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thefallennightmare · 3 days ago

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Just Pretend-Thirty One[FINALE]

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut(18+), star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse, talks of death, depressive thoughts, talks about not being able to conceive, and endometriosis.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: After over a year of writing this story, we finally are at the end. I have so many things to say yet I think I will bask in the moment for a little bit before I bore you with my emotions. So please take this for now: Thank you all so fucking much for your endless love and support for this silly little fic. It started off as a simple request(i hope you're still around 🎧 ). But it brought me so many friendships. I owe you all so much. Forever grateful for every single one of you.

My inbox will forever be open if you want to talk about the finale. 🖤

Huge thank you to my loves @blueskylinesx and @artificialbreezy for your endless support and helping me with the vows. I love you both immensely.

Angel and Mochi forever. 🪽🍡

Tags[CLOSED]: @blueskylinesx @missduffsblog @hayleylatour @sleepyomens @loeytuan98 @artificialbreezy @marvelousmal @bngurngheart @wild-child-7747 @calleyx13 @illmakeyousaywow @jaded-and-hollow-souls @shayzillaaaa @badomensls @shadowseve @collective-heartbreak @klutzy-kay24 @sorrowsofsilence @sweetlittlekitsune @shilohrosechicken @itsafullmoon @toospooktocute @niicoleleigh @thatchickwiththecamera @hoe-for-daddywise @whenthesummerdies @thisbicc @sammyjoeee @joe9cool @ozwriterchick @happi-goth @dsireland86 @cncohshit @heyyoplayer @rain-down-on-mee @respectfulrebel @malerieee @myownthoughts12 @noahsbong @laurpartyprogram @cloudykoookie @sideeyenoah @bellaboo967 @rxdlstgn @anthemheatwave @lobolocaamo @amelia-acero @karenfrancoespinosa-blog @collidewiththesavannah @xserenax-13 @supersquirrel1996 @themodern-daywednesday @oxythoughtin7715

THIS IS FICTION. NONE OF THIS IS REAL.

READER

ONE MONTH LATER.

“Noah,” I choked out while gazing up at the familiar home with tears filling my eyes.

He stood behind me with his arms wrapped around my waist and his chin resting on top of my head. We both swayed with the sudden rush of wind which caused Noah to hold me tighter, bringing the warmth from his body to my own.

“Are you mad?” He asked.

I couldn’t remove my eyes from the SOLD sign on the front yard of the familiar house and the key Chase was dangling in front of my face with a shit eating grin. A month ago on that night underneath the fairy lights, Noah proposed with the ring hanging on Kuma’s new collar. When I found the ring and looked over at Noah that night, he said two simple words.

“Marry me.”

I accepted before he finished the words, nearly tackling him to the ground. We connected that night underneath the fairy lights, his cock slowly dragging in and out of me while I rocked my hips up into him. Afterwards, we lay together tangled underneath the stars with the blanket barely covering us as we talked about our wedding plans. Our conversation during our many 2pm Facetime calls was something we both remembered fondly.

With a hesitant sigh, I nodded. "Japan is just such an important place to me, for several reasons. I have this little fantasy that I’d run off and get married there. It's so peaceful and quiet with my closest friends and family. One and done romance type shit."

Noah stiffened while scratching his chin.

"What? I freak you out, girlfriend?" | joked with a teasing smirk.

He chuckled nervously. "No. I- uh, who's the groom?"

"I don't know, never got that far. It's always been the small child in me's dream."

It took some time with many nights of wondering if I was worthy enough but I found my groom.

So when we broke the news to everyone two days later, wanting to bask in it privately beforehand, we told everyone that we’d be getting married in Japan. But with the future shows both Bad Omens and Hollow Souls had planned, we knew we would either have to push off the wedding for a couple years or get married before the shows.

Now, a month later, all of us were in Japan for our wedding that was happening in a few days. It wasn’t anything big and lavish, something small with our family; some old and some new.

“You bought my dad’s house?” I asked while peering over my shoulder at him.

Noah turned me around so I could face him head on and pressed my hands against his chest, the diamond on my left ring finger catching the light of the setting sun.

“I contacted a realtor shortly after we left about buying your dads house. It didn’t feel right letting it go to someone else. Your dad lived here for half of his life, Y/N. It deserves to stay in the family,” he explained.

I blew out a shaky breath while resting my head against his shoulder, those strong arms wrapping around me yet again.

“Thank you.”

Noah brushed his lips over my forehead. “You’re not mad I bought a house without asking you? Especially your dad’s house?”

“Not at all. I was at a dark point in my life the last time we were here that all I wanted was to forget about this place. But I’m so thankful you bought it,” I slipped my hands up his sweater over his stomach, grazing my nails over the warm skin.

Chase stepped into my view as my face was buried into Noah’s chest and he was twirling the key around his finger. “We replaced most of the furniture you had sold before you put it up on the market. Noah hired a paint crew to come through and put a fresh coat everywhere. It’s like a new house but still has the old bones of when your dad lived here, if that makes sense.”

Stepping out of Noah’s embrace, I pulled Chase in for a hug while smushing his face into my chest and kissed the top of his head which due to how tall he was made it difficult.

“I love you, bud.”

He grumbled under his breath while pushing me back into Noah’s embrace and adjusting his messed up shirt. Even with his teasing, I could see the love in his bright blue eyes.

“Keep it up and you’re walking yourself down the aisle,” Chase taunted and then turned on his heels to walk over to Malcolm, who had been unloading the rental car.

As the two of them shared a kiss, I called out to them while Noah and I continued to stand on the front step of our new home.

“I’m going to drag you guys down the aisle with me if I have too!”

Noah chuckled, brushing a kiss across my lips. “I can’t believe we’re getting married.”

“I know!” I giggled while wrapping my hands behind his neck. “Do you think we kind of jump the gun, though? We don’t have a venue. The only thing we have planned is my dress, your outfit, and the bridal party.”

“About that,” he sprawled his hands over my lower back as everyone else moved around us, bringing in their suitcases into the house.

It was decided that we all would stay here because we had plenty of space.

“How would you feel about getting married in the backyard? I know it might not be your dream wedding but I just thought it would be perfect. Lots of space for all of us, privacy fence so no one can spy on us, and the girls already have an idea on how to decorate it. If you’re alright with that. We don’t want you to feel pressured-.”

I placed a hand over Noah’s mouth to stop his rambling. “Mochi, you know you ramble when you’re nervous?”

He nodded as I continued. “We could literally get married in the bedroom with just us two and it would be my dream wedding.”

Matt suddenly appeared over Noah’s shoulder. “Technically it wouldn’t be legal unless you had someone who was ordained.”

Rolling my eyes, I let my hand drop from Noah’s mouth only to link my fingers with his as we began slowly walking up the rest of the way towards the front door with Matt.

“Speaking of being ordained, did you do what you needed to?” Noah asked.

“Yes. I am officially ordained in Japan,” Matt wore a big smile. “So I get to marry my best friends.”

“How’s Dove feeling?” I asked while motioning towards Matt’s cousin, who was off to the far side of the yard with Faye, having their own conversation.

“She’s okay, might take some time but she’ll get there,” Matt nodded while stuffing his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. “I appreciate you guys letting her come, given you don’t really know her.”

Noah waved him off. “Dove is your cousin, Matt. Which means she’s family, just like you.”

“I’ve always watched out for her when we were growing up so whatever I can do to protect her, I’ll do it.”

Once Matt left us to run towards Faye and Dove, I felt Noah squeeze my hand which caused me to gaze over at him with furrowed brows.

“Did your mom ever call you back?” He wondered.

I scoffed, doing my best not to let the anger I felt festering inside of me not ruin the whirlwind high we’d been feeling since our proposal last month.

“Nope. I left her a voicemail all three times that I called her to tell her what’s going on,” I answered.

Noah’s shoulders fell. “Does that make you upset?”

“Honestly?” I shrugged. “Not really. She’d never been around for any other big moments of my life. I have everyone here that’s important to me. That’s all that matters.”

With a smile, he motioned towards the house behind me. “Are you ready to go inside?”

“Oh,” I muttered as my shoulders fell because I realized that this would be the first time I stepped inside my dad’s place since his funeral.

Well, now I guess it would be our house.

Glancing over my shoulder to the front door less than a few feet in front of us, I gnawed on the inside of my cheek. Chase and Noah mentioned that it was basically a new house inside with a fresh coat of paint and new furniture. Deep down I knew that even though everything was new inside, my dad’s spirit would be lingering there.

“Yeah,” I finally nodded while looking back at him. “I’ve been telling myself it’s a fresh start, ya know?”

With a tender kiss to my hand, Noah led me through the front door as we took the first step together towards our future.

READER

“What the fuck!? JOE!” I yelled while pushing away from the table and running towards the familiar face that had just walked into the ramen restaurant.

Joe broke out in laughter as I nearly tackled him to the ground. “Hey kid.”

All of us were having a little makeshift rehearsal dinner at a ramen place that my dad loved the night before the wedding. We all made plans for when Bad Omens, ERRA, and Hollow Souls played Inkarceration. Then spent most of the night reminiscing on past memories. Every so often, I’d catch Noah looking at his phone before letting his gaze linger on the door of the restaurant but never thought much of it. I’d been in a deep conversation with Dove as she talked about what happened when she was on the road a month ago.

“What the hell are you doing in Japan?” I asked Joe after pulling away from our hug.

“Oh you know, I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d come by to say hello,” he playfully smirked.

I rolled my eyes as I felt Noah walk up beside me, giving Joe a handshake. “Thanks for coming. I know it was kind of last minute.”

Joe waved Noah off. “All good. Thank you guys for the invite.”

My stomach dropped when I realized from the craziness of the last month, I’d forgotten to invite one of my good friends. Forever thankful that Noah thought of it, I rose on my toes to place a kiss on his cheek.

“You thought of everything, huh?” I breathed in his ear.

Noah looked at me, something mischievous in his ember eyes. “You have no idea, angel.”

Dragging both Joe and Noah back to the table, we all eased back into the dinner and every so often I’d feel Noah squeeze my thigh before inching his fingers up closer to my core. With the amount of people in the house, we decided that we would hold off on sex until our wedding night.

Needless to say, both of us were extremely wound up but I kept telling myself that it would all be worth it in two nights' time when we finally had the house to ourselves.

Once we all finished dinner, we all piled out of the restaurant with a suggestion from Nicholas to check out the local market in town. While most of the group dispersed in their own directions, Noah and I found ourselves alone for the first time in hours.

“I’m so stuffed,” Noah groaned while rubbing a hand over his stomach.

I wrapped my arms tighter around him while burying my face into his chest as we walked down the market block in Japan.

“Are you happy you finally got your real ramen?” I teased while poking his chest.

With a playful roll of his eyes, Noah brushed a kiss along my forehead as we walked through the crowds of people that gathered at the market. Earlier before dinner, I’d bought about four different mangas that had characters on the cover that looked like Noah, something he made sure to grumble about.

“How the hell does this Yamada guy look like me?” He asked, utterly confused while holding up one of the mangas.

I snatched it from him, holding it close to my chest. “I bet if I found a picture of you with this exact hair cut and did a side by side comparison, you’d see I’m right. Too bad you cut your hair yesterday.”

Noah’s hair had been unruly lately so with the wedding coming up, he’d shaved the ends while still keeping the levi cut up top. Even though I'd always love his longer hair, I had to admit he looked absolutely gorgeous this way as well.

“Y/N, look,” Noah pulled us to a stop, his arms around my shoulder, and pointed in front of us.

Following his long finger, my eyes landed on a familiar older figure standing at one of the book tents in the market.

“It’s older you!” I squealed, a little too loudly.

The older gentleman looked over towards us at my outburst and when the look of remembrance crossed his face, he gave us a small wave.

“Well, look who it is!” Older Noah smiled while walking over to us. “What are the odds I’d run into you guys in Japan?”

Throughout the years, this was the third time we’d run into the older gentleman and his wife. The first time at the coffee shop back when Bad Omens and Hollow Souls toured together, the second time when Noah and I spent the afternoon at the pier where he bought me ice cream, and now here in Japan. Yet it was then that I noticed he was alone.

“Ah, yes,” Older Noah tapped the book against his chest when he noticed me looking around. “My Allie passed away a month ago.”

Both Noah and I sucked in a breath, something the older one waved off. “Please, no pity. She lived a good and long life before the Alzhiemers took her.”

“Are you in Japan alone?” Noah wondered.

“No,” the older one shook his head before adjusting his glasses. “My granddaughter, Lori is around here somewhere. What brings you two to Japan?”

Noah linked my hand in his and brough the ring up to his lips, peppering it in kisses. “We’re getting married.”

Older Noah’s eyes lit up at the news. “Well, good for you two! I still remember seeing you two in that coffee shop so long ago. The love in your eyes when you looked at her.”

A crimson hue covered Noah’s face and I giggled while swinging our hands together.

“I can’t explain it,” Old Noah began while flipping through the book he always seemed to have with him. “Something told me that I’d be running into you two again and soon which is why I made sure to bring this book with me. I read it to my Allie almost every night since it was her favorite.”

Through the hustle and bustle of the market crowd, we barely could hear the soft sob that fell from Older Noah’s lips before he continued. “Since there’s no use for it anymore, I think I’ll give it to you two as a wedding gift.”

Noah shook his head. “We can’t. That book means a lot to you-.”

“Nonsense,” Older Noah smiled. “Please take it. My Allie would want you to have it.”

Gently I took the old book from his shaking hands and immediately brought it to my chest. “Thank you, Noah. You barely know us but for you to trust us with something so special to you, means a lot.”

He stuffed his hands in the pocket of his tan coat. “You two remind me of me and Allie when we were young.”

My Noah pressed a kiss to the side of my head and pulled me into his chest. “Do you have any advice for us to make our marriage last as long as yours did?”

Older Noah gave us a faint smile while someone from behind him waved after him, calling his name.

“The second you stop loving each other and pretending that your love story isn't real is when one of you starts to think you’re not worthy of the other.”

Just as a young woman tapped her hand on Older Noah’s shoulder, Michael appeared next to me, almost out of breath.

“Whatever you do, don’t ask Dove for a race. She’s way to fucking fast,” he took a large gulp of air.

“Grandpa! You can’t just wander off like that,” the woman next to Older Noah chastised him while adjusting her red cat eye framed glasses.

Something in the air shifted around us when Michael and the woman, who I assumed was Lori the granddaughter, caught sight of each other. I could see something change inside of Michael as his eyes lit up with something I recognized so often in Noah’s eyes.

Tapping my Noah’s chest, I glanced over at him while Michael introduced himself to Older Noah and Lori.

“Think we can add two more to our guest list?” I asked.

Noah smirked. “Already two steps ahead of you, angel.”

NOAH

Hiding a yawn behind my hand, I eased back into the couch a bit more while stretching my long legs out farther. The house finally settled down, all of the girls retreating to the larger bedroom to do whatever girls did the night before a wedding while us guys were scattered throughout the living room. Joe was staying at a hotel down the road and he left a bit ago.

Both Nick’s and Jolly were on one of the couches trying to decide on what to watch. Matt was pacing the length of the kitchen practicing his speech for tomorrow. Chase and Malcolm were in the office working on a special project for Y/N for tomorrow. Davis and Bryan were playing a card game at the kitchen table.

Michael, however, was still out on his walk with Lori. After our encounter yesterday, they exchanged numbers and Michael asked her if she wanted to go out on a walk with him.

I was sitting on the couch with Jesse next to me as I scrolled through listings on my phone. Earlier today when Y/N and I were talking about our future after the wedding, the topic of where we would live came up. Even though we both knew Michael and Jesse would never kick us out now that we were married, Y/N felt it would be better for us as a couple if we finally had our own place together.

So after discussing it with her and promising I wouldn’t buy another house without her permission, I had been texting her every possible listing I found. Y/N’s main concern with every single one: Is it too far from everyone?

She knew my end goal in life, after everything settled down in Bad Omens so she understood why I kept sending her listings from far.

"Way down the road maybe one day in the future- to live in the middle of nowhere with a dog, cats, and a family of my own. In my wooden home that I built."

Jesse shifted on the couch next to me causing me to glance over at him. “How’s Salem and Kuma?”

“JT said they’re good. He took Kuma on a three mile run earlier so he’s currently passed out in the middle of his kitchen floor,” Jesse chuckled.

Since most of us were in Japan, we needed someone to watch Salem and Kuma. JT immediately offered when Jesse brought it up.

“Have you found a place yet?” He asked while motioning to my phone.

I sighed while dropping it to my lap so I could rub out the stress from my temples. “There is one that looks promising. Has everything we need. But the neighbors are about a mile away which is a little too close for us. We envision complete solace. Is that bad?”

He shook his head while running a hand through his unruly curls. “Not at all. It’s fine to want some privacy. I mean, it’s why you guys are thinking of moving out anyway.”

“I know,” I nodded before showing him the listing. “It wouldn’t be so bad if one of you guys moved in next door since the house next door is for sale too so maybe I could talk Y/N into buying both so we can have extra space. I emailed the relator earlier so now it’s the waiting game. ”

Over my laughter from my joke, I nearly missed the way Jesse let out a low hum as he clicked on the listing for the house next door.

THIRD PERSON POV

A soft breeze blew through the bright cherry blossom stems, bringing a sense of calm to everyone who sat, patiently waiting to watch a harmony of two people becoming one. They all waited with baited breath for Y/N to emerge from the back door while Noah stood at the end of the aisle with Matt. Noah radiated nerves and did his best to keep his shaking hands hidden behind his back so he didn’t run them through his hair. It had been slicked back perfectly for the wedding and he couldn’t risk messing it up before Y/N saw it.

Even though a lot of aspects of their wedding wasn’t traditional, Y/N still wanted to keep some parts. They hadn’t seen each other since late last night after Noah and her snuck into the bathroom for a sweet kiss goodnight. While the guys got ready, the girls went out for breakfast. When it was time for Y/N and the rest were time to get ready, all of the guys went for lunch. Anything they could to stay away from each other. Noah didn’t want to risk ruining her big moment so he did his best to stay far away from her; even if it was killing him on the inside.

Noah was dressed in a pair of black slacks and a white button up shirt, something he didn’t wear often. On the lapels of his dress shirt were angel wings pins that connected with a golden chain. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showcasing not only his tattoos but also the silver bracelet; the one that mirrored Y/N’s.

Matt bumped his shoulder with Noah’s. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m going to throw up all over my shoes,” he admitted with a staggered breath.

“Just take deep breaths like Dr. P instructs you. It’s just Y/N, no need to be nervous,” Matt assured Noah before pressing down the front of his shirt.

When Matt asked Y/N last night if he could still wear his hat during the ceremony, Faye immediately smacked him upside the head causing said hat to fall to the ground.

“These are your best friends, Matthew! You’re not wearing a hat during the ceremony!” Faye chastised him.

So now, here Matt was standing next to Noah, ready to officiate the wedding while wearing a black button up with pants to match and his blonde locks pulled back into a low bun. Faye couldn’t stop staring at him as she stood off to the side, one of Y/N’s bridesmaids.

Astrid was the maid of honor, followed by Tay and Faye as bridesmaids. On Noah’s side it was Nicholas as the best man, given their years of friendship and history. Jesse and Joakim were the other two groomsmen. Although they had a big family, Noah and Y/N decided on keeping the bridal party small.

The backyard was littered with vast amounts of Japanese lanterns that illuminated the space around them as the sun was beginning to set. There was a large cherry blossom tree in the yard where Noah stood, waiting for his bride. A few petals managed to fall off a branch with a sudden gust of wind and lingered on his shoulder. As he was about to brush them away, there was a soft voice that seemed to whisper in his ear, halting Noah. Just as the patio doors opened, a butterfly landed on the other shoulder and that voice from earlier spoke in his ear again.

“Think I’d miss this?”

Noah’s eyes snapped over to the two empty chairs in the front row. One with a picture of Y/N’s father and the other, the one that had his immediate attention, was a picture of Keaton.

“Glad you’re here, buddy,” Noah spoke under his breath.

The speakers that Matt had set up in the yard began to play a familiar tune; an instrumental version of You and I. Like a lot of other things in their wedding, the song that Y/N chose to walk down the aisle wasn't the typical song played at every other wedding. They wanted to be different, to show that their love was different than anyone else's. Their love story wasn’t like any told in existence or written in books.

The clouds above in the sun kissed sky opened up to let those rays paint the figure at the end of the aisle who was flanked by Chase on one side and Malcolm on the other. Suddenly, a flash of every moment between them flashed in Noah’s eyes; the good, the bad, the private ones. Everything they’d gone through the last couple years, from the moment he stepped off the tour bus to right now. It was all worth it.

Noah was worthy.

Y/N was worthy.

And now, in a matter of minutes, their bodies and souls would collide while they danced together in the moonlight as the stars aligned for them.

The moment Noah’s eyes locked with Y/N’s, all of the breath had been stolen from his lungs. He felt frozen in a time loop, trying to gather if this was real life and he wasn't still stuck in his dreamstate. Tears welled in his eyes as he let out a choked laugh when he saw Malcolm needing a moment before they began their walk towards Noah.

It was evident that everyone was affected in some way or another by seeing Y/N in her dress. Malcolm blew out a few deep breaths before he nodded over to Chase.

“I’m ready.”

Chase raised a brow. “You sure? We can wait another minute if you need.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “No the fuck we can’t. Noah is waiting for me.”

She was thankful her hair was pulled back by an angel wing hair clip with only a few strands falling in her face because the heat emanating from her body brought a thin sweat to her skin.

“Alright,” Malcolm hooked his arm with hers again. “Let’s get you married.”

With the song still playing, all three of them took a shared breath, before they began the walk down the shortened aisle. While everyone's eyes were on her, Y/N only had eyes for one person.

Noah.

Who currently had tears rolling down his face and made no effort to wipe them away. On one of his shoulders was a few petals from the cherry blossom tree above him while on the other shoulder there was a pretty blue butterfly that made no effort to move. She noticed the angel wings pin on the collar of his shirt as when her gaze fell to the buckle on Noah’s belt, Y/N sucked in a breath.

Her dad.

Noah wore her fathers belt buckle that had his initials. Her dad only wore it on special occasions and he had it in the family for the last 30 years.

As she walked past all of her friends, Joe gave her a wide smirk with a wink; an action that told her one thing.

Told ya you guys would be here.

For a brief moment, Y/N remembered how Joe was there for her when they toured together and assured her that the break between Noah and her were exactly what they needed to get to this moment.

The invisible string that bound them together began to vibrate deep within their chests as Y/N closed the distance to Noah. All day, she’d felt sick because of the nerves that ate away at her. But now that she stood in front of him, all the worry fell to the grass beneath her feet.

With kisses from Chase and Malcom to her cheeks, they gave Y/N away to Noah who took her hand happily.

“Hi, angel,” he let out a giggle.

“Hi yourself, mochi,” she blew out a shaky breath.

One they stood across from each other, Y/N handed her bouquet of Violets over to Astrid while Faye handed her something special.

“Before we get started, I have something for Matt,” Y/N spoke while placing a hat on top of Matt.

The word Officiant was bold and large in white letters on the front.

“Oh thank god,” Matt let out a long breath while adjusting the hat.

“There’s the Matt I know and love,” Y/N smiled before linking hands with Noah again. “Alright, now marry us already because I’m dying to kiss Noah.”

A chorus of laughter echoed in the backyard before finally settling and Matt cleared his throat. Even with the shaking of nerves from Noah, the butterfly on his shoulder didn’t falter and that’s when Y/N got a good look at the three dots on one of the wings. While Matt began his speech, a flutter of wings caught Y/N’s attention for a brief moment. A butterfly with black and yellow stripes landed on her wrist as she continued to hold Noah’s hand. She sucked in a breath when the realization hit what kind of butterfly it was.

A Japanese Luehdorfia.

Y/N’s father spent a lot of his free time while living in Japan studying butterflies and these ones were his favorite. With the butterfly on Noah’s shoulder and the one on her wrist, the final two guests had arrived.

“I love you,” Noah mouthed to her as Matt rambled on about how everyone has a soulmate in their life.

Y/N squeezed his hands. “I love you more.”

“Alright everyone knows how much I love to yap but now it’s time for Noah and Y/N to exchange their vows,” Matt smiled as he took a small step away from them to give them their own space.

Noah cleared his throat before taking a deep breath and did his best to calm the rapid beating of his heart.

“This is about to be long so please bear with me,” Noah jokes.

Jesse parted his lips to say something but with a sharp glare from Tay, he snapped his mouth shut.

“Angel, I never knew truly just how much my life would change when we got the call about us touring together. When we met, I was in a weird place in my life but never knew that in such a short amount of time that everything was going to be okay again. Every moment spent with you that summer was something I could never forget; I didn't want to forget. That was the summer I knew we'd be here, together.”

Y/N squeezed Noah’s hand, both of the butterflies still resting on them, as he continued on with his vows. Everyone realized that he wasn’t reading from something, everything he spoke came from his mind on the fly.

“There was always something that held us away from each other, whether we sucked at communicating. More so, I really sucked at communicating. Or the fear that I wasn't worthy to be loved so strongly by you. The world stopped moving when you walked out that hotel room door. Which is why I made a promise to myself never to see you walk away like that again. Everything that's happened in our lives has led us to this spot. I wrote some silly little words in a hotel room years ago "Would you say I'm worthy?" and not a day goes by where you don't find a way to show me I'm worthy of you. That bracelet on your arm where the butterfly rests, Every morning you're in my bed, every time you burst in the room to share with me an idea for a song or painting you have. After all that time, after all those tears and pain and wondering if I was worthy, I can finally say out loud that we both are worthy. I won't drown you out, and I will wait for you no matter where we are. You were my angel before, and you're my angel now and forever.”

Y/N brushed away the tears with the hand that didn’t have the butterfly resting on her. “Thank Hades for waterproof mascara.”

With his eyes lingering on the silver chain and locket hanging around Y/N’s neck, Noah continued on. “Y/N, I spent so much time overthinking the past, where it slipped away all the time we let escape from the both of us while we tried to heal ourselves so we could be better for each other. At first I succumbed, kept myself numb while I tried to deal with the fact that I may be losing you. But I was not okay, I was not alright. How many times have I survived trying to feel like I’m alive? Never being able to change and get outside of my own head. I thought I knew that you couldn’t change me anyway but that’s where I was wrong, Angel. Because you had already changed me.”

Something shifted in the air around everyone and the butterfly on Noah’s shoulder began flapping its wings, almost like it was ready to take off. Y/N saw something ignite in the dark embers of Noah’s eyes as he spoke the final words of his vows.

“I was a helpless mess but you stole my pain, Novocain. You made me feel alive the moment I first saw you. I know now that I no longer have to survive because now, I have something that makes living so worthy. It’s you. In time the price we pay in pain brought us eternal peace. There is no Angel without Mochi, and there is no Mochi without Angel. I look at you right here before me and the same voice that’s been with me from the first time I met you is singing that it’s all okay. Everything is okay Angel, it’s you and me until forever.”

Just as Noah finished his vows, the butterfly on his shoulder fluttered up into the air to fly around both of them before shooting up into the air.

Swallowing thickly, Y/N adjusted her wrist to grab the papers that Astrid held out to her and yet again, the butterfly on her wrist remained unmoving.

“How the fuck am I supposed to follow that?” She chuckled.

“You can’t,” Noah winked.

Playfully rolling her eyes, Y/N took a centering breath and began reading from the papers in her hands.

“Noah, or Mochi if you will, I was stuck in an endless cycle of never knowing what love truly felt like. I spent so many days and nights wondering when I would bloom. The day I stepped off that bus and saw your face is when I started. I couldn't help myself but wonder if the look in your eyes was real or not, I was so scared you wouldn't see me for more than what everyone made me out to be. Yet you never saw that version of me that people created. You only saw me.”

“That day in the hotel when I walked out, I felt my world break. I knew at that moment it was you and only you but I was so scared I wouldn't be what you wanted or needed. I was so worried I was holding you back from the life you dreamt so heavily of because of my condition. You never saw the endometriosis, you never held those struggles against me. You love me despite all my faults.”

“Those are not faults, Y/N,” Noah wiped a tear away from her face.

Leaning into his palm, she pressed a tender kiss. “I know. It took a lot of sessions with Dr. Poulos for me to realize that I can't let my condition define me, shout out to her for that and put my head on straight.”

Everyone let out a small chuckle of laughter as Older Noah watched with a faint smile on his lips because he knew how well his Allie would relate with Y/N and their shared conditions. But with his granddaughter sitting next to him, Older Noah knew that a miracle could happen for them as well.

“I came from a broken home and was made to believe on one side that I wouldn’t get this; would get this life I created on my own and with you. I was told that no one would love me despite my condition. Not only you, Noah, but everyone here never saw me differently. You all took me in like one of your own, took Chase and Malcolm in. You all were a family but let us in on that first day of tour.”

Bryan snapped away picture after picture, cementing these vows forever with something Y/N and Noah can look back on. Especially when the butterfly on her wrist finally moved for the first time and now rested on her abdomen while Y/N spoke the final proclamation of her love for Noah.

“I always knew it was safer by your side and knew I just had to give it time. Chase and Malcolm always told me "if you can keep the love alive, you'll survive." It was so deep in my soul and I held on to that. Noah, from the moment I walked in your house for that party to the moment we finally admitted it was always going to be you and I. You will forever be worthy of my love. Every breath I take will be for you, from now until the last and after that, meet me in the epilogue so I can find that smile. Mochi, our stars aligned and I'll keep them there for as long as you let me.”

By now, there wasn’t a dry eye in the crowd, especially Nicholas who watched his best friend bounce on the soles of his feet. Noah was ready to kiss his bride. But first, they exchanged rings.

“Well,” Matt cleared his throat, doing his best to mask his emotions. “We’re going to skip over the part where I ask if anyone objects because we all have been waiting for this to happen. So with that being said, by all the powers invented and by that one website, I announce you two husband and wife. Noah, for the love of the Gods, kiss your bride!”

Right as Noah reached for Y/N’s waist, the butterfly fluttered away in the same path the other had done moments ago. With a wink, Noah pulled her to his chest and brushed his lips across hers. It was slow at first, both savoring the moment as the world faded away around them, then all at once the pace increased as the invisible string between them tied the final knot to connect their souls once and for all.

“Mrs. Sebastian,” Noah brushed his nose across Y/N’s.

She broke out in a fit of giggles while wrapping her arms around Noah’s waist to bury her face in his chest. “About fucking time.”

THIRD PERSON POV

The moonlight glimmered high in the sky, bathing everyone in the yard in a luminescent glow. It was well into the evening, everyone calming down from the long day of celebration.

After the ceremony, Noah and Y/N immediately went into the house where Nicholas had his tattoo equipment set up. They each got one simple tattoo on the inside of their wrists.

Worthy.

Now they sat together in one of the large outdoor chairs with Y/N in his lap as Noah buried his face in her neck. His heart would not stop beating wildly in his chest because finally, after all the hell they overcame, they were finally where they were meant to be. They danced together for the first time as husband and wife to Just Pretend-Acoustic; the same version Noah sang to her the night he proposed.

Jolly and Astrid hung off to a secluded corner of the yard while he rested a hand over her bump. She was only a few months along but now she was showing which caused Jolly to not stop wearing that bright smile. He was beyond proud of the family he created.

Faye and Matt were in the middle of the made-up dance floor as she rambled on about all the little ideas she loved about the wedding and how she wanted their wedding to go. Matt listened intently without saying a word, simply watching his fiancé with adoration in his eyes.

Tay was sitting with Dove, both of them giggling about something, while Jesse watched from a distance. He’d been planning things all evening in his head, mapping out his life and it was evident in the way his heart lurched in his throat when Tay continued to laugh that he was feeling an emotion that was new for him. Closing the distance between them, Jesse extended a hand towards Tay, who titled his head at him.

“May I have this dance?” He asked as Repay by The Plot In You began playing through the speakers.

Tay glanced over to Dove, feeling bad it was interrupting their conversation but the brunette waved her off. “If you don’t dance with your man, I’ll push you into him.”

Once Tay was finally in Jesse’s embrace, they began to slowly move about the yard and he brushed his forehead against hers.

“I love you,” he proclaimed for the first time.

Tay’s eyes widened and leaned away from Jesse to get a good look in those chocolate boba eyes. “What?”

He cupped her cheek to lay a small yet forceful kiss to her lips. “I love you so much, darlin. It’s fine if you don’t feel the same, I just needed to-.”

“I love you too. So fucking much, Jesse. I’ve realized it for a while but was so afraid you wouldn’t feel the same yet.”

As new love blossomed, new beginnings were starting for Michael and Lori as they sat in front of the bonfire as they divulged about themselves to each other. Bryan and Davis offered to take Older Noah back to the hotel and were booking rooms for everyone else because for the first time in a week since they first arrived, Noah and Y/N would be alone.

“I have a surprise for you,” Y/N whispered in Noah’s ear as she continued to sit on his lap.

“You do?” His brows peaked as his cock twitched underneath her.

She said nothing, simply pressed a kiss to his cheek before sauntering into the house.

READER

I shook out the nerves from my hands as I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror. The white lace stood out against my complexion and I double checked to make sure my breasts were pressed up perfectly. Turning to the side slightly, I peaked at my ass that was barely covered by the end of the lingerie. When I found it in the store a few weeks ago, I knew immediately I had to buy it from the angel wings alone.

I never wore anything like this for Noah before which is why I was extremely nervous. While our sex life was extraordinary, I was still very unsure on how he felt about me dressing up in something like this.

“Stop being a pussy!” I pointed at my reflection. “You’re hot. You married THE Noah Sebastian!”

I quickly shook my head. “No, he married THE Y/N L/N, well now Sebastian. But that’s beside the point. You are going to bring this man to his knees. He loves you and would fuck you even if you wore a potato sack.”

Realizing I was still rambling to myself, I shook my head and quickly spritzed myself with my perfume; Noah’s new favorite of mine that smelled like peaches. Fluffing out my hair, I gave my reflection a curt nod before flipping off the lights and stepping out of the bathroom. The house was quiet, only the floor creaking beneath my feet as I crossed the hallway into the bedroom Noah and I dubbed ours. We decided to make my dads bedroom the new office, the old office our bedroom, and still keep the guest room the same.

As I walked into the bedroom, I saw Noah sitting on the end of the bed with his gaze down on the floor between his feet. He’d changed out of his wedding attire and wore only a pair of red briefs. His shoulders rose and fell with each deep breath as his hair dangled in his face but made no effort to brush it away. When he played with the new black band around his ring finger, I took in the sight of the new tattoo on the inside of his wrist, the same one I had.

Worthy.

Clearing my throat, I stood a few inches in front of Noah with my hands behind my back, trying hard not to knock into the ends of the angel wings. His head snapped up from the floor and when they landed on my form, his pupils bled darkness.

“Uh, do you like it?” I shifted on my feet, waiting for his answer.

Noah was still silent, only keeping his eyes on my breasts that were barely hidden underneath the white lace. He made no move towards me which made me start to second guess this idea.

“This was stupid,” I muttered before turning on my heels.

A hand shot out to grasp my hand, halting me, and when I glanced back I saw Noah staring up at me.

“You’re a literal fucking angel,” he mused before yanking me down to his lap.

The head of his cock pressed against the thin material of his briefs and I bit back a moan when I felt it brush along my core.

“My angel,” Noah praised while fingering the end of the wings. “Keep these on.”

I raised a brow at him while brushing away the hair from his face. “The wings doing it for you, Mochi? Do you want to chase me through the woods while you wear your mask and fuck me with them on?”

“Don’t tempt me,” he groaned while dragging his teeth over my collar bone.

With his hands on my hips, Noah guided me along his cock as I let my head fall back in bliss. I’d been wound up all week due to us deciding not to be sexual with each other and knew that if he even breathed on my clit, I would orgasm.

I gently pushed him away from me to lay him down on the bed while I fell to my knees between his legs.

“Oh fuck,” Noah ground out while letting his head fall to the bed as I dragged his briefs down the length of his thick legs.

My lips parted over the leaking head of his cock with my fingers wrapping around the base. I hummed in pure delight as the salty taste lingered on my lips when I sank my mouth down on him.

"So good," I praised looking up at him through my lashes

He groaned with pleasure as I took my time with him. I wanted to savor the way he always tasted.

"Angel," Noah warned. “Please. I need you."

I popped off of him and wiped away the drool from my chin as I rose to my feet slowly. "Is Noah Sebastian begging?"

“For my wife? Yes I am.”

"Well, who am I to make you wait," I straddled his hips once again.

Neither of us wanted to wait any longer so he undone the buttons of the lingerie teddy to expose my bare cunt to his awaiting cock. His eyes snapped up to me for a moment so I gave him a nod right before he guided himself past my wetness, the thickness of his cock filling me completely. It pulsed inside of me, earning a desperate groan.

Noah's eyes fluttered shut as his lips parted, his hands gripping my hips so tight I was sure there would be bruises in the morning. But I didn't care. Having him finally inside of me felt so fucking good.

Having my husband inside of me made my soul come alive.

I rocked my hips against him with my swollen clit rubbing against his warm stomach and I shivered at the sensation, the coil in my stomach pulling taut. Noah’s eyes jumped to the silver chain around my neck and gripped it with force to pull my lips down to his, devouring me

“Mine,” Noah demanded while fucking up into me.

I let out a silent yell when he hit the spot that made my spine ignite but the chain tightened around my throat, nearly cutting off my airway.

“Say it,” he panted. “Say your mine, Y/N.”

“I’m yours, Noah. Forever yours.”

He attacked my lips with so much force I had to rest a hand on his chest, our tongues exploring each other's mouths in a kiss so vicious it made my head spin. Noah's hips finally moved in a slow, steady stroke, and I whined into the kiss.

"More," I mumbled into his lips.

"Fuck, angel." He groaned. "It's too good."

I cupped his face to look at him. "Cum for me, Noah. Fill me up, please. I need you to cum with me.”

That's all he needed before his arms wrapped around my back, nearly crushing the angel wings, pulling me closer to his chest as his hips snapped up into me in violent strokes, the head of his cock hitting that perfect spot. I yelled out my pleasure, exposing my neck to Noah who immediately attacked it with his teeth leaving bite marks all along it.

My body hummed in a prayer-like awaking, the flames and heat burning high in my belly as my organs crested higher; so fucking high I was afraid I would combust into nothing but a matter of air. His name fell from my lips in devotion, a woman praying to her husband, and my toes curled when I finally came apart, Noah slowly falling behind me.

THIRD PERSON POV

As Y/N and Noah lay together in a mess of tangled limbs, both coming down from their shared high, he let the sounds of her deep breathing ease him into his own slumber. Her discarded lingerie and wings lay scattered on the ground and Noah made a mental note of asking Y/N on how she felt about hanging them up in their home.

He couldn’t stop watching her sleep with a smile that no one could erase. She was his. Finally Y/N was his wife and he would do whatever he could to make her happy.

Long fingers dragged up and down the snake tattoo on her back, almost like how he had the night they first lay together. The long day was coming to an end, the new chapter of their lives began tomorrow, which caused Noah to sweat all over because he couldn’t help but let the anxious thoughts creep in.

Take a breath, Noah. It’s okay.

Doing just that, he eased into the warmth Y/N proved and rested a hand on her stomach, finally letting himself succumb to the darkness.

“Love you, mochi,” she mumbled into the skin of his chest.

He kissed her forehead. “Love you more, angel.”

The rain that surrounded them in the beginning was no longer something that drowned them. It couldn’t rain all the time. Their love was forever unbroken. It created lines upon lines of memories, some old and some new. It brought about friendships that tied together as one family. All because of a miracle that had yet to present itself. They were no longer afraid of the wars that were waged against their sins. They weren’t okay in the beginning but their love proved that they no longer had to pretend. They waited each other out and Y/N would forever stay until morning.

All because they both were worthy.

#tina talks #bad omens #noah sebastian #just pretend noah sebastian #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fics #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian fluff

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hotguycomiczine · 2 days ago

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Is this comic anyhow related to the Double Hearted comic? Until now I thought it was the same thing 😅

Hello! The HOTGUY COMICS Zinethology has no relation to the Double Hearted comics, nor is it connected to its narrative or universe. Instead, the story and lore were conceptualized by all of our contributors and then crafted into a linear story by the moderators— hence why there are gaps in the HGCZ timeline between pieces, as well as a few questions left unanswered for the future. Very little of the HGCZ universe was decided before our contributors had the chance to collaborate on it during our creation period, which mainly took place in the full month we set for character discussion and the mutation polls. While our head moderator TJ @definitelynotshouting came up with the initial worldbuilding before the zinethology began, the only things really established were the setting, Hotguy's backstory as an actor, the concept of mutations as a whole, and the TCG— all purely as a jumping off point to get our contributors started.

It's likely that the reason DDVAU and HGCZ are often confused is because the creators of DDVAU, @kitsuneisi and @xmaruu11, were actually guest contributors for HGCZ itself! However, their lovely contribution to our zinethology was not related in any way to Double Hearted, and instead takes place early in the vigilante careers of Hotguy and Cuteguy for HGCZ's specific world. That being said, we're honored that they chose to be a part of our project on top of everything else they were working on at the time, so we're pleased to see their work get so much love.

In short, this zinethology's story was built by the community across every single one of our contributors! We're insanely grateful for their passion and commitment to telling this story, because it would have been nowhere near as rich and incredible a tapestry if they had not been so driven. Thank you for the question, and cheers!

#asks #zine questions #ddvau #hotguy comics zine #HGCZ #double hearted

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straylightdream · 4 hours ago

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This series is honestly what made me want to write Seventeen stories. This entire series and sequel series AND its connecting universe is a literal masterpiece. This probably one of my favorite all times series EVER.

city lights series | joshua hong (M) [finished]

Joshua Hong could be many things. For one, he is your next door neighbour. He is a rockstar, a relentless tease, a menace. But, ironically, he is always willing to lend a hand whenever you need it, regardless of the nature of your desires.

✮ pairings: joshua hong x female reader ✮ genre: smut [18+] ✮ aus: rock singer joshua, neighbours with benefits ✮ word count: 177k

▸ playlist ♡

navigation post part i | insomnia The last bit of sanity in your mind vanished the moment before you asked your hot neighbour to be your fuck buddy. Whatever prompted you to muster the courage to get the words out was something you didn't know you had inside you. But he wasn't saying no.

part ii | reverie Joshua Hong was many things aside from your hot neighbour—he was a menace, a relentless tease. But most importantly, he was the first guy to ever make you feel wanted. And you were yet to know how dangerous that was.

part iii | pillow talk Deep down, you knew you were growing an attachment to... whatever this was. Joshua was not intoxicating, you were wrong about that, he was addictive.

part iv | lunacy You could no longer hide your infatuation over Joshua Hong. It was becoming painfully obvious, though you weren't sure to what extent he was aware of this. Or if he even cared, for that matter.

part v | stargazing Joshua should've known the minute he saw you standing outside his door for the first time. Then, maybe he would've gotten the opportunity to make things right with you. But no, he let his hedonistic ways get in the way first. Now, will he get the opportunity to make things right with you?

part vi | blue hour If there was a guideline to how to be a fuckbuddy, you were sure you had already broke every rule in the book. It was ridiculous at this point, and you were so sure that Joshua might be catching all of your signs already, because you couldn't be more obvious. But oh, Joshua is only but a man.

part vii | lullaby For months, you've been hiding how you really felt about your fuckbuddy and the remorse for deceiving him can be sickening. For both of you.

part viii | after dark It all started with a deal with your next door neighbor, Joshua Hong. A little harmless deal that surprisingly led you to finding love; and a part of yourself that you were still discovering.

part viii | after dark pt. ii

side chapter | 3:14 AM

part ix | badsleeper › finale For as long as you've been with Joshua, you've always had this... fantasy. And your boyfriend isn't one to not let you indulge.

last update: 20.04.2024 (❁´◡`❁)

#fic rec #seventeen rec #seventeen recommendations #Joshua rec

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itacats · 1 day ago

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Butcher Shop Connection

FT: Simon x gn!reader

Warnings: DV, abuse, please let me know if anything else should be here!��

SUM: A budding connection begins to blossom between Simon and you, their shy smiles and shared moments brimming with unspoken possibilities. When a dead car battery leaves you stranded, Simon steps in, his quiet confidence and kindness turning an inconvenience into something unexpectedly meaningful.

But as you drive home, the warmth of your encounter fades, replaced by the chilling weight of the life waiting for you—a stark reminder that some connections, no matter how promising, come with complications far beyond their control.

A/N: I had so much fun writing Simon in this chapter, awkwardly stepping out of his shy bubble while trying to play it cool. (Spoiler: he’s not as smooth as he thinks, but that’s why we love him, right?) And let’s be real, who hasn’t had a moment where a dead car battery somehow turns into the universe tossing you a lifeline?

So, buckle up (pun intended) as this story continues to simmer. Things are heating up, and trust me, there’s so much more to come. Thanks for sticking with me—let’s keep going, shall we?

Part 1 Part 3

Part 2 - Between the Counter and the Hood

Simon continues to beam at you during your visits to the shop, but you can also see the shyness in his demeanor, as if your presence ignites something deeper inside him than mere affection for a customer. You grin back, your bubbly energy contrasting warmly with his more reserved nature. There’s a gentle push and pull whenever you’re together, where each visit builds a connection that neither of you dares to name.

Simon leans forward slightly, his forearms braced against the counter, and his eyes glimmer with an unfamiliar boldness. "Maybe I could take a lunch break around the same time you stop by next time?" he says, his voice lowering into a playful whisper. It’s almost conspiratorial, as though he’s inviting you into a world that exists just for the two of you.

The suggestion catches you off guard—not because you didn’t hope for something like this, but because hearing it out loud transforms a quiet fantasy into a thrilling possibility. Your cheeks flush with a warmth that spreads to your chest, and a swarm of butterflies takes flight inside you.

"I’d love that!" you blurt out, your voice a little higher than intended. You bite your lip, trying to suppress the giggle threatening to escape, but it’s impossible to hide the grin spreading across your face.

Simon’s smile deepens at your reaction, his confidence flickering just enough to remind you of his endearing shyness. He leans back, pretending to fiddle with a stack of receipts, but you can see the slight blush dusting his cheeks. It’s in these moments—when his quiet, reserved demeanor gives way to something more vulnerable—that you feel the magnetic pull toward him most strongly.

As you leave the shop, your mind is already spinning with possibilities. What would lunch with Simon look like? You imagine sitting across from him at a small café, his laugh rumbling softly as the conversation drifts from light banter to deeper topics. You imagine the way his eyes might linger on yours, unhurried and full of warmth. The thought fills you with an unfamiliar kind of hope, one that feels fragile but exhilarating.

But life always has other plans.

You stand in the parking lot, your hands trembling slightly as you twist the key in the ignition again. Nothing. The engine remains silent, as stubborn as the wave of frustration that rises in your chest. You groan, leaning back against the seat and staring at the darkening sky.

What would Tom say? The thought snakes its way into your mind, uninvited and unwelcome. You shiver, not from the evening chill but from the heaviness that accompanies his name. The idea of calling him for help sends a cold dread through your veins.

Before you can spiral further, a voice cuts through the haze.

"Need a hand?"

You turn, startled, to find Simon standing a few feet away, his expression equal parts concern and determination. The sight of him here, outside the familiar confines of the butcher shop, is disarming. His apron is gone, replaced by a simple button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, the tattoos on his forearms more visible now.

"Simon?" you say, your voice a mix of surprise and relief.

He offers a small, lopsided smile, stepping closer. "I saw you sitting here. Thought I’d check if everything’s okay."

The tension in your shoulders eases as you nod. "It’s my car battery. I think it’s dead."

Simon rolls up his sleeves a bit further, revealing more of those scars and tattoos that feel like glimpses into a story you’re desperate to know. "Let’s take a look," he says, his tone steady and reassuring.

Together, you pop the hood and inspect the battery, Simon walking you through the troubleshooting steps with an easy confidence that puts you at ease. The task is mundane, but somehow, it feels like more. It’s in the way he hands you the flashlight without being asked, the way his voice stays calm even when you fumble with a tool, the way he chuckles when your hair falls into your eyes, and he casually brushes it back.

Despite the frustration of the situation, laughter fills the space between you. It feels natural, unforced, like you’re discovering a rhythm that belongs only to the two of you. The world seems to shrink to just this moment: the two of you bathed in the soft glow of a streetlamp, your breath visible in the cool evening air.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the engine sputters to life. The sound is triumphant, and you both let out matching cheers. Simon leans back, wiping his hands on his jeans, and grins at you.

"Victory," he says, his voice tinged with pride and humor.

"Thanks to you," you reply, your gratitude laced with something deeper—admiration, maybe even longing.

As you climb into your now-functioning car, Simon rests his hands on the edge of the open window. For a moment, it feels like there’s something more he wants to say, something unspoken hanging in the air between you. But instead, he simply smiles and steps back.

"Drive safe," he says softly.

You nod, your heart unexpectedly heavy as you watch him walk away, his silhouette fading into the shadows of the parking lot. The warmth of his presence lingers even as you drive off, but as you approach home, it’s replaced by the familiar weight of dread.

Here's the current post schedule with some upcoming stories to look forward to!

#bt extra #call of duty #fanfic #cod fic #cod #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #butcher shop connection #gn reader

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jackethockey · 2 days ago

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Taste

Warnings: smut, sex scene, explicit language

Word count: 8917

Summary: In summary, this fic tells the tale of two childhood friends, you and Jack Hughes, whose lives diverge post-high school when you pursue sports management at Rutgers University while Jack stays in Michigan. Despite your promise to stay in touch, the distance and the arrival of Jack's girlfriend, Lily, cause your communication to fade. Years later, after graduating and beginning your career, you serendipitously reconnect when you become an intern for the New Jersey Devils, where Jack is a new recruit. The bond you once had is rekindled, growing stronger than ever as you navigate the challenges of his NHL career and your own aspirations. As you both grow closer with each other again, the unthinkable happens between you for the better.

this fic takes a bit to get into the good stuff but its all part of lore i swear

“He pins you down on the carpet, makes paintings with his tongue.”

One sun-kissed afternoon in the final weeks of high school, you and Jack sat cross-legged on the lush grass of your backyard, surrounded by the comforting hum of the nearby lake and the whispers of the swaying trees. You had known Jack since kindergarten, his mischievous grin and boundless energy an ever-present force in your life. His brothers, Quinn and Luke, were like additional siblings, their bond with you strong but distinctly different from the one you shared with Jack. As you both gazed into the horizon, the future loomed large, a canvas of unexplored possibilities. You spoke of your dream to study sports management at Rutgers University in New Jersey, your voice filled with excitement and a touch of apprehension. Jack, ever the free spirit, shrugged off the notion of college, his eyes gleaming with plans of adventure and self-discovery. You knew the distance would test your friendship, but you also knew that pursuing your passion was essential. With a bittersweet smile, you promised to stay in touch, no matter how far apart life would take you.

As the day of your departure approached, the air grew thick with the weight of unspoken words and the sweet nostalgia of shared memories. You gathered Jack, Quinn, and Luke in your living room, the space that had hosted countless laughs and heart-to-hearts over the years. Your eyes searched theirs, trying to capture every detail, to hold onto the essence of your friendship in the amber of your mind. You hugged Quinn and Luke tightly, feeling the warmth of their embraces and the reassurance that they would always be there, even if physically apart. Then, you turned to Jack, the one who knew you best, who had seen you at your highest highs and lowest lows. His eyes mirrored your own, a silent understanding passing between you. With a tremble in your voice, you promised to call, to email, to visit, to never let the miles come between you. He nodded solemnly, a gentle squeeze of your hand speaking louder than any words could. As you pulled away, the gravity of goodbye settled heavily on your heart.

The early days at Rutgers were filled with the comforting rhythm of your daily calls with Jack. His voice remained a constant through the cacophony of new experiences, a thread of home weaving through the fabric of your new life. You shared tales of your rigorous classes, the excitement of living in a dorm, and the thrill of exploring the East Coast. In return, he regaled you with stories of his new job at the local sports store, the weekend adventures with Quinn and Luke, and the occasional mischief that still found its way to him. The conversations grew longer, the laughter louder, and the connection between you remained unshaken.

Then, one fateful spring, Jack's voice grew distant. His calls grew less frequent, his texts more sporadic. You chalked it up to his busy work schedule and the natural ebb and flow of life, but as the months rolled by, the silence grew deafening. You had heard whispers of a girl, a new spark in his life, but you didn't let it bother you, not at first. You understood the need for space and the excitement of a burgeoning relationship. However, the gaps grew wider, the conversations shorter, and the ease you once shared became strained.

Her name was Lily, a girl with a laugh that could light up a room, according to Jack. He spoke of her in hushed tones, a secret joy that you felt you had no part in. Initially, you were happy for him, eager to meet the person who had captured his heart. But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, the realization sank in. The calls grew less about you and more about her, and soon, it seemed like Jack had forgotten the promise you had made to each other under the shade of the old oak tree back in Michigan. His stories shifted from tales of the three musketeers to tales of two, and you felt like a forgotten piece of the puzzle that no longer fit.

One day, without warning, the calls stopped altogether. Your messages went unanswered, your voice mails unreturned. The silence grew heavier than the books piled on your desk. You tried not to let it consume you, but the ache of his absence grew with each unanswered ring. The friendship that had been your compass now felt like a fading star, lost in the vast sky of change.

As you graduated from college, the memory of Jack's laughter and the warmth of his friendship had dimmed like an old photograph left in the sun. The promise of staying in touch had become a distant echo of a past that seemed so much simpler. You had moved on, grown stronger, found new friends, and chased your dreams, but the thought of Jack, of what could have been, remained a silent companion in the quiet corners of your heart.

And so, you stepped into the world beyond Rutgers, armed with your degree and the lessons of friendship, distance, and change. The story of you and Jack remained unfinished, a chapter that you hoped might one day be revisited, but for now, you had to accept that life had taken you on different paths, paths that no longer intersected as they once had. The future you had so eagerly discussed in your high school days had unfolded in ways you couldn't have imagined, leaving you with a bittersweet taste of nostalgia and a hope that the tapestry of fate had not yet been fully woven.

Following graduation, you threw yourself into job hunting with a fervor that mirrored your determination to keep Jack's memory at bay. After weeks of applications and interviews, a golden opportunity arose. The New Jersey Devils were looking for a new Sports Management intern. Although you did not know much about hockey, you still wanted to give it a chance which you would not regret.

The day of the interview was a whirlwind of nerves and excitement. You arrived at the Prudential Center dressed to impress, ready to tackle any challenge thrown your way. The interview went smoother than you could have hoped, your passion for sports resonating with the team's management. Before you knew it, you were being offered the position, and you eagerly accepted, eager to start your career in the bustling world of professional hockey.

On your first day, you were given a tour of the grand arena. The smell of fresh ice filled the air as you walked down the gleaming corridors, each step bringing you closer to the heart of the sport you started to love. As you approached the rink, the faint sound of skates slicing through the stillness grew louder, a rhythmic symphony that sent a thrill down your spine. The tour guide led you to the benches, explaining the layout of the area and the routines of the players during games. Your eyes widened as you looked out onto the ice, where a figure skated with a grace and familiarity that seemed almost surreal.

It was Jack. His eyes, once filled with the mirth of youth, now bore the focused intensity of a professional athlete. He was one of the new recruits for the Devils, his dreams of adventure and success intertwining with the sport you now cherished. As your gaze met his across the ice, the years of silence melted away, replaced with a mix of shock and elation. You watched as he skated towards you, his eyes lighting up with the same warmth you remembered from your childhood. The universe had played a cruel trick, but as Jack's hand reached out to give you a firm shake, you realized that perhaps it had also delivered a chance at redemption for the friendship that had once meant everything to you both.

The moment Jack's hand enveloped yours in a firm shake, the years of separation melted away like spring ice. His eyes searched yours for any trace of the hurt or anger that the silence had left behind. "I can't believe it's you," he exclaimed, the awe in his voice a balm to your bruised heart. "What are you doing here?" he asked, a hint of hope and confusion weaving through his words. You stumbled over your own, trying to explain your journey to Rutgers, your love for sports management, and the serendipity that had led you to the Devils. The tour guide looked on with a mix of curiosity and amusement, clearly not expecting this emotional reunion. As the reality of your shared destination sank in, Jack's smile grew wider, crinkling the corners of his eyes in a way that was as familiar as the warmth of a childhood summer. "Fate has a strange sense of humor, huh?" he said, his voice laced with wonder. With the sound of skates echoing around you, you both knew that the universe had thrown you a lifeline, a chance to bridge the gap that had grown between you. This unexpected reunion was more than just a coincidence; it was a testament to the unbreakable bond that had endured through the seasons of life. As you stood there, the rink a silent witness to your rekindled friendship, you couldn't help but feel that perhaps, just perhaps, the pages of your story had not been torn apart but merely folded over, waiting for the right moment to unfold once again.

The rest of that day at the Prudential Center passed in a blur of handshakes and introductions, Jack acting as your guide through the unfamiliar world of professional hockey. The players, coaches, and staff greeted you with curiosity and welcomed you into the fold, the buzz of the reunion reverberating through the hallowed halls. You watched in amazement as Jack moved with the confidence of a seasoned player, the grace of his movements on the ice a stark contrast to the nervousness you felt in your own skin. After the initial shock had worn off, you found your voice and shared your experiences at Rutgers, the internships you'd completed, and your hopes for the future. Jack listened intently, his eyes never leaving yours, as if trying to absorb every word, every memory you had missed sharing. You talked about his own journey, the sacrifices he'd made, the endless hours of practice, the scouts that had come and gone, until finally, the Devils had seen something in him that no one else had. His voice was filled with the same passion you had heard in your daily calls, but now it was for a sport, not just for adventure. The conversation flowed as easily as it had back in Michigan, the bond between you as strong as ever, despite the years that had tried to erode it.

As the arena emptied, Jack led you to the locker room, the sacred space where he now called home. The scent of sweat and victory hung heavy in the air, a testament to the battles waged on the ice. He pulled out his phone, thumb hovering over the screen, hesitating. "Do you... do you want to grab dinner?" he asked, the question tentative but hopeful. You nodded, unable to hide the smile that spread across your face. As you stepped out into the New Jersey night, the neon lights of the city reflecting off the puddles from a recent rain, it was as if you had been transported back to your teenage years. The distance between you had shrunk to nothing more than a heartbeat. You walked to a nearby diner, the same one you had dreamt about in the quiet dorm room nights when homesickness had hit the hardest. The comfort food and the familiar banter washed away the years, leaving only the warmth of friendship and the promise of a new chapter.

Over milkshakes and burgers, you delved deeper into each other's lives, sharing the stories that had shaped you both since that fateful goodbye. You spoke of the late-night study sessions, the friends that had come and gone, and the moments when you had doubted your path. Jack, in turn, regaled you with tales of the rinks he had played in, the coaches who had pushed him to his limits, and the quiet moments of triumph when he had scored the winning goal. Lily, the girl who had once felt like a wedge between you, was now a cherished memory, a stepping stone that had led him to the NHL. As you sat there, the chatter of the diner fading into the background, you realized that your friendship had not disappeared; it had merely evolved. It had grown stronger in the face of distance and change, ready to stand tall once more.

The hours melted away, and before you knew it, the diner's lights began to dim, signaling closing time. You exchanged numbers, promising to stay in touch this time without the need for daily reminders. As you stood outside the diner, the cool evening air a stark reminder of the real world waiting for you, Jack pulled you into a warm embrace, the kind that only a best friend can give. "Thank you for coming here," he murmured against your hair. "Thank you for not giving up on me."

You stepped back, smiling up at him, your eyes shining with unshed tears. "Thank you for being exactly where I needed you to be," you replied, the weight of his absence in your life lifting like a fog dispersing in the morning sun. With a final squeeze of his hand, you turned to walk away, the promise of a new dawn in your heart. The future stretched out before you, a thrilling unknown filled with the potential of reviving a friendship that had stood the test of time and distance. As you disappeared into the night, the echo of your laughter dancing in the air, you knew that no matter where life took you, the bond between you and Jack Hughes would never truly fade away.

The days that followed were a whirlwind of adjustments and rekindled camaraderie. Your internship with the Devils became a tapestry of long work hours and stolen moments with Jack. You found yourself drawn to the rhythm of the team, the roar of the crowd, and the thrill of each victory. Your friendship grew stronger with each shared meal and stolen glance, the threads of your past intertwining with the bright fibers of your newfound future. Jack introduced you to the players, who welcomed you into their tight-knit circle with the ease of old friends. You watched him practice, his dedication to the sport leaving you in awe, and in return, he sat through countless hours of your work, asking questions about contracts and marketing strategies with genuine interest. The dynamics of your relationship shifted, morphing from high school confidants to professional peers, each supporting the other's dreams. You saw him grow not just as a player but as a person, his maturity and perseverance inspiring you in ways you could never have imagined. And as the first game of the season approached, the excitement in the air was palpable, the anticipation of a new adventure you would navigate together, side by side.

The first game of the season was a whirlwind of emotions for you. From the electric energy in the locker room to the deafening roar of the crowd as Jack took the ice, you felt as though you were living a dream. You sat in the stands, your heart racing as the players skated out for the national anthem. The spotlight found Jack, and the camera zoomed in on his face, a mix of focus and exhilaration. You couldn't help but beam with pride, knowing that the boy who once shot pucks at your garage door was now living his dream before thousands of people. Throughout the game, you watched him glide across the rink with an ease that belied the complexity of the sport. Every pass, every shot, every strategic move was a testament to his talent and hard work. As the Devils scored their first goal, Jack's name echoed through the arena, and you felt your heart swell. This was more than just a job; it was a chance to be part of something greater, a chance to share in Jack's success.

During the intermissions, you found yourself pacing the corridors, a strange mix of nerves and excitement coursing through you. The air was thick with anticipation, and you could feel the pulse of the game resonating in every corner of the building. You watched as Jack's teammates slapped him on the back, sharing words of encouragement and strategy. The camaraderie was infectious, and you found yourself longing to be a part of it. You had always loved sports, but being behind the scenes of professional hockey was an experience you never could have imagined. The smell of the locker room, the sound of skates cutting through the ice, and the thunderous applause of the fans were now part of your new reality.

As the final buzzer sounded and the Devils secured their victory, you could feel the vibrations of the cheers in your chest. You rushed down to the locker room, eager to congratulate Jack. The moment you saw him, sweaty and exhausted, the grin on his face was worth every mile that had once separated you. He pulled you into a fierce hug, his eyes gleaming with happiness. "We did it," he said, and in that moment, you knew that the years of silence had not been wasted. Your friendship had weathered the storm of time and change, emerging stronger, ready to face whatever the future held.

The celebration was a blur of handshakes and congratulations, the air thick with the scent of victory and the promise of new beginnings. As the players filtered out, Jack grabbed your hand and led you back onto the ice. The lights had dimmed, and the rink was quiet, a stark contrast to the frenetic energy of the game. You looked around in wonder, feeling the cold bite of the ice beneath your feet as Jack skated around you, spinning in circles with the grace of a figure skater. "This is what it's all about," he said, his breath coming out in little puffs of mist. "The love of the game, the rush of the crowd, and knowing that no matter what happens out there, you've got someone cheering for you."

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words. In that moment, you realized that your paths had not diverged as much as you had feared. You were both chasing your dreams, just in different arenas. The bond between you had not been lost; it had merely transformed into something new, something that could withstand the tests of time and the challenges of adulthood. As you watched Jack pirouette on the ice, you knew that no matter where life took you, you would always be part of each other's stories, forever connected by the unbreakable thread of friendship that had been woven into the fabric of your lives.

With the echo of the final buzzer still ringing in your ears, you and Jack found yourselves back in the quiet of the now-deserted rink. The ice glistened under the soft glow of the arena lights, a serene stage where moments of triumph and defeat had unfolded just hours before. The air was cool and crisp, a stark contrast to the sticky warmth of the summer afternoons you'd spent together in Michigan. As you laced up your own skates, the leather a familiar comfort from your college days, you felt a surge of excitement. You had never been on the ice during a professional game, let alone had the chance to skate with a player of Jack's caliber. He offered his hand, and with a gentle pull, you found your balance on the unforgiving surface. The cold bit at your cheeks as you pushed off, the sound of your blades slicing through the ice a sweet symphony that resonated deep within. For a moment, you felt like you were back in time, two friends chasing each other around a local rink, laughter echoing off the walls.

But the reality was far grander than any childhood memory could ever be. Jack's movements were fluid, a dance of power and precision that spoke of the countless hours he had dedicated to this sport. As you clumsily attempted to keep up, you couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder at the journey that had led you both here. The friendship that had once been the cornerstone of your youth now stood tall and unshaken amidst the glitz and grind of professional hockey. Each stroke, each turn, brought back memories of shared dreams and whispered promises. And as you skated alongside him, you knew that no matter how different your paths had become, the heart of your friendship remained unchanged. This was more than a reunion; it was the start of a new chapter, one where you could both cheer each other on, no matter which side of the rink you stood.

Jack's eyes flickered to the clock on the wall, signaling that it was time to wrap up the night. "Why don't you come back to my place?" he suggested casually, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. The warmth of his hand still lingered from your earlier handshake, and as he led you off the ice, you found yourself nodding in agreement, curiosity and an undeniable attraction tugging at you. The ride to his apartment was filled with comfortable banter, the kind that comes from years of shared history. As you stepped into his space, the scent of his cologne mixed with the faint aroma of victory from the game still clinging to him, you couldn't help but notice how the atmosphere had shifted. The air grew thick with unspoken desire as you both removed your coats, your bodies now just a whisper apart. You turned to face him, and the intensity in his gaze was unmistakable. His eyes raked over you, the hunger in them making your pulse race. You felt your own attraction mirroring his, a magnetic pull that had been building unnoticed beneath the surface of your friendship.

You sat down on the couch, the leather cool against your skin, and Jack followed suit, his leg brushing yours. The TV flickered in the background, but the only thing you could focus on was the heat between you. You began to speak, but the words got caught in your throat as he leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek. The silence stretched, your eyes locked onto his, and the world around you seemed to fade away. You could feel the tension coil tighter with each passing second until it was almost unbearable. The sudden realization that this moment was more than just a friendship hangout hit you like a slap of cold water. You licked your lips, and Jack's gaze dropped to your mouth, his own parting slightly. It was as if you were both poised on the edge of a cliff, the anticipation of what could happen next making your heart race. Without a word, you reached up, your hand cupping his cheek, and he leaned into your touch, his eyes never leaving yours. The space between you closed, and when your lips finally met, it was with a fierce intensity that stole your breath away. The years of friendship had transformed into something new, something thrillingly intimate and overwhelming.

The kiss deepened, and you felt the heat of his hands as they wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. The fabric of your clothes seemed too restrictive, the layers too many. You tangled your fingers in his hair, the softness of it sending a jolt of electricity through your fingertips. You had no idea how long you stayed like that, lost in the kiss, but when you finally broke away, panting and flushed, you knew that there was no turning back. The line had been crossed, and you were both ready to explore the uncharted territory of your relationship. The rest of the night was a blur of passion and whispers, of discovering each other's bodies and souls in a way you never had before. And as you lay in his arms, the echoes of your love-making still resonating in the quiet apartment, you knew that this was just the beginning of a love story that had been written in the stars all along.

Jack's hands slid from your waist to your thighs, his grip firm as he effortlessly lifted you, making you straddle him. The sudden shift in position brought his hard, throbbing cock pressed against your pussy, the fabric of your clothes the only barrier to the intimate connection your bodies craved. You gasped into the kiss, the pressure of his arousal sending waves of heat through your core, making your pussy ache for more. You could feel your own wetness seeping through your panties, your body's response to the raw passion in his touch. His hands roamed up to cup your breasts, his thumbs teasing your nipples through your shirt, and you moaned, grinding down onto him. The friction was exquisite, the promise of what was to come a tantalizing whisper in the air. As you rocked your hips against him, you felt the urgency build, a desperate need to be closer, to feel every inch of him inside you. The world outside of Jack's embrace ceased to exist, and all you could focus on was the delicious pressure of his cock and the wetness that was pooling between your legs. The anticipation was unbearable, a sweet agony that made you whimper with need. You broke the kiss, panting, your eyes locked onto his, and you knew that this was the moment you had both been waiting for, the moment when the unspoken desires of your hearts would finally be laid bare.

Jack gently broke the kiss, his eyes never leaving yours as he wrapped his arms around your waist. With a smooth motion, he lifted you off the couch, setting you down on the plush carpet. You could feel the heat of his desire in the way he handled you, the gentle yet firm touch that sent shivers down your spine. He knelt before you, his hands moving to the button of your jeans. He undid them slowly, the sound of the zipper echoing in the quiet room. With trembling hands, he slid the denim down your legs, leaving you in just your shirt and panties. You stepped out of the puddle of fabric, feeling exposed but incredibly aroused under his hungry gaze. He paused for a moment, taking in the sight of you before his eyes dropped to your underwear, the fabric now damp from your arousal. With a wolfish grin, he hooked his fingers in the waistband and yanked them down, revealing your wet pussy to the cool air. The sight of your wetness made his cock twitch with excitement, and he couldn't resist leaning in to inhale the intoxicating scent of your desire.

As he took in the sight of you, sprawled before him, Jack's eyes shone with a mix of love and unbridled lust. He gently parted your legs, his gaze never leaving your face as he took in the pink, swollen flesh that was begging for his touch. He traced a finger along your slit, watching as your body shuddered in response. He teased your entrance, the pad of his thumb brushing over your clit, making you gasp. The anticipation was exquisite, your body begging for more. And then, without warning, he stopped, his eyes locked onto the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. With a wicked smile, he brought his face closer, his hot breath sending shivers across your skin. He flicked his tongue out, making paintings with his tongue and tasting the sweetness of your arousal, and you moaned, the sensation of his tongue on your clit sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body. He took his time, savoring every moment, licking and sucking with a passion that was both tender and fierce. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as you writhed under his ministrations, your body a symphony of sensation as he brought you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy.

With each stroke of Jack's tongue, you felt yourself spiraling closer to the precipice of orgasm. Your hips began to buck, your moans growing louder as he sucked and flicked with masterful precision. You threaded your fingers through his hair, gripping tightly, your body trembling with the effort to hold back the impending release. But Jack was relentless, his mouth working in tandem with his hands, which had moved to your ass, gripping and lifting you closer to him, angling you just right to hit that perfect spot. The pressure built, a delicious ache that grew more intense with each passing moment until it was all you could think about, all you could feel. And then, with a final, forceful flick of his tongue, you shattered, your climax crashing over you like a wave, leaving you trembling and gasping for air. You collapsed against him, his arms wrapping around you to hold you up as the aftershocks of pleasure rippled through your body. His lips moved to your inner thighs, placing gentle kisses along your skin as you came down from your high, your heart racing and your breathing uneven.

"Jack," you murmured, your voice hoarse with passion, "That was..." Words failed you as he looked up, a smug smile on his face, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He stood, his own need palpable in the tension of his body, his erection pressing against the fabric of his shorts. "My turn," he said, his voice low and filled with desire. You nodded, unable to resist the urge to reach out and touch him, to reciprocate the pleasure he had just given you. The night was still young, and the fire between you had only just been stoked. This was the beginning of a passionate exploration, a dance of love and lust that would rewrite the very essence of your friendship, binding you in a way you never thought possible.

Jack's strong hands reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head, revealing the sculpted abs and defined muscles of his athlete's physique. You couldn't help but admire the way the light danced across his chest, highlighting every ridge and dip. He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours as he unbuttoned his shorts. The fabric slid down his hips, and his cock sprang free, thick and hard, a testament to his desire for you. You reached out to touch him, the heat of his skin burning against your fingertips. He groaned as you wrapped your hand around his length, stroking him gently, exploring the velvety head with the pad of your thumb. His breath hitched, and his eyes fluttered shut, his body visibly responding to your touch. You felt a thrill of power, knowing that you could affect him so profoundly. He took your hand away and guided you to the bedroom, his own need for more pressing against your hand as he led you. The room was dimly lit, the shadows playing across the walls, creating an intimate sanctuary for the two of you. He laid you down on the bed, his body following, his weight pressing you into the mattress.

His kisses grew more urgent, his tongue delving into your mouth as if he were trying to devour you whole. His hands roamed over your body, setting your skin alight with every caress. You felt the head of his cock nudge against your entrance, and you spread your legs wider, inviting him in. With a groan, he pushed into you, filling you completely. The feeling was unlike anything you had ever experienced, the years of longing and friendship coalescing into a moment of pure, raw passion. Each thrust was a declaration of love and desire, a promise that you were his, and he was yours. The friction between your bodies grew more intense as he picked up the pace, his hips moving in a rhythm that had you clinging to him, your nails digging into his back as you matched his movements with your own. Your breath mingled with his, your moans a sweet symphony of pleasure that seemed to echo through the room.

The connection between you was palpable, a force that seemed to transcend the physical, weaving your souls together as tightly as your bodies were entwined. As the tension grew, Jack leaned down to whisper sweet nothings in your ear, his breath hot against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer, feeling his cock hit that perfect spot deep within you that had you seeing stars. The world outside the bedroom ceased to exist as you climbed higher, your bodies moving in perfect harmony. And when you finally fell over the edge, your orgasm crashing into you like a tidal wave, Jack followed, his warmth spilling into you, the intensity of his release mirroring the depth of your own. You lay there, panting and sated, your hearts beating as one, forever changed by the love you had just shared.

You clung to Jack, your bodies slick with sweat and entangled in the aftermath of your passionate union. His breath was hot against your ear, whispering sweet nothings that sent shivers down your spine. You felt the rapid thud of his heart, the pulse of his life force resonating with your own. Your legs remained locked around his waist, unwilling to let go of the connection that had just been forged between you. As the intensity of the moment began to wane, Jack slowly pulled out of you, the sensation making you gasp. He rolled over onto his side, taking you with him, and cradled you in his arms, your heads resting on the same pillow, your breaths mingling in the stillness. He kissed the top of your forehead, the gesture tender and filled with a love that went beyond the physical. The warmth of his embrace was a balm to your soul, and you knew that nothing could ever break the bond that had been formed that night. The future was uncertain, but one thing was clear: the path you were on now was one of love, passion, and a friendship that had transformed into something much more profound. As you drifted off to sleep, your bodies tangled together like the roots of the old oak tree back in Michigan, you realized that sometimes, the universe had a way of bringing people together in the most unexpected of ways, and for that, you were eternally grateful.

The following days were a whirlwind of stolen moments and passionate nights, as you both balanced the demands of your new roles within the Devils' organization and the burgeoning relationship that had caught fire between you. You found yourself sneaking glances at Jack during team meetings, your thoughts straying to the way his muscles had felt under your fingertips, the taste of his skin on your lips. Every time you were together, the chemistry was palpable, your bodies seemingly drawn together by an invisible force that neither of you could resist. The nights grew longer, filled with whispered confessions and gentle explorations that deepened the connection you shared. As you lay in each other's arms, the quiet murmur of the city outside Jack's apartment windows serving as a soothing lullaby, you talked about the future, about how this newfound love could fit into the lives you had so carefully constructed apart. The excitement of the unknown was thrilling, but it was also tinged with a hint of fear—what if the flame that burned so brightly now was just a fleeting spark that would eventually die out?

Yet, as you listened to the steady beat of his heart and felt the warmth of his body, you pushed those thoughts aside. For now, all that mattered was the here and now, the feeling of Jack's love surrounding you like a warm blanket, keeping the chill of doubt and fear at bay. Each day was a new adventure, a chance to learn more about the person who had been your confidant, your rock, and now, your lover. The love story of you and Jack Hughes was no longer just a distant memory, but a living, breathing entity that grew stronger with every shared kiss and whispered "I love you." And as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, you began to believe that perhaps, just perhaps, the universe had always had a grander plan for the two of you—a plan that had led you both to the very heart of the sport you adored, to find not just success, but the kind of love that could conquer any distance.

Jack took you by surprise when he suggested a date under the stars, a nostalgic nod to the countless nights you had spent together as children, lying on the hood of his old car and making wishes on shooting stars. The air was crisp with the promise of fall, the leaves whispering secrets as they danced in the gentle breeze. He led you to a quiet spot by the lake, a place that had been your sanctuary in the days before the world had grown so large. He spread out a blanket, and you lay down side by side, the soft fabric a cocoon of warmth against the cool grass. The stars winked at you from the velvet sky, a silent audience to the love that had blossomed between you.

As you lay there, Jack reached over, his hand finding yours, lacing your fingers together in a gesture that felt both familiar and brand new. His thumb traced gentle circles on your palm, sending waves of warmth up your arm and into your chest. He turned to you, his eyes filled with the light of a thousand stars. "You know," he began, his voice a soft rumble, "I've loved you since we were kids. And now that we're here, together, I want to make it official." His heart was racing, you could feel it through his touch. "Will you be my girlfriend?" The words hung in the air, suspended like the stars above, filled with hope and naked vulnerability.

You searched his eyes, finding the love and friendship that had been the foundation of your lives. The moment felt like a perfect circle, a culmination of all the moments that had led you to this very spot. You felt your own heart swell with emotion, your voice a whisper. "Yes," you breathed, your eyes shining with unshed tears. "Yes, Jack Hughes, I'll be your girlfriend."

The weight of the word 'girlfriend' settled over you both, a warm embrace that seemed to seal the bond you had rekindled. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was sweet and full of promise. As you pulled away, smiling through your tears, you cuddled closer to him, feeling his strong arms wrap around you. Together, you stared up at the sky, the stars a testament to the endless possibilities that lay before you. The future was uncertain, but as long as you had each other, you knew it would be bright.

Jack's arms tightened around you, his embrace a silent declaration of his own love and commitment. The stars above seemed to shine brighter in celebration, their light dancing on the lake's surface and casting a soft glow on your entwined bodies. As the night grew colder, you both moved closer, sharing warmth and whispers of future plans. The feeling of his heart against yours was a constant reminder of the unspoken promises you had made—to support each other, to cherish every moment, and to never let the distance come between you again. The sound of the lake's gentle waves served as a soothing backdrop to your newfound love, a rhythmic reminder of the life that flowed around you, just as your love for each other had grown and evolved over the years. With every shared breath and tender touch, you felt the weight of the past lift away, making room for a future filled with excitement and love. And as you lay there, wrapped in the warmth of his love and the promise of forever, you knew that the journey ahead, no matter how challenging it might be, would be worth every step if it led you back to Jack's arms, to the place where you truly belonged.

The following weekend, Jack had a game, and you watched from the stands, feeling a sense of pride and love swell within you as he glided across the ice. The crowd roared as he scored the winning goal, and as he skated over to the bench, he searched the sea of faces until his eyes found yours. With a grin that could light up the entire arena, he blew you a kiss, his eyes alight with the fire of victory. After the game, you met him in the locker room, the air thick with the scent of sweat and camaraderie. He pulled you into a crushing hug, his damp hair sticking to your forehead as he whispered, "I did it for you," his breath warm against your ear. The other players cheered and clapped, some teasing him good-naturedly about his newfound fan club. As you walked back to his apartment, hand in hand, the excitement of the game still pulsing through your veins, you knew that the path you were on was the one you were meant to follow. That night, you made love in the glow of the setting sun, the warmth of his body and the passion in his kisses echoing the victory of the day. It was a celebration of your love, a declaration that no matter where life took you, you would always find your way back to each other. And as you drifted off to sleep, lulled by the steady beat of his heart, you knew that together, you could conquer any challenge the universe threw your way.

As the days grew shorter and the chill of winter seeped into New Jersey, Jack and you grew closer, finding warmth in each other's embrace amidst the frosty air. The holidays approached, bringing with them a flurry of team events and the anticipation of time apart as the hockey season went into full swing. You cherished the moments you had together, making every second count. One night, as the first snowflakes of the season began to dance outside the windows, Jack took you ice skating under the glow of the arena's lights. The smoothness of the ice mirrored the ease with which you had fallen into your relationship, and as he held your hand, guiding you through the twirls and turns, you felt your heart flutter in your chest. He was more than just your lover, more than the best friend you had ever known—he was the person who had captured your soul and made it sing. As you leaned against the boards to catch your breath, laughing at your wobbly attempts at a figure eight, Jack turned to you, the snowflakes dusting his eyelashes. He looked into your eyes, his own filled with a love so intense it was almost painful to behold. "I don't know what I did to deserve you," he murmured, his voice hoarse with emotion. "But I know I'll do everything in my power to keep you by my side."

The words hung in the cold air, a vow that seemed to warm the very ice beneath your skates. You knew that the road ahead would be fraught with challenges—his games, your career, the inevitable separations—but as you looked into his eyes, you also knew that together, you could weather any storm. With a smile that could melt the coldest of hearts, you leaned in and kissed him, the world around you fading into the background as the magic of the moment wrapped you in a warm embrace. It was a kiss filled with promise, with hope, with the unspoken understanding that no matter where the winds of fate might blow, you would always find your way back to each other. And as you skated hand in hand into the night, the stars winking at you from above, you felt the universe itself nod in approval, whispering that sometimes, love was just meant to be.

The months turned into years, and your relationship with Jack grew stronger, a testament to the unyielding bond that had formed between you. Through the highs of victories and the lows of defeats, you were each other's constant, a beacon of support and love that never wavered. As the summer sun kissed the horizon, signaling the end of another season, Jack suggested a trip back to Michigan to visit your old stomping grounds. The idea filled you with excitement, not only to see the place that had shaped you both but also to reconnect with Quinn and Luke.

The journey home was a blend of nostalgia and newfound appreciation. The familiar landmarks grew closer with each passing mile, the anticipation of seeing your childhood friends a thrumming beat in your heart. As you pulled up to the house that held so many memories, the sight of Quinn and Luke waiting on the porch sent waves of joy crashing over you. The moment you stepped out of the car, a chorus of laughter and cheers filled the air as you were enveloped in their warm embraces. The years had brought their own changes—Quinn had settled down with a lovely wife and a baby on the way, while Luke was thriving in his own adventures—but the essence of their friendship remained untouched by time.

You spent the weekend reminiscing about old times, sharing stories of your new lives, and reconnecting over the simple pleasure of each other's company. As the days grew long and the nights grew warm, you found yourself nestled between Jack and the Hughes brothers, the fireflies flickering in the darkness like stars that had descended to earth. The conversations flowed freely, the laughter echoing through the quiet neighborhood streets, and it was as if the years had never come between you. You watched Jack with a soft smile, his eyes alight with the joy of being home, with being surrounded by those who had known him before the NHL, before the glitz and the glamour. It was a gentle reminder of the boy he had been, the friend who had held your hand through the storms of adolescence.

The visit was a balm to your soul, a chance to recharge and remember the roots of your friendship. As the weekend drew to a close, you felt a pang of sadness, but also a renewed sense of purpose. Life had led you back to each other, and as you held Jack's hand and said your goodbyes, you knew that no matter how much the seasons of life changed, the core of your bond would remain unshaken. With a promise to visit more often, you climbed into the car, ready to face the future together, hand in hand. The road ahead was long, but with the warmth of Jack's love and the comfort of your shared past, you had no doubt that you would conquer every challenge with grace and emerge even stronger, ready to face whatever the universe had in store.

Jack had planned the perfect adventure for the both of you and the Hughes family. He had picked a serene spot, a hidden gem nestled in the heart of the Michigan wilderness. As you all piled into the car, the anticipation grew with every mile that passed. The destination was a secret, known only to him, and the excitement of the unknown thrummed through the air. When you finally arrived, you found yourselves in a clearing surrounded by towering pines and a tranquil lake that shimmered under the warm embrace of the setting sun. The serenity of the place was almost tangible, the only sound the soft rustle of leaves whispering secrets to the wind.

As the family set up camp, Jack took you aside, his hand firm and warm in yours. He led you to a secluded spot at the water's edge, a small dock that jutted out into the lake. The wooden planks creaked gently underfoot as you made your way to the end, the water lapping gently against the posts. He turned to face you, his eyes shining with a love that seemed to have grown with every shared moment. "This place," he began, his voice low and earnest, "has always been special to me. It's where I came to think, to dream, and to escape." He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with the weight of what he was about to say. "And it's here, where I want to tell you that I've been in love with you since the day you moved in next door."

The words hung in the air, a confession that seemed to resonate with every fiber of your being. You searched his eyes, the depth of his feelings reflected in the pools of emotion that had gathered there. He dropped to one knee, pulling out a small velvet box, and your heart skipped a beat. "I know we've been through a lot," he continued, his voice trembling slightly, "but I can't imagine a future without you. You're the one I want to share every victory with, every heartache, every moment of joy." He opened the box to reveal a ring that sparkled like the stars you had wished upon so many times together. "Will you marry me?"

The world seemed to stop as you stared down at the ring, the sunset casting a warm glow on everything around you. You felt the tears well up in your eyes, the weight of his love too much to bear. "Jack," you managed to whisper, your voice thick with emotion, "I love you more than words can say." You nodded, unable to form coherent words. "Yes," you breathed, "yes, I'll marry you."

He slid the ring onto your finger, the cool metal feeling like it was sealing a promise that had been in the making for a lifetime. He stood up and took you in his arms, the kiss that followed a declaration of forever. As you wrapped your arms around him, the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you, the lake, and the promise of a future filled with love and happiness.

The proposal had been a perfect culmination of your journey, a testament to the love that had grown between you despite the distance and the years apart. The rest of the night was a blur of excitement and joy as you shared the news with Quinn and Luke, their faces lighting up with happiness for the two of you. The fire crackled in the campfire, casting a warm glow on the faces of your loved ones as you reveled in the warmth of their congratulations. The stars above twinkled down on you, as if in approval of Jack's heartfelt declaration.

In the quiet moments, you found yourself lost in thought, the reality of your engagement sinking in. You had come so far from the days of playing street hockey and sharing secrets under the old oak tree. Now, as you gazed into the flames, Jack's hand in yours, you knew that the adventure ahead would be the most exciting one yet—the adventure of building a life together, forever entwined by love and friendship. And as the night grew late, and the laughter of your friends and future in-laws grew softer, you curled up beside Jack, feeling the warmth of his love and the weight of the ring on your finger. You closed your eyes, your heart full to bursting, and whispered a silent thank you to the universe for bringing you back to the place you truly belonged—in Jack's arms, ready to face whatever the future had in store.

#hockey #nhl #nhl players #ice hockey #smut #female reader #fluff #jack x reader #jack hughes #new jersey devils #luke hughes #quinn hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x y/n

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strangesmallbard · 2 days ago

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i may be connecting dots from cork boards in different universes, but i have been observing this this overall unwillingness in fictional media to both allow a story to Go There or, for respective fanbases, acknowledge that Going There often helps make a story good. “going there” here means “allow a story to play out in a narratively satisfying way that may also piss people off” or “include certain plot beats or worldbuilding elements that may piss people off.”

agatha all along and the first three dragon age games are examples of stories that Go There; both also have fans who criticize this aspect. as a result, the latest dragon age game really does Not Go There. and i’ll be disappointed if future agatha-related media attempts to retcon to appease fans, but it’s also marvel so like. if it does happen, i’ll blame profit-driven execs. much of this always profit-driven i feel.

meanwhile, bg3 is an example of a game that has writers willing to Go There initially but are increasingly getting swayed by fan criticism to Go There Less Often in each new patch update. actually the interplay between creator and fan is very interesting here. will follow up later when i’m not writing posts in the bathroom at work 👍

#yell.txt

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lillaydee · 3 days ago

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The Arrangement Part 9

Frontier! Joel Miller / Reader

Your life crumbled to nothing during a migration to Jackson, forcing you to agree to an arrangement just to survive.

NOTE: Possible inaccuracies in baby developments, food intake and inheritance or ownership laws coming. I really know nothing, but I needed to put some stuff in for the sake of the story line, so please forgive me and take everything in the spirit of storytelling yeah?

WARNINGS: Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Ellie & Joel Bonding (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Joel Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (The Last of Us), Jealousy, Mutual Pining, Fluff and Angst, Frontier Joel, Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Virgin Joel, Virgin Reader, Minor Character Death, Period-typical Misogyny, Marriage of Convenience

I think i need to preface this chapter by saying I'M SORRY. PLEASE DON'T HATE ME.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Part 8

You didn’t know how long you stood there. You heard him come out of his room, and heard splashes of water, probably cleaning himself. And then, there was silence, and after a few moments, some quiet sobs and sniffles.

Was he… crying?

What was going on?

You heard his footsteps heading towards your room. You pressed your body tight against the door, worried that he might try to open the door. You were not scared of him, exactly. You knew he didn’t mean to hurt you, that he didn’t mean for things to go the way it did, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to face him at that moment. You could feel him press himself against your door, whispering your name, his sniffs evident, his breathing heavy.

He stood there a while, but eventually he went into his room and shut the door. You waited a long time, not daring to go out in case he came out. What would you say to him? How could you look him in the eyes again?

Eventually, you went out, washcloth in hand. You could hear his bed creak slightly, as if he sat up to listen to you. You wet the washcloth, wiping yourself. An involuntary hiss came out your mouth from the sting, the light-coloured washcloth evident with blood, even in the low light. You knew that would happen, of course. Your friends, the ladies you lived with, alluded to it sometimes.

Of all the stories you had heard over the years, you gathered that women would belong in one of three categories when it came to intimacy with their husbands.

There were those who gushed about the experience. How life changing it was. How they could not imagine living without it. How it brought them closer as a couple. How much the experience made their lives so much better. How mind blowing. How they never knew ecstasy before then. How in love they were with their husbands.

There were also those who seemed nonchalant about it all. How their lives were unchanged by it. How they didn’t think much of it, neither enjoying it too much nor hating it. How their relationships with their husbands were as it were. How their lives moved on with or without it. How it could sometimes be good, but not so good at other times. How sometimes they come to a finish, whatever that meant, but mostly not. How they tolerate their husbands.

And then, there were those who feared the experience. How painful it was. How they were glad they only needed to do it until they were with child. How they would be glad to live the rest of their lives without going through that again. How it made them fear their husbands. How much worse their lives had become because of it. How annoying. How they had never known pain like that before. How much they resent their husbands.

These were often the women who were glad that brothels existed.

You had always connected the difference between these three groups of women with how they felt for their husbands, when it came to intimacy. Basically, you believed that if they were in love, the intimacy would be great. Being in love, to you, meant there was a spark, a connection on a deeper level. Which, up until now, you thought you had with Joel. So, in your fantasies, you believed that since you felt so strongly for your husband, and believed that he did for you too, the intimacy would be wonderful. That you would belong in the first group.

Obviously, that was all in your head.

**********

You laid in bed, still digesting the happening in the next room. And suddenly, you came to a realization.

He did you a favour by marrying you. Because of this marriage, you now had a roof over your head. Because of this marriage, you were living a happy life in this wonderful new town, making friends, having hobbies, a family of your own. Because of this marriage, you were not back in your old town working for pennies and scraps for something to eat. Because of this marriage, you had the pleasure of his companionship, this man who you now cannot imagine life without.

Sure, he touched you. Showed affection for you. But maybe that’s just what a good husband would do. And he promised you that he would be one for you.

He had kept every single one of his promises. He had treated you well. He had given you everything you asked for. He had never forced you to do anything you didn’t want to. He had supported you in whatever you wanted to do. He had been a good husband. He provided for you, protected you, was faithful to you. You trusted him. You knew he would never deliberately hurt you.

So the intimacy was not what you had imagined it would be. Was that so bad? Surely there was more to life than that? Those ladies you had known - even those in the third category - their lives were not miserable as far as you could tell. They lived their lives, persevering, even under the shadow of bad, painful intimacy. And you knew for a fact that their husbands were nothing like Joel. He never laid a rough hand on you. He never raised his voice at you.

See? You had it better than them, at least.

This was your own fault. You expected too much.

You let yourself get lost in the situation you were in, the good that these two months had brought you made you believe this was real.

You forgot yourself. You were not the chosen bride whom his heart beat for.

He married you for the convenience of having someone to care for his daughter, for his household.

This disappointment was your own doing.

You let yourself fall in love with him.

You turned on your side, staring at Ellie’s empty crib. You heart felt as if someone was squeezing it tight. And despite all the things you told yourself, you cried yourself to sleep that night, finally accepting that this was how things would go, that this marriage will never be more than that.

Just an arrangement.

**********

You woke up early the next day. Your sleep troubled by the images of Joel marrying a faceless woman next to your grave, the soil still red, passionately kissing her, his hands all over her body. Your face was wet with your tears, the ones you shed in your sleep.

Your body was wet with sweat. You opened the window to let the cold morning spring air in, the sun just peeking its head somewhere. You sat on your bed, mulling over how you planned to go about being in his presence that day, and the day after that, and the day after that, for the rest of your life. Could you ever look him in the eyes again? You honestly could not imagine going about life without having a constant dose of those brown eyes of his.

So, you decided there and then. When this arrangement began, you told yourself that you would be the best wife you could be to him. And that’s what you were going to do. You’re going to get up and be Joel Miller’s wife. He had kept up his end of the bargain, you should too.

You hissed as you relieved yourself that morning, the pain was searing. No matter. This was fresh. You will go to the doctor if it doesn’t improve. But that might alert Liv and Diana. You must not let them know. You shouldn’t shame your husband like that. He didn’t do this on purpose.

The door to the house opened as you made your way back from the outhouse, a frantic Joel looking relieved when he saw you. His demeanour was awkward, his eyes studying the way you were walking, worry clouding his face. He asked if you were alright, his eyes looking beyond yours, as if trying to read your mind. You gave him a smile, telling him you were alright, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. You went into the kitchen and began lighting the fire, taking a bucket and filling it with water before filling the pot with it, going outside to brush your teeth and wash your face, getting some bacon from the ice box for his breakfast.

The water had started boiling when you finally realized he was still standing there in the living room, just watching you, his face unreadable.

“What’s wrong?” you asked him, placing the pan on the stove, moving to get the kettle to make his coffee.

He hesitated, before asking you if you were alright again.

“I’m fine. You should get ready. I’ll start making breakfast.”

He stood there for a good few minutes before finally moving, looking defeated.

You prepared his breakfast and Ellie’s formula, some rice flour and squashed peaches added into it, before going over to Maria’s to get her. She was happy to see you, squealing excitedly in your arms. You kissed her over and over, taking in the sleepy, milky, musky smell of her little head, realizing that you missed her.

Another reason to just persevere. You could not imagine your life without this sweet little girl.

Joel immediately took Ellie from you when you got home, showering Ellie with kisses, taking her outside to feed her, cooing and talking to her the entire time, softly laughing at her ‘replies’, clearly missing her too. Before he went to work, he stood in front of the door, looking unsure on his feet, telling you he’s going, so you brought Ellie to him for him to say goodbye. After giving her so many kisses, he hesitated a bit before bending down to give you a chaste kiss on the cheek, put his hat on and left.

You told yourself that this didn’t mean anything. Of course it would be awkward. The two of you took a step into a new level of intimacy last night. It’s to be expected.

Right?

**********

Things were like that for about three days. He hardly spoke to you, and you to him. The two of you merely existed and danced around each other. You still sent him his drinks and snacks, kept him company when he was working, read to him at night. But it was with an air of unease that suffocated you both. He kept his distance from you, only kissing you on the cheek when saying hello or goodbye, and immediately took a step back when done. He hardly looked you in the eye anymore, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was watching you whenever you were not looking.

There were no sitting on the bench looking at the view with your arms around each other. He didn’t hold your hands when you went on your evening walks with Ellie together. Every bit of conversation revolved around Ellie, to her, about her. It was as if your relationship had taken a step back, and you felt horrible for it.

By the fourth day, you were no longer in pain when you relieved yourself. Everything went back to normal. But he was still keeping his distance from you. You decided to take matters into your own hands and gave him a quick kiss on his lips before he left for work that morning, making him flinch, keeping his body away from you. But it was an improvement over the last few days, so you didn’t say anything.

That evening, when the three of you were preparing to leave for your walk, you made the effort to place your arm in the crook of his as he held Ellie. He didn’t protest, although the smile he gave you was a bit hesitant. But your arm did remain there for the rest of the walk, and that evening, after Ellie was down, the two of you did sit together to look at the view, albeit not touching.

It took a few more days of that before the awkwardness became unnoticeable. But there was no more hugging, no more passionate kissing on the lips. Your conversations went back to normal, the two of you were laughing again, joking with each other, but his head had remained on his pillow during the reading sessions, and lip kisses remained chaste.

You and the ladies were talking one day, when the dreaded subject alluding to intimacy was brought up. Liv was talking about her excitement to move into her house, just a week or so from completion now. Diana made a comment about how relieving it would be to not to have to worry about boxes and wooden trunks falling on them when they were in the throes of intimacy with their husbands in the wagon.

Oh, the wagon rocking suspiciously and everyone would know what you were doing! Liv added, and everyone laughed, nodding their heads enthusiastically. Even you played along, not wanting any awkward questions to be asked your way. Maria chimed in with something along the lines of maybe settling for being a bit boring and just lying there quietly for a while, and maybe not be too enthusiastic, and Liv said something about not being a boring wife in the bedroom.

They were all laughing until they were bent double. You laughed along, as if it was the funniest thing you had ever heard, but that night, you laid awake to a horrible realization.

What if you were just horrible in bed? Was that why Joel no longer initiated anything with you?

Oh God. No.

**********

That thought didn’t leave your head for days. When you think of the way he couldn’t get enough of touching you before, it made you think that having you that one time turned him off. Did he not like it? Sure, it wasn’t good for you, but surely it would have been good for him, nonetheless? He did… finish, if you were correct in that assumption.

So why did he not want to touch you? Was he… disgusted by you?

You were so worried by this change, your body had become attuned to any movements from him, any pauses, even any sounds that came from his room. You were awoken one night by the sound of him leaving the house. He was careful about it, his steps careful, his movements light, making sure the door didn’t creak too much. You brushed it off that night, maybe he was just using the outhouse?

But then it happened again the next night, and the night after that.

The fourth night was a rainy one. So you placed a chamber pot in his room, not wanting him to run out in the rain. Even in full spring, Jackson was a cold place at night. The last thing you wanted was for him to get sick. But even amidst the pitter patter of the rainfall, you could hear him leave the house.

Worried, you went out of your room and peeked through the window. You saw him move towards the other side of the house, opposite to the outhouse. You heard him outside, through the wall, behind the house, near the kitchen window. He had stopped walking. What was he doing? You went to the kitchen window, careful not to let him notice you, and peeked through the gap in the curtain.

He was standing next to the laundry table he had built for you, parts of him hidden from view by the table and the barrel he had placed there. His back was to you. His hand was moving furiously in his trousers, his head up to the clouds. You could hear his heavy breathing, even with the rain.

It didn’t take you long to realize what he was doing.

You were frozen. You took your eyes off him, you thought, but you still saw him. You saw his body stiffen and bent over, holding his trousers down for a bit, before rinsing his hands in the rain and tying his trousers back up, settling his breathing, his hands laid on the laundry table while he caught his breath. You were too shocked to move fast enough back to your room, and he entered the house just as you got to your door.

He looked flushed, shocked, like a thief caught red handed.

“What are you doing up?” he asked you.

“Just thirsty,” you honestly shocked yourself at how easy that lie came out of your mouth. “Where did you go?”

“Outhouse.”

“Oh, I put the chamber pot in your room,” you can’t help but notice how flustered he got, how much he didn’t want to be there being questioned by you.

“You did? I didn’t notice.”

You wanted to comment on the lack of water he had on his person despite his claim of walking to and back from the outhouse, but you just told him to dry himself before going back to bed. You closed the door behind you and laid in bed, watching Ellie sleep.

He didn’t want you anymore. He would rather leave the house in the pouring rain to relieve his needs with his own hand than be with you.

You cried yourself to sleep again that night.

**********

That Saturday, he told you he had a job to do in town, asking you if you would like to come with him. You needed groceries, so you nodded and got ready to go, Ellie strapped to your chest since he would be working. You spent the entire journey to town in silence, you even sat far enough from him to for another person to sit in between.

It was as if you gave up. You felt defeated. You shouldn’t have asked him to take you that night. All this could have been avoided if only you had just kept your naughty thoughts to yourself. Before that night, you had a man who cared a lot about you. Now, he was but a husband who lived with you.

After you saw him that night, you distanced yourself emotionally and physically from him. You remained the devoted wife on the surface, keeping him company, cooking and cleaning for him, reading to him, going on walks with him. You were never rude or angry, you remained the gentle person that you were with him. But you didn’t touch him, just as he didn’t touch you. You didn’t talk to him unless necessary, nor him to you. His nightly habits remained, you still heard him leaving at night. Coming back after a while and snoring not long after. Good for him, getting the release he needed.

You knew it was petty. You knew you shouldn’t do it. But you found your heart hurting every time he kissed you on the cheek, or even touched you, remembering the kisses and touches he used to give you before that fateful night. Before he drew back ten steps. Before everything became awkward. So you withdrew, no more touching, no more kisses hello and goodbye. If you didn’t have it any longer, eventually, you wouldn’t miss it, right?

The first time you didn’t kiss him goodbye, he lingered, waiting for you to do so. When he stepped forward to do it instead, you used Ellie’s fussing as an excuse to take her inside for a nappy change. The second day, he moved to kiss you first, but you turned and busied yourself clearing the table. He stopped trying on day three.

You didn’t even know if he was affected by it, if he noticed. You didn’t look him in the face anymore. You couldn’t. It hurt. What if the longing looks and yearning smiles were no longer on it? What if his warm, kind, brown eyes were now filled with emptiness for you, or, even worse, coldness? How could you live like that? And if they were still there, what if you gave in, fell deeper for him, only to feel so rejected again?

Most of all, you just felt stupid. Two months of connecting, getting to know one another, gone just like that. All because you needed intimacy.

Stupid, stupid!

You were jolted back to reality when the wagon stopped in front of the grocers. You climbed down yourself, his steps stopping as he ran around the wagon to help you when he saw you had done it yourself. He placed his hand in his pocket and pulled out some money to hand to you, but you instead of taking it, brushing hands with him, you held your hand out, palm up for him to place the money on it. When his fingers almost brushed your palm, you jerked back, causing the money to fall to the ground, and you quickly bent down to get it, holding Ellie steady, before scrambling up to get to the grocers.

You didn’t know why you were being so petty. Truth was, you were worried that if you let him touch you again, you would turn to stone. Your heart hurt. And every time he showed you any form of gestures at all, you just felt it hurt even more, knowing that he didn’t want you anymore. You had to find a way to live with that. And so far, this pettiness, it’s making the hurt more bearable.

You went about the town going to different stores to place your order, setting whatever you had picked up in the wagon before moving along to another store. Just as you were getting the last of your orders, Esther came out of the tavern to sweep something into the street, her eyes looking you up and down in disgust, before looking at something behind you, sneering, and telling you that her guess was right. You were not good enough for him after all.

You turned around and saw Joel come out of the brothel, his toolbox in hand, Rose accompanying him, shaking his hand. You rolled your eyes at Esther, he was doing his job, you menace, you thought. You climbed back into the wagon, just as Joel placed his toolbox in the back before climbing into the driver’s seat. You let him coo at Ellie for a while, sitting right next to him as Esther watched smugly, letting the wagon get out of sight before moving away from him as you did before.

You nodded when he asked you if you got everything you needed. The rest of the ride home was quiet.

That night, after you read him the next chapter, you closed the book and quietly got up to go into your own room.

“Elena,” his voice came to you. You turned, eyes on the mattress rather than at him, and answered “Yes?”

He didn’t say anything, but he fidgeted a little bit, before saying goodnight. You nodded and left the room.

**********

The next morning, you went about your routine as usual. Making him his breakfast, getting Ellie ready for the day, feeding her, doing the laundry, cleaning the house, keeping yourself busy, trying hard not to think about the way things were in your marriage. Joel busied himself with the horses, doing some yard work, fetching the water, mending the wagons, before telling you that he had to go to a house near the edge of town for a job after lunch. You nodded, your hands kept busy ladling out some porridge for lunch, placing the bowl in front of him and setting yourself down with Ellie to feed her.

When he finished eating, he made to clear his bowl, but you gently took it from him and washed it yourself. He stood around watching you, fidgeting with his hat, before finally putting it on and leaving. He walked, you noticed, rather than taking the wagon. About half an hour passed before you noticed that his tool box was still at home. Maybe the house had their own tools for him to use? You had your own lunch, and put Ellie down for a nap, before settling down to begin cutting the materials for your new client’s dress.

Maria and Liv came knocking, Maria telling you she forgot that it was Tommy’s birthday the next day. Could you come with her to town? She needed to buy him something, and maybe get something from the bakers? You told her Ellie was sleeping, but Liv told you to go, she could stay with Ellie. Will was working anyway, building something for their newly completed house. So you went with Maria, the two of you walking leisurely, catching up with each other.

She got Tommy a new leather pouch for his money, his was too ratty, she said. As the two of you made your way out from the bakers on the way home, you ran into Tess, arm in arm with a man you had never met. She introduced both of you to her husband, Max. They both looked so happy. Apparently, Max had to follow the Red Cross wagon for a while before arriving in New York, before finally managing to settle and get a job to buy a land. He told you he was looking for men to build, and Tess said that the Miller men could do that? He would be willing to pay. There was no way he could build on his own, not in the time he needed to get the house done, he said.

You and Maria told him you could ask your husbands, they were about to start another build in a day or two, but you will let him know. His land was just a few lots away from the Millers, apparently, so it would be great if they could help him out. As you were talking, Tess suddenly froze. You followed her line of sight and saw him, all the way at the end of the row of stores. It was far, but you would know him anywhere.

Your husband, sans toolbox. Walking out of the brothel with Rose. His face flushed, his hand rubbing his neck, smiling shyly at her, while she gave him a kiss on his cheek, rubbing his arm up and down, a huge smile on her face.

Your body went numb. Cold. Frozen.

The good news was your heart no longer hurt.

The bad news was it had completely shattered.

Gone.

Millions of tiny sharp pieces filling the cavity of your chest.

Your legs stopped working. Tess and Maria caught you by the arms. Maria looked livid. She made to go to him, but you told her no. Just, please, you needed to get out of here, please. Max immediately helped you up onto his stripped-up wagon, Maria climbing in after you, Max telling Tess he will see her later that day.

As Max got ready to start the ride, Joel turned his head and saw you.

To say his face turned chalk white would be an understatement. He walked towards the carriage, his strides long and fast, before breaking into a small run. Tess told Max to go. Now, go.

Joel broke into a run, running after the carriage to the edge of the town, calling your name desperately, as his panicked face got blurry from the heartbroken tears filling your eyes.

Part 10

#joel miller x you #joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction

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middleearthpixie · 2 days ago

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I'll See You in My Dreams ~ Prologue

A/N: This is the sequel to my 2022 story, Where I Belong. I had no plans to write a follow up to that, since it seemed Noelle and Thorin’s story was told as far as it could go. But then, a few weeks ago, I found myself wondering what would happen if Thorin somehow came back to Noelle’s place and time? What if their story wasn’t quite finished? Anyway, here is, I hope, what will be the answer to those questions. And if you’re unfamiliar with Noelle and Thorin, here is where their story began…

Summary: Noelle James knows soul mates exist, the trouble is, she just can’t seem to find hers. Especially since hers seemed to have existed only in the world of cinema and The Hobbit movies. No one believes she actually spent time in Tolkien’s Middle Earth and even fewer believe Thorin Oakenshield existed in her world, either.

So when she finds herself unexpectedly alone on yet another Christmas, she has no way of knowing exactly what the universe has in store for her this time.The trouble is, this man claiming to be Thorin can’t possibly be him, for he died at the hands of Azog the Defiler at Ravenhill. She saw him die with her own eyes.

So, it can’t be him.

Or can it?

Pairing: Thorin x ofc Noelle James

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 1.3k

I’ll see you in my dreams

When all our summers have come to an end

I’ll see you in my dreams,

We’ll meet and live and laugh again

I’ll see you in my dreams, up around the riverbed

For death is not the end…

Prologue

Erebor

Thorin hadn’t realized he was humming until Thalia shot him a quizzical look, to which he replied, “What?”

“You’re doing it again.”

He bit back a sigh, setting down his fork. “I apologize. I’ve had a long day and have much on my mind. And for some reason, I cannot seem to pry the tune from my head.”

“But that song is like none I’ve ever heard.” Her forehead wrinkled, her thick, dark brows furrowing as she did so. In the flickering golden candlelight, that expression made her face, normally so round and full of laughter, look almost craggy and wizened. It wasn't the first time he’d thought so, but for some reason, it had troubled him far more often of late.

He shared supper with her every evening in her flat and until recently, it had been a highlight of his day. They got on well and she made him smile, and little by little, it seemed only natural that he should begin thinking about taking a wife. Taking her as his wife.

He hadn’t broached the subject yet, though, as the timing just never seemed quite right. Then the blasted song began echoing inside his skull. There were no lyrics at first, only the melody. But, lately, as he hummed, hints of words had begun forming in his brain.

But where had he heard any of it, for it sounded like no music he knew.

“Are you certain? I thought we heard it at Yule?”

She shook her head, the wooden beads in her beard clacking. “I know I’ve never heard it. Might you at least sing me some of it?”

He shook his head. “I recall no words, but only the music.” He reached for his napkin, dabbed at his lips, and then pushed back his chair to rise. “My apologies, Thalia. I think it would be best if I took my leave now.”

Her lips curved downward in a hint of a pout and the motion smoothed the furrows in her forehead as if an invisible filament connected them. “Have you found fault with my cooking?”

“No, of course not. It just as I said, I’ve much on my mind and I fear I’m not good company as a result.”

She rose, skirting the table to catch him by the wrist. “Perhaps a walk might clear your thoughts.”

“Thank you, but no. I think only sleep will help this time.” He patted her hand, then pulled free to strides toward the door. “I will see you come tomorrow, then.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Goodnight.”

He stepped out of her flat, pulling the door softly closed behind him. Flames danced behind globes of frosted glass in sconces mounted high along the labradorite stone walls that were slowly being polished back to their former glory.

Erebor. For so long, Thorin could only dream of reclaiming his home, of rightfully claiming his throne within those stone walls. Now that he had, it wasn't quite the dream come true he’d once imagined. No, he’d spent nearly six months recuperating from the wounds he’d received at Ravenhill, at hands of the pale orc Azog the Defiler, and when he’d done that?

The real work had begun.

It was a two-steps-forward-one-step-back process, but over the last six months, he could at least now see the signs of renovation, especially in the main levels of the kingdom. The lower levels, aside from the forges, still needed much in the way of work, but as he made his way up to the Great Hall, cracked, damaged, and sooty stone gave way to solid walls polished to an almost-mirror like finish.

But he didn't stop at the Great Hall. Nor did he make his way up to the ramparts, where he’d preferred to go when he needed to think and clear his head.

No this time, he went outside, nodding at the guard in the gatehouse as he left the warmth of the fortress to step into the darkness of the winter night. Snow drifted, blew this way and that, swirling wildly about him as he followed the narrow slate pathway away from Erebor. The pathway became a flight of cut-stone stairs, worn and crumbling in places, that led up behind his kingdom, toward a different fortress. One he did not often venture to without good reason.

Ravenhill was not high on the list of his favorite places. In fact, he avoided it as much as possible. But for some reason, he felt drawn there this evening. The tune that had been playing in his head for the last few days grew louder now. And not only that, but the words that had been but fragments were fragments no more. Instead, they became words he knew, yet didn't know at all.

Well, it ain’t no secret, I’ve been 'round a time or two. Well, I don’t know, baby, maybe you been around, too. Well, there’s another dance, honey. All you gotta do is say yes, and if you’re rough and ready for love, honey, I’m tougher than the rest.

The voice singing them in his head did not belong to him. It was raspier than his and not nearly as deep. And while he didn't know whose voice it was, he knew he would know the name, should he ever hear it.

Or perhaps he was just going mad again.

Snow blew harder now, but he didn't really feel the cold. Didn't notice the flakes sweeping his nose, getting caught in his beard, in his hair. All he knew was the voice in his head grew louder as he neared the river.

A vision swept before his eyes. A woman. With a long tangle of red hair. In his arms.

He closed his eyes against the rising voice inside his head.

The voice grew louder still.

A dull thud jarred through him as he dropped to his knees alongside the rushing river.

The music swelled.

“Leave me in peace… Mahal…” he gritted, his hands pressing against his ears as if that would somehow block the sounds.

It blocked nothing. It didn't even quiet them. Instead, the voice grew louder.

Nausea swelled. Bile rose into the back of his throat. He gagged. He coughed.

The blackness came out of nowhere, roaring in his ears like that of Smaug the terrible just before he broke through Erebor’s front façade to torch Esgaroth to cinders. It filled his ears. It pressed into him from all sides.

And with a final gulp, it swallowed him whole.

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @fizzyxcustard @xxbyimm @kibleedibleedoo

@lathalea @legolasbadass @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @notlostgnome

@myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @ruthoakenshield

@quiall321 @dianakc @msjava1972 @glassgulls @evenstaredits

@heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @sazzlep @night-ace

@lyl1pad @mistresskayla-blog1 @kmc1989 @rachel1959 @sketch-mer-6195

@sherala007 @enchantzz @albionscastle @absentmindeduniverse

If you’d like to be added to (or removed from)the tag list, please just let me know!

Note: In the coming weeks, I will be cleaning up my tag list, so if you'd like to continue to be tagged, please let me know. Otherwise, I'll assume you're no longer interested in receiving these notifications and will take you off the list. Thanks!

#The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Thorin x OC #The Hobbit AU #Thorin Fic #Is it hot in here?#Modern Woman #Romance #Richard Armitage

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bulkyphrase · 13 hours ago

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Post-CACW Stony: a fic rec list

I've been on a Captain America: Civil War kick lately, and since I know that Steve-friendly CW Stony fic can be hard to find, I've put together a rec list!

I am thoroughly team cap, but these range from being anti-accords to just not getting into the issue, and all are Steve-friendly as long as you can accept a lot little loving Steve-whump.

Atlas by nanasekei (@elcorhamletlive) (Not Rated, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, 11,505 words)

Summary: They don't hear each other.

Eigengrau by vorkosigan (@the-vorkosigan) (Teen And Up Audiences, 16,811 words)

Summary: Tony is captured; he doesn't know by whom, or why. He doesn't know how much time has passed since. What he knows is, he can now hear something in the adjacent cell, and that 'something' sounds a lot like Steve Rogers.

Nights When the Wolves Are Silent, and Only the Moon Howls by Cluegirl, Defiler_Wyrm (@cluegrrl) (Mature, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, 77,612 words)

Note: has a Stucky element too, but the relationship between Steve and Tony is the main focus.

Summary: “Could you drop all that stoic shit and be my freaking-the-hell-out wingman for just like, five seconds here?” Steve wasn’t sure he could think of anything he wanted less to do than to freak out about his wounds just then though, so he reached across his chest and gingerly patted Sam’s clenched knuckles. “It’ll be fine,” he promised, believing it. “Serum’s handled worse.” “You know, I actually believe you,” Sam allowed after a long second of glaring. “Which is deeply alarming, considering how much of your connective tissue I’ve touched in the last 4 hours. Now you wanna tell me what Russoff’s men did to you that made it look like you got mauled by a bear?” Steve flinched, then breathed the memory down to size. “Not a bear,” he murmured. “Wolves.”

More below the cut!

(trust me when i say) i'll get back to you by machi_kun (@machi-kun) (General Audiences, 1,549 words)

Summary: “Me and Rogers are not on speaking terms anymore.”

An Infinite Number Of Monkeys At Typewriters (Or, Steve and Tony Finally Get It Right) by JenTheSweetie (@jenthesweetie) (Mature, 18,864 words)

Summary: Tony blinked up at the face staring down at him. This was impossible. This was definitely 100% not possible, he had not just started giving a good morning handy to - “Steve?” After the events of Civil War, Tony and Steve wake up in bed next to each other in an alternate universe. It goes about as well as you'd expect it to.

And Miles to Go Before I Sleep by Cluegirl (@cluegrrl) (Mature, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, 152,765 words)

Summary: They all made mistakes. They all have regrets. They all have nightmares, suspicions, and questions they'd like to ask. And they all left business behind them that was never quite finished. This is the story of how the Avengers ask those questions, get their answers, and come together like fucking adults to make things right again.

Bring Him Home by seventymilestobabylon (@seventymilestobabylon) (Explicit, 13,769 words)

Summary: Tony misses Steve very badly after the Accords. Some days he deals with it better than other days. (a fic featuring the booty call flip phone, minor kidnappings, and time jumps between chapters because the election has been happening and my brain has been too mush to make a proper plot)

Conjugal Visits by xtricks (Explicit, 4,252 words)

Summary: AU: Steve Rogers gets captured fairly soon after Civil War and sent to the Raft. Tony discovers that trying to appease your enemies doesn’t work and ends up a prisoner too.

Down Came the Rain by captainoutoftime (@captain-outoftime) (Explicit, 75,274 words)

Summary: A mission goes badly for Natasha, who is discovered de-aged to three years old. She recognizes no one, but every kid knows Captain America. When Tony grudgingly makes a call, Steve makes good on his promise to answer. Steve has to work together with Tony to take care of a traumatized child and figure out how to turn their itsy bitsy spider back into a Black Widow. Neither of them really want to talk about what happened in Siberia, but living in close quarters, they have to come to some sort of peace - even if it means addressing some feelings they'd rather not admit to having. As they work together to solve the problem of a re-emerging Red Room, Steve uncovers something he never expected to find again: family.

Hating Steve Rogers by nanasekei (@elcorhamletlive) (Not Rated, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, 16,243 words)

Summary: The thing about hating Steve Rogers is that it shouldn’t be easy - but it really, really is.

I Have Questions by YourFadedGlory (HisNameWasAce) (@yourfadedglory) (Not Rated, 2,808 words)

Summary: There is only so much that Steve can carry. His legs quiver and his heart aches, he looks skyward, and in a startling moment of clarity he lets the shield go. Gouged and battered, it rings like a bell when it hits the stone floor. He wonders for a split moment if it will weigh on Tony the way it has weighed on him.

The Crying Game by fohatic (@fohatic) (Explicit, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, 36,403 words)

Summary: Steve Rogers stared at the dimly glowing digital screen of the little burner phone, rereading the text message as if it might somehow give away something he missed the first dozen times he scrutinized it. His frown only deepened, though, brows drawing together with consternation as the 88 characters only left him with an even more ponderous sense of uncertainty. If you meant what you wrote, I'll be at the Swissotel Sarajevo, 4/18. Presidential Suite. 9pm. Come alone. ...Nearly a year after Steve and Tony's fallout—and only weeks after press rumors that Tony and Pepper's engagement was inexplicably called off—Steve gets a message on the dedicated burner phone. Despite his instinctive reservations, he's compelled to answer the mysterious call. An approximately canon-compliant story.

the hope that kills you by meidui (@meidui) (Mature, 1,227 words)

Summary: Steve used to go on so much about freedom and choice. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. Some of the freedom he loved was big, big enough for him to lay his life down for over and over, and some of the freedom he loved was small, like the wind in his hair when he took his motorcycle out, but now he has to sob and take it when Tony sucks a deep flowering bruise where his prison uniform couldn’t possibly cover and whispers in his ear, “Who’s gonna help you now? Where are you gonna run?”

live for the hope of it all by meidui (@meidui) (Mature, No Archive Warnings Apply, 1,880 words)

Note: This is a sequel to the hope that kills you

Summary: “You can keep me here, can’t you?” Steve asks a little desperately as Tony kneels over him, spreading himself out all the better for Tony to take. He must have really hated his cell on the Raft, Tony thinks before he loses himself in Steve’s body, and for a little while, everything is the same as it has been for the past six months. It’s only after, in the dark and quiet of his own bedroom with Steve sprawled sleepy and heavy across his chest that Tony realises— This is their cell now.

The Phone by AvengersNewB (@avengersnewb) (Mature, 9,039 words)

Summary: Tony hates the flip phone Steve sends him, but he keeps it close at all times, and it never rings until it finally does and the news might help put things into perspective - Captain America : Civil War fix-it. or The phone can't take the place of your smile. [podfic added as chapter 2]

the things we invent when we are scared by nanasekei (@elcorhamletlive) (Not Rated, 18,305 words)

Summary: Steve is trapped in a dream machine, programmed to make him believe he's living his happiest fantasy. Tony goes inside to wake him up, but what he finds is a lot more complicated than he expected.

there's nothing but blue skies by Meatball42 (Mature, Major Character Death, 647 words)

Summary: “This isn’t good,” Steve said grimly.

#marvel fic rec #stony #cacw #steve rogers #tony stark #this list has taken years because searching ao3 for steve-friendly cacw stony #is like sticking your hand in a barrel of loose knives looking for treasure #the ice cold steve takes i have seen guys

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ink-and-dagger · 2 days ago

Note

Hi Legacy, thank you for your comment and for your compliment about my writing. Unfortunately, Tumblr wouldn’t let me leave this response to your comment under the fic, so I am having to add it onto your reblog. Something I really, genuinely, did not want to have to do.

I hear what you are saying, and am in full agreement with you - tags play a vital role in reader protection, and there’s nothing more frustrating (and in some cases dangerous) than people misusing them.

However, a few words now in my own defence.

I am not new here. I have been writing and posting Silco fics since Arcane first aired back in 2021. It seems more likely in this case that you are new if not to the Arcane fandom then to my blog/writing specifically - so allow me to provide a bit of context which may help, because I don’t believe this case is as cut-and-dry as you believe it to be. I began posting my multi-chapter Silco x Reader fic Drink With Me in January 2022, and updated regularly until its completion in July of that same year. I was extremely lucky in that my story gained a lot of traction and interaction within the fandom throughout that time. People became extremely invested in the Reader character, and would ask me all sorts of questions about her. That’s how Astrid was born. She became a point of reference outside the fic for those who wanted someone to visualise, whilst the fic itself remained strictly a Reader Insert. In the few years since this story wrapped up, my followers have remained invested in the ‘Drink With Me’ universe (again, I’m incredibly lucky and thankful for this), and to this day I receive tons of requests for bonus content set within this universe that I try to fulfil whenever I can. Despite these ficlets being connected to a main multi-chapter fic, most of them can easily be read as a standalone and do not require the context or any prior knowledge of the main fic to make sense. Additionally, as I did with the main fic, they are always written in 2nd person, the character is never referred to by name, and I never use any physical descriptors beyond anatomical ones during smut. If you were to take away any and all tags and look purely at the text alone, it reads as a traditional reader insert, which is why I tag it as such. I include the ‘Astrid’ and ‘OC’ tags for those people who are familiar with the DWM fic and universe and who specifically follow me for this reason, so that they know in their minds that the ficlet relates to the world/timeline of Drink With Me in some way shape or form. I think the point I’m trying to make is that those who are familiar with me and my work will see the ‘Astrid/OC’ tag and go “Ah cool it’s this universe”. Whereas for everyone else I add the ‘can be read as gen!reader insert’ note at the top so that they can go “Ah cool, let me just ignore that character tag then” and happily read it as a general reader insert fic perfectly fine. I hope that makes a bit more sense as to why I tag this way, why I’ve always tagged this way, and why I will continue to tag this way for my Drink With Me adjacent works. If I ever were to write something in 1st or 3rd person or that described the MC in a very specific way, then I would of course not tag that as a reader fic.

Now, so long as we’re here discussing fandom etiquette, I’d like to politely point out that adding your grievance onto the reblog of a specific fic is not a ‘gentle reminder’ - it’s a full-frontal attack on the author who wrote that fic. It would have been far better for you to create your own, separate post addressing the fandom as a whole, or to send me a quiet, private comment/DM on the side.

As I’ve already said, I empathise with your point of view, and I hope you are able to empathise with mine. If the way I choose to tag my work bothers you, then please feel free to block my account so that I don’t show up whilst you are searching for content. At the end of the day we are all individual humans - you cannot expect everyone to interpret/measure/categorise everything in the same way you would, and it’s imperative to take some measure of responsibility for cultivating your own online space, instead of relying on others to do it for you.

What if Astrid find a pic of young Silco by accident hehhehehehhehehehehhe

Snapshot

A Drink With Me ficlet

870 words || Established relationship || Silco x Astrid (but can be read as gen f!reader) || SFW but suggestive || MDNI

“Oh my Gods.”

“What?”

“Oh. My Gods.”

Time has stripped the photograph between your fingers of its glossy sheen and has left the edges blunt and frayed, but you would recognise those features anywhere; no less sharp nor striking through the faded sepia.

“This is you.”

It had slipped from between two ledgers as you’d perused Silco’s bookshelves – an activity more to entertain your idle hands than a genuine search for reading material. The image itself is simple and candid: A young man, seemingly oblivious to the fact his portrait is being taken, sat at a familiar bar, with eyes downcast toward a spread of papers.

That same man looks up at you now from a very similar spread of papers. “What is?”

“This.” You drift over to his desk and perch on its edge, all the while unable to tear your gaze from the photo in your hands. The pitch dark hair swept back into a low bun. The familiar strays – the same ones that even now will always be the first to escape any styling under the combing of agitated fingers – falling forward into his face, only far longer and thicker than you’re used to. His skin, unblemished and smooth, save for the chronic furrow between his brows – etched there long before time and tragedy ravaged the rest.

Silco hums absently; an indication that he acknowledges your discovery but finds little interest in it. You can imagine the man in the photograph making the exact same noise, were someone to distract him from his paperwork for a reason he deemed benign. You flip the photo over. No date.

“How old are you here?”

Silco exhales through his nose, places his pen down with a pointed clack, and extends his hand wordlessly toward you.

“Hah! Do you think I’m wet behind the ears?” you hold the photograph out of his reach, “You can tell just fine from over there thank you very much.”

He cuts you a scathing glance, before leaning forward in his chair with a foreboding creak to peer more closely at the image. His scarred lips purse slightly in thought.

“Mid–late twenties. I can’t say for certain.”

“You were hot.”

“Were?”

“Were and are,” you coo, reclining backwards over the desk into his space, one elbow pitched on his paperwork to hold your weight whilst you flap the photograph in front of his face, “Can I keep this?”

“For what reason?”

“Dirty ones.”

“Hardly necessary,” Silco says, the very corner of his mouth creasing upwards as he catches your wrist to halt your photo-flapping, “You have access to the real thing.”

“True, true, and you can be sure I’ll continue taking advantage of that.” You grin, shoving your captured, photo-wielding arm a little closer to him in emphasis, “But right now I’m talking about some alone time with this guy.”

Silco scoffs under his breath and releases your wrist. You twist onto your front, weight propped on both elbows as you admire the photograph in your grip. You trace a finger down the slender throat of the man in the photo, over the generous wedge of chest exposed by his open crimson collar.

“D’you think he’d notice me? If I came into that bar?”

“Oh I’m certain he would.”

“Yeah?” You lift your gaze from the man in the photo to the one before you – as equally breathtaking. More so. You catch your lower lip between your teeth. “What line would he use?”

Silco hums, low and thoughtful, leaning forward in his chair, closing in on your space. He picks up his abandoned pen, briefly twirling the implement until it’s poised between his elegant fingers like a cigarette. Nib safely facing his own palm.

“After downing the dregs of his drink for courage... he would have approached you.”

With sensual tenderness, he brushes the barrel of his pen along your cheek, warmed metal against warmer skin. Catching at the curve of your jawline, and tracing over your pulse in a way that makes it fumble a beat.

“Cast his gaze over each of your pretty, pretty features. One by one,” he murmurs, slowly drawing the end of the pen down your jugular, down the slope of your collar bone, to leisurely trail through the cut of your cleavage. The corner of your mouth hooks up. The warmth low in your belly coils a little tighter.

“He would have leaned in close,” Silco whispers, demonstrating just so, “Close enough that you’d almost taste the whiskey on his breath.”

Blunt metal drags a purposeful line up your throat, and your lips part softly as he tilts your face toward his with the barrel of his pen flat and firm beneath your chin.

“And asked you – very nicely – to stop leaning on his paperwork.”

You press your tongue against the inside of your cheek while Silco’s dual eyes sizzle with smug mirth. It’d be unthinkable, really – to forfeit either one for the sake of a matching pair.

You straighten and push off his desk, hips swaying as you saunter over to the bedroom with the photograph in hand.

“Well,” you say, pausing in the threshold and turning to him with a smirk, “If you need us, you know where we’ll be.”

#inky has spoken #fandom etiquette

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beetleluminary · 1 day ago

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Pavlovian Love - an analysis and prediction of Sar/Bien

This analysis has spoilers and assumes you've read BreadAVOTA until the latest update I1-5-RD, including the Further Reading sections and BienAVOTA.

Bien and Sar are interesting in their mandated un-interestingness: Bien is a character who is designated the antagonist instead of being the antagonist (which clearly mirrors Bread's cosmic role, although that's for a different post altogether). Sar, on the other hand, is a guy who just pops up with no context, no warning and no justification - though this reflects the "measure" he is tied to.

Being the most recently introduced character, Sar and Bien haven't had as much interactions compared to the other Nightmare Duo of BreadAVOTA, but the few chapters that do dwell on them have a vivid inspiration: Pavlov and his dogs.

"Fall in love, won't you now?"

The inspiration is no secret - Sar and Bien's introduction is blatantly labelled Pavlovian Love. What BreadAVOTA does interestingly is that it goes past the layman's knowledge of Pavlov and instead parallels the darker reality of Pavlov's experiments.

Let's start with the surface level interpretation, though. Sar "adopts" Bien and immediately starts conditioning him for his own ulterior motives. The "kindness" of all his interactions, from the superficially polite tone of his unreasonable request ("fall in love, won't you now?"), the constant preparation of food and the "leniency" for Bien's incompetence are all thin veneers over the character who is clearly the "actual" villain of the story.

With Bien being highly coded as a neurodivergent character, showing traits of both autism, schizoid personality disorder and schizotypal personality disorder (or even schizophrenia), Sar constantly talking to him like an ABA therapist would is hard to miss.

Sar's first encounter with Bien which immediately ends in Bien's "punishment" for attacking Sar, the very simple statement of "You don't tell me what I "should" be - I tell you", and all the lovebombing that comes afterward all points to his superficiality. He's nice to Bien as a form of conditioning him, and there's an underlying threat that if Bien goes out of line he'll get punished for it.

Yet Bien, despite being aware of this, can't help but feel a sense of flattery over Sar's exaggerated kindness, having been so deprived of kindness his entire life, like the dog that associates the bell with food even when it knows the sound won't satiate its hunger.

Food and the bell

Food is a common reward that Sar offers Bien in all their interactions, and we see Sar feed Bien in every update since they start living together: "Good [ Results and Discussion ]", "Christmas Cookies" and in Bien's personal blog entry, "(Call For) Help". In all three chapters, they also talk about music, with Sar playing a piano song before every dinner.

The food and the music have their own significance in the larger BreadAVOTA universe. The "food", which later turns out to be made of "Mindstuff", is said to be how Sar "satiates" Bien, although what it actually does is a little vague. We know Media sent Bon and Bien food supposedly made of the same stuff, with Media telling Bon in a letter that he sends stuff Bien needs to be "healthy" (complete with the air quotes), and it's largely implied the rest of the Living also eat MargiFood™ that Media insists is basically no different from "real" food... you know, for the Living.

Bien is (probably) part-Marginal, and the Marginals as a species are subtly implied to feel insatiable hunger, so the implication that Bien needs to eat "Mindstuff" might not be too surprising.

As for the music, for Bien, it's a way for him to connect to his father. And for the rest of the world, music seems to be one of the ways that magic is performed with: the Annotations seem to be preceded with a song, Sar says that songs are one of the linguistic presentations magic can take, and Ava describes Reality as a song, with the Wires of Reality making sounds and the Voice of Reality being the "chorus" of it.

Sar promises to teach Bien the piano, and with this in mind, Sar might be banking on using music as a way for Bien to rewrite Reality (supposedly because Ava's plans of making him a writer instead are going nowhere).

All that said, the constant association Sar makes with food and music evokes the imagery of the "classical" Pavlovian experiment: a dog is fed food while ringing a bell, and eventually it'll salivate when a bell rings even without the food.

Except for one thing...

There is no bell.

"I'm trying - and will now shred ████ without mercy"

Warning for animal abuse

Sar's shelf in I1-5-RD lets "you" (Bien) read excerpts from some of his books, and one of them contains a research paper about Pavlov's experiments (interestingly, with all mentions of Pavlov and dogs blocked out).

Although Pavlov's experiments are commonly taught to the general public and first-year psychology students to have used a bell, in reality his experiments were more complex (and often more brutal), using different stimuli like metronomes and electric shocks.

In Pavlov's studies of digestion, as the excerpt says, he would cut out a dog's esophagus and create a fistula. No matter how much a dog would eat, the food would fall out of its throat and never reach the stomach, meanwhile Pavlov and his fellow scientists would collect the secretions to study.

In "(Call For) Help", Bien complains about feeling the need to vomit, and Sar tells him that's impossible because there's nothing in him to vomit.

We see in I1-4 that Bien's body is completely hollow, and while it's never been completely explained there's implications here and there that because Demon's don't naturally have Bodies, their Bodies might only superficially resemble "Real" Bodies. What's interesting is that Sar spends all his time feeding Bien - for him to comment that there can be nothing inside of Bien to vomit implies Sar must have certain expectations of where exactly that food is going.

Bien does have one thing inside of him: blood... or something like blood. If he's meant to closely parallel Pavlov's experiment that could make for some interesting theories.

The feeding experiments aren't the only things Pavlov did to his dogs though, and Sar's actions parallel some of his other experiments. The "spinal cord surgery" (and the foreboding implication that it wasn't really "just" a spinal cord surgery but a full on vivisection, based on how Sar describes it) is similar to Pavlov's own experiments where dogs where vivisected to study their digestive systems, and Bien's current living conditions resemble the "laboratory for central nervous system research":

The Towers of Silence

Bien's point of view is never shown post-surgery: we're only ever shown Sar, who looks at "you" as if you were Bien and does all the talking. If Bien "says" anything we can only hear it from Sar repeating and implying it, but never from Bien actually being given the chance to speak.

It signifies Sar's dominance over him, both as a character and in the meta-textual context of the narrative. But besides that, Bien's perpetual silence is an interesting parallel to the Towers of Silence experiment.

The "Towers" were soundproof buildings where experiments were performed on dogs specifically to try and break them down into madness: random stimuli were paired together to see how the dogs would react, like electric shocks coupled with force-feeding. "(Call For) Help" shows this the most blatantly. Where Bien ate on his own (if reluctantly) in the previous chapters, in "(Call For) Help" it seems that Sar is actively force-feeding him, with the last lines being Sar telling Bien to stop fidgeting.

Ava, at one point in Bien's blog, compares herself to Bien, saying that Bien's neuroses over his isolation (at this time, when he was alone in the military bunker) reminded Ava of her own experience in the "Recursive Panopticon" - with I1-3's Further Reading section showing to us that the Recursive Panopticon seems to be something vague, surreal and maddening.

There's another very obvious parallel here in regards to being an experiment for brutal psychological experiments, of course...

Like Father, Like Son

Bien's not the first Demonic teenager subject to inscrutable experiments. That crown goes to his father, Bon, whose experiments under the Maldevaran Centre of Supranatural Research and Development were similarly vague and highly traumatic.

Here are excerpts about Milord and Postrel, two of the dogs the Towers of Silence, taken from the Kingdom of dogs exhibit (where the book on Sar's shelf is referenced from)

Milord - Markedly more placid and peaceful than POSTREL. Expected his experimentally induced breakdown to reflect inborn character difference. Hypothesis confirmed — M has broken in the direction of ‘inhibition’.* Previously established conditional reflexes disappeared. Stopped salivating to most ALL positive stimuli as shock was increased. Attempts to cure Milord with bromide solutions and rest unsuccessful. He has been retired. Phlegmatic character. Balanced, calm, consistent, not easily aroused. *Results later rejected in their entirety Postrel - We are combining shocks with food to test if breakdown can be experimentally induced, and if direction of break reflects inborn character — choleric in Postrel’s case. Hypothesis confirmed — Postrel has broken in the direction of ‘excitation’.* Previously established conditional reflexes are now erratic. Salivation in response to ANY stimuli excessive and undifferentiated. The animal’s reflexes are shattered. ‘Will now observe therapeutic effects of bromide salts. and rest. Choleric character. Lively, sociable, extremely excitable. *Results later rejected in their entirety.

Bon and Bien are really similar to the dog of Pavlov's experiment: the more "placid" Bon, who is better at controlling their Demonic "instincts" compared to the more "choleric" Bien, who was far more impulsive and violent. Bon breaking down and becoming more subdued seems to reflect Milord's results - we haven't seen what will happen to Bien yet, but if this parallel means anything then it looks like he's going to become far more erratic under Sar's care.

Going by how Bien reacted to his time with Ava in the bunker, this is likely to be the case - Bien already seems predisposed to neuroticism, constantly freaking out and fluctuating between childish excitement to detached and even cruel apathy in his appearances.

"Your presence (here) is of utmost value to the recipe..."

So Sar is an evil mad scientist and Bien is the schizoautistic kid he's bullying to the death. Alright, we can leave it there, I guess? Sar is nice to Bien because he's gaslighting and manipulating him, case closed.

Well, I recommend reading the paper that Sar's shelf has in full. The paper itself claims that its intention isn't merely to "damn Pavlov in retrospect" but to focus on the lives of the animals that were experimented on and to dispel the illusion that they were completely passive in the experiments.

As Todes noted, this set-up facilitated a relationship in some ways akin to 'pet and master'; it resembles what we might today call a companion species bond. That said, on the experimenter stand it was a relationship often defined by a shared tedium. The hours would often drag for both – experiments were monotonous and wearisome, involving little more than pressing a button to trigger a stimulus, measuring saliva, proffering small amounts of food at strictly regulated intervals. And then waiting. Apparently, a key challenge was staying awake – either animal falling asleep at the 'wrong' time was potentially ruinous for the experimental procedure. However, it also meant human and canine co-workers got to know each other to an unprecedented extent compared to Pavlov's early career.

Sar's and Bien's time together, despite their shared goal being something larger-than-life and implied to be urgent, is remarkably mundane. The contrast between the Protagonist Half being a disjointed mess of lulrandomxD events to the repetitive, maddening tedium of Bien's life is notable. Bien reads and writes and codes and reads and writes and codes, and when he moves to Anselir with Sar, Sar makes him do all those things again, enforcing a strict schedule on him as a way to keep time stable in the disjointed reality of Anselir.

The presentation of Sar and Bien's time makes it foreboding. Sar's constant dominance of the conversations, his creepy attitude, the visuals from Bien's point of view being a contrast of a dark background with neon text and highly pixellated and distorted graphics, and Bien's increasing incoherence and borderline-psychotic episodes, these are all different elements that make Bien's portions of BreadAVOTA notably more disturbing than Bread's half of the narrative.

And yet, when you look at it literally, nothing ever actually happens. Bien embodies the "measure" he is stuck in, as the Eye of Space.

Like the Towers of Silence, Bien's stuck in an inescapable torture (especially with the unspoken but horrifying implication that the spinal cord surgery "tethers" him to Anselir so that he can't ever leave), but it's not the type of violence we see happening in the Time measures (where violence, it seems, is rendered meaningless because it undoes itself).

Bien's torture is more psychological in nature. From his life at home, his time at the War, his time in the bunker to his present day in Anselir, Bien's lived a life of being constantly trapped, in a situation where no matter what changes it stays the fucking same.

...and more importantly, to me"

And the interesting parallel he has with Sar is that Sar is stuck in the same situation.

The obvious interpretation is that Sar is nice to Bien because he needs Bien for whatever bullshit experiment he's trying to run, and that he doesn't really care about Bien to any meaningful degree. And maybe that's true now, but my personal theory is that over the course of them being stuck together in Anselir, a place where it's confirmed that even short periods of time feel like forever, Sar's going to develop a genuine attachment Bien.

Sar's an enigmatic character whose motives are hard to guess, and a major factor to that is that we already met Anthony, and even though Sar is Anthony... well, he's really not like Anthony.

We don't know why exactly Sar is so different, but the author does say that being alone for so long drove him "mildly insane." Anthony's antisocial and seems to hate everyone to the point of considering hate as a more important emotion than love, so seeing Sar being so polite (no matter how fake) is a jarring change in character.

In I1-5, there's one detail I noticed. When Bien asks about the MargiBirds, Sar says that he adopted Media's mannerisms so that the Birds would listen to him. And Sar is... vaguely Media-like, in that Media himself is a person who is superficially polite just to get what he wants. But Media and Sar don't exactly act 100% alike, although it's hard to pinpoint in what way they differ. I guess in a way Sar has a more uncanny quality to him, even though Media's the one who's literally an alien computer ghost.

The last line here is pretty interesting. I think that in the absence of any "Living" company, Anthony gradually grew more miserable in Anselir, and his weird personality was a way to try and get the birds to interact with him more just so he'd have someone to talk to. And man, Sar talks a lot.

I can't help but feel that although Sar likely has his own secret goals that take priority, he does feel genuinely relieved that Bien is there with him to spend the tedium of eternity with, even if it might be less about Bien as an individual and more about just having an actual person in Anselir.

Results and Discussion (And Conclusion)

BreadAVOTA as a whole strongly delves on themes of isolation and alienation, and the (often terrible) results that come from having it imposed on others without them having the power to do anything about it.

The decision to make such a unique fictional world with a supposed focus on "worldbuilding" and yet to only ever show Maldevaran life in passing, and the tendency to focus on characters who are mostly unlikable and difficult to understand are risky decisions from a writing standpoint, and it's a little arguable whether rolypolyphonic actually does them well, but I recognize that there's a specific question being asked in choosing to make the story be about what it is. It's a question Ava herself asks Bien when she criticizes Bien's shitty fanfictions:

Why should anybody in the audience care about these unsympathetic characters?

Bien's reply is framed as "stupid", but it touches on one of BreadAVOTA's themes: "why do i need to write down why people need to "sympathise" with mieszko? it should be obvious. you should simply feel bad for anybody ever."

Bien being apathetic and violent usually would be in poor taste considering how he's so coded to be autistic/schizophrenic, but BreadAVOTA's worldbuilding helps toe around the fact by making physical "death" something more trivial and by focusing on the more existential aspects of Maldevaran philosophy, which touches upon the real experiences of people with "bad" mental illnesses: schizophrenia, personality disorders and and "conduct disorders".

The idea of people who become "villainous" as a result of poor upbringing isn't new to fiction, but BreadAVOTA does put an interesting focus on the "poor upbringing" not necessarily being explicit abuse or trauma but a more silent yet perpetual feeling of alienation and disconnect, fitting for the story's overarching theme being an "allegory for schizotypy".

The Kingdom of Dogs leaves us with this compelling message, which feels relevant to Sar and Bien and BreadAVOTA's themes as a whole.

It is an understatement to say that we rarely get to hear about these aspects of Pavlov's work today, a forgetting which extends to the majority of scholarship on Pavlov, where dogs appear only in passing as experimental objects, never as subjects about which we should express care or concern.

BreadAVOTA doesn't necesarily asks its audience to "like" or "care" about its characters, and as the breadposters (all three of us) have noted there's a tendency to make the characters hard to like or care about. But it's not a story that tries to convince you to like the characters. It's just taking the opportunity to express these uncommon perspectives from the first person point of view.

Paraphrased from the author's own words, "there's always the risk of offending people with my portrayal of being schizoid, so you can go and read books that say nothing bad about being schizoid by virtue of never saying anything about it at all."

I doubt that Sar and Bien's relationship will stop as something so one-sided and passive, where Sar tells Bien what to do and what to say, but that eventually it's going to be complicated by the effects that both of them faced being isolated growing up (Bien in his Exile, Anthony/Sar as the youngest Judge), the way they were pathologized for it, and the unhealthy concept of relationships they formed as a result.

#BreadAVOTA #psychoanalysis #Pavlov #webcomic #analysis #Sar #Bien

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janceezer · 2 days ago

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⚠️⚠️ arcane spoilers below ⚠️⚠️

I think I found the most fitting song for jayvik in the last episode (and beyond). I will be putting down lyrics from the song & then talk about how they relate to Jayce & Viktor.

The song:

(⚠️⚠️this is where the spoilers really start ⚠️⚠️)

„I swear I’ve known you for centuries”

Viktor has been searching for Jayce for like FOREVER. He’s probably spent months, YEARS, looking for the Jayce that would help stop the calamity that Hextech would cause. It probably felt like a great relief seeing Jayce.

„You’re heaven-sent, how you save me”

this can point toward Jayce, Viktor and frankly the both of them. In the greater picture, it fits perfectly onto Viktor’s conclusion of how „In all timelines, in all possibilities, only you, could show me this” > pointing to how they’re literally made for eachother. So you could say they were made by a higher power (whatever you believe in), to meet.

Then: in a way Mage!Viktor in season one, makes sure Jayce lives, so you could say he’s heaven sent and saved him. In every universe. & they save one another from suicide, jayce brings viktor to life again with the hexcore, etc etc.

Jayce got sent to a timeline in which total devastation happened, being observed by Mage!Viktor the whole time. It is Viktor who helps send him to Jayce’s original universe, in order to kill Viktor there, in order to save not just him, but also his entire universe. Even though Viktor becomes the Machine Herald, we later see Jayce save him „Because I promised you” & „We finish this together”.

„In our final hour, call on higher power,

Erase my sins, my communion,

Til death do us part, it’s a union”

This final hour literally refers to their final hour together (I personally do not believe them to be dead, but either way) in which by using the rune in Jayce’s arm, Viktor’s acquired power as Machine Herald, etc, they call on a higher power.

Viktor tries to push Jayce away, because he takes responsibility for having turned the commune into robots (taking away their lives), but Jayce insists. Jayce insists they do this together. They’re a union, a team, soulmates. Destined to find eachother in every universe. We pan to them touching foreheads, hands finding support on eachother. It’s a Union.

„A guiding light,

you’re my love divine”

Viktor has literally ascended to another plane by having transcended humanity. He died TWICE (jesus also died and lived again). He is compared to Jesus multiply times (on purpose I’m pretty sure). He has his hood over him like multiple saints in Biblical imagery, he performs a miracle by healing people who could not otherwise be healed. Then the kicker:

Here he is, being illustrated with the traditional divine circle around his head. Something that is seen in countless of Catholic, but more specifically Greek Catholic / Eastern European Orthodox Icons of saints:

So yeah he is LITERALLY put down as Jayce’s and so many others (which we see in the countless specks of gold around Jayce) “saviour”. But specifically pertaining to Jayce: he has been his guiding light, throughout the story. He saved Jayce from suicide, he guided him as the mage standing at Android!Jayce’s moss-overgrown corpse. They’re literal divine lovers.

Everything I have touched on so far, can be applied to the rest of the lyrics! It for me, really got to the core, of the depth of their connection. The song is accompanied by Organ instumentals, which really SELLS the Divine Worship image to me.

If you’ve read this far, THANK YOU!! I hope it was worth it! Please add to this in the comments with more connections to the song if you wish to!!!

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rabbit-flaying · 3 days ago

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Humanity's Collector

Genres: Fantasy and Science Fiction

Content Warnings: Dehumanization, Kidnapping, Casual Violence, Claustrophobia, Mild Cosmic Horror

Note: I want to get back to positing my writing on Tumblr. Maybe someone will recognize this. Probably not.

"Gosh you're pretty," Glade cooed, its voice sounding a bit like Harlow's mother, a bit like a brook, and a bit like paper being crumpled up and cast aside.

Harlow looked around desperately. For he had to find escape from the strange realm he had woken in. All manner of miscellany took up space in the void around him. It looked like a storage closet, if every storage closet in the world were connected together, and the possessions of kings and paupers alike were granted permission to socialize.

He ignored Glade and stood from his wicker chair, quickly overwhelmed by the sheer size of the realm and number of objects held within it.

Above him the color white stretched out into infinitum. True white, not the dirty kind found in snow and house paint. It hurt his head, making his temples throb and blood vessels contract, so he looked away from it.

"Where am I?" Harlow demanded. "Who are you?"

"My name is Glade," it answered. "You're in my home."

Harlow made the mistake of eye contact. Glade's eyes shone with the light of galaxies, a dazzling rainbow of nebulae, planets, and suns. The entirety of the universe, and many more beyond it, seemed tucked away within the perfectly spherical marbles buried in the putty-like flesh of its glowing face.

He finally broke away from the hypnotic sight, his puny brain unable to handle the visions within. How much time had passed, every one of his neurons firing at once in an attempt to process the cosmos of Glade's eyes? Seconds? Minutes? Hours, even?

He needed answers, yet he did not know the right questions. Glade didn't seem human, instead a creature from a story book. And this monolithic hoard couldn't possibly be real.

"Your home?" he asked in a strangled sort of voice, staring pointedly at the patch of ebony wood ground he stood upon.

"I'm a collector," Glade explained, running their sharp nails, painted with glitter and adorned with scraps of emeralds, through Harlow's silky hair.

"What do you collect, exactly?"

Harlow watched a glittering blue beetle crawl across the ground, finding a hiding spot underneath a red and purple feathered ball gown displayed on a copper mannequin.

"All sorts of things," Glade said, flapping its hands wildly in a mimicry of human excitement. "Your world is fascinating. I remember when your kind learned how to create fire and tame animals. You have grown so much since then. I needed to have one of you for my own. Your creations are not enough any more."

Harlow carefully took in Glade's appearance, avoiding its hypnotic eyes. Despite its alien nature- as clear to Harlow as it would have been to his ancestors as they huddled around campfires concocting stories to explain their world- it chose to appear humanoid, though not precisely human.

Glade was the kind of thing that would hide in a child's closet, and speak to them in a parental fashion, loathing the knowledge that the child would never be believed no matter how loudly they spoke of its existence.

Its iridescent skin glimmered, changing colors with every movement, no matter how slight, as stunning light produced by the void poured over its body. Its proportions sat beyond the human view of normal, uncanny like an airbrushed model, but far more monstrous. Behind its smiling lips were two rows of porcelain and copper teeth, slicing perfectly through its pale gray gums.

Delicate jewelry of book pressed flowers and dragonfly wings adorned its warped elven ears. It was clad in a fur cape, the stitched together pelts of numerous small animals, fur colors clashing and asymmetrical. Its heels, as thin as sewing needles and seemingly impossible to walk on, granted half a foot of height to their seven-foot frame.

"Don't worry," Glade continued. "I'll take care of you. I've been collecting humanity's creations for millenia. You may use what you find around you to its fullest extent."

"I want to go home," Harlow said, finally realizing that this was not a dream that could be banished away by opening his eyes and pouring himself a cup of black coffee mixed with salt. "Please let me go. I'm sure there's someone who would love to be here. But I like my life on earth."

"But I wanted you."

Glade hugged Harlow tightly, mimicking how it had observed humans comforting one another. Its skin had none of Harlow's warmth, and he found this hug as uncomfortable as cuddling with a marble statue would have been, if he had ever been bold enough to break the omnipresent rule of not touching museum exhibits.

Harlow closed his eyes. "I have to be dreaming," he said, his lie cloaked in a defeated sort of tone. "This can't be real."

"Of course this isn't real," Glade said, holding its newest acquisition out at arm's length. "But it isn't a dream either. You are within my home, far outside of your universe."

"Please send me back. I don't know why I'm here, or how, but I can't do this."

"Yes you can," Glade said. "It's easy. I will take care of you, and you will be my plaything. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Harlow broke away from Glade, and took off walking. There had to be an exit. Everything had an exit, whether it be a school or a church or a corner shop. The exits were always there, saddened as they were that so many people were afraid to break the rules and only took advantage of their ability to leave at certain appointed hours.

The void still seemed to stretch on into infinity, swelling larger and larger the farther and farther Harlow walked. But everything had an end if you traveled far enough to find it. Even the deserts that passed past any human line of sight and the mountains that seemed too high to ever climb over.

But now Harlow was applying rules from his original plane of existence to the alien one he had been so rudely whisked away to. And that was very foolish indeed.

"No, that doesn't sound nice," he said angrily, as Glade easily matched his pace, wearing a concerned expression it had stolen from a grandparent not too long ago. "I'm leaving."

"You can't leave. Because I didn't steal you. The original Harlow Finch Echowood is still in his home, playing solitaire and chatting away to his cat. You belong here with me."

Harlow stopped in his tracks, sitting down on an ancient jeweled throne. It had held countless kings before him, but he respected them not, only using their seat to keep from collapsing in shock.

Glade smiled. "We are going to have so much fun, and no one will ever know you to be here. Come now, I have food prepared for you."

"I can't eat your food," Harlow argued, remembering what he had learned from a book that lived in his elementary school library. It had worn a shiny green cover, and the name Susan Macintosh was written inside the front cover before his own. "I'd never be able to leave if I did that."

"I'm afraid you've mistaken me for some of my cousins," Glade said. "You will eat, or you will starve. And you're never leaving because you belong to me. It doesn't matter what you choose to do."

Harlow stood up, his dizziness replaced with a red-hot temper. "I hate you! Let me go! You can't keep me here!"

Glade looked deeply wounded, but Harlow knew within the depths of his very soul, that it was only mimicry of human emotion.

"I couldn't send you back, even if I wanted to. Then there would be two Harlow Finch Echowoods trying to live your singular and unique life."

"I don't believe you. I'm still me. I still remember my life."

"You are an exact duplication of the original Harlow Finch Echowood. You have the same soul and the same mind and the same DNA. Of course you still remember."

With every passing moment, Harlow's belief in Glade's words only grew. Any attempt to fight against them was snuffed out by diluted logic and the omnipresent knowledge that he was still alive. He breathed. Blood rushed through his veins. More importantly, his mind continued to produce thoughts and feelings to process the outside world.

"Just combine us again or something," Harlow begged. "I want to go home. I never asked to be brought here."

"I cannot combine nor reconstruct nor mend. I can only make copies of beautiful things, and things not quite so beautiful."

Glade spread its arms, gesturing to its hoard of human objects collected in centuries long past. The treasures of every empire ever risen and fallen was present, both the spectacular and the mundane side by side in a discordant visual melody.

"Why me?" Harlow asked. "I didn't do anything."

"You speak as though this is a punishment. I have simply added you to my collection." It flicked the tears from his face, scratching him with its nail. "Now come, I have made you good food."

Glade gripped Harlow's arm and dragged him far away, weaving throughout its collection at a brisk and even pace, avoiding falling into the gaps between pieces of floor, which only infinitum laid below.

Soon enough, they came upon a small 1950s era kitchen. Two marble counters, a dirty stove, and a teacup filled sink formed a corner tucked away between a row of unplugged televisions and a huge crooked stalagmite growing from the polished tile floor.

Glade opened the oven and pulled out a pan of fresh bread. Its hands were bare, but unburnt by the hot metal dish. It grabbed a knife from one of the many drawers and cut through the bread without displacing a single crumb, before laying the slice out on a neon green plate.

"Eat while it's still hot," Glade said with a bright smile. It was a well used expression by those of Harlow's time who prepared meals for other humans, and it planned to repeat it often.

In its time spent with Harlow, its teeth had dulled significantly, and its gums had taken on a pale shade of pink. Why it had not mimicked a perfect human before meeting Harlow was beyond him, and it seemed perfectly capable of warping its appearance to become more like him.

He reluctantly tried the seed filled bread, finding it to be heavenly and soft. Faerie food or not, he scarfed it down, suddenly famished beyond all reason.

"Thank you," he said automatically.

"I have much food. It is scattered about my home, and easy to find if you look. It never spoils, so you may feast on it as you please."

Harlow sighed, and clambered up to sit on the counter. An act of rebellion his twelve year old self would have been proud of, even if Glade didn't give him the smallest sliver of annoyance, having no understand of manners itself.

"I'm really never leaving…" he said, his voice like a half-deflated party balloon still adored by a kid who refused point blank to throw it in the trash. "If that's it then, what happens when you get bored of me?"

"I never get bored of my playthings."

"How big is this place? Is it a universe, or a realm, or a room in some alien mansion?" Harlow thought these reasonable enough questions, considering his circumstances.

"An infinite pocket dimension," Glade replied. "If you travel far enough, my collection begins to grow thin. There is a boundary of where my possessions lie, and after that is the abyss. It is nearly impossible to find one's way back from nothingness."

"I hate it here," Harlow said, as though he had not made this feeling quite clear before. "I want to be around other people. Not you."

"I will bring you some," Glade promised. "Allow me a few minutes to collect them. You shall have a companion, as all humans crave, or more than one if it suits your fancy."

Harlow froze, debating his own morality versus the loneliness soon to bloom from this isolation. How could he allow more people to be stuck in this horrible purgatory of preserved humanity, just so he could have someone to talk to? The truth? He couldn't bear it. At least, not yet.

"No," he begged, the first tears ever created in this pocket dimension blooming in his eyes. "Please, don't put anyone else through this. I'll be good. I won't complain. I promise."

"Oh, how you confuse me." Something odd bloomed over Glade's face, a poor mimicry of a half-understood human emotion. "I see… Come along then."

Harlow hopped off the counter and followed Glade as it walked under a vast canopy of safety pinned together curtains fashioned from every familiar fabric and exotic cloth created by the hands of humanity.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Glade called in a sing-song voice. "I've brought a new trinket. This one can talk, so I'm sure you'll like it."

People approached Glade and Harlow from the shadows. Well, not people, exactly. They were like Glade, monstrous and wonderful, stepping straight from a story book and into Harlow's waking nightmare. There stood more figures than Harlow could keep track of, intent on viewing the treasure Glade had discovered.

"I finally brought a human home," Glade said proudly, if such a being were capable of pride. "Isn't it just a doll?"

Harlow flinched as numerous hands and insect-like feelers crept over his body, Glade's companions examining him all too closely. He felt as though he had jumped into those foam pits he had so loved as a young child, touched in all directions yet floating in oddly empty space.

"Get off of me," he demanded, forgetting his promise not to complain as he shoved the nearest figure away. "Stop it. I said stop!"

Harlow tried to break free of them, pushing and shoving, even striking at them with closed fists and elbows. But he was pulled back, the creatures murmuring in appreciation on how bizarrely Glade's newest acquisition behaved.

"Stop touching me," Harlow cried. "Please. I hate being crowded. What are you doing?"

"What is it doing?" the specter asked. It brought its freezing yet intangible hand to Harlow's face, as though to seize his tears.

"That is so weird," another remarked, clicking its pincers in an oddly specific pattern.

The different figures murmured to each other, formulating explanations.

"Is it because we're touching it?"

"It's water… I think."

"He's crying," Glade explained, flapping its hands in mimicry of human excitement. "It means it's upset. Isn't it the most delightful thing?"

"I hate you," Harlow said thickly, as tears continued to stream down his reddened cheeks. "I want to go home."

"You are so repetitive," Glade remarked, before perfectly imitating Harlow's voice. "I want to go home. I want to go home. I want to go home."

Harlow finally relented. As the nightmarish figures poked and prodded him, discussing him amongst each other, he only hoped that they would soon grow bored and move on to newer shinier pursuits.

How could he stand to do this for the rest of eternity?

#Writing #Creative writing #Writblr #Short story #Humanity's Collector #Fantasy #Fantasy writing #Original fiction #Science fiction #Science fiction writing #Cosmic horror #Whump #Whumpblr #Whump writing #Nonhuman whumper #Human whumpee

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