugging you away from the still-gaping group and following after your former lover. “But we both know you loved that. You like staking your claim.”

Sliding your hand into her back pocket, you shrugged nonchalantly.

-X-

Standing at the doorway of the music booth, your eyes glided along the lithe form of Agatha Harkness. She looked good, especially in a 70’s outfit that probably would’ve looked weird on just about anyone else. It had been so long since you’d really gotten a moment to just appreciate her. Remember every dip and curve…

“Hey,” you grunted, nodding at Agatha’s drifting hand. “Must everything be a ploy with you?”

Dark eyes flittered to the witch’s wiggling fingers and she snorted, shaking her head. “You never change, do you, Aggie? Nice try, though. I almost bought it.”

“Of course you protect her. Again,” Agatha sneered, venom on her tongue and fury in her eyes at the perceived slight. “All you ever do is protect her. You can’t -”

“Bullshit,” you cut in sharply, glaring at the offended woman you still loved. It was a nightmare ignoring the burning ache in your chest, but you refused to let her grief insult your relationship with them. “I protected you just as fiercely. I went against my nature - my very being for you. So if you want to hate me, fine, but don’t you ever say I didn’t love you just as much I love her. That I wouldn’t have done anything for you. That I didn’t do everything I possibly could for you. And for him.”

Staggering away from your sudden outburst, Agatha stared at you with misty eyes. What you said was true. You both had always treated her as an equal, despite the odd, unending connection you would always share. Once upon a time, it had bothered her, that she would never have that same bond, but you did everything you could to never make her feel like an outsider.

When they’d been driven from town, you willingly killed for her and for Nicky. And for a brief moment, she considered apologizing for downplaying what you had done, for unintentionally spitting in your face, but righteous anger kept her tongue heavy as lead in her mouth.

Unwilling to suffer through your anguish any longer, you stalked out of the room.

“Hate me if you want. Believe whatever bullshit you tell yourself at night, but we fought against every power we could for him,” Rio said softly, watching Agatha’s features shift then harden. “She had to fight even harder than I did. Remember that. The universe and cosmos… they don’t forget. And they rarely forgive.”

-X-

Of fucking course it had to be that song. The bastardized, albeit sweet song-turned-protection-spell that was once Nicky’s creation. Luckily for you - and Rio - the curse haunting Alice didn’t seem to have any interest in the the ladies of Life and Death, so you flopped onto the couch to watch the impromptu jam session with unimpressed disdain. Truthfully, you hated what Agatha had done to the song, marring what innocence your son had left for the world.

I look so hot in this. So do you. Do you think the Road would be mad if you fucked me against that piano?

Shooting Rio a glance, you couldn’t stop the involuntary smile that befell you as she winked from behind the drums.

I think I might need these outfits. We can relive the 70s.

Pay attention to what you’re doing, you scolded. And maybe Agatha won’t die in this sham of a Road. And you hated the 70s.

Maybe that’s what I want, she replied flippantly, finding the beat effortlessly. I’ve been trying to collect her soul for centuries. She should’ve died quite a few times, if someone hadn’t interfered.

I…

I know.

Watching the performance, you couldn’t take your eyes off Agatha. She could hold the world’s attention if she demanded.

It brought you back to raising Nicky. How she would sing him lullabies as he fed, the songs far too mature though they seemed to soothe his moods. The nostalgia was overwhelming and for a moment, you thought you might get sick, before the tangy, metallic scent overtook your nose.

Blinking, you peered over at Teen, watching how he hunched and bowed in pain. You started to stand from your seat, but Rio’s shrewd look sent you crashing back down onto the cushions.

You can’t.

Watching the demon burst into flames, atop Alice’s shoulders, you were the first to meet Teen as his body went limp and he slammed into the floor.

“Oh shit! Teen!”

There was chaos and unfettered panic as everyone began worrying over the unconscious boy. Hands and words and thoughts came together in a crescendo of concern and nothing was truly getting done, other than Agatha snapping at her fellow witches as tears flooded her eyes. Swallowing your discomfort, knowing you probably shouldn’t intervene - that Rio would be less than thrilled by your choice - you stepped into the fray and lifted him with ease. Despite his age, he was a fairly light boy. Very unassuming. Meek.

Agatha shrieked, demanding you release him to one of the other witches, but you ignored her. You looked to Rio, whose eyes darted between you and Teen, before slipping down the stairs tucked within the piano and back onto the Road. His life was fading quickly, crimson dripping from his wound onto the ground beneath your feet and smearing across the fallen leaves.

Settling him on the nearest flat surface, you took two steps back as the coven gathered around him.

Rio took one step forward.

And all you could see was history repeating itself again.

[its-avalon-08]

so seb and y/n broke up after 2011, super messy break up, alot of tears, and they have never spoken after that. she switched jobs into mercedes. he has a panic attack and is gasping for breath and keeps asking for y/n. y/n comes running and seb breaks down sobbing. note the date is the same as the day they broke up. he confesses that he messed up and is so sorry. Thanks! love ur blog <333333333333333333

🍂🍂🍂🍂 one of my fav 🍂🍂🍂🍂

breathe baby breathe (sv5)

The air in the Red Bull garage hung heavy. The tension wasn't new - ever since 2010, ever since the spectacularly messy break-up that left a trail of shattered trophies and tear-stained pit walls, Seb and Y/N existed in an uneasy parallel universe within the F1 circus. He, a stoic German with haunted blue eyes, remained with Red Bull. She, a steely Brit with a heart encased in ice, had taken a high-profile switch to Mercedes.

Qualifying had been a disaster for Seb. A gearbox issue had left him stranded on track, his championship dreams spiraling down like a flaming meteor. Now, back in the garage, a cold sweat slicked his palms. His vision swam, the faces of mechanics blurring into an incomprehensible mess. His chest tightened, a cold vice squeezing the air from his lungs. He tried to take a breath, but it came out in a ragged gasp.

Panic clawed its way up his throat. This wasn't right. This wasn't just disappointment. His heart hammered a frantic tattoo against his ribs, each beat a deafening boom in his head. The air, thick with the smell of burnt rubber and ozone, offered no solace. He fumbled for his water bottle, the plastic slick with sweat in his trembling hand.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. He stumbled back, his vision going dark at the edges. A primal fear, a terror he hadn't felt since he was a child lost in the supermarket, seized him. A strangled cry escaped his lips – not a word, just a raw sound of terror.

Mark Webber, ever the teammate, noticed Seb's distress first. "Seb! You alright?" The concern in Mark's voice barely penetrated the fog of panic muddling Seb's thoughts. He needed Y/N. It was a nonsensical thought, a desperate plea from a drowning man clutching at a straw. But it was the only lifeline he could grasp.

"Y/N," he rasped, his voice a pathetic croak. Mark's eyebrows shot up in surprise. The name had never passed Seb's lips in all these years. But right now, reason had abandoned him.

Mark didn't hesitate. He knew the history, the bitter fallout, but in this moment, all he saw was a teammate in distress. "Y/N!" he bellowed, his voice cracking through the tense silence of the garage.

Y/N was huddled in the Mercedes garage, dissecting the telemetry data from Lewis's qualifying run. The news of Seb's car trouble had filtered through, a bittersweet pang twisting in her gut. She'd long buried the ghost of their relationship, or so she thought.

Mark's urgent yell shattered her focus. "Y/N!" It echoed through the corridor, laced with a raw panic that sent a jolt through her. Memories, both bitter and sweet, flooded her mind. Ignoring the bewildered stares of her colleagues, she surged towards Red Bull's garage, a primal fear urging her forward.

The sight that greeted her ripped the carefully constructed wall around her heart clean open. Seb, usually the epitome of stoicism, was a crumpled mess on the floor. His face, drained of color, was contorted in fear, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. His normally steely blue eyes were wide and frantic, searching for something, someone.

The past dissolved. This wasn't about their break-up, not anymore. This was about a human being in distress. Ignoring the initial shock, she dropped to her knees beside him, her professional training kicking in. "Seb, hey, focus on me," she said, her voice firm but gentle. He didn't respond, his gaze flitting around the room like a trapped animal.

Panic threatened to engulf her again, but she forced it down. Taking a deep breath, she mirrored it, holding his hand and speaking slowly, deliberately. "breathe baby breathe for me Seb. In with me, slow and steady." He flinched at the touch of her hand, a flicker of recognition crossing his face, then quickly masked by raw fear.

He tried, or rather, his body tried. His breaths came in shallow gasps, each one a struggle. Seeing his plight, she knelt closer, gently pushing a stray strand of hair off his damp forehead. It was a simple gesture, born of instinct, and it seemed to anchor him.

"That's it," she murmured, her voice a soothing balm. "Slow breaths. You're alright, Seb. You're with me." As the words left her lips, a strangled sob ripped through him, shaking his entire frame. Tears welled in his eyes, threatening to spill, but he squeezed his eyes shut, a desperate attempt to hold them back.

Y/N's heart ached. The sight of his vulnerability shattered the years of built-up resentment. Without a thought, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. His trembling body crumpled against hers, the final dam breaking. Sob after wracking sob escaped his lips, raw and unfiltered.

He didn't care if she saw. In that moment, all he needed was a human anchor, a safe harbor in the storm of his panic. And for the first time in years, Y/N felt the familiar pull of protectiveness surge through her. The past was still there, a shadow lurking at the edges, but right now, all that mattered was calming the storm raging within him.

The tremors in Seb's body gradually subsided, his sobs muffled against her shoulder. His grip on her arms tightened, a silent plea for comfort. Y/N held him close, stroking his hair with a gentleness that surprised even her. The scent of his familiar racing cologne, a mix of leather and adrenaline, flooded her senses, a potent reminder of a past she couldn't fully outrun.

"Y/N," he finally rasped, his voice hoarse. Shame laced each word, a stark contrast to the bravado he usually wore. "I miss you. So damn much." The words hung heavy in the air, a confession ripped bare by his vulnerability.

A lump formed in Y/N's throat. Part of her wanted to pull away, to retreat back into the icy fortress she'd built around her heart. But the raw pain in his voice, the vulnerability etched on his face, held her captive.

"You messed up, Seb," she said, her voice barely a whisper. It wasn't a question, but a simple statement, a truth they both acknowledged.

He flinched, a choked sob escaping his lips. "I know. I know, and I regret it every damn day. Even my parents yell about it. They keep saying I threw away the best thing that ever happened to me." His voice cracked, raw with self-loathing.

Y/N's breath hitched. She knew his parents adored her, a stark contrast to the strained relationship he had with his father at the time. The revelation stung, a reminder of what they'd lost.

A hesitant breath escaped her lips. "Seb," she started, unsure how to proceed.

He cut her off, a tremor running through his voice. "And the worst part? Even after all this time... I still love you, Y/N. Madly." He confessed the words in a rush, as if afraid to hold them back any longer.

Silence descended upon them, thick and heavy with unspoken emotions. Then, a soft, surprised sound escaped Y/N's lips.

"You still...?" She couldn't finish the question, the weight of his confession settling on her chest.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers, a desperate plea for a flicker of reciprocation. "Every damn day," he whispered. "Even now, on our monthaversaries, I still go get your favorite pad thai."

The admission, a small, vulnerable detail from a past they both cherished, cracked the ice around Y/N's heart.

A wry smile tugged at the corner of Y/N's lips, a flicker of disbelief coloring her voice. "Pad thai, huh? You never did learn to like that."

Seb chuckled, a wet, shaky sound. "No, I never did. But seeing you devour it with that look of pure joy... it was worth every forced bite." His gaze softened, lingering on her face for a beat too long.

The weight of his words, laced with a longing that mirrored her own, threatened to unravel the careful control she'd maintained. Taking a deep breath, she confessed, "You know, I used to stalk your social media, Seb. Every model the tabloids linked you with, I'd dissect their pictures online, a jealous wreck." Shame burned in her cheeks as she admitted the truth.

His eyes widened in surprise. "You... you did?"

"Don't judge," she countered, a hint of defiance lacing her voice. "We both have things we regret."

He shook his head, his expression softening. "Never. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, even if I was a colossal idiot back then."

Y/N couldn't help but let out a small laugh, the sound surprisingly warm. "Maybe a little," she conceded. "But even after switching teams, a part of me still wants you to win every race, Seb. It's a terrible conflict of interest, I know."

He squeezed her hand, a flicker of hope lighting up his eyes. "Really?"

"Don't get cocky," she teased, a playful glint returning to her eyes. "But seeing you on that podium, the pure joy on your face... it's hard to explain."

A comfortable silence settled between them, a stark contrast to the storm that had raged just moments before. Then, a mischievous thought struck Y/N.

"Speaking of confessions," she began, a sly smile playing on her lips. "Remember those chocolate chip cookies Mark always seems to have a stash of during race weekends?"

Seb's eyebrows shot up, a flicker of recognition dawning on his face. "Wait, you...?"

"Guilty as charged," she admitted with a sheepish grin. "I figured you still loved them, even after all these years."

Seb's lips curved into a genuine smile, the first one she'd seen in far too long. "You have no idea," he confessed, his voice thick with emotion. "They were... a ray of sunshine on some pretty dark days."

Their eyes met, a spark of something new igniting in the space between them. The past, with all its baggage, still loomed, but for the first time, they weren't facing it alone.

two days later

Two days had passed since their tearful encounter in the Red Bull garage. The air crackled with unspoken emotions, a constant undercurrent in the sterile environment of the Formula One paddock. Y/N sat hunched over her laptop in the Mercedes motorhome, the glow of the screen illuminating the dark circles under her eyes. Sleep had been a distant dream, replaced by the whirring of her mind replaying every stolen glance, every hesitant touch with Seb.

A soft knock startled her from her thoughts. Wiping the fatigue from her eyes, she called out, "Come in."

The door creaked open, revealing a sheepish Seb holding a familiar white paper bag. His hair was slightly disheveled, and there was a nervous twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"Hey," he mumbled, stepping inside hesitantly.

"Seb? What are you doing here?" Y/N asked, her voice laced with surprise.

He held up the bag, a small, hopeful smile playing on his lips. "Pad thai. Your favorite. I, uh, thought maybe you could use a break from all that data?"

A wave of warmth washed over Y/N. "You remembered," she whispered, her gaze dropping to the bag.

"How could I forget?" he replied, his voice softer than she'd heard in years. "It's become more than just a dish, Y/N. It's a reminder of everything we were, everything I messed up."

He took a tentative step closer, his eyes searching hers. The vulnerability in his gaze tugged at her heartstrings.

"Look," he continued, his voice thick with emotion, "I know this is crazy, showing up here unannounced after everything. But I can't stay silent anymore. These past few days have been torture. The thought of you... of losing you again..." He trailed off, his voice choked with emotion.

"Seb," Y/N started, her own voice trembling.

He held up a hand, silencing her. "No, let me finish. These past years have been a living hell without you. Every race win felt hollow, every victory parade a painful reminder of what I'd thrown away. My parents were right, you know. You were the best thing that ever happened to me."

He took another step closer, the air crackling with unspoken emotions between them. "Y/N," he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "I love you. I never stopped. And if there's even a sliver of a chance, I want you back. I want to rebuild what we had, stronger this time."

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes, blurring his image. She couldn't take his beautiful monologue any longer. With a strangled cry, she launched herself at him, her arms wrapping around his neck. The pad thai forgotten, they fell into a desperate embrace.

"Seb," she sobbed, burying her face in his chest. "I love you, I love you, I love you," the words tumbling out in a breathless rush.

He held her tighter, the sound of her choked sobs a balm to his tortured soul. "Never letting you go again," he murmured against her hair, his voice thick with a promise they both desperately wanted to keep.

In the heart of the bustling Formula One paddock, amidst the roar of engines and the relentless pursuit of victory, they found solace in each other's arms. The road ahead wouldn't be easy, but for the first time in years, they weren't facing it alone. They had each other, a second chance at a love that had weathered the storm and emerged stronger, more resilient than ever before.

[xx-slug-xx]

Billford isn’t just silly “toxic old man yaoi” like people have been saying. Their relationship being implied something more really means nothing. Cuz it’s literally horrible. Bill was manipulative, abusive towards Ford for years. And then did the exact same to Dipper years later.

Neither Ford nor Dipper or the rest of the Pines need Bill, if anything Bill needs them and that say a lot about how pathetic Bill is.

Yes and that’s why Ford and Bills relationship is so interesting to me!

Bill, a being that has spent eons painting himself out to be this absolute monster, and he absolutely is based on all his actions, finding solace in some human freak? Something that Bill, being treated as a freak in his home dimension, can relate to? Bill, the demon who most likely accidentally destroyed his entire dimension, who then had to make himself out to be the monster he felt that he was? His ego wouldn’t allow himself to be anything but that monster, and he lies about enjoying all the destruction he causes until his lies are no longer lies to him.

He’d never admit that he wanted more from Ford than the portal and nothing more. He’s supposed to be selfish, only caring about what new planet to consume. Relating to a mortal flesh bag? That would defeat the image he’s created for himself.

Ford saw Bill as perfection in his youth, and Bill valued him for being a dreamer. Bill was the only thing that could efficiently stroke Fords ego, and Ford enjoyed every second at the time. He’s the smartest man on earth, not able to relate to anyone but a dream demon he thought was trying to help him. Ford practically worshiped Bill like he was a god. Little did Ford know that the creature he thought was light was actually a great darkness. The unimaginable feeling of betrayal he felt when he learned the truth.

Bill played the game with him, not only to keep up the facade, but surely for something more as well. Ford seeing him for what he really was and making it his life’s goal to destroy him absolutely ruined Bill. Bill didn’t know what he had until it was already gone.

In the Book of Bill, he’s a horribly unreliable narrator. But Ford is way more reliable, and so is viewing everything from a completely uninvolved perspective. Combine what we see from the show, Journal Three, and The Book of Bill? And oh baby we got a recipe for a disaster of a relationship

They are so horrible for each other, but that sort of chemistry is so fun to explore when it comes to character analysis! It makes both Bill and Fords dynamic, their motivations, and other character related things so much deeper!

Bill needs purpose, and his purpose was ruined by his own undoing. He can blame any of the Pines family for this, but really, he’s his own worst enemy. The man needs serious help lol. Fords moved on, he has better things to worry about. Bill just can’t see past the potential for what could have been. Unable to forget the past, no matter how hard he lies to himself

I would definitely not say that Bill did the same thing to Dipper. Yes, he manipulated the kid and made his and his sister’s lives hell. But their history is not at all equal when Dipper didn’t dedicate his life to a false god like Ford did

Sorry for the ramble, anon! I’m in autism mode lmao

[lamemaster]

The Curse of Bloodlines (Epilogue 😔)

Request: For the annon who sends me this request every day. You know who you are and you have my respect fellow gremlin.

Pairing: Thranduil x Reader

AN: I never wanted to write this. But alas for those who cannot live without a happy ending go thrive. Please no more requests for this AU after this.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Epilogue |

"Atyo!" You peel Celegorm's hands off Thranduil's throat. At once your uncles are at the task of taking him to another room as you follow them. Not daring to look back at him. Too scared that you might not be able to leave if you do.

Perhaps it was the fear of finding the same disdained look you had witnessed in Arda. The fear of being subjected to it had left your eyes anywhere but, Thranduil.

So you focus all your attention on your father, who almost escapes the grasp of 4 of his brothers, including Uncle Maedhros, who towered over the majority in Valinor.

"Ata, not now," your voice cuts through the din, surprisingly firm despite the tremor in your heart. Your father's face contorted in a snarl, but something in your voice, perhaps the raw emotion, caused him to pause.

"Let me go!" he roared, his voice thick with fury. "I won't be mocked by that… that…" he trailed off, his tongue failing him to find an insult that wouldn't ignite another confrontation.

You shake your head and lead him out. "Let's leave. Grandfather is waiting."

You clenched your jaw, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. This meeting, the one you'd dreaded since your days in the Halls of Mandos, had been a disaster. And the worst part? It was just the beginning.

Meeting your father was something you had wished for forever. An unfulfilled yearning you grew up with. The same yearning Legolas grew up with. Absence of a bond that made the entirety of an existence.

Settling in his arms was a comfort unknown to you in life. Death had been kinder in many ways.

The agony of right and wrong seared on both you and your father. Ignorance of the bond that is most priced above any other. Blood that had cost you the love of your husband and the chance to watch your son grow.

But things that once shredded your heart into pieces now were distant worries. The sting of betrayal and the ache of lost years paled in comparison to the warmth of your father's embrace. His tearful apologies, whispered promises of redemption, were a balm to your wounded soul.

You met then, your uncles, your grandfather, your great-grandfather, An entire clan doomed in the halls of death. And so the task of stitching back together the House of Finwe began.

From uncountable days spent sharing stories by the pillar of your Grandfather, Feanor's firey pillar, to bringing along the souls of your troubled cousins Aegnor and Maeglin. Finweans started healing.

And you became the princess of Noldor. A title that came with a hefty price.

Legolas' friendship with Finrod wasn't a surprise. Both, you realized, carried the weight of a love lost to time – a grief you could never fully understand or soothe.

Legolas, however, found solace elsewhere. Celebrimbor, with his gentle spirit, became his closest confidante. He regaled Amrod and Amras with tales of Middle-earth, earning their playful grumbles about being called "grandfathers." Feanor, a name whispered in legends, became a complex figure he learned about through stories and perhaps, even fleeting glimpses of him to and from the forge.

Your interactions with Legolas were tentative at first. You were a stranger to him, a face from stories whispered in hushed tones. He longed to know the woman who carried him.

Awkward silences hung heavy in the air, punctuated by whispered stories of his life in Greenwood. He spoke of Thranduil with respect, but a flicker of sadness lingered in his eyes. He spoke of a man named Estel, a human who had become a dear friend, a story that filled you with bittersweet joy.

Then came the inevitable – a meeting with Master Gimli. Their shared tales of their unlikely friendship brought laughter to the once desolate House of Feanor.

Finally, after much coaxing, you managed to convince Legolas to attend Oropher's feast. You knew a march to invite the entire Noldorian royal family was a tad excessive, even by his standards.

Noldor marching was almost always was a perilous idea.

"Apply this twice a day," you mutter, handing him the small vial. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you allowed yourself to meet his gaze. "For the bruises," you clarified, pointing to the dark marks of your father's grip on his throat.

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, then settled into a mask of stoicism. His eyes, those same eyes that once held the warmth of a thousand sunrises, seemed distant, etched with the weight of untold ages. They held an emotion you couldn't quite define - a far cry from the hatred that burned in them during your last moments together.

His hand brushed against yours as he reached for the vial, sending a jolt through you. The grief that had settled between you, heavy and suffocating, felt like a tangible presence in the air.

"I apologize for my father," you began, your voice barely a whisper. "He is…"

"Troubled," he finished the sentence, his voice surprisingly gentle. "As are we all."

A heavy silence descended upon you once more. He spoke, breaking the quietude, his voice laced with a weary resignation. "I do not know what penance I shall bear to ever right the wrongs I have committed. I have searched for ages, scouring the world, but I cannot find a path back to the past I crave."

"I do not know what repentance I shall bear to ever right the wrongs I have committed," he continued, his voice barely above a murmur. "This yearning for what we once had consumes me, yet I detest it, for I do not believe I am worthy of it." His voice cracked, and for a moment, the once proud king you knew of was now stripped bare, revealing an elf consumed by regret.

The air around you seemed to crackle with unspoken apologies and unspoken yearning. You gathered your courage, forcing the words from your lips. "I do not know much of right or wrong," you began, your voice surprisingly steady. "Neither do I understand the intricacies of penance or forgiveness. Yet, from all I have learned in this strange realm, one thing resonates."

He averted his gaze, his back turned to you, his broad shoulders slumped in defeat. All the air seemed to have been sucked from the room, leaving a hollow ache in your chest.

Your mind raced, searching for the right words. "No act is set in stone. No grievance can hold its power over the relentless march of time. My kin, they wronged many, yet even they found a measure of peace." You thought of your uncles, of your father, finally released from the burdens of their choices.

"They were able to return to the light of Aman because they allowed themselves to seek forgiveness," you continued. "Beyond mine or Legolas', it is your own that you require the most." You reached out then, your fingers brushing against his cheek.

"We have all the time in the world." You leaned in, your lips brushing against his in a whisper of a kiss. A flawed marriage, a flawed separation, and a flawed reunion, yet, nothing had managed to make it any less sweeter.

[builtbybrokenbells]

CAPITAL VICES | WRATH

Wrath: a strong anger and/or hate towards another person.

Masterlist

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 21k (oops)

Warnings: PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS AS THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS VERY HEAVY THEMES—SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, hate sex, rough sex, fingering (f!receiving), masturbation (f!receiving), touch of voyeurism, choking, praise, degradation, dom/sub, sir kink, choking, touch of impact play, name calling, bratty sub, ANGST, very toxic themes, intentional jealousy, jealousy/possessiveness, very descriptive scenes of anger, gaslighting/manipulative behaviour/phrases, fighting, crying, mentions of physical violence, yelling, belittling oneself and others, self destructive behaviour, self-hatred, mentions of abusive relationships, mentions of cheating, mentions of grief/parent loss, mentions of breakups/breakups, depression, anxiety, mentions of addiction/drug use, mentions of blood/bleeding, swearing, drinking, so sorry if i miss any!

here it is, the long awaited chapter. wrath has been a chapter I’ve been looking forward to since the very beginning, so from the bottom of my heart, thank you for helping me get this far. as always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes (lightly edited) 😘

Heartbreak is such a cruel word, always insinuating that the very thing that breathes life into your body has been shattered and destroyed beyond repair. Heartbreak is violent, it is isolating, and it is gruesome. It is also something you never once believed you would let yourself feel again, and for years, you had done so well adhering to your own rules.

Love in itself is a funny thing; such a powerful emotion that is not only widely felt, but almost always ends in catastrophe. You were not one for love, and you had known that ever since you found yourself sitting in a bleak beige office across from a divorce lawyer at the young age of 22. Before that, when you cried ugly tears over a hospital bed while holding the sick, frail hand of your once mighty father, the notion began to rise in your mind. You could distinctly remember looking across the room, catching sight of your mothers grief-stricken eyes, and even then you could not begin to comprehend falling in love only to lose someone so tragically.

It always seemed like a curse to you, rather than a blessing; you watched too many relationships fail and leave disaster in its wake, too many people never recover from heartbreak greater than this lifetime, and too many people watch their greatest loves succumb to sickness before their very eyes. You could not position yourself in such a powerless situation, nor could you choke down the pain that came after it. The idea of giving yourself completely to another was not something you were keen on, nor ever wanted for yourself, especially after doing it once and receiving nothing but sorrow in return.

A lifetime of loneliness seemed better than decades of pain, because if you were going to suffer, you thought it best to do it on your own accord.

It’s not like you were isolated; perhaps your heart always craved a little more, but never enough for you to throw your morals in the garbage. Company came in all forms, as did fulfillment. You found solace in friends, family and colleagues. Your life was full of love, even if it was not in the way that is most expected of a person. You knew how to feel it, how to appreciate another in a selfless show of emotion, but never in romance. Casual sex was your forte, and it bridged the gap between your fear of committing and the human urge for connection. It was something you did well at, never lingering for too long and cutting things off before becoming too invested. As of recent, you seemed to stray away from that lifestyle, too, as you began to understand that one wrong move left you in a position that was uncomfortable and complicated. You adored your peace, and you loved your personal space, and if that meant keeping everyone else out, you were willing to sacrifice fulfillment on behalf of happiness.

Your friends and family thought you were insane for lacking the desire to settle down and start a family, that you would rather live alone instead of make space for another. They couldn’t understand you, nor could you understand them. You were two sides of the same coin, and it was always best to leave the discussion of love under the table. Your mother had another daughter to give her grandchildren, and even if she did not, you could not take that burden upon yourself just to make her happy. With time, she had grown much more understanding, and you knew that the more the years went on, the more she would be able to comprehend your feelings on the matter.

You were committed to your job, and your lifestyle. You loved drinking at the bar, and you loved to have fun in every aspect of the word. You liked to laugh, to do things that left impactful memories, and you didn’t want anything to get in the way of that. You did a good job of keeping life simple, and you were confident in your ability to maintain your integrity in the process.

Five years of that lifestyle had made you a professional of sorts. Then, Jacob fucking Kiszka walked into your life and ruined the whole damn thing.

With his pretty eyes and his devilishly beautiful face, he had charmed his way into your bed. With his witty humor and compelling aura, he’d managed to convince you to be his friend. With his sweet words and gentle smile, he’d easily become your favorite person in the whole world, and not long after that, you realized that you had fallen for him beyond any doubt. You were in love with him in the most sincere and honest way, and you loved him enough that you could not manage distance yourself from him, even if you so badly wanted to.

But, he was a man, and beyond the surface, they were all the same. It took one night for him to shatter the comfortability the two of you created, and it took one night to destroy the heart that he had a helping hand in repairing.

You wished you could say that at the sight of his lips locked with another woman and his tongue down her throat, you vowed to be the bigger person. You wanted to walk away, to forget he ever existed and move on with your life. You intended to stitch your wounds in silence, and flourish in seclusion. When you stepped back out into the real world, maybe he could catch a glimpse of you and realize all that he’d lost by being so immature. You wanted it so badly, and you did not crave to involve yourself in his childish behavior. When you left the bar the night he found himself wrapped around another girl, you promised yourself that you would never see him again, nor would try to hurt him the same way he hurt you. You wanted to move on, to take the loss and be better for it.

You had quickly come to learn that promising something and following through are two very different things.

The first night, you cried yourself to sleep. When you woke the next day, the pain was still abundant and relentless. You drank a bottle of wine while playing the saddest songs you knew on the piano, but not even that seemed to help. After that, you did all you could to ignore the hurt in your heart, hoping that if you did not submit to it, it would leave you alone. Food sickened you, and no matter where you situated yourself in your home to try and lessen the memory, it only seemed to hurt worse. His presence clung to every surface. It lived in the fabric of your couch, and the soft cotton of your bedsheets. It was sitting at your kitchen table, and even in the shower, too.

Even if you notice something in a room is missing, the memory of the loss ensures that it will remain indefinitely.

By the third day, you had become so angry that you could not even recognize yourself in the mirror. All of the hurt you were holding back was unbearable, bubbling to the surface with a vengeance. It was upset about being ignored and begging to be heard, disguising itself as anger to showcase its unhappiness with your unwillingness to acknowledge it. You were irritable, your patience thin and bordering non-existence. You cancelled your upcoming clients with a promise to reschedule, and you went to the gym excessively in hopes that the ache of your muscles would cover the sound of the ever-increasing pain in your heart.

You knew you were too far gone when one day, instead of walking away in frustration when your fork had fallen to the floor while trying to heat up old takeout remaining in your fridge, with little care, you had thrown the plate in its entirety to the ground, too. You watched as the porcelain shattered and the food scattered across the floor, no horror or regret in your body. Instead, you only felt emptiness at the sight of the mess you’d made. You took a step over it, ignoring it until you had the energy to clean it, and crawled into your bed in a mess of tears.

Thats when it finally started; all of the hurt turned your maturity into childish rage. You were angry with everything, and you were so full of sorrow that it made it difficult to breathe.

Wrath was just around the corner, and you were too far gone to stop it before it started.

An idea blossomed in your mind amidst the chaos, and at first, you denounced it as quickly as it appeared. It was immature, irrational, and would only open the door for even more trouble. But, as you raised a whiskey glass to your lips with a shaking hand in the darkness of your living room on a boring Wednesday night, you could not refute the temptation. You wanted to hurt Jake the same way he hurt you. You wanted to make him suffer just like you did, crying in his brothers arms while he occupied himself with the prettier, more convenient option.

It was a shot in the dark, and it would only work if he felt the same for you as you did for him. In the last few days, you had been seriously debating whether or not he did. He seemed to move on so easily, making you wonder if he was just playing a long game with you or if you’d hurt him bad enough that he knew no other way to cope with his own breaking heart. Then, you remembered his hands on her, and his lips on her, and it sickened you to the core. It made you feel like he really did want the cop out option, or that he wanted someone who was easier and much less broken. He wanted less baggage, less commitment, and with you, he could not have that. You had long passed simplicity, and outgrown casual. He didn’t want you, and you needed to choke down the fact if you ever had a chance at recovery.

But, with the slim chance that he did care for you the same and he was just being immature about his hurt, you knew you had to act if you were ever going to get the justice you so desperately craved. Revenge is a dangerous game, but you had already gambled your life when you offered your heart to him.

After losing so many times, the prospect of winning became all the more appealing. You would gamble your last breath to finally have the upper hand on him.

So on a warm Saturday evening, you found yourself holed up in your bathroom with a curling iron running through your hair. Your lips were painted red to match the skimpy dress that hugged your body, and your eyes were dark with eyeshadow and dramatic eyeliner. You had put on your best perfume, which just so happened to be the one Jake had claimed as his favourite. As you finished up your hair, you sprayed a thin layer of hairspray so it would stay in place. Just as you did so, a knock sounded on your front door. You went to greet your company with a fake smile on your lips and less than genuine enthusiasm. As you opened the door, a nervous flutter in your stomach reminded you that your idea could end catastrophically.

Behind the door was a familiar face, handsome and smiling as his eyes landed on you. But, his beauty was nowhere near Jake’s, and his smile was nice, but not even close to the breathtaking nature of his. A few days prior, you had scrolled through your Facebook friends in search of a suitable candidate to take on a date. When your eyes landed upon a name of a friend you had lost contact with after high school, you thought it would be a great opportunity to catch up while also using him for your ugly ulterior motives. You reached out, and he responded instantly, thus making your work so much less tiresome. Within a day he was flirting, and within two, you had plans for dinner at an expensive restaurant nearby Jake’s apartment complex. He had picked the spot, and the location just happened to relate with your plans.

“Hello, beautiful.”

“Hi,” you continued forcing the smile, hoping that by the time you settled down to eat, the false nature you held in your heart would settle into comfortability. “Come in for a second, I’m just finishing up.” You stepped aside, allowing him entry. His eyes scanned your walls, taking in the decoration, but he didn’t study it for too long before his stare landed back on your chest.

‘Classy.’ You held back an eye roll as you made a mental note of his lack of maturity. Then again, who were you to judge him when you were only going on the date to piss someone else off? He followed as you walked to your bedroom to grab your purse. ‘Perfect.’ You smiled to yourself, your eyes catching the large mirror displayed in front of your bed. You grabbed your purse and looked over at him, noticing that his eyes were still glued on your body.

“A picture before we go?” You asked, nodding towards the mirror. “Wouldn’t want to forget how good we look.”

“Of course.” He agreed, smiling as he took a step towards you.

You grabbed your phone from the bed, pulling up the camera as he positioned himself behind you. His hand landed just above your hip, his fingertips resting near your stomach as his palm cupped around your side. His seemingly expensive watch was displayed perfectly in the frame, making you wonder if he was also using you as a showpiece for his own personal gain. You turned your head towards him, looking upwards at his face. He was considerably taller than you were, so he had to look down to meet your gaze. You gave him a smile, which he returned with little hesitation. You rested your hand just below his and you raised your phone to your chest, centring it between you two and pointing it at the mirror. You snapped a few pictures, looking down at the screen to check if they were sufficient enough to post.

“We look good together,” he noted, his hand still lingering on you.

“We do.” You agreed, biting back a smirk.

‘Don’t get used to it.’ You thought, heaving a little sigh.

“Ready?” He asked. You gave him a nod, slipping on a pair of heels you’d placed by your bed. Without any further conversation, the two of you went to the front door and walked out. You locked it behind you while he started towards his car, opening the passenger door for you. You settled into the seat, noticing the overwhelming scent of cologne still lingering in the air. It was nice, but not nearly as delicious as the one Jake wore so often. You had to stop comparing the two; yes, you were intending to piss Jake off, but you did not want to be stuck in a constant state of wanting him anymore. As much as you were using the boy to make Jake angry, you were also hoping that when the night was through, you would no longer be stuck on him the same way you had been for the last week.

“I’m really glad you agreed to go out with me.” He said, backing out of your driveway and pulling you from your thoughts. “I’m really glad you reached out at all, actually:”

“I am too,” you smiled “it’s going to be really nice to catch up. I haven’t seen you since… well, high school.” You chuckled.

“Yeah,” he nodded, starting the short drive to the restaurant he’d made reservations at. “If I’m being completely honest, I always had a crush on you back then. Guess I was always too scared to say anything.” You tried your best to hold back a grimace at his words. After spending so many months with someone who was all but shy about his feelings, cowardice seemed to turn you off. If Jake were the one sitting in the drivers seat, he already would have told you how badly he wanted to take your clothes off (only after praising your beauty, of course). Now faced with someone who was nearly shaking at the thought of calling you pretty, you missed the blunt nature of his words more than anything.

“Well, I was a bit preoccupied, anyway.” You tried to ease the tension, regretting bringing up your ex the moment the words left your tongue.

“Yeah, that’s true. He was a dick, and I’m glad you got away from him.” He said, turning onto the highway without another word. Your stomach churned at the thought of him, and there was a rush of fear that flooded you. It had been so long since you had associated with someone who knew your ex husband, and you had forgotten how peaceful it was to be around people who did not know he existed. “You look stunning, by the way.” He wanted to change the subject, realizing that talking about your ex while on a date may not have been the best idea.

“Thank you.” You gave a soft smile, looking from him to the phone sitting in your lap. It was time for phase two of your devilish plan. “You look good too.” You said as you picked up your phone. You unlocked the screen, scrolling through the pictures you’d taken moments before and carefully choosing the one where you looked the best. You edited the lighting slightly on your camera app to make it look even better before opening Snapchat. You chose the picture from your camera roll, picking a heart sticker and shrinking it down so it just fit over his face. You hit the ‘post to story’ button, biting down on the inside of your lip as anxiety began to plague you.

Within seconds, the picture was uploaded. Before you even looked away from the screen, you could see that someone had viewed the image. You had your doubts that he’d seen it so quickly, but there was an incessant nagging in the back of your mind to check and see, just in case. You loaded the story, swiping up to see the view list, and sure enough, Jake’s contact was the only name on the page.

‘Let the game begin.’ You thought, unable to hold back the smirk as you locked your phone again.

“So what have you been up to, Scott?” You asked, turning your attention back to the boy behind the wheel. You could feel your phone vibrating against your leg, but you did not care enough to check it just yet.

“I went away for school for a while, then decided to come back home when I finished. My parents had a hard time with me living so far away, and I guess I did, too.”

“That’s sweet.” You smiled, trying not to notice the prickle of sadness that filled your heart when he spoke of his parents. “What are you doing for work?”

“I’m an accountant at my dad’s law firm, now.” You almost forgot he came from money, nodding along as he inadvertently told you all about his generational wealth. You had no idea how it slipped your mind as you were sat in this years newest Audi model, and the Rolex on his wrist was blinding you every time the street lights pooled in through the windows. “I don’t think I need to ask you, though. You’re one of the most popular photographers in the city, now.”

“Some would say that.” You chuckled. “Not sure if I would agree.”

“I would.” He cut you off, not willing to take argument on the fact. “Your work is really good.”

“Thank you.” You felt your cheeks redden at the sentiment. For a moment, you let the guilt get the best of you. You almost asked him to turn around and take you home, needing to confess to your sins and repent for the fact you were only using him for your own benefit. Then, the moment passed as soon as it came. You did not need to tell him and risk hurting his feelings more; you just had to sit through the night and make civil conversation, and maybe share a kiss or two. The thought wasn’t terrible, even if you’d rather be kissing someone else. When you parted ways at the end of the night, you would thank him for the fun. In the morning, you could tell him a half-truth and confess that it wouldn’t work, and you weren’t ready for a commitment like you previously thought.

That would solve it all, right?

You hadn’t thought it all through yet, and you could admit to that. But, you were good at thinking on your feet, and you were certain you would be able to get yourself out of the mess you were making.

“I remember in high school, you would always walk around with that big clunky camera from the yearbook committee. You took pictures of everything, all of the time.” He chuckled. You were only slightly embarrassed at the memory, but you chose not to respond. “I thought it was cute, and I think it’s really cool you’re still doing that. You have to do what makes you happy, right?” He glanced over at you, his dark hair offsetting the paleness of his skin.

He was incredibly attractive, and you could not deny that. His skin was soft, smooth and inviting. A small, slutty part of you wanted to reach out and touch him, but you refused to allow yourself the pleasure. His hair was soft, shaved down on the back of his head and faded perfectly into the longer hair on top. It was black, and looked perfectly silky, tempting you to run your fingers through it. His smile lit up his whole face, the upturn of the corners of his lips (which were soft and pink, the sight alone sending a flutter to your stomach) made dimples appear on his slightly blushed skin and crinkles form by his eyes. His arms underneath the suit jacket seemed strong, and the veiny hands that gripped the steering wheel aided the assumption.

The suit he had on was perfectly tailored to his body, probably with the funds lining his wallet from his fathers law firm. For a second, you forgot why you had asked him out, focused only on his blinding beauty.

Maybe he was exactly what you needed to forget about Jake, and you wondered if should use that to your advantage. His hands seemed like a perfect distraction, and his mouth seemed even better. A single night didn’t seem so bad, and the longer you thought about it, the harder it was to ignore the ache growing between your legs.

But, your anxiety got the best of you yet again. You feared you would end up in an even messier situation than the one you were in already; in love with someone and in bed with another who seemed overly enamoured with you. A love triangle was not what you needed, but it seemed like you had opened the door for it amidst your struggle to feel better. Then, your mind soured when you realized that Jake had likely fallen into bed with the girl from the bar. For all you knew, she might be with him right now, laying in his bed and giggling at his jokes. The thought sickened you, and you looked back at your company for the night.

Whatever happened was meant to happen, you deducted. You would not encourage anything, but who were you to stop it if the opportunity arose?

“You have to do what makes you happy.” You agreed, shooting him your first genuine smile of the night.

What would make you happy, you had no idea.

Surely not by having meaningless sex with a boy you’d seen for the first time in nearly a decade, especially after having such meaningful sex with Jake for so long. You were confused, and you were hurting. Your internal debate was chipping away at your psyche, but you looked too good and you were too committed to the bit to back out now.

When he pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant, relief flooded you as you realized you wouldn’t have to continue on the conversation of happiness and how to find it. Before the two of you made your way inside, you felt your phone vibrating intensely on your lap, signalling an incoming call. You rolled your eyes, glancing down at it just long enough to see Jake’s name on your screen.

You sent the call to voicemail, looking quickly over the text messages that had been filtering in non-stop since you had uploaded the incriminating picture.

😈

Who the fuck is that?

😈

?

That text was immediately followed by a phone call, and when that went unanswered, he tried again.

😈

Answer your fucking phone y/n

It seems as though your plan was working fantastically, and against his better judgement, he had broken the radio silence without a second thought. The next step was simple, but probably the most effective one yet; you clicked on the notification bars, bringing yourself into the chat so the read receipt would show under his last texts. Then, you turned your phone on do not disturb and slipped it in your purse.

Jake hated being ignored, and you knew if he had such a volatile reaction to the picture itself, this would surely send him straight to insanity.

‘Checkmate.’ You thought to yourself, biting back a cocky smirk.

You did not think your plan through nearly enough, and disaster was looming overhead, just out of sight.

“Ready to head in?” You asked, shaking off the nervous jitters in your hands.

“Yeah,” he nodded, opening his car door. Before you could even unbuckle your seatbelt, he had walked to your side of the vehicle and opened your door for you. He extended a hand to you, which you accepted with a smile. He helped you out of the car, and once you were steady on your feet, he slipped an arm around your waist. You tried to ignore the flutter in your belly as he secured his hand to your hip and pulled you closer to him.

The two of you advanced towards the entrance. You stood back while he checked in for the reservation, and within moments, you were being lead to a table on the quieter side of the building. When you sat down, the romance in the room was immediately overwhelming. There was tea light candles lit around the table, and a large centrepiece with flowers and fairy lights sat directly in the middle of the table clothed with a white cloth. Menues were sat in front of you, and the waiter assured you he would be back in a moment to take your drink orders.

“Have you ever been here before?” He asked, looking at you over the top of his menu.

“No, actually.” You shook your head, catching his gaze. Your heart leapt to your throat, finding yourself lost in the dark brown of his irises. Then, your eyes trailed downwards, noticing a flash of toned muscle from underneath his collared shirt. He noticed your reaction, smiling at your intrigue. He had a gold chain clasped around his neck, accentuating the columns of his neck that lead down into his collarbones.

He was stunning, and in another world, you thought you might even pursue him further.

“It’s my first time, too. I’ve heard good things, though.”

“Yeah, apparently it’s the best in town.” You gave a nervous laugh, focused on his hand resting comfortably on the table. You thought it would look much better decorating your thigh.

“What do you want from this, y/n?” He asked, genuine intrigue plaguing him. You tried to swallow your anxiety as you formulated an answer. “You can be honest.”

“When I reached out, I definitely wasn’t expecting anything like this.” You said, truthful in your response. You had hoped, but you definitely did not expect it to go to plan so quickly. “I’m a busy woman, and usually I don’t do this. I was hoping to catch up, but I don’t know how committed I can be to anything serious.”

“I respect that.” He nodded, placing his menu down on the table again. “If I’m being honest, I just went through a pretty rough breakup. I may have jumped a little too quickly.” Your sigh of relief was audible, and quite heavy in the room.

“Me too.” You admitted, the confession weighing on your shoulders. It was the first time you had referred to what you and Jake had as a breakup, but it felt right. What you had was much closer to a relationship than anything else, even if it was not what you wanted to call it. You did not need to divulge into the details of the real reason you agreed to go on a date with him. You felt it would be too harsh.

“So we’re here as friends, and we’ll see how the night goes?” He offered, not seeming too upset about the conclusion. You stared at him for a moment longer, a smirk breaking out on your lips.

“You can say you want sex, Scott. We’re adults, we can be honest.” His cheeks heated at your words, but a smile did form on his face. “I would be lying if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind.” He seemed to relax in his seat, now comfortable knowing that he need not worry about impressing you as much.

“Okay,” he chuckled. “A friendly dinner with the intent of sex. No promise of anything more after that.”

“I like that better.” You grinned, also feeling the anxious feeling subside at the agreement. The two of you had drawn a line that both of you were happy with. “So your last girlfriend…?” You asked, treading the topic carefully.

“Yeah,” he laughed, nodding as you asked. “We were together for a while. Three years or so. Couple months ago, I came home and she was gone. All of her shit was packed up and when I called to check on her, went straight to voicemail. Never heard from her again.”

“Oh, wow.” You breathed, your eyes widening slightly. “I’m sorry, honey. People are the worst.” He shrugged, looking to the side as the waiter approached the table again. He ordered a bottle of wine, waiting until he walked away to speak again.

“Shit happens. Sometimes you just have to take it as it comes.” He explained, not feeling any need to go any further into it. “And I’m assuming your boyfriend was no better?”

“No,” you laughed, looking down at your manicured hands. “But I don’t think you could really call him my boyfriend, anyway. More like a guy who only showed up to make my life more complicated. I thought we were exclusive until we got into a fight, which I’ll admit was my fault. We made up when we ran into each other at the bar, then his date for the night showed up.” You gave a tight-lipped smile, the memory causing a bitterness to rise in your chest.

“People are the worst.” He reiterated your point, sending you sympathetic eyes.

“They are indeed.” You agreed.

“So am I on a revenge date?” He asked, picking up on your nervous stare. “It’s okay if I am. Either way, I’m still the one who gets to spend the evening with you.” He flashed you a breathtaking smile, showing his enthusiasm either way.

“When you put it like that, it makes me sound terrible.” You said, your cheeks burning red and incriminating you even further. You were terrible, and you deserved to be treated as such. Asking him on a date to piss someone else off was a horrible thing to do, and you never should have done it in the first place.

“Not if I support it.” He shrugged, thanking the waiter as he dropped off the bottle of wine and two glasses. He poured two for you both, sliding one in your direction. “Like I said, beautiful. I get to have dinner with you either way.” You reached for the glass, taking a long sip. Your red lipstick decorated the rim, claiming the beverage as your own. “Just friends is okay with me if you’d rather do that. I’m just happy to see you after all these years.”

“I’m happy to see you, too. You were always great company back then.”

“I told a joke or two every now and again.” He laughed, remembering his goofy stature and desire to be the class clown. You wished so badly that you could just get over yourself, to move on and enjoy the time you were spending with an old friend. You wanted to be done with Jake and lean across the table to kiss the incredibly attractive man who was smiling over at you, but you felt frozen in place. As nice as it was to be with Scott, and as much as you wished to purge Jake from your life, you could not seem to do it. The thought of kissing someone else nearly made you sick, which also brought you to the horrendous reality that it was so easy for Jake. He was not caught up on you the way you were with him, and you needed to understand that in order to get better.

“Do you remember when you super glued all of Mr. Barksdale’s stuff to his desk?” You giggled, recalling the memory fondly as you searched for a subject to change the conversation up.

“How could I forget? He turned as red as the dress you’re wearing.” He let out another laugh, this one genuine straight from his belly. You could not help but join, finding the sound incredibly infectious. “He was so mad at me, I thought I was going to get expelled.”

“We all did. He hated you.” You grinned, wiping tears from your eyes that formed while amidst the laughing fit.

“Let’s be honest, most of the teachers did. I was a little shit.” He said, leaning back in his chair to calm himself down. Once he recovered, he took a long sip from his own wine. “One time, I took all of the free condoms from the guidance counsellers office and put one on every door handle in the building.”

“Oh god, that was you?!” You exclaimed, causing him to let out another belly-laugh. The happiness floating in the air was real, and you did not need to fake the joy written all over your face. It was the first time in days you had genuinely smiled, and weeks since you’d laughed like you were in that moment. It was freeing, and it helped you realize that there was life after Jake Kiszka, just the same as there was before.

“It was.” He nodded, wiping away his own tears.

“I had to wash my hands every time I opened a door for like a week!” You blamed him, but you knew it was due to the lack of janitors employed at the public schools. “And they never bothered to replace the free condoms, either.”

“You went looking for those a lot?” He teased, still trying to rid himself of the fit of giggles.

“It was way more convenient than buying them!” You plead your case, not really caring about the joke at your expense.

“Right,” he nodded, exhaling a long sigh after gaining his composure. “You see? I’m always down for a little mischief. Plus, if you’re using me to make someone jealous, I kind of take that as a compliment. Means you think I’m cute.”

“I always thought you were cute,” you rolled your eyes. “Funny and rich? How could I not?”

“So shallow,” he let out a disaproving tsk, but he did not seemed bothered by your comment. “I think that being friends would be nice right now. Who knows, maybe in the future, it’ll work out in our favour?” He offered. “If not, I’ll still be happy to have you as a friend again. If I remember correctly, you were a fierce little sidekick to have, and a pretty good wing-woman.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Your voice was shrill, surprised at such a statement.

“Oh, come on!” He rolled his eyes. “You were the first to tell someone off if they deserved it. Remember Alex Kiser, that little asshole on the football team?”

“Of course I do.” You scoffed.

“He seemed pretty intent on making my life hell for years, and then one day when we were in the library, you got up in his face and said everything that you had on your mind. He left crying, and I don’t think he ever bothered me again.” Your cheeks burned at the memory, not realizing that your gall had been so memorable that it stuck with him that long after it happened. “And junior prom! You helped me make the poster to ask Rachel Miller, only after you talked me up for months when you sat with her in History class.” You finished your wine as he spoke, trying to hide the blush on your cheeks. When you sat your glass down, he refilled it for you.

“Okay, okay.” You groaned, hiding your face in your hands to save yourself the extra embarrassment. You hated thinking about your antics in high school.

“What I mean is, you were a great friend back then, and I’d be lucky to have you as a friend, now.” He said, reaching over the table and placing a gentle hand on your arm. You peeked at him through the cracks of your fingers, the blush still lingering on your skin. After a few seconds, his hand trailed up to meet one of yours. He locked a finger around your own and gently pulled your hand away from your face.

“Thank you, Scott.” You mumbled, averting your gaze to the white tablecloth. His eyes were too pretty to keep watching, and you feared that with another few sips of wine, you would end up making an even worse decision for yourself. “Friends would be very nice. I haven’t had many as of late. I think when I left Seth, I cut off everyone. Wanted to start over, and I did.”

“We can do friends, y/n. I’d love to be friends, actually.” He promised, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “With a little jealousy on the side, of course.”

“Right, how could I forget.” You chuckled.

“Is it the type of revenge that makes him regret everything, or the kind that makes him angry enough to show up here tonight? Cause I can play both parts. I make for a phenomenal actor.”

“Oh yeah? You take up Drama Club in university?” You raised an eyebrow.

“No, but I did have to pretend to be interested in Macroeconomics for three whole months, and I promise you it was not easy.”

“You poor thing.” You smirked, your fake sympathy completely apparent.

“So what is it, sunshine? I’ll put on a good show.”

“Both, I think. I’m not sure what I want yet, or if it’ll even do anything.” You shrugged. “He seemed quite uninterested at the bar that night.”

“Have you checked your phone yet?”

“Not since we came in here.” You admitted, not shy of the fact you had been completely immersed in his company. You pulled it from your purse, turning on the screen to see if he had tried to message you again. Your eyes nearly popped out of your head at the amount of notifications piling on the screen.

“Seems like it’s working.” He smiled. “You think another picture will do him in?”

“I think it might give him a heart attack,” You muttered, letting your eyes wander over the few words you could read from the notifications. He was pissed, and in some strange way, it made you feel good. “Let’s do it.” You said, unlocking the screen and ignoring everything Jake had to say about your night out on the town. You opened your camera again, looking around the table while thinking of the best course of action.

“If you’re looking for a movie-style blowout, I suggest putting the menus in the picture.” He offered.

“You’re a genius.”

“Evil genius,” he corrected, positioning both menus under your hands that were already intertwined. Without moving too much, he moved the wine bottle so it was in clear view of the camera too. “My only stipulation is that we have to go for lunch soon, just so you can tell me how it went.”

“Are you playing wingman, now?” You questioned. He gave a sheepish smile and a shrug of his shoulders.

“I was kind of hoping that you might let me have the pictures too, so maybe I could do the same.” He explained. “Not to get her back, but I know me going on a date with an absolute smokeshow would definitely piss her off.”

“Of course.” You laughed at the universe, finding it perfectly comedic that the two of you would be going through such similar things. Hand in hand, you snapped a few pictures of the sight while ensuring the restaurant name was easily recognizable. You fixed up the image, adjusting the brightness and contrast before opening Instagram and uploading it to your story. Once it posted successfully, you shoved your phone back in your purse.

“Now we wait.” He said, almost excited for what was to come next. He’d loved attention, and he was always ready to be the star of the show.

“What if he hits you?” You said, finally realizing how poorly the night could go.

“I can take it,” he promised, no real fear over a fight. “So what’s he like, anyway? He must be something special to have you so enamoured with him.” A sad smile crossed your lips as you thought of a good answer, unsure of exactly how to word it.

“He is.” You muttered. “I gave up on dating and romance, and when I met him, I still felt that way. But after a while of spending every day together and doing things that I’ve never done with anyone else, it started to feel normal. It was more strange when he wasn’t around. I fell without even realizing it, and I was in way too deep before I could even admit it to myself. He turned my world upside down, and he made me feel things I never thought I would feel again, but he took it away too, and I don’t know how to move on from it. I don’t know what to do, or how to act, or anything.” You sighed, suddenly realizing all of the incriminating things you’d said. You looked up, plagued with guilt for talking about another man so intensely while on a date, but he was only smiling at your words.

“You can’t let that go, y/n.” He said, catching your eye to show his sincerity. “After everything you’ve been through, you deserve the love you always should have been given.”

“Stop,” you waved him off, overwhelmed with the profound statement.

“Does he make you happy?” He asked.

“Yeah,”

“Do you want to make it work?” You had to think about it, but eventually you gave a nod.

“I think I do, but I don’t know how.”

“If he feels the same, you’ll figure it out.” He promised, taking another sip of wine.

“Do you want me to pay for the wine? I feel terrible about how this turned out.” You laughed.

“Of course not,” he scoffed. “I’m having a fantastic time. You can buy lunch when you catch me up on all of the details.”

“Sounds like a deal.” You grinned, happy that he was so understanding. Before you had the chance to speak again, your attention was grabbed by a loud voice booming over the sound of soft classical music and low chatter. It sounded once, and you thought you might be able to ignore it. You couldn’t make out what it was saying, and it did not seem like the disturbance would continue. You took another sip from your wine, finishing off the second glass before you tried to continue the conversation.

As the bottom of the glass touched down on the table, your gaze shifted to the newest excitement in the room. Your stomach dropped and your eyes grew wide. You couldn’t find the words to communicate with Scott, so instead you gave his leg a gentle kick under the table to warn him of the fact that Jake had indeed cracked the code, and was pissed off enough to show up and get the answers he so desperately needed. Before your date could even catch on to what you were trying to tell him, Jake was close enough that his cologne was suffocating you and you could see his chest heaving with anger.

“Get up.” He ordered before he even stopped in front of the table.

“Jake, what the-“

“Get the fuck up, y/n. We’re going home.”

“You can’t just show up and tell me to leave.” You scoffed, still trying to digest the fact that he was in front of you. Part of you thought that the picture might push him too far, but a bigger one believed that he did not care enough about you to let it bother him that much. Now that he was in front of you, clearly dressed to impress you and outshine your date (or, his new-found enemy, rather), you could not seem to grasp the fact that after everything, he still wanted you. He sat up at night thinking about you, wondering if things would ever get better. He tossed and turned, hating that his bed still smelled like your shampoo, and he sat by his phone every minute of the day waiting for you to reach out. He wanted you just as much as you wanted him, but for some reason, it was too surreal for you to accept it.

“I’m not asking.” He made that point abundantly clear.

“Hey, man, I don’t mean-“

“I’m not fucking talking to you, am I?” Jake’s head turned sharply towards Scott, an abundance of anger pooling in his eyes. If Scott cared for his own safety, you hoped that he would heed the warning.

“Fuck off, Jake.” Although you had poked the bear, you were having a hard time finding any sympathetic feelings for his distress. You knew that he might show up, but it did not change your naturally strong personality. You lived to fight with him on every stance he took, and now seemed no different. His harsh approach and cocky tone were pissing you off more by the minute.

‘Who does he think he is? Showing up after days of no contact, demanding I go with him? What a-‘

“I’m not going to say it again,” Jake spoke, cutting your thoughts short. “Get up, go outside, and get in the car.” His dangerously low voice sent a shiver down your spine. “I promise that you do not want me to have to repeat myself.” He caught your eye, the look familiar and more chilling than it ever was before. It made your thighs squeeze together instinctively, the need for friction on your aching core more dire than anything else you were feeling in that moment. You had no fear that he would hurt you, but you knew that once the two of you were alone, punishment would be due. If you survived the horrific aftermath of the fire that was blazing in both of your hearts, of course.

“Maybe she’d cooperate if you weren’t talking to her like a fucking dog.” Scott cut in, finding Jake’s tone too strong for his liking. He was not battling for your affection, but he did not care for the way he was speaking to you. He stood, ready to get between the two of you, but Jake turned on his heels so fast that it made your head spin. Scott was easily a head taller than Jake, but despite the physical difference, Jake was holding all of the power.

“You don’t get to talk to me about her, ever.” He took a step closer, fuming at the thought of your name on his lips. His finger was pointed at him, pushing into his chest further with each word he spoke. For a moment you feared that he might strangle him, realizing the look in his eye was far more dangerous than you’d ever seen before. You stepped towards Jake, placing a delicate hand on his shaking arm. At your touch, he immediately relaxed and lowered his hand.

“Let’s go.” You said, pushing Jake towards the door. After a moment of a staring contest between the two, Jake allowed you to nudge him in the right direction. As you walked behind him, ensuring he wouldn’t turn around, you turned your head back to look at Scott, sending him an apologetic stare. He raised an eyebrow, silently asking if you were okay. You gave a nod alongside a subtle wink, which he returned after he was certain you were okay.

When you managed to get Jake to the front door, the strength in which you were holding his arm increased in an angry fashion. In the parking lot, you felt the need for damage control flee you, and your own pent up rage began to surface. “What the fuck was that about?” You let go of his arm with a little more force than intended, pushing him forward slightly as your hand disconnected from him.

“Who the fuck was that, y/n?” He said, turning around to face you with the same fire burning in his eyes. “And why the hell are you on a date with him?”

“I think you lost all rights to ask me that.” You warned, scowling at his forward questions. “Who I spend time with is none of your business anymore, and neither is my dating life.”

“None of my business?” He hissed, stepping towards you as he spoke. A cloud of wrath was forming around the two of you, locking you in and locking the rest of the world out. There was no escaping it even if you wanted to. “You are my business. If you’re safe, if you’re happy, all of it, whether you like it or not!”

“Oh, yeah, because you’re so concerned whether I’m fucking happy or not!” You exploded, throwing your hands out and landing your palms flat on his chest. In a sudden burst of emotion, you pushed him backwards, causing him to stumble. “It sure meant a whole lot to you when you were practically fucking that ditzy blonde in a booth in my bar!” He was stunned at your words and the strength in which you delivered them. “You don’t get to show up here and ruin my night and then pretend you fucking care, because you don’t and you never have!” You pointed a finger at him, uncaring of the grand show of emotion in the middle of the parking lot. “You apologize and tell me how much I mean to you, you have sex with me in the bathroom because you can’t wait until we get home, and then you make out with someone else in front of me all night!” Your voice cracked with tears, all of the hurt you’d been feeling pouring out at once. “Did you just say all that so you could fuck me? Or so you could leave it on good terms while you left for someone better?”

“Y/n-“ he warned, stepping forward again.

“Shut the fuck up and let me talk!” You begged, tears pooling in your eyes. “Was that all I was to you after all? Sex and somewhere to sleep for the night? Were you just keeping me around so you didn’t have to be alone while you looked for something else? Someone with less baggage, someone who’s easier to deal with than I am?” He reached up, grabbing your wrist tightly in his hand while his eyes warned you to back down.

“Get in the car.” He said, his voice as quiet as a whisper, but as impactful as a punch.

“I don’t want to go home with you, Jake! I just want to know the fucking truth, and then I never have to see you again!” His grip only tightened as you spoke.

“Get in the car, and I will answer your ridiculous fucking questions.” He tried again, keeping his cool because he knew that you were hurting much more than he was. The wine was clouding your mind, making your chest ache more than it ever had, and allowing you to make a fool of yourself in the public parking lot. “We will talk about this once I get you home safe. I’m not letting you get in a cab like this, and I need to know that you’re going to be okay.”

“Stop pretending that you care!” You tried to shake out of his grip, but he was much stronger than you. The longer he continued the act, the worse your heart hurt. You were confused, tipsy, and more than anything, heartbroken. You could not allow yourself to believe that he cared this much, and every time you let yourself second guess your doubt, the picture of him kissing the blonde at the bar plagued your mind.

“I’m not pretending!” He finally reached his limit, yelling back at you with just as much force. “I would never lie to you about that. If you know me at all, you’d know how much you fucking mean to me!” His voice cracked too, but he did better than you at covering it up. “Now get in the car, and then you can yell at me, and you can hit me, and you can scream all you want.” He was not willing to negotiate; his eyes were heavy with anger and his expression was stony. With a huff, you pushed past him, but you did as he asked and you climbed into the passenger seat of his car.

You slammed the door behind you, tossing your purse on the floor as you crossed your arms over your chest quite like a child amidst a temper tantrum. He got in the drivers side, closing his door with the same force as he shoved the keys in the ignition. Within seconds, he was pulling out of the parking spot and began driving down the streets to bring you home. You kept your mouth shut despite wanting to fill the stale air with cruel words and harsh insults. As he drove, you tapped your foot against the ground to pass the seconds until you were home.

You had not thought your plan all the way through; you wanted to hurt him, to piss him off and make him feel all the same ways you did at the bar that night. When talking with Scott, the prospect of making Jake angry enough to show up at the restaurant was intriguing, and definitely thrilling. Once the adrenaline wore off and you were left alone with the rotten feeling that had been steadily growing in your heart, you realized you did not want to see Jake at all. Having him in front of you reminded you of all of the feelings you were trying to bury, and seeing his face only made you fall in love with him even further. You were so angry with him that it made your head spin, but you cared about him so deeply that you were sickened at the thought.

Love itself is a funny thing after all, for not even the devil himself could understand it.

Jake's knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, unable to hide the intensity of his emotions. When you allowed yourself to peek at him from the passenger side, you could not help but feel enamored with his face, even if wrath was wrapping itself around every feature that he had.

It almost drove you crazy, the seriousness etched into his stature. The downturn of his lips, leaving just the ghost of his earlier scowl would be off putting to some others, but you found beauty even in the midst of his pain. The furrow of his eyebrows was minimal, but you were drawn into the tiny wrinkles it left on his tanned skin. His eyes were black with anger, and he was almost unrecognizable.

To anyone untouched by the devil, the man before you would strike fear. To you, submerged and nearly buried underneath the sin, his wrath was like a drug. You could feel it seeping under your skin, igniting every nerve with flames and striking the match for your own. The devil within you fed off of his wicked heart, and his own evil did the same with yours. Between you was empty space, stale air that did not even hold a whisper of relief from the deafening silence. From nothing grew an unholy feeling. There was no room in the vehicle for anything lesser; the euphemisms and illusions you had previously drawn about his lack of morality no longer fit the narrative. Satan himself sat beside you, horns growing rapidly and his skin blistering red. You could not fear him, because when you turned to look out the window, you noticed your reflection and saw the pitchfork in your own hand as your eyes turned black as night.

The sin had finally caught up, and not even a priest could excise the demons from the two of you. Salvation was no longer an option, and the only thing left to do was face the devil within yourselves. The seventh, and the deadliest capital vice was begging to be heard. It was bleeding you both dry, the wrath so abundant that it was replacing all of the blood coursing through your veins with its own ferocious fury. Wrath was sewn into your skin, tying knots around your lips and blinding you with rage. It was wrapped around your neck, choking you and laughing as you begged for air. The two of you had done so much damage that you had turned yourselves into the personification of evil itself.

Walking away was the safest option, but after a lifetime of running, staying was the only thing the two of you wanted to do.

How pitiful to learn the lesson only after it manifested itself to be lethal.

“You’ve got nothing to say, now? Only want to fight with me if we can cause a scene?” He asked, flipping on the turn signal with nearly enough force to break it clean from the car.

“As if you need any help getting attention.” You rolled your eyes, muttering it to yourself. “As if I’m the one who fucking caused the scene in the first place.” You said the second part louder, stronger so he could hear the disdain in your voice.

“Like you weren’t trying to start something by posting those pictures.” He growled, the memory striking him particularly unpleasantly. The thought of another man’s hands on you was enough to drive him to violence. “Sorry, I forgot that I always have to be the bad guy.” He added, his grip tightening even further on the wheel as he turned off the highway.

“Would you fucking quit with the pity party?” You exploded, finally turning towards him. “Do you really think that you’re innocent? From what I understand, exclusivity doesn’t mean very much to you. If it did, you wouldn’t have been finger-fucking your side piece at the bar while I had to sit and watch!” The obscenity of your words didn’t even phase you, your anger so flaming that you were willing to say anything to get under his skin. “Or is it only okay when you do it, Jacob? You can fuck whoever you want, but I have to sit there and stay loyal to someone who doesn’t fuck about me! I’ve done that once before, but you’re not nearly special enough for me to want to do it again!”

“You didn’t stay and let me explain myself! I was only with her because I didn’t know how else to get your attention! You make me fall in love with you, and then you push me away. Then you tell me you care about me, and you walk away!” He brought his hand back, slamming it back down on the wheel with an intensity that made your head spin. “If you weren’t so fucking stubborn, maybe we would have went home together instead!”

At the sound of the guilty confession, your world came crashing down around you.

Your worst fear had been spoken into existence, and you weren’t sure if you could survive the grief plaguing you.

“Yeah, it’s all my fault Jake.” You nodded, attempting to blink away the tears that were falling faster than you could comprehend. “It’s my fault that you broke the only promise I ever asked you to keep, and it’s my fault that I didn’t tell you I loved you after I explicitly told you that I don’t do that, and it’s my fucking fault that instead of being an adult about it and talking about your feelings, you buried your dick in another girl!” You slammed your fist against his dashboard, your emotions piling up so high that a physical release was the only way to calm them down. “It’s all my fault, and I’m just the fucking worst! God forbid you take some accountability for your own stupidity!” Your hand slammed down again with every point you made, the ache spreading up the entirety of your arm. For a moment he feared you might set off the airbag with the strength you were using to hit the dash.

As you retracted your hand from the scene of the crime, he pulled into your driveway. You rubbed your knuckles, soothing the ache in your bones until the car rolled to a stop. As soon as it did, you were unbuckling your seatbelt and opening the door. You grabbed your purse as you stepped outside, slamming the door before he could try to stop you. But, he was fast, and he was not willing to let you lock him out. He shut the car off and was hot on your trail before you even made it to the front steps. You fumbled with your keys as you tried to unlock your door, and when you finally saw the inside of your house, relief flooded you. You stepped inside, moving quickly to try and keep him out, but his hand collided with the door as you tried to shut it in his face.

“Take a fucking hint, asshole.” You spat, pushing against him.

“I’m not done talking!” He argued, barely straining as he rivaled your strength.

“I am!” You cried, begging him to understand. “I’m done talking, I’m done fighting, I’m done, Jake! I can’t fucking do this anymore!”

“I’m not letting you go, y/n.” He said, calmer than he was moments before. “I’m not letting you walk away again. I won’t walk away again.”

“Stop it!” You exploded, dropping your arm from the door in a moment of pure weakness. You were too distracted by the moment to remember your vow to keep him locked out. His words were too much, and it made all of the strength flee you and the pain grow larger. More than anything, it made your already poor judgment cloud even more. “Stop doing that, Jake! Stop hurting me and then telling me you care. Stop trying to be what we both know you aren’t!”

“What, y/n?” He scowled, his jaw clenched so tightly you feared he might pop a blood vessel. “Say it! Say the word! Stop being so fucking afraid of it!”

“You’re not my fucking boyfriend!” You yelled, reaching your breaking point. With that, he pushed the door open and stepped towards you. He reached out, landing one hand on your hip while the other one cupped your cheek. He kicked the door shut with a force as he leaned forward, capturing you in a kiss. The change in pace made you weak in the knees, but his advance was not unwelcome. The anger that was so evident in his features had been causing a mess between your legs since you first laid eyes in him.

The kiss was messy, both of you still fighting for control. He continued walking, keeping a firm grip on your hip so you didn’t lose your balance. You stepped in time with him, letting him lead you wherever he pleased. When your ass landed roughly against the lip of your kitchen counter, your stomach began to twist into knots. He pulled back, his chest heaving with the remnants of anger and now, desire.

“You’re right, angel. I’m not your fucking boyfriend.” He said, his expression completely foreign. It was like a stranger was standing before you, but it was not making you fearful; you were aching to know this version of him, and you wanted to know him as intimately as the situation would allow. He seemed like a man gone mad, all humanity gone from his eye and sex being the only thing that held any value to him.

For once, sex was finally the only thing the two of you were concerned about. No love, no respect, and not even any kind of affection. It was purely primal, and comfort was the last thing he had in mind.

But even more so than that, sex was the only way the two of you knew how to communicate, and he was using it to his advantage.

“I’m not even your friend.” He said, his eyes dark with lust. “I’m just sex to you, yeah?” His fingers were burning into your hip, leaving trails of blistering fire on your skin as they wandered to your thigh, settling just under the hem of your dress. “That’s all I’m good for, right sweetheart?” He moved his hips towards you slightly, but with force, causing your ass to press further into the marble countertop. You let out a gasp of pain, the sting radiating deep into the muscle as the solid surface settled in at a bruising angle.

“Y-yes.” You thought you could keep up the act, but his eyes intently focused on your own were sending you into a downward spiral of love for him. He was the whole world, and you were just living in it. You couldn’t lie enough to cover the fact, even if every word you spoke for the rest of your life was laced with dishonesty.

“I’m just something to help you get off,” he continued, his hand slipping under the fabric of your dress. “To fantasize about when your fingers are playing with that tight little cunt?”

“Yep,” you said, more confidently than the last time.

“Good to know,” he growled, pulling at the fabric of your dress until he heard the seams pop. You were so enthralled in his performance that you could not even find the will to care. “Now I can fuck you like a whore, and I don’t have to feel bad about it.” With that, he gave another hard tug and the stitching on one side of your dress came loose completely. It slumped from your body, falling around his hand in a pathetic heap. He let go of it, letting it fall to the floor without ever breaking eye contact. “If sex is all you want, I’ll fuck you just like you deserve.”

You wanted to fight with him; the anger was still bubbling under your skin and begging to be let out, but now that you were naked in front of him and his eyes showed unwavering dominance, you fell back into the roll with ease. He watched your face, not searching for discomfort, but obedience. This was not a debate, and you did not even pretend to hold any of the power. He slid his belt from the loops on his dress pants, folding it over on itself and gripping it tightly in his hand. Slowly, he placed the leather against your bare thigh, looking down as he slowly pulled it across your skin. The light tickle sent a shiver down your spine and you found yourself staring at his face, wondering what was running through his mind.

Had you pushed him too far?

Was he really stopping the whole conversation just to fuck you?

You were confused, and still incredibly hurt, but the arousal pooling between your legs was undeniable. There was so much that needed to be discussed, but the longer the minutes dragged on, the less you cared about working it out.

He reached out with both hands, his grip holding on your hips. In one swift motion, he lifted you and placed you on the cold countertop. You jumped at the sudden chill that ran through you, but he did not comment, nor did he even seem to notice. With little warning, he snaked his hand between your legs and roughly pulled one to the side. His eyes were still focused on your cunt, his gaze never faltering. He didn’t want to look at your face; he didn’t want to see the contempt you held for him in your eyes, nor did he want to see the pain he caused any longer. He couldn’t look you in the eyes and face you like a man; he was angry, and hurt, but most of all, he could not forgive himself for how much he’d hurt you.

“You want to act like a whore, I’ll treat you like one, angel. Taking guys out on dates just to piss me off, posting pictures and ignoring me when I call…” he brought his hand to your heat, running his fingers through the wetness and spreading it to your clit. “If you wanted me to come over and fuck you, all you had to do was ask.” He said, his tone eerily calm. His middle finger tracing agonizingly slow circles around the sensitive nub, making your want to buck your hips forward into his hand for more. You needed him the same as the starving need food, but you were unwilling to sacrifice your dignity while showing him. “Or did you want to take him home? Have him between your legs like this, trying to make you feel as good as I can?”

You were faced with two options; tell the truth and fuel his ego, or lie and make him even angrier with you.

You were foolish to think that the devil would ever allow for the truth in your godless relationship.

“I did.” You replied, causing him to look up and finally meet your eye. The animalistic look was enough to drive you crazy, but you stayed put, pretending that the emotion in his eye did not phase you at all. “And I know he would’ve done it better than you can.” At that, his fingers stopped all movement. His grip tightened around the leather belt in his hand, tempted to use it, but knowing that it would not change your attitude. Instead, he gave you a smirk, fake but effective.

“You think he can fuck you like I can?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. You held back a frown when he moved his hand away from you, completely cutting off contact. “You think he can make you feel better than I can?”

“Yeah, I do.” Your false confidence was astonishing, and even you believed it yourself for a moment.

“Okay, angel.” He nodded, taking a step back from you. He reached down and grabbed your purse that fell to the floor, opening it and grabbing your phone from inside. He dropped the bag to the ground again and tossed the phone on the counter beside you. Your stomach twisted with anxiety, wondering what he was doing. “If you think he can do a better job, call him. I’ll go home, and he can finish what I started, but I’ll be waiting for you to text me, asking me to come back because he couldn’t fucking do it right.”

You were appalled at the thought, but not because of his cockiness. That was normal now, and not often did it phase you. You were sickened at the thought of having someone else do what you so badly wanted Jake to do. Hours ago, you had convinced yourself that hooking up with another guy would help ease your pain, but now that Jake was in front of you again, you could not stomach the idea of another man touching you the same way.

He watched your face, taking in your shocked expression. He was bluffing; he would not let anyone else touch you like this in a million years, and he definitely would not hand out the invitation himself. His hope was that you realized that he was what you wanted, and not the guy you went to dinner with. He knew you well enough to know that you would never do such a thing, which is why he was confident enough to offer the idea. When you didn’t respond, he let out a low chuckle.

“That’s what I thought.”

Damn him and his ability to see right through you.

“Now shut your fucking mouth and behave yourself.” He said, taking a step back even further. “Since I can’t do it right, you can get yourself off.”

“Jake-“ you protested, unhappy with his decision.

“I don’t want to hear another word. YouI’ll do as you’re told.” He cut you off, giving you a stern warning. His nostrils flared slightly with anger, and the muscles in his jaw were tense. You bit back a snarky comment, clearly upset by his ridiculous request, but you let your hand sink between your legs anyway. He moved back towards the counter opposite of you, leaning against it and crossing his arms over his chest while he watched you run your own fingers through your folds. He still had his belt clenched tightly in his hand, making sure it didn’t stray too far. You knew he was itching for a chance to use it, and you couldn’t deny your own desire to feel it across your skin. You could see the erection growing in his pants, tenting the zipper and straining the fabric. You wanted him more than you ever wanted anything in your life, and sitting there touching yourself while he was so accessible was equal to torture.

Then again, that was his intent; he did not want to please you like he was often eager to do. He was angry with you, and when you anger the devil, punishment is not only expected, but ensured.

“Like this, sir?” You taunted, slowly trailing your middle finger to your clit, tracing slow circles around it. You wanted praise, but he wasn’t generous enough to give it to you. Even more than that, you wanted to push him enough to make him do the job himself, rather than sit and watch. He did not respond, but his eyes were intently focused on your hand as you touched yourself. Beneath the rage still lingering in his gaze, there was a sense of longing for you. He was torturing you, but he was doing the same to himself by having to hold back.

Since the night at the bar, he hadn’t been able to get the thought of you out of his head. Worse yet, he couldn’t forget the feeling of being inside of you, your cunt clenching around him as you dissolved into a mess below him, desperate for an orgasm. Being near you was like getting a fix of a drug he’d been withdrawing from for weeks, and he wasn’t sure if he could handle watching you get yourself off. There was a small fear inside him that he might come undone at the sight of you in pleasure alone.

You anchored your arm on the counter behind you, holding your weight on the single limb as you leaned backwards, allowing him a better view of the show you were putting on. You added more pressure to your finger, feeling your breath hitch in your throat as a wave of relief washed over you. You kept your eyes on his face, only allowing yourself to look at his cock strained in his pants every so often, knowing that it would only make your neediness worse. His gaze was still locked on your hand, and his chest was deeply rising and falling with every breath he took to calm himself. He was irresistible, and you did not know if you could keep going without as much as his hand on you in support.

“Oh, fuck.” You gasped, feeling a pressure begin to build in your belly. It was nothing like how he could make you feel, but it was something, and that’s all that mattered. Progress, even if it was slight, meant that you were a little closer to him taking over for you.

“That’s it, sweetheart.” He unraveled his arms from across his chest, reaching down and adjusting himself in his pants to relieve some of the pressure. “Listening isn’t so hard, is it?”

“Fuck off,” you rolled your eyes, still working your way up to an orgasm.

“Watch it,” he warned, unhappy with your sharp tone. “You’re lucky I’m even letting you get yourself off.”

“Oh you’re so generous.” You scoffed, your hand still working at yourself. The angry banter seemed to be helping your search for a climax. “Jake the hero! He’s just so fantastic and everyone should bow down and kiss his feet! I’m so happy to do all the hard work for you, thank you so much.” You grumbled, trying to keep your words as nice as you could despite wanting to tear a strip off of him. You were still angry, even underneath all of the sexual tension, and you were a bomb waiting to explode. You feared that if he pushed you just a little too far, the night would come to an end without any sexual gratification at all.

“You’re going to start with me again?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as he stepped towards you.

“Can’t take it?” You asked, a bit breathless from the pleasure pulsing through you. Your cheeks were tinged red from the feeling, and from the anger still simmering from earlier. Your skin was sticky with sweat and you were growing more desperate by the second. The sight of your struggle made him smile, knowing how badly you wanted him to reach out and touch you.

Once he was within an arm's reach, he settled himself between your legs again as your fingers remained in a steady pace on your clit. Before you could speak again, he drew his arm back and brought the belt down on your thigh. You let out a hiss of pain, instinctively trying to shy away from him, but his hand shot to your hip to hold you in place. Once you calmed down from the initial shock, you relaxed into his hold, surprised that he hit you as hard as he did.

“One chance, Angel.”

“W-what?” You asked, distracted from the rapidly changing environment.

“Tell me what the fuck your problem is.” He said, looking down his nose at you. In that moment, you could see his humanity return to him again. He cared so much, but he was sick of scaring you away by loving you. This was his only way to get you to tell him what was wrong without you running away. He’d been waiting for the opportunity to come all night, and he wasn’t letting it pass him by. “Get it all out now, ‘cause once you cum, I get my turn.” You were dumbfounded, unsure of how to respond to his request.

“You want me to berate you while I get myself off?” You questioned. “That’s a little fucked up, even for you, no?” Your tone was airy even after you tried to maintain your composure. The pressure in your belly was unbearable, but you slowed your movements to allow yourself some time.

“I want you to get rid of that fucking attitude.” He corrected, grabbing your cheeks between his forefinger and his thumb. “Look at me and tell me what’s wrong. I want to hear all of it, and don’t you dare stop touching yourself.”

“All of it?” You clarified, hoping he was being serious and you weren’t trapping yourself. He gave one curt nod, showing you he meant what he said. You withdrew a long breath, gathering your thoughts before you began. “You’re a selfish, ignorant prick, Jake. You promised me that you wouldn’t fall in love and fuck this up, and then you did it anyway.” You huffed, finding your temper hard to keep up while looking into his eyes. “And when I told you I wasn’t ready, you played the victim and told me I was only good for sex. Why do you think I was scared of dating you, hmm?” You pressed, waiting for him to answer before you continued. When you were met with nothing but a harsh stare, you continued on, anyway. “Because I was fucking terrified of you lying, or believing you when you say all of that stuff just for you to change your fucking mind, and you proved me right!”

“Mhm,” he hummed, allowing you to continue.

“A-and… oh, fuck.” You groaned, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment as an intense wave of pleasure ran through you. “And I went to that bar that night to forget about you, but you showed up, and I cared about you enough to be the bigger person and apologize. I felt like I was taking a step in the right direction, and I was finally able to move past all of that fucking trauma and fear. I felt good, I was happy, and when we left that bathroom I was ready to take the next step.” You confessed, the words weighing heavily on the both of you. Your mind was hazy, and you weren’t sure if you would have said it all if you were in a proper state of mind. “Then I got to meet your date for the night, and it got me thinking that all men really are just the same. I wondered if it was me, if I was too much, or if there was too much baggage, or if I was too complicated for you to handle. I cried to your brother about you while you sat in that booth and made my worst fucking nightmare come true.”

“Keep going.” He encouraged, placing his belt on the counter and moving your hand out of way. It broke your focus, the sudden loss of contact devestating for you. Then, he moved his hand in place of your own, slowly pumping two fingers into you and letting his thumb drift over your clit. A moan broke from your chest, filling the air with desperation amidst the despair.

“S-so I left, and I promised I was done, but I can never just be done with you, can I?” You hissed, squeezing your eyes shut as the feeling in your belly grew stronger. “I decided to get back at you, so I took Scott on a date to try and forget about you. I taunted you with those pictures to make you feel the same way I did, but I worried it wouldn’t work because you don’t care about me the same way I care about you.” He let out a quiet noise, almost sounding astonished that you could believe such a thing, even while he was trying to make you feel good while you berated him. “Then you showed up, and for a second I believed I had it all wrong. You cared enough to be there, to come and find me and try to win me over, but then I was just mad. I’m not your property Jake, and I’m not your problem.” You had to stop, feeling yourself teetering on the edge as you spoke. You waited for a moment, focusing on not cumming so you could say all you needed to feel better.

“You don’t get to pick and choose when you love me, and you don’t get to decide when I’m ready for something. You don’t get to choose when I’m someone you love, or when I’m just good for sex. You don’t get to make me fall for you and then take another girl home with you!” You could feel tears rising in your eyes despite the pull of pleasure from his hand. You were surprised that you could speak so much emotion so clearly while he was working so intently at your cunt, but the emotional turmoil was much more pressing than the sexual tension. “You don’t get to tell me I mean something to you and throw it in the garbage. You don’t get to mean this much to me and also have the power to take it away.” He heard the quiver in your voice, and it nearly shattered his psyche.

“It’s okay, Angel.” He muttered. “You’re okay.” He promised, moving his fingers at a more precise angle. “Cum for me, beautiful.”

“Don’t do that, Jake.” You stopped him, hating how badly you loved hearing the sweet words. It was too much. He was too much. It was all too much for you, and you feared that you were crossing a line you would never be able to come back from.

“Get used to it.” He snapped, leaning forward so his forehead was resting on yours. He couldn’t handle your denial any longer; both of you felt the same way, even if you refused to admit to it. Love was surrounding you completely, and you knew it long before he took your clothes off. The only reason it hurt so bad was because you loved him so much, and if you did not care it would never have mattered. “I’m not going anywhere.” He said, a little softer but still harsh enough to offset the sweetness.

“F-fuck,” you gasped, stuttering over your own profanity. It was exactly what you wanted to hear from someone your entire life, that they were there for good and they wouldn’t leave your side, but somehow when it came from his lips in the way you’d always longed to hear, you could not allow yourself to believe it. The orgasm was right there, and you could no longer hold it back. You were slipping over the edge, and he wasn’t helping. His hold on your face softened, but his fingers were still burning into your skin, leaving a mark for the rest of eternity.

“That’s it,” he crooned, rocking his hips forward into nothing. He was so desperate for relief himself, but he wouldn’t allow it until he was sure you were satisfied. Your hand reached out for his arm, your fingers locking around your bicep as your other arm snaked around his neck, pulling him closer and holding him tightly, ensuring he could not slip away. “Doing so good for me, baby.”

Your muscles tensed and your legs shook with the intensity of the euphoria. No pain existed within your mind anymore; it was filled with thoughts of Jake, and the sweetness of his face and the warmth of his eyes. For once, the thoughts invading your mind had little to do with the sexual desire between you both, and everything to do with the yearning of your heart. The pleasure came from him being close, and the prospect of spending the rest of your life doing the same thing with him and only him.

You were too far gone, and there was no way you could surface from the experience the same as you were before you descended into it.

Love had blossomed, infiltrating every second of your day and every fibre of your being. It was so plentiful that it altered your DNA and changed your entire outlook on life. You were nothing but in love, and the moment was so beautiful that it almost sickened you.

When you came down, your mind was foggy and your eyes were begging to stay closed. You were exhausted, but he was only just getting started. As soon as you relaxed against him, you felt him remove his hand from your cheeks. He unbuttoned his pants, pulling them down along with his boxers just enough to free himself. He grabbed your hips with both hands, pulling you to the edge of the counter with a strength that made your head spin. He hiked your legs around his waist and let the tip of his cock rest on your entrance before going any further.

“I didn’t plan to fuck anything up, y/n.” He said, making sure you were listening. The softness he held seconds before was gone, now. It was his turn to air out his feelings, and he wasn’t going to miss the chance. “Falling for you was the last thing I wanted to do, because I knew it would leave us here. You don’t get to sit here and call me names, because you’re not a fucking saint, either.” With that, he slammed his hips forward, catching you completely off guard. You let out a yelp, his cock hitting your cervix and sending an addictive type of pain through your entire body. “You’re the most stubborn, self-assured, snarky woman I have ever met in my entire life.” He listed, clearly showcasing that your time to talk was over. “I hate it, but it’s so fucking addicting that I can’t stay away.” He growled, pulling your hips forward as he thrusted into you, making the impact all the more intense. “You don’t get to be angry with me for caring about you, because you’ve been doing all of the same things.”

“I get to be mad about whatever I want!” You argued, but he pulled you down on him again, cutting your thoughts off completely. The sound of skin on skin was too much to bear, and suddenly, you felt like he was wearing too much clothing. You reached your hand between the two of you, grabbing a handful of his shirt where the last few buttons were joined together. You gave a hard tug, and the buttons popped free from the threads holding them together. It didn’t even phase him for a second, and all he did was pull back for long enough to shake it from his arms.

“It’s my turn to talk.” He said, bringing his hand to your throat, his fingers locking around your neck like a gruesome decoration. He did not apply any pressure, but kept his grip there as a looming threat. “You broke my fucking heart, too.” At his words, your chest ached with a fervor you had never felt before. Hurting Jake was the last thing you wanted to do, and hearing him say it out loud broke you beyond recognition. “Do you really think that I took her home that night?” He asked, his hips still moving at a brutal pace. “That I even wanted to entertain that any further? That I even wanted to kiss her that night? You really think I would ever touch anyone else like this?”

“I… I don’t know.” You whined, your stomach twisting into knots at the pleasure he was granting you.

“You are the only thing that has ever mattered,” he huffed, looking down at your face, admiring the way your expression was telling him how good he was making you feel. “The only reason I invited her was to get your fucking attention, and I forgot she was even coming after I went to the bathroom with you.” You couldn’t respond, too immersed in the euphoria of being so close to him again. You did not realize how much you missed the feeling of him on your skin until he was touching you. “Then you walked away, like you always do, and I thought that was it. I thought I’d never see you again.” He was struggling to get the words out, but he continued on anyway.

“Then you post those pictures, posing like a fucking whore with some other guy to get under my skin?” He spat, his anger clear in his tone. You had hurt him perhaps even beyond how much he hurt you, and you could finally see it. You weren’t so blinded by your own pain that you could ignore his. You were both so blinded by pain that you had convinced yourselves that you hated each other. “You thought you were going to bring him back here and let him see you like this? That I would let you get away with it, let someone else put their hands on you?” He was growing more intense the longer he spoke, but it was so intoxicating that you did not realize how dangerous it was. “This is all for me, sweetheart. Don’t you ever think otherwise.” The possessive claim made you weak, and could not even voice how blissful the thought of being his forever was. His fingers tightened around your neck, finally beginning to cut off the blood flow to your head. “Did you think that he could even come close to me?”

“No, sir.” You rasped, his hand stopping most of the words, but you still managed to speak them so he knew the truth.

“He could never make you feel this good.” He spat. “Nobody could, Angel. You can lie and say that you don’t love me, but you can’t fucking lie to me about that.” His fingers constricted around your neck again, making your vision go blurry and your head feel light. Your entire body felt like it was floating, but you had no fear.

Just the same as it was the beginning, you knew that death at his hands would be the most pleasant experience of your entire existence.

Without warning, you descended into pleasure once more. You tried to withdraw a breath, but you could not get any air in. Your legs were locked around him, trembling with the intensity of the climax. You tried to reach an arm out to tap him, but you were so strung out in euphoria that you couldn’t summon the strength to do it. When you thought you might slip away into unconsciousness, his fingers loosened around your neck, never willing to push you too far. Even as angry as he was, your safety was the most important thing to him. Instead of the harsh grip he previously held, his fingers massaged against the sensitive skin as you filled your lungs with air. You coughed for a moment, sputtering on the oxygen that you’d been deprived of, and eventually your body relaxed from the stimulation. His hips were still moving, but you were nearly too fucked out to care.

Without any warning, he pulled out of you and slid you from the counter and onto your feet. You were completely at his disposal, but you had no fear that he would mistreat you. You trusted Jake completely, even if you didn’t want to. He spun you around, bending your top half over the counter and grabbing a fistful of your hair. Within seconds, his cock was back inside you and his hips were continuing their earlier page, this time with much more freedom.

“Tell me, sweetheart. I want to hear you say it.” He ordered. You felt a slight stutter in his movements, realizing that he wasn’t far behind you. He was holding on by a thread, and he was desperate to hear your praise, even if he would never admit it.

“Only you can make me feel this good, Jake.” You groaned, so exhausted that the words barely made it past your lips. “Nobody else could ever come close to you.”

“That’s it, baby.” He sighed, reaching around to the front of you and moving his hand between your legs. His fingers settled on your clit, now adding more stimulation to your already tired body. You tensed against him in response, your walls clenching around him and pulling him even further. “God, you’re so fucking tight. Take my cock so well.” Your knees went weak at the sound of his filthy words. “Give me one more, sweet girl. I know you can do it.”

“I can’t.” You shook your head against his hold on your hair. “I can’t do it.” You pleaded with him to see reason, but Jake had never been one to take no for an answer. You knew you could come again, but you feared that your body would not be able to handle it. Even as you doubted it, the pleasure was steadily rising again, begging you to let go and give in to the temptation.

“You can, and you will.” He barked, still feeling some residual anger coursing through him. The movements of his fingers sped, and if possible, became even more precise. Your whole body felt like it was on fire and he did not let up for a second to give you a break. He was pushing you to the brink of insanity, and he didn’t have a single regret about it.

“Fuck, Jake.” You cried, squeezing your eyes shut as an even more intense pleasure took over. You had surpassed any level of care, and you were practically screaming as obscenities fell from your lips, mixed delicately with his name. He coaxed you through the orgasm, muttering praise as he held you steady on your feet.

“That’s my girl.” He groaned, the sinful noises driving him even closer to the edge. Before you came down from the high, you could feel his hips stutter, his previous pace failing him as he descended into his own euphoria. His cock twitched inside of you, and he let out a slur of curses as he spilled his release into you. If it was even possible, the feeling of him filling you sent you into a whole other world of bliss. You tried to catch your breath as your body shook with the last few seconds of your orgasm, but your chest burned and your heartbeat pounded in your ears.

You had never felt like this in your entire life, and although it was fantastic, it was incredibly dangerous. You had finally sold your soul to the devil, and your repentance had only just begun. You feared that a lifetime of suffering would not be enough punishment for the nefarious acts the two of you committed.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” He breathed, slowly releasing his hold on your hair. You let your cheek gently fall against the countertop, the cool surface calming your burning skin almost immediately.

“Yeah,” you replied, keeping your eyes closed in hopes of regaining some energy again. He pulled out of you, but neither of you rushed to the bathroom to clean up. You could worry about the mess later; there were things more pressing than that, and dealing with the aftermath of your wrath was at the top of the list. When you felt strong enough to open your eyes, you pushed yourself up off the counter, feeling his hands softly running over the marks he’d left on your skin, destined to turn purple as a reminder of your sinful indulgences. You turned to look at him, leaning against the counter to keep yourself upright. He took a long look over your face, seeing the exhaustion written deep in your features. Underneath that, the pain was still lingering.

The two of you hoped that when you faced each other again, the burden of your mistakes would disappear and a new found peace would emerge from the rubble. Now, when you looked at him, it seemed like the pain was permanent and if anything, the suffering only grew stronger. He reached out, cupping your cheek in his hand, but not even the gentleness of his touch could satiate the raging hurt in your heart.

The damage was too plentiful, and you were certain that your relationship would never recover from the evil the two of you had turned to. The sin had caught up to you, and it was breaking you down further the longer you stood before him.

Again, the question remained unanswered; how much sin could you engage in until salvation is no longer an option?

“I’m sorry.” He muttered, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your forehead. You wished that the feeling would take away all of the bad like it so often did before, but it only made your heart break even further. The longer his lips lingered on your skin, the more it made you want to cry. It wasn’t right, and it never would be. The two of you were disastrous together, and although the connection was undeniable, it was also lethal.

“I am, too.” You said, the quiver in your voice louder than any of the words you spoke. He pulled back, looking down at your face.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart.” He pleaded, unsure if he could handle the sight of you in tears again. “Let’s go get cleaned up, then we can talk.”

“Okay.” You nodded, knowing that the longer you waited to tell him the truth, the worse it would hurt for you both. Still, you let him guide you to the bathroom where the two of you tried (and failed) to wash away the sinful memories of the night.

You stood in front of the mirror, looking at the smudged mess of your makeup and the trails of mascara littlering your cheeks from the crying you had done. You did not recognize the person staring back at you, nor did you want to get to know her. She was empty, chilling when you looked into her eyes for too long. She was not the person you had worked so hard to become, and as you looked over your shoulder at Jake, you knew why.

His love was euphoric, but it was not good for you. It had changed your entire world, but it was not in any way positive. You were a stranger to yourself, and you saw the devil in your eyes, laughing at your own foolish ignorance. The things you had done for his love did not give you what you so badly wanted. Instead, it turned you cruel and vile, your motives twisted and hurting everyone in the crossfire. You wanted him so badly, but you knew you could not have him and maintain your peace at the same time. The two of you cared about each other so much that it was dangerous, and you could not risk everything you had worked so hard to attain.

Even as you came to your senses, you could not help but gaze at his face with a type of longing only felt in fiction. Your heart ached to be his, and your body craved to be in his arms. He was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen, but sometimes the most precious things can hurt you the most. Worse than that, the most beautiful things turn out to be rotten at the core. What you felt for him was so much stronger than anything you’d ever experienced, and in some ways, it was fantastic. What wasn’t fantastic was the things you were willing to do to keep him all to yourself. It was cruel and wicked, and you did not want the evil to take over your entire soul.

Even as you fought the idea, a small part of you knew that you were too far gone to be saved.

His arms reached out for you, landing on your arms as his fingers trailed over the smooth skin. He stepped towards you, placing a kiss on the top of your head as he reached for the pack of makeup wipes on beside the sink. He grabbed two from the package, and turned you to face him. Wordlessly, he wiped away the makeup staining your skin, but he could not work fast enough to rid you of the tears that did not want to stop falling.

You were already grieving him, and he wasn’t even out of sight yet.

You had always been fantastic at ruining a good thing before it ever happened.

“Is that better?” He asked, dabbing away the last bit of mascara on your cheeks. The coolness of the cloth soothed your skin, but it did not make you feel better at all. You weren’t sure that anything would.

“Yeah.” You lied, giving a weak nod against him. He discarded the used wipes in the trash, grabbing your hand and leading you out of the bathroom. He nudged you towards your bedroom, and you followed his guidance without complaint. Once you were in the safety of your room, he grabbed two of his shirts from the drawer of your dresser you had given him for his clothes.

The thought alone pained you, knowing that soon enough, it would go back to an empty compartment that served as a reminder of your own failures. You were not ready for Jake to become a stranger again after knowing him so well.

He tossed a shirt in your direction, which you caught and threw over your head. You would worry about returning his clothes to him another day, knowing that the pain was plentiful enough tonight. He changed into his own, comfier clothes and took a seat on the edge of your bed. He held his hand out to you, beckoning you to come and join him.

“I’m sorry I said all of that stuff.” You said, trying your best to sit away from him on the mattress, but gravity seemed to be pulling you towards him. “You’re not my boyfriend, but you are worth way more than sex. And you’re not selfish, either. If anything, I think that I am.” He was not your boyfriend, but you both desperately wished he was.

“It’s okay, angel.” He assured you, reaching for your hand and intertwining your fingers with his. “I’m sorry, too. You are worth the whole world, and you’ve always meant more to me than sex. I never should have said that, either.” He confessed, wishing that he never said such harsh things about you.

“I’m also sorry that I hurt you. I never wanted to. I thought I was protecting myself, but all I was doing was making things worse. Scott didn’t mean anything, either. He was an old friend from high school, and I only took him on a date to piss you off.” You muttered, looking down at your hand in his.

“She didn’t mean anything, either. I did the same, and I shouldn’t have taken it that far. I was hurt and stupid, and I didn’t know how else to deal with it. I felt like you didn’t want me, so I just wanted to feel like someone did.” His transparency was haunting, especially considering you were going to hurt him all over again. You were prolonging the inevitable, and you were terrible for doing such a thing to him.

“These last few months have been… everything to me.” You confessed, feeling more tears stain your cheeks. “More than I ever thought I would have again. I’ve been so mad at you for breaking your promise, but I think I broke it first. It’s not fair, and I wish that I could deal with my feelings better.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He turned towards you so he could see you better. “We can figure it out together.” He promised, but the look in your eye made him regret the sentiment immediately. He knew what was coming just as well as you did, but he so desperately hoped that he was wrong.

“No, we can’t, Jake.” You whispered, holding back a sob begging to break free. “All we know how to do is hurt each other.”

“That’s not true, angel. Come on.” He pleaded, hoping that you would at least be willing to hear him out.

“Look at us,” you replied, begging him to see reason “we’ve been avoiding falling in love so much that we’ve gotten comfortable with hurting each other instead. I thought that after we talked it out, or after sex we might feel closer and all of that pain would start to go away, but it’s not. It’s still here, and it’s telling me that you and I need more than what we can give each other. The games and the avoidance and the fear… It’s not getting us anywhere.” You bit down on your lip, stopping it from quivering from the strength of your emotion.

“We can make it work. If we try, we can do anything, y/n. I would do anything for you.” He said, pained at the thought of leaving you again.

“When I said I don’t fall in love, I said it for a reason. It’s not because of you, and if I’m being honest, you are the easiest person in the world to fall in love with. It’s because I’m not good at it Jake, and I’m not good for you. I’m going to hurt you more than I can ever give you anything good. I’ve got too much history, too many problems… you don’t deserve that. You deserve the world, and I can’t give that to you. I can’t be selfish anymore. I can’t do that to you.” He reached up, wiping your tears away while he tried to process your words.

“Y/n, you are the world. I don’t want to try with anyone else, because a million bad days with you are worth way more than one good one with someone else.” The sweetness was killing you, and you had to stop him before he took it any further. You were always weak to his power, and this time, you were even more susceptible to it.

“I want that too, Jake, but I can’t.” You stressed the same point. He sat for a moment, drowning in the sorrow but unwilling to push you any further.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” He asked, voice so quiet it barely broke through the air.

“No,” you shook your head. “I don’t want it, but it’s for the best.” You closed your eyes, wishing you could feel differently about it. You wanted him so badly, and you wanted to make space in your home for him to be there, too, but you couldn’t. You were too afraid, and your fear had always paralyzed you. It was your biggest weakness, only second to Jake, now.

“Okay.” He said, holding back his own tears. It was killing him, but even if he did not agree, your comfort came first.

“I don’t want to lose you.” You said, making sure he knew that you still wanted him around. A selfish being could not fully rid themselves of the burden, and selfishness was all you knew when it came to him. “We’re just getting good at being friends, and I would really like to keep it that way.” You were lying; friends was equal to torture when all you wanted was to love him.

“I can do friends, angel.” He promised, but it was empty. He did not know if he could do it, but he was willing to try. Having you as a friend was better than not having you at all. “Can we just… Can we wait? I’m willing to try, but not yet. I just want to be with you right now.”

“Okay,” you breathed, nodding in agreement. You didn’t want him to leave yet, either, and you were willing to take as much as you could get, even if you were loving him on borrowed time.

The two of you fell back into the mattress, and he wasted little time pulling you into his arms. What normally would be a joyous moment now seemed bleak, drenched in despair. He didn’t want to leave, and you did not want him to have to repair damage that someone else had done. You were too hurt to be loved, and he loved you too much to see your hurt. The sin was plentiful, and this time, it had destroyed the two of you down to the core. You had done so much damage and repair was not an option, and you hated the fact that the universe did not want to allow the two of you to be together. In another life, the two of you would love each other more intensely than the world had ever seen.

Wrath had shattered the last bit of humanity the two of you held within your hearts. It was in his jealousy, and your revenge. It lived in your hurtful words and harsh truths, but most of all, it was plentiful in your own self-reflection. You had never hated yourself more than you did in that moment. You were angry with yourself for being so broken, and angry that you could not put your fear aside and let yourself love him. Most of all, you were angry that you were letting him walk away when all you wanted was to be held by him for the rest of your life. At the same time, he was furious with himself for ever hurting you at all and making you think that he would not do all he could to show you what you meant to him. He was angry for allowing you to let him leave, and angry that he was not strong enough to force you to let him stay.

Fury was the most abundant emotion in the room, followed closely by sadness. Above your heads, the seven deadly sins conjoined to force the two of you away from each other indefinitely. You had sinned too much to ever reap any rewards, and your wicked warpaths led you straight to your own demise.

Lust had driven you too him, and gluttonous you had become. Greed was not far behind it, but sloth ensured that you would never see the truth your hearts were trying to speak. Pride had stopped you from seeing him as he was, and pride had forced his hand in cruelty. Envy left you broken, and wrath had lead you to revenge. Now, you were cradled in the devils arms and awaiting your fate; god could no longer look at you and lead you down the right path, and your own salvation was out of your hands.

You prayed that the devil might see mercy and go easy on you as you tried to rebuild yourself from the evil mess you had become.

The hours passed and you stayed tangled in his limbs, with his hands in your hair and soft kisses placed on your skin. You felt better than you ever had, and you knew that nobody else in the world would ever love you the same as Jake would. You fought exhaustion, forcing your eyes to stay open so you did not miss a single second of his company. You laughed at each others jokes and shared sweet sentiments, recounting the months of happiness you had brought to each others lives. It was a dream come true, but dreams must always come to an end. When the sun began to peek through the darkness, you knew your time together had come to pass.

When he stood, your bed felt emptier than it ever had. There was a divot in the mattress from where he laid moments before, reminding you of all you were losing as he walked out the door. You stood with him, holding on to every last second that you could.

“So this is it?” He asked, wondering if you would change your mind.

“I guess so.” You replied, feeling your voice begin to shake with sadness again. If it was the right thing to do, why did it hurt so bad to do it?

“Friends?” He asked, clenching his jaw in hopes of holding back his own emotions.

“Wait,” you shook your head, stepping forward and wrapping your arms around him. He wasted no time doing the same, holding you with all of the love he could muster in his heart. Your head settled in the crook of his neck and his chin rested on the top of your head. The two of you sat for a moment, immersed in the comfort of each other's company. Before you let go, you leaned up and placed a kiss on his lips. It was sweet, drawn out, and telling of everything you did not have the strength to say. When you pulled away, you could see tears shining in his eyes from the early light of the sun. “Okay.” You breathed, in trance as his eyes burned into yours. “Friends.” His lips upturned into a smile, but it appeared more like a grimace.

“You were right from the beginning, angel. I never should have doubted you.” He said, his voice weak as he blinked away tears. If he had listened, he would have spared you both the pain.

“I’m so glad you did.” You said, making sure he knew you didn’t regret it. If he had listened, you never would have had the chance to know him at all. He placed a small kiss on your forehead, and with one last look over your face, took a step back.

“I’ll see you soon?” He asked, hopeful that you really did want to remain friends. He could not imagine how sorrowful life would be if he never saw you again.

“You know where to find me.” You left the invitation open, hoping that he would come back. You couldn’t understand the feelings flooding your chest. They were so powerful and abundant that it made it difficult to breathe.

“I do.” He nodded, stepping out of your bedroom to retrieve his shirt from the kitchen. “I’ll uh... I’ll buy you a new dress.” He chuckled, looking to the torn fabric on the floor.

“Don’t worry about it. It was worth it.” You gave him a weak smile.

“Alright.” He nodded, grabbing his shirt. “Goodbye, beautiful.” You wanted to say something back, but you were frozen. Dread filled you, leaving no room for anything else.

Why did you want him to stay?

Why did you want him to try and change your mind?

Why, if this was the best for both of you, did it feel like the world was ending?

The idea of him walking through the door was killing you, but you did not have enough courage to tell him to come back to bed despite wanting it more than anything else. You needed him to stay, to love you until you forgot about all the hurt that was plaguing you. You needed him, but you could not allow yourself to have it. Instead, you took in a shaky breath and nodded your head.

“Goodbye, baby.” You struggled to speak, your throat feeling like it was closing around the word and forcing it back down. You watched in horror as he walked to the door, opening it as he slipped his shoes on. He blew you a kiss, lingering for a moment too long. When you didn’t speak again, he stepped outside and the door gently fell shut behind him.

The grief hit you with such a force that you feared you would fall to your knees in anguish. You wanted to run after him, to tell him that you were wrong and the only thing you wanted to be good at was loving him, but you were frozen. You heard his car back out of your driveway, and you knew that it was over; you had to suffer the consequences of your own sinful desires and learn how to move forward despite them. It was the right thing to do, and you had to persevere through the pain to understand that you had done the best thing for the two of you.

But still, upon telling yourself that over and over again, you still did not believe it. Now that your house screamed with emptiness upon his departure, you felt like you had made the worst mistake of your life.

Perhaps the devil was not punishing you for your sinful endeavours, but rather the sin was standing in the way of seeing the truth once again.

With your head in your hands and your heart lying broken in the pit of your stomach, the heaviest realization thus far washed over you. You were wrong about him, and you were wrong about leaving him. Jake was not the enemy, nor was he the thing making your life harder; you were your own worst enemy, and all you had done since falling in love was stand in the way of your own happiness. You wondered if the Lord would ever forgive you and bring him back, or if you would have to suffer the punishment and spend every lifetime searching for him in everyone you met.

Hope was and had always been a feeble idea, and you had little desire to believe that life would work itself out again after making so many deals with the devil. Instead of running after him, you turned to your bedroom to hide away under the covers and begin your repentance that would take a lifetime to complete.

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 @jordie-gvf @cassy-face @highway-tuna @creadliz98 @dancingcarbon @do-it-jakey-baby @lallisonl

[sssarrrra]

𝐅𝐲𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞, 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠

Fyodor can still feel things, no matter how much he tries to hide it. We know where he channels his negative emotions (to sinners). But where do the positive ones go? Well, he dedicates them to God.

God is a time capsule for all the positive feelings that are still left inside Fyodor. They're too vulnerable, too tender, too childish to share them with humans. People will only trample over them and leave him empty.

But Dostoevsky still can't part with his sentiments. They give his heart a little jolt so it can keep living a little longer. So where can he direct them?

God is left as his only safe space for that.

Fyodor treats the concept of God like a coffer, where he can store his dreams from the earlier days. All of his hopes, aspirations, fantasies are better be locked inside the God's chest. Since God is the only one occupying Fyodor's brain, he'll keep them safe.

Devine being became a target for Fyodor's affection because He can't reject or hurt Dostoevsky in any meaningful way. It's left up to Fyodor's mind to imagine God as he likes. And so he does it.

God becomes not only a symbol to thrive for, but also a companion that helps him to cope with the loneliness.

God accepts all the Fyodor's needs humanity haven't fulfilled. His agonizing idealism, his need for deep understanding of his soul and a connection that makes him feel at home.

Surely, during the centuries of Fyodor's life, he came close to forming a bond with people at least a few times. But the process of separation was so painful, Dostoy decided it wasn't worth it anyway.

His failure to organically morn the end of his relations led to his fatal inability to reattach once again. Fyodor mistrusts new people in his life: he compartmentalizes them, puts on labels, and tries to keep every interaction under control.

The only one who can relate to this mindset is Bram, but even he is able to break away from it because of Aya. Stoker risks taking interest in the girl and then sacrifices his life for her. Now Bram's time is no longer frozen in place, he's moving forward, his character progresses.

But Fyodor is too overwhelmed with his feelings and memories that have never healed. He probably thinks that even a small bit of a emotional pain will break him entirely. So even if someone comes to Dostoevsky, waving a friendship flag in the air, Fyodor will shut down to keep them away.

This is what happened with Gogol. Nikolai wanted to be friends with Fyodor. But Dostoy never showed him any of his deeper emotions. By hiding all personal information, Dos-kun maintained a distance between himself and a jester. So the later couldn't reach out to and comfort Fyodor even if he wanted.

Of course, there is always a chance that Gogol would use Dostoevsky's feelings against him. And Fyodor also probably thought about that, so he cut off that option entirely. Sadly, we'd never see where their connection could lead, if Dostoevsky chose to share with Nikolai his everything. Maybe, it would lead to an even bigger disaster, but perhaps they would be able to find some solace in each other.

Now Fyodor is too hurt to open up his soul. All the scars on it had fused into an armor, protecting him from caring about others. Dostoevsky's soul became a shell, impenetrable from the outside. He made sure it would never change. His fortress. His prison. His mind.

Trapped inside of it, Dostoevsky still craved for someone to be there for him. Fyodor wanted a friend with whom he could converse without lying. He wanted a family. Maybe, he even wanted a lover.

Therefore, God was cast in all the roles that had been left vacant in Fyodor's life. And of course, Devine Being could fulfill them better than anyone. At least, from the Dostoy's perspective, his life was easier this way.

In Fyodor's story, God is a star of every relationship he still has.

God is almost like a friend, but he won't argue back or abandon him in pain. He won't make Fyodor feel inadequate by disagreeing with his perspective.

God is like a family, but he loves Fyodor unconditionally or at least His “conditions” are kinder than human ones. They're much more bearable than the rules Dostoevsky had to abide by when he was a child.

God is like a lover, but his love isn't physically “sinful” (whatever sexuality Fyodor has, it's very morphed and repressed). Devine being won't be put off by Fyodor's appearance and won't leave once He sees who Fyodor truly is.

God is like a teacher, but he doesn't have a hidden agenda and actually wants Fyodor to be better. God knows indefinitely more than Fyodor, so He can always share something new from His well of knowledge.

And of course, God will never change, die or choose someone else. He is always there.

It feels safe for Fyodor to love and admire someone who is so perfect.

And well, God can't disappoint.

[galaxy-fleur]

Do you have any thoughts and headcanons about remake Leon pining and being down bad for someone he knew for a long time? Before Raccoon City or after all the same, i would love to read it :DD

Nothing like some good old slow-burn... It is an interesting thing to think about! Leon having someone that knew him before his life was forever changed would definitely have its upsides and downsides to it. For both parties involved. I do think a part of him will always crave that feeling of normalcy and stability that was stolen away from him. For someone to see that spark of innocence in him that he thinks he has lost now. Make him feel like that young, bright-eyed boy again that still had the control over his fate, even if for a moment.

Leon would feel more at ease, on the one hand. Someone knowing him so intimately means they actually know the real him, not just as an exceptional soldier, or a government's weapon, but as the same simple guy before the world was forever changed. And that's something he'll definitely want to indulge in. It's a nice feeling, to be looked at as a human and not as a weapon or an asset for once. He'll be overall just softer and more approachable with them. Even though he may become tough and battle-hardened, his actual self will always show through. And I'd say such a connection would bring those glimpses of his former self more often than not.

But, on the other hand, having someone who knew Leon before the Racoon City disaster also means that they see just how much he has changed. The pain and the weight of it all cannot be concealed from someone who knows you like that. There's no pretending that he's fine with being used as a tool. Not when you can compare it to that younger, truer version of himself. It's a double edged sword. Although he may find great solace in this familiarity, it may also act as a harsh reminder of what he has lost. And this goes the other way around, too. Witnessing someone you knew undergo such drastic change—and not voluntarily—must be difficult.

Seeing Leon's optimism wane and then slip away as he endures one agonizing ordeal after another must bee awful for his friend, too. While everyone else only sees a hardened professional, an old friend will only recognize a person they love pushing himself into something that's so far removed from everything they've both known.

So, there are definitely some nuances to explore here. As for Leon harboring feelings for an old friend like that... Hm, I think it depends on a position they're in, honestly. He'll definitely be way more open about it if they're in a similar line of work. However, it will be a little more difficult if they are a civilian. But his protective nature will remain constant. That's something that'll be a regular occurrence in either circumstance here.

More than anything, Leon wants to be able to protect those he cares about. It makes him sick to think of losing someone he cares about so much and not being able to keep them safe. That, of course, is a result of his failures in Racoon City. He won't be able to let go of that guilt until the events of RE4R (that's kinda what his story is about there, after all). It can become a little intrusive, depending on the personality of his friend. Although he has good intentions, his paranoid and protective nature may cause him to restrict their freedom or take away their agency in an effort to keep them safe. (I'm not talking about anything extreme here ofc!) That's something that can be a source of conflict for sure.

On a brighter note, you can also expect Leon to be way more softer, as I've already said! Tiny smiles, dumb jokes, remarks that aren't very funny but are charming in their own right, and awkward compliments every now and then. Those are all the things you can expect from him. He's not the greatest flirt, especially around someone who he has known for so long. Kinda hard to play Casanova when the person you want to woo knows all the embarrassing things about you. But he's charming without even trying.

And he's much more tactile, too! I feel like Leon tends to communicate through touch, so he has a natural tendency to be physically affectionate with those he's close to. He won't be clingy, per se. However, a light touch on your lower back or shoulder is common with him. Probably lots of headpats if his friend is shorter than him. It's a nice way to express affection without going too far with it. Will grab onto their hands, too. Mostly during an emotionally intimate moment.

Leon might even give out a hug or two for a friend like that. Most of the time, he needs it far more, honestly. Speaking of which, he's not only touchy himself, but he's also very receptive to touch, too.

For someone who always has to be on his guard, him not flinching at the touch but leaning into it instead speaks more than any words possibly could. More than anything, it's a show of trust and connection he feels to said person. It's very sweet, once you learn all the ins and outs of how he operates.

He won't go around asking for it, but if they were to go and offer him a hug? He'll absolutely melt into it.

[darth-kote]

SFW Tropes Masterlist

For writers - or for those who'd like to request a fic from me and need help generating ideas. Click here for the NSFW masterlist. Guidelines for requests can be found here.

Angst and Hurt/Comfort

Post-Battle Care: Tending to wounds (physical or emotional) after a fight.

Nightmares and Consolation: A character seeks solace after a distressing dream.

Bottled-Up Emotions: A character finally breaks down after holding everything in.

Survivor’s Guilt: Reflecting on losses and grappling with responsibility.

Grief and Healing: Finding a path forward after devastating loss.

Action and Adventure

Escape Mission: Characters must break out of an enemy stronghold or evade capture.

Treasure Hunt: Seeking an ancient artifact or holocron with unexpected challenges.

Undercover Operation: Posing as someone else in a high-stakes situation.

Hostage Negotiation: Characters navigating delicate situations to avoid disaster.

Defusing the Bomb: A tense countdown to prevent disaster.

AU (Alternative Universe)

Role Reversal: Characters swap roles (e.g., Jedi becomes a bounty hunter).

What If: Explore pivotal moments with a different outcome (e.g., “What if Order 66 failed?”).

Canon Divergence: A single decision alters the course of the story (e.g., “What if Qui-Gon survived?”).

Time Travel: A character is sent back (or forward) in time to change events or gain new perspective.

Relationships and Dynamics

Found Family: A group of unlikely individuals grows into a close-knit family.

Enemies to Allies (or Lovers): Tension and grudging respect turn into trust or affection.

Mentor and Protégé: A seasoned character trains or guides a younger one.

Unspoken Feelings: Moments of lingering glances and unsaid words.

Sibling-Like Dynamic: Bickering like siblings but with deep care.

Adoptive Parent: An older character becomes a mentor or caretaker.

Healing Together: A group works through shared trauma as a unit.

Mystery and Intrigue

Murder Investigation: Characters work to uncover the truth behind a crime.

Hidden Identity: A character conceals their true role or past.

Lost History: Unearthing forgotten lore or secrets tied to the Force.

Double Agent: Navigating the tension of working both sides.

Emotional Exploration

Forgiveness Arc: Characters work toward forgiving themselves or others.

Past Lives: Exploring flashbacks or reincarnation themes.

Letters and Holorecordings: Communicating through written or recorded messages.

Lighthearted and Whimsical

Mundane Adventures: Characters tackle everyday challenges (e.g., cooking, fixing a droid).

Unexpected Babysitting: Caring for a child or youngling in humorous or heartwarming ways.

Festival or Celebration: Participating in a holiday or local tradition.

Animal Companion: Bonding with a creature, whether friendly or ferocious.

Whump, Survival, and Isolation

Crash Landing: Stranded on a remote planet and working together to survive.

Quarantine: Stuck in close quarters due to illness or contamination.

Lost and Found: A character presumed dead is discovered alive.

Weather Woes: Trapped in extreme conditions like sandstorms or blizzards.

Injured and Alone: A character survives despite grave injuries.

Captured by the Enemy: Psychological and physical struggles in captivity.

Lost in the Void: Stranded in space with dwindling supplies.

Dark Themes and Morality

Fall from Grace: A character descends into darkness or betrayal.

Redemption Arc: A path to atonement after a character’s mistakes.

Doppelgängers: Facing a duplicate or altered version of oneself.

Mind Games: Dealing with manipulation, brainwashing, or visions.

Rivalry to Respect: Enemies slowly come to admire each other, even if it is never made obvious.

Hidden Humanity: An evil character reveals an unexpected vulnerable side.

Villain Wins: A world where the antagonist succeeds

Jedi and Force Mysticism

Force Visions: Cryptic glimpses of the past, future, or alternate timelines.

Lost Holocrons: Discovering ancient Force teachings with unexpected consequences.

Gray Jedi Exploration: Balancing Light and Dark sides of the Force.

Force-Bonded Pairs: Two characters linked by an unexplainable Force connection.

Romantic Tropes

Fake Relationship: Pretending to be together for a mission or disguise.

Forbidden Love: Romance defying rules (e.g., Jedi Code).

Slow Burn: Long build-up to a romantic confession.

Accidental Confession: A slip of the tongue reveals feelings.

Mutual Pining: Both characters believe their feelings aren’t reciprocated.

Culture and Worldbuilding

Exploring Traditions: Delving into unique customs of a planet or species.

Language Barriers: Characters navigate miscommunication.

Rebuilding After Tragedy: A community recovers from devastation.

Artifact of Power: A relic tied to ancient Force-users that affects the story.

Undercover or Espionage

Royal Disguise: Pretending to be someone of lower rank.

Spy Among Us: A mole within a group creates tension.

Assassin’s Target: The assassin and their target form an uneasy alliance. Or things don't go as smoothly as planned.

Deep Cover: A character fully immerses themselves in enemy territory.

Legacy and Destiny

Reluctant Heir: Inheriting an unwanted responsibility.

Prophecy Fulfillment: Fulfilling a foretold destiny with unexpected twists.

Living in the Shadow: Struggling with the expectations tied to being a legendary figure.

Defying Fate: Challenging a preordained path.

Time and Memory

Amnesia: A character forgets their identity and rediscovers themselves.

Alternate Timelines: Characters glimpse or visit different timelines.

Time Loop: Reliving the same moment until a lesson is learned.

Memory Sharing: Using the Force or technology to experience someone else’s past.

Humor and Lighthearted Tropes

Miscommunication Comedy: A small misunderstanding snowballs into chaos.

Droid Antics: A droid takes center stage with humorous behavior.

Overwhelmed Jedi: A Jedi struggles with mundane tasks.

Space Road Trip: A long journey full of banter and mishaps.

Crossover or Genre Mashups

Horror Elements: Haunted ships, Sith ghosts, or terrifying creatures.

Political Thriller: Intrigue within the Senate or Rebellion leadership.

Western Style: Lone bounty hunters and shootouts.

Heist Story: A team plans and executes a complex theft.

Personal Journeys

Identity Crisis: A clone, droid, or Force-sensitive questions their place.

Self-Exile: A character retreats from society and finds company.

Reunion Story: A long-lost character is reunited with friends or family.

Breaking the Code: A Jedi defies their teachings.

Battle and Combat

Last Stand: Characters make a desperate final stand.

Truce on the Battlefield: Enemies must work together.

Training Montage: A character hones their skills under a mentor.

Reluctant Fighter: A pacifist is forced into action.

Miscellaneous

Holovid Star: A character accidentally becomes famous.

Unlikely Hero: An everyday character rises to the occasion.

Force Ghost Encounters: Guidance or conflict from beyond the grave.

Lost Artifact: Recovering an item of immense value.

Clone Troopers

Identity and Brotherhood

Individuality vs. Unity: A clone struggles with being one among many.

Nicknames and Call Signs: The personal stories behind a clone's name.

Brother’s Keeper: A clone sacrifices everything to protect their brothers.

Clone-Centric POV: The galaxy through the eyes of a clone.

Post-Order 66

After the Fall: A clone wrestles with guilt over Order 66.

Defying the Programming: A clone resists the inhibitor chip’s control.

Living on the Run: A clone deserter avoids detection.

Reunion with the Jedi: An unexpected meeting with a Jedi they thought dead.

Training and Battle Bonds

Rookie Struggles: A young clone's first mission.

Veteran’s Wisdom: An experienced clone mentors a new recruit.

Unlikely Alliance: A clone teams up with an enemy.

One Last Mission: A retired clone is called back for a critical task.

Clone-Specific Dynamics

Armor Customization: The personal meaning behind a clone’s armor.

Dealing with Loss: Coping with the death of a brother.

Echoes of Kamino: Reflecting on their training and origins.

Enhanced Abilities: A clone with unique genetic traits.

AU and Alternate Scenarios

Rebel Clones: Exploring a timeline where clones joined the Rebellion.

Post-War Integration: How clones navigate a galaxy that no longer needs them.

Clone Defector: A clone switches sides to fight for the Separatists.

Found Family: A lone clone builds a new "family."

Sith and Dark-Siders

Rise to Power

Apprentice’s Betrayal: A Sith apprentice rises against their master.

Seduction to the Dark Side: A Jedi succumbs to the Dark Side’s temptations.

Master Manipulator: A Sith orchestrates events from the shadows.

Artifact of Power: A dark relic amplifies a Sith’s abilities.

Conflict with the Light

Pull to the Light: A Sith struggles with feelings of compassion or guilt.

Jedi-Sith Bond: A Force bond forces uneasy cooperation.

Redeeming the Sith: Can a Sith truly abandon their path?

Forbidden Alliance: A Sith and Jedi work together despite their differences.

Dark-Side Mysticism

Sith Spirits: Encountering the ghost of an ancient Sith Lord.

Dark-Side Nexus: Exploring places saturated with the Dark Side.

Bloodlines of Power: A Sith discovers their lineage ties to a legendary figure.

The Holocron’s Secrets: A Sith Holocron offers knowledge at a cost.

Sith Philosophy

Rule of Two: A Sith duo’s balance of power and betrayal.

Power at a Price: A Sith sacrifices something personal for ultimate power.

Survival of the Fittest: Infighting among Sith apprentices.

Eternal Struggle: A Sith sees their existence as a battle for dominance.

Redemption or Corruption

A Sith’s Redemption: A Sith struggles to redeem themselves.

Corruption of the Pure: A Sith manipulates someone to embrace the Dark Side.

Turncoat Apprentice: A Sith apprentice secretly undermines their master.

Moral Ambiguity: A Sith challenges the notions of good and evil.

Unique Sith Abilities

Force Alchemy: Experiments to create monstrous creatures.

Illusions of Terror: Using the Force to project terrifying visions.

Lightning’s Wrath: Devastating Force lightning.

Blood Rituals: Ancient Sith rites to enhance power.

AU and Alternate Scenarios

Sith as Heroes: A Sith defends their people or fights a greater evil.

Jedi-Sith Swap: A Sith raised as a Jedi or vice versa.

Light-Side Sith: A Sith rejects the darkness but embraces the teachings.

What If: A timeline where the Sith rule the galaxy.

The Force

The Force Playing Matchmaker: Despite all reason and seeming logic, the Force wants two people together. It won't stop meddling until Its vision becomes a reality.

Spiritual Connection

Force Bond: Two characters share an unexplainable, deep connection that allows them to sense each other’s emotions, thoughts, or presence across great distances.

Shared Visions: Characters experience a Force vision together, revealing shared destinies or hidden truths.

Guided by the Force: A Jedi or Force-sensitive character interprets the Force as encouraging their relationship.

Opposites Drawn Together: The light and dark sides of the Force pull two characters toward each other, creating tension and mutual growth.

Meditation Partners: Two characters bond over meditative practices, learning to sync their energies and emotions.

Conflict and Struggles

The Burden of Knowledge: One character hides a devastating vision or premonition involving the other, creating tension in their bond.

Teaching the Force: A Force-sensitive character mentors someone who is new to their powers, deepening their connection through shared learning.

Moral Differences: Clashing interpretations of the Force (e.g., strict adherence to the Jedi Code versus emotional connection) challenge their relationship.

Force-Driven Jealousy: A character senses their partner’s lingering emotions toward someone else, creating conflict.

Healing and Support

Force Healing: A character saves their partner by channeling the Force to heal their injuries, creating an emotional and physical bond.

Force Meditation Therapy: Helping a partner process grief, guilt, or trauma through shared meditation and emotional support.

Force Awareness: A Jedi or Force-sensitive partner instinctively knows when their loved one is in distress, no matter the distance.

Strength in the Force: Two Force-users amplify each other’s abilities when they are together, creating a sense of unity and trust.

*verging nsfw Force Tropes

Intense Focus: The Force allows one character to focus solely on their partner’s well-being, whether during battle or in intimate encounters.

Dangerous Proximity: When trapped together or forced to rely on the Force for survival, their bond deepens emotionally and physically.

The Will of the Force: A relationship forms or is tested because they feel their union is destined—or forbidden—by the Force.

The Dark Side's Pull: One character’s struggle with the Dark Side adds tension, as the other seeks to save them from being consumed.

Shared Visions of the Future: Intimacy is driven by a mutual vision of a life together—one they believe the Force has promised them.

Apologies for any similarities – I tried to keep it nuanced.

[film-in-my-soul]

WHEREIN ANEURYSMS ARE A SERIOUS CONCERN | 2,166 | atti (attilatehbun) / @recursivities

Summary: Billy has certain bad habits. Occasionally they don't actually lead to disaster.

Of Metal Rings and Other Things | 2,365 | atti (attilatehbun) / @recursivities

Summary: He's been aching, distracted, blood boiling under his skin ever since Teddy came home from class with a glitter of silver at the base of his neck, four sparks sending syncopated Morse code messages straight to Billy's nerves.

Steal The Sunrise And Keep It Close | 2,385 | atti (attilatehbun) / @recursivities

Summary: Didn't expect you to resort to attempted murder so quickly," Teddy says as he slips around Billy to get his head under the shower spray. "Well, you know me," Billy says, "big, scary, coulda-been supervillan. I'm made of underhanded tactics." "If 'pants on the floor' is the most creative thing you could come up with, it's probably for the best you didn't choose to follow that particular career path, B," Teddy says. "There's got to be a least an intricate death trap that'll provide you with enough time for monologuing." "I'll show you a death trap," Billy says

(See more recommendations below!)

Coda | 2,460 | atti (attilatehbun) / @recursivities

Summary: "Billy, come here," Teddy says, and Billy goes. He goes angry, frantic, crawling on top of Teddy and bringing their mouths together like a bruise. Bruise. Teddy had bruises, but he doesn't any more. Teddy's bruises are gone, faded away beneath his healing factor and now it's only Billy that can feel them, ripe and raw and painful.

Just a Dumb Human, Like You | 2,685 | frogy

Summary: "Wait, wait," Teddy says, breathless and rough, and if that's supposed to make Billy want to stop then Teddy has another thing coming to him. "I'm still-" Teddy says waving a hand at his appearance, as though Billy could have missed him being huge and green.

Major Relief | 2,831 | atti (attilatehbun) / @recursivities

Summary: When you spend all day in a chair, sometimes all you need is an excuse to stretch.

No Place Like It | 3,056 | SpiritsFlame / @spiritsflame

He has been living with Billy, sharing a house with him, for years. But this is different. This place is theirs. No guest bedrooms, no parents, no brothers (usually). Just them. Just Billy and Teddy, an apartment that barely holds their stuff, and a couch that needs christening.

Solace | 3,225 | Ardatli / @ardatli

Summary: His mattress was warm. Warm, and lumpy. And breathing. The head beside his was turned away, but Teddy would know it anywhere, eyes open or closed. Billy. He nuzzled in closer, buried his nose in Billy’s hair, breathed in long and slow. He smelled of soap and sweat, dust and sunshine, of rightsafelovehome. Teddy refused, absolutely refused, to open his eyes as he slowly drifted towards consciousness, memory returning in bits and pieces. Sounds – a soft electric hum, a tick-tick-ticking from another room, voices through the wall that was thinner than they’d hoped but in a building that the pair of them could actually afford – all things he’d get used to, given time.

The Exception that Proves the Rule | 3,478 | Ardatli / @ardatli

Summary: “What are you doing?” “They bounce,” Teddy muttered, her brow furrowed and shoulders tense. “It’s distracting.”

Journey on Route 17 | 3,691 | frogy

Summary: Going to Woodstock was Tommy's idea. Most things are.

When You're Sixteen | 3,723 | Ardatli / @ardatli

Summary: An art-swap fic for Cris-Art, based on her prompt: "Billy and Teddy, first mutual masturbation, at Billy's house after training with Iron Lad. A detail … Billy has no patience, and almost spoils everything."

Discourse In Ink | 3,903 | atti (attilatehbun) / @recursivities

The tattoo hurt, but it also felt weirdly good in a way Billy wasn't expecting, and for a while after it's done he felt sharp, strong, like he could remake the world. And while that part is technically true, it doesn't normally feel as light as this. Usually it's a heaviness that makes him feel like he could fall through the earth at any moment, but this-- This. This felt like he could leave it.

The Boys of Summer | 4,723 | Khirsah / @khirsahle

Summary: It feels…pretty good, actually, once he gets past the reflexive embarrassment. The faint wind is cooler against bare skin than it was through the hot black cotton. The sun feels amazing against his shoulders. Billy drops his T-shirt into his lap and anxiously picks at the hem, feeling color staining his cheeks even as he refuses to look at Teddy. He’s pretty sure one look will send him diving back into his shirt, or sprinting across the field, or teleporting to Siberia or something and, wow, okay, he’s sitting shirtless next to Teddy Altman and he really doesn’t need to throw up or get turned on or anything, so his body had better behave right the fuck now.

Whole New Ballgame | 4,976 | atti (attilatehbun) / @recursivities

Summary: Teddy had thought he could handle anything, that maybe he and Billy were a little bit old and married - which was its own kind of wonderful - and maybe that meant no more surprises like this, where the breath just gets punched right out of his lungs. But apparently not, because Billy in a mostly proper baseball uniform makes Teddy's, well, everything, just stop working, like an extremely not-painful lightning bolt straight to the dick.

Every Day That Gets To Pass | 5,279 | atti (attilatehbun) / @recursivities

The larger piece of Billy's home drops down next to him, his weight barely denting the mattress at all. Teddy reaches over and brushes some hair out of Billy's eyes. "Don't go to sleep yet, okay?" he says, and his voice is all Billy needs.

Time in a Bottle | 5,731 | Khirsah / @khirsahle

Summary: Billy tried to smack Teddy away, but heat was already coiling low in his belly. His cock stirred, hardening at the warm self-satisfaction in Teddy’s eyes. “Stop that, jerkface, or my parents are going to walk in on a heck of a lot more than us sleeping together,” he muttered.

Nightswimming | 9,134 | Khirsah / @khirsahle

Summary: “Hey, if I’m sober enough to not drown, I’m sober enough to…do other stuff.” Teddy cocked his head. “I’m pretty sure that’s not a great standard to set for yourself, Billy.” “Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure your face needs to be making out with mine right now, Teddy, so you should get on that.” He laughed, dimples flashing; his lips were wet and swollen—from his kisses, Billy realized with a dizzy sort of joy. Oh God, this was really happening. “No, but seriously, Billy.” “No, but seriously, Teddy, all I’m hearing is hi let’s French, so… Chop chop.”

Tigers on a Gold Leash | 19,900 | Ardatli / @ardatli

Summary: William of Genosha is a spare heir, and one thing spares are good for is solidifying peace treaties. A sight-unseen betrothal to an alien, however, was never going to be his first choice. Dorrek, heir to the Allied Kree-Skrull Empire, is just as unhappy about the idea. And one night's chance encounter has the potential to destroy the galactic alliance before it's even begun.

Fireflies | 23,825 | Ardatli / @ardatli

Summary: The world had washed in gray when Cassie and Vision died. Not all at once, or fast enough that he noticed right away, but the color leeched out from around the edges first until it had always been that way. It hurt to breathe. The ache lodged in the middle of his chest. If they cut him open they would see it, a physical thing, a bowling ball of bile and doubt and unshed tears.

Some Are Born and Some Are Made | 32,969 | flightofthedragons

“I am proud of you, you know,” Teddy’s mom said as she handed off her empty dishware. “For what?” Teddy laughed. “For getting a boyfriend?” “Mmhmm. For building a life of your own.”

I'll Cover You | 58,093 | isengard / @goulets

Summary: Animal Shelter! Billy just got his first job as a junior copywriter for Marvel Agencies, and decides that living on his own would be much more tolerable if he had an animal friend. He pays a visit to the animal shelter, where he falls not only for a rambunctious puppy named Tommy, but for the shelter's Care and Training specialist, Teddy Altman.

Rough Trade | 59,702 | Ardatli / @ardatli

Summary: It's the 1920s in New York, and anything is possible. Prohibition is underway but the gin-joints are hopping, and in some of the more underground clubs it's safe to be yourself. Billy Lehnsherr, one of the heirs apparent to the Lehnsherr fortune, steps out to find some fun... and finds a lot more than he ever expected. For Teddy Altman, orphan, life has been one kick in the teeth after another. And when something good finally walks into his life, he knows it's only a matter of time before it's taken away again...

Green Man From Outer Space | 68,430 | Ardatli / @ardatli

Summary: The one where the year is 1947, Prince Dorrek crashes his ship at Roswell, Bill Kaplan is an astronomer with a problem, and life gets complicated from there.

Wayfaring Stranger | 82,797 | Khirsah / @khirsahle

Summary: “Whoa, whoa,” a low voice cried. The horse snorted, and Billy heard the soft thud of hooves hitting the earth alarmingly close to where he was standing. It was so close, he could feel the muffled reverberations in the packed earth. Then, “Oh my God, are you okay?” No, he wanted to shout. He was trembling all over, knees actually shaking. Billy slowly dropped his arm and dared to blink open his eyes. He looked up—and up—and up—until he met those blue eyes, just as open and bright as the whole damned Big Sky country in a face that was, oh God yes, really incredibly handsome. The sharp words dried on his tongue; the fear drained away. He could actually feel his brain derail. Holy crap, that was one hot cowboy. “Um,” Billy said stupidly. “I. Yeah. I think…yeah. Hi.” “I am so sorry,” Hot Cowboy said. “I am so, so unbelievably sorry.” “No, hey, it’s fine,” Billy quickly assured him. “No harm done. Um. Nice horse.” Nice horse? He fought the urge to cover his face with his hands.

There's No People Like Show People by Ardatli / @ardatli

2 Part Series* | Rated G | Total Words: 4,618

Part 1 Summary: The door slammed open and Eli stormed in, flinging his clipboard down onto the table with dramatic frustration. Teddy shifted his coke can over about three inches to make space, but Eli just flopped into an empty chair in the boardroom and stole half of Billy’s sandwich out of the cellowrap. “Hey!” “Thank you,” Eli mumbled around a mouthful of turkey. “Also, I quit.”

*part 3 is kate/america and has not been counted

Gotta Catch 'em All by Ardatli / @ardatli

2 Part Series | Rated G | Total Words: 11,607

Part 1 Summary: Pokemon Go is Teddy's childhood dream come true - his own pokedex, a team to raid with, and control over at least one most excellent city gym. That is, until a new challenger appears...

at the end of the world by atti (attilatehbun) / @recursivities

2 Part Series | Rated M & E | Total Words: 17,343

Part 1 Summary: Maybe things weren't always so clear, Before, but Teddy thought he understood the world enough, understood who he was in it. These days, the road blurs the routine of search, scrounge, fight, hide, survive into a different kind of world with a new kind of people living it, and Teddy has to learn the type of person it's making him if he's ever going to find a way to fit.

*Retail Hell with the Young Avengers by thepinupchemist / @sergeantscarlett - @scarlettshazam

10 Part Series | Rated T & E | Total Words: 32,045

Part 1 Summary: David Alleyne works at the mall and has a crush on Noodles Guy. Meeting him does not go as expected.

*this series predominantly features the David Alleyne/Tommy Shephard pairing

Summer Lovin' by Ardatli / @ardatli

2 Part Series | Rated E | Total Words: 109,699

Part 1 Summary: The one where the gang are counselors at a sleepaway camp, and shenanigans ensue. A few dozen horny teenagers, minimal adult supervision, and five acres of nature. What could go wrong?

Teenage Wasteland by Khirsah / @khirsahle

3 Part Series | Rated M & E | Total Words: 254,465

Part 1 Summary: Billy leaned forward a little, watching as Teddy found a felt-tipped pen and began searching for a slip of paper. The napkins were all balled up and messy; the placemats were splattered with gravy. "Erm," Billy said, half afraid Teddy would change his mind. "Here," Teddy finally said, turning toward him. He caught Billy's hand between his own and turned it over, palm-up, his fingers calloused and warm against Billy's smooth skin. He smelled like…like something amazing. Oh, oh, wow, Billy thought dazedly, squeezing his knees together against the liquid rush of heat low in his belly; the glide of the pen against his palm was the most arousing thing he'd ever felt. The sight of Teddy's golden hair falling into his face made him want to do something incredibly stupid, like lean forward and kiss him, or throw his arms around his neck, or… Or something. Anything.

2024 Reclists · INBOX · Blog Updates

[livelaughlovesubs]

To be an otherworldly being, another species, someone who goes against all laws of nature, how wonderful that’d be

Humans fear you if you show your true self, they run and wish to get rid of you

Yet here is this one particular human who doesn’t seem to mind

He, who loves you unrequited, unconditionally:

Who trusts you with ever Fieber of his soul and body

Who allows you to carry out your instincts on him

Who doesn’t mind being your prey for all of enternity

Who is jealous when you carry out your carnal needs on other humans

Who turns a blind eye to all the disasters that comes with being with you

Who gasps in awe when you show him your abilities

Who smiles when you turn to him for solace, showing all these vulnerabilities you never dared to act upon

Who makes you wish you could tear your heart out and gift it to him

Who is helpless with you yet strong at the same time

Who feels safe in your embrace

In the embrace of a monster

[morkanslily]

(I.) In the End You are a Shell, and Nothing More.

summary: Two little dolls who lack a heart. While the first believed it was only he out of you two who lacked it in the metaphorical and literal sense, he came to learn that so too, did you.

notes: puppet!reader & scaramouche, where reader dies. In this, the Balladeer harbinger rank actually has two lords, with Scaramouche facing as its face, and you being considered in equal ownership of the role. Basically 2 lords in one

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

He truly did love you.

And oh, how he wished he didn’t.

Prior to this disaster, the herald of indignation was performing his required duties as harbinger. Tasks that were nothing more than mere inconveniences that only served to pull you further away from his grip. Excruciatingly long visits to lands beyond Snezhnaya, such as the country of Freedom and that of Contracts. And even then, these nations felt just as bitterly empty and cold as the former was without your presence. It anguished him to no end, how he agonizingly longed for you by his side. Not only because he yearned to see the way how your lips would curve humorously when your eyes caught his, but also how he found such desires childish—and maybe even embarrassing to an extent. He was a poet of ire, and you, his beloved, were his muse of recourse. After all, he is The Balladeer, is he not? In his long and miserable existence, he had sought solace amongst humans when the gods had forsaken him. But for every time he chose to, it would come back to bite him. What did he even expect, being so naive? Offering your hand to vicious and cruel beasts will only leave you without it.

 Nevertheless, you are an exception it seems. Exceptions… Ah, quite a rare occurrence indeed. For gods see no worth in him and neither does he sing their praises, and humans are too far beneath him to matter. In this perpetual purgatory of living, never once had he expected to come across you. You, yes, you, bear the same mark of mechanical existence as he. Destined to live an outlier amidst gods and men, you are the only being blessed with sentience who he deems his equal—his other half.

It always mystified Scaramouche how even the knowledge alone that you are indeed of his kind brought him reassurance for the eternity he had yet to spend with you. He would never admit it of course, but deep within the confines of his soul, he is elated to bask in your familiar presence and his thoughts of you. Just as a sunflower(despite him being the farthest man possible from said plant)will always bend towards the sun for dear life. To know that there is someone in this world whose touch is as cold and devoid of warmth as his, sends him into repose--where for just a brief moment, he is allowed to forget the veil of his burdens that trail behind. If the people of this world have turned their backs on him, at the very least, he has you.

And even then, you…

…

“God, why me…” the Fatuus underling muttered under his breath.

He tried, oh how he tried his best to not tremble as he treaded anxiously towards his superior. Genuflecting, it took all of his willpower and dried up hopes to not mistakenly stumble and humiliate himself. He would much rather endure the violent winter of his homeland than have to accomplish this task. But can you blame him, really? Nobody, and no one has ever wanted to face the ordeal that is Lord Scaramouche. Especially not this guy, with the message he was ordered to deliver. He couldn’t shake off the memory of those sympathetic looks and shaking heads behind him as he departed. Practically everyone agreed that this mission bestowed unto him was a death sentence. And what was that mission, exactly?

The harbinger donned a scornful look of malevolence as his impatient eyes scrutinized the poor fellow. His head was raised, perhaps to further incise the fact that he was echelons above. The subordinate knelt before him, preparing to deliver the news. The messenger shrank under his senior’s watch, with an unshakeable spine-chilling cold running through him. Though he dared not to gaze back, he felt the crushing weight of irritation scanning him, unpredictable and utterly terrifying. He shuddered to think that if he just so happened to breath, this behemoth of inhumanity could erase him from existence with a snap of a finger.

“Speak.” The Balladeer demanded, narrowing his eyes in anticipation. 

“Yes, my lord.” the subordinate replied. He cleared his throat, and carried on. “Er, one of our m-main base camps in Snezhnaya—specifically one that you direct has… formally requested for your immediate return. They ask that y-you may personally provide assistance."

“...And what for?” the harbinger scoffed. “Are the fools that I specifically assigned to do their own jobs that worthless?” he crossed his arms, clearly exasperated by such an outrageous demand. “Hmph, the audacity to bother me with such menial affairs. I almost feel insulted by their ineffectiveness alone.” The lord fell silent for a moment, which sent the subordinate into panic. What more did his superior want? Was he contemplating, or purposely engraving anxiety onto his soul to taunt him? He cringed, awaiting what would entail from this deathly silence.

The Balladeer turned his back on him, striding ahead, then coming to a halt. All that was left was a silhouette cloaked by darkness in the dead of night, as his diaphanous veil served to shadow his figure further. All the minion could see was the giant kanji on its back, echoing the words in his mind. 悪. Evil.

What a savage man he is, the underling thought. His future would be on the line, very soon. If he wanted to live, he would need to successfully get ahold of his own strings in this puppet show of life and death—and choose his next words wisely. As the sixth slightly turned his head, his veil followed, swaying in the breeze, slow and elegant such as the pirouette of a ballerina. Above all else, the most accurate way one may describe him would be an angel of death. Sent straight from the thunders of heaven, to forever damn and blight Teyvat. The subordinate gulped, and braced himself for the punishment to come.

“You aren’t stupid enough to have traveled all this way to waste my time, are you?"

“No sir. Actually, the camp that called for your backup was ravaged and left in ruin by a currently unidentified criminal. Most of the survivors were successfully evacuated, but the location remains unsafe.” He held his breath. “I’m afraid that… the 'other half’, was last seen there, and went missing.“

Silence, again. The Balladeer turned to face him, the wind coming to a startling halt. In that very moment, the world felt as though it was in stasis. Stasis that hid the imploding pressure underneath the surface.

“What did you just say?”

“The situation is urgent. So far we have not been able to find the ‘other’ Lord Balladeer, due to complications. I will elaborate further, but as of now I advise that you may depart as soon as possible.” the Fatuus finished. The overlord lowered his head, his wide brimmed hat concealing his expression.

“Hmph. Is that so?

“Uh...yes my lord?"

“Oh, but when did you have the authority,” he raised his head, revealing a wry expression. “...to make demands of me as well?” he sneered, looking back at the subordinate.

Shit.

“No, I..."

A bolt of lightning immediately vaporized the ground nearby, almost missing him. The impact left a painful singe on his side, with parts of his garments chipped and burnt off. He clutched his side in pain, fully collapsing to his knees. His ears rang painfully, and his vision blurred as he coughed on the ground. Fire bloomed in the grass, the embers alive and sizzling. Lord Scaramouche’s finger was still smoking, an expression of pure wrath plastered upon his face. His eyes wide, crackled and seethed with anger. Even the wind picked up, furiously blowing at his hair and garments.

“You humans are always so dreadfully annoying.” He muttered, gritting his teeth whilst smoke seeped between. His words were lacquered with acrimony. The harbinger strode forth with celerity, trampling weeds in his wake. “Useless.” he rubbed his hands together to stop the smoke. “Inefficient.” He shook his head. “Ugly, worthless specks of dust.” In his eyes, humans were no more than unsightly weeds that spread too fast and too far in the garden to be plucked. The only situation? To burn it all together. He looked down on the recuperating man, and grabbed him by the collar. “You vile vermin fail to do the one thing you are asked, and still have the impertinence to come back crawling to me for help? Tsk, how amusing.” When the Balladeer raised his other hand to strike once more, the pest scrambled to make his final move.

“ W-wait, my lord-"

Only then did the subordinate truly learn, that sinners never gain redemption in the eyes of gods and angels alike.

@mhiieee @rainxiaower ⭐️

[mama-scarebear]

31 and 37.

Also really love your blog, makes me feel less like a failure, more like a human

🌌🩷

31. are you messy or organised?

I am what I like to call an organized mess. I have severe adhd so everything is a mess but I have systems in place to navigate my messes to find everything I need. Is it a disaster to the eye and anyone who isn't me? Yes. Does it work? Most of the time...

37. share a secret

I actually started in the community as a little and very frequently fall back on that side of myself when stressed out. I'm like 60/40 in favour of being little over Mommy.

Also I'm glad you find solace in this blog. You're not a failure by any means I assure you. We make mistakes and that's normal. Those who've made you feel otherwise have lost touch with their compassion. Fail, learn, grow. That is human

[theevilmaninyourcomputer]

It's election night, and I'm sitting at my desk in the dark staring at the polls. The numbers aren't moving, we probably won't find out the results until Thursday, at the earliest. But I can't look away. It's like a six car pileup. I need to go to bed, but I don't want to go to sleep. Tonight, maybe ever again. I've been talking about the election nonstop all day. For my own sake, I need to stop. I'm chasing my tail, you know? Just running in circles, after nothing-like fighting will help. Like spewing the same tired talking points will alter the outcome of the presidential race. So I'm not going to talk about it.

The Gestalt processing theory states that (where perception is concerned) the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. I've been thinking about that concept a lot, recently. I mean, you want to talk about 'souls'? That seems pretty conclusive. I spend a lot of time marvelling, in equal parts wonder and existential horror, at the world around me. Everything hangs in a precarious microscopic balance, from the atom to the solar system, the chances of us being here are so improbably miniscule...I don't believe in miracles. But, well, if not a miracle, then what is that? I've never been religious. My immediate family skews Church of Christ which, if you're unfamiliar, is essentially Oklahoma's Mormon equivalent. But I've never bought into it. As I've aged, I've begun to label myself as noncommittally agnostic, rather than staunchly atheist. It's funny, a few years ago I spoke with a religious classmate of mine. He told me the church had been a net positive in his life. I told him that I wished I could believe in God, because it seemed so much easier than swallowing the truth. I told him I envied him. I did, I still do. People find so much meaning in faith, in the idea of Heaven. I have to find my meaning on earth, in life. I have to plant my feet and train my eyes on the future. I have to find hope in the people around me, in the person that I am becoming. So, when I write about religion, understand that this is my perspective: I am an outsider, looking into the church, wishing I could find solace in Bible verses, knowing that I never will. Which brings me back to my point. I've gotten more spiritually wishy washy as I've aged. I know where religious folks are coming from. When I first read about the Drake Equation in fifth grade, it rattled me to my core. Accounting for every measurable factor, Frank Drake estimated the number of intelligent alien civilisations to be in the hundreds of thousands. Which begged the question...where are they? There has been one primary hypothesis.

Maybe they all died out. Maybe every great civilization was doomed to fall. Olev Vinn suggested that "the lifetime of most technological civilisations is brief due to inherited behavior patterns present in all intelligent organisms." In other words, humanity is a self-fulfilling prophecy. Maybe there is a threshold that no civilisation survives. Nuclear war, climate disaster...safe to say, our outlook isn't so good. But, and this is important, the Drake equation is wildly inaccurate. And, by no fault of Frank Drake's. It's an improbable answer to an impossible question. Yet, it's almost 2025, and we haven't even found substantial evidence of alien BACTERIA, let alone intelligent extraterrestrial life. So why are we alone? Why are we here? What the hell is this?

How fantastically weird existence is.

I don't believe in God, and I don't think little green men are coming to save us from ourselves. We have to find our own purpose, we have to have faith in each other.

I bring up Gestalt theory as a rebuttal to the nihilist 'why even bother' mentality. If we're truly drifting through the vacuum on a pebble, why try? Why get up in the morning? Why commute to your bullshit nine to five? Why bother with any of it?

I'll tell you what we're meant to do here. We're supposed to live. I don't know why I'm here, I don't know how I'm here. But life is the only miracle I believe in. The whole is greater than the sum of its parts. It's easy to get lost in the anatomical intricacies of life, to dissect it, and pick it apart in pursuit of answers. It's easy to get complacent, to accept that things are the way they are and take this gift for granted. We are bizarre rube-goleberg machines, complex, fine-tuned, and ridiculous. This is true, but we are so much more than our bodies. This civilization is so much more than the structures that we have created. Are you listening to me? We created the meaning of life, because we are the whole. The whole is separate from its components. The whole is transcendent. The whole is the spirit of the human race, and it is indomitable.

So, this election is not insignificant, but remember. We are bigger than this. We are so much bigger than this country, than this planet. No matter what happens tonight, keep going. Keep living. Don't EVER throw that away.

[a-personiftranslator]

Okay but like. What if we whumped personified places

(This isn’t directed towards most of my follower base so that’s why I sound different)

I say ‘whumped’ but they could fulfill pretty much any role. Of course there’s the usual stuff about sensitive issues and whatnot, but also, royal/political/iron curtain whump (@dresden-syndrome) are already established things and so is the existence of multiple fandoms dedicated to personifications that contain HEAVY angst. Countryhumans may be a cautionary tale but hers is not the only one we should tell.

She/her is the default for personifs who are not primarily located on the internet (such as fandoms), and all personifs accept being referred to with she/her by humans, regardless of their gender(s).

Personification as Whumpee:

-countryspirit trying to survive under the rule of a monarch who is incredibly oblivious to her needs, or a paranoid dictator carrying out purges of her best at random and leaving her confused and disoriented.

-Personif bodies are composed of the feelings and memories of the people they, well, embody. Removing a memory is removing a physical part of themself. Enter a dictator trying to rewrite history.

-environmental whump, as the victim of a natural disaster. ‘fire season fic’ is a whole ass genre in Welcome to the Table and it absolutely decimated me, go read When The Fires Burn by TWolf_XD on AO3 if you haven’t already.

-eternally, conquests and invasion.

-the personification’s own people persecuting her as a witch, or similar undesirable.

-cityspirit of fame struggling to keep up with the cameras.

-personification completely dependent on one person. extra spice if it’s the founder. (shameless plug for my Ira and Aaron series)

-unrecognized personification suffering under the weight of not being considered real.

-cityspirit in the process of being demolished.

-the victim of sacrificial rituals. they are the whole life of the community and can be beheaded as many times as is necessary, as they will not die, at least permanently.

-their ruler-to-be’s whipping boy (gender neutral).

-places where the government and society are conceptualized as a family—with the absolute monarch as father.

-personification forced to marry her despot. capital cities were once considered the wives of their patron gods.

Personification as Whumper:

-eternally, conquests and invasions.

-exploiting exchange with her leader to the point where they collapse from somatic burnout.

-laughing at the miseries of those she has outcasted.

-the ‘mother country’ and her ‘children’.

-the private torment of the ruler-to-be.

-cause of environmental whump; leaving her least favorite people quite literally out in the cold.

Personification as Caretaker:

-the entire concept of the mother/fatherland. she will be there, welcoming you home.

-the anger of a personification when you hurt someone she loves is *not* something you want to be in the way of.

-cityspirit becoming surrogate mother to an orphaned child.

-countryspirits sending aid to one of their own.

-personiftranslate Operation Yellow Ribbon.

-countryspirit taking care of her wounded ruler-to-be, providing them with solace and a window to the lives of the common people.

-personification literally just existing in a space where she is needed. she is made of the feeling of belonging the way we are made of connective tissue, so long as she accepts you.

-human finding a fandomspirit and answers to why they are the way they are (me).

I just finished a book about SA during wartime and I have Brainrot but I’m not sure if I should elaborate.

[twobigtrucks]

i love the thought of sig and moira being besties but it being like,,, them DESPISING each other bc moira is fucking insane and siebren doesnt agree with her work but he somewhat tolerates it (he supports womens rights and wrongs☝🏾☝🏾) but they’re the only two ppl autistic enough to b interested in their respective sciences and give each other feedback that they like. somewhat respect each other. they’re extremely hostile mlm/wlw besties but siebren actually tries to treat moira like a decent human being and she can’t handle positive human interactions so she like. short circuits.

siebren is the only person she’s ever considered the thoughts and feelings of before and moira is so fucking confused but accepted it at some point. sig is like “hey girl! maybe this isn’t a good idea 🫶” and she’s like “yeah i guess you’re right i’m still going to do it but i’m acknowledging your words.” and when siebren is right and it ends up in a huge disaster, he just gives her a look and it makes her so mad cuz she hates it when hes right 😭😭 he writes a ten page essay on why she’s wrong and she wants to shove the paper down his throat. they r literally girls that say “omg hiii haii :33” vs girls that say “bruh”,,, he is so nice and amazing she does NOT deserve him

despite their VERY obvious difference in morals and sciences, they find solace in each other when others in talon aren’t understanding the importance of their work. they find themselves quietly working side by side in a shared lab late at night quite often! sometimes, siebren will bring moira a coffee and even rarer, she’ll bring him one as well if she notices him nodding off.

they r sillay friends ^_^!

[polarisbibliotheque]

Nemesis (Vergil x Reader) - Chapter 3

Nemesis

Pairing: Vergil x Reader

Summary: The Abyss opening is a rare occurrence. In his youth, Vergil wanted to harness its power, but never thought he would meet his greatest adversary along the way. Years later, the Abyss is once again open and that might call for some rather unlikely alliances.

Chapter 1 (Prologue) | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 (you are here!)

Age restriction: 18+ - there’s a lot of blood, violence, cursing and all those things people want to forbid younger audiences of seeing. Also, cosmic horror is a thing here. Procceed with caution.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Deals with trickster entities and death omens :)

Special Thanks and Credits: @furyeclipse is the wonderful creator of a very main character in all this plot, Ovid - the trickster being the reader will be dealing with and who will have many interactions with the crew. Fury helped me to write some of Ovid's key moments, their realm, their appearance and their mannerisms - after all, it was all Fury's creation and I'm just honored to be able to share such a rich character and worldbuilding!

Thank you so so much for allowing me to add your character to Nemesis and for being such a wonderful friend!

You can check Fury's work on their Ao3, which you can find here: FuryEclipse Ao3

Strongly suggest you guys reading Devoid of Purpose, where you can understand Ovid better ;)

Author's Notes: It took me a little while for this one and I do apologize, but my health isn't the best currently. I will have to go through some medical exams in the upcoming weeks and I'll start taking some meds, so I might have some delays/disappearances from writing. But I will ALWAYS come back to post Nemesis!!

This was a very fun chapter to write. I do enjoy Ovid a lot and their interactions with the reader are 10/10 based on knowledge seeking. Get ready for fighting (and annoying) Vergil on the next chapter, though ;)

Chapter 3

The city reeked of blood and destruction.

After so many years from your city’s incident, you never expected your memories to feel so alive. But there they were, haunting every corner of a new disaster – ghosts of a past you longed to forget, back to cling to your slivers of sanity like demons burying their claws in human flesh.

That city had fallen into chaos. People were crying, screaming, running around in despair looking for solace – for something or someone to save them from whatever the Abyss had attracted.

They first looked at you with hope and admiration – only to change to fear and horror when they realized that, even if your victims were demons, you were a killer after all.

And a very skilled one. Behind your footsteps, no demons were allowed. To fall into your protection meant to be safe; to find salvation amidst all that hell. Even if people feared you and your bloodstained hands, they were grateful for being their only hope of survival.

“Is everyone out of the city already?” You cleaned the blood that spilled on your face while walking towards the captain of the city’s guard, in charge of the evacuation.

Even the soldiers looked at you with a certain unease in their eyes. No one would want to get into a fight against you.

“The last two safe buses are just ready to go.” The captain, though, was the only one able to look into your eyes without hesitation. He could use a soldier like you. “Next one is for me, my crew, and you, y/n.”

“Thank you, but I’m not going with you.”

Your comment sent a wave of whispers among the soldiers. Before the captain could answer, you explained yourself.

“The Abyss is far more dangerous than we know. Someone has to stay behind and make sure it’s going to close without anything going in or coming out.”

Of course, you’d never say it was the only place you would certainly find the blue coated devil who almost killed you back in your city. You were certain he would be there but, so far, no blue demons crossed your view.

And you were especially aware of it.

“Well. You have a good point there. Just make sure to come back alive, alright?”

“Will do. I have to help a friend with laundry next week.”

No one understood your comment, but they also wouldn’t ask. You swinged your silver blade to get it rid of the blood and paced back into the city.

It was time to meet an old enemy.

*

As your steps echoed through the streets of the abandoned city, you had this uncomfortable feeling at the base of your stomach. It seemed like eyes were fixed on the back of your head and hands rested heavily on your shoulders.

But no one walked those streets except you.

Keeping your silver sword in hand, you didn’t stray from your path. The Abyss was close: you had learned to discern between how demons and the Abyss felt like as you started working as a devil hunter. While demons were certainly unnerving, the Abyss had something of… Uncertain. A sense of unknown – and the knowledge of what that was could be worse than fatal; probably better left in the realms of shadows.

But there was a… Third energy. Something else you couldn’t quite pinpoint its origin. It was unnerving, yes, but it felt… Old. Older than whatever demons you could’ve met.

Your steps approached an ancient building – probably a public school; you couldn’t exactly tell what it was. And you would’ve remained focused on your main objective if you hadn’t glimpsed inside the building.

A pair of eyes observed you from the shadows. It stared at you before disappearing deeper into the darkness, but you could swear those eyes were yours.

“What gives…?” You murmured to yourself, barely feeling your feet unconsciously following those eyes, as you crossed the derelict entrance.

You should be going towards the Abyss. That was the reason why you were there, it was the main purpose of you being hired that day. But… How come you saw a being with your eyes inside that building? As you entered the main hall, you found nothing but a reception desk and paper tossed around, ripped and burnt as people fled. Observing into the darkness, that place was a library.

Infinite rows of old mahogany seemed to go deep inside the shadows – until your eyes could barely make out any shapes. It was all probably in your head: dealing with demons made one prone to hallucinations, sooner or later.

As you prepared your feet to leave, you heard a scratchy metallic noise – faint, in the distance, but still there. Turning around, you stared into the shadow and you could swear your eyes picked up something moving.

You couldn’t tell what it was – if it was a demon, a creature or a human. But it was someone. If it was a human, it needed your help. If it was a demon, it deserved to die.

You decided to let your steps follow the sound.

Upon entering the rows of destroyed bookcases and rotting books, you kept on following that light metallic noise – like gentle knifes scratching at the floor, wood or any surface it could touch. Your eyes caught glimpses of a shadow, but never its full form. You turned your head around, your feet followed with precision – your curiosity leading you further and further into the labyrinth of old pages and decaying wood.

When you reached what it seemed to be the center – a round open space, surrounded by aisles and aisles of mahogany bookcases – your white rabbit seemed to have disappeared. There was no other indication of which path you should follow to find it, and you couldn’t deny you were certainly lost inside the library.

Your steps circled the room, slowly, trying to find your way out or the creature leading you further inside. Perhaps… Perhaps it was him. The devil who defeated you that fateful day, the one you longed to rematch. Maybe it was his way of leading you into a trap – and, if it was, you would be ready. Holding your silver sword with certainty, you wouldn’t be caught by surprise.

That library certainly looked like a proper place to defeat him and hold your sword to his neck, while one of your feet held his chest down on the floor, keeping him in his place. No demon was superior to a human, and you would prove him that.

The metallic tapping brought you back from your thoughts, dissipating the image of you finally subduing the blue coated demon. Turning around, you found your eyes again at the end of a long, dark aisle. With resolute steps, you plunged into the darkness, without flinching or thinking twice.

The eyes disappeared as soon as you started to follow them – but, upon reaching the end of the aisle, you found a great wooden door with an old plaque by its side. Cleaning the dust to see it better, you read what it was: “Forbidden Session – Entry allowed only upon authorization”.

Indeed, the door had an old black iron lock, probably requiring an iron key to enter. You tried to force it open a few times, but it was to no avail. With a deep, slightly frustrated sigh, you turned around to look for a way to open it – but your search wasn’t needed: as soon as you rotated on your feet, you found a great, heavy iron key waiting for you in one of the shelves filled with dust.

It didn’t escape your eyes the key was clean despite how abandoned the place looked.

Without questioning, you took it on your hands and finally opened the heavy door. Its hinges complained as you pushed it open and your steps entered the room.

Your heart slightly jumped inside your chest for a couple of quick seconds. It seemed like your eyes got used to the darkness, but soon you realized that session of the library was lit in a procession of warm candles that seemed to never really burn out. The door behind you was closed, and the reception desk had an old, heavy guestbook ominously waiting for you between two candles lit with purple flames.

You didn’t let go of your weapons. Strengthening your grip around the silver, you walked over the guestbook – finally noticing your steps weren’t the only sound to be heard: a faint, albeit calm, piano song filled the air. You didn’t know where it came from, but it was weirdly… Soothing.

“Traveler from afar, if you wish to drink upon the knowledge of forbidden and forgotten books, you must let go of your protections and sign your name. Only then, the library will welcome you among its pages and endless words. Beware, though, not to get lost in other worlds: some writings are tricky and the search for knowledge might claim your soul.”

Those were the words written on a blank, old page of the book waiting for you at the reception. Let go of protections and sign your name. Both conditions were tricky and asked too much of you: the protections were your weapons, and your name could be used in ancient spells for many purposes. The book asked you to be completely vulnerable and you weren’t comfortable with that.

“Hmmm…” You wiggled your nose while thinking, murmuring to yourself. That presence remained around you, but there was no reason to believe someone was really watching you. And, if there was indeed a being following you, they could at least try to answer any questions. “I wonder if this place has information about the Abyss…”

As you muttered, something seemed to fall in the inner part of the round reception desk. There was no one to receive you, so you took the liberty to inspect what made that noise. You found another book on the floor – this time bigger, older, and seemingly infinite: clearly a product of magic. There were no doubts you had crossed into another realm and, even if you didn’t know how to go back, your curiosity was bigger than your fear.

Taking the leather cover into your hands, you leaned the book in one of your arms, opening it with your free hand. Your eyebrows raised in delight as you realized you were staring into a library Index: all books and their subjects were noted down in beautifully crafted calligraphy, with a note on their location inside the library.

You turned page after page in what it seemed like an endless passing of time – as if Time itself didn’t exist in that wonderful realm of books and knowledge you had found yourself into. That presence seemed to keep watching you; intently, carefully… Curiously. As curious as your eyes running on the pages searching for more knowledge on the Abyss.

“Aha…” You finally found what you were looking for. The Abyss and other Ancient Realms – that was the only title on that theme. It was in the Restricted Session, and that could only indicate you would have a price to pay for that knowledge. “Alright. Let’s find the Restricted Session then.”

As you murmured those words, a path of purple flames lit the way to said Restricted Session. You wouldn’t have to worry about becoming trapped or never finding your way back: the library would show where the knowledge you needed was – your will would have to bring you back.

With a deep breath, you let go of your silver sword, leaning it on the reception desk. You placed your guns by the side of the guestbook, taking an inking pen and, after dipping it in the deep purple ink, you signed your name in the old, yellowish pages.

You were completely vulnerable, but you could use your arcane knowledge to your advantage. You had tested it before in several situations: the blood spell you did on your silver sword was very efficient in bringing it back to you in dire need. The blood inside it felt the calling of the blood in your veins, it didn’t matter the distance. It could take some time, but your trusted sword would be there to protect you – and that gave you some peace of mind.

The Restricted Session was less ominous than you thought it would look like. Behind the black iron bars of the gate that kept curious hands at bay, lied an obsidian box that could keep just one book inside, framed by the light of many sparkling purple candleflames.

“You who search the oldest of secrets must leave something in return.”

An old, golden altar stood beside the bars of the Restricted Session, keeping you between the knowledge of the Abyss. It was at your hand’s reach, so close and yet, so far away. You wanted it with your whole heart, but that altar was a warning and a deal: you had to sacrifice something if you wanted to learn something new.

No small offering would be enough for that book – no, it had to be a big one. Something beloved, something cherished. Something your heart would break to part.

Your guardian angel’s deep blue shawl.

You touched the soft fabric, your heart jumping inside your chest. Of everything you were willing to part of, that was your most prized belonging. It was the only thing that reminded you of some protection, of some gentleness. You didn’t want to let go – you wanted to keep the memory of your guardian angel close to your heart forever.

But you could never attain the knowledge you needed without making sacrifices.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep and slow breath. It was stupid to cry over a piece of fabric, so you wouldn’t – even if your heart wanted to weep. Unwrapping it from your neck, you once again opened your eyes, carefully placing your beloved shawl in the ancient golden altar. The purple flames reflected a beautiful dance in the only memory you had of your guardian angel… Of you being cared for and remembered, at least by someone.

With your heart sinking in your chest, a heavy click opened the gates of the Restricted Session, allowing you to go in.

The obsidian box was open, revealing a big, ominous book with a deep blue leather cover. The Abyss and Other Ancient Realms – the letters were in silver, slowly fading with time, but beautifully crafted inside a gothic frame of vines. You took it into your hands, the weight almost heavier than your sword. It shouldn’t be, but some books held more knowledge than others. Some enchanted books, with infinite pages, impossible to run out of space in its binding.

You left the Restricted Session, looking over your shoulders one last time to catch a glimpse of your cherished blue shawl. It seemed like leaving a piece of your heart behind, but you took a deep breath and kept on your path back to the reception desk – you wouldn’t cry, at least not with your eyes, and you wouldn’t turn back once more either.

What was done was done. You had made your choice, and you wouldn’t go back.

As you approached the reception desk once more, though, a dark figured towered around it – and the eyes. It had your eyes.

It looked like a Eurasian Eagle-Owl, feathers in deep purple and black, glistening with the trembling candle flames. Its chest carried a blood red glow, faintly able to see under its jet-black wings. It stood tall, far taller than you, smart eyes mimicking yours as it followed your every move with interest and mischievous curiosity. Only when your careful steps got close enough you were able to see it had two sets of wings – one close to its body, another resembling the mannerisms of human arms.

You had your eyes in it – carefully drinking its every move. You didn’t know if it was friend or foe; if it tried to attack you, your sword, peacefully laying behind it, would have to make its way to your hand.

“If you’re looking for that white rabbit, he’s not here.” Its voice reverberated through walls and the floor, catching your ears and your heart. You’d say it was a demon, but something about its energy was… Different. Ancient. “But I sense that you seek a knowledge that is worth pursuing to the darkest depth of the Underworld to find it.” As it finished speaking, a small laugh followed the words, clearly enjoying your curiosity that led you to that realm. “How will curious little Alice accomplish such a dangerous feat?”

“With courage. You have to be curious in order to be brave.” Your answer was certain albeit careful. Never before you had encountered a demon that resembled the creature standing before you – and the Codex Daemonica had no information about that. “I wonder. If I was led here but there’s no white rabbit to be seen, who am I talking to? The Cheshire Cat?”

Once again, that laugh reverberated through your chest, while its feathers shook with delight. Of all creatures you had met, that was the first who made you unsure. As far as your knowledge went, you could be talking to a trickster, like the ancient Norse deity, Loki.

“Alice should know better that names are not to be given so lightly.”

You just stared back into your own eyes, a small unsatisfied smile coloring your lips. You had signed your name; you had given it already. But words have power, especially the ones voiced by one’s own lips. If you wanted its name, you had to give yours – you had to voice it so it could voice its own. An eye for an eye, a hand for a hand, a name for a name.

“Y/n. My name is y/n, as I signed in the guestbook already.” You said after a deep breath. You could be making a huge mistake, but the book in your arms was worth whatever price. You had already left your guardian angel’s shawl – there was no going back now.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, little Alice.” The creature bowed its head slightly, making you mirror its chivalry. “You can call me Ovid, master of this realm.”

“You certainly have a wonderful library, Ovid.” You couldn’t keep secret the fact that you had a Restricted Session book in your arms: Ovid probably knew what you had given up for it already and you had every intention to check that book out. For good or for bad. “With knowledge that even the best arcane libraries in the human realm only dream of.”

“Indeed, y/n, indeed… How far would you go fur such knowledge, little Alice?”

“As far as necessary, dear Cheshire Cat.”

Its eyes reflected the same fire that burned in yours – but you didn’t look down. You had already met that stare before: years ago, when fighting the blue coated devil, it was that sort of glance that commanded you to give up and made you only ignore it and remain stronger in your own will.

It was rare for Ovid meeting such a strong-willed human. A journey alongside you could be quite interesting, after all.

“I see you have already accessed the Restricted Session…” Ovid murmured back, glancing quickly at the book in your hands. “To check out such knowledge, in the other hand, there are a few conditions.”

“As I said before, I’m willing to go as far as necessary. I already gave up something dear to me.” It was rare for you to put yourself in such a vulnerable position, but there you were. That book was worth much more than you could ever dream of and, if you needed to, you would fight that creature for it – even if you didn’t know what it was.

“And you can read it in my realm whenever you see fit, as long as your offering remains in the altar.” Once again, it bowed its head slightly, only to turn those bright, cunning eyes back to you right after. “But in order to return constantly, I shall need something in return.”

You smiled. There was always a catch. That’s how it was when dealing with demons.

“What is it?”

“For which purpose does little Alice needs such a book so desperately…?” You could hear it in its voice: they knew you had a goal, that you needed that book not only for curiosity, but for something else.

You had to be honest and vulnerable – something you avoided with all your strength. There were no cards left up your sleeve and the only thing you had in your advantage was that you could summon your silver sword at any moment – unless Ovid had sensed that spell already.

“There are no books in the human realm with knowledge on the Abyss. Whatever it is, I need to know more about it to keep it from destroying entire cities like it did to mine.” You took a deep breath, never lowering your eyes from Ovid’s cunning stare. “I will write a Codex Abyssae, just like there is a Codex Daemonica, so other hunters may be able to protect other people. This…” You looked down at the book in your arms, furrowing your brows. “This is the best source I found to this day. I can’t let it go.”

As your eyes went back to Ovid’s, you could swear it was smiling – after all, you knew how your eyes looked when you were doing so.

“Well, well, little Alice…” There was a tinge of delight in its voice, and you couldn’t refrain your heart from being wary. “It seems that the Fates brought our paths together, then. This book can only be read on my realm, however you might be able to come and go as you please for your research as long as you keep its information updated.” Those eyes, your eyes, glinted with a smart burst of energy of something that hadn’t had that much fun in centuries. “You see, my collection, sometimes, gets obsolete. Inside this book, you will find everything you need to know on the Abyss, but I’m afraid there is so much more yet to be discovered. It will be an honor harboring a copy of your Codex Abyssae along my many pages and oceans of words.”

One of their wings pointed back at the book. As you observed the cover, The Abyss and other ancient realms title disappeared, only to give room to the carefully crafted, gothic silver words of Codex Abyssae.

That was your book. That was your research. If you accepted it, all that knowledge, all that power would be yours – and you would get to update it, as well as write your own version for the human realm. It was really a lot more than you could have wished for, even if it bounded you to that creature you knew so little about.

“What happens when I am done?”

“You cannot return.” Ovid’s voice was calm, acting as if it was just another day in their eternity. Their eyes, though, glinted with delight. “The Codex will return to its safety in the Restricted Session. Your shawl will be returned. You will have your knowledge, and I will have mine. Our deal will be over.”

Of course, it was a deal. Something like that always had a price.

And you were willing to pay it.

“How do I access the library to read the Codex when I need to?”

“You can always summon me with one of my feathers, dear Alice.”

It seemed like you hadn’t noticed it before, but right by the guest book, there was a golden dish with a silky, long black feather in it. Like you imagined before, you would be bound to that creature to a certain extent, as long as you kept your part of the bargain. They would give you knowledge if you delivered knowledge in return.

It was a small price to pay, in your point of view.

“Well, then. You have yourself a deal, Cheshire.” You took a deep breath, declaring your will out loud. “I will keep the Codex Abyssae updated as long as I can come and go from the library and read it for my research, Ovid. Deal.”

That laugh reverberated through the library once more as you reached for the feather. You could finally leave the Codex on the reception desk, knowing you could come back any time and spend hours and hours reading it to your heart’s desire.

“I have to finish the job I was hired to do, but when I want to come back…”

“I will be there to guide you into my realm, little Alice.” Ovid made a small signal with their head, making you slightly bow in return.

“Thank you for allowing me to have access to your library, Ovid.”

“Thank you, little Alice, for giving me such knowledge to build upon, but do be careful on the road ahead.” Their warning caught you off guard, making you stop as you were ready to get your weapons once more. “You have been close to death once before, I can see that.” As those words filled your mind, you furrowed your brows. “Before you go, I shall give you a piece of advice to mull over. The next time you end up on death’s doorstep, it will take you without hesitation. So, live a fruitful and fulfilling human life, with the time you’ve got left. Death does not give second chances lightly.”

That warning placed a heavy weight on your heart, taking your breath away for a few seconds. You had defied death once but, as it seemed, you wouldn’t be able to do it twice.

With so much left to do, you kept that warning in a place you could think about later. You struck a deal. It was done. You couldn’t turn back now.

*

As soon as your feet left the door that got you inside the library, you found yourself back into the derelict building that led you there. You glanced back, hoping to see the purple flames and the reception desk once more – now with your weapons back to your grip and the feel of your trusted sword hilt calming your heart – but you only found an old empty room, with books and paper scattered all over the dusty floor.

You were back – and it all seemed like a lifelong dream. You would consider it all to have been just your imagination, if Ovid’s feather didn’t weight inside your coat’s pocket. Checking once more, your fingers found the silky touch of the feather and you knew; it was all true. You had struck a deal with a trickster, maybe a demon, maybe something older – you weren’t sure. But you had done it for a knowledge and a power the strongest demons could only dream of.

Your steps quickly led you back to the round hall surrounded by the labyrinth of mahogany aisles, lit only by a sheer light that entered through the cracks in the walls. Soon, you would find your steps away from that building, back to your job, to make sure the Abyss would close, and nothing would be able to go in – or get out.

“This time, I will not allow you to go any further… Little human.”

That voice. It was his voice. You were certain of it.

Turning around, you smiled as you saw a very well-known silhouette lit only by the stray rays of light, framing his shoulders and his conceited head held high in the air – the sword on his hand, ready to attack; the smirk framing his arrogance… His eyes, defying yours with a fire burning in silver. The blue coat gracing him as a frame.

You smirked back, holding your head high and staring back with your burning eyes.

“Long time no see… Demon.”

**

To be continued...