#i know the fandom's interest in these two is limited at best

[whirlpool-blogs]

whirlpool's personal MOTA fic recs!

I've actually been dying to put this together for a while now...today is as good an excuse as any! I might not know everyone's tumblrs vs ao3 names so I will NOT be offended if you tell me to correct something!! <3

the big list = going alphabetical order in my folder because YES I do download my favorites, it's like having your own little bookshelf!!

non-clegan fics:

nine mothers' sons by @reallylilyreally (truly beautiful, breathtaking, and **THE** John Brady bible for the fandom so make sure you pray to it every night)

at your heels by @reallylilyreally (this one is Ev Blakely, another really beautiful story that helps you understand just why Crosby's memoir speaks of Blakely with such love and affection)

clegan (or gale-centric, or john-centric) fics:

A Direct Solution by @sweaterkittensahoy (Gale & Marge proposition Bucky...so cute and so hot)

ain't it easy? by @stereobone (dom/sub with john as the dom but ohhh man it's so much more than just that!!!!! this fic is so full of FEELS. and it's also HOTTTT. and also the FEELSSSSS.)

all the rest of what I want with you by @london-cowboy (the level of care that went into writing this fic is insane and impeccable. down to its own internal timeline, little egan kiddos, and the ANGST. but it's all worth it, I promise!!)

back home where you're from, that's the measure of a man by wolfhalls (nice little oneshot of the bucks, I love the back-and-forth of their dialogue in this one, it really does feel like two people who know each other well)

bittersweet between my teeth by @blixabargelds (post-war adjustment...love when the two majors are a little messy and a little sad and also john calls gale the prettiest thing he ever saw so there's that <3)

bluebirds singing a song by ourdarkspirits (Marge jumps Bucky's bones. Then Gale joins. Super fun, super hot!)

Close and Yet Closer by Anonymous (LITERALLY THE MOST!!!!!! FIC OF ALL TIME!!!!!!! Gale is a little bit mean and John is a lot bit sweaty. Like all the time. it's amazing and you should read it and it WILL change your life.)

Corpse Song by birdwif (oof. john is miserable in the stalag he's scratching at the door he's gnawing his own leg off.)

deep breath baby by @defnotanarc (um FISTING. yeah. intense and delicious. side note sometimes the world isn't fair and people who are really talented and amazing at drawing are also really good WRITERS too LIKE WTF!!)

DOG DINNER by @wompire (super interesting writing style, extremely poetic and striking. hits you right in the gut.)

everything and the kitchen sink by @swifty-fox (YEAH THIS ONE WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE TOO. modern au where gale is a professional dom and john is a journalist who hornily consents to both (1) fucking around, and (2) finding out. in top ten fics of the decade in general tbh)

Freed From Desire by @feyd-meowtha (yoooooo such a fun and free and sexy fic!!! such a great writing style and such a cool remix of all the characters we know and love!)

He wears his love around his neck by kasugayamaisforlovers (Gale character study, he tries to run his little gay thoughts away which is always so fun to see)

hold me like a knife by storm_warning (tw: self-harm, this REALLY gets into John's self-destructive stalag spiral and it's super visceral and wet and heart-wrenching and written with such, such care and precision)

Hound Within the Heart by Anonymous (fairy-tale esque, gets super crazy and pushes the limits of reality but in the best ways possible)

I Don't Wanna Be Alone Tonight by @johnslittlespoon (cuddling for warmth <3 and then a little more <3 <3 so sweet and intimate!!)

I Like A Bad Boy by @nicijones (modern college AU and bucky is a fratty fuckboy type & in this fic he DOES punch a guy for Gale and it's all very hot and sweet and a delight to read)

i wish you wouldn't tell me (about your hawaiian party) by @whitetrashjj (when the fuckbuddies thing gets messyyyyyy because gale catches feelingsssssss, so delicious and meaty!!)

if that isn’t love, it’ll have to do by @irregularcollapse (ALWAYS such incredible character reads from this author, never misses. also facefucking. also FACEFUCKING <3)

i'll be seeing you by @puffanities (a quick 1.6k oneshot but still packed with some really great characterization and powerful language!! 'when the numbers of planes don’t match...')

i'll find you before the dust settles by butidontreallycare (a Westworld AU!! super cool)

in our bedroom after the war by @stereobone (one of those fics that's just like. a pillar of the community, y'know? iconic. classic. eternal.)

Into the Unknown by Melanie_Mikaelson (big win for john whump enjoyers. BIG win. like 20+ chapters of winning)

it ain't for meatball by @meyerlansky (Curt/Bucky. Curt puts the dog collar on Bucky....and it's HOTTTT arf arf i'm barking just like bucky is in this fic...)

It's Not Love, but It's Fun by @sweaterkittensahoy (Curt/Bucky, 500 words so it's short and sweet just like Curt ahahahaha, ANYWAY still such an interesting little read regardless!)

judgment by the hounds by @puffanities (PG, very visceral and tender apology after the stalag fight scene <3)

level-off maneuvers by wormringers (sweet little oneshot of the Bucks in London)

little fix by ForASecondThereWedWon (Algeria <3 <3 you just kNOW those two gay pilots were sniffing and huffing and licking each other's sweat.....this author GETS it)

love means nothing (in tennis) by @irregularcollapse (fics that make you go WEEEEEEEE!!!! every word, every physical action that these characters take is SO precise and well-written. truly like wrapping a soft bathrobe around yourself and also the bathrobe is incredibly sexy and also they're sucking each other off post-game but PRE-shower. also gale's dad!! also margie!! truly such a well crafted AU)

make you feel alive by @sig-nifier (really sweet little oneshot of gale being a little protective of john. and i am ALWAYS a sucker for the 'call off your dog' trope... and it's done perfectly here!)

meet me at the chapel by @swifty-fox (still in-progress and SUCH a creative, inventive universe!! outlaw john you will always be famous to me!!!!)

my kingdom for a kiss upon your shoulder by @swifty-fox (swift can really weave a story like no one else. so many lines that pack a punch. and in the end, they make it <3)

my type by @spaceshipkat (this one is SOOOOO well-written, I always go so crazy for the dialogue!!! such a great push-pull dynamic in this fic)

night terror by @antiquitea (hot! and sweet! and HOT! and angsty!!!!! highlights include: gale gives john a literal countdown deadline to get off)

Obligate Mutualism by bowhuntress (Gale-centric story of trying to get John through the stalag, then returning the England without Bucky, a fic very obviously written with a lot of care and love)

obsessions, and other things by @sig-nifier (the Bucks cope. really great pacing and dialogue, and I always love when fics take the care to delve into john's struggle with alcoholism as well)

of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world (he walks into mine) by @whitetrashjj (really fun parallel universe where Buck owns a bar, just a great read all-around!)

Oh, I do, do I? by @defnotanarc (DIRTY TALK, like the most delicious, incredible dirty talk you can imagine, this fic nails it!!)

One of your Girls by @soliloquy-dawn (9k oneshot and it's great all the way through, Gale is jealousssss of John fucking around, don't worry they resolve it <3, definitely captures that innocence of pre-Bremen MOTA episodes)

peacetime like a liminal space by @spaceshipkat (this one is PHENOMENAL. post-war, John goes to New York City and turns out it doesn't fill the emptiness. luckily Gale shows up. <3)

Putting Words to It by @impalachick (YEAH THIS ONE IS REALLY HOT. John is a snoop and reads Gale's letters to Marge <3)

Reunited by Flowersandthings (PG, cute & funny oneshot of the Bucks being reunited after Gale makes it over from Greenland!)

Reverie by @avonne-writes (REALLY creative, well-crafted story. Gale and John are soulmates and can visit each other's dreams since adolescence. INCREDIBLE journey and arc in this story, the stalag part is just wow. truly such a gift to the fandom!!).

Rugire by Anonymous (umm omegaverse-ish but with deer dynamics. messy. and SO good.)

SHOTGUN. by pornogirl (YEAH this one is awesome, it's not safe it's not sane but oh boy it is consensual)

Song of Songs by @swifty-fox (sweaty sex sweaty sex sweaty sex)

Spin, Sit, Roll-Over by @glumbabie (Gale is a little mean to John and it's VERY sexy of him tbh. 'DOGS DON'T TALK'???? 'YOU CAN EAT'???????? yeah. read this.)

the chimneys hardly ever fall down by @redbelles (another Gale/Marge + John, and it's HOT. it's SEXY it's awesome!!)

the hand of a good man by @stereobone (John rewrites Gale's daddy history <3)

the jacket by @dogmetaphors (REALLY great sense of dialogue and characterization even in 1.6k words, also shamelessly horny and SO yummy)

The Major’s Wife by tryingmyhandatwriting (John/Original Female Character but like. give this one a chance, I'm telling you!! I'm always soooo compelled by sex scenes that like. are actually a little bit unhappy. and this one SERVESSSSS.)

this must be the place by @blixabargelds (BIG win for Gale whumpers. broken bone and LOTS of blood and super well-written)

To be alone with you by Damn_Illusive (THIS ONE IS SO, SO SPECIAL AND CREATIVE!! freaky army experimentation gives gale and john telepathic communication. incredible separation arc while gale is in the stalag. really, really unique story that is such a staple in my mind as one of the the most incredible clegan stories ever. I think about this one A LOT!!!)

To the Moon and Back by @rambleonwaywardson (iconic astronaut AU, written with SUCH care and love, it's so obvious!! and BIG win for john whumpers. who said that -)

Tough And Sweet (Like You And Me) by @johnslittlespoon (sooo fun and creative and inventive, Bikeriders-esque!Gale and a sweeter, more innocent John. really well crafted)

trading paper dolls by ForASecondThereWedWon (Alex draws Gale pinup girl style in the stalag.....John swipes it.... super great fic!)

two slow dancers by everywordnotsaid (unrequited love, John for Gale, through their journey. I genuinely, actually sobbed for a long time at the conclusion of this fic. I am always thinking about this fic. I think it really captures something about the experience of watching the show and realizing in that hopeless, lovesick kind of way that there's no way to go back in time and save all of them. I still get teary whenever I think about this story or hear the song. It's one of those fics that's not just good, not just great, but somehow also really fucking IMPORTANT. this story MATTERS. you should absolutely read it and save it and imprint it onto your heart. I know it's imprinted onto mine.)

Un Chant d’Amour by @counting0nit (really intriguing take on the interrogation center time frame!)

unicorns, and other extinct animals by @spaceshipkat (really, really incredible reading experience. something that actually touches other aspects of my life, even now. I see planes overhead and I think about this fic. I see letters on a table and I think about this fic. just. this author GETS IT, you know? just absolutely nails every aspect of this kind of fic: post-war adjustment, the pain, the LOVE. this fic will make you FEEL it. let it happen.)

Up In Our Bedroom by @steeseman (ICONIC. really one of those pillars of the community type fics, y'know? it's funny and it's sweet and it's painful and the hot parts are HOT. clearly written with SO much care, and SO much love, and SO much precision. every single word packs a punch. absolutely one of my top reads of all time, across time, across fandoms)

When the bones are good by @aramblingjay (a really incredible post-war fic, such a beautiful, rich writing style!! isn't afraid to dig at the hard parts - john's relationship with alcohol, their nightmares from the war. stunning visuals -- the author uses setting and place and motion in such a tangible, real way. I can still see the little hideout spot in my mind's eye, even now. one of those fics that's just. such a treasure to the fandom.)

your dreams, whatever they be by @drylite (this one is super new, and it's just SUCH solid writing!)

You're A Dog (I'm Your Man) by @johnslittlespoon (one of those fics that's a pillar of the fandom for SURE!!! definitely a classic)

[winterrrnight]

new beginnings

navigation

pairing: stepdad!soft!rafe x mom!reader

detailed summary: You weren’t living such a great life. Your husband had turned his back towards you and was drowned in his addiction to drugs, not giving any mind to what’s happening in the world around him. You knew you couldn’t stay with him, and let him continue ruining your life. So at the next moment you get, you free yourself from him and get a divorce, finally having a chance to breathe.

You were now alone with your toddler, and you knew you had to give her a life which seems perfect even without her father. She became your best friend, your whole world, your favorite person ever. Sage was a spitting image of you, a little enthusiastic kid but very clear at heart.

As much as you tried, you always felt the lack of another parent in Sage’s life. Even though she never showed it, a big smile always on her face as she was always playing around your house, you knew it was best she had two loving parents. But you were so busy with your job, and taking care of her, you never had a chance to go out on your own.

But then, almost like a hurricane, Rafe Cameron walked into your life. He occupied your mind like nothing else, and as you saw Sage loving his company more and more, you fell more for him, and he was very lovingly married into your family.

You never knew love can come knocking down your door at such odd times, when you had your child and no one seemed to take interest in you. But Rafe did. He loved you both with his entire heart, and changed your entire perspective on love.

This is the story of finding comfort and love when it seems the world has stopped spinning, when you feel you’re worthless, and you start to limit your own experiences. It’s about letting your door open for someone at a stage in life when it’s all too risky. It’s about trust, and letting yourself free from the chains you’ve so hurtfully wound yourself in.

SERIES CHAPTERS:

and so we meet - chapter 1

here we are again - chapter 2

familiar yet unrecognizable faces - chapter 3

the blue in your eyes - chapter 4

ONESHOTS:

BLURBS:

CONCEPTS:

HEADCANONS:

content warnings: as this is a wip, there isn't much to tell. but, I can assure it won't have any NSFW content in it, or any other dark themes. it may bring up drug addiction, but appropriate warnings will always specified at the start of each part so you can avoid what you don't want to read!

update: the series is now also being posted on wattpad! check it out here and follow me at _starkeyfilms if you feel like! <3

taglist: @runningfrom2am @saccharinesammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff @wallsdreams @tahliac11 @sadfury @newsies-pape-girl @jamesbuckybarneswify @xxxlaura @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @callsignwidow @starkowswife @rafeinterlude @rylie-m @zulema222 @karmasloverrr @leixwhite02 @congratsloserr @rubixgsworld @dilvcv @fandom-life-12 @drewstarkeyswifehoe @jjchaer @f4ll-for-you @fishingirl12 @wearemadeofstardust0 @drewsmusee @stvrligghtt @rafegirly @leighbronk @addriaenne @rafesdrew @bejeweledreverie @crgirlsworld @valenftcrush @lillywildly @julovesurmom @raf3sgff @drewstarkey1bae @aerangi @moneymaybank @spideysimpossiblegirl @the-tortured-poets-depxrtment @mellyie

please let me know if you would like to be added or removed!

edith speaks: oh my god! this idea is absolutely thriving in my docs and I knew it had to be so much more than just a fic so here it is!! I hope you all really enjoy reading this :) please keep on interacting with me through my asks, discussing headcanons about the fic, and any little thoughts you may have! it's my absolute favourite thing ever to talk about fics <3 you can always talk to me as an anon (I accept anon emojis!) or just as you want! 🤍

[thefreakandthehair]

Spicy Six -Ber Month Fanworks Challenge

It's that time again! I'm so excited to host the Third Annual Spicy Six Fanworks Challenge, with a twist this year! Rather than winter-specific prompts, we have a mix of both fall and winter prompts. With all of the fun October events happening, this felt like the best way to capture both seasons. The past couple of years hosting the seasonal challenges has been such a blast, and I can't wait to see what people come up with this time around!

Here are the rules: 

It's a Spicy Six challenge so of course, you must include someone from the Spicy Six (Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, Eddie, Steve, Argyle). Don't feel pressured to include everyone, of course. You can be ship-specific or general. Chrissy is also included! (I know that makes seven– I just don't want to change the title, honestly.)

There are two links below, one for dialogue prompts and one for more general prompts. There will be a claims process, but I've decided to make it easier for everyone (myself included) and will not be limiting how many people can claim the same prompt this year. In years past, it's led to a lot of back and forth trying to choose second options, third options, etc. and there's more than enough creativity in this fandom for people to make vastly different interpretations of the same prompt!

To claim a prompt, simply shoot me a DM with which prompt you'd like from what list (i.e.: prompt 6 from dialogue prompts'). Since I'm not limiting prompts, don't worry if I don't get right back to you!

One prompt per person. You're welcome to use as many as you like, but you can only claim one.

No restrictions for fanart, and no word count minimum or maximum for fics. Long fics, ficlets, drabbles, all are welcome.

Posting will run from November 15th through December 31st. Additional posting details here!

When you post, please use the tag spicysixbermonthchallenge and tag me so I can see and reblog it!

Please feel free to reblog to spread and signal boost.

Dialogue Prompts Here Inspiration Prompts Here

tagging some peeps who've been along for the ride before/expressed interest & some writing/art pals (this is open to everyone!! not just those tagged!): @starrystevie @hexiewrites @stevespookington @withacapitalp @maxinemaxmayfield

@maxineholtzmann @stevethehairington @just-my-latest-hyperfixation @formosusiniquis @sourw0lfs

@steddieas-shegoes @steddieasitgoes @judasofsuburbia @kkpwnall @thisapplepielife

@werepuppy-steve @medusapelagia @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe @starthecozy @sidekick-hero

@shares-a-vest @steddie-island @acasualcrossfade @hbyrde36 @ao3usermelancholyhues

@cuips-not-cute @arelliann @stervrucht @griefabyss69 @kaspurrcat

@sparkle-fiend @ahhrenata @nostalgicbones @henderdads @undreaming-fanfiction

@riality-check @wynnyfryd @aidaronan @stevesbipanic @hereforanepilogue

[scuttling]

Flicker in the Dark - Jacob Black/Reader

Fandom: Twilight Saga Pairings: Jacob Black/Female Reader Word Count: 12,598 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Pining, Unprotected sex, Slightly aged up (Jacob is 20), Fix it fic Summary: My take on New Moon, if all of the characters were a bit more mature and Jacob got his girl. A/N: This is a third-person story that pairs Jacob with a girl who isn't Bella but who fills her role in the story; Bella doesn't exist in this universe because I find she's not as interesting to write as an original character, for me personally. The character has no name and no physical description, so treat her as an OC or a "reader," your choice there. :)

Keep reading below or link to AO3!

Bringing the idea of fixing the bikes to Jacob was the best thing she’s ever done: the best, and one of the dumbest, by far. 

They both have adult obligations now—she has class, and a part-time job, which are thankfully both online, and Jake works full time—so when the stars align and they’re free at the same time, they spend every moment in his garage like a couple of bored kids. They listen to music on his dad’s old radio, eat pizza and tacos standing up much more often than they should; Jacob isn’t twenty-one just yet, but they’re on the rez, so they sip beers sometimes, especially on the rare warm days where the sun shines into the garage and sweat prickles at their hairlines. 

He’s taller at twenty than he was when he was younger, broader and more filled out, like he’d said back on her birthday; she notices, sometimes, things like the tightness of his t-shirts stretched across his back, the way his jeans fit just, extraordinarily well. Those kinds of things you can’t help but notice, even if you’re emotionally, physically, and mentally unavailable, the way she is. 

He pokes fun at her age—forever a sore spot, especially when Edward is and will be twenty-two forever—but she catches him noticing her, too, sometimes, so she’s not a total embarrassment at least.

It doesn’t happen right away, like magic or anything, but hanging out in his garage does make her feel better; he makes her feel better, if she’s being honest with herself. He quiets the chatter in her brain, the anxiety, the self-doubt, and she smiles more when she’s with him, laughs more, gets out of her own head. She’s happier when she’s with him, too, bikes or no bikes—though the roar of the restored motorcycle engine certainly doesn’t hurt—and he’s good for her, there’s no denying that.

She remembers her dad’s advice, even more meaningful now that she’s moved out of his house and living on her own—sometimes, you gotta learn to love what’s good for you—and she even thinks she could, some days. 

That’s easy enough to say to herself, but so, so much harder in practice. She can tell Jacob is… interested, when they go to the movies, with the way he lays his hand on the armrest, palm up, in case she wants to hold it. Part of her wants to, really wants to; part just thinks about Edward and she clams up, can’t do it. She feels guilty, like she’s doing something wrong, even though he left her and not the other way around. 

She still loves him, will always love him, but Edward made his choice; she just wishes she felt free enough to make her own.

She feels guilty when they ride, too, because the one thing he’d asked of her was not to be reckless, and now she goes out of her way to find a rush wherever she can. Anything legal, be it motorcycles, rock climbing, running, skydiving, really, really big roller coasters—you name it, she’s done it, and though none of it ever worked as well as she’d hoped it would, she never stops trying. 

She knows better than to give herself over to things like drugs or binge drinking or meaningless one-night stands, but aside from that the limits to what she will try are almost non-existent. She loves the thrill of it all, loves feeling brave, feeling strong; In the end, she may wind up with a few cuts and bruises, but as long as she’s hurting no one but herself, she doesn’t feel too bad.

When she hurts Jacob, she feels awful, terrible, and she does hurt him—he’s so hurt for a while that he doesn’t want to see her, doesn’t even return her calls. She feels weak for the first time in a long time, like if she’d just been able to be what he wanted, to hold his hand, to kiss him, to get over herself, they both would have been happier. Now she just feels sad, and selfish, hurting the one person who has always been there for her, who’s always eased her pain.

She wants to respect his space, can’t bear the thought of hurting him more than she already has, but her anxiety gets the better of her; no amount of kickboxing or rock climbing has been able to take her mind off of him since that night at the movies, when he left in such a hurry. Even Edward has shifted to the back of her mind, though she has no idea when exactly that happened.

So she goes to him. Against his wishes. In the pouring rain. 

She’s so, so stupid.

He’s so, so shredded, even more so than usual; it’s the first thing she notices only because he’s soaking wet and shirtless and that makes it pretty obvious. The second thing she notices is his hair, no longer long and pulled back with a cord of leather, but cropped short, though inky black as always. The third thing she notices is the tattoo, a large, tribal design on his shoulder that looks well-healed even though she saw him less than a week ago.

She catalogs all of that, and then she remembers he’s avoiding her and that she’s here to ask for forgiveness (she’s willing to beg, but it’s sort of a last resort.)

She calls his name, but he doesn’t turn around at first, not until she’s right in front of him, fists balled angrily at her sides.  

“Jacob, I’m sorry… I’m sorry about the movie. Can we talk about it?” He huffs an unamused laugh, takes half a step closer; that kind of thing used to be playful, but now it seems almost menacing, between the muscles and the tattoo and the deepening frown on his face. 

“This isn’t about that. You–you need to leave. Now.” The tone of his voice leaves no room for argument… but then again, that’s never stopped her before. She steps closer too, more of a challenge than anything.

“Well if it’s not about that, what is it? What happened?” He turns away as if to leave and she reaches for him, fingers latching onto his wrist. She knows right away that when she tugs, and he turns, it’s because he let it happen; there’s no way anyone could force him to do anything now, not with how big he is, how strong, how solid beneath her hand. “Is it Sam? Did he get to you too?” 

“I was wrong about Sam. He’s helping me through it—just like he helped the others,” he says, but it sounds odd to her ears. If something was wrong, if he’d needed help, he would have come to her… right? “I can’t do this right now—you have to go. Please go.” 

Before, he was stern, but this time he’s pleading for her to leave, and that’s just not Jacob—they’d hash it out before he cut her off without so much as a word, instead of ghosting her and making his father lie for him and keeping secrets with Sam Uley.

“Jake,” she pleads too, but instead of tightening her grip on his wrist she brings her hand up to the nape of his neck, to brush through the short hair that lays there, drenched in rainwater. “Please don’t do this to me.” 

He closes his eyes like it pains him, and it very well might; she knows the similarities to the night Edward left are becoming almost too much for her to bear. 

Maybe that’s why she came here, after all, because she could, because at least she still knew where she could find him. Because even if he didn’t want to talk to her, at least she’d know he was okay. 

“I’m not doing this to you, I’m doing it for you. I’m not who you thought I was, I’m not good for you. You can’t be around me anymore.” 

Fuck that, she thinks immediately, because she is so absolutely tired of people telling her what she can and can’t do, what she’s strong enough for, what’s safe. 

She doesn’t want safe. All she wants is Jacob. 

“I decide what’s good for me; I decide,” she says, voice raised and rough, jabbing a finger in his direction, and he grabs both of her forearms and holds them between them. He looks like he wants to shake her, he’s so frustrated, but his grip isn’t tight. “You think you’re going to hurt me, or something? Because look at us, Jake.” Her gaze moves to his hands on her, holding her still but doing it gently, carefully. “It’s okay. You won’t hurt me, I know it.” 

He drops her arms like she’s burned him, like he didn’t even realize he was holding them, and takes two steps back, away from her.

“You’re right, I won’t—because you can’t ever come here again.” 

He turns and runs to Sam and the other guys, leaving her standing in the rain, soaked and alone, her stomach in knots. The chatter is back, the self-doubt, louder than ever now; if they could both do this, both leave her so easily, would she ever be enough for anyone?

She’s not sitting around her house moping about this, not again. She did that with Edward and it got her absolutely nowhere, so this time she resolves to just skip to the front of the line. She packs a bag for the trail and goes hiking, plans to take a long path deep into the woods, away from the bear attacks or whatever’s going on out there. Her dad would have her head if she walked headfirst into danger, and she knows better, anyway, isn’t going to actually risk her life just to get Rocky Mountain high. 

She hadn’t planned on risking her life, anyway, but how was she to know the formerly peaceful Laurent was back in Forks, red eyes and all, and that he was working with Victoria? That wasn’t on her supernatural drama bingo card, that’s for damn sure. 

She listens to him do the villain rambling for a moment, but irritation wins out over fear and she loses her temper, slips up and says that Edward is gone and he’s not coming back, and if he wants to kill her, well no one’s stopping him! 

He looks amused by her outburst, but the smile melts off of his face when an enormous black wolf steps out of the trees, followed by several others of all shades, shapes, sizes. She doesn’t get a chance to count them, just runs like hell in the other direction, but when she risks a look back they are going after Laurent with a precision she wouldn’t expect from wild animals just looking for dinner. 

She tells no one about the wolves—who would believe her anyway?—just runs back to her truck until she’s breathless, goes home and takes a steaming hot shower to rinse away the cold clamminess of his touch. She makes a cup of tea and changes into a t-shirt, a pair of shorts, then parks herself on the couch with her laptop for the rest of the night. 

Until the knock at the door that comes around 1 AM. 

It’s Jacob, and she’s so happy to see him that she forgets all about her day up until that point and wraps her arms around him, hugs him where he stands in the doorway. He hugs back, thank god, his embrace tight and warm and comforting, and then she ushers him in, offers to make more tea while they talk. 

“About the other day,” she begins, filling the electric kettle with water and plugging it in, but he cuts her off, panicked. 

“I wish I could explain,” he says, and he’s almost got those puppy dog eyes that always get him his way; he doesn’t even do it on purpose, just looks like that, and it’s incredibly hard to resist. “But I literally can’t.” 

“No, I know, I… I mean, I think I know.” She has a box of tea in her hand and she’s gesturing a bit wildly with it, so she sets it on the counter, walks closer to him, so there’s about a foot of space between them. “First rule of fight club is you can’t talk about fight club—wait, it’s not an actual fight club, right? Because you’d dominate.” 

He laughs, a real one, with his head thrown back, and she all but grins. There he is. Her Jacob. 

“No, it’s not a fight club, but you’re right. I can’t talk about it, I can’t tell you anything.” His tone of voice hurts her, because it’s clear this is something he wants, needs to share; she moves closer, eyes on his.

“And what if I guess? Is that against the rules?” He shakes his head fervently, rests his palm on the counter beside him.

“No, no—in fact, that’s exactly what I need you to do. Sam can’t stop you, and I know you, you’re smart, won’t stop until you figure it out.”  He reaches out with his other hand, tentatively, and links their fingers together like he did at the movies; when he brings their hands up to his chest, this time, she doesn’t pull away. “It would be so much easier if you knew.”

His face is so soft but so serious, his brow furrowed, and she squeezes his hand.

“I’m going to feel really silly if I’m wrong, but I don’t think I am. I’ve been working on it all night.” With her free hand, she pulls her phone out of her pocket, shows him the same screen she has up on her laptop in the other room. It’s a list of all the facts she has, her own speculation, and finally, in size 42 font, one very important eight-letter word. “You said before that Sam was collecting disciples—a pack of them, Jacob, right?” 

“Yes. Fuck,” he breathes, and though she’s heard him say it in the garage many times, this one is special because it means she’s right. He slides down to a seat on the tile floor, looks so relieved it makes her chest feel tight, and she kneels in front of him, hands on his bare shoulders. 

“You’re a werewolf, Jake, just like the legend—your tribe is descended from wolves. Tell me I’m wrong.” 

He doesn’t say a word, and at first she’s afraid she is incorrect, but then he reaches out and pulls her close, crushes her to his body. He breathes hard into her hair, holds her tightly, and she can’t help it, she cries, hot tears leaving tracks down her cheeks.

He brings his hands there after a moment, wipes the tears away with his thumbs, then holds her face like she’s something precious, lips turning up into a half-smile.

“Thank you. I knew you could do it.” He tips forward, presses their foreheads together, moves his hands to her waist. “You don’t know how badly I wanted you to know.”

“Oh, Jake. I’m sorry—I should have caught on faster. It’s obvious, when you put everything together, when you… You know. When you’ve seen what I’ve seen.” He nods his head and swallows, presses his fingertips into her side. She shifts closer, or he does, maybe they both do, so their breath mixes between them, soft and warm.

“It’s okay, you’re here now. You’re here, it's okay,” he repeats, and she pushes fingers through his hair, softer now that it’s dry. 

“I’m here, and I don’t have to stay away.”

They don’t quite kiss, because she’s still nervous, maybe even more so now—they were so close to being separated, and now that he’s back in her life, in her house, she doesn’t want to risk breaking this delicate, fragile thing between them. His mouth just brushes over hers, more a swipe than a press of lips, and she turns her head so the rest of it catches her cheek instead. 

He sighs, but he’s not upset, and he lifts a hand to smooth through her hair before dropping it altogether. 

“I should go,” he says, but she can’t bear the thought of losing him again already. She stands when he does, takes his hand the way he did before. 

“Can you stay the night? Please?” She squeezes his fingers, tries her hand at her own version of those sad puppy eyes. “I understand if you can’t, but I’d feel… I want you to,” she’s clear to say, and eventually, he nods. 

She makes up a bed for him on the sofa, intends to head upstairs when he’s comfortable; she doesn’t know what stops her, but she stretches out on the other end of the couch instead and they put on a movie, something black and white, volume low. She couldn’t say for sure who’s the first to fall asleep.

She’s the first to wake up, so she takes a quick shower, does some work, brews some coffee. He’ll probably head out the moment his feet hit the floor, so she prepares herself for that—she just hopes that the rest of his pack knows he’s there, that they aren’t worried, or frantically searching the preserve for signs of him like she would be. 

She asks him that when he pads into the kitchen an hour later, eyes sleepy, bedhead evident, and he pours a cup of coffee and sits across from her at the table. 

“Nah, they knew I was coming,” he assures with a sip. “They know by now that if they can’t find me, I’m probably here with you.” That makes her smile, though she looks down into her mug and tries not to show it. He takes a few more quick gulps despite the temperature and sets down his empty cup with a smack of his lips. “Speaking of the pack, I think you should meet them. We gather at Emily’s—that’s Sam’s fiancee—sometimes, and they’ll be there today.”

“Will they be angry that I figured it out?” she asks, genuinely curious. She wants to meet them, wants to know more about the group of guys Jacob is now supernaturally entangled with, but she’s not so sure a house of angry werewolves is somewhere she’s ready to be so soon after her last brush with death. He breathes a laugh and shakes his head. 

“They won’t be angry. They’ll probably be irritated with me, because I couldn’t just let you go…” Their eyes meet, and she thinks of reaching out to touch his hand across the table, though she doesn’t in the end. “But as for you, they’ll probably just be impressed.”

The pack is both impressed by her and slightly irritated with Jacob, but stern glances and eye rolls quickly turn to laughter and playful shoving, as they pile into Emily’s small but cozy kitchen and make introductions around a batch of fresh muffins.

She gets official confirmation on things she’d only read about—like their ability to hear each other’s thoughts when shifted, the accelerated healing, their speed, their power—right from the wolves' mouths, and they learn from her too, everything she knows about vampires like Laurent and Victoria. She doesn’t talk much about the Cullens, mostly because their secrets are not hers to tell, but she can see Jacob’s brain working as she mentions Victoria’s vendetta, as she shows the group the pale, silvery bite mark on her arm. 

“If she’s here, she’s here for me,” she tells them, and Jake tenses, his jaw tight, veins visible, shoots Sam a look that conveys they have a lot to talk about when she’s not around. 

Later, she suggests to Jacob that he take a walk with her, because she can tell how all of those stories have put him on edge. Together they amble slowly toward the beach, close but not touching, and this time she does take his hand, leans in so their forearms brush. 

“It’ll be okay,” she murmurs, tilting her head to look up at him. “You guys are strong, fast. You took down Laurent—I have no doubts you’ll get her too.” 

“Before she hurts you?” he says, staring ahead, voice rough because he’s been mostly silent all day, listening closely to her and taking everything in. “Because if she does…” 

“She won’t. The others are watching her,” she says, hoping like hell that’s still true, “and even if she finds me… I trust you to protect me.” He stops there, on the wet sand, and she turns toward him so she can see his expression, to get a better idea of what’s on his mind. 

“If they come back, I’m not allowed to fight on their land—I’d be breaking the treaty,” he says with a pained look. She understands the words he’s not saying: if they come back, I wouldn’t be able to protect you in your own home.

“They’re not coming back,” she whispers, because she can’t say the words any louder than that, even though they’re true.  “He made his choice, and that’s—that’s okay.” 

“Is it?” Jacob asks, leaning in, and she gets it, gets why; she hasn’t exactly been positive about Edward’s departure, how his choice affected her, took his family away from her too, and now suddenly she’s okay with it?

It isn’t sudden, though, not really. It’s been a gradual acceptance, something she’s been coming to terms with since the day he left. She knows Edward’s decision wasn’t made easily; she knows he didn’t leave because he didn’t love her, but because he loved her so much he put aside his feelings for her and did what he thought was right. 

He went about it all the wrong way, removing every trace of himself from her life, banning his family from communicating with her, taking her choices away, but in the end his heart was in the right place, and she’s found a way to respect that, despite everything. 

Maybe it’s just Jacob. He brought her out of her post-breakup shell, made her smile again, laugh again, feel important and wanted and cared for. Maybe he filled in the cracks of her broken heart so she could use it again, without the need for exhilaration and adrenaline to cover up the pain of what she’s lost; maybe it’s just Jacob, bright like the sun they so seldom see, special and rare and wild. 

“It’s okay,” she assures him, voice steady with her conviction. She raises their conjoined hands and presses her lips to his knuckles, just briefly, before dropping them back to her side. 

Jake nods, accepts her answer, and they walk further along the beach until the sun goes down in a hazy blend of blue and orange and red.

He offers to drive her home, and even though it’s impractical, and she’d usually put up a fight, she wants that extra time with him. Wants to be that close to him. She sits in the middle of the bench seat, neither up against him nor really on the passenger’s side, but close enough for Jake to throw an arm across her shoulders, and they listen to the radio and talk about his pack while cruising down the road. 

“I better go,” he murmurs before she can even unlock her front door, and she tries not to let her face fall; she’d been hoping he’d stay over again, or come inside for a little bit, at least. 

She must fail at controlling her expression, because Jacob smiles softly, like he’s pleased with himself, and leans in, brushing his fingers over the line of her jaw. 

“We’re patrolling tonight—got a vampire to kill. But I’ll call you tomorrow?” 

She nods beneath his touch, and he pulls back and turns to leave, jogging down the street and toward the forest that’ll lead him back to La Push.

He does call the next day, but it’s brief; Victoria’s back, just as Sam expected, so they’re running all night, all day, trying to catch her off guard, taking breaks only to eat and sleep when they absolutely have to. Jacob promises to check in when he can, but after three days with no contact—and a voicemail from her father about locals spotting wolves in the woods—she’s on edge again, less concerned for her own safety, more worried about Jake’s. 

She’s an absolute idiot for doing it—going to the beach, to the tall cliffs that loom over it—but she needs the rush again, doesn’t feel right when it’s just her own troubled voice in her head. She needs to hear the purr of an engine, the hum of a plane, the crashing of pure, white water against rocks… or maybe Jacob’s heartbeat. But the cliffs are the simple option at the moment, and all she can think about until she’s actually there, looking out over the ocean, the gritty scents of sand and salt in her nose. 

She takes several deep, long breaths. That’s the key to these things that bring her so much excitement—using all of her senses, so she’s not just herself but everything around her too. She needs to see the sun on the horizon, taste the spray of seawater and clean, crisp air. She needs to smell the damp earth, touch the frothy bubbles that lap at the shore, hear…

She hears a wolf, actually, howling solemnly in the distance, but doesn’t register the sound until after she’s already jumped. 

The waves are choppier than they’d appeared when she was looking down at them, and it knocks the breath out of her lungs when they crash into her body, pulling her down into the dark vastness of the icy sea. Her arms and legs move instinctively, fighting to bring her back to the surface, but the water is deep and heavy and she’s already so tired of trying. 

She’s so cold all she can feel is cold, her teeth chattering, so even when she hits her head on a boulder and it starts to bleed, she doesn’t realize what’s happened until everything turns black.

She’s warmer, suddenly, that’s all she knows, though the ground beneath her back is rocky and wet, uncomfortable. She thinks maybe it’s a blanket that feels so warm, but quickly realizes it’s Jacob above her, soaked to his bones, a sigh of relief passing his lips. 

“Oh thank god. Can you hear me?” He cradles the back of her head in his palm and helps her sit up, then presses his fingers tenderly to the sore bump beneath her hair. “Your head’s not that bad, but I bet it hurts.” 

“Hmm. Hurts,” she mumbles, her throat raw, temples throbbing. She’s cold and tired and thirsty, but ashamed above all else; maybe she really does need someone making the decisions for her, if this is the kind of stupidity she gets up to when she’s alone. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” he answers quickly, and he runs his hands over her arms and legs, her neck, her face, checking for further injury. “I’m just glad you’re alright. The waves are bad today; you could have been swept away.” 

“I didn’t realize that until it was too late,” she admits sheepishly, and when he brings her closer she rests her cheek against his chest, feels tears stinging her already tired eyes. “I’m sorry, Jacob.” 

“It’s okay, I’m here. It’s okay.” His voice is as soft as his hands as they curve around her, holding her against him, and they sit like that for a couple minutes, until Sam runs over and tells him to get her home. 

He drives again, but this time she’s even more grateful, because there’s no way she could have done it herself. She feels so much at once—dumb and scared and childish, but also brave and calm, while somehow her mind races with thoughts of the wolves howling and Jacob’s hands in her hair. Her focus is shot, and even though she’s wrapped in one of Jake’s thick, fleece lined hoodies, she trembles, heavy and cold, as she peers out the passenger side window, watching the trees go by.

“Hundred and eight degrees over here,” Jacob says eventually, with a half smile, and she blinks for a moment before giving in; with a sigh, she scoots closer, wraps an arm around his waist. She can feel the heat of his body even through the layers they wear, and she shivers involuntarily at the pleasant but abrupt change in temperature.

“You still want me this close? Not afraid the bad decisions will rub off onto you?” It’s a joke, a self-deprecating one, and an apology all bundled together. “What I did was stupid, I know. I could have gotten really hurt, and you should have been out there with the pack, with Harry, not saving me.” 

He tilts his head, leans closer so his cheek rests against her hair.

“Well it wasn’t smart, but we all have our moments. And you couldn’t have known about Harry—don’t be too hard on yourself.” A long beat of silence passes, and she turns toward him, pressing her icy nose to his neck with another sigh.

“Mmm. You’re so warm. It must be nice, never getting cold.” 

“It’s a wolf thing,” he says with a shrug, but it’s not, not really, and she can’t let that stand. 

“Maybe, but trust me, it’s a Jacob thing too. You’ve always been warm.” She just sits there, breathes him in, lets him warm her hands and nose, so content she almost doesn’t notice when he pulls up in front of her house.

“This is better. Now that you know about me,” he says, tipping his face down, after he turns off the truck. She pulls back just enough to look into his eyes, to try to gauge his intent.

“But?” He swallows hard, looks away for a moment before returning to her face.

“You saw what happened to Emily. Sam got angry, lost it for a split second, and Em was standing too close. He’ll never be able to take that back.” He shakes his head, as if imagining the two of them in the same situation. What he could do to her. What she would think of him. “What if I get mad and I hurt you?” 

“You’re new to this—even if you are a natural,” she says, remembering a comment Embry had made when they’d last spoken. “You’ll learn how to control it, how to read the warning signs, and you’ll either stop yourself from turning or get somewhere safe. We’ll be okay,” she promises, resting her hand soothingly against his neck, and he sighs softly.

“Sometimes, I feel like I’m gonna disappear. Like one day it will be all wolf and no Jake.” He leans in, close enough that their noses just barely brush, and the way he looks down at her is something like… 

Yearning, she thinks to herself after a beat. It’s a powerful emotion, but she’s never seen it look quite so beautiful before. 

“You’re not going to lose yourself. I won’t let that happen.” 

“How?” he asks, bringing a hand up to cover hers, and she wets her lips, shakes her head to clear it; it’s swimming again, in this small space, so very close to him—especially when he’s looking at her like that.

“I’ll tell you all the time… how special you are to me.” She looks up, feels like she’s showing her soul to him, like this incident has stripped her down to bare bones and she’s letting him see her, once and for all. He stares into her eyes for a long moment, then leans in slowly, tentatively, and this time she doesn’t stop herself from meeting him in the middle, from pressing her mouth to his. 

She can actually feel the relief wash over him when she doesn’t reject his kiss, like he’s been tightly coiled and tense and can finally relax because she wants the same things, feels the same way.

She expects his lips to be warm, soft, but he is scorching against her skin, even more so when he moves his hand to her cheek in a gentle caress. With the palm against his hip, she pushes up his t-shirt, gets her fingers on his body, and they both gasp softly into the kiss, deepen it. 

“Jacob,” she sighs when they part for air; he seems okay, if a little shaky, but she feels flushed, eager, almost vibrating with the need to keep kissing him. She wants more, even though her throat burns like the last time his lips touched hers, when he forced the water out of her lungs and saved her life. 

That’s what he does best, her Jacob—like a flicker in the dark, he always pulls her away from the dangers of her own making and brings her back into the light.

“Is this real?” he asks, his breath a ghost on her lips; his other hand, on her lower back, pulls her closer to his body, and she turns her head and kisses the palm resting on her cheek. 

They kiss again, hands a bit less careful, hers sliding up his back, his weaving into her hair to control the tilt of her head. She gives in to it all, lets him set the pace, gripping him like a life preserver and letting his heat warm her from the inside out. She feels like she can’t get possibly close enough, wants to be pressed skin to skin, but she settles for sliding into his lap, ducking her head so she doesn’t hit it on the metal roof of the truck. 

He groans as she twists fingers into his hair, as she pulls him into her and feels the long, hard line of his body against hers. She kisses faster, harder, and he matches her fervor, wraps an arm around her waist and catches her chin with tight fingers. 

They kiss for a long time, and the cabin heats, windows fogging up as they share breath and saliva, as they murmur each other’s names like prayer. Her lips are red and raw when she finally needs to pause, and she rests her head against his chest and listens to the thunderous, wild beating of his heart. 

“Will you stay the night? Please?” she asks, voice a little broken—rough with need, and soreness from nearly drowning, and breathlessness caused by the most intense kiss of her entire life. 

Jacob nods, and he sets her carefully back on the seat, removes the keys from the ignition and climbs out of the truck. She slides out behind him, and he closes the door, takes her hand in his just like she did on the beach.

He locks the front door behind them when they’re finally inside—as if that will stop anyone we need to worry about, she teases with a soft laugh—and she takes the lead, walks up the stairs toward her bedroom with Jacob trailing behind. 

Despite his surreal body heat and the thick, warm sweatshirt he’d given her to wear, she’s still cold down to her bones, and wet like a drowned rat, so she pulls off her shoes and socks and sets them down by the radiator. Jacob watches her every move from a couple steps away, eyes lingering as she shrugs out of his hoodie, then pulls her damp sweater over her head. 

There’s nothing sexy or seductive about it, it’s not a striptease by any means, but he doesn’t look away when she’s down to her bra, and she doesn’t want him to. He bends down to take off his boots, to line them up next to hers, then bridges the distance between them and leans in for a deep, slow kiss. 

It’s not long before they both sink down onto the bed, and her fingers slip open the button of her jeans, then hesitate, wait at the button of his. She looks up at him, and the confirmation is all but written there, in the darkness of his eyes, the swipe of his tongue over his lips, but she needs to be sure. 

“I want you, all of you,” she murmurs, and then she brushes a hand through his hair, leans in to just rest her mouth against his. It’s delicate like the first time, but full of meaning, and he presses up into her kiss. “Do you want this?” 

“I want this. You. All—all of you.” He nods, licks his lips again, eyes softer but no less hungry, and she flicks open the button and kisses him like she did in the truck: hands on his body, in his hair, her breath all his. 

They don’t part, not really, just fall back against the pillows and tug at clothing, pressing kisses to throats and palms. His t-shirt drops to the bedroom floor, then her jeans and underwear, his, and the room is quiet except for the sounds of eager, wet kisses and soft, needy moans. 

She sits up, reaches back to unclasp her bra, and Jacob drags the strap down her shoulder, helps her take it off, leaving it somewhere in the bed; his mouth moves to hers, then down her neck, over her collarbone, and finally caresses each nipple with a gentle reverence that makes her ache all over.  

“You’re still sure?” he asks when she is shaking beneath his touch, strong arms wrapped around her back, and she nods and shifts up into his lap. 

When their lips meet, the kiss is hard, and she curls an arm around his shoulders, weaving a hand into his hair. They’re both panting when she leans up, guides him inside her, and when she sinks down it’s like a flash of tingling heat takes over her entire body. 

Jacob groans, holding her securely, thrusting up as she works her thighs above him. They kiss, deep and messy, graceless but passionate, her fingers tugging, his pressing hard into her skin. 

It’s not at all how she’d expected her first time to be; she’d imagined it would be with Edward, of course, and slow, but she can’t get enough of Jacob and it seems like he can’t get enough of her either. She’d imagined a cool, pale body above her, but it’s Jacob’s deep, rich, hot skin she presses her lips to, her fingernails against. She’d expected Edward’s hard, marble arms around her, and while Jacob is strong and firm he’s still soft, skin slick with sweat as they move together. 

“Jake,” she murmurs, the taste of him on her lips, his scent in her nose, woodsy, clean. “Jacob.” Her body trembles and he holds her tighter, presses his face into her neck. 

“I’ve got you.” She sighs happily at that, grabs his hair more roughly, rides him faster. 

“You’ve got me. You’ve always got me.” 

Jacob looks up at her, eyes fiery, liquid, then pulls her in with a hand on the back of her neck and kisses her like the first time—soft, nervous, sweet. The juxtaposition of that gentle kiss and his possessive grip makes her dizzy, and when he pulls back his face is all she can see, all she wants to see, all she needs.

“I’ve always got you,” he promises, his gaze tender, unflinching. “Always.”

He’s got her when he comes, holding her tightly with one thick forearm and dragging his free hand over her breasts, then lower, to rub her clit as she bounces herself to climax in his grasp. “Oh, god,” she breathes, voice like a shiver, and her fingernails dig half-moons into his biceps as they both slow, slow, slow, then stop altogether.

He eases them both down against the bed, arms around her, their legs entwined, and they catch their breath, just look at each other until the exhaustion of the day catches up to her. Her eyes flutter closed, and pressed so close to him, so warm, all she can do is sleep.

When she wakes, it’s still mostly dark, and she desperately needs to clean up in the bathroom and get a glass of water. Jacob’s t-shirt is the first piece of clothing she sees—or the first she wants to see—and she pulls it over her head and pads to the bathroom for a human moment—a very human moment indeed. 

She pauses, while washing her hands, to look over her reflection in the mirror. Rationally, she knows nothing has really changed, but at the same time everything has. 

The bathroom water is never cold enough to drink, so she treads down the stairs, across the kitchen, turns on the tap and lets it run until the water is icy and crisp. She fills a glass, takes a couple of sips, then almost drops it when a cool hand is suddenly pressed to her shoulder. 

It’s Alice, and she uses her other hand to catch the glass before it can hit the floor and shatter. 

“Relax. It’s just me.” Her eyes are soft, and it’s clear she is happy to see her, but there’s something else in her expression, something inquisitive. “You’re alright.”

“I’m fine. I’m… good, actually.” She shrugs, which bares her shoulder, in the large t-shirt she wears, that she’d forgotten she was wearing. She freezes—she knows how she must smell to Alice, like Jacob and like… Jacob—but her friend just shakes her head. 

“I couldn’t see you; well, I saw you jump off a cliff, and then you were gone. I thought you died.” 

“Alive and well,” she says with a tone that’s hoping for lighthearted, but… 

She has no regrets about being with Jacob, not one—she just hadn’t expected to be confronted with a vampire she once considered a sister almost immediately after. She doesn’t know what to say right now, how to act. Who to be.

“I was cliff jumping, recreationally. It was fun... for a minute.” Alice rolls her eyes, but it’s clear she’s happy she’s unharmed—though perhaps irritated by her tendency toward life-threatening idiocy.

“That doesn’t explain why I couldn’t see you, why your whole future went black.” Her golden eyes stare seriously, unblinking for a moment, and then she looks away. “Though maybe I owe that to the wolf in your bed.” 

Of all the nights for Alice to come back to Forks, she thinks, a suddenly uncomfortable pit in her stomach. Then she hears footsteps on the stairs.

“Not in her bed anymore,” Jacob says, voice low, from the doorway to the kitchen; he takes half a step forward, an aborted move, like he wants to put himself in between them. 

“This is Alice, Edward’s sister. Alice, this is Jacob,” she explains, trying not to focus on his shirtless torso, or the pained expression on his face. She blows out a deep breath. “It’s okay. She won’t hurt me.” 

“She’s hurt you before,” he counters, no doubt remembering every heartbroken, aching expression she’d worn in the months prior. He takes a step closer, so he is next to her, his forearm grazing hers, and Alice takes a step back. “I’d like to stick around, if it’s all the same to you.” 

He’s posturing, that much is clear, but she can't find it in herself to be irritated, because at least he’s giving her the option, letting her choose.

“I thought you couldn’t protect me here,” she says, turning her face up to look at him, and Jacob’s response makes heat pool low in her belly, just like the night before. 

“There is nowhere in this world I won’t protect you—treaty or no treaty.” 

She wants so badly to kiss him, but Alice is there, Alice, right in front of her after all this time, and she’s conflicted. Torn. He can tell, she knows, but he doesn’t take it personally, just reaches up to scratch his head, sighs. 

“So are more of you coming? Is–is he…?” 

“I came alone. And no,” Alice replies after a moment, but she’s looking at her instead, probably knows that he’s just saying what she’s too worried to ask. “He only calls in once every few months. Says he wants to be alone.” Jacob scoffs.

“Great. He wants to be alone, so you all leave her behind, unprotected? That red headed vampire is after her because of him.” 

That gets a reaction out of Alice, whose eyes darken protectively.

“Who, Victoria? I haven’t seen her.” She stares off into the distance, like she’s searching for memories, visions, sifting through what she’s seen and trying to piece together what she hasn’t. “Just like I didn’t see you get pulled out of the water. There’s a lot I haven’t seen, apparently,” she adds under her breath, and the other girl presses her lips together, sighs. 

Not the time or place for this discussion, and they both know it, but that doesn’t mean it’s avoidable for long. 

“So you can’t see around Jacob. The wolves,” she guesses. “I’ve been with them a lot lately.”

“With him a lot lately,” Alice corrects. Jacob huffs, but it’s not untrue, so she lets her think what she wants. Her silence must speak volumes, because Alice takes a deep, wholly unnecessary breath, and gestures toward the door. “Should I go?” 

“Please don’t,” she says quickly, nearly begging. It’s the first she’s seen of Alice in almost a year and she cannot let her leave as abruptly as she’d shown up. “If you could just give us a minute…” 

“Take two,” the vampire says, and it’s with a half-smile that turns into a smirk. “I’ll go Febreze the living room while I wait: it smells like wet dog.” She turns to leave, a bounce in her step that the other girl can’t help laughing at, shaking her head. 

She sobers up when Jacob turns toward her, takes a step that moves the both of them, so her back is pressed up against the kitchen counter. He looks so serious, and her heart beats for him everywhere. 

“Do you believe her? When she says she came alone?” he asks, and she tilts her head, nods softly. 

“Of course I believe her. She just had to make sure I was okay, that’s all. There’s… there’s nothing for them here.” 

Even as she says the words, she hopes they’re not true—hopes that, even if they really aren’t meant to be together, that she and Edward, she and the Cullens, can still be… Friends isn’t really a strong enough word, but she wants them in her life, potential bloody accidents be damned. 

“So if he came back,” Jacob says, leaning in closer, his lips hovering over hers, “you wouldn’t go to him?” His tone is light, but she understands the weight of his question, takes a moment to find the right words to answer it. 

“If he came back, I’d want to see him. Just like I want to see Alice.” She reaches out to touch him, his warm, bare skin, places her palm over his thumping heart. “But I wouldn’t go to him. Not like this.” 

It’s true, and she wants to say more, to promise him, reassure him, but just after she says it, the landline rings. Jacob sighs, his breath on her cheek, and reaches out a hand to answer it. “Hello?” The person on the other end speaks in a low tone she can’t make out, but she can see the tick in Jacob’s jaw, a hard set to his eyes. “He isn’t here right now, but that’s not who you really want, is it?” 

There’s another moment of conversation she can’t hear, and Alice walks into the room looking stunned; Jacob hands the other girl the receiver, and she looks from him to Alice and then speaks into the phone. “Hello?” 

“You’re alright.” 

It’s Edward, his voice cool and smooth but thick with emotion. It makes butterflies flutter around in her stomach, just like it used to. 

“I’m alright.” She doesn’t give him more than he asks for, doesn’t take more than he offers. She’s aware of two sets of eyes on her, feels more nervous than before, in her oversized t-shirt and sleep-mussed hair.

She’s glad he can’t see her and wonders exactly what that means.

“Good. Rosalie said Alice had a vision…” He trails off, but they both know what he’s not saying: everyone thought she’d given up and killed herself. She crosses her arms.

“The vision was incomplete. I’m fine. Stupid, but fine.” Edward huffs a laugh down the line, and she can imagine the exact cant of his mouth, the glimmer in his eye that always seemed to be reserved for her.

“You are many things, but stupid is not one of them.” There’s more he wants to say, she can tell; as a man of few words, many of their conversations were punctuated with heavy, meaningful silence. Part of her wishes she could see his face, at least. That always helped. “Who answered the phone? Jacob?”

She looks up at him involuntarily, notes the tightness of his mouth, his arms folded in front of his bare chest. 

“Yes, Jacob. He’s the one who pulled me out of the water, the one Alice didn’t see.” 

“Hmm. He still doesn’t seem to like me much.” Her lips turn up at that—understatement of the century—and she wonders if Jake can hear him too. Based on the stoic expression he wears, he either can’t, or he’s not paying attention. 

“No he does not.” A beat passes, then two. “You should call your family more often, go see them. They miss you.” 

“It’s difficult,” he says, swallowing, and she nods at no one. 

“I know, but don’t punish them. Please.” She knows how it feels, to be totally cut off from people she loves, to constantly wonder, always fear the worst; she doesn’t say it because she knows he knows.

“I’ll consider it, if you don’t go jumping off those cliffs any time soon.” She laughs softly, surprised at his humor; this was not how she would have ever anticipated a call like this to go, but she likes it. Likes them, like this. 

“Deal. Alice is looking at me like she’s going to steal the phone any moment,” she warns, which is putting it mildly. “So I’m going to put her on. You can call when it’s not life or death, you know,” she adds quietly. “It would be nice to hear from you. If you ever want to talk.” 

She doesn’t know if he responds, because Alice takes the receiver, winds the cord around her arm, and scolds her brother with love in the way only a sister can manage. 

While they talk, she walks toward Jacob, then past him, toward the staircase, but she takes hold of his hand as she goes, and he follows just like the night before. This time, he closes the bedroom door behind them. 

“I’m sorry this happened like this,” she says, sitting down on the bed, one leg beneath her and the other hanging over the edge. “I’m not sorry Alice is here, but I’m sorry that’s what you woke up to. If you were… worried.” Jacob takes the space next to her atop the rumpled duvet. 

“I was worried when I smelled a bloodsu- vampire,” he corrects quickly, “and you weren’t beside me.”

“I’m sorry,” she says again, this time leaning closer. “But thank you for giving me the phone, letting me talk to him. I’m sure that wasn’t easy.” He shrugs, like it was no big deal, even though she remembers how angry he’d looked at the sound of Edward’s voice. 

“I almost didn’t. I mean, technically, he didn’t ask for you.” She rolls her eyes—definitely guy logic—then stands up, scoops his jeans off the floor and hands them over to him. Her face heats at the memory of removing them in the first place, but she snaps out of that for her own sake and grabs fresh clothes, steps into the bathroom to make herself presentable.

When she’s done, she heads back to her bedroom, where Jacob is now clad in jeans and boots, sitting shirtless on her bed. She deposits the borrowed t-shirt onto his lap, and when he thinks she’s not looking he brings it to his nose, inhales long and slow, before pulling it over his head.

That action does things to her, and she wishes for a moment that she had his senses, so she could smell the two of them the same way he does, their scents deeply saturated and blended together.

They head downstairs when they’re both dressed, and while he rummages in the refrigerator for something to make them for breakfast, she treads into the living room and sits down next to Alice on the couch. 

“So,” Alice says, and then she gestures to a cup of tea. The other girl picks up the mug and thanks her, brings it to her lips. “How long has that been going on?” 

She feels her cheeks heat, and she hides behind another sip of tea. 

“Really? I haven’t seen you in almost a year and that’s what you want to talk about?” 

“Oh, forgive me for being curious about what it’s like to date a werewolf when last I saw you were grieving the loss of my brother.” Alice’s tone is more playful than it would seem, and her eyes smile even if her lips don’t. 

She always knew that Edward wasn’t telling the truth when he said he didn’t want her. He just couldn’t bear it, knowing that being with him put her in so much danger, caused her so much pain. She knew it was worth it, but if he didn’t… there’s nothing she could have done to change his mind, she knows that now. She can’t feel guilty for moving on when it’s exactly what he’d wanted her to do in the first place. 

“Okay, you’re right. Let’s talk about how I’m going to comb the woods, find Victoria, and rip her into confetti for threatening to hurt you.” 

“You don’t have to do that,” Jacob says, walking into the room with… a cup of tea. He looks over at the mug in her hand, then sets the one he brought her down on the table without a word. “The pack’s got it covered.” 

“All due respect, but if the pack had it covered, she wouldn’t be a threat anymore, would she?” Alice tosses over her shoulder. The other girl sets her tea down and sighs. 

“Alright, can we not do this? The age-old vampires versus werewolves thing? Especially if I’m in the middle of it. Maybe you guys could work together for a change; Alice can’t protect this part of the territory all by herself.” She picks up her drink—a drink, the one Jacob made, this time—and takes a long sip, looks up at them over the rim of the mug. 

“The pack could help, if you give us the authority to amend the treaty,” Jacob says to Alice, though he’s kind of looking at the ceiling, his arms crossed. “But wherever she is, I’ll be.” 

“You can’t be with her every second,” Alice counters, and her exasperation makes it  sound like an argument she’s had before. “It’s not good for either of you and could put her in danger; if Victoria picks up on it, she’ll be able to use your scent to track her anywhere. Trust me, yours is a lot stronger than hers is, and it’s all over her.” 

She thinks Jacob makes some kind of noise, like a low growl in the very back of his throat, but it’s hard to hear. Alice raises her eyebrows like she’s trying not to roll her eyes. 

The three of them discuss potential ways to coordinate with the pack, and Alice mentions calling in Emmett and Jasper to see if they could help with the search; the sooner Victoria is gone, the better, is the general consensus, and Jacob thinks he can get Sam on board with that as well, even if it means more Cullens coming back to town. 

She finishes both cups of tea, then a plate of eggs and toast Jacob put together from the bare-bones contents of her kitchen—she reminds herself to make a shopping list, then absently wonders if she’ll have a grand escort to Trader Joe’s. 

“I’ll make some calls while you’re gone,” Alice says as she is taking her last bite; she looks up from her plate, confused, and Alice waves a hand. “I saw a glimpse of you at the grocery store, but then it went dark; I assume that means he’s going with you.”

“I thought about it for a split second, as a joke,” she clarifies with a huff of laughter. “I don’t think I need a bodyguard in the produce aisle at eight AM.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Alice and Jacob say, at the same time, and her lips twitch in amusement. 

Looks like they’re not so different, in the end.

She gives in and allows Jacob to drive her to the supermarket, though not without a long look from Alice as he walks her to the truck with his hand on the small of her back. 

They breeze through the store thanks to the list in her head—she buys a little more than she usually would, because it seems like Jacob plans to be around. She likes the thought of that even more than she’d expected, likes choosing things solely because she knows he’ll enjoy them.

“I think we should talk about last night,” Jacob says, voice low, when they’re nearly back to her house. She cringes internally, because that’s never a sentence a girl wants to hear after a night like that, and he clears his throat. “I know cliff jumping ended up being kind of traumatic for you, and it didn’t feel like it last night, but if I took advantage…”

He looks over at her, his expression pained, and she shifts closer and wraps her hand around his forearm.

“God, no, Jake—that’s not what happened.” He brings the truck to a stop in her driveway, puts it in park, and she presses her palm to his cheek so he’ll focus on her instead of fixing his gaze out the window. “I wanted everything, every moment. I still want it,” she murmurs, and he looks over her face like he’s still not quite sure he believes it.

“You do? Even after… after you spoke to him, and everything?” It’s a fair question, and again, one she answers very carefully.

“I think we needed to talk, he and I, but it didn’t change anything. You’re the one who changed everything,” she admits softly, tentatively, wetting her lips. She hopes her eyes convey the certainty her voice can’t seem to. “Do you want to kiss me?” she breathes, leaning closer, her fingers winding a path through his hair, and he nods his head and presses his mouth to hers. 

She gets up on her knees so she can be closer to him, but she doesn’t climb into his lap like before—she does have some self-restraint, despite what it may seem. She curls one arm around the muscles of his back, pulls him in for more contact with the hand in his hair, and it’s a few minutes later when she remembers they’ve got bags of perishable groceries in the back and a vampire with excellent acoustic abilities just inside her home. 

She pulls back, smiles a little at the soft, unfocused look on his face, then runs her hand down his chest before lifting it away entirely.

“I know we’re kind of at DEFCON 1 right now, but more of that a little later would be nice.” 

“Hmm. Very nice,” he agrees with a nod, his voice slightly rough, and he turns off the ignition and carries all of her groceries into the kitchen with one strong arm. 

Emmett and Jasper do come back, with Rosalie and Esme, to her delight and Jacob’s discomfort. Between the pack, who comes to get the vampires’ scents so there’s no friendly fire, and the family, who split time between her house and the one they left behind, the place is a revolving door of the supernatural for the next few days. 

All of them take turns watching over her house at night, while the others patrol the woods. She catches up with everyone she’s been separated from—even Jasper gives her a crushing hug, so at least the time away was good for something—and it’s wonderful, but it means there’s not much time to be with Jacob aside from planning sessions and the occasional quick check in. The most time she spends with him is when they attend Harry’s funeral, something somber and intimate, with ethereal music and a glowing campfire and endless stories about the Clearwater line. 

She is introduced to Leah and Seth, Harry’s children, and while Seth seems welcoming and friendly his sister is cold, standoffish—though not without reason, she soon learns from the pack. 

“She’s not always like that… mostly just when she’s around Sam,” Embry says where they stand on the edge of the forest, away from the thick smoke that burns her very human eyes. She looks over at the pack leader at the mention of his name. “Now that she’s part of the pack, we have to live the Leah/Sam/Emily painfest all over again.” 

She turns back to him, to Quil, who’s standing beside him, and tilts her head, curious.

“I don’t think I follow—Sam left Leah for Emily?”

“Well, yeah, but it’s not what you think. He hates himself for hurting her, but he couldn’t help it. Emily was ‘the one.’” Quil says it almost sarcastically, with air quotes for emphasis, and she frowns.

“The one?” She doesn’t mean to sound skeptical, but these days she’s not as big a fan of providence and destiny as she used to be.

“Sam imprinted on Emily. It’s kind of like… soulmates, but bigger. Cosmic. They were literally meant to be together.”

“Like fate,” she says, filling in that blank, and then a large, warm hand is splayed across her back, fingertips pressing into the fabric of her dress. 

“We make our own fate around here,” Jacob says tightly, and she looks up, regards him curiously. He’s not just upset about Harry, or Victoria… there’s got to be something else making his jaw tense, his eyes hard. “And I think that’s more than enough of the pack soap opera for tonight. Are you ready to go home?” 

He turns his gaze to her, and it softens, for which she is grateful; he is her guardian on duty tonight, and despite the solemn evening—or maybe because of it—she wants to spend the night as close to him as she possibly can.

She nods, and after they say their goodbyes he walks her to the truck, opens the door for her, closing it carefully when she’s safely inside. He takes the spot behind the driver’s seat—his usual, now—but doesn’t drive straight to her house like she expects. 

“Ice cream?” she asks when he turns off the engine outside of a mom and pop shop selling sundaes, cones, and shakes. She exits the car at his indication, and the two of them walk hand in hand up to the illuminated window that says Order Here. An older couple is ahead of them, pointing at the chalk menu board, and Jacob leans in to speak in a hushed tone. 

“This place was Harry’s favorite. You like chocolate, right?” 

“Has anyone ever answered ‘no’ to that question?” she asks softly, playfully, and it works as intended, lightens the mood just enough to bring a brilliant smile to his painfully beautiful face. “I think this is a wonderful way to remember him, Jake.” She wraps a comforting arm around his, and Jacob nods, lips pressed together, eyes sad.

“Just kind of feels right.” 

He orders for them when it’s their turn, two waffle cones with two scoops of chocolate ice cream each, and they sit at a picnic table on the side of the building, eating their tributes with heavy hearts and looking up at the stars.

The ride home is quiet, contemplative, at least for her; by the time they arrive she has been running through thoughts of mortality, finality, how short life is and how very precious. 

These are all normal thoughts for a person to have, and certainly after a celebration of life like the one on the reservation tonight, but she thinks seriously for the first time about Jacob and his desperate need to protect her, the way he puts himself in danger—stupidly, recklessly, completely—every day to keep her safe.

When they’ve made it inside, she exhales deeply, looks up into earnest, curious eyes, and wraps her arms around him, presses close so she can bury her nose in his clothing.

She breathes him in long and slow, his usual scent of crisp air and rain and oak dulled by the smoke of the bonfire, and then his hands are in her hair, tipping her face up for a decadent, passionate kiss. 

God, how is he so good at this? she thinks as he sips at her lips, glides his own down the tender line of her throat. She sighs and grabs for his arms, something to ground her as her desire threatens to take over, to leave her a whimpering, begging mess beneath his hands. 

Jacob turns them so she’s got her back to the kitchen table, sets her on top of it, and she parts her knees for him, pulls him closer. Her fingers itch with the need to touch his skin, so she tugs at the hem of his shirt and gets her hands beneath it, skims them over the taut muscles of his bare back. 

“I can take it off,” he murmurs against her neck, and she nods breathlessly and helps him pull it over his head. His hands bracket her hips, palms flat on the table, and her arms curve up around his back, bringing him closer; she kisses him eagerly anywhere she can reach—his throat, shoulders, face, everywhere.

She whispers his name into his own skin, presses her lips to his biceps, scrapes her teeth over the lobe of his ear, and he shudders at her touch, tilts his head to look up at her, his eyes dark and almost… dangerous.

What does it say about her, that she finds that look so goddamn attractive?

“I’m sorry, I—I need a minute,” he says, panting through gritted teeth, and she lets her hands fall away, leaning back a little to give him space to breathe.

“Take all the time you need,” she assures him calmly, patiently. It’s the first time she’s ever seen his wolf so close to the surface, and she’s completely unafraid, would hold him and help him ride out the tension in his body if she thought he would let her. “It’s just us, Jake, just me and you.” 

“Just us,” he repeats, his fists clenching and unclenching, taking a long breath with his eyes closed. She breathes with him, has always found that helpful when she herself is overwhelmed, and after a few moments he presses closer and she runs a soothing hand over his chest. “I’m okay,” he says eventually, leaning in slowly for a kiss as though he’s afraid it will be rejected. She brings her hands to his face, deepens it, so it’s still soft and easy but with enough meaning behind it to convey her thoughts. 

“I know,” she murmurs, just to be certain he believes her. “You did so good; so good, Jake.” He nods, pulls back a little so he can look into her eyes. 

“It’s not that I can’t control it, I can, but…” He looks away for a moment, swipes his tongue over his lips. “The instincts are so strong and I don’t always want to fight them. Sometimes when I’m with you, I want to let the wolf win.” He says it like he’s ashamed, and she puts her arm around his shoulders and brings him down for another kiss, this one just a gentle press of mouths.

“I understand that more than you think I do.” His breath on her lips makes her crave more of his heat, but she knows it has to be slow now, or he’ll get too in his head and never let himself enjoy their night together. “I may not be supernaturally inclined, but sometimes making decisions with my body is all I want to do. Especially with you,” she adds, just a sigh between them, then touches their foreheads together. 

They stay like that for a moment, embracing in their own way, until he initiates a kiss that is so thorough it makes her toes curl. She brings her hands to his waist, guides him closer, and he rests a broad palm at the base of her throat and kisses her, again, and again, and again. 

Her arms curl around his body the second they separate for air, and he lifts her from the table, carries her up the stairs with an ease that makes her long for more frequent displays of his strength. 

Getting his clothes off is quick enough, since he’s already shirtless, and his hands are tender and gentle as he sweeps her hair away from her neck, pulls down the zipper of her dress, slides it off her bare shoulders. 

Neither of them bother to pull back the covers, simply lay back on the bed, her knees apart again, Jacob hovering between them and letting his eyes move over her like he’s committing her body to memory. It makes a wave of heat rush through her, and since tonight is less hurried she does the same, lingers over every curve of muscle, every sharp line of bone. He leans in, lays an arm behind her head, glides his lips over her jaw, her cheek, her mouth.

“I was right, before,” she says after another satisfying kiss, letting her fingers press into the flesh of his hips. He looks into her eyes, tilts his head curiously, and she smiles a little, can’t help herself. “You really are beautiful.” 

Jake breathes a laugh, even blushes a little, then kisses her until they’re both panting; her fingertips press harder when he pushes inside, then glide up his back to keep him close while the two of them move together. 

Jacob feels so different this way, is so much deeper, filling her in a way that makes it so she really can’t tell where she ends and he begins. He is heavy on top of her, but not uncomfortably so, and when her body shifts up the bed with every thrust it’s thrilling, incredible—she’s never felt so much in her life.

His face is serious, eyes focused, and she weaves her fingers into his hair and catches his lips in a kiss, moans into the end of it when he finds a spot inside of her that takes her breath away. 

“Oh, god, Jake.” He leans in for another kiss, deep and wet, nods against her lips. 

“You’re perfect—so perfect,” he huffs, breathless; he moves his hand to her hip, runs it over her stomach, then presses his palms to the bed and repeats his previous motion, over and over, her body coiling tight with pleasure. “Can’t believe I get this.” 

“We get this,” she corrects in a whisper, won’t let him think for one second that she’s not as completely in awe of him as he seems to be of her. She skims her nails over his lower back, his ass, tightens her thighs on either side of him and tips her head back just as he makes her come. “Don’t stop, Jake, please,” she whines, shaking, holding him so tightly with her entire body—she never wants it to end, never wants to be separated from him again, and he agrees, if the way his body presses down on hers is any indication. 

“Can’t stop… need you,” he groans, pushing her leg up further, so he feels almost impossibly thick and deep. Her arms wrap around his back, pulling him closer, holding him there as he ruts into her, scorching flesh pressed against flesh. 

“Yes, oh—”

Before she knows it she’s quaking again, gasping when he brings his teeth to her throat, scrapes them over her throbbing pulse. He growls in her ear, a deep, low, animalistic rumble she can feel in her stomach, then comes inside, claiming her with a broken, raspy, “mine.”

He lays half on top of her, half on the bed, after, their skin soft and damp with cooling sweat. She can’t stop looking at his face, his dark eyes, sharp jaw, and he cups her cheek with a gentle palm and gazes just as intently at her. 

“Come here,” she murmurs, a soft smile on her lips, and he kisses her slowly, makes her sigh with a pleasure so complete—mentally, physically, spiritually—it feels like she’ll never be the same. 

He gets up after a moment, comes back with a glass of water and a towel, and helps her clean up well enough to hold her over until she’s ready to get out of bed. She pulls the covers back while he’s gone, slides in between the cool sheets, and he follows her lead, pressing close to her beneath them.

“Are you upset you didn’t imprint on me?” she asks carefully, propping herself up on her elbow and using the other hand to run fingers through his hair. “I noticed that when the guys were talking about it, you got kind of tense.” He shrugs slightly before shaking his head.

“No, not upset… I was just so sure you were meant for me; I really thought it would happen sooner or later.” She understands that, can picture him wishing and waiting for something that would never come to pass. So patient, her Jacob.

“Do you wish it had? Do you think it would make this more real?” Her hand moves from his hair to his collarbone, down his chest, over his stomach, so very low. “Because when I’m touching you like this… nothing has ever felt so real.” 

He presses her against the bed, hovers over her, kisses her breathless, and it goes without saying that he agrees with every word she says. She softens beneath him, tired and pleased, and he shifts into a more comfortable position, laying behind her, that she knows means sleep for the both of them. He drapes an arm over her, and she draws circles into his skin with her fingertips, feels his warm breath on her neck, closes her eyes and revels in the weight of him at her back.

“Anyway,” she whispers, one last thought on her mind before she succumbs to sleep, “I almost think it’s better like this, that we have to fight for each other. No help from fate—just your will and mine.”

A/N: I got my start in fandom spaces by writing Twilight fanfic fifteen years ago, but I never posted it because it was... bad. Last week was a crummy week for me, so I found comfort in watching New Moon, and I literally couldn't help myself from re-writing it in Jacob's favor. There's no Edward hate here, and he'll play a bigger role in the next part I have planned, but Jake took hold of me in this one and didn't let go.

[utilitycaster]

How can Molly's death be considered a major mistake? It's the crux of the entire campaign.

so I think about this a lot, because you're right, and it really comes down to like...a lot of factors in how people interact with fiction, and some stuff I feel about fandom.

The short answer is that Molly is some people's favorite character, and they really wanted to watch him for 141 episodes and not just 26, and they didn't get to, and so it's valid to feel sad about that. But I think what personally grinds my gears is the idea that it's a mistake and because this is a Fan Favorite character he SHOULD have come back. Setting aside the fact that he had both his fans and his detractors from the start and a lot of people (myself included) who found him irritating didn't say much for a good chunk of C2 because, well, he was dead, this isn't a fucking competitive reality show. You don't get to vote on your phones to decide who wins a resurrection.

I think the longer answer is that there is a certain type of person in fandom, born of a certain type of person in social media communities, who just...is not willing or interested in considering not just that their experiences, preferences, and philosophy are not universal, but also that they are not objectively best and correct and that everyone who disagrees is wrong. It's often really common in, though not exclusive to, people who have particularly limited experiences - young (like, teenager/early 20s), people who haven't lived in a diverse area or in multiple different areas, people who for whatever reason do not get out much - which both makes sense (haven't been exposed to a ton of different perspectives irl) but also means that you get people who, for all they may talk about global politics, kind of unconsciously seem to act as though everyone they interact with online is a variant of someone from the same 3000 person town in the United States in which they've spent all 21 years of their life. ANYWAY getting back to the main point I feel like Molly attracted a lot of that kind of person, who just...doesn't get that while Molly is, to them, a deeply validating expression of gender identity, for many people he is "guy you meet at your friend's birthday party in a two-bedroom 6 floor walk up and within 5 seconds he has pissed you off so profoundly with his overfamiliarity that you go into the kitchen and mainline as much vanilla vodka as possible to not stab this guy with a secondhand knife that says "CHEESE!" on it even though you hate vanilla vodka and it's summer in NYC and you're on the 6th floor in a small apartment with too many people so it's approximately 117 degrees Fahrenheit in this kitchen and the vodka isn't much cooler, and you succeed in this goal, and then after sending your friend who couldn't make it because they were at a family thing that weekend a picture of a rat on the tracks of the 3 train with a caption "this u?" at 1:54 in the morning you're like "so this guy Molly was there" and they're like "oh my god I met him at Cameron's last party, he SUCKS" and you're like "I KNOW". Like a lot of people just do not get that Molly was very popular with their circle, and also a lot of people either were neutral-to-not-feeling-it. This is before we get into the post-death idealization of who he was that takes him from "irritating but I think he'd have grown on me in some ways eventually had he lived" to "horrible and insufferable fake-ass bitch."

And then we get to the true impasse: the idea that something that does not fulfill every single one of your personal wishes might still be a great story.

I'm certainly not perfect, and there's things I thought I wanted for the end of C2 that I didn't get, and there's some things I do wish we'd have gotten to see (or that we'd have done in C3), but I like to think that I try to remain at least partially open to the possibilities. I like to think that my enjoyment of a story isn't contingent on whether one single character survives, even if they are my favorite (and I say this as someone whose favorite ASOIAF character was immediately Ned Stark, a statement that should surprise no one who follows me) nor that the story precisely reaffirms my existing worldview. I want stories to tell me something new and interesting that wouldn't come from my own head, and I want them to sell me on it. I think that a lot of people lost the thread of the importance of representation, namely, they forgot that while it's great to see people like you in a story, you should also be trying to see people not like you and perspectives that aren't yours. I am extremely defensive of my and other people's right to say "I didn't like this story and here is why" without someone being like "Give it a chance! Here's why I think it's good" but at the same time, there is a difference between "I really wish Molly had stayed alive and I don't like that he died," and "everything that happened after he died was A Mistake because it wasn't what I Wanted, and someone should fix this." Like that's what toddlers do. That's not an adult way of interacting with narrative.

So those people don't even get to the point of "the entire campaign is deeply influenced by the loss of Molly; that is what binds the rest of the Nein together and makes them what they are; the fact that Lucien wears the face of a departed friend is crucial to the entire final arc comprising about 20% of the campaign; and the fact that he does not come back, but someone new, with new chances and new choices to make does is emblematic of a campaign about people who find that they cannot undo their pasts, but neither are they trapped or damned by them." They're stuck at "guy I liked died and I'm throwing a tantrum 6 years later."

[jymwahuwu]

I don't usually send asks but be careful. The hsr fandom is mass reporting any dubcon or noncon accounts in the fandom. They got someone's account deleted the other day and accused them of promoting r@pe.

I hope u have a good day!

Oh thank you! I don't pay much attention to fandom stuff so I don't know…I guess people are crying and screaming over the morality of fictional content again💀

To cite the fact, I recently purchased some comics from DL sites, which according to wiki already have over 9 million global users in 2022. There are many popular otome comics, CDs, sounds and games available online where you can buy them. As you've probably read, those comics are quite famous. You can see that the first place is yandere, the second place is non-con, and the third place is sweet love story. I did a quick count, and one-third of the top 100 are non-con, dub-con, and yandere content. That is almost the most popular and best-selling content theme in otome around the world. I guess that proves something.

Women…not just women, people's sexual repression and shame are quite evident around the world. Sex cannot be mentioned or discussed in the public sphere, let alone your desires, which are not accepted. Many people who have CNC kink are people who have rape fantasies. If the protagonist is forced to take away, overwhelm, in the fantasy, then there will be less sexual guilt because you are being forced.

David W. Wahl Ph.D. points out in "Understanding and Indulging in Rape Fantasy":

In Lehmiller’s (2018) survey results of 4,175 adults in the United States, he found that two-thirds of women in the study had rape fantasies and half of the men surveyed reported having rape fantasies.

And he mentioned the stigma surrounding rape fantasies:

As in all types of sexual desires, there are those who will stigmatize anyone who is sexually aroused by rape fantasy. Those who do not find arousal in this form of desire often cannot understand why others would like it. And, unfortunately, when some individuals are not interested in a particular desire, they act to shame anyone who is.

To summarize, the reasons for having rape fantasies mentioned in his article are:

Coping with past sexual assault

For sexual exploration

Rape fantasies can provide excuses, meaning the person can convince themselves that they did not want it but were forced to do so.

Oops, maybe some of the people staring at my page are now thinking "Oh my God, that's terrible. I'm going to report this to foreign website. So many people have these vicious and unacceptable thoughts in their minds" and "They are defending and encouraging rape". They cry out to their inner morals, "That's disgusting!", "Why do these studies justify these evil ideas?"

I'm not surprised. Reading ability is limited.

[bartypluto]

Everything wrong with the marauders fandom ── rant

Long rant about everything that I think doesn't make sense in the fandom since marauders TikTok is driving me crazy (I did not proofread this and I don't know how much sense it makes but I hope you get the point).

People in the marauders fandom ship characters and make friend groups based on tropes and the personality of the characters (e.g. Regulus being with James bc of the brother's best friend trope and because their personalities are cute together) instead of taking the characters' morals and opinions into account (e.g. James (canonically) hates Slytherins and blood supremacists, therefore he wouldn't like Regulus (romantically or platonically)). By doing this, the characters are reduced to stereotypes without morals. Everyone likes each other (the Death Eaters are friends with members of the Order) and there's no room for a plot. Why would blood supremacy exist if not a single Death Eater or member of the OOTP actually upholds their beliefs? What's the point of the Harry Potter novels if everyone is best friends with each other? (I'm not saying personality doesn't matter or that the tropes make no sense, but ignoring everything a character stands for is taking it too far).

Characters are limited to being "bad people" and not being allowed positive qualities or "good people" who don't have flaws (e.g. the Marauders being perfect (except for Peter) and Snape being irredeemable and the devil incarnate). Why is it always so black and white? You've already stripped characters of their morals and now you're also not allowing them to have both good and bad in them?

So basically friend groups and ships don't make sense, lore doesn't actually matter anymore, and talking about anything is pointless since everyone is arguing about headcanons (which can't easily be disproved, cause if you say someone's headcanon isn't realistic, they'll start talking about how "nothing is canon so it doesn't matter!!!" Which is just plain out wrong by the way).

The ideas of a good work of fiction and character analysis are ruined since no one cares about the canon things we know about characters. They are under the illusion of not having any canon information, even though there's actually quite a lot of info in the books. Character headcanons should be an expansion of said person, an elaboration of what they're like. Making random things up is not valid unless we genuinely don't know a lot about someone (e.g. Dorcas, but even in her case we still know she was against Death Eaters and blood supremacy, so saying she'd be friends with Death Eaters is a reach unless you're claiming she actually doesn't have strong morals or you think she was friends with them before they got blood supremacist beliefs).

Also please come up with better names cause what are "Slytherin skittles", "Partyvan" or even "dead gay wizards"? I'm sorry this might just be the hater in me but I cannot take this anymore. Being gay has become some kind of quirk and making every character lgbt is seen as a good fandom trait (the dead gay wizards name has been around for a while, but point still stands).

The fandom claims to be oh so inclusive because everyone is gay, yet they make Sirius a femboy because God forbid two masculine men are in a relationship. One of them has to be feminine, right? You're definitely not promoting negative stereotypes by doing that! Also Jily and other straight ships being seen as boring because "all heteros suck and only gay characters deserve a fandom!" You're literally setting us back under the false narrative of "being inclusive". You're perpetuating stereotypes (again) and you're acting like being gay is some special personality trait.

All the characters from the Marauders era are so interesting and the era has so much potential, but it's being wasted because of the fandom's poor understanding of fiction.

[sleepingdeath-light]

relationship hcs ; vox

requested by ; mezzanottespazzatura (13/02/24)

fandom(s) ; hazbin hotel

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; vox

outline ; “Would it be possible to get some relationship hcs for Vox? Smut is optional, I just need more content with this man and I can't wait for season 2 hhhhhhhhh-”

note ; this may be a smidge shaky as i’ve never written for him before but this was fun to write either way so i hope you all enjoy it ^^

warning(s) ; none, just fluff!

though his busy schedule keeps him from being as physically attentive as he might prefer to be with you, vox does his best to make it up to you as best he can — granted this usually just means him attempting to buy your favour and forgiveness through lavish gifts and dates, but its the thought that counts… right?

this habit of his means that, over the course of your relationship with vox, you manage to acquire quite the extensive collection of lavish gifts — including, but not limited to: a wardrobe of clothes from hell’s top designers and brands that’s so large that it takes up several rooms in your shared penthouse (including all of the shoes and accessories to match each outfit), all of the latest voxtech devices and services at arm’s reach no matter where you may go, whole rooms dedicated to your interests (no matter how niche) including items that you thought were impossible to get ahold of in hell, the best skin and hair care items that money can buy (and that are suited to your exact preferences and needs), a veritable army of robots dedicated to tending to your every whim and need (kitty also gets lent to you by val on occasion but vox prefers that you use the bots he had made specifically for you), and so on…

unless he’s in a very intense argument with one of the other vees or locked into a meeting with other overlords or potential investors that requires his full attention, vox always has an eye on you — watching you through your television, your phone, the security cameras in your home, and every single device you walk past throughout your day

he claims it’s for you your own safety — after all, he’s been very public about your relationship and there are plenty of sinners that would gladly kill or kidnap you just to mess with his head and try and take over his territory — but really it’s because he’s a deeply insecure man that is both terrified of losing you to someone better than him, and extremely quick to anger if he sees anyone getting too close, too friendly, with you for his liking

in other words: your boyfriend is jealous as hell and, try as he might to hide it behind his usual facade of complete control and perfection, it’s extremely obvious to you and everyone else who has known him for more than ten minutes

as mentioned before, vox makes no attempt to hide your relationship from the public and very loudly and proudly claims you as his partner wherever and whenever he can — this partially to maintain his public persona of the likeable and respectable business mogul (hence why a lot of your dates involve frequenting spots where reporters tend to hang out so that he can show off just how much of a doting gentleman he is) but it’s also his own way of marking his territory and letting any potential suitors of yours know that you’re already very happily taken and that they have no chance of taking you from him

when it comes to pet names, he tends to default to either just calling you your name (or a shortened version thereof) or something more traditional like ‘honey’, ‘darling’, or ‘sweetie’ if he’s feeling particularly sentimental — likewise he prefers to be called his name or something similarly traditional by you in public (but the moment the two of you are alone he does tend to soften up quite a bit and will respond to anything you want to call him, so long as it’s said with the intention of being affectionate)

after a long day of work, or attending to val’s tantrums whenever they occur and knock his schedule out of wack, vox loves nothing more than being able to come home and rant to you about it all — cussing out everyone who has ever wronged him, no matter how small the offence, whilst you nod along encouragingly and rub his shoulders and urge him to sit down for a moment before he paces a hole into the carpet is, oddly enough, kinda therapeutic for him and it becomes something of a routine for you two

he thrives on praise and affirmation and loves it when you wrap your arms around him, play with the hem of his jacket, and tell him how amazing he is at everything he does in life: the perfect boyfriend, the best entertainer in all of hell, one of the most powerful overlords in the pride ring (bonus points here if you shit talk alastor and emphasise how much better at everything vox is), a man worthy of being praised and feared, and the list goes on — he’ll reward you in kind once you’re finished, of course, but he’s more than happy to push back his next meeting by a half hour or so if it means getting to bask in your adoration and praise for a little while

he texts you periodically throughout the day — usually when there’s a lull in his work, when he’s bored during a meeting, or if someone has just done something so exceptionally stupid that he needs to tell someone and you’re the only one that will understand — and for as much as he goes on about being super busy all of the time, he always responds to your texts within a minute or so of them being sent

you’re the person whose input and opinions he trusts the most out of anyone else in the pride ring: you’re the person who he bounces his latest ideas off when he’s just at the planning stage and something isn’t quite clicking, you’re the one he rants to about his frustrations with alastor and the other vees because he knows that you’ll always listen to him and help him calm down before he causes another blackout, you’re the first person he shows a new upgrade or outfit to because he always wants to look and feel his best for you, etc., etc.

you’re one of the few people that gets to see vox both at his best as a talented and capable overlord, and at his very worst when he’s on the brink of tears and one wrong word away from plunging the entirety of pentagram city into a blackout — you’re there to stand proudly beside him as the loving and supportive spouse to his confident and inventive businessman, and you’re also there to console and reassure him as he frets about alastor’s return and what that means for the empire he’s built in his absence

he’s not the most physically affectionate person in the world, but he can appreciate the basics: having you curled up on his lap when he’s working at his desk (or resting his head on your lap when you’re at home and you’re listening to him talk about something or another), kissing you before he leaves for work (or having you peck his screen whenever you visit him at the office), and resting a clawed hand on the small of your back or on your waist as you’re walking around or just standing side by side

[thatmooncake]

Obsessed with how Sun fits so much of himself into such a tiny space.

I mean first of all, literally.

He’s gonna have to surgically detach his rays from that slide.

And then we have his living space, the Superstar daycare. Big at first but when it’s the only place you can seem to access while others get free roam of half the building or even get to go outside of it? TINY. The outside world is unfathomably HUGE in comparison. And everyone he comes into contact with has basically seen so much more of it than he has. And that must feel so impressive to him but at the same time so strange and …maybe somewhat limiting? Like no matter how hard he tries to relate or understand from his little corner, others have experienced things firsthand that he probably never has. Things he’s read to kids in storybooks and sang songs about but never seen up close.

And we know that in some sense he likes things to be just so. The barrels are aligned. The lights stay on. That’s the only way he feels safe. So I imagine his own limited perspective when he comes face to face with people from the outside world feels kind of scary to him in a way.

And despite the daycare being his domain, people encroach upon his space without warning, and he plays along. All of a sudden there are people and he must deal with them accordingly and he must act in a certain way no matter how he feels about it and how much stress he’s put under (for example, continuing on with playtime despite the whole situation with Moon, perhaps because he has to, or he wants to, or he has nothing else - maybe all of the above).

^ Look at his little room! It makes me sad. I don’t know if Moon ripped up all the bots that are scattered over the floor or if Sun did or if someone else did but the fact is the place looks so depressing compared to most of the Glamrocks’ rooms it’s painful. Here we have two of the most neglected robots in the pizzaplex and they carry on like that doesn’t matter, but we know Sun knows that something is very wrong so even if this is the norm for him and even if he’s used to it, the more broken bits and pieces he encounters the more it must be killing him because every day when he’s done entertaining the kids or pretending someone’s going to show up that day (depending on if the daycare is closed or not) he goes back to a permanent reminder of just how messed up things have become.

And he seems SO HAPPY to see a stranger from outside of that little room. No matter how you look at that, it’s pretty sad. Is he faking his enthusiasm? What a frustrating and stressful situation that must be to be at the beck and call of someone you don’t genuinely want to be around and act like you’re their new best friend. Is he actually excited? What a stressful situation that must be too, only for any semblance of control you had to be abruptly torn from you as you’re forced to switch when the lights go out, clearly horrified by what’s going to happen all the while because you know it won’t be good for anyone.

Does it hurt when he switches? I’m fascinated by Sun’s relationship with Moon. It’s played in so many interesting ways by the fandom. Are they two separate people? Are they like roommates who share a body? Are they two aspects of the same AI? They’re so versatile and I love it. I love all the takes there are on their personalities. Sun? Silly, goofy, playful, ray of sunshine, bundle of nerves, parental, fiery, bossy, strict, the embodiment of anxiety, and so on. Moon? Prankster, gremlin, sleepy, calm, collected, grumpy, silly, catlike, etc. I love it when they get along and I love it when they don’t. I have so many feelings about them both and it’s less that I want to know the truth about them (if there is such a thing) and more I just like exploring every avenue because they’re just really fun and fascinating characters.

And THAT SYMBOLISM. Wow. The sun and moon themes give you so much to play around with. So many metaphors and so many things you can plaster the surfaces of your house or the background of your phone with that make you think of them. The moon’s phases. The way the sun sets earlier in the winter. Would Sun get tired more easily in the winter? Does Moon have a blue moon phase that makes him feel down at the drop of a hat? Because same, guys, same.

Not getting over these guys any time soon I guess.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hi. I’m sending this anonymously but if tumblr glitches and it isn’t anonymous please don’t post this because I’m absolutely completely entirely mortified.

I’m 20 FtM. About a year and a half ago, when I moved out and started at college, I discovered fandom, and began to get really into reading fics on AO3. My parents had heavily restricted my internet access growing up, and as new adult I began to discovered the barrage of content online.

Soon enough, I was spending about an hour or two every night reading smut fics. I never thought anything of it, because, well, it’s just words, it’s not *actually* porn, right?

Recently I did start watching some explicit videos but tried to limit myself to only once or twice a month because the shame I felt as well as the strange dissatisfaction just wasn’t worth it.

After doing some research, I found a study that said that watching porn for more than an hour a week was unhealthy. I thought, yeah, okay, fair enough.

Then I realised: does my fanfiction reading count as pornography?

I kept thinking to myself that because it was text it didn’t count, but —does it? Is that the reason that lately I’ve been feeling strangely dissatisfied and empty after reading/watching? Will I feel like this when I eventually have sex?? (still a virgin, mainly for dysphoria reasons)

I found all this stuff online that says porn addictions can screw you over for life, that you can’t find sexual satisfaction with a partner.

Should I cut back?

I don’t normally masturbate while consuming porn. I feel too ashamed. I normally just sit there and read/watch.

Am I a porn addict?????? Should I quit reading smut? Help.

If you can’t tell, I wasn’t raised in a very sex positive environment and I feel very ashamed. I don’t really know who to talk to and I just feel very guilty so I’m resorting to an anonymous ask on Tumblr.

If you read this, thank you for taking the time. I appreciate it.

— Jason

hi Jason,

I don't think you're a porn addict. I think you're probably just an anxious 20 year old from a pretty restrictive background and now that you have a little more freedom you're kind of nervous about it, which is very normal.

I want to be super clear: written porn is porn. porn is any sexually explicit material designed to titillate; it's existed since WAY before the moving picture existed and it will exist long after the internet has crumbled to dust. people like porn! and it's okay to like porn. the text-based stuff is particularly high on the list of porn that's pretty unambiguously fine, morally-speaking, because you never have to worry that the performer you're watching has had their video stolen by pornhub or that, god forbid, anyone onscreen isn't a willing participant, but I want to be super clear that liking sexually explicit photos or videos of real people is also 100% fine.

obviously I have no idea what study you read, but I'd be cautious about any study being boiled down to such black and white, attention-grabbing headlines. you can interpret a study to mean virtually anything if you want to, and there are a lot of interest groups with a vested interest in demonizing porn. if reading smutty fan fic makes you happy and isn't interfering with the rest of your life, you should do that.

unfortunately it sounds like it's not making you happy lately, dissatisfied and empty feelings. in the kindest way possible, I don't think much of that is being caused by the porn itself. it sounds like it's coming from your gnawing worry that you're a porn addict. maybe it's best to take a little step away from porn and smutty fic for a while, if only until you feel able to engage with it without feeling bad.

also, speaking of porn addiction: that's a very dubious condition, and one that's not scientifically or medically recognized. to be certain, people can develop a reliance on porn that disrupts their daily function and can wreak havoc on their lives, but that's true of anything that causes your brain to spit out happy chemicals. anything that become a maladaptive coping mechanism, including and especially things that are fine and even necessary in small doses. sleeping, exercising, and going shopping are all things that can be life-ruining if done to harmful excess, but that doesn't mean you're doing anything wrong if you like to sleep in, go for runs, or browse your favorite online stores every once in a while.

if reading smut isn't causing you to skip out on your more important obligations, fail to take care of yourself, or bringing on bankruptcy, I think you're probably alright. the biggest danger I see here is you beating yourself over the head with your own anxiety about this, which may be a sign that it's a good idea to take a step back for entirely different reasons than you were worried about.

[murainhell]

You know? I really want to know more about Lilith, because I find her a very interesting character and I feel like the fandom is being a bit mean to her.

Most of what we know about her is what Charlie tells us in the little story, and as her daughter I'm going to assume that the story is embellished. But even if the details are not precise, there are some facts that make me think a lot about the timeline of events with Lilith and Lucifer.

I mean, it seems like Lucifer's heartbreak with humanity started pretty early on, and I guess that quickly led to depression (the spanish dub uses "he lost his will to LIVE"). It's something that has been there for most of his time in Hell.

In the meantime, Lilith thrived and is ‘to blame’ for Hell taking its shape and sinners gaining power. She inspired everyone to build and achieve new things.

That's two very opposite positions, and I honestly won't hold it against Lilith for being disappointed with Lucifer; she wanted to do the best she could with the limited opportunities they had, and her own partner was apathetic and wanted nothing to do with the other humans in their realm. Living with a depressed person, especially one who is telling you that your dreams or ideas aren't going to work, is complicated, and we don't know how long they stayed that way.

Isolating him is not the answer, especially when it deprives Lucifer of seeing his own daughter, but I can understand that Lilith thought she was doing the best for Charlie and they could resume the relationship later if he tried (when Lilith disappears it is Charlie who has to reach out to him).

From the way Charlie presents the events, the exterminations are a direct response to Lilith and her actions. A massacre that Lucifer accepts. At this point I imagine Charlie was born, as his main concern is to ensure that those born in Hell cannot be touched by angels. Charlie is safe.

The thing is. The hellborn are safe. You know who isn't? Lilith.

Were Lilith and Lucifer together by then? Maybe not and that's why he didn't care about her. Maybe yes and this resolution to the overpopulation problem (really, extermination of hypothetical armies) was the last straw.

Why is she in Heaven? What was her deal with Adam? Why do I keep thinking of Adam as the typical guy who sees his ex and tries to win her back or get some favours or some stupid shit like that instead of ignoring her?

Look, we don't have any information, but what if Lilith was cornered years ago and Adam took the opportunity to ‘kidnap’ her. What if Lilith is a prisoner? Because come on, Heaven sure is the place where your prison will be a beautiful beach. Why wouldn't she contact her own daughter, who is so proud of keeping her mother's dream alive?* Maybe they won't let her communicate with anyone. Until now, since Lute is demanding her to talk to Charlie to stop her plan.

* What dream, because it could be that Charlie heard her mother looking for a solution to the exterminations, although perhaps she misunderstood how Lilith wanted to handle it. The hotel seems to be Charlie's thing.

I don't know, I just see so many people think she's super evil, that she abandoned everyone, that she hates Lucifer and wants to destroy everything. And, I mean, maybe! Hope she'll have fun while doing it! But there's also that other option that she's surviving as best she can in a dificult position and we'll see what happens in S2.

[thewellwithnobottom]

I Think He Knows

Author’s Note: Remember when Sam got locked in his coffin on set? This fic asks- what if it was both of them? 😉

Enjoy!

A one-shot for now, unless people really like it. Then I may have a few more chapters up my sleeve…

⚜️ The lid closes on the vampires’ cuddle session and someone yells, “Cut! That was great. Everyone take five and we’ll go again.” Sam and Jacob just smile at each other in the dimly lit coffin. They make no effort to move. They’re used to this by now and usually just chat during these small breaks, until the scene is reset. This time, they giggle about how Jacob’s sleeve got caught on the latch as he was closing the lid and almost messed up the take.

“It’s not my fault, this fabric snags on everything!” Sam is delighted, as he often is, listening to Jacob talk. There is something so different about him. He just exudes an energy that Sam finds electrifying. And Jacob, in turn, is often equally captivated by Sam. Those blue eyes of his contain depths that Jacob could drown in.

Theirs was a whirlwind friendship, you could say. They first connected over Zoom for the chemistry reads and clicked instantly. And once they met in person, well..

They were like two magnetic pieces of a puzzle, interlocking perfectly. They formed a fast and tight bond. An unlikely pairing, to be sure, given how different their backgrounds were. But despite that, the two shared so many common interests and similar ways of thinking, that they couldn’t help but bond quickly.

They bonded so well, in fact, that it wasn’t long before the rumors started to swirl within the fandom. People were picking up on a certain.. energy in their interviews and photoshoots. Truly, the two could not keep their eyes off each other. Could not seem to keep from smiling or laughing whenever they were together. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that they were completely enamored with one another. Even their co-stars and others who worked with them would openly comment on it! They didn’t seem to mind, though. They took it all in stride, even coining their own real life ship name- Jam Reiderson.

“It’s been a bit long, hasn’t it?” Sam remarks after about 15 minutes have gone by. They had been so wrapped up in their conversation that they hadn’t even noticed that the set had gone quiet. “Hey, guys? We almost ready?” Jacob called out, to no response.

“Damn. Do you think they went to lunch and forgot about us?”

Sam just shrugs a little. “Let’s find out.” He reaches for the latch to open the lid, but it won’t release. He tries it again. It won’t budge.

“Hmm. It appears to be stuck.”

“What?” There is a slight panic to Jacob’s voice. He is admittedly the tiniest bit claustrophobic, but it affects him more when he’s alone in his coffin than it does when he’s in one with Sam. He tries not to look too closely at that.

“It’s just jammed, I’m sure. Let me try.” Jacob squirms around as best he can in the limited space available to him, now facing away from Sam, to try to jiggle the handle free. It’s no use. He doesn’t have any more luck than Sam did.

“HEY!” He bangs on the lid of the coffin with his fist. “Can someone give us a hand? We’re stuck in here!”

After a few more attempts at banging and shouting to get their attention, Sam gently squeezes his shoulder. “I think we’ll just have to wait, mon cher.” Sometimes Sam slips into Lestat mode without even realizing it. Jacob never minds. He takes a deep breath and rolls back over to face his co-star. “Guess you’re right. Sorry. You know how I can get in tight spaces sometimes..”

Sam just nods, a peaceful smile in place, but Jacob could swear he sports a smirk for just a half-second. A trick of the light, perhaps.

Neither of them say anything more for a few moments. It’s a bit awkward now. Even though the two are very close and not at all uncomfortable with one another, this situation is.. different. Usually when they hang out in the coffin, they know it will only be for a few minutes, at most. But now..? Well, it will be at least an hour for lunch. Maybe longer. Jacob’s breath hitches unevenly. Of course Sam notices. “Are you alright, Jacob? Do you need me to distract you?”

Jacob bites his lip nervously, nodding a bit. Sam smiles and takes Jacob’s hand, lacing their fingers together and stroking his thumb over the darker skin. “You know I love it in here, in the quiet dark. Sometimes I nap in my coffin during breaks.” He chuckles softly. Jacob scoots in just a little closer. “Would it help if I held you?” Sam asks. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Sam gathers Jacob into his arms, bringing his head to rest on Sam’s broad chest. Jacob can hear the steady thump of Sam’s heart and it does calm him. But he can’t deny that the proximity, the darkness, Sam’s slow breathing, the intimacy of just the two of them together in here, all of it.. has Jacob’s pulse starting to race. In the day to day, they can pretend this part, this.. extra layer to their relationship, isn’t there. That they really are just friends and nothing more..

But it has become much harder to deny in this moment. Especially when Sam’s heart starts to beat faster as well.

For a long while, neither of them move. Or speak. As if afraid any action will irrevocably change the course of their entire relationship. Hell, their entire world.

But then.. slowly.. Sam lifts a hand to Jacob’s head, and begins to comb his fingers through Jacob’s short curls. A small shiver runs through Jacob’s body. Then his hand is on the back of his neck, Sam’s acrylic nails lightly scratching the skin there.

And it feels fucking incredible. ‘I should stop this’, Jacob thinks to himself. Instead, he whimpers softly. His cheeks immediately flame in embarrassment and yet.. he still can’t bring himself to do anything that would course-correct this situation. Instead, he just makes it worse by lifting his own hand to comb his fingers through those glorious blonde locks. A deep rumbling can be heard in Sam’s chest at that. Jacob lifts his head to meet Sam’s eyes, finally feeling a little brave. “What are we doing?” he whispers.

“I don’t know..” comes Sam’s breathy reply. They hold each other’s gaze for a moment, then Jacob shifts a little more, up onto Sam’s chest. Slowly.. ever so slowly.. he leans in. Giving Sam every opportunity to say something. To stop this.

He doesn’t.

The moment Jacob’s lips meet his own, Sam is utterly lost. This is exactly why he had tried to avoid this for so long. Because he just knew that if they ever crossed this line, Sam would fall headlong into the well with no bottom and happily drown there. His heart nearly explodes in his chest as he kisses him back, slipping his arms around his best friend and holding him tight. The invisible string that had held them together was now rapidly turning into a very thick, very strong cord that would be damn near impossible to sever.

The kiss just keeps going and going, neither one of them willing to stop now that they’re finally in the moment they’ve both dreamt about since they laid eyes on one another. Mingled moans fill the coffin as their tongues dance together and their hearts start beating in sync. Hands wander as best they can in the cramped space, Jacob managing to get one under Sam’s shirt to feel those abs he’s lusted over for so long. He wishes he could lick them. He wishes he could do a lot of things that are just not possible at the moment, given space and time constraints.

Speaking of constraints, both of them are bursting at the seams (of their pants). They begin to groan and rut against each other. Jacob pulling roughly on Sam’s hair. Sam sucking hungrily on Jacob’s neck, giving him his first non-work hickey. When their mouths meet again, the kiss is so aggressive that their teeth knock together at first. Jacob sucks on Sam’s tongue and he moans with desire, slipping his hands into the back of Jacob’s pajama pants, digging his pointed nails into the other man’s ass. And just when they are about to explode from all this pent-up energy..

BAM BAM BAM!

A loud knock on the coffin startles the fuck out of both of them and has them scrambling apart from one another as best they can.

“Oh my god, you guys, we are SO sorry!!” One of the assistants is speaking to them through the wood. “Are you okay in there? We’ll have you out in no time, okay? Just hang tight!”

Apparently, she had already tried to open the coffin when she heard noises coming from inside. The two had been so wrapped up in each other, they hadn’t even heard her attempt. As they hear the click of her heels walking away, they stare at each other for a long moment, then dissolve into giggles. “Oh my god, that could have been SO bad.” Sam nods in agreement. “I know..”

There was so much more to be said. So much they needed to talk about. But for now, the sound of the lock being jimmied and the coffin lid creaking open put a pause on all of that. They squint their eyes against the sudden intrusion of the bright stage lights, but between them, hidden away from the sight of others, their hands remain clasped together.

“You two need a break? Want to get out and stretch your legs? Or are you ready to go again?”

The two men looked at each other and smiled, squeezing each other’s hand. “We’re ready,” they said in unison.

Ever the consummate professionals. ⚜️

[chocolatepot]

Twitter is rapidly sinking as people are only allowed to look at it for about ten minutes a day, so I thought I would put together a post explaining the best way to get started on Mastodon! It can be an intimidating prospect as it's not as immediately user-friendly as Twitter or other corporate social media sites.

Selecting a server

The main difference between Mastodon and Twitter is that you don't just "sign up for Mastodon". Mastodon is effectively made up of hundreds of small sites (called "instances") that are all interconnected ("federated") and use the same interface. The instance you choose has only a minor effect on your experience. The main one to be aware of is that if an instance is known to be poorly moderated and have users who cause a lot of trouble, other instances may unlink from it ("defederate") and make it more difficult for people on it to interact with you. This is rare. The very big, unthemed instances like mastodon.social are more likely to have this problem than any fannish one, in my experience. (You can also make a personal choice to block an entire instance if you have an issue with it.)

The other effect is that each instance has its own universal feed of all users on it.

The sidebar looks almost exactly like Twitter's, except for "local" and "federated". Your home feed is just the people you follow. "Local" is everyone on your instance, and "federated" is everyone on any instance yours is federated with. The local feed is why it's worthwhile to choose an instance that has some sort of theme you're interested in, like fandom, tech, queer issues, history, etc.

The two main fannish instances I'm aware of are fandom.ink and federatedfandom.net. There's also wandering.shop but that seems to be more for writers, in my experience. If you want a different sort of instance, just google "[topic] mastodon instance" and you should find it.

Applying to your instance

Because instances are more tightly moderated than the rest of social media, you can't always immediately get into the one you want. (Though I suspect that many have opened up slightly as Twitter flails.) You may need to submit some kind of application and wait a few days.

If you know someone on the instance you want to join, they may be able to get you an invite code so you can skip the queue. I have unlimited invites for fandom.ink, hit me up if you want to join.

You can also join an instance that's currently taking new accounts and then transfer into the one you want later. For the impatient souls.

Posting

The mechanics of posting are just like Twitter's.

You type in the box, you hit "toot" (I know), and out it goes. You may notice that you get a 500 character limit! This is nice.

If you add an image, make sure to add alt text. Not including alt text may get you flamed or shamed. You can also make a poll, set privacy levels, and add a content/spoiler/trigger warning that will require people to click through to see the text.

Use of hashtags is strongly encouraged on Mastodon. I've seen some talk praising Tumblr's style of having a separate field for tags and suggesting Mastodon add that, but I don't know if it'll happen. But unlike Twitter, there's an earnest culture of incorporating tags into your text (eg "I just bought a new #fountainpen") and following tags to get posts about different topics. This is the main way to find people with similar interests to follow, outside of your local feed.

It's also Mastodon culture to write an introductory post with your interests, including hashtags, so that people can find you.

Something else to be aware of is that you can edit your posts! If anyone has already rt'd ("boosted") them - they will just get a notification of your edit.

You cannot qrt on Mastodon at this time. It's a hotly debated topic. You will have to settle for boosting and then replying, or making your own post with context and linking to the post you want to qrt.

Following other people

If the person you want to follow is on your instance, that's all well and good. Click on their name, go to their profile, click the "follow" button.

If they are not on your instance, you need to make sure that you're accessing them through your instance. Clicking on their name from your federated feed, or if someone has boosted them onto your home feed, will automatically take you to the version of their profile on your instance. Also all well and good.

If you get to their profile from somewhere else, such as a direct link from another social media platform, that's a problem. If you try to follow, their instance will bleat at you that you don't have an account. There are two ways to get around this.

One is to paste their entire username (eg "@chocolatepot@fandom.ink") into the search bar on your instance, from your home feed. The other is to navigate to "http://[your server address]/[their whole username]" in your address bar. Both will take you to the same place.

[novamariestark]

A Hunter and Her Demon - Crowley

Summary: You have had a thing for Crowley since you met him. He always flirts with you. But it can't happen? Can it?

Warnings: NSFW! SMUT, piv (unprotected), oral (m+f), bad writing 🤣

Word count: 3428

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Crowley x Winchester!Reader

Oh God. You thought as the warm droplets glide down the surface of your back. Just once, you wanted to get through a week without having to hunt something, just relax, and act like an actual 23-year-old woman. But no. That sure as hell was never going to happen.

Nope. The best thing in your life right now was a crappy shower in a cheap ass motel. But you weren’t going to complain. Especially when the hot water was easing some of your pain.

Your head fell back, moans and groans slipping from your slips as you feel the water massage the pain.

“My, what lovely sounds,” you gasp at the sudden voice cutting through the water and drop the loofah you were holding. Your eyes followed it down to the floor as it lands with a thud.

You roll your eyes. You didn’t even have to open the door to know exactly who was behind the translucent glass. “Crowley! What the hell?! I’m in the shower!”

“Don’t worry, you aren’t bothering me, love,” he purred, his voice as smooth as silk laced with trouble. You tried to ignore the strange flutter that name stirred in your chest. Love. It wasn’t just the word itself that made your heart skip, but the way he said it.

I mean, he’s a demon. They can’t be trusted. You reminded yourself of that for the hundredth time, but something about this particular demon made it a little hard to believe. His interest in you didn’t make sense to him either.

You were related to Moose and Squirrel, after all. And demons weren’t supposed to like Winchesters.

But apparently, Crowley didn’t get that memo about you.

“Yeah, I’m sure I’m not,” you shot back, rolling your eyes as you turned back to the shower. Of course, you—a fully naked, dripping wet woman—wouldn’t be bothering him, “Is there a reason you’re disturbing my me time?”

“It’s been a while since I’ve heard your voice, love,” he replied, lie.

You scoffed, shaking your head, “We spoke two days ago, Crowley,”

“Felt longer,” he said, and his defence, it did. He didn’t know why you, a hunter, consumed so many of his daily thoughts. From the moment he met you, you fought his every remark, answering with your own witty retort. He knew then that he wanted you and when your brothers told him you were off limits. Well… that only made him want you more.

“What is it you really want, Crowley? Besides just pissing me off?”

“Is that what you believe my intention is?” he asked, the usual velvety cockiness in his voice wavering slightly. Well of course that’s what you thought. He can’t really have a thing for you, he’s a demon, you’re a hunter. They clearly don’t mix well. But no matter how many times you told yourself that, you still wanted the opposite. You wanted him. But you didn’t want to get hurt. Claw wounds, gunshot wounds, stab wounds you could deal with, but you didn’t think you’d survive a heartbreak. And that’s exactly what you would get if you gave it to him.

Or so you always believed.

“Love?”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”  you asked, your own usual cockiness faltering.

“It suits you,”

“Well so does Bitch, apparently,” you reply, you had lost count of the amount of times random women had called you that. Yeah sure, maybe sometimes your smart mouth deserved it but you only tell the truth, and in your defence, most of them were brainless. When you tell them not to do something because it’s dangerous, they do it, and that makes your job harder than it already is. That pisses you off.

“well” he paused, stretching out the word, “Maybe, but that’s one of the things I love about you,”

You whole body froze, “What?”

“i-I mean, like you, because of your wise mouth, a c-challenge really,”

“You know I don’t think I’ve ever known you to stutter, Crowley,” you said, raising an eyebrow even though he couldn’t see it, attempting to hide your surprise with your sarcasm.

He laughed, that low rumble sent a shiver down your spine, “You must bring it out of me, love,” he replied.

“I’m honoured, Crowley,” you remarked, as you turn your head to rinse out the remainder of your conditioner, “So, is there actually something you wanted? Help? Kill one of your minions that have outlived his usefulness?”

He didn’t answer but you could tell he was still there. You opened the door slightly, just enough to poke your head out, “Crowley?” you asked, when you noticed him staring at the floor, “You okay?”

He snapped out of it and looked up at you, “Yes, love,” he replied, he swallowed thickly and then just disappeared.

“Crowley?” you called but you didn’t get an answer. You turned back into the shower to switch it off and reached out a hand to grab the towel. You wrap it around yourself and step out. You walk towards the mirror, raising your hand to wipe the foggy surface and you come face to face with your reflection and it showed the sadness that you usually felt when Crowley disappeared. You looked away, telling yourself it was for the best and that if you gave in, the next time he’d leave you would feel 10 times worse.

You squeeze your hair over the sink, getting rid of the extra water, then picked up your brush to lightly comb the wet strands before putting it into a messy bun.

You headed back to the next room, where your change of clothes lay waiting for you. You quickly dry off and put on your fresh clothes. You grabbed your laptop and sat on your bed. Maybe searching for any possible jobs might keep your mind busy, but you were wrong. No matter what you did, you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

You sigh for the hundredth time tonight, picking up your laptop from your legs and placed it on the bed beside you. You reached over to your bedside table for your phone, scrolling through it until you reached his name. Your thumb hovers over it as you think about what you would say. What did you want to say? This is stupid. I want to see him.

As the internal verbal war continued in your mind, a voice came through your phone. Somehow you had called him without even realising it.

“Yes love?”

You swallowed the lump that was in your throat, and before you could talk yourself out of it, you just said what you wanted, “I want to see you,” you couldn’t resist anymore. You were tired of fighting it.

You didn’t receive anything but silence. ‘I knew it was a bad idea’

“You called, love?” you heard his voice, but it didn’t come from the phone. You slowly lower your arm and look towards where his voice came from. There he was. You smile and hang up the phone.

“Hi,” you smile, your voice quiet and shy, nothing like Crowley had ever heard before. You swing your legs off the bed and stood up, making your way towards him. No matter how many steps you took, the distance didn’t seem to close, so you walked quicker, not stopping until you were stood right in front of him.

His lips curved up into a small smile. This Crowley was different also. No witty remarks, no over the top flirting. You return the small smile before your arms move to circle his neck, pulling his lips to yours. The kiss was soft and sweet at first but as soon as the both of you stop listening to your thoughts about how this couldn’t happen, the kiss became more urgent, more desperate.

His hands move to your lower back, pressing your body further into his. You pulled away for air, even though you didn’t want to. You wanted more. You needed it. Your hands move to the lapels of his coat and you push it off his shoulders, he removes his hands from your back to let it drop to the floor and immediately they returned as soon as it was off.

But you weren’t done yet. Your hands then move to the button of his blazer, undoing it and pushing it off his shoulders just as you had done with his coat.

“You sure about this, love?” he asked, as the other piece of his clothing hits the ground. You nod and press your lips back to his.

He starts to walk you backwards, towards the bed. Before you know it, your back it the mattress and he was he was hovering over you. Your heart thundered in your chest, and your breath came out in shallow pants.

He leaned down and kissed you again, his hands moving to the hem of your crop vest, gently pushing it up to expose your midriff. You let out a soft gasp as his mouth left a trail of delicate kisses across your stomach.

Your body was begging for more. You felt his hands move up to cup your breasts and his thumbs gently brushed your hardened nipples through the thin material of your vest. You arched into the touch, letting out a low moan.

“There’s that beautiful sound again,” he said against your skin. He moved back up to kiss your lips. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him against your body, your hips moving against his, trying to get some form of friction to help dull the growing ache between your legs.

He didn’t need any more prompting. His hand slipped under the waistband of your shorts and found your warm, slick heat waiting for him. He groaned, his fingers sliding through your wetness, and you bucked your hips in response.

The sensation was almost too much, and he had barely touched you. You hadn’t been with anyone in so long, your line of work and always being around your brothers didn’t really leave you much time. Besides, you weren’t the one-night stand kind of girl.

You felt his thumb brush against your clit and your entire body tightened, your nails digging into the back of his neck as a moan tore from your throat. “Crowley, please,” you whimpered desperately against his ear.

He chuckled, his breath hot against your skin, “Patience, love.” He leaned down to kiss you again, but this time his hands found the bottom of your vest, tugging it up and over your head with surprising gentleness you never thought a demon could possess.

Your eyes remained locked with his as you reached back to unclasp your bra, letting it fall away and expose your breasts to the cool motel air. He took a moment to appreciate the view, his eyes darkening. You felt your cheeks warm as he took in the sight of you.

Then, with a quick movement, you wiggled out of your shorts, leaving you in only your drenched panties. The sight of you, so exposed and eager, seemed to make whatever control Crowley had snap. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear. Slowly, with a seductive smirk playing on his lips, he pulled them down your legs, exposing you completely to him.

He paused for a moment, before leaning down to kiss the sensitive flesh just above your sex. You gasped, your legs falling open for him as he kissed you again, his tongue swirling and teasing. Your hips rocked against his mouth, seeking more, needing more. His hands slid up your legs, pushing them further apart. His tongue dipped deeper into your folds, tasting you, exploring you.

His mouth was heavenly, and you knew that if he didn’t stop, you’d come just from his teasing. You reached down to tangle your fingers in his hair, gently guiding him closer.

Suddenly, your laptop slipped from the edge of the bed with a thud. You didn’t even realize your grip on the sheets had tightened so much that you had pushed it off. The sudden sound of plastic on the floor snapped you out of the haze momentarily.

“That was my laptop” you spoke through pants.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he murmured against your sensitive flesh. He continued kissing, nipping, sucking and soon enough, you didn’t care about your laptop. Your breathing grew more ragged and your hips continue to rock against his mouth.

“Y/N?” Dean’s voice called from the other side of the door, “You okay?”

You freeze, your heart in your throat. Oh shit.

You try and catch your breath, which is hard when Crowley refuses to stop feasting on you for one second, “Yeah,” you said as steady as you could, Crowley nipped at your soft flesh, and you had to bite your lip to stop the moan, “I just knocked my laptop on the floor, sorry”

“Alright, as long as you’re okay,” Dean said through the door.

“I am Deano, more than okay,” you reply, looking down at the demon between your legs, you can feel his smirk against you before he continued his meal. The sound of your brother’s footsteps retreating down the hall allowed you to relax and turn your focus back on Crowley.

You reach down to grasp the collar of his shirt, pulling him back up to your lips. You pull him to your lips, kissing him deeply, tasting yourself on his tongue. Your fingers start to unbutton his shirt, your knuckles brush against his chest as you continue to undo the buttons. Crowley pulls away from you slightly to throw the shirt off and comes back down to kiss your lips again.

You flip him over, so now you were on top, your hands rest on his now bare chest, your knees resting on the mattress on either side of his hips. He smirks up at you, licking his lips as he awaits your next move.

You start to grind against his hard length through his pants. He lets out a groan, his hands gripping your thighs. You lean down and kiss along his neck, feeling his pulse tap beneath your lips. You lean back onto your heels and move your hands to his belt, you bit your lip as you unbuckle them. You slide them off, along with his boxers, not wanting to wait any longer than needed.

You bit your lip as his cock sprang free, your mouth watering at the sight. You want to know how it feels on your tongue. You lean down and give it one gentle kiss before you wrap your hand around the base and start to stroke it. He groaned your name and you couldn’t resist any longer, you lean down and take him into your mouth, your hand continuing to work the base as your mouth bobs up and down his length. You suck harder, taking him deeper into your mouth, feeling his cock hit the back of your throat. His hand come up to your head, threading through your hair as he guides you. His hips buck up into your mouth, and you swirl your tongue around the tip.

You couldn't take it any longer, you pulled off him with a pop and climbed back up his body to straddle his hips once more, "I need you," you whispered, the desperation in your voice clear for anyone to see. Your hand reaches between the two of you, your hand wraps around him, positioning him at your entrance. You lower yourself onto him and you both let out a guttural moan.

You lean forward, your hands resting on his chest as you start to move your hips. His eyes never leaving yours as he watches you take control. Something he would only let you have. You start off slow, feeling him stretch and fill you completely. You let out a gasp as he hits your g-spot, your walls tightening around him. Crowley’s eyes fluttered closed briefly, his hands tightening around your hips, trying to keep from thrusting upwards and taking over.

You use him as your own personal stallion, your hips rocking back and forth, up and down, in a rhythm that has you seeing stars. His eyes never left you, watching you use him for your own pleasure, studying every move you make, every reaction you give. He reached up, his thumbs circling your nipples, and you threw your head back, whimpering out his name.

Your whimpers were music to his demonic ears.

The friction between your bodies was hot, like the fires of hell themselves, and every time he hit that one spot, you felt yourself inching closer to the edge.

You leaned back, changing the angle, and he hissed out a curse as your walls tightened around him even more. "You feel so good, love," he managed to get out through gritted teeth.

Crowley’s grip on your hips grew stronger, his own hips lifting to meet you as you rode him with everything you had.

The room was filled with the sounds of your skin against his, the wetness of your sex, and the ragged breaths and low moans that left both your lips. You lean down to capture his lips, his arms wrap around your waist and his hips thrust harder into you. Your head buried itself in his neck as you begin to feel your orgasm approaching. You clench around him and he growls, his hips jerking upward as he tries to push deeper and give you what you desperately wanted.

He flips you over onto your back, his eyes never leaving yours, a smug smirk playing on his lips as he takes over. He slams into you, harder and harder each time, the headboard smacking against the wall with every thrust.

His hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place as he drives into you with an force that was almost brutal. And you fucking loved it.

Your hands grip the sheets of the bed. You bite your lip, drawing blood, trying to silence yourself. You wanted to scream, you wanted to let out every noise to let him know exactly how good he was making you feel but you couldn’t because you know if you did, your brothers would come rushing in and you sure as hell didn’t want to be interrupted.

Crowley’s eyes never left yours as he watched you unravel beneath him. His new favourite sight. His thrusts grew more urgent as he chased his own climax. His teeth grazed the skin of your neck, “You’re so beautiful like this, love,”

You whimpered, your nails scratching at his back as he continued to fuck you like he owned you. And he did, because right now, you felt like you were his. He had ruined you for other men. No one else would ever be able to fuck you like this.

“Fuck, Crowley,” you gasped as he hammered into you, "I'm gonna..." Your back arched off the bed, your eyes rolling back into your head.

Crowley’s thrust grew more erratic, his own climax building rapidly. “Come for me, love,” he panted, and as if on command, your body obeyed. Your orgasm hit you, making your legs tremble and your core spasm around his cock.

He watched as the pleasure overtook you, the sight of your face twisted in pleasure was almost too much for him to handle. He slammed into you one last time before he too found his release, his hips stuttering as he filled you up with his hot, thick cum.

“You okay, love?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. He rolls off you, his cock slips out of you. He lies in the space beside you, pulling you so you’re lying on his chest.

"Will you stay?" you murmured into the quiet, your voice barely a whisper. His heartbeat was still pounding against your cheek, a rhythm that matched your own. For a moment, you were scared he would leave you again. But then his arms tightened around you.

"I'll always stay with you, love" Crowley assured you, his voice rumbling through his chest and into yours, his arms wrapping you tightly. You nuzzled closer, feeling the sticky mess between your legs and you laughed.

"I'm gonna need another shower," you giggled. Crowley chuckled, his chest rumbling beneath you. He kissed the top of your head.

"I'll join you this time," Crowley said, you nodded against his chest, a small smile playing on your lips.

[tossawary]

Metatags and Subtags on AO3

If you're an experienced Archive Of Our Own user, you probably know how these work. They are both super useful and intuitive. Years ago, even after using the site for a while, I still found a clear and direct explanation of parent tags, synonym tags, child tags, metatags, and subtags super helpful for improving the way that I tag my fics and the way that I search for fics (both including and excluding tags).

This is a little long, but I wanted to be thorough laying things out point by point, and include lots of images for visualization purposes. (I have included image descriptions in alt text, but have limited them to the relevant text of the screenshots rather than everything.)

Disclaimer: I am not a tag wrangler and have never been one. If you want the official introduction to tagging by the people who know what they're talking about, then you should visit the Archive's Frequently Asked Questions pages under the "About" menu.

There is an entire section on tags and how to use them. I didn't even screenshot all of it because I'm trying to save space.

Also under the "About" menu are the Wrangling Guidelines. These are written by tag wranglers for tag wranglers, available for anyone to read. The text can appear dense and full of jargon at first glance, but it's thorough, well-written, and very helpful to read through if you want to understand how the Archive volunteers sort tags.

The Wrangling Guidelines contain the official definitions of parent tags, child tags, synonym tags, metatags, child tags, and more. If you are interested in becoming a tag wrangler, the guidelines best explain the kind of work that the Archive's volunteers do.

What I am writing here is a more casual, amateur introduction from one user to another. This is an explanation with visuals included of what metatags and subtags are, how to find the metatags and subtags being used by other users, and how to use metatags and subtags to improve your own tagging and your searches.

You can't use or avoid tags that you don't know about, right? So, how are tags linked together? What is "tag nesting"?

I'm going to assume that you know what a tag is, how to tag a work, and how to search for works using a tag. And that you know about and that there's a difference between Media tags, Fandom tags, Relationship tags, Character tags, and Additional tags.

What are Parent Tags and Child Tags?

(Skip this section if you're only interested in metatags and subtags.)

There are two different "parent-child" systems within the Archive. The ones called "parent tags" and "child tags" are used to sort Fandom tags underneath Media tags, as well as Character, Relationship, and Additional tags underneath Fandom tags. The Archive FAQ page shows this nesting structure.

If you visit the tag page for the "The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System" Fandom tag, you will see that its parent tag is the "Books & Literature" Media tag.

This means that the "Scum Villain" fandom (child) shows up under the list of "Books & Literature" fandoms (parent).

It also means that when creating works or bookmarks, when typing tags into the search bar, canonical child tags (Characters, Relationships, Additional tags) of a parent tag (Fandom tag) appear first in the auto-complete options.

Browsing the child tags of the "Scum Villain" Fandom tag (or any Fandom tag) is actually really funny, honestly, because you get to see all the wild and sometimes kind of random things that people tag in their works specific to your fandom.

Synonym Tags (Tags with the same meaning)

On the tag page, you can also see all of the "synonym tags", listed under "tags with the same meaning". If anyone tags their works with these alternate ways of saying "The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System", then those works will still be sorted into the "Scum Villain" Fandom tag, because the tag wranglers have made these different tags synonyms to each other.

Synonym tags will also show up under searches using the canonical tag. Works tagged "Alt Verse" and works tagged "A bit AU" both show up when searching by the "Alternate Universe" tag.

Synonym tags mean that you don't have to know the precise canonical tag for every fandom or trope or alternate universe, because the tag wranglers are there to give you a little boost and add your tag to the right canonical tag if you didn't get it perfectly. I mean, I still think it's important to learn the basics of tagging and try your best not to make their lives harder, but you really, really don't have to stress about things being Perfect.

What are Metatags and Subtags?

The second "parent-child" system within the Archive are "metatags" and "subtags", which do not have to belong to a specific fandom. If you go to the "Alternate Universe" Additional tag page, then you will see that it is parented to "No Fandom".

These are the tag types that we're interested in right now!

Let's say that there are the Additional Tags of "Cookies" and "Baked Goods".

Tag wranglers will make "Cookies" a subtag of "Baked Goods" because cookies are a type of baked good.

"Baked Goods" is therefore now the metatag of "Cookies".

When you search for works using the "Baked Goods" Additional tag, all works tagged with "Cookies" will show up even if they aren't also tagged with "Baked Goods". Searching a tag will show you everything tagged with a subtag of that tag.

They aren't synonyms of each other, but they're related.

If you want to search the "Baked Goods" Additional tag because you want to read works tagged "Cakes" or "Pies" or other baked goods, but you don't want works tagged "Cookies" because you hate cookies, you will have to explicitly exclude that subtag using the search filters.

Here are the metatags and subtags of the "Cookies" Additional tag:

It's like "Food" is the parent, "Dessert & Sweets" is the child, "Baked Goods" is the grandchild, "Cookies" is the great-grandchild, and "Oreos" is the great-great-grandchild. They're all nested under each other.

Searching the "Food" Additional tag gives you the whole family nested here. Plus a whole bunch of other food-related subtags like "Cheeseburgers" and "Ice Cream".

Searching the "Cookies" Additional tag gives you just different types of cookies and no other types of food.

How can I use Metatags and Subtags?

Let's go to the tag cloud under the "Browse" menu. Go to the "Browse" menu and click on "Tags".

This will show you some of the most popular tags used on the Archive. I like to look at the tag cloud sometimes to help myself figure out what tags I should use on a work.

Let's say that I'm writing fanfiction that involves an intimate scene of two characters bathing together. (I was originally going to use a more serious tag as an example like "Abuse" but the screenshots of all the involved tags made me grimace, so let's go with "Bathing/Washing".) I'm going to click on the "Bathing/Washing" Additional tag. It's one of the tiny ones in the tag cloud above.

Click!

I am now being shown every work that has been tagged with "Bathing/Washing" or one of its subtags. I don't care about this right now. I want to see the metatags and subtags. I'm going to click on the underlined tag again at the top of this page, where it says "70,063 Works in Bathing/Washing".

Click!

Yes! Now I'm seeing parent tags (No Fandom) and tags with the same meaning. I'm going to scroll down to subtags.

Wow, there are a lot of sex tags in here, like "Hot Tub Sex" and "Shower Sex"! Unsurprising! But now I know that I can use both the "Bathing/Washing" metatag for what's generally happening and the "Bubble Bath" subtag if that's what specifically happening.

For a more serious tag like "Abuse", the tag page will show me subtags for all the different specific types of abuse that people regularly tag in their works. If I was writing fanfiction for some "Cinderella" fandom, then I might explore the "Abuse" metatag and decide to use the specific subtags "Verbal Abuse" and "Familial Abuse" to warn potential readers.

Maybe someone is able to read about physical abuse, but depictions of verbal abuse trigger them, so they might try to filter out "Verbal Abuse" specifically. And if someone is having a hard day and doesn't want to read about any kind of abuse, then filtering out the big "Abuse" metatag will remove all its subtags from search results including the specific tag of "Verbal Abuse".

You don't have to individually type out "Gaslighting" and "Domestic Violence" and "Dogfighting" one by one into the exclusion filters. They're all subtags of the "Abuse" metatag. Filtering out just one big tag gets rid of all of them.

If you figure out the big "boss" tags (the metatags), then you can make exclusion of tags more efficient. Or you can search across large groupings of loosely related tags more efficiently.

More examples of Metatags and Subtags

Filtering out the "Mental Health Issues" metatag will get rid of any work tagged with its subtags. This includes: "Depression" or "Mental Breakdown" or "Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder".

Or searching by the "Mental Health Issues" metatag will show you every work tagged with its subtags, if that's what you want to read about. Further examples of these subtags are "Bipolar Disorder" or "Schizophrenia".

Using the metatag "Alternate Universe - Science Fiction" will return works tagged with "Alternate Universe - Space" alongside works tagged with "Alternate Universe - Steampunk". Here are all the subtags of "Alternate Universe - Science Fiction":

I have used both "Alternate Universe - Science Fiction" and "Alternate Universe - Space Opera" on one work before, even though space opera is a subtag of sci-fi. I wanted to be specific about what kind of sci-fi it was, but I didn't think that everyone would know what a space opera was. I wanted to catch people who were looking specifically for Space Opera AUs as well as those generally browsing the metatag for all sorts of Science Fiction AUs.

A work tagged with "Alternate Universe - Flower Shop" will show up under "Alternate Universe - Retail". Retail AUs are subtags of the "Alternate Universe - Career" metatag. If you want to see your favorite characters working a (probably shitty modern) job, then searching by the metatag of "Alternate Universe - Career" will return to you Coffee Shop AUs, Teaching AUs, Nanny AUs, Journalism AUs, Hospital AUs, and anything else subtagged to that metatag.

The "Alternate Universe - Historical" tag has both "Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece" and "Alternate Universe - Regency" as subtags. Along with many, many more!

Using the metatag "Sexual Content" will bring me all the fics tagged specifically for any kind of sexual content. Excluding the metatag "Sexual Content" will banish every fic tagged with things like "Masturbation", "Blow Jobs", or even "Dirty Talk".

I find it useful to visit the tag cloud for ideas when I feel like there's a tag that my work needs that I'm forgetting. Like, oh, yes! There's "Substance Abuse" in my fic, so I will click on that for ideas on how to be more specific. There's a subtag called "Alcohol Abuse/Alcholism" and a subtag of that subtag called "Excessive Drinking". Perfect! There is excessive drinking in my story. Because I'm trying to use a limited number of tags for this particular fic and the story itself doesn't focus on the substance abuse being depicted, I will choose to only use the tag "Excessive Drinking" knowing that it will still show up under or be filtered out by its two metatags.

If I was writing a story that not only depicted excessive drinking but was specifically about substance abuse and alcoholism as the main subject matter, I might choose to use all three of those tags to underline the fact that this is a key, major element of my story.

Conclusion

Subtags and metatags can be great for conserving tag space. It can be like using five or more tags in just one tag! Your works have hidden tags that you may not have known about!

Using the tag cloud to search for interesting subtags can also be a cool way to find new and really specific works. Clicking on the "Alternate Universe" has taught me about cool AUs that I didn't know other people were writing in other fandoms! (It has also taught me about AUs that kind of weird me out. But that's life! Your kink is not my kink and that's okay.)

Yes, this all depends on whether or not people tag properly.

Yes, this depends on how the tag wranglers have organized things and it's an imperfect system led by its users. Sometimes tags are accidentally organized into the wrong metatag.

But it's pretty incredible that it works as well as it does. A big thank you to all of the Archive volunteers who make it work!

Seriously, go browse the "Alternate Universe" Additional tag page and look at all the subtags. Some of them are really funny. Did you know that there's a "Transmigration into Minecraft" Additional tag subtagged under "Alternate Universe"? I didn't. If I'd thought about it for long enough, based on what I know about the current popularity of Minecraft and Transmigration stories, I probably could have guessed that eventually. But I didn't! So I learned something today about what "the kids" are up to! I hope they're having fun.

[presidenthades]

Day 2 of HOTD adventures at New York Comic Con

As I mentioned in my Day 1 post, I did end up attending the HOTD panel today! It was live-streamed, so I won’t bother with a full recap because a lot of people have probably watched the recording. I’ll just list a few things I thought were highlights.

First of all, I just want to brag about my very excellent seat. I had a great view of the stage.

My personal highlights:

Before the panel began, an event host went around the room to get some sound bites from the audience. The most notable was a pair of women who cosplayed Rhaenys and Meleys. That’s right, someone cosplayed MELEYS. I wish I’d gotten photos, but believe me when I say the cosplays were amazing.

When Matt talked about how he’s attended many fan events, it made me think about how during his brief interactions for photos and autographs, he still made every fan feel seen and appreciated. I read online that Matt, who was scheduled to do Saturday autographs only until 7pm, stayed after 10pm to make sure everyone in line got their autographs. He probably is aware that his lines are generally really long, and he did his best to make the experience worth it even though he had limited time.

It was a CROWDED room, I think 4000 people? If Fabien seemed a little startled/awestruck at first, that’s why. He also seemed surprised (at the panel and during other fan interactions later) that people were genuinely happy to see him. I suspect this is due to some people letting their feelings about Criston seep into their real-life interactions with Fabien.

Cock jokes. 😂😂😂

The host asked Tom and Fabien if they became more comfortable going from Season 1 to Season 2. Not sure if the livestream caught it, but Tom let out an awkward giggle after that question. 👀

When the host asked Fabien how he would rate his job as Hand and then the question was tossed to the audience, the reception was indeed lackluster. Lots of people held up hands with just one or two fingers raised. Fabien seemed really sheepish about it, though Tom defended Criston’s character. It reminded me of a conversation I overheard while queuing before the panel. There was a group of friends in the queue, and one of them said she’d never seen HOTD and knew nothing about it. Her friends told her that if the panel asked any questions about Cole, “don’t cheer because we hate him.”

Matt and Fabien discussing Daemon and Criston’s homoerotic trysts/tension. 🔥

Tom’s spiel about how he can’t turn his back on Aegon as a character or else everyone else will turn their backs was interesting. Also about how digging into the reasons Aegon behaves the way he does is “an explanation not an excuse.” I think that’s a nuance which unfortunately some people disregard, and that leads to toxic interactions in the fandom.

Matt’s description of Viserys’s death instilling in Daemon “an odd level of psychosis and grief” was VERY interesting.

I can’t believe Matt forgot Milly’s name. 😂 And when Fabien recounted that he told her to join them at NYCC, Milly said “no fucking way.” 😂😂😂

I happened to get a photo when Tom announced he spilled water on his trousers and, in his own words, it looked like he pissed himself.

The way the actors talked AROUND their feelings about the script/writers was intriguing. 👀 I wonder if Matt will actually make requests of the writers…

When the host asked what other character the actors would like to play, Fabien had trouble thinking of an answer, so the host said, “You love your character so much!” Fabien IMMEDIATELY said, “Don’t put that out into the aether.” It seems like he doesn’t allow himself to publicly declare that he likes anything about his own character, because he knows how much vitriol that would generate. 🥺

Tom has never watched Lord of the Rings??? CANCEL HIM. (JK please don’t.)

When the host asked the actors what was the worst note a director had ever given them, Fabien said it would have to wait a few years after HOTD. So I am pretty sure his “worst note” was something during HOTD. 👀

Matt thinks chipmunks and mice are the same thing. 😭

When the panel ended, Matt and Tom left pretty quickly because their handlers were ushering them to their next event. Fabien lingered onstage to take a picture of the giant audience. People SWARMED to the stage, and Fabien was nice enough to sign one or two things that people were shoving up at him before he also had to leave.

I ended up having time to go to Fabien’s autograph session later that day. On the way, I saw that Matt’s line was ridiculously long again. Tom’s line was also huge, I think because he left early the day before, so people were all trying to get his autograph today.

When I arrived, Fabien was going on a break, so several of us early birds waited for him to come back. Fabien and Tom’s booths were next to each other, and we were able to see what Tom was doing. Tom seemed tired again but was still nice and friendly to all the fans. I’m 99% sure his girlfriend was sitting nearby. He definitely perked up when he paused to chat with her.

When Fabien came back from his break, fans in the lines for both actors started cheering for him. Tom also started cheering and clapping and going “whooooo!” It’s good to see that the HOTD cast really do like and have fun with each other. ❤️

Once it was my turn to get an autograph and selfie, I told Fabien that I enjoyed his performance at Rook’s Rest, and I named a few specific Cole moments (pre-battle speech, stumbling around afterwards looking traumatized). He seemed to really appreciate hearing that; I feel like he might get a lot of “I hate Criston but…” kind of comments.

My HOTD adventures today were more Fabien-centered, and I enjoyed it! From my brief interaction, I would say Fabien is friendly, sweet, and genuinely interested in fan interactions—although maybe a little nervous/scared about what people will say to his face.

TBH I’m tempted to write a Criston POV for my fic series. I got Fabien to autograph a print that his team provided, but it would’ve been nice to be able to have him autograph something more personal. I love it anyway!

Now I’m going to show off my GOT/HOTD merch!

Postcards:

Stained glass window cling print that looks gorgeous when it’s backlit:

Not GOT/HOTD-related, but I found out last minute that Naomi Novik, AKA Astolat, AKA one of the founders of AO3, was attending NYCC on Sunday to sign books. So I hightailed to that event. She signed my copy of her new book (including my AO3 username) and my Fanbinding pouch. 🥰 I told her how much I adore her writing and appreciate her contribution to fandom. She was lovely!!

That little squiggle she draws in the middle is a dragon doodle! For those who don’t know, Naomi’s first published book series was Temeraire, which is about the Napoleonic Wars but with dragons.

Later that day, I was shopping at a booth selling gorgeous headbands. Then I turned around, and there was Naomi again, shopping at the same booth!! She was off-duty doing her own thing, so I tried very hard to pretend I didn’t know who she was, even though I was fangirling inside. She really is a nerdy fan like the rest of us, enjoying her con experience. ❤️❤️❤️

Here’s one of the headbands I got:

All in all, a very successful and fun con! But now I desperately need to catch up on sleep and get back to my normal routine, so maybe I can resume writing. 🥲😴