#was REAL METAL and the BEST and HOW DARE

[gloriousmonsters]

me, wistfully: i know it's not going to happen but what if charlie just died in this episode and it's about the band now

[starkeyisthelastname]

stepbro!rafe who’s so pussy whipped and he doesn’t even realize till he accidentally cums inside

Rafe Cameron’s mind had always been a messed up and as “normal” as he tried to act most of the time, he found himself wanting to do nasty things with his step-sister of all people. The same sister that was sweeter than Sarah if that could even be possible. He felt that it was his job to guide you and teach you things your naive 19 year old self didn’t know anything about. Sure Ward could show you the ropes on how to be financially responsible and invest your money to make more, but he wanted to teach how to take a real dick.

It was easy to get you reeled in, now that you were truly stepping into the adult world you became curious about sex and even being nearly the same age he was more experienced than you. It didn’t take much to find himself in your room every night, fingers buried inside your tight cunt as he stretched you out.

It was when he pushed himself inside you for the first time that he completely lost it. He couldn’t help but let out a few small groans, eyes rolling back as he focused on just how tight you wrapped around him. “Shit…” He breathed out, blue eyes coming back to watch you.

“Rafey…” You whimpered, voice fragile as your step-brother’s huge cock began to thrust in and out of you. You knew this had to be wrong somehow, but you loved Rafe and put all your trust into him. (That was just your naive mistake.)

Rafe was selfish, wanting to enjoy it for him. Sure he hoped it made you feel good, but right now this was the best pussy he had ever had the pleasure of being in. “Shh.. alright? Don’t fucking start whining. Just take it like a good girl.” He rasped out in that nasally rich boy tone.

You wanted to make Rafe proud and that’s exactly what you were going to do by laying there and taking it. It was an overwhelming amount of pleasure and your lower stomach was feeling funny the harder he pounded your sopping hole. Your long lashes fluttered close, quiet moans leaving your mouth as you tried not to be loud.

Rafe was having a hard time staying composed. How dare his step-sister have a cunt this magical? He was losing his pride each passing moment the more you squeezed him and the more he thrusted in. He was becoming completely pussy whipped for you and his frustration had his hand around your throat in seconds.

Your eyes immediately shot open at the metal ring digging into your neck as he brutally fucked you. You felt as if you should be scared, but you felt quite opposite. It turned you on, made you clench around his dick as you creamed around him. Your smaller hand came to rest on his own that was against your throat, mouth opening in a hoarse whine.

“Make a mess on your step-bro’s dick. Yeah…you are a freak aren’t you? Getting off on being choked and getting dicked down.” He rasped out, turned on more than he ever had been.

Rafe was sure he had just fallen in love. Of course it was his step-sister of all people. The way you looked right now. The way you felt right now. He had never came inside any girl raw, but there you were coming down from an intense orgasm looking so fucking beautiful. His eyes darkened, staring down at you through slits as his seed painted your insides white. He didn’t even know that he had just exploded inside of you until he heard you whimper at the new feeling.

[sea-lanterns]

A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET

synopsis: (slasher! AU) the killer that haunts your dreams is real.

featuring: rosaria

rating: 18+ smut (men and minors dni)

warnings: sub! afab fem reader, dom character, character is a serial killer, mentions of blood, mentions of gore but nothing like that happens, rosaria has knives, dark humor, reader is a virg.in, slight degradation, knife play, predator and prey ki.nk, cunnilin.gus (reader recieving), biting, reader gets nicked accidentally, may be ooc.

art credits: tomie

Perhaps it was the paranoia that was gnawing at your chest, but you felt as if someone was watching you from the dark corners of your room ever since you got into bed. For the past few nights or so, your dreams have been haunted by the same, shadowy woman that would chase you down in various parts of your town, waking you up just before she could get close enough to get her hands on you. Every night you would wake up drenched in a cold sweat, heart pounding with adrenaline as everything these dreams did made you feel as if you were living it in reality. You hadn’t gotten a decent night’s sleep in a while, the bags under your eyes prominent and worrying everyone you knew around you. 

Get therapy perhaps? No, no matter what everyone suggested, you knew this was more than simple nightmares and hallucinations. The woman felt real, she is real. The way she would hunt you down with a looming prescience, her tired smile haunting your visions while she dragged her blade-like gloves across the wall, emitting a painful screeching noise that would play on repeat whenever you started feeling anxious. This wasn’t good, you needed this to stop and you needed it to stop now. 

“I’m going insane…” you mumbled to yourself, laughing deliriously from the lack of sleep and staring at the ceiling of your room. Oh goodness, you were tired. You needed sleep but you knew that if you fell into dreamland, that woman would appear again and try to kill you. Every touch, every breath, she drew closer in your sleep, taunting you to close your eyes and let her ravish you in your dreams. 

“I can’t…” your eyes felt heavy, her smile a taunting reminder for you to close your eyes. “I…”

Close your eyes…

It felt as if she were whispering it into your ear, your consciousness on the edge of falling towards her. You wondered if you could do something about this, something that could stop her from tormenting you with her prescience. But alas, you found yourself feeling heavy, the ghostly hands caressing your cheek and drawing you in like an invisible invitation. 

You can’t…

Close your eyes…

The curse you let out was violent. Angry. You wanted to punch yourself in the face for falling asleep so easily, trying to will yourself to wake up before the woman appeared again. As you looked up at your surroundings, you found yourself on the campus of your university, yet there was no one else around and it was pitch black dark outside.

You began walking along the path of your campus, feeling uncomfortable with being out in the open like this. You figured you should probably hide, but honestly it wasn’t like hiding was your best chance of survival. No matter where you ran or hid in your dreams, that damned shadowy woman would always find you. 

A memory of her appearance flashed before your eyes, her tall, looming figure casting her presence in your mind. Rosaria… you remembered her name. How she would purr it in your ear moments before she was about to strike. Rosaria… you wouldn’t dare forget it, her wicked smile stretching ear to ear like a cat toying with a mouse. 

You jolted when you thought you heard the screeching noise of metal against metal. Her claws. Oh how could you forget about her claws? They were the thing that frightened you the most about her. The way they would eerily scratch against the wall to warn you of her presence…

Speaking of her claws, you should probably move faster. It was getting to the point in your dreams where she would make her presence known.

You hurried off the sidewalk and into one of the buildings of your university, hoping you could survive until your brain eventually woke up. Your university looked and sounded eerie without anyone else inside the building, your footsteps echoing on the tiled floor as you kept a lookout for your killer. 

Everything felt straight out of a horror film, each moment of silence building up the suspense. You were surprised you didn’t wake up automatically due to your unusually high heart rate (or die of a heart attack). As you continued walking, you felt as if your footsteps were echoing a little louder than usual…

You stopped. Took one step forward, and the step ricocheted twice as loud through the walls. Another step. Another. You stopped again and felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You didn’t think she would find you so soon. 

Without turning around to see if she was actually there, you bolted. The footsteps behind you breaking into a sprint as well as panic began to settle into your nerves. How does she always find you so fast? You let out a cry and tried upping the pace, not bothering to look back. “Leave me alone!” You cried out desperately, tired of these endless nightmares where you felt like you were in a constant death cycle. 

Rosaria didn’t say anything, but you knew she could hear you. Your mind whirling with ways of how to escape from her and mapping out possible hiding spots. The boiler room… you figured you could hide in there, almost no one ever knows how to get down there except for you and the custodians. 

You took a sharp corner and ran to the door that had a Do Not Enter sign. So, like the rebellious woman that you were, you entered anyway. 

It was darker than usual in the basement. The cinder block walls were covered in a thick mildew that made you cover your nose with your sleeve. You forgot how musty it was in here, but nevertheless you found yourself a nice hidden corner to tuck yourself in and hide. You didn’t know when your body would finally wake up, when this nightmare would finally end. All you could do was sit there and wait, hoping morning came before that woman could find you… 

You recalled the first time you encountered her in your dreams. She had some pretty nasty scarring on her face that came from what looked like a burn, however underneath all that rough exterior, you could make out a beautiful face underneath. 

Damn. For a woman as insane as she was, she was still attractive for your tastes. You rested your head on the metal of some pipe, scrunching up your nose at the thought. Of course you had a thing for scary women, but honestly now was not the time to crush on your killer… 

You heard that high-pitched screeching noise of her metal claws dragging against the wall again, causing you to tense up. She was close. You held your breath and tried to make yourself appear as small as possible, shoving yourself deeper into the corner that you wedged yourself in. The handle of the basement door twisted open, its click reaching your ears and making you freeze in place.

How the hell did she find the hidden door?

The woman’s heavy, intimidating footsteps slowly roamed around the basement. A small hum leaving those cracked lips of hers as she got closer and closer. Well, you were trapped. With your back against the wall, you knew you had no place to run and squeezed your eyes shut.

Her footsteps suddenly stopped, but they sounded quite close to where you were hiding. This was it, this was how you would die. In your dreams, in your sleep, where no one will be able to figure out the real cause of your death in the real world. 

Cold metal lightly traced the bottom of your chin, making you let out a whimper. A small, strained chuckle left the woman in front of you, her face stretching into a grin at the sight of you.

“Open your eyes, girl.” Her voice was raspy and grated, it was like she hadn’t spoken in a long time. Her grip tensed a bit more around your chin, making you yelp pathetically for fear of her claws nicking you. She chuckled at the yelp, gently brushing your cheek with a claw and silently ushering you to obey. 

You did, slowly opening your eyes and focusing on the woman in front of you. Rosaria…

She was just how you remembered her. That same, sleazy smile plastered on her disfigured face, the burn marks and scars running over her skin but failing to hide her beauty. Your biggest fear was standing right in front of you, cupping your face in her hands (claws?) and having you knelt pathetically on the floor for her. You hated it. Hated how pathetic you looked, hated how she stared down at you like the victor of the hunt. She had you cornered so easily and you hated it. 

“You look like you want to bite my nose off.” Rosaria chuckled, gently poking your nose with the tip of her finger. She would pinch it if she could, if not for the knives she had on her fingers. “Like a cornered rat…”

You glared at her, as that nickname was uncalled for. However, it seems that Rosaria didn’t see it as a bad thing, as she continued “petting” your face and making your nerves dance under her fingers. 

“--and to think that I found you in the boiler room too. Don’t look so upset, rats are quite the intelligent creatures, and it took several dreams of chasing you to finally have you in my grasp.”

You gulped as her bladed fingers slowly traced over your cheek, over your lips, and then down your neck. Maybe you were just imagining it, but her eyes almost looked…intrigued. Watching the way a small lump of saliva went down your throat from how nervous you were, admiring the goosebumps on your skin as she traced a blade over the groove of your neck, almost like she was about to slit it. 

“You are surprisingly calm for a woman who has several knives to her neck.” Rosaria comments, finally making eye contact with you again and smiling. “Or perhaps, you’re too scared to say anything to me?’

Well what can you say? Please let me live? Fuck you for ruining my sleep schedule? It didn’t matter anyways, your last words would be heard from a serial killer that only existed in your dreams. There really was no point in talking to her. 

Your lips formed a thin line and you closed your eyes, admitting defeat and knowing when you had been bested. She won. She caught you and wore you down, your body too tired to even fight back after all these days. 

Rosaria simply stared back at you for a while, her face blank as she watched you submit yourself.

“...Silly girl.” she chuckles, licking her scratched up lips and tilting your chin up to look at her. “Are you waiting for me to slit your throat? Gouge out those pretty eyes perhaps? Murder you?” She let out another dry laugh, watching the tears in your eyes make your pupils appear all the more glossy. Gods above you were cute. Quite pathetic, but very, very cute to the killer. “You’d be fun to murder, but much more fun to keep around.”

“...H-Huh?” the word came out quite dumbly, almost instinctively from how tired you were. 

“Don’t get me wrong. I quite enjoy hunting pretty girls like you,” she ran a blade across your head, almost like a caress. “You scream, you cry, it’s adorable. But…I like you, little rat.”

She grinned again when you subtly pouted at her. She would have to keep calling you a rat more often. “You are very resistant, staying awake for as long as you can, drinking all those caffeinated energy drinks so you don’t fall asleep.”

“H-How did you–”

She cut you off before you could question her more, one of her blades moving dangerously quick to shut your lips. She was amused at how quickly you froze up, fear settling in as you were afraid she would cut your lips. “Hush now…” she murmurs, lowering her body a bit so that she is directly in front of you. “Don’t question things beyond your understanding, girl. Your cute brain will hurt too much.” 

She laughed as she belittled you, treating you as if you were some child. You gritted your teeth and wanted to say something back, but the blade on your lips was still there. “Listen…I know how desperately you wish to wake up, to get away from me…” 

She leaned in and purred into your ear, a shiver running down your back.

“So why don’t I help you?” 

You nearly jolted at the implications, your face feeling hot from how much adrenaline was rushing through your veins. Rosaria smiled at your fear, before clarifying herself. “I won’t kill, or harm you in any way. To wake up from my dreams, your heart rate must exceed a certain amount, yes? Then your body will wake up on its own…”

Your breath hitched when you suddenly felt another set of blades trail down your stomach, her other hand making its way to your nether regions. 

“I can accelerate your heart rate in another way.”

Before you could ask her what she meant, she suddenly moved closer to you, her lips dangerously close to yours. A gasp left your lips, having never been so close to your killer before. She was even more attractive up close, every scar and burn on her face simply adding to her horrifying beauty. You couldn’t look away from her. 

“May I…?” she hummed. 

“What?”

“Kiss you.”

She was blunt with her answer, tracing your stomach under your shirt with a blade. “I promise you’ll feel even better than…” she laughed a little, “Say, getting killed.” 

Her humor was dark, but it was fitting for a woman like her. You wanted to say no at first, but the more you thought about it, the more you gazed upon her and her features, you felt a small part in the back of your mind say yes. 

“Okay…” you responded meekly, a bit hesitant but curious. Rosaria’s smile widened, pulling you so close your lips nearly brushed against her on the spot. “You’ll enjoy it.” 

She then pushed her lips against yours, the feeling bringing a burning feeling to your core. Her lips were dry and slightly cracked due to her scars, but even if it felt odd at first, you found yourself almost intrigued by the feeling. Her lips were warm. Somehow comforting in a way as she pushed you up against the wall and kissed you harder. 

Oh…how soft your lips were. Rosaria had long forgotten what soft, unscarred lips felt like. She wanted to touch them, kiss them, lick them, she was absolutely enamored by how sweet and plush they were. 

“Damn…you’re soft…” Rosaria murmured, her lips turning into a grin mid-kiss, before smushing them against you once more. “You might die of asphyxiation because of me instead…”

She chuckled at her dark jab of humor, before growling more hungrily into the kiss and wanting her tongue inside you. As you whimpered at how rough she was getting, you felt her hot tongue lick a stripe against your lips, seeking entry into your mouth. You obeyed, parting those lips she loved so much and allowing her to taste you from the inside. 

Rosaria loved the submission. Her eyes fluttering shut in pleasure while she groaned at the feeling of your tongue meekly pushing back. She parted away and licked the messy drool from the corner of your mouth, smirking at the absolutely dazed expression you gave her as it was clear this was your first time. “Never had another woman’s tongue in you before?” Rosaria hummed, gently tapping the outside of your cheek. “It’s okay, that means it’ll be easier to get your heart pumping twice as fast…”

She dove right back in for another kiss when you weren’t paying attention, dragging her blades down to your shorts. They were the thin kind, just comfortable sleeping shorts you often wore to bed, which made Rosaria all the more happier. “So thin and raunchy…I can’t believe you sleep in these every night.” She smiled and used the tip of her blades to tear the fabric with ease, the sound ripping through your ears and causing goosebumps to form on your thighs. Rosaria pulled away from you, licking her lips as the tatters of what used to be your shorts hung from your knees. 

The woman’s eyes narrowed upon your choice of underwear for the night. Simple, yet very cute cotton panties that barely covered your virgin cunt. She didn’t miss the way your arousal so shamelessly seeped through the fabric of the underwear, clearly turned on by what she was doing to you. “Ah…so wet, hm? Never realized you got all hot and bothered by serial killers?” She grinned at your embarrassment and pulled the elastic on the waistband with her finger. 

It seemed she was gauging how far the elastic would stretch before it inevitably snapped under the sharpness of her blade, enjoying the thrill of seeing more and more of your privates. 

“So pretty and hot.” Rosaria rasped, the growl in her throat prominent as she finally tore your panties to shreds. You let out a gasp and tensed at the sight of her finger blades so close to your cunt, dangerously close as something so sharp next to something so sensitive was making you scared. 

Scared…? Or aroused? You honestly had no idea as that small pulse of heat in your core was difficult to gauge. 

“Mmm…spread your legs for me, pretty girl,” Rosaria hummed, ushering for you to lay on your back and prop yourself up using your arms. You were in such a vulnerable position, legs spread and stomach exposed, looking like a little rodent that had been ensnared under the claws of the carnivore. “Have you ever been eaten out?” 

Your eyes widened and you shook your head no, having only seen that sort of thing in pornos and 18+ films. Rosaria smirked and suddenly got down on her knees in front of you, opening her scarred lips and extending her tongue out almost teasingly. “Well, you’re about to experience it now.” 

She grabbed your hips, ensuring you wouldn’t squirm away –which was pointless because you had nowhere to squirm to– and caged you underneath her mouth. It really did feel like you were about to be eaten by a predator, the way she so hungrily drooled at the sight of you twitching so needily. After savoring the sight of you for a few more moments, Rosaria was finally ready, letting out an almost animalistic growl and licking up your inner thighs.

Just like the rest of her, her tongue was quite rough. Except it wasn’t as uncomfortable as you thought, her rough tongue slowly inching its way to the delicate muscle of your clit, making you arch your back a little. “Mm…down.” Rosaria commanded firmly, making your back hit the floor again as she licked small ministrations getting closer to your heat. With each lick, each hot breath from her mouth, you felt your pussy throb with need, a choked gasp leaving your throat. 

Rosaria smiled to herself at how desperate you looked, having successfully gotten you to submit and feel the pleasures she had to offer you. She took one last look at your pathetically lustful face, before focusing on her next target; your clit. 

She leaned in and finally placed her tongue on your swollen clit, making you jolt and whine at the sensation. Rosaria had to hold you down again, groaning and getting impatient with you for being so jumpy. “Down.” She growled again, gently nipping at your clit as punishment for disobeying her orders. 

You cried out, legs shaky from the stimulation that Rosaria was giving you. She went down again, slowly licking long stripes across your clit before wrapping her lips around it and sucking. Though the noises she was making were raunchy and embarrassing for you, you couldn’t deny the satisfaction she gave you whenever she paid attention to the areas you needed the most. 

Your body heat only rose more as Rosaria traced her tongue more over your folds, sliding the tip in between them and making your heart rate spike. The more gasps and whines you let out, the more Rosaria slobbered over your cunt, getting hungrier and hungrier for your orgasm. 

“Oh…shit.” Rosaria grumbled to herself, slotting her tongue deeper and getting drunk on the taste. “You taste really good…” 

Her tongue continued to make wet slurping sounds, trying to draw you closer to your orgasm. You had never gotten wet or orgasmed before in your life, so to have your virginity taken by a nightmarish serial killer was almost pathetic when you put it into words–

Oh, but what the hell. She felt so good and you couldn’t bring it in yourself to be mad anymore. Your hands made their way to Rosaria’s hair and tangled into her wine-colored hair, tugging on them and bringing her closer to your cunt. She let out an almost breathless sigh at that, smushing more of her face into your thighs. 

“Didn’t think you had it in you to do that to me.” She groaned, enjoying the way you grabbed onto her short hair. “You have guts I’ll give you that.” 

She let you hold onto her like a lifeline, pushing her tongue further and watching you cry out in ecstasy. You didn’t think her mouth would feel so good, and Rosaria didn’t think your pussy would taste this good. Both of you were entangled in a world of pleasure with each other, your whines further spurring Rosaria on and making her want to see you orgasm for the first time. You felt your body getting close, your heart pumping wildly in your chest and making you feel as if you were about to burst. 

“Coming so soon…?” Rosaria hummed, that same sleazy smile stretching on her lips. “Quite pathetic, but it’s adorable.” 

You would normally have something snarky to quip back at her, but the only thing that left your lips was a half-strangled moan. She continued pushing you, edging you with her tongue as she brushed over your entrance with those scarred lips of hers. This, combined with the sensation of her thick tongue maneuvering deep inside you was enough to make you see white. Your walls tightened and your thighs instinctively clamped around Rosaria’s face, causing one of her claws to accidentally nick you in the process.

It didn’t hurt, if anything it felt more like a paper cut, but Rosaria was so stunned by your reaction that she didn’t expect you to suddenly orgasm on her tongue. A loud, needy whine escaping your throat and making her own pussy throb at how much you enjoyed her. As your hot cum spilled out onto Rosaria’s face for the very first time, your heart rate had accelerated at speeds that you didn’t even feel when being chased by Rosaria previously. 

You felt your body go numb from the aftershocks of your very first orgasm, the dreamy world around you starting to fade. 

“Good girl…” Rosaria said under her breath, kissing your clit for the last time, before you closed your eyes. “Next time wear some sexier panties the next time you go to sleep.”

You blacked out after that. 

You jolted from your bed, covered in sweat and with your heart hammering in your chest. Your breathing was unsteady and you felt like you had gone on the wildest roller coaster in your life, the adrenaline still coursing through your bloodstream from the aftermath of what occurred in your dream. 

The cracks of daylight began to seep in through your bedroom window, telling you that you had slept through the night and that it was now morning. The world of reality suddenly didn’t feel too real to you anymore, and you wondered if the dream was a genuine dream that you had, or if it really was the ghost of Rosaria haunting your nightmares again. 

A dull ache made itself known to you between your legs, causing you to wince. As you moved the blankets off of you, you were shocked to see the absolute mess you had left on your sheets; a giant wet spot which formed at where your pussy was, and tatters of your shorts and underwear left scattered around your bed. However, what shocked you most of all, was the small line of red that you saw on the outer part of your thigh, a small trickle of blood that didn’t hurt, nor did you feel when you went back to reality. 

If the mark was anything to go by, you knew that these dreams were definitely real, and that Rosaria was real too if this was the case. You gently traced the red mark with your finger, but didn’t make an effort to clean it up, too distracted with your own thoughts to think straight. 

Slowly, you slide out of bed, but not before looking at the can of a half drunken energy drink sitting on your nightstand. 

You looked at the drink, sloshed the liquid inside it to see how much was in it, before throwing it out in the bin. 

[brynn-lear]

Sugar Pills (Yandere!Capitano/Reader)

Questionable Overview: You're getting real tired of Dottore's theatrics. Which is a great shame, considering how it's only now that Capitano learns the value of surface acting and masking. (from my series: #Capitano's So-Called Liability)

CW/Tags: there is no "real" age gaps since this is a Howl's Moving Castle scenario, slowburn/soft yandere themes, afab!reader, mild violence. While this fic isn't "too dark", the reader isn't mentally stable. Please prioritize your mental health first, you matter.

Prev || Next

When coming up with a proposal, you've learned that it's best to approach a harbinger when they're in the middle of an arms race. It's been ages since you've applied this knowledge, but luckily, dusting off memories of yesteryears isn't challenging.

"Can't even spare me a proper welcome?" You yawned, dropping a beaten and dead fatuus just inches away from an unforgettable metal-laced shoe. The sound of their empty vision clunked on the hard floor. "I might not be as much in the spotlight these days, dear, but isn't it good manners to greet your elders properly when they visit?"

The aforementioned shoe brushed the body away. "Hah. You make a terrible habit of flaunting that cosmetic age of yours."

And yet, there you stood, glaring with a smug head up high. No ordinaire can don the demeanor you flaunt in front of the second-ranked harbinger. You'll always keep the cloak-and-dagger act. Dramatics are second nature to those who earn their keep through blood money. You only saw it right to greet him with a more appropriate entrance. Bold and unfaltering in resolve.

"And you have a great habit of looking younger with each passing day," you feigned a chirpy tone. "Isn't that right, Doctor?"

Behind a crow's mask, crimson eyes bore holes into your very being.

Since you received that "birthday present" from him, he had sent out men to secretly nag you behind the Captain's back. They ask you why you haven't taken the medicine at best and attempt to drug you at worst. This rendezvous had been going on for weeks. Enough times that could manifest anger and murderous intent out of you until it did.

After reaching the limit of your patience, you murdered the last person to spike your perfectly fine water, took his vision and portable waypoint, and teleported to his master harbinger's base. Too much work just to get someone to stop pestering you.

The feeling is mutual. Il Dottore— the last of his perspective— also found your presence troublesome.

The second-ranked harbinger spent his "free" time in a painfully bright, pale room. He likes to dub this phase a "recovery state." Typically, there would be plenty of "him" to go around— but striking a deal for a gnosis always beckons a great deal of self-sacrifice. Or self-sacrifice-s. 

Hence why you pushed to visit him this instance. Despite his placid demeanor, you're confident he's eager to prove that there's a method to his madness. Oneself is always the greatest competitor. 

A proper arms race. 

"You know very well that I do not take youth as a compliment," he retorted, though his tone was considerably friendly. He made repeated tapping motions on his armchair, almost impatiently. "What trivial matter have you dared to interrupt my brainstorming session with? Speak now— I'll let you know I'm engaged with matters of greater significance."

"I've done my due diligence of personally replying to your last letter." You glared down at your last victim. "Consider this my thanks."

Without tearing your gaze away, you fished the medicine from your coat and threw it at his chest with all your might. The bottle shattered on the floor.

Greatly "offended" by your rude antics, Dottore defeatedly abandoned his scrawls and turned to properly look at you.

"You decided to skip the pills. How delightfully reckless of you, Granny (Y/n)." He sardonically smiled.

At least he has the decency to name you correctly.

You rolled your eyes as you approached. Once you were just a foot away, you stabbed the corpse's head once more with your cane's pointed base— the force harsh enough to splatter the livor mortis flesh and brain matter on the floor of his beloved laboratory.

What an unnecessarily extreme scene, befitting of your old title.

"I grow tired of your games, Zandik." You spat back. "Must you constantly send your men to make futile attempts to lace my food with your de-aging concoction? I don't appreciate discarding their bodies— much less some perfectly fine meals."

If Capitano were here, he would've made a vague comment about how your value on human life is concerning.

But he doesn't have to know about this interaction.

"You complain about my work, yet I vaguely recall an era in your life in which you'd routinely wake up screaming like a rooster in the morning." Dottore shrugged and pointed to himself. "And who provided you with a cure-all for those night terrors? Go on. I would be enthused to know."

You crossed your arms. The jaded look in your eyes heightened his interest. Hence, Dottore stood up, his footsteps crunching the shattered glass strewn about.

"Let me wager a proper hypothesis for this ...irrational behavior. A possible psychological or existential leaning toward death may be at the root of the patient's ongoing resistance to the recommended treatment." He craned his head like a bird inspecting its prey. "In simpler terms for meager minds like yours to understand: you're not accepting my charity since you wish to die. Is that right?" 

Dottore is a reasonable man. Disarmingly charming, even.

This particular segment just hates you.

You smiled back, returning the same malice.

"Who knows?" You tapped the beak of his mask. "Doesn't matter. I didn't come here to get psycho-analyzed. I came here because I want to strike a deal."

Dottore paused.

"I had a prediction that you would ensnare me with a gambit. No small wonder that Omega has found you a captivating individual, (Y/n)."

Many miss the fact that the good Doctor has a "seductive" air about him. He has a charisma that people will either dismiss in fear or fall victim to. You're part of the secret third group— the coworkers immune to his antics.

"Yes, well, I do pride myself on hosting the best picnics by the meadows of Ardravi Valley." You spoke, voice oozing with the same playful banter you once reserved for his deceased copy. "I've got no abundance in lifespan like you. I'd dare say I'm selling myself at a very limited-time offer."

However, this Dottore was not the one you befriended. This was his murderer.

"Playing the card of wisdom with that appearance may fool the world, but you can't dissuade me." Dottore clicked his tongue. "Are you mimicking Sohreh?"

What a surprisingly plain question.

You shrugged. "Am I?"

Feigning impassivity while he could, the Doctor placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Talk."

"I've only one wish, which is for you to stop being such a nuisance." You scoffed. "What can I do to get you to stop trying to make me your side experiment, Doctor?"

Intuition rarely fails you. You knew that this was a matter that could be reasoned with. The problem is that you needed to figure out what your bargaining chip would be. But by the look on his face, he had already sorted that out minutes, maybe even months, before you arrived.

His hand that once hovered on your shoulder slowly snaked towards your neck.

"I have a proposal," Dottore spoke softly.

You hardened your expression. "Spill."

"I can assist you in experiencing that honorable death you craved so much— at the right time and place." Using his thumb, he applied mild pressure against your throat. "However, I'll need you to befriend the upcoming tourists in Natlan."

You blinked.

… What a strange request.

"Befriend… The tourists?" You grabbed his intrusive hand, yanking it away. "What are you on about?"

"Under favorable circumstances, I would have had a copy extract these, but the old conventional tools are unavailable."

"But why?" You raised an eyebrow. "Dear, I just can't quite wrap my head around why this is the gamble you're betting your chips on—"

"And that is precisely why The Tsaritsa dubbed you La Ruffiana and not a respectable title," Dottore smirked, chuckling lowly. "Hence, I'll gladly elucidate you with brief guide questions in a language you're sure to comprehend."

"I'd rather we both save time by revealing the answer, pronto."

Since you had forgotten to let go of his wrist, he used your grip to pull you closer to him.

"Tell me, (Y/n), during the Sumeru fiasco…" With faces just inches away from each other, he tilted and teased your ear with his breath. "Who, indeed, served as the paramount subject in my quest to engineer a being that transcends even the might of the archons?"

… Who?

You placed a hand on his chin to create a respectable distance. "Child, I really hate to say this, but the world doesn't just spin around you and your little experiments. I wouldn't know a thing about that poor, nameless puppet you're on about. But if I had to take a wild guess, you're talking about that man you went and turned into a sorry excuse for an All-Knowing God, aren't you?"

Dottore grinned, baring his sharp teeth.

"I perceive that our memories from that period have been tampered with. Nevertheless, your hypothesis remains merely superficial. There exists an individual whom I regard as the genuine subject of this experiment. Would you toss one last conjecture?"

…

You let out a strangled air, unable to properly articulate your disbelief.

It's the traveler. Of course, it's her.

Dottore aspires to transform humans into gods, yet his attempts have thus far been in vain. Save for one young woman who sought refuge in both Mondstadt and Sumeru, all subjects have perished during testing. In your days as a harbinger, you've watched others toil over the vulneraries and prosthetics the Doctor would jam into them. Your visit to certain hospitals by the desert is your testimony to his apathy. He is driven by relentless curiosity, never pausing for the ethical implications of his research, but would spend hours on the feasibility of his experiments.

You were relieved when you heard he used an inorganic lifeform in his last experiment. But if that was a mere dud, then…

"Don't tell me— all this time, your real goal revolved around how the traveler could ascend into Godhood?" You gawked. "So whatever that puppet was, is nothing more than a self-fulfilling prophecy in failure? Your experiments in blasphemy will always find new ways to make me utterly sick."

You flinched as Dottore caressed your cheek. It wasn't the contact that shocked you.

It was the respect in his eyes.

"Hmm... About a year ago, you'd make conscious efforts to bite your tongue. I must remark that I am fascinated with the concerning spike of confidence your senile age brings."

"Things change." You mocked him. "You should try growing older. About a year ago, I wouldn't have this deal with you, too."

With that, the verbal contract was set into motion.

"We'll keep in touch."

He pulled away.

You scoffed. "If I believed in Celestia, I would've prayed you'd become a decent person."

"How unfortunate that you'll need a stronger God to achieve that ambition," Dottore laughed. "And materializing a stronger God is precisely part of my current objectives."

This heretic.

"I see now why you and Capitano are far too different to be colleagues."

You glared.

"Have your glory. You may receive everything— the ego in victory— the spoils of war. Celestia may even watch you steal the blessings of ascension. But you have no honor. You live with no happiness."

You grumbled while you walked away. The erratic sound of your cane reflected the rhythm of your anger and disgust. Before you left, you gave him one high note to end on.

"You dance with no music."

As soon as you were out of the vicinity, Dottore quickly returned to his near-incoherent scrawling.

"I'd rather be a fool who performs for no one," he grinned, his stomach tucking in from stifled laughter. "Than a blabbering grandmother scared of sugar pills."

"(Y/N)!!!"

Upon your supposedly quiet return to the inn, you were greeted by a pair of large hands squeezing your cheeks with trembling worry.

"I told you to call me Granny—"

"Where have you been?!" He tilted your head, inspecting for wounds like an incompetent father. His strength would usually cause grief, but you've grown used to this. It's a sensation that's hard to hate.

His hands are rough but not unkind.

"When I awoke, I realized you were not in your room." He spoke, evident that he was reeling himself from rambling. Been a long while since you saw his long and gorgeous hair this messy. "Had I not instructed you not to wander alone without one of our men at your side."

The inn's staff whispered among themselves while his men stiffly avoided gazing at you two. You cringe at everyone's bloodshot eyes. There's more room to pity the Natlan locals— they didn't ask to be involved. Capitano ordered a search party this late on your behalf when there was zero need for it. The attention was getting embarrassing.

You should've known that he'd notice your absence.

Damn it. You were barely gone for half an hour.

"Steel yourself, child. I don't need your men to coddle me." Months have passed, and he has yet to accept that you do not have a respectable position as a personal assistant. "I can wander around Natlan as safe as I please, kid. Are you seriously doubting my strength?"

That dirty tactic sobered him up.

"You know that isn't so." Capitano sighed, letting you go. "I know you're plenty capable, however..."

"Need I remind you that before the incident, I was originally the Harbinger tasked with retrieving the pyro gnosis?" You shook your head, feigning disappointment. "You should know by now that I've studied this place's typography and wildlife. No encounter could shock and harm me— even with these old bones."

"It's precisely why I worry over you," Capitano glared slightly. "With your curse, you could've been marked by foes out there."

"I didn't go anywhere far. I was just sightseeing."

"That explanation doesn't wash. I saw the glow of a portable waypoint when you came back."

… How observant. That's the first ranked harbinger for ya, you supposed.

"Okay, maybe I went home for a bit, so what?" You pouted. "It's a bit too warm in here for my liking."

The inn's staff immediately froze up.

"N-Not that it's bad, of course!" You laughed nervously. Ah, shit, let's not involve them. "It's my fault 'cause I didn't raise that concern with them. Old ladies such as myself are so stubborn. Hmm, hmm!"

Gradually, Capitano relaxed.

"I understand. At least, I'll choose to understand your fib for now."

"Not quite out of the cage yet, am I?" You joked.

"Not at all." Capitano exhaled softly, a hand barely covering his gentle smile. His voice made it painfully apparent that you're off the hook.

He's such a terrible liar.

Before you could comment on this, Capitano reached out his hand.

"Come with me." He wagged his fingers towards him, beckoning you to come closer. "Let's continue our conversation somewhere private."

Out of the 11 harbingers and those who had come and gone, you know Capitano the most.

"I didn't realize Natlan nights can be cold." You spoke thoughtlessly.

He stared at you blankly. "Cold enough to prevent you from running back home, clearly."

"Ah."

And likewise, he knows you best as well.

You digressed in an instant. "Why did you bring me here, Little Captain?"

You stood by a cliff, staring at the quiet night in the humble town. There's a noticeable increase of guards on patrol since the Fatui arrived in Natlan, but with Capitano as the lead, you saw no reason for their alarm. Obviously, Capitano didn't bring you here to make that observation. Judging from how his stare is on the ground and not the beautiful sight, public perception is pushed at the back of his mind.

"Your cane…" He whispered.

"What about it?"

"You forgot to wash the blood away."

Inspecting the cane without lifting it, you realize what he meant.

"Oh."

"Who was it?" His voice sounded a bit more stern.

Your eyebrows furrowed. "Who was what?"

There was a shift in the air.

"Who attacked you?"

…

You laughed uncontrollably.

"W-What?! Pfft— puh-lease! No one attacked me." You poked his helmet. He stared you down, unamused. "No-bo-dy."

Capitano has yet to let his anger go. He spoke steadily, but he wasn't fooling you. "I'll ask once more: who attacked you?"

"Don't tell me your memory is worse than this old lady's," you clicked your tongue. "I just told you, it's nobody."

Capitano shifted his foot down slightly. "Elena reported that you were assaulting a fatuus with your cane in an isolated dining area."

Curses. You thought you were alone. To be caught by Elena, of all people? Your senses must be dulling.

"Well, one of your men— I suppose— was disrespecting their elders."

"I ordered a headcount. None of my men have gone missing." Capitano crossed his arms. "Besides, they know better than aggravating my most prized assistant."

Should've known that lie won't fly.

"Okay, maybe it wasn't one of your men." Obviously it was Dottore's, but you bit your tongue. "But you should know I'm a polarizing figure in the Fatui. I heard someone say that getting rid of me is a noble act cause they'd be removing your right from employing an absolute loser."

"(Y/n), where did you get those ideas?"

Honestly? Straight out of your 'lovely' imagination. If not inspired by Pantalone's past remarks as well— just cruder.

It’s almost commendable how easy it is to assume everyone is out to get you. The work environment certainly helps. A strange grin or remark is sufficient to validate any doubts. Probably illogical for you to live life this way. You're aware enough that not every whisper is about you and that not every grin hides some hidden agenda, yet the uncertainties still seep in so effortlessly that it almost seems like breathing.

You've yet to find someone who will prove your inherent distrust wrong. That body you hurled at Dottore earlier was no exception.

"Whoever attacked me doesn't matter; I got rid of them."

"I know you did. I don't reserve any doubt whatsoever. That is not the issue at hand." Capitano shook his head, his last words hiding a slight growl. "What I am perturbed by is how you had hidden this from me."

Your eyes widened.

"I-I'm sorry, forgive me, Capitano." You fumbled. "It was genuinely not as big as you think it is. A traitor was in the mist, and I took care of it."

"You were targeted, (Y/n)," Capitano said, nearly whispering as he gently took your hands. No matter how callous he was or how much his skin resembled etched maps, they held yours with great care.

His eyelids drooped slightly, hiding unspoken grief. "You were attacked when I made an oath that I would protect you while you are under my care..."

Capitano's tone softened further, almost withdrawn from hurt.

"I should have been there..."

You've never been one to immediately process emotions in a snap. When you and Capitano share ideas, theories intersect like constellations on Teyvat nights. But that look in his eye? You can't read what he's thinking.

"Why do you fret over it, dearie? Death is but a doorbell away for me." You hummed with a wide smile. "I'll be claimed soon enough. Maybe tonight might even be the night. Oh, honey, it's no skin off the Tsaritsa's back if an old gal like me bites the dust."

…

You have a feeling you said the worst thing imaginable at that moment.

…

Capitano said nothing.

In fact, you'd wager that was on purpose.

There's a glint in his eye. A look that you couldn't place— a dangerous thought you can't hear. It ringed endlessly in his ears, and the slight tremor in his fingertips proved it. His blue eyes stared straight into your soul.

A revelation. An epiphany. A newfound raison d'etre that he refused to let anyone know— you specifically.

Something about him drastically changed.

But that look vanished in an instant.

Capitano's mouth curled upward.

The smile did not reach his eyes. 

"I prefer if it's kind sleep who takes you tonight," Capitano muttered. "Death is far too early for a woman like you."

"A woman like me?" You chuckled. "You meant grandmother, right? And what do you mean by that?"

"A woman like you deserves all the time in the world, not to be taken prematurely. Your spirit is far too bright to be dimmed so soon." He took off his cloak. "Because a woman like you is a woman loved by many."

Capitano wrapped his cloak around you before you realized it. As you looked down, you noticed how much larger his frame was than yours. The cloak reached the floor when you donned it. Though it was night, the cologne he put on reminded you of sun-drenched clothes and steel— but it's possible that this was just Capitano's natural scent.

"I should add cloaks as an interest for your late birthday present." You could practically hear the smile on his face as he said, "It suits you."

Something about the way he sounded was way off now.

The weariness from your conversations with Dottore seemingly washed away. You grabbed a fistful of the cloak and raised it. "I think every tailor in Teyvat would beg to differ."

Capitano chuckled. "Respectfully, they wouldn't know any better."

"And you do?" You raised an eyebrow, but that grin on your face is too difficult to wipe off. "I don't think you know me well, little Captain."

You continued.

"Anyone can learn to like me, but to love me…"

Is devastating.

You trailed off, eyes back on the quiet streets. You've always admired those who teased on the edge of retirement and eternal sleep, their bravery surpassing the young's. They act on reckless abandon, unburdened by the opinions of others. Alice saw this in you, and she knew— deep in her heart— that she'd be more than willing to help you embrace that freedom in whatever form that may take.

Since you became a "grandmother", seemingly everything and nothing has changed. You've pushed away those who pretended to care, only to find that no soul can stand to be with you. Maybe it was a glorious boon or just as the witch said— a desperate cry for help, nothing more. The experience so far taught you things you already knew you hated about yourself that you wondered if this were all for the sake of mastery. Have you destroyed yourself for nothing? Who knows. But you'll continue to take solace that maybe, just maybe, death may end the loneliness you've endured for so long.

But if you so badly chase for death…

"████████."

You looked at him.

"Can I ask for a favor?"

You're going to do it right.

Taglist: @macaronilovingracoon, @lucienbarkbark, @meimeimeirin, @notthefib987, @meowmeowakutagawa

[imfinereallyy]

I wonder if you look both ways (When you cross my mind) pt. 2

pt. 1 pt. 3

🐝･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

June 1996, Chicago

Steve doesn’t exactly know when Eddie Munson became one of his best friends, let alone when he fell in love with him.

He supposes both things occurred between the end of the world, and Eddie’s back walking out the door for the last time, unbeknownst to anyone. Though, that is five years of time, who’s to say when it really happened.

Dustin will argue the friend part. He likes to think it was he who brought them together (it certainly wasn’t; in fact, it put a real bump in the road for them). Dustin also thinks, which Steve is more inclined to think is true, that the two of them had become friends during Eddie’s slow recovery and Steve’s guilt complex, which made him feel responsible for him.

Which—ouch, Dustin—but years of therapy would prove him right.

Little shit.

Dustin doesn't know about the love part, though, and Steve doesn’t think much of the party knows except for one or two of the perceptive ones.

Looking at you, Lucas.

Robin likes to argue that Steve doesn’t know when he fell in love with Eddie because Eddie was different from everyone else.

Steve puts everything into love, moves fast, falls hard, and ultimately gets crushed by his own passion. Steve doesn’t know how to take things slow or wait around for the right person.

Until he did, with Eddie.

Steve managed to have a slow decent into the madness of loving a man like Eddie Munson. And he never did anything about it, although he didn't mind. Steve was okay with just being friends and loving from afar.

Until they weren't even that, and Eddie was gone.

Steve can't think about that now, instead he should probably worry about the man himself breaking into his apartment at 3 a.m.

"Get. Out." Robin hisses, breaking Steve from his thoughts.

Suddenly, Eddie stands. His hands thrust forward in a placating nature, and nervous energy radiates off of him. "Robin, please—"

"No, Munson. You don't get to disappear from our lives for five years, and then break into our apartment!" Robin whisper shouts, the metal bat waving around in her grip.

Steve still hasn't said anything, still unsure of any of it is really happening. But he can't help but warm at Robin's fierceness.

She will go down swinging for Steve, even against someone she cares about.

Fuck, he loved her.

"Give me one good reason not to bash your skull in with this thing, Munson. I dare you!" Robin took the metal bat and pushed it into Eddie's chest.

Steve gets a good look at him as he stumbles backward. He doesn't look much different—well that's a lie. He does look different; more tattoos, more piercings and Steve is pretty surprised to catch him wearing anything other than a band tee. It is just so all quintessentially Eddie. The jewelry is all silver, any tattoo he got after 1986 appears to be in black and red ink only. Even his tee is still black despite the lack of a band on the front.

"Birdie, I don't think you should have Steve's bat in your hands, you're a bit dangerous." Eddie tries to grab the bat from her hands but Robin yanks it back.

"Oh, fuck you, Munson! You don't get to call me Birdie, and this is my bat. Steve's is wooden and full of nails and underneath his bed. You should know that, or has the last five years really rotted your brain?" Robin is now waving the bat around with gusto, nearly missing Steve's head at one point.

Trying to shake himself from his frozen state, Steve decides it is probably in everyone's best interest if he steps in.

"Robs." Steve speaks gently, hand on the bat as he slowly lowers it down. Her shoulders drop, the fight draining out of her in seconds. "It's okay."

It's not okay. Steve doesn't understand what's happening right now. But Steve is okay as long as he has Robin, and Robin has him. Steve hopes she understands that's what he meant.

Robin nods her head, and shuffles closer to him.

Steve takes a shaky breath, "What are you doing here, Munson?"

Eddie cringes at the use of his last name but doesn't comment. "Listen, I know it's weird me just stopping by suddenly—"

Robin snorts, "I wouldn't exactly call breaking in 'stopping by'."

Eddie shakes his head, ignoring her. Stray curls start to fall loose from their bun. "I just want to talk, for you guys to hear me out."

Steve rubs a hand down his face, he is getting too old for this stuff. Being blindsided, being surprised—being thrown sideways and upside down. Sure, twenty-nine isn't exactly old, but Steve has lived practically six different lifetimes by now. There is so much damage to him—physically and emotionally. He is supposed to be past nonsense like this.

Robin takes his silence as permission to snip at Eddie, "No. Go away, Eddie. You don't get to do that. Get out."

Eddie moves a step forward, he is now illuminated completely by the side table's light. He looks tired—good but tired. It's not the kind of tired you see of someone in distress, not the ache that comes along in the tunnel that has no light in the end. No, Eddie looks tired in the way that comes with healing. Like working hard exhaustion. As if coming home from a long but good day at work, and the night grows weary.

Eddie opens his mouth to argue, but Steve cuts him off. "It's fine, Robbie. It's late; let him crash on the couch."

Eddie's shoulders sag in relief, "Thanks, Stevie, we can talk—"

"No." Steve chokes out, moving his hand towards his throat so he can remember to breathe. "You don't get to call me that. And we're not talking about anything. You'll sleep here, but that's it. I might not want you here, but it doesn't mean I'm going to let you wander the streets at night."

"Steve, please—" Eddie reaches out his hands to touch Steve. It is most likely going to be a gentle touch, but Steve can't help the way he violently flinches.

Eddie looks taken aback, eyes wide and full of sadness. He pulls his hands back.

"No, Eddie." Steve grabs Robin's hand and starts to pull her to bed. She doesn't protest and instead leans into his touch. Steve turns over his shoulder to look at Eddie again. "You'll stay the night. It's not an option. But my morning? I want you gone. I don't want you to be the first thing I see after sunrise."

Steve turns quickly back around, ignoring the pained grunt from behind him.

Bypassing Robin's bedroom, Steve pulls them both into his. Robin doesn't question it and instead makes herself comfortable in his forest green blankets.

Steve quickly follows after, snuggling into the bed beside her. People have thought them weird over the years—always in each other's spaces and knowing every little thing about each other. Partners, friends, family—all of them had something to say about it, never even bothering to understand.

Well, except Eddie. Eddie appreciated it, accepted it. Adored it at times.

"Are you really okay with this, Dingus?" Robin whispers softly between them.

"No." Steve never lies to Robin; she'll know. "Not at all, but I'm not going to let him wander the streets, no matter what I loved him at some point. I don't let the people I loved, get hurt."

Robin squints in pity, "Loved?"

"Not now, Bobbie," Steve whispers.

Robin nods, "Besides, I'm pretty sure 'Ed Sloane' can afford a fucking hotel room."

Steve lets out a loud snort, it echoes throughout the room. "God, don't remind me. What a stupid fucking name."

The two of them dissolve into giggles, bumping their heads together. Under the covers, they clasp their hands together tight. "I just don't want you to derail your life, for someone who walked so easily out of it. I know you have that important lunch with Drew tomorrow."

Steve takes a breathe through his nose, "Yea, I do. But it'll be fine. He'll be gone before I'm even up. You know Eds, he's a runner. Wouldn't stop trying to prove it, in fact."

Robin's face is scrunched in pain, and her eyes pool with pity. It's as if she knows something Steve doesn't or sees something he chooses to ignore. She doesn't comment on it, though. Instead, she raises an eyebrow, "Eds?"

It isn't snippy or accusing. Her voice is soft against his cheek. Steve doesn't have the mental capacity to argue though. "G'night, Birdie."

"Goodnight, Stevie." She whispers.

Steve closes his eyes, knowing it will all feel like a dream tomorrow.

Steve is familiar with having dreams with Eddie in them.

🐝･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

more to come i promise, especially after your (loving demands). especially my mutuals who yelled at me in the tags and my dm's (it made my day).Part 3 is currently being typed up. Also might fuck around and make this a full-blown ao3 one shot; who knows.

tag list!:

@stevesbipanic @withacapitalp @emryyyyy09 @brainfugk @blueberrylemontea-fanfic

@slv-333 @thetinymm @connected-dots-st-reblogger @helpimstuckposting @dreamercec

@goodolefashionedloverboi @stripey82 @little2nerdy @anne-bennett-cosplayer @resident-gay-bitch

@ghostquer @sourw0lfs @devondespresso

(please let me know if you don't want a tag, I had to guess by the comments, and sorry if you’re getting a random tag after posting, I had to fix the tag list cause tumblr is weird)

[pumpkinbxtch]

Hi, I just saw that you said that Jason is a little possessive, so I was wondering can you do a request with Jason and reader in that scenario, where he is a little jealous and possessive boyfriend?

he wrote 'mine' on my upper thigh

— jason grace x fem!reader

warnings: jealousy, language, jealous jason

a/n: I live for this face of everyone, it makes me very irresistible, lol.

— Want to die? — Jason asked, his expression completely changed. As if his pale skin wasn't enough, the way his face turned into a deadly calmness gave them enough reason to doubt every decision they had made in the last two miserable years of their lives. When they felt a cold breeze run down their spine, confirmed they had definitely messed with the wrong guy. What Jason didn't know was that normal mortals didn't find it hard to play that game because, well, those threats were never as real as he was used to.

— It's just a woman, no big deal, buddy — maybe was the brown-haired guy said it in a disdainful tone, or maybe was the last word that made Jason's stomach churn, but he remembered he was still in public, so he tried not to incinerate them with a snap or at least not to keep gritting his teeth the way he was because he swore he was about to shatter them.

— Just a woman — he repeated the words, dragging each one with hatred and disgust. The guy with the red hair looked more nervous than his other friend, so he tried to make peace, but that was something Jason had already left behind as an alternative to that argument. He wouldn't forgive any disrespect to you, because you were his best friend, his girlfriend, the person he would die for without a second thought, and if they wanted to see him that way, then you weren't just a woman, you were his woman.

He glanced to make sure you weren't anywhere near the checkout and took a few steps toward the pair. The redhead was close to wetting his pants, but his friend still had that stubborn look, pretending to downplay the significant difference in height and muscle mass between them.

For a moment, Jason struggled with his morality, because it was stupid to fight with his clearly abnormal strength for something that was easy to ignore because they would never be able to lay a finger on you while he was alive. However, he couldn't help but notice the way their eyes had been roaming over your body or the way they looked at you while you smiled at him. It made his blood boil and awakened the most primitive part of his being causing his logical side to drown and disappear, almost like those days when he was with the wolves. Besides, if he thought about it, it wasn't just them, it was every damn man and woman who dared to smile at you in a way that suggested more than just kindness, especially if they were the ones making you laugh. That's when he always felt on the edge of losing control.

Jason could feel shame somewhere in his conscience for his behavior, but this was also too real to hide for a little longer. That moment alone with those idiots had only given him the golden opportunity to unleash those piled-up frustrations.

— Yeah, just a woman — it was stupid, the conversation didn't go beyond that, but the retort was enough for the air to smell metallic and their hair to stand on end warning of the electricity beginning to fill their surroundings. How bad would it be if two mortals were struck by lightning for earning the title of the biggest idiots of the month? The answer was obvious to Jason: very bad, useless, in fact. So he took a deep breath and watched their hair return to normal.

— She's mine — he said, starting to turn around to go help you, but he stopped when he heard the other mocking him.

— Who says? —Jason was fed up with the irreverence and turned back to them, his fingertips sparking again.

— Beat it —he said as he sent a small electric shock to both of them. Mild enough not to cause harm but enough to make them scream. His eyes literally sparkled, making them doubt what they were seeing, scaring them, and confirming that the Mist hadn't helped when he saw them run. He wondered if he had gone too far, if he had let himself be carried away too much by that part of him that didn't make him proud but that he knew was part of him. In the end, he decided he didn't care, remembering that someone had once told him he had to stop holding back. So, with that philosophy in mind, he decided to go look for you.

The picnic tables weren't as crowded as you expected, in fact, there was hardly anyone around you, and you wondered if it was because for a moment there was a hint of rain or because of the heavy aura that Jason had been carrying since you left the grocery store, and now that you thought about it, you considered that both reasons were possibly related.

— Jason Grace — you called him sweetly as you opened the picnic basket, and he immediately softened his frown and looked in your direction. He was struck by the gentle way the breeze swayed your hair, it was an almost imperceptible movement but it highlighted how beautiful you were. He knew why you were calling him by his full name, his behavior couldn't be more obvious, but those words echoed in his mind.

»Who says?«

He slid along the bench to get closer to you as he watched you set things on the table. He wrapped his hand around your waist, and although you smiled in that way that was like oxygen to him, it wasn't enough for him. So, taking you by the hips, he forced you to stand up.

— C'mon, let's eat, baby — you said giggling, and he sat you on that old wooden table while he returned to the bench.

He looked up at you with his blue eyes, and seeing you from that perspective that made you look majestic. he rejected the idea of letting anyone else be the person who hugged you or who was close enough to smell your sweet scent. The idea of someone else other than him being able to kiss your lips, which were so perfect and soft, drove him crazy, he couldn't handle it.

»Who says?«

With that thought, he started searching in your bag that was lying next to you, you never stopped him, but you wondered about that change in attitude because he seemed a little rougher and severe, his eyes were even a little darker, but you couldn't deny that he looked handsome, that you even liked it.

When Jason found what he wanted, he stood up supporting only his right knee on the bench as support and he enjoyed the way that velvet skirt rose, leaving your thighs in his view. Before leaning towards them, he searched your eyes for any kind of disapproval because for him, the most important thing was how you felt, and not finding anything like that, gave him enough confidence to continue.

He felt your muscles tense and tried to undo it by caressing your leg, but failing that, his lips kissed a bit above your knee, which made you swallow saliva, what the hell was he trying to do and why now? Jason was never too public, any major display of affection was always in a more intimate place. When he straightened up, in his hand you finally saw what he had taken from your bag: your eyeliner.

Dazed, you reached out to try to take it, but he quickly caught his hand with yours on the table and before you could do the same with the other, he placed the open eyeliner between his lips and trapped your other hand in the same way.

He raised his gaze above his glasses and slowly shook his head, sending a silent warning before leaning towards you again, exactly on your upper thigh. You felt the moisture of the pen on your skin and with a given precision, you started to see that he was writing, but it wasn't until he finished that you could barely read it. The air left your lungs when you deciphered it and you didn't understand how after doing that, he had sat back down with the same serene smile as always, his hands spreading the tablecloth for you to eat while he hummed a familiar song.

Had you missed something? It was definitely something new in him to behave openly in that way, but you didn't dislike it. After all, what it said there wasn't a lie.

— Do you have any objections? — His demanding question didn't match the sweet tone in which he had said it, and you got off the table to put both hands on his shoulders.

— No, sir — you confirmed with the same tone and kissed the line of his jaw before taking a seat beside him.

Jason continued to arrange things, he seemed peculiarly focused, so you took the opportunity to discreetly look down once more, but your skirt had covered the word. Slowly with your hand, you lifted the fabric until it was visible again:

"Mine"

You felt a warmth spread through your body and crossed your legs on purpose to make it visible. That action drew a smile on your boyfriend's face, and not long after, he kissed you. No, it wasn't a lie, but as you was his, he was yours.

[bones4thecats]

Hello, you can, Tfa Starscream x Conjux femme reader, where Starscream's clones are in love with the reader 💙❤️

➸ Clones v. Starscream; Trans. Animated

Character: Starscream and his Clones (Transformers Animated) A/N: This was actually one of my favorite things I've written for the Transformers Franchise. I hope you enjoy it as well, 💙❤️Anon! Disclaimer(s): Nothing, except maybe poly relationships? I'm not sure, didn't get that deep into it.

Star - 💫 / Slip - 💐 / Ram - 🪶 / Sky - 😱 / Thunder - 🌩️ / Sun - 🌦️

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Starscream Clones v. Starscream ══════════════╝

💫 Starscream landed, transforming back into his bi-pedal mode. He was not very amused. Those Primus-forsaken Autobots managed to stop him from gaining another object for his plans! How annoying!

💫 As he walked around the run-down ship that was once the Nemesis, Starscream could hear the voice of his conjunx coming from a couple hallways down. But his conjunx's voice wasn't the only one he heard, he also heard his clones' voices

💫 Speeding up his pace to almost a full-out sprint, the seeker stopped in front of a doorway. There you stood, speaking to Slipstream while Skywarp held onto you from behind. He was acting as if you were his personal plush

💫 Starscream's anger was now soaring. How dare these knockoffs of him start getting along with his conjunx! You were his, not theirs! He's been with you for hundreds of thousands of years, they had only been with you for a couple Earthly months at most!

💫 Hearing a scoff from the entry-way, you turned and saw your conjunx, Starscream, standing there. He was leaning against the doorway with a sour expression on his face. You chuckled and motioned for Skywarp to let you go, which he did

💫 You walked up to Starscream, wrapped your arms around his midsection, and hugged him. Your grasp was better than almost any Cybertronians, especially a femmes. Starscream smiled smugly and hugged you back, glaring at the Clones behind you, you being completely oblivious to the action

"How was your mission on Earth?" You asked.

"I bet he failed." Slipstream voiced.

"Starscream? Fail? That's nonsense." Ramjet said, making Starscream narrow his optics and bawl his servos into fists.

"I recommend you shut your intakes, Clones."

"Exactly. Starscream is one of the best Decepticons ever created. Even better than that bucket-head Megatron." Sunstorm praised.

"Thank you, Sunstorm." Starscream said.

💫 You looked as Slipstream rolled her optics and walked off, her metal hips swaying as she did so. While many mechs would watch, you preferred the sight of the original Starscream's hips moving as he walked around

"Oh please. I am obviously the superior Starscream. You're all mere pieces of scrap compared to my genius." Thundercracker boasted.

"Exactly. And you totally didn't fail your last mission against the Autobot Repair Team."

"Why you-"

"Enough, you two. I think you guys need some time to recharge. Go to your chambers and relax," you added, "and don't bother trying to flatter me out of it. Sunstorm."

💫 Sunstorm shrugged and walked off, the others following suite. You then looked at Starscream and chuckled, hugging him once more as he picked you up and walked to look out of one of the many huge windows that surrounded the now-destroyed war ship that you lived on for many years

"You know, sometimes I think that you like those Clones more than me." Starscream teased, a smirk ever so present on his face.

"More than my original sparkmate? Not possible."

💫 Starscream laughed lightly as you leaned forward and leaned your forehead against his. You could feel the bit of the Allspark in his helm pulsing with his own spark as you gave him affection. While many called him sparkless and a monster, you knew the real Starscream. And he could feel love. And right now was extreme proof of that claim

[xoxoladyaz]

AU-gust, Day 6: Domestic

Eddie Munson was a rockstar. Eddie Munson was a renegade. Eddie Munson was a bad boy, living life on the edge, destined for wild nights on the open road, for success and fame and riches. Eddie Munson was – 

“ – ridiculous.”

“Excuse me?” Eddie whirled around from psyching himself up in the mirror to glare at Jeff. Jeff, who had the utter nerve to roll his eyes at him.

“You’re being ridiculous, man,” Jeff repeated.

“He’s not being ridiculous, he’s being a baby,” Gareth cut in with a snort.

Eddie gaped at his two best friends, his musketeers, his brothers in arms. “What – I – how dare you! I am not being a baby, I’m Eddie fucking Munson, I’m a high-rolling freak on the streets and in the sheets - ”

“Dude, gross.”

“ – who’s ready to rock across America!” He finished emphatically.

Jeff just quirked his eyebrow at him. “You’re literally pouting right now.”

“No, I’m not!”

Jeff and Gareth shared a look before sighing in tandem. “You’ve gone to bed before eleven every night the last few weeks. The rest of us aren’t even out of the venue by the time you’re asleep,” Gareth started.

“Not to mention the fact that you can’t do anything in the morning until you’ve called and talked to Steve,” Jeff continued.

“And if you can’t talk to Steve during his lunch break then you’re grumpy for the rest of the day.”

“You keep complaining about the fact that none of his shirts smell like him anymore - ”

“ – seriously, you threw a temper tantrum until Stu stopped and bought a bottle of his shitty cologne for you to spray on your pillow - ”

“ – and you keep making super long and sappy speeches about missing your ‘sweetheart’ every single performance before we play ‘Faithfully’ - ”

“ – it’s embarrassing dude, we’re a metal band!”

“ – and to top it all off, you literally can’t go more than three minutes without talking about Steve or what Steve would think of what we’re driving by and God forbid you make any sort of decision without talking to Steve first.”

Eddie stood frozen, paralyzed by the heat rushing towards his face. “I – I do not!”

Phil walked in from the back of the bus and chuckled. “Dude, you literally called him to ask if you should order ketchup or mustard with your burger last night.”

“I - ” Eddie sputtered before crossing his arms. “I – he was having burgers too and I wanted us to match!”

“Awww,” Gareth cooed mockingly, fluttering his eyes back at Eddie. “That’s so sweet.”

“Ignore him,” Jeff said, shoving Gareth off of his chair. “For the record, it is really sweet, man. So why are you trying to hide it with all this ‘bad boy of rock and roll stuff?’”

“What do you mean ‘hide it?’ I’ve always been a bad boy.”

Silence. (If they weren’t on a moving bus and had their windows open, it would have been the perfect moment for a symphony of crickets to kick in.)

Eddie squeezed his arms against his chest and pouted (and yes, he knew he was pouting this time, thank you very much.) “Rude.”

Jeff rose with a sigh and crossed the tour bus. When he reached Eddie he threw his arm around him in a half-hug. “Eds, my man, I love you, but you’ve only ever been scary looking.”

“Seriously, you’re the sappiest guy I know,” Gareth added unhelpfully.

“And before you say that’s not metal,” Jeff kept going (and yeah, he knew Eddie pretty well to head off that train of thought), “that’s what sets us apart from the rest of the bands on the scene.”

“What does?”

“You being a super loving guy, man,” Phil nodded with a dazed look in his eyes. “Truthfully, I think love is the most metal thing of all. It can change the world.”

“Wow,” Gareth snorted after a few moments, “have you gotten up close and personal with Mary Jane already today?”

“Well, yeah, but - ”

“What Phil is trying to say is that you’re made of love, dude. And it’d be a real shame if you lost track of that, especially because that’s what we love about you, and that’s what Steve loves about you,” Jeff finished. He squeezed Eddie’s shoulder comfortingly before letting go.

“You’re right,” Eddie rubbed his hands against his arms. “I know you’re right, it’s just – this was supposed to be what I wanted, you know? Touring and fame and the open road. But - ”

Jeff prodded him gently. “But?”

“But I miss Steve,” Eddie sighed. “I miss seeing him come home every day. I miss waking up next to him every morning and falling asleep next to him every night. I miss his delicious pasta dinners and his burned pancakes because he always burns them and I just – I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this. I just miss him. But I don’t want to give up what we have either.”

The boys were silent for a moment, looking amongst each other and back at Eddie, who was wilting in on himself.

“Well,” Phil started, “we don’t have to tour like this. We could just do weekends maybe?”

“Or summers,” Jeff hummed thoughtfully. “That way Steve can come with us.”

“And Will!” Gareth perked up, grinning. “He doesn’t take classes in the summers, he’d be able to come with us then.”

“And that way by the time we’re done touring, Steve will be headed back to work and you can be home with him,” Jeff nodded, like it was decided. “We can definitely make that work.”

Eddie’s voice was small and quiet when he spoke. “You’d really do that for me?”

“I mean, it wouldn’t be just ‘for you,’ it would be good for all of us, but yeah, man. We just want you to be happy. That’s way more important than any tour.”

Eddie nodded once, twice, and then he was throwing his arms around Jeff and tackling him to the floor. “Thank you thank you thank you, you guys are the best, Steve’s gonna be so excited I gotta go tell him RIGHT NOW - ” and then Eddie was off, whooping happily into the back of the tour bus.

Jeff sat up from his spot now on the floor and exchanged looks with Gareth and Phil. “You’re good with that, yeah?”

“Dude, if Eddie wasn’t going to say anything, I was,” Gareth shook his head. “Eddie’s way less of a slob when Steve’s around.”

“And he’s a great cook! I’m getting tired of all this Taco Bell.”

“Speak for yourself, Phil!” Gareth growled, affronted, and the three remaining Corroded Coffin members began arguing about the nutritional benefits of Taco Bell.

(When they finally went on tour again the following summer it was a much better experience for everyone involved. Eddie was almost constantly in a good mood, Gareth didn’t feel the need to strangle Eddie for hogging the phone, Phil ate his weight in homemade – or hotel-made – pasta, and Jeff? Jeff got to enjoy himself without any worries about his best friend losing his way, because anytime Eddie got a little stressed or in his head, all it took was one look at Steve and he was okay, and that was more than worth the crowded tour bus.)

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Loved You Then, Love You Now (Jason Todd)

Summary: he's always loved you.

Warnings: fluff

WC: 660ish

Read on AO3!

--

The streets of Gotham were quieter than usual. You and Jason strolled side by side, hands stuffed into your jacket pockets to fend off the evening chill. It had been years since you two were kids, running around the old neighborhood, getting into trouble, and chasing after your dreams. But even now, nothing had really changed between you—well, almost nothing.

"You remember when we used to come here?" you asked, looking up at the park where you and Jason had spent countless afternoons, swinging from the rusted playground equipment and daring each other to climb trees.

Jason smirked, glancing over at the worn metal slide. "Yeah, I used to push you off that slide all the time."

You bumped your shoulder against his playfully. "You were such a brat."

Jason chuckled, the sound deep but soft. "Still am, depending on who you ask."

The two of you walked in silence for a bit, memories floating in the air between you. It was nice, just being with him like this. No Red Hood, no danger—just Jason, the boy you’d grown up with, your best friend.

But lately, things felt... different. You’d catch him looking at you longer than usual, and sometimes, his hand would brush yours like he was about to hold it but thought better of it. The tension between you both had grown unspoken, something unsaid lingering in the air.

Finally, you decided to break the quiet. "Jay," you began, your voice soft, "I've been thinking."

"Uh oh," Jason teased, but there was a seriousness in his eyes as he looked at you. "What's on your mind?"

You stopped walking and turned to face him fully, the weight of the words you were about to say pressing down on you. "Do you ever think about... what we could have been?"

Jason’s expression shifted, a mix of surprise and something unreadable flashing in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," you hesitated, biting your lip, "we’ve been through everything together—school, growing up, even losing you for a bit—" You swallowed the lump in your throat. "I’ve always felt like there’s something more between us, and maybe we’ve just been too scared to admit it."

Jason looked away for a moment, his jaw clenching like he was fighting something back. Then, he turned his piercing blue gaze back to you, his voice lower and gentler than you'd ever heard. "I’ve loved you since we were kids."

Your heart skipped a beat. "What?"

Jason took a step closer, his hand reaching up to gently cup your cheek. "I’ve loved you since we were kids," he repeated, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. "I just never thought I deserved you. Not with everything that’s happened. But I can’t hide it anymore."

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them back, too overwhelmed by the confession to speak. He loved you. He always had.

You let out a soft laugh, almost disbelieving. "Why didn’t you say anything sooner?"

Jason smiled, that crooked, charming grin that never failed to make your heart flutter. "I was waiting for the right moment. But I guess there's no ‘right moment’ in Gotham, huh?"

You shook your head, grinning through the tears threatening to spill. "No, there isn’t."

And then, before either of you could say anything else, Jason leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was sweet, soft, and so full of the love that had been building for years. It felt like coming home.

When you finally pulled away, Jason rested his forehead against yours, a rare, genuine smile on his face. "Always thought I’d have to fight some villain for you," he joked softly. "Turns out, the real battle was just telling you how I feel."

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close. "Well, I’m glad you finally won, Jay."

Jason held you tighter, whispering into your ear, "I’m never letting you go."

-

tags!

EVERYTHING PERM: @nekoannie-chan @kjs-s @notyourtypicalrose @mistressofallthingsgeeky

DCEU PERM TAGS: @other-fandom-reblogs

[conchcronch]

Kinktober 2024: Day 10

WC: 4665

Summary: Buggy is oblivious and may have missed your best performance because he was talking to another woman. And you intend to make him beg for your forgiveness.

The air was hot, almost stifling but you were in the zone. It had felt like years since you had performed in front of anyone other than your crew but tonight you finally had an audience, a real audience. Not a bunch of people shackled to their seats, clapping under the gauze of being let go, these were real paying people. You weren’t entirely sure how your captain had swung it, and you sure as shit weren’t going to ask him, you wanted to just enjoy this moment while it lasted in case it didn’t happen again.

The gasp from the crowd when you skillfully toyed with them sent a buzz through your body, you were dropping the sword before quickly catching the hilt as it slipped down your throat little by little until the cool metal guards rested against the corners of your open mouth. You pulled it out a bit before dropping it back in quickly, your eyes searching the crowd to find the person who you knew would be enjoying the performance more then anyone else.

He wasn’t in the wings, his usual spot when you preformed, never wanting to miss any part of your set while also wanting to be there in case on the extremely off chance something went wrong. You took a bow, sword still nestled in your esophagus the crowd roaring around you as you scanned the seats. Eyes finally finding the orange jacket and blue hair cascading from his hat.

But his eyes weren’t on you. Instead he was leaning over the wall of the ring, talking, laughing with someone. It wasn’t until you noticed her hand finding his that was resting on the barrier that your body began to buzz with a different feeling. You watched as her hand slid up his arm before grabbing the front of his vest and pulling him closer. You were seeing red at this point, and you were going to make sure he knew.

You theatrically pulled the sword from your mouth, licking the tip of it just how you knew he liked, hoping he saw but knowing the likelihood of that was low, before leaving the stage. You stormed past your crewmates who were all trying to congratulate you, telling you it was the best you’d ever preformed, and you knew they were right but in this moment you couldn’t have cared less.

When you closed your dressing room door you thought you might break, almost anticipating it. But you didn’t, the tears you expected to come never fell and instead where you thought you’d feel sadness, you instead felt anger. Jealousy. How dare he let her touch him, he even laughed, smiled at her. Were you nothing to him, just another act for his circus?

You pulled the zipper of your dress, a tight brightly coloured number with more ruffles then anyone could ever want. The zipper caught a few times, an issue you were very aware of but only served to piss you off more. You knew you’d get lectured when Buggy sees the hole you managed to rip when you pulled it down over your hips with the zipper jammed only half way down its track, but in this moment you didn’t care.

You heard the sound of applause across the tent and knew they were wrapping up the preformance. And even more so, you knew you were expected to be up there at the end, but no part of you wanted to get back into that costume and be shown off by him. You knew he’d come find you, likely with the intention to barrat you, little does he know you’ll be the one to barrat him.

You sat calmly awaiting the knock. You took off your stage makeup, threw on a loose fitting white dress that fell to your mid thigh with simple lace lining its hem and along the thin straps that sat on your shoulders.

You heard the click of his boots on the wood first. Giving you a few seconds to prepare before the banging met your door. You forced yourself to wait, let him keep going once, twice, even three more rounds of banging. He eventually called your name, a hint of worry apparent before you pulled the door open.

He was still in his full look, coat and hat to match. There was a flash of relief that was quickly covered by irritation. “Where the fuck were you?” You somehow managed to maintain a blank, unbothered expression, not moving out of the doorway to let him in. Making it very clear, to even the densest of clowns that you were unpleased.

“I was in here.”

“No shit” You remained in his way, and it was clear he was confused. You two had been in the same routine for years, after a performance you would go to his room or he yours and discuss everything. What worked, what didn’t, it was something you had looked forward to, it had become sacred. Despite having entered into a relationship with the captain, you were never exempt from critiques, you didn’t want to be, so you weren’t new to being on the receiving end of his anger. “Why were you here?” His eyebrow twitched in irritation, his jaw tightening. You were beginning to think he knew what he had done, but didn’t know if you knew or not.

“I wasn’t feeling up for being shown off by you.” You shrugged your shoulders.

“What are you even talking about? That’s your job, you’re mine to show off.” He was getting a bit frantic, his voice raising but you didn’t back down.

“Oh yeah, is that right?”

“You’ve been around long enough toots, you know full well that’s right!” You nodded, your lips pursed.

“How about you hire, oh I don’t know,” You pretended to think, leaning on the door frame. “Maybe that blonde chick in the front row. She looked like she’d take your directions quite well.” As much as you hated feeling this way, jealousy churning in your stomach until you felt like you might throw up, you did enjoy the look of realization when he managed to finally piece things together a fraction of a second before you slammed the door in his face.

“B-baby it’s not like that.” You pressed your back against the door, not that you expected him to try to open it against your will, you knew he could easily overpower you if he really wanted to, but something about the whine in his voice intrigued you.

“Of all the performances you had to flirt through, you had to make it mine!”

“I wasn- I would never!”

“I wouldn’t have even noticed if you had done it any other time, but no you had to do it in the middle of probably my best performance yet!”

“It was easily the best you’ve ever done!” He tried,

”I don’t need to hear that from you, I know it was!”

“P-please baby, just let me explain.” You waited for a few minutes, wanting him to sweat a little bit before you pulled the door open.

“Beg.” You watched his face go from oh fuck to oh…fuck.

“Can I at least come inside before I do?” You raised an eyebrow at him, watching as he rubbed at the back of his neck, a gesture you knew he did when he was conflicted about something. You stepped aside, giving him enough room to slip past you and into the room, closing the door behind him. “I wasn’t flirting.” You walked past him to sit on the stool of your vanity, turning so you were facing where he stood.

“You already said that.” You crossed your arms over your chest, eyes scanning over him.

“I wasn’t.”

“You’re beginning to sound like a broken record.”

“She was asking me something.” You nodded at him, trying to wordlessly encourage him to keep talking but he paused.

”Are you going to tell me, or expect me to trust you?”

“She wanted to know if I was letting anyone join my crew.”

“And the touching?”

“Sheesh, you really see everything up there.”

“Only you, you’re all I look at when I’m on stage.” You knew how words like that would affect him, confirmed by the way he opened his mouth to say something but closed it before the words came out. Taking a few seconds before deciding to speak again.

“She was trying to convince me to let her join.”

“How.” Despite it being a question, it sure didn’t sound like one.

“She said she would do anything to join.”

“Anything.” You repeated.

“I told her no.” You remained silent, the urge to go find her only beginning to pop up in your head. “She kept pushing, but I tried to turn my attention to you…But you were walking off stage.”

“So you missed the whole thing?” He let out a heavy sigh.

”Not all of it.”

A silence fell heavily between you two, neither sure who was going to speak first but it was you who finally severed it. “You’re going to make up for missing my performance.”

“I’ll do anything.” He stepped closer to where you sat, and when he finally got within your reach you grabbed the front of his shirt, just as the woman had and tugged him closer. You wanted to kiss him, god he had done his makeup perfectly, but as nice as it looked on his seemingly perfect skin you knew it would look much better smeared between your thighs. Moving your hand from his shirt to his shoulder you shoved him down to his knees, his eyes glued to you with an almost pleading expression. You uncrossed your legs but when he tried to lean forward you caught his forehead, stopping his advance.

With gentle hands you grabbed his hat, pulling it off of him carefully, knowing how easy it was to snag his hair. You turned to set his prized possession on your vanity, turning your attention back to him, his hair cascading over his shoulder in a such a delicate manner. You knew he wanted to be between your thighs, it was so clear. Which was why teasing him like this was so enjoyable. You carded your fingers through his long mane, gently working any knots you found loose before pulling it back into a tight ponytail, using the hair tie that lived around your wrist solely to be used by him to pull it back.

When content with the near perfectly ponytail you pulled it back hard, a gasp slipped from his painted lips. “Now,” You saw him swallow hard, his lips pulling apart enough that he could lick his lower lips “Make it up to me.” When he made no movement to nod, you did it for him. “If you do a good job, I may be inclined to return the sentiment.”

You didn’t need to glance down at his lap, you knew he was hard the moment you pushed him to his knees. You spread your legs far enough apart that his face could fit between them, the sight of your black panties electing a moan from him but your grip on his hair remained firm. You tried to tug against your grip but got nowhere, his eyes finally tearing away from your covered core to look up at you. “I told you to beg.” His mouth made a silent O before his hand reached out to run along your shin as he tried to get his thoughts organized as best as he could.

“Please my star”

“Please what?” His hand ran up your leg to your knee, making sure not to linger on your more ticklish part before running back down to your ankle.

“Please forgive me”

“For?” You cocked an eyebrow at him, watching as his second hand gripped your other leg as he pulled against your hold on his hair.

“Fuck, I-I shouldn’t have let her touch me.”

“And”

“I shouldn’t have l-laughed with her”

“Wrong”

“W-what do you mean wrong?” His eyes were scanning you, as though he thought the right answer was written on you somewhere. You pulled his hair, forcing his body further away from you.

“I mean, you’re wrong.” You spoke slowly, enunciating each syllable.

“What else did I do?” You forced yourself to inhale a long slow breath, calming your frayed nerves.

“You missed my performance.” You felt your eyebrow twitch, a feature that only happened when you were at your limit.

“S-shit yeah right” you pulled his hair back further, his hands coming away from your body so he could branch himself on his ankles behind him, his back arching beautifully.

“You have one last chance, if you mess it up you’re out.” He nodded repeatedly, his hands returning to your calves and his lips immediately pressing kisses to your knee.

“My precious star, my spotlight, please” each word was punctuated by a progressively sloppier kiss trailing down from your knee to your shin, eventually he raised your leg so he could trail the kisses down to your foot. Despite your extreme lack of a foot fetish, the way his eyes remained glued to your’s made it difficult for you to maintain your hardened expression. “Please my love, find it in your heart, your beautiful, talented heart to forgive me.” He brought your foot back down after pressing one final kiss to your arch. “If you can manage to forgive a lowly pirate captain like myself, I promise I will never let you down again.”

Never in a million years did you think Buggy would ever refer to himself as anything other than amazing, so hearing him refer to himself as ‘lowly’ makes your gut twist with guilt. “Bugs” the bite in your voice was gone, leaving behind a tone that shook a little as you let his hair go and reached forward to draw his face to yours.

He pushed himself to his feet quickly, allowing you to guide his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. “You know you’re not a lowly pirate captain, right?” In your hurt and anger you had forgotten just how self conscious you knew he was. His gaze averted from yours, looking down at your lips instead of your eyes.

“Y-yeah, I know.” His tone was anything but convincing. “I just, I know I fucked up. As soon as she grabbed my vest I realized, I’m just a bit…” his lips tightened together as he searched for the words “I’m not used to people flirting with me, s-so I don’t always clue in.”

“Bugs,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to his nose. “People flirt with you all the time, you ooze charisma, you just never clue in.” You couldn’t help the huff of a laugh when his eyes returned to your’s, a mix between shock and disbelief written across his face.

“You’re fucking with me.” You shook your head, gently pushing him back down to his knees.

“It’s amazing how oblivious you can be.” You opened your legs more, reminding him of the reason he was here in the first place. “But enough about you, I think you’ve forgotten why you came in here.” He scooched forward, his hands running along your inner thighs pushing them open even wider. “Gloves off” he paused, his eyes flicking up to you before he sat back on his haunches making sure you had a good view as he grabbed the middle finger of his glove between his front teeth.

The gloves were a part of him, it took years of sailing with him before you even got to see his hands. It wasn’t his intention, he didn’t dislike not having his gloves on, truthfully he forgot they were on. But when he clued into your love for his hands he made sure to use that to his advantage every opportunity.

You couldn’t hold back the moan that fell from your lips when he ran his bare hand along your soft inner thigh. His nails were painted the same blue as his hair, not his usual black you noted before your head tipped back as the tip of his thumb brushed against your covered core. “Tsk tsk, I think these panties might be ruined.” His lips met your other inner thigh, his red paint already showing the trail of kisses from this evening. With a practiced motion, he pulled your panties off, barely needing you to raise your hips for him. “Does seeing your Captain on his knees really get you this wet?” You nodded, a breathy yes fell from your open mouth. “Or maybe you just like being in control, is that it?” The whine that got stuck in your throat was neither affirmative or dissenting, but where Buggy would normally egg you on for a definitive answer he relented, pressing another kiss higher on your thigh, the hem of your dress hiking higher up. His thumb swiped over your damp folds, not firm enough to get you any satisfaction, and he knew that. “Do you want to take charge?” There was a smirk on his painted lips that only widened when you nodded. “Go on then.” He subtly tipped his head forward, offering you his long hair to you, moaning when you grabbed his long ponytail and pulled him forward.

“If you do a good job, I may be persuaded to return the favour.” You barely had time to register his hot breath on your soaked folds before his mouth was on you, devouring your cunt like he hadn’t eaten in months. Your firm grip on his hair kept him snug against you, giving him no room to pull away, not that he had any intention of doing so. You tipped you head back, a long heavy breath forced from your lungs as you lifted your hips enough to rut against his face, his nose grinding against your clit at the perfect angle. You held him tighter, not missing the moan that was swallowed by your cunt as your impending climax approached. “Fuck B-Bugs just ah fuck just like that.” He pressed two fingers into you, the wet slapping of your cunt seemed almost deafening but he maintained an even speed and pressure against your clit as you were tossed over the edge. Your thighs clamped down around his head, your toes curled to the point of cramping and you held his ponytail so tightly he almost complained.

When you finally regained enough sense, you let go of him, widening your legs to free him from your grasp. He pressed one final kiss to your tingling folds, taking the briefest of seconds to probe his tongue into your hole before pulling away, savoring your taste. His hands ran up and down your legs, watching as you slowly began regaining normal functions, your body humming as he touched you. “Do you forgive me yet?” He pressed a kiss to your knee, resting his cheek on your leg as he gazed up at you.

“God you’re beautiful.” You hadn’t intended the sentence to leave your lips, watching as he immediately got flustered, his eyes turning to look down.

“You’re stealing my line” he tried to huff out a laugh as he began fiddling with the end of his long ponytail. You leaned forward, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at you, pulling him up to his feet so you could press your lips to his, the taste of your slick prevalent on his tongue. You wanted to say something, something clever, something that would make his knees weak, but every time you opened your mouth he needily swallowed your moans, returning them with moans of his own. Without parting your lips, you began to stand up, your dress falling back down around your thighs, your legs about as sturdy as those of a freshly birthed giraffe. You moved your hand to his shoulders, stepping around him and forcing him onto the stool you had just been sitting on. You pulled away from him before he was ready, his head moving to try to reclaim your lips but giving up quickly.

The sight before you was downright erotic, his pants tented, makeup smeared, lips and chin still wet with a mixture of your cum and saliva. His eyes were wide, vulnerable as they followed you, moving from your eyes down to your body then back up to meet your gaze again. You stepped closer to him, noticing the way he spread his legs wider for you to stand between them. You leaned in, watching as he moved to try to catch your lips once again, and not missing the almost nonexistent whine when you dodged his advance. Opting instead, to push his jacket off his shoulders, your hands gliding along his bare arms underneath the worn coat. Next your hands moved to his neck, one on either side pressing into the tendons that ran along his throat. You moved from his neck to the back of his head, running your fingers through the few spray hairs that had slipped from his up do. With gentle fingers you pulled his hair out of it’s style, watching as it cascaded down his shoulders and back like a waterfall. You could see his hand move out of habit, going to tuck a long strand that had fallen in front of his face behind his ear, but he stopped before his hand had even left his thigh. You carded your fingers through his tresses, humming softly as you worked the few knots straight, gently scratching at his scalp. “Bugs” You moved forward bringing your knees up on either side of him so you could straddle his lap, immediately feeling his covered cock rub against your bare core. “Bugs” You tried again, a slight sing song to your hushed voice as your lips pressed a kiss to his temple, only getting a hum in response.

His hands ran up your thighs, pulling the hem of your dress up high enough that he could see his bulge pressing right between your folds, had it not been for his pants being in the way he could have slipped right into your begging hole. He looked up at you, his eyes soft, his mind fuzzy. “My star-“ His voice trailed off, hoping you would give into him without him having to ask. But he should have known better, you had been on the receiving end of him for long enough to learn how effective begging could be. “Please don’t make me beg anymore.” He watched as a smile played across your lips, your hips grinding against him enough to pull a whine from his shiny lips. You reached forward, cupping his cheek and running your thumb over his lips in such a gentle way it almost seemed as though you weren’t so wet you were sure to be leaving a damp spot on his pants. You pulled your hand away, opting instead to pull your arms from the very narrow straps of your dress, allowing the top portion to slip down and expose your chest to him. As if there was any doubt, his cock twitched against you and he swallowed hard.

“C’mon Bugs, lemme hear it.” He pursed his lips slightly, his eyes looking up at your from under his heavy lashes.

“Please.” His voice was quiet and he knew it wouldn’t be enough, but he had a little bit of hope that you were just as desperate as he is. But when you shook your head he sighed heavily. “My star-“ he ran his hands along your sides, the feeling of his warm palms on your bare sides was enough to make you moan but as he moved them around, clearly intent on touching you, you grabbed his hand in yours and stopping him from grabbing at your breast. ”Please” His voice took on more of a whiny tone.

“I know you can do better than that.” You brought his hand to your face, licking along his index finger before leading it into your mouth to suck on it the way you would his cock. You rocked your hips, feeling the way the thick material of his pants moved between your folds.

“Baby please,” You moved your tongue around his digit, guiding his middle finger into your mouth as well, your eyes locked onto his. ”Fuck I’m sorry, p-please just let me f- let me fuck you.” The hand that wasn’t trapped in your grasp ran along your thigh, radiating heat like a warm glow. “I’m so desperate for you.” He bucked his hip up, huffing a hint of a laugh when he felt you moan around his fingers.

“Tell me you don’t want anyone else.” You pulled his fingers from your lips, ropes of spit connecting his fingers to your mouth.

“Of course I don’t, you’re my everything, my s-star, the light in my big t-top, my s-spotlight.” He struggled to get the words out, even despite the lack of penetration you could tell me was already so close. “Fuck please baby, I’m s-so close please please just let me fuck let me feel you ‘round me.” He nearly cried when he felt your hands on his button, pulling the fabric apart and fishing his aching cock out. You wasted no time sinking down on him, feeling him throb between your walls. You leaned forward, resting your head on his shoulder as you slowly pulled up off of him until just his head stayed inside. You slowly sat back down on his cock, grabbing a fistful of his long hair and tugging on it as he bottomed out.

“You do as you’re told, don’t you?” He nodded, pressing his forehead against your shoulder, his jaw tight as he tried to focus on not finishing. You pulled back, sitting up so he wasn’t able to hide his face on your shoulder, his head moving to look up at you, his eyes were glassy and his waterline was barely managing to keep his frustrated tears back. “What are you not gonna’ do?” You began very slowly fucking yourself on his cock, the hand that wasn’t holding onto his hair cupping your breast, your thumb swiping over your hard nipple.

“I’m not gonna’ let anyone touch me.” You tugged on his long hair again, a long moan pulled from his lips.

“And?”

“I’ll never miss another one of your performances.” His voice was rough, his words hard to piece together as he bucked his hips up into you, trying to meet your hips before you were fully sat.

“Do you promise?” You pressed your forehead to his, your eyes locking as you allowed a moan to fall from your lips.

“Y-Yes I swear.”

“On what?” The fact that you weren’t letting him cum after all this forced a sob from his lips.

“I swear on my fuck on my fame, m’ship, on everything I have.” He babbled, completely unaware that you had let go on his hair, were matching his thrusts and had guided his hands to your chest, he was too far gone.

“Cum for me.” You hadn’t even gotten to full sentence out before you felt warmth flood your cunt, a broken moan falling from his open mouth, his arms wrapped around your waist and pulling you as close to him as possible. His hips thrusted up into you, fucking his seed into you as he rode his orgasm out before going limp against you. His breath was coming in short bursts, his forehead pressed into your chest as he tried to pull himself together. You started to pull off him, before sitting down fully again, a cry forcing itself past his lips as you pulled his chin up, pressing a kiss to his nose. “You’re mine Bugs, don’t you forget that.” The only indication that he heard you was a short whine and his cock twitching inside of you.

[humanpurposes]

We're Born At Night

Chapter 3

Lady Rhaelle Targaryen of Runestone travels to King's Landing to plead for her sister's life, though the King she must bow to is a kinslayer three times over, and the very man who slaughtered her father

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen x Rhaelle Targaryen (OFC)

Warnings: 18+, mentions of death and war, Targaryens trying to flirt

Words: 6.8k

Days pass and every day Rhaelle brings herself to her knees before the throne, pleading for her sister’s restoration as Lady of Runestone, as their mother’s heir, for her freedom and for her life.

Aemond denies her. Again and again he denies her, and each day she appears before him, she thinks she sees his expression darkening. It is obvious that he is a proud man, a second son who was never meant to be King, repeatedly defied by the second daughter of a traitor. Lord Corlys tells her to give him time to persuade the King and the council. He also warns how quickly Aemond’s patience can turn into anger with deadly consequences. What else can she do but try, even if it means tempting his rage?

They have been here a fortnight and not much has improved. She and Daena often take tea with the other ladies and attend dinners in the throne room but Aemond’s court is an echo of what she remembers from the reign of his father. The dinners are polite, the music is sombre, the dances are slow. There is no joy in the castle, just talk of the fast approaching winter.

Back home, the running of the castle— her castle thanks to Aemond’s generosity— would keep her busy. Between her duties she would be able to steal a few hours for herself, read her favourite texts in the library or mount her horse and roam the surrounding lands as she pleased, bringing back pheasants because Alyssa was the sister to inherit their mother’s talent for hunting larger quarry.

One night she dreams she is riding her horse, a beautiful grey stallion she has back at Runestone named Semyon for the legendary knight with sapphires for eyes. It feels so real with the wind whispering in her ears, the scent of the fields and the forest, the slightly earthy taste on her tongue. She rides along the paths she has followed since she was a girl, the same her mother would have followed, and passes the valley where her body was found, tightening her grip on the reins and the saddle, as she always does. The sky seems to darken. A figure blocks out the sun and lets out a whistling, rippling screech, the cry of a beast she has only heard a handful of times, and never will again.

She is woken by a sound that still rings in her ears as her eyes open, sweat clinging uncomfortably to her skin. It sounds again, a faint clash of metal. It is a wonder it was even enough to rouse her. 

The stone floor stings against the bare skin of her soles, the cold creeping into her flesh and sinking itself into her very bones. Yet she walks, first to the chaise by the wardrobe to wrap a thick robe around herself, and then to the window. The days are darker now. The sun takes longer to rise and beyond her window the sky is a glum shade of grey.

Down in the courtyard, before the steps of the holdfast, a flash of silver catches her eye.

Aemond is a fearsome fighter, tall, lean and lithe, moving quickly and fluidly. He bests his opponent, Ser Willis, with a few brutal blows, holding the edge of his blade to the man’s throat. Before long he is eager to go again.

She can imagine him on a battlefield, his face silently furious, carving through the men and boys who dared to place themselves in his way. She can imagine him in the courtyard of a ruined castle, blood on his face and hands. They say he slaughtered each member of House Strong himself, and then he bedded one of their bastards and made her a Lady. Daena thinks he would not have given a servant such an honour unless she had borne him a bastard, but Princes have sired bastards before and had mistresses from far more noble backgrounds. What was so remarkable about Alys Rivers?

With a particularly harsh swing of his sword, Aemond brings his blade down upon Ser Willis’, but the Lord Commander recovers quickly and begins an attack. Aemond is clearly taken by surprise and quickly forced to his knees with a frustrated grunt, one which she hears easily through the quiet of the early morning. He is facing the window though she doubts he will notice her. He glares up at Ser Willis, lips parted as he pants for breath. He looks enraged, vengeful even, and she almost expects him to leap up and attack with renewed force. Instead he bows his head and accepts Ser Wills’ hand to help him to his feet.

As a slight draft brushes over the exposed parts of her skin, she imagines the sound of his breathing and finds herself struck by a strange feeling of emptiness.

Later that morning she dons a blood red gown and makes a journey through the castle which is all too familiar to her now, to the waiting chamber by the throne room. Lord Corlys is there, speaking to a man who she has only seen across a room, more often than not, glaring at her along with the Hightower brothers. He has wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, but his face appears surprisingly younger than the flecks of grey in his hair and his beard would suggest. He has sharp eyes that stay fixed on her as she approaches.

Concern briefly flashes over Lord Corlys’ face as he steps forward to greet her, but the other man already has his hand extended to her. “Unwin Peake,” he says. “We have not been formally introduced, Lady Rhaelle.”

She doesn’t like the sound of his voice or how he says her name, but smiles and takes his hand.

Unwin Peake fancies himself a war hero. Rhaelle is not so easily misled. She knows he led a thousand men under the banner of King Aegon, only for half of them to desert him when he proved a less than capable leader. She knows he tried and failed to seize control of the Hightower host after Tumbleton, that he quarrelled with his rivals to the point of bloodshed, and yet somehow earned himself a place on the Small Council before Aegon’s death. 

Lord Corlys catches her eye and seems to be uneasy. She gives him a small nod as Lord Unwin takes her by the arm and leads them into the throne room. It is a show of courtesy, one she must accept with grace.

Aemond is already upon the throne, legs crossed, leaning into one side, without fear of cutting himself on the blades. Noblemen and smallfolk alike come before him and he responds to every concern with such eloquence and certainty, as though the entire ordeal has been rehearsed. 

And he always looks ahead. Rhaelle stands on his seeing side, below the throne, but he shows no indication that he has seen her or that he intends to acknowledge her.

She knows what she will say and she knows what his reply will be, and in that certainty there is fear. She can hardly keep her hands still, pressing her fingernails into her skin to stop herself from trembling. The pain isn’t much of a distraction. All she feels is cold, even through the thick material of her gown. She pictures her sister in a cell, in the darkness, perhaps even in chains. 

Another chill slips down her spine as she hears a footstep sound softly behind her.

“Do you know what Lord Tyland has taken to calling you?” Unwin Peake’s voice hisses close to her ear.

Rhaelle clenches her jaw. She expects he will tell her whether she wants him to or not.

“He calls you the reluctant Lady of Runestone.”

She presses her nails deeper into her skin.

She finally spurns herself forwards. Aemond’s eye finds her as she enters his line of vision, fixed on her as she moves across the room and kneels before the throne.

She bows her head and stares down at the flagstones, at the crevices between the stones, the flecks of dirt and dust settled within. Any nervous or curious chatter has ceased. The hall is quiet enough that she is sure the onlookers will be able to hear her heart pounding in her chest. If she holds her breath she can see it pulsing through the neckline of her dress.

Meeting his eye is a strange sort of thrill. He watches her sternly, his lips pressed together in a thin line, his fingers tapping against the arm of the throne.

She opens her mouth to speak but his voice pierces the air, clear and demanding. “Dearest cousin,” he says, then exhales sharply through his nose. “You come before me yet again.”

“Your Grace–”

“No, I already know what you’re going to ask of me, and my answer will be the same. Alyssa Targaryen may be my blood but she defied her true King.”

“I know my sister. She is wise and just, but dragged into a war she should never have been a part of.”

“She is a traitor.”

“And yet she has not been put on trial. You seem content to hold her. Why? Allow her a chance to prove her innocence before she is condemned, or else let her return to her home.”

“You have come before me every day since your arrival, to plead on behalf of a traitor. I do wonder what that might make you, Lady Rhaelle?”

“It makes me loyal to my family. I love my sister, and her suffering is my suffering.”

“As admirable as that declaration may be, I have made my decision. I will not hear any more from you on this matter.”

“If you had a chance to save your own sibling from a terrible fate would you not take it? Could you ever forgive yourself if you stopped trying?”

Something about his face changes. There is an absence of amusement, something quiet but cold in the way his eyes and his lips soften.

When his eye falls away from her she thinks she might have made a grave mistake.

He holds the arms of the throne as he stands, grips the iron with his fingertips when it is barely in his reach. Without another word he leaves the hall through the side chamber, keeping his head and his crown held high, while his fists are clenched at his sides.

She shares a look with Lord Corlys, himself stunned at the irregularity. Aemond never leaves the throne room until he has heard each grievance, and never shies from his duties.

The King is an elusive figure at the best of times. He does not seem to enjoy the more frivolous aspects of rulership. If he is seen at dinners in the throne room, he confines himself to the high table along with Lord Corlys. Other than his early morning spars with Ser Willis in the courtyard or his occasional rides out into the Kingswood, he appears to spend most of his time in his chambers. She imagines him pouring over ledgers and papers by candlelight, his face hardened in concentration.

That night, when his seat at the high table remains empty, Rhaelle cannot help but fear she has been the cause of this absence. Did her words truly anger him so deeply? Is her persistence so vexing to him? 

She finds herself unable to settle when she retires to her chambers that night. She is starving and yet she has no appetite. Her body feels heavy and her head aches behind her eyes, yet her mind is spinning and will not allow her to find sleep.

He said he would not hear from her on the matter. She pushed too far, allowed her desperation to cloud her judgement and attempted to argue on sympathy rather than reason. Now she feels it all slipping away, any sense of control she had when she arrived in King’s Landing, any hope she had of reuniting their family after so many years. Why would she ever think that Aemond should show mercy to a prisoner on a plea of sisterly love?

He must have loved his sister, gentle Helaena, who wore a gown of pale blue and gold to the wedding of Alyssa and Jacaerys. She smiled rarely, never in the presence of her husband, she could barely even stand to take his arm as they entered the Sept and the throne room. Her eyes often found Aemond though, glassy with tears when he winced at the pain of his wound, as if she shared in it. Did he ever imagine, when he left for Harrenhal, that he would never see her again?

The next morning she wakes with the sunrise, somehow the shortened sleep has left her more awake than she usually is. She is already halfway dressed in her riding leathers, fashioned from a set of her mother’s, when Morra enters her bedchamber, and Rhaelle immediately sends her to the stables to ensure a horse is readied for her.

Finally, once she has pulled on her boots and tied her hair into a single braid, she heads down herself, but not before stopping by the window. The sun has yet to appear over the walls of the castle and the courtyard is empty.

She huffs to herself, at the restless feeling that’s been gnawing at her insides for weeks. 

The entrance yard at the front of the Red Keep is bustling with servants carrying baskets and barrels, men unloading carts and carrying their contents towards the kitchens. Morra is waiting for her by the steps, fiddling with the edges of her sleeves.

Rhaelle pulls out her gloves and slips them onto her hands. “Did you find me a horse?” she says.

“Yes, my Lady, but there is another matter–”

She can already see what the other matter is. Aemond is standing by the gates, dressed in black riding attire, arguing with one of the stable hands. He has a beautiful grey horse on a lead, with a coat that shimmers like silk in the early sunlight. The stable hand stands with a slightly smaller horse, brown with a white spot on its nose. These are both muscular creatures meant for speed.

Rhaelle approaches them with Morra close behind. “Your Grace,” she says firmly but calmly. The two men immediately cease and face her, the stable hand with his head bowed, Aemond with a slight frown on his face and the beginnings of a sneer on his lips. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Likewise, my Lady,” Aemond says, entirely unconvincingly.

There is noise all around them, voices, footsteps, men and women at work, and yet the silence between Aemond and Rhaelle is palpable. 

“I was intending to ride through the Kingswood this morning,” Rhaelle says, holding her hands firmly in front of her, unmoving, unafraid. “Perhaps you were intending to do the same?”

“I was.”

“What a happy coincidence,” she says, willfully ignoring the shortness of his tone. “We could ride together, then? I do not know the woods you see, I think I would benefit from having a companion.”

Aemond purses his lips, and glances between her and the horse being held by the stable hand. “It would be my pleasure, dear cousin.” 

She smiles graciously. 

Aemond hums to himself, then takes hold of the grey horse’s saddle and hoists himself into it with ease. As it happens, the brown horse is a similar size to Symeon. She finds her footing in the stirrup and hauls herself up, settling comfortably in the saddle. 

“You ride well, I assume?” Aemond asks her.

She tries not to display any contempt at this subtle insult. “I believe myself to be a more than competent rider, Your Grace.”

He offers her a tight smile, though it fades quickly. His seeing eye remains alert. 

Two men of the Kingsguard ride with them through the city. Aemond does not wear his crown but the people know their King, atop his horse, Blackfyre hanging from his hip, his silver hair tied away from his face but flowing proudly down his back, his eyepatch an unmissable feature. They stand aside as they move through the streets, met with awe, either glad or fearful, and distant calls of “long live the King!” 

Aemond does not wave, smile or bow his head to anyone, though he occasionally looks over his shoulder to meet her gaze. Does he expect her to disappear? Does he expect her to ram a knife into his back? 

How quickly he seems to phase through different states of being. One moment he is amused, the next proud, the next infuriated, concerned, remorseful. And how terrible he is at hiding this in his face, no matter how subtle he is, but a mystery remains because she still cannot read his thoughts, no matter how she pleads to the old gods and the new that she could.

Before long, they reach the southern gates of the city. She can see the forest ahead of them as soon as they are out of the walls of King’s Landing. The trees are dark, lush evergreens, reaching far from the west and east towards the seafront, to the cliffs that overlook the bay, raised on hills and going further south than she can see.

The guards stay with them a little longer, until they pass over a bridge across the Blackwater Rush and the road becomes quieter. Most of the people here are travelling along the Rose Road towards Highgarden, but Aemond leads her towards the treeline, along a path often used for hunting, so he says. It seems to head towards the coast.

Mostly staying at the edge of the forest, the trees are sparse. It’s not like the wide open fields and hills that she is used to. To one side she sees tree trunks, spots of darkness where the forest is thicker and closer. To the other she sees glimpses of the sky and the sea below it. 

Aemond slows his horse slightly so they can ride side by side at a comfortable trot. Now she cannot look out over the bay without looking at him, or appearing to at least. 

She realises they have not spoken a single word to each other since they left the castle.

“Do you ride often?” she asks.

“When I wish to, and when I can find time to,” he says without looking at her.

She nods to herself, letting her eyes linger on the way he rocks with the motions of the saddle, the way he grips the reins with gloved hands.

“I like to hunt back at Runestone,” she says, facing forward once more, “do you hunt?”

This captures his attention. He turns his head to her, glances up and down. “You did not bring a bow.”

“Or a blade, no. I was not intending to kill anything this morning.”

Aemond hesitates, then smirks. “I never made a habit out of hunting. It is a tedious sport, more suited to times of peace.”

It is a harrowing reminder of the kind of man who rides beside her, a man who kills and holds his own family prisoner.

“You like to spar too. I see you in the courtyard most mornings,” she says.

“I do not like to make a spectacle of myself.”

“I wasn’t suggesting you did, but it is rather difficult to avoid when it happens below my window.”

He turns his head towards Rhaelle, and she finds herself entirely distracted. Away from the gloom of the Keep, without his crown and the way he commands the fear of his courtiers, his beauty is unobstructed. His lips and his seeing eye settle in a way that seems gentle. “If it disturbs you then I shall remedy it.” 

“No need,” she says, “for what it is worth, you perform extremely well.”

He smiles again, dipping his head slightly as he adjusts his hold of the reins. “Come then, you say you are a competent rider, I’d like to see a performance from you,” he says, catching her eye.

Her breath stops in her throat. 

He kicks his horse’s side and in an instant he’s bolting down the path.

It takes her a moment to realise what he wants, kicking her horse into a canter, then quickly into a full gallop. It follows her commands easily enough but she remains cautious, keeping a tight grip on the reins and with her thighs, chasing the gleam of silver ahead of her. She does not know if Aemond is leading her or racing her, and for now she doesn’t care. Excitement surges through her. She feels the impact of the horses hooves as they meet the dirt. Her stomach drops as they head deeper into the forest, darting between branches, leaping over streams and fallen trees.

She seems to be gaining on Aemond and spots a ridge she thinks might allow her to overtake him. It’s a risk she takes without thinking it through, urging her mount up and along the narrow trail. They seem to stumble at one point but she doesn’t stop. She passes Aemond, just as she thought she would. He looks up at her with a wide eye, the traces of a laugh echoing behind her as she leaps down, back onto the main path. 

There’s a clearing not far ahead where the path splits into two, she would wager Aemond had this in mind as an end point. She slows her horse gradually, checking behind her to see him doing the same. She turns the horse to face him, trying not to beam or appear too pleased with herself, but she cannot help it. Her cheeks burn at the exertion and the effort it’s taking to withhold her smile.

The sun is rising higher above them. The light catches on his hair, the thin sheen of sweat on his brow, the curve of his lip as he tries to catch his breath. “I’d say you are more than competent,” he calls, tugging on the reins to bring his own horse to a stop.

“I spent most of my childhood on horseback,” she says. “Ser Gerold always said I took after my mother.”

His amusement fades into something passive, observant.

“She used to take Alyssa and I out with her one at a time in the saddle with her. As soon as I was old enough to ride by myself I could hardly be kept from the stables. Alyssa and I used to race each other around the hills for hours, or until we were called back to the castle for our lessons.”

Aemond watches her as she speaks, breathing deeply, his brow hardened like he’s trying to concentrate.

“Still,” she says, patting her horse’s neck as it starts to get restless, “I cannot imagine it could ever compare to riding a dragon.”

“It is a poor substitute, to be sure,” Aemond says quietly, like he did on the balcony, but she can see the change in him again. With a quick huff, the gentle look in his face disappears and he dismounts his horse. “There’s a stream close by, we should water the horses.”

He approaches her, reaching his hands up to help her dismount. Her more prideful side wishes to tell him she does not need the help, but she accepts it, swinging her leg round so he can hold his waist as he lowers her down. She keeps her hands on his shoulders, even once her boots have met the ground. The pressure of his fingertips through the thick layers of fabric are almost intangible, but it makes her breathless all the same.

They take the horses to the stream at the edge of the clearing, tying the leads to a tree and patting them down reassuringly as they drink. Rhaelle sits herself in the grass, out in the sunlight. Aemond joins her, but he reminds her of a cautious animal, following her a little unsurely, sitting beside her, always watching the space around them.

The air is cold but she feels the sun’s warmth beaming down on her face.

She hears Aemond take a breath before he speaks. “You never claimed a dragon?”

“No,” she says.

“You never had an egg in your cradle?”

“No. My mother insisted her children would be born and raised in her home.”

“And in the traditions of House Royce?”

“For the most part.”

“But your father never…” he stops himself with a deep breath. With his chin tilted down he lifts his gaze to look at her. The sunlight shines in his right eye, cold and clear like a stream, like a cloudless violet sky at dusk. Like this, sat amongst overgrown grass and the last of the autumn wildflowers, he doesn’t look like a tyrant. He doesn’t look like a man who burned half of the Riverlands to ash and fought in a battle that left the waters of the God’s Eye red with blood. 

Ser Gerold would have been glad to see Daemon’s end. He called it “justice” when news came to Runestone of his death, justice for the wife he murdered and the daughters he neglected. 

Looking at Aemond now she wonders if he regrets it. Does he look at her and see the eyes of the man he killed staring back at him? Does it haunt him to be near her, is that why he watches her so intently?

“I asked him once if I could fly with him,” she says. “I was so desperate to know what it was like. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t laugh or scoff, he just looked down at me. My suggestion was so unremarkable that he didn’t waste so much as a breath on me. Of course I went crying to my mother about it. She took me into her arms and told me that the only difference between riding a dragon and riding a horse was the distance between you and the ground. So much further to fall, she said.”

He tilts his head. “I cannot disagree with her.”

And oh how her father must have fallen, through fire and empty space, into blood and water.

“What was it like to have a dragon?” she asks.

Something in him comes alive. He looks at her with a quiet excitement, shuffling ever so slightly closer to her. “I used to believe a dragon was a birthright. My siblings all claimed their mounts when they were young, and my nephews shared their cradles with eggs and watched them hatch. For many years I was an outlier, a dragonless Targaryen, I was nothing. But it is an earned right, one that must be claimed.” As he speaks he draws his knee up to rest his arm upon it, his hand restless as he speaks. “Dragons are creatures with their own wills. We cannot control them fully, but we guide them.”

“And you claimed the fiercest of them,” she says.

She remembers Driftmark like it was a dream. She remembers standing by the sea as the coffin of Laena Velaryon was delivered to the waves, looking at the faces of a family she scarcely knew in the aftermath, clinging to the only people she had left in the world, Daena and Alyssa.

She remembers someone storming into her chambers as she slept, the shadowy face of her father appearing in the moonlight that beamed through the window. “We are needed in the Hall of Nine,” he said.

“We?”

He found Alyssa in the next room and left Daena to sleep, marching down the dark corridors of Hightide. They walked in on a scene that terrified her. While their father leaned against the doorway, almost amused, Alyssa and Rhaelle walked further inside, hand in hand. They could not see clearly past the crowd that had gathered to watch this battle between the Princess and the Queen, but there was shouting, pleading, blood on the faces of Rhaenyra’s sons and blood on the face of the King’s son, Aemond.

She peered through the bodies, the fabric of nightgowns and the haze of the braziers to see him sitting there, stitches in his face, smaller cuts on his brow and his lip. He didn’t look at the eye discarded in a tray by his side, he didn’t look to his siblings for reassurance or comfort. First he glared at his father with a hatred that somehow seemed contained, stunned but unsurprised. Then he looked at his mother, with far more understanding than a child should ever have to need.

“Do not mourn me, mother,” the boy said, “I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon.”

“A dragon is terror and freedom,” Aemond says as her eyes drift over the edges of his scar and the details of the leather patch that conceals the rest. “When I claimed Vhagar, centuries of power and strength became mine. I felt her in solitude, I learned from her.”

It shows, she thinks, that he grew bonded to a beast of conquest, a witness to her fire and majesty, and took that into himself.

Her eyes trail lower, over his jaw, the pale skin of his neck just visible beneath his collar, which ends with a silver buckle. She can pinpoint the rise and fall of his breath, the detailings of golden dragons against the black leather, his hair draped over his shoulders and down his body.

She feels her legs getting numb and shifts her weight onto her palm, placed on the grass beside her so that she leans in closer to him.

“But to take flight on Vhagar,” Aemond says softly, a hint of a smile on his lips, his eye gleaming and trained on her, “to feel the force of her wings, the wind and the weightlessness…”

She feels herself clinging to every word he says, each subtle breath he takes, the minuscule movements in his face as he inches closer to her. Only for her heart to sink when he pauses. 

He reaches up, taking the end of her braid between his gloved fingers. “I wish you could have known what it was like.”

“It is like you said,” she says, “it is not a birthright, it is something earned.”

“By those of our blood,” Aemond says, his eye darting back up to meet hers. “You should have had the chance to earn it.”

Our blood, the blood of dragons and conquerors, of Queens and Princes, of weak Kings and cruel fathers.

He releases his hold of her hair, positioning it over her shoulder and tracing his fingertips over the coat of her leathers. His eye follows, then slowly returns to her face. “Might I show you something?” 

“Yes, of course,” she says, carefully withholding eagerness in her voice. “Shall we fetch the horses?”

“No,” Aemond says, rising and offering his hand for her to take. “We’ll go on foot.”

He keeps her hand in his, leather against leather, as he leads her down the path, freshly disturbed by hoof prints, away from the clearing and back into the forest. He stops where the path diverged into two and with a small inclination of his head, they walk along the trail that leads uphill. This way is not as the other, overgrown with grass and even the thick, twisted roots of trees. Aemond is keen to guide her, walking just ahead, tightening his grip on her at the slightest of obstacles. 

The hill becomes steep, and in fact she is grateful for his caution when she loses her footing on a loose rock and he is there to steady her, determined that she shall stay upright. The higher they climb the sparser the trees, the louder the wind howls, the closer the sound of the water becomes. The path leads on, but Aemond stops and steps out into the open.

She stands behind his shoulder to shield herself from the wind, clutching his hand and squinting through the blinding sunlight on the eastern horizon, over the waves of the Blackwater, roaring and crashing against one another, against the base off the cliff they stand on. The city is nothing but distant shapes, further along the curve of the shore. The Red Keep, where standing at its gates seems to reach high into the heavens, seems so unremarkable from here. The cold seeps through her leathers. Sea salt stings in her eyes and on her tongue.

“My mother’s sworn shield taught me to ride on horseback, Ser Criston Cole. He’d lead me through these woods, until I knew all the trails by heart,” Aemond says, leaning into her so she can hear him. His breath is warm against her ear, his grip on her hand still unrelenting. “I came across this place when I was a boy. I used to sit here for hours, especially when the others would ride their dragons.”

Gulls sail effortlessly through the sea air. She imagines dragons in their place.

“A childish indulgence,” Aemond mutters.

“Show me,” she says, tilting her head up to meet his eye.

He smiles to himself. “Stand there,” he says, pointing to the very edge of the cliff face, at a slab of grey stone reaching out below the rocks and spray of the sea.

“On the ledge?” she says, her legs unsure beneath her.

He releases her hand to gently guide her by her waist. “Right here,”

Her stomach lurches when her boots leave the earth. If it is the truth or a trick of the mind the stone seems to move beneath her. “Aemond, I’m going to fall!”

But he holds her waist tight, pulling her into him until she feels the heat of his body through their riding leathers, the hilt of Blackfyre pressing against her back.  “I’ve got you,” he murmurs in her ear, “I’ve got you.”

She cannot seem to breathe, gasping for air as she wills her heart to calm. She grasps at his hands, clinging to him as if he would not merely fall with her. His proximity to her is not quite comforting, it only seems to make her more afraid, but it is a pleasant sort of fear.

“Can you imagine it,” he says, leaning his cheek against her temple, “out of reach of the rest of the world, the heat of a dragon beneath you, the wind against your skin, the weightlessness?”

The force of the wind seems to push her closer into his grasp. She can feel the terror. One misstep and she will fall, her body dashed out over the rocks below, her blood feeding into the water.

“I could feel her fire brewing beneath her hide. I could feel it burning in my blood and my throat before she unleashed it,” Aemond whispers, his lips grazing the shell of her ear.

She shudders, letting herself turn into him, letting her hands close around his wrists.

He leans into her, resting his forehead against hers. She feels his heat. She feels something like fire burning in her blood and wonders if it burns in his too. A gloved hand delicately takes her chin. 

It would be easy to give into him, she thinks. She would have been glad to do it the first time she laid eyes upon him.

But she knows she must not allow herself to be ruled by impulse and desire. She cannot escape him completely but she turns her head back towards the open water. Aemond is still holding her, still breathing against her neck.

She waits for him to guide her back, to the safety of solid ground, away from the ledge. Now he cannot meet her eye.

They walk back to the clearing and Aemond holds her hand again, though this time she does not stumble. Aemond unties her horse, helps her into her saddle and she waits for him before they set off back down the path.

The ride back to King’s Landing is a silent one. Each step their horses take through the woods feels heavy in her ears, the closing of a door, the beat of a funeral drum. She looks ahead to Aemond, hoping he will turn back and catch her eye but he does not. 

She wants to tear her hair out from the roots and strike herself across the face. She couldn’t afford to make another mistake and yet she has done exactly that. What if the King feels slighted? What if he holds this against her? 

The guards are waiting for them by the bridge and escort them back through the city. The streets are busier and grey now that the sun has risen and hidden itself behind a sky of clouds.

But the entrance yard at the Red Keep is no longer filled with servants. Instead the clashes of steel ring out against the walls of the castle, as men of the Kingsguard, nobles and knights spar, to the awe of a few spectators.

Aemond pays little mind to the people in the yard. Even when they greet him he simply nods his head. As his horse is taken by a stable hand, swings a leg over the head and slips effortlessly from the saddle.

Then he approaches her horse, wordlessly holding out his hands, offering his assistance. She allows this, and purposefully turns to face him once her boots have met the ground, keeping her hands on his shoulders, not too firmly, for she cannot appear to be too forceful.

“Your Grace,” she says, determined that their eyes should meet again. “I am sorry if I have offended you, truly,” she says quietly, though she will hardly avoid attention when she stands with the King, his hands lingering on her waist, more timidly than he had been in the woods.

Aemond looks at her, and once again his expression is a gentle one. “I am anything but,” he says, one of his thumbs tracing circles over her leathers. He lowers his voice. “The truth is I am deeply moved by your loyalty to your sister. You were right, I have regrets of my own.”

There have been all kinds of rumours regarding Queen Helaena’s death. Some say she was pushed from the window, perhaps even by Rhaenyra herself, and others say she threw herself from it. She was driven mad by grief, supposedly, since the murder of her eldest son, and perhaps she could bear the pain no longer. Perhaps the cause was the false news of Aemond’s death at the God’s Eye. At first the only news had come from smallfolk in the nearby lands, that both Princes had fallen. A fortnight later Aemond arrived at King’s Landing, dragonless, but decidedly alive.

“I often ask myself why I did not do more for them. Why did I put them in danger? Why did I leave them? Why did I not return to them…”

Something else catches his attention. His gaze has moved from her face, to the leather breastplate she wears under her coat, embroidered with ancient runes, naturally.

“What does that say?” he asks in a voice like ice, tracing his fingertips over the golden thread, over the same markings written into the sleeves of the first gown she wore in King’s Landing.

“Have you seen it before? It is an old saying in the Vale,” she says, startled by another shift in him, “the words read: learn to die.”

His throat hums, lowly and softly. His eye returns to hers, his lips curling into a self assured smile, the kind that infuriates her because it means he knows something she does not.

He releases her waist, then reaches for her hand. He pinches the end of her right glove and pulls it from her slowly, the lack of warmth stinging her bare skin.

He whispers, “I cannot give you what you ask of me, not now at least. But I will try.” He raises her hand and presses his lips against it. “I promise you, I will try.”

Blood blooms beneath her cheeks. For once Aemond’s words fill her with hope. He seems sincere, she wants that to be the truth.

She smiles politely. “Thank you, Your Grace—”

“Your Grace!” Calls a voice from the steps to the Keep. Aemond’s hand falls away from hers and he faces away from her as Martyn Hightower approaches them. “All the preparations have been made for you to receive Lady Floris and Lady Cassandra. They are expected to arrive before the day’s end.” 

She watches Aemond bring one hand to the hilt of his sword. The other he brings behind his back, clenched in a fist. “Good,” he says, and turns towards Rhaelle again, his body following his head. “Thank you for accompanying me this morning, my Lady.”

She takes a breath, meaning to thank him but then he’s stalking across the yard and disappearing into the castle.

Rhaelle decides she can hardly bear the sight of him walking away.

Tags (comment to be added)

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya @dreamsofoldvalyria @lacebvnny

Series taglist: @adragonprinceswhore @persephonerinyes @gemini-mama @aemondzyrys @snh96 @magnificentdelusionr @aegonx @xxxkat3xxx @dahlias-and-marigolds @mandiiblanche @thaisthedreamer @heavenly1927 @herfantasyworldd @heimtathurs @minttea07

[gretavangroupie]

The Ripe and The Ruin (Chapter 9)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader, OC x Reader, Jake Kiszka, x OC

Word Count: 17.6k

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Smoking, Angst, Anxiety, Lying, Allusions to cheating, Deceit, Arguing, Yelling, Mental and Emotional Manipulation, Vulnerability, Kissing and Sexual Themes.

Find the Playlist Here: Apple Music | Spotify

A new series in collaboration with my talented co-writer @gretavanmoon.

A/N: The final chapter! Thanks so much for sticking this one out with us. Major shout out to @gretavanmoon who bore the brunt of this last chapter as I experienced some mental burnout. This wouldn't have happened without her fierce dedication to this story. I hope you love the end of this story, and keep your eye out for what we are cooking up next.

"Like all good fruit, the balance of life is in the ripe and ruin."

JAKE POV

Your clenched fists are still resting on the cold metal elevator doors, your forehead falling down to join them. Fuck. Fuck fuck…everything is fucking ruined for real, now. Why did you have to let your urges get the best of you last night? Everything you could have had…

Your fists pound a few more times as you hear a commotion in the hallway behind you, realizing that a few people had now joined you in the quiet corridor. You pull away from the elevator doors to gather your thoughts, the rage rushing through your bloodstream as you pace the hardwood floors. You’re mad. You’re so fucking mad. At everyone, and at everything. But mostly, you’re disappointed in yourself.

“What the fuck do I do now?” you murmur as the strangers board the elevator, giving you a few tight smiles and nods as the doors close on them. You feel like you could take on a hundred men, let your fists fly and your tongue shoot daggers at anyone who dared walk past you. But you know that’s not you. It’s just the adrenaline, the disappointment, the regret…

Angry tears are pricking at your eyes as you rush back to the room, feeling as if you could walk right through the wall. This is it, it’s all over. No more. It’s done.

You force the door open and hear it hit  the wall behind it, finding Isla still wrapped up in the bed sheets as she stands beside the bed, your phone in her hand. 

“Isla, what the fuck are you doing?” you shout, feeling your face grow hot. Her mouth is gaping open, the look on her face one you’re oh-so familiar with. “Is that my phone?”

She turns the screen to face you, showing you the photo that you had taken of Y/N in that not so innocent position a couple of weeks ago, with yourself buried inside her. You rip the phone from her hand, completely embarrassed for yourself, and for her. 

“Real fucking classy, Jacob. And I went through your texts with her, too! What the fuck?! You were lying to me all along ! This whole time!” she screams, pulling the sheets up over her chest.

You can hardly see straight. Your vision is blurry and you can hear your heartbeat in your ears. Your hands go numb and you feel your face absolutely burning with wild rage. 

“Are you fucking kidding me, Isla?!” You scream, feeling as if your voice isn’t your own. You squeeze your phone in your hand before launching it across the room, watching as it smacks hard against the wall, leaving a mark in the drywall before it falls to the wooden floor. 

“That is a complete invasion of privacy! I did not give you permission to do that! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” you shout, letting your hands come up and cover your eyes. You can’t even bear to look at her anymore. “You know what? Get out. Get the fuck out of my room. Now.”

Your chest is heaving and you can hear her starting to mope, letting out exasperated breaths as you hear her throw the sheets back onto the bed. You finally uncover your eyes but you still can’t see straight, you’re so blinded with rage. You busy yourself with whatever the fuck you can do while Isla gets dressed, haphazardly throwing her things into her bag as she barks out bursts of bitchiness again. 

“How fucking could you, Jake? After all we had, after all this… I came here for you, you slept with me, and now I find out you’ve been fucking her all along?!”

“I told you I was sleeping with her, Isla! Goddamnit! You asked, and I told you… I don’t know what the fuck else you want me to say. I didn’t… I didn’t mean for last night to happen, you know that always fucking happens with us, and I regret it, already. All of it…” 

You hear the sobs come through her nose as she stuffs her things in her bags. “Where the fuck do you want me to go Jake?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“I don’t know. I don’t really care, at this point. I didn’t even invite you here,” you shoot back, almost defeatedly. 

She huffs a sarcastic laugh. “Just like you… have sex with me, really good sex with me… then toss me away after. That’s all you’ve ever wanted me for, anyway. Just a good fuck. Nothing’s ever gonna change with you, is it? You’re always gonna be a fucking jerk…” she rambles, reigniting that flame in your chest. You step closer to her, close enough to feel her breath on your face. 

“Don’t you ever accuse me of that, Isla,” you growl through gritted teeth. “Do not ever fucking take it there. That could not be further from the truth, and you fucking know it.” If you weren’t blind with rage before, you sure as hell are now, accusing you of only ever wanting her for that. 

She picks up her phone and taps around the screen. “You’re the love of my life, Jake. But I swear to god I question why I’m even with you every single day…” she pulls the phone up to her ear. 

“We aren’t together, Isla! You need to get that through your head!” you yell, raising your hands up in the air. “Please, get the fuck out of my room!” 

She puts her phone onto speaker and you hear Lyla’s voice on the other end. 

“Hey, Ly? I’m coming to your room. What’s the number?” you hear her throw on her fake tears as she speaks. She throws her bag strap over her shoulder as she brushes past you. “No, I’m not fine, I just need to get the fuck away from him for a minute.”

A minute… A minute?!

Is this ever going to fucking end?

On her last word, the door slams in your face. You stand in the middle of the room, catching the breath that you’d essentially been holding for the past five minutes. You can feel a cold sweat beading up on your face as you replay everything that happened and all the horrible decisions you’ve made. The look on Y/N’s face just now… All of it came rushing back as you felt so out of control of your life, you nearly blacked out with regret. Regret for even saying yes to that date with Isla all those years ago. Regret for allowing her to stay here this long, and using her as a toy to make Y/N jealous. But mostly for what you did last night. Stupid, stupid. 

The thought of having sex with her last night churns your stomach, and that’s how you know for a fact that you never want to have her in that way ever again. No matter how well you mesh together in that capacity. The way you feel when you’re with Y/N trumps it altogether, the emotions she drags from you outshining everything you ever had with Isla by a landslide. 

Suddenly, things make a little bit of sense. Suddenly, a tiny bit of clarity hits your swirling mind. You feel as though you could harness all of the negative feelings harboring themselves within you right now, march downstairs and find Y/N, throwing everything to the wayside as you confess your feelings for her. Tell her exactly how you feel. God damnit, do you…? No, the feeling is too strong. It’s more than that. It’s an overwhelming feeling of respect for everything that she is, everything that she ever will be. All the beauty she naturally carries and the pride she has within herself. And you’re fucking whipped for her.

But you don’t even deserve to give her that satisfaction. She deserves the world. She deserves you at your best, rid of all your demons and baggage and horrible moods. And way deep down, deeper than it’s even comfortable enough to think about, you know that Murph is probably giving that to her. He’s probably giving her fun, and comfort, and making her laugh… He’s probably loving her just the way she should be loved, the way you could be loving her.

That realization doesn’t help the fact that you feel like pressing your boot against his face, though. 

You walk over and pick your phone up from the floor, already expecting the worst. It’s cracked and damaged, the screen resembling a perfect spider web on the corner. “Goddamnit,” you breathe as you fall back down onto the bed. Just as you’re catching your breath, the alarm on your phone goes off, letting you know that you have a smooth fifteen minutes to get dressed and downstairs to meet the rest of the guys to head to soundcheck. 

You wonder what Y/N is doing right now. Is she crying, still? Or is she with Murph, letting him comfort her for something he has absolutely nothing to do with? The whole thing puts another sickening feeling in your stomach as you run your hand over your face, knowing that you need to take the fastest shower known to man. 

Your phone dings with another notification, and you’re surprised the thing even wants to make noise right now. You look down to see Josh’s name in the groupchat. You carefully slide your thumb across the shattered screen, cursing yourself for not putting a protector on it while you had the chance.

Josh

9:46AM: Good morning bitches! It’s a beautiful day! Get your asses downstairs

You roll your eyes at his positivity as you drag your body up to stand. As you make your way into the bathroom and start the shower, you hear your phone sound with a different notification. 

The screen is lit up with something that used to bring you so much joy, but now seems to be a vessel for communication that sends a wave of sadness straight to your gut. 

‘Y/N Added A Song to Your Shared Playlist: 🐥’

A song you hadn’t even thought about since high school, ‘Don’t Speak’ by No Doubt. 

She didn’t want to talk. This is her way of telling you to stay away.

You let your phone fall back down onto the counter as you listen to the song play out, already dreading the fact that your day is only going to get much, much worse.

—

HER POV

Your entire body feels numb as you rush out of the elevator door, your eyes blurred and sticky from fighting back tears once again. 

How fucking could he? Is everyone lying to you? He must really still love Isla, nothing makes any fucking sense…

You’re pacing down the ground floor hall to your room, hoping to the heavens that you don’t run into anyone along the way. You bring your hands up to cover your face, your frozen fingertips burning against the warmth of your face. It’s almost as if the rage you feel has manifested itself, ready to fly free as you replay the scene you’d just walked in on over and over in your mind. 

Isla is so gorgeous… perfect in every sense of the word. Of course he slept with her, how could he not? The look on his face once he realized it was you washed over you again and again, embarrassed and ashamed, already mourning every single thought of what could have been.

You didn’t want to see him. You didn’t want to speak to him. Ever again. You pulled out your phone and pulled up the music app, opening your shared playlist and adding the only song that you can think of at the time that would get straight to the point of telling him not to bother you anymore. Don’t Speak.

It felt sudden, it felt jolting… especially considering the rollercoaster of emotions the two of you had shared since he made this playlist on the plane. So many ups and downs in so little time. You had to give him that, at least. He’s made you feel more than anyone else has in a long, long time.

Like an old friend you truly didn’t want to see, someone presented themselves in front of you, grabbing at your arms with their strong, steady hands. Even through the blurriness of your tears and the racking of sobs in your chest, you knew that it was Ezra. 

“Baby, whoa whoa, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” he begged as you cursed him for happening to find you in the hallway. “Come here, why are you crying?” he asks, trying his best to take you in his arms. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine, Murph. I just– I’m fine, promise!” You try to play it off by sounding more sincere than the situation constituted, but there was no way you could divulge the actual reason for your unhappiness. 

“No you aren’t, baby… Tell me, you want me to walk you back to your room?” he purred, his normally gruff voice now calm and comforting.

“No, I swear, I’m just having a moment. But thank you, I’m–I’m almost there, anyway…” his arms were gently wrapped around you as you finally met his eyes, pleading and full of so much worry that it almost made you cry even harder. This sweet, sweet man, caring so much as to stop what he was doing and console you. 

The two of you walk a few paces more in the direction you’d been headed, his body language telling you that he was still yet very concerned. “You sure you don’t wanna tell me what’s wrong?” he asks, his deep brown eyes scanning yours.

You purse your lips, using both hands to wipe away the remnant tears as you try to dry yourself up. “I just… can’t.”

He nods slowly, “Alright, babe.” He cups your face, using both thumbs to wipe away your tears as he bends down to your level. “You don’t have to tell me… let’s just get you back inside, okay?”

You nod, letting him pull you further down the hall. “This the room?” he asks. 

“Yeah, this one here,” you say as you pull your room key from your pocket. You unlock and open the door, wanting nothing more than to crash into the room and cry alone in peace. Murph stands at the doorway, not wanting to be too forward and let himself all the way in, all the while still wearing that horrified look of worry. 

You turn to him, placing a soft hand to his chest. “Thanks, Murph. I promise, I’m fine. I’m just being a girl, ya know. Hormones and stress and whatnot,” you lie, making you feel the strangest sense of guilt. 

His soft smile makes butterflies erupt in your stomach, his strong arms reaching all the way around you and embracing you in a warm and comforting hug. “I had a really good time, last night. Been thinkin’ about you all morning, thought about you all night…” he says softly. “Just kinda threw me for a loop when I saw you crying, after I left you that note I just thought–”

“Well you thought wrong,” you interrupted him. “That was the sweetest thing to wake up to. I was actually really upset that you’d left so early…”

He smiles again, this time with a bit more relief. “Really? I mean, I’m sorry… duty called and I just couldn’t wake you up. You looked so pretty and peaceful,” his words are soft as he pulls a few strands of hair behind your ear. “You sure you aren’t mad at something I did? You don’t regret last night?”

You shake your head, feeling a little clarity. “No. No regrets.” His sweetness makes you want to melt into a puddle. You’ve really never had someone show affection in the same manner as Murph. “I’ll see you later?” you ask as he steps back from the threshold. 

“Yeah, babe. Hope you feel better.” And with a sweet wink, he’s disappearing back down the hall. 

You feel hysterical as you fall face-first into your bed sheets, letting the tears you held back find their place in your eyes once again. You don’t really deserve to cry, as you’ve found another route of happiness in Murph, but still yet, you allow yourself to be upset at the fact that Jake had the audacity to be intimate with Isla again after so much time telling you how much he didn’t want her anymore. 

So you cried, for a long while you cried… before you decided all of your tears were being wasted on something you had no business being upset about. You drag yourself from the bed and begin running a bath, throwing in a few pumps of body wash to make a bubble bath. You toss your clothes onto the floor and test the temperature, finding it to be perfectly scalding hot.

As you let your muscles sink down into the velvety smooth bubbles and hot water, you realize that you haven’t even told Ruth about your night with Murph, yet. You dial a FaceTime call, propping your phone safely behind a few bottles as you cover your exposed self with the white fluffy bubbles. 

“Hey bitch. Oh my god, are you naked?!” she wails when you finally see her face lighting up the screen. 

“No, Ruth, I have my clothes on in the bathtub. Yes, I’m naked you idiot,” you reply with a laugh as you pull your hair on top of your head. 

“Ugh, I love you but I don’t love you that much. Anyway, what’s up? Why is your face red?” she asks as she crunches down on a baby carrot.

You just stare at her on the screen, waiting for her to read your mind. 

“Have you been crying? You’ve been crying, why? What happened? Assface Jerkhead Guitar boy? Don’t tell me Muscles Van Gorgeous made you mad… which one? Which one’s life am I sabotaging?” she asked in succession, making a smile find your face for the first time in a day. 

“Neither Ruth, neither…” you sighed. “I just… I finally hooked up with Murph last night.”

“Oh my GOD! You’re kidding. Fuck yes, okay… how was it? Where? After the concert?” she asks as she adjusts herself in her seat and pulls her feet up underneath her.

“Yes, after the concert. We had an excellent time… and I managed to make Jake jealous, somehow. He was with Isla of course, and I guess he saw me and Murph getting comfy and he fucking texted me, Ruth. Asking me what the hell I thought I was doing?” Your hand flew up into the air above the bubbles as you spoke. “Anyway, I ignored him. And me and Murph kinda… had a rendezvous in his truck in the parking garage of the hotel.”

“You sly bitch…” she growls cutting her eyes. “Okay, and how was it? Was he everything you ever dreamed of?”

You nodded hard. “Yeah, he was…” you filled your cheeks up with air. “Fucking great, honestly. He’s so nice and sweet, but I could tell he has another side about him, ya know?”

“He a freak, ain’t he? Tell me he a freakkkkk, Y/N…”

You laugh. “I don’t know about that, but he definitely isn’t vanilla, thank god. Anyway umm… So this morning, I remembered that Jake added a song to the playlist last night that was basically saying he didn’t want to fight. And I didn’t either. So I decided that I would go and try to clear the air with him while Isla was there, there was no way I was going to leave things like they were. So, I went down into the lobby and got coffee for him and Isla. I was just going to drop it off and do my due diligence and apologize… leave it at that so they could go on with their lives.”

“You got her a coffee?! Okay, ballsy! I hope you spit in it…”

“RUTH ANN! Take that back!” you yell, letting it echo through the bathroom.

She shrugs. “I’m just sayin’. Continue…”

“Annnnnyways, Isla opened the door, and she was standing there, half naked and wrapped up in their bedsheets. Jake was um. Getting dressed behind her.” You feel a bit sorry for yourself as you pick up some bubbles in your palm, blowing them into the air and watching as they fall, joining the others in the sea of soapy white suds. 

“That dog.” Ruth growls. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Nope.”

“So what did you do?” she asks, sounding a bit defeated herself as she cupped her chin in her hands. 

You sigh hard as you rub your wet hands over your face. “I put the coffees down, stormed off, added “Don’t Speak” by No Doubt to the playlist so he would get the message to leave me the hell alone, and then Murph found me in the hall. Saw me crying. Thought he’d done something wrong.”

“No, not my sweetums Erza! He could never! Did you tell him he was perfect and beautiful and kiss him?”

You laugh at her ability to always keep things so lighthearted. “Yes, well kind of. I told him that I was just being a crazy woman with crazy woman feelings. Bless his heart, he is the actual sweetest. Anyways, now I’m calling you.”

“So, you’re pissed. And you’re crying. So what are we gonna do?” she presses.

You sigh, your mind traveling a million miles a minute as you wish you could just pull the drain and let yourself flow down the pipes with your bathwater. “I don’t know, Ruth. I tried, I really did.”

“Okay, here’s the plan,” she brushes her hands against one another. “Murph has done nothing wrong, right? He’s innocent, here. Maybe he deserves all of your attention.”

“Yeah but I don’t want to even associate with the male species right now, Ruth! I hate them all,” you bellow through a fake forced laugh. 

“Okay. So just keep doing your job and try your best and just see how everything goes. But don’t be a bitch to Murphy, he gives good D and we want to keep that momentum,” she says. 

You cover your face with your hands again. “Ruth, I swear to god… Ugh. Listen, I have to get out of here and get dressed. See what other fresh hell awaits me at this next show.”

“Ok, boss. Clean it up, add more feminine energy songs onto the playlist. Maybe some Alanis Morrissette or Fiona Apple perhaps? Little Miranda Lambert? Let him know that you are a bad bitch that don’t need no man?”

“I’m hanging up Ruth! Love you!”

“Adios, whore!!!” she yells back as you reach up and press the red button, taking a breath before pulling the plug of the tub. You realize it’s time to put on your game face, deciding that making it through these next few shows without another damned argument was going to prove more difficult than you anticipated.

—

JAKE POV

Though your mind feels like mush, your hands feel like they’re razor sharp, going through the motions of soundcheck with ease. Sam’s only shot you a couple of side-eyes as he apparently has picked up on your bad mood, but you hope that he brushes it off. 

You’d spent the majority of soundcheck eyeballing the crew from behind your tinted glasses, watching as Murph is hovering a lot differently than he normally is. That’s interesting… 

Your suspicions are justified as you watch Y/N walk past him in a hurry, and his entire body lights up as he turns into her, resting his hand quickly on her lower waist as she giggles and pulls his hand away. Nail, meet coffin.

Fuck. Yeah. They…

Danny was right. They definitely slept together. You can see it in their body language. God damnit. 

But, what the hell are you gonna say? You have no dog in that fight. You think about asking her about it, being transparent in the matter, now knowing that she knows you slept with Isla. You truly think about it as you slip your guitar strap over your head and hand it back to your tech, watching her intently from across the large room as she does her duties. 

“Hey, man. C’mere a second,” you hear Sam’s hushed voice in your ear. You’re snapped from your thoughts as you follow behind him, wondering what the hell he needs to talk about. He turns to make sure you’re behind him and you flash him a puzzled look, so he lifts his hand up and nods for you to just follow.

You follow him to the side doors and outside, watching as he stands with his back against the wall of the building. He fishes his hand in his pocket and pulls out his smokes, lighting one and inhaling a puff more quickly than he usually would.  You close in on him, his eyes working to search around to make sure you’re alone. He looks a bit anxious as he offers you a hit.  

“What’s up?” you ask him, your heart rate picking up a little as you lift your sunglasses to your head. His face is contorted and panicked, something you rarely see out of him, especially right before a show. “You alright?”

His smoke blows quickly from in front of his face as you inhale some yourself. “Yeah, ahh, no… not really? Need your advice again, I think… Remember when I busted into your room that night drunk off my ass and chattering on about… ya know….”

You nod slowly, recounting the night all too well. “I remember.” 

He clenches his jaw together as his eyes continue to scan. “It’s gotten worse, man. I dunno, Lyla is just… urgh, she’s grating on my nerves. I don’t know what it is lately, but it’s like we’re suddenly two completely different people. We argue a lot, we never agree on anything… She's one person with me, and a complete other in front of everyone else. She makes me feel so guilty, man. Wants to settle down and start a family and shit when that was the first thing we talked about when we got together, that I can’t promise that stuff right now. She makes me resent myself, our careers, being with you guys… I get no support whatsoever, anymore. And it always feels like she’s hiding something from me. Completely different wavelengths. And it’s like I don’t even wanna be around her… I swear I’ve kinda almost lost…”

“Lost all attraction to her?” you finish for him.

He nods. “Yeah. Exactly. Isn’t that awful of me? Like why did this happen out of nowhere?”

You ponder his question, sympathizing with him more than he even knows. “It probably didn’t come out of nowhere, Sam. It’s probably been festering for a while.” You eye him as you pass his cigarette back. 

He shuffles his feet around as the wind picks up. “Is this how you feel with Isla?” he mumbles.

“Yeah, kinda, but worse. Like, way, way worse. And I kinda fucked it up even more last night…” you admit, suddenly feeling like you had to tell somebody.

“Oh no, what did you do?”

You swallow harshly, the memories of your lips all over her body last night now making you feel sick all over again. You look back up to him with eager, telling eyes. 

“No, Jake. You didn’t. You slept with her? After all–”

“Yeah, Sam, fuck. I did. It was a complete moment of weakness. I swear, I don’t know what it is about her, but she lures me back in every single fucking time, and I hate it. I swear, I hate it. I hate myself for it. But it happened, and I regret everything about it. And then Y/N fucking had to walk into my room this morning and see Isla half fucking naked…”

“Ohhhh my god, no!” Sam yells with a little bit of a smile on his face, his hand shooting up to cover his mouth. “You’re kidding me, wow.”

“Yeah. Yeah, laugh all you want. I royally fucked everything up so horribly I don’t even know what to do with myself,” you wave a hand in his face as you physically feel the pressure on your shoulders. 

“Damn,” he finally relents, “You are worse off than I am. Sorry.”

You take a deep breath, shaking away the negative thoughts and feelings. “S’alright, I guess.”

“You ever think that Ly and Isla are like, master conspirators but also just like… are trying to lock us down or something?” he asks, his question actually throwing you for a loop. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, running the dead cigarette butt along the concrete to extinguish it. 

“I don’t know. Since we’ve been on this tour, don’t you feel like things have changed with those two? I mean they’ve been best friends since they could walk, and everything with you and Isla back home, now she is acting almost just the same? Doesn’t it feel a little bit strange to you? Almost like they plan on making sure of the fact that they’re going to be here for the long haul?” he says. The thought hadn’t really crossed your mind, much, but now that he mentions it… 

Sam always has had a way with seeing the end results of a situation before they even play out, picking up on people’s intentions before they even portray them. It kind of all makes sense, though. The two of them planning Isla’s trip here behind your backs, both of them being extremely needy but ignorant to the fact that you and Sam are inherently becoming more and more unhappy, not caring one bit about the state of your wants and needs…

It suddenly all makes sense. 

“Have you been being careful, Sam…” you say without an ounce of question in your voice. 

“Yeah. Definitely.”

“Good. I think you might be onto something… some stupid master plan that they have going, something just feels off,” you say, turning your back to the wind. 

“It most definitely does. And honestly, I don’t think Mia has a damn thing to do with it,” he says. 

You shake your head. “Me neither.”

“Are we crazy?” he asks, tilting his head to the side. 

“No. I think we should trust our guts. I already told Isla to get the fuck away from me this morning and go find you guys… Who knows where she even ended up,” you move to make your way back inside. 

“They ran off. Haven’t seen them since,” he says as he follows you. “I do think you should go and talk to Y/N, though.”

You stop in your tracks, hearing him suggest that. “What? Why?”

“Because, stupid, you really like her. And I really like her. And I’m sorry I caused that big dramatic episode back in Ireland. That was uncalled for. But you should go clear it up, she might appreciate you being forward about it.”

The thought alone makes your joints feel stiff, the dread weighing heavily on you. Maybe you should…

“I think she’s cozied up to Murph, now. Not sure she’d even want to be in my presence if she didn’t have to be,” you whisper as you reenter the main part of the building. Your face grows hot at the mention of Murph’s name, still feeling that deep residual jealousy.

“You might be surprised,” he shrugs. “Seems to me like you guys just used other people for retaliation. That alone has to mean something.”

Just like the universe had stepped in when you needed it least, you turn the corner and run right into Y/N. “Oh, fuck, sorry,” you apologize as she nearly drops the pile of towels in her hands. You watch as Sam walks away behind her, mouthing ‘perfect timing!’.

“Don’t worry about it,” she barks as she tries to keep making her way past you. 

“Hey, Y/N,” you stop her, completely unknowing of what the hell you are going to say, but taking Sam’s advice anyway. “Can we… Can I–”

“No, Jake. We can’t. Please leave me alone and let me do my job,” she says with a hint of sadness in her voice, but still enough force that you don’t want to press too much. 

You let her pass, watching her as she saunters quickly down the hall. “I miss you, Y/N…” you say, the echo of your voice reverberating off the walls. She slows her pace, and barely turns. If you’re going to say something at all, you’d better say it now. All in the open.

“I fucked up. I fucked up badly. And I’m sorry. There will never be anything I can say to take any of that back. And I know you probably don’t want a damn thing to do with me anymore, and if that’s so, then I can respect it. But I just wanted you to know that, Y/N. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long, long time. You make me crazy. You make me think about things in a way that I’ve never thought about before.” You take a breath as her eyes meet yours, full of hurt and a sorrow that swallows you right up. You take the opportunity to take a few steps toward her, closing the space between you just a little. 

“When you’re around I feel a happiness that nothing else in the world can give me, or has ever given me. Nothing compares. And that’s the god’s honest truth. I don’t– I don’t let people get to me, Y/N. But ever since you came into my life there was nothing I could do about it. You knocked me down. And I know that you’ve… moved on, from…whatever this was. And, I get that… just know that I am so sorry. And I’ve found clarity, and even if you decide that I’m worthless to you, just know that you always meant more to me than I was ever able to explain.”

The hall is silent as your rambling comes to an abrupt halt, the feelings of defeat and hopefulness simultaneously taking up space in your chest. Her eyes are still deep and hollow, and you watch as her lip quivers just a little as she glances at the gap still between you. Her eyes shoot to the ground as her hand comes up to wipe a stray tear away. “Have a good show, Jake.”

—

A while later, you’re gathered in the jam room strumming on an acoustic as your eyes are focused on nothing at all, the air drying out your corneas so harshly that you have to remind yourself to blink every minute or so. You’ve replayed your conversation, well, speech, to Y/N earlier in the hall probably over a hundred times now, wishing you had said other things, explained a little differently, scooped her up in your arms and told her she is everything you have ever wanted and more… 

But the thoughts become interrupted every few minutes as Josh would yell something particularly loudly or Danny would hit a hi-hat a bit too harshly. 

“Hey,” Josh says as he’s suddenly in your bubble, snapping his fingers in front of your face. “Staring contest with the wall?”

“Yeah, and I’m fucking losing,” you say as you twist the guitar down to rest on the floor. You bring your thumb and fingers up to pinch the bridge of your nose, realizing that you need to start getting your energy up a bit so as not to make a fool of yourself on stage when the time comes. 

“You gonna make it? Want me to slap you across the face a bit? I could ask Ty to, it works for me, sometimes…” he offers with a chuckle. 

You smile, knowing that you quite literally do need a physical slap in the face right now. “Nah, thanks though. Probably just need a stiff shot of a spirit or two.” You pull your battered phone from your pocket to check the time. 

“Mother of god, what happened to your phone?!” Josh yells, pulling it down to inspect it. You give him a tight smile and raise your eyebrows. “Fuck, did things get bad again?” 

You inhale sharply, “Oh yeah. Really bad. Caught her going through my phone and my texts. Sent me over the edge, obviously.”

“Shit,” he breathes. “You break it, or did she?”

“I did. Threw it at the fucking wall,” you laugh at yourself, and the stupid memory.

“She see anything incriminating?” 

“You don’t even wanna know what she fucking saw…” you shake your head, hearing another commotion as Mia, Lyla and Isla all three enter the room. Just the feeling of Isla’s presence sends a cold chill over your body, one that’s full of some of the deepest unexplainable distaste for someone that you have ever felt. “Well, if it isn’t the Three Musketeers!” you announce spitefully, shoving your guitar into its stand. You’re met with Josh’s eyes the size of dinner plates. 

You feel fire rushing through your veins as you realize your body is putting up a protective barrier for itself, a defense so definite that you feel like you are outside of your own body as your legs carry you to stand right in front of Isla.

“Why are you here? I thought I made it very clear that I told you to stay away from me,” you spit, uncaring that you are about to do this in front of everyone.

She scoffs, crossing her arms and avoiding your eyes. “You didn’t mean that, Jake. Come on.”

“Oh, I meant it. I meant every single word. Actually, why are you even here? Why did you follow me to Europe when before I left I told you to please vacate my home, and not contact me?” you bark, feeling a confident fire rising within your chest as the words fell like a venomous poison.

The room is dead silent. 

“Jake, quit messing around, are you really doing this right now?” she avoids your gaze again, and you know that you are getting to her. She’s normally held very true to being able to hold eye contact, even when she’s lying. 

“Yeah. Yes. I’m really doing this right now. We’re all family here, huh? Let’s talk about it in a place where you can’t twist my words, where you can’t manipulate me into thinking I’m crazy, hmm?” you say, earning another scoff from her. “Did I not ask you to please move out, to please not contact me, to please understand that I wanted to end this relationship?”

She rolls her eyes and her tongue around in her mouth as her body language stiffens. “You told me you wanted a break, not to break up…”

“Oh but I did, Isla. You just decided that that break, that I agreed to simply to get you off my back so I could leave my house to get on a fucking plane, mind you… ended exactly when you wanted it to end. Without any conversation with me on said subject. Isn’t that right?” You are reeling, your words are absolutely burning your mouth, but it’s as though you aren’t speaking them. Your conscience is doing the talking for you. “Who said you got to make that decision on your own?”

“Jake, please stop, you don’t mean any of this… we had such a good night last night, please!”

“No, Isla! I won’t stop. This is what I want. This is what I have wanted for a long, long time. Does everyone hear me?!” You motion around yourself. “I don’t want you around me, I don’t want you in my home when I get back to it, I didn’t invite you here, and everything that has happened between us since you got here has been a mistake. A horrible mistake that has done nothing but ruin everything for me. Do I need to be any clearer? Or do I need to write it down for you?” Your chest is heaving with rage, and pride in yourself. 

You glance around to everyone else again, still completely silent as you watch Isla’s face finally drop. “Is that crystal clear to everyone?” You feel all of their heads nodding slowly in agreement. “Good, great. Isla, is that clear?” you ask her directly. 

Finally, finally… she nods. “Yeah, fucking crystal, Jake. I won’t bother you ever again. Good luck fucking up your whole career…” she says as Lyla rips her out of the room by the arm, toting her along. 

“We won’t let him! Because that’s what family does! We support each other!” Sam yells at the both of them as they exit the door. After he speaks, he meets your eyes with the biggest stupid grin on his face, as if he was seeing if you heard him. You hear a snicker from Ty and Josh. 

Alright, maybe this went better than you thought it would.

The tension in the room seems to subside a little as everyone catches their breath. “Mia, do you want to follow them?” you ask as she cozies up to Danny’s side. 

She shakes her head. “No. I’m staying here.” Danny kisses the top of her head and sends you a grateful smile. 

“Good. Okay then.”

Just then you hear someone clear their throat from the doorway, breaking all of your attention away to see Y/N standing there, somewhat awkwardly. 

“Um, sorry. Sam, Danny, they need you back in sound for a second,” she announces, clasping her hands behind her back. You watch as they both stand from their seats to head that way, Mia, Josh and Ty following closely behind to give you the room. 

It’s tense for a second as the two of you stand eye to eye, neither of you daring to speak first. Still riding on your confident high from the seconds prior, you decide to be the one to break the ice. 

“How much did you hear?”

She clears her throat again. “Enough.”

You lick your lips as you sit back down on the couch, replacing your guitar on your lap. “Sorry you had to see all that drama.”

“It’s okay,” she says, slowly making her way toward you and taking the opposite seat on the couch. “I think… I had some time to think about what you said earlier…”

“Oh?” you ask, strumming away. 

“Yeah. I was upset this morning, Jake. I can’t believe you… after everything you told me about her, and your relationship, you slept with her…”

“Yeah, and you just saw I admitted that was a grave mistake. I have absolutely no excuse for that, Y/N. There is nothing I can say to explain my behavior, other than a delicious mix of alcohol, old habits, being too fucking horny to function, and so insanely jealous of seeing you with Murph that I didn’t even care what the hell happened to me next.”

She stays quiet as your tune fills the awkward silence in the air. 

“Just tell me you slept with him, Y/N. Rip off the bandaid, just tell me so I can process it and get it over with,” you beg, your voice flat and blank as you finally make eye contact with her. 

“Yeah, I did. I slept with him,” she says. 

You nod slowly as you begin your staring contest with the wall again, your fingers aimlessly traveling across your familiar strings as your heart plummets to the floor. “Was it for retaliation?”

“No, Jake, I– It wasn’t. I like Ezra, he treats me really well, and we get along–”

“Oh, Ezra, huh?! We’re on a first name basis, now. Interesting…” you say with probably a little too much bite. 

“Oh don’t fucking start, Jake,” she complains. “You have no leg to stand on, right now…” 

You hold up a defensive hand. “I’m not starting, I’m not arguing,” you continue playing, speaking softly. “I understand why you did what you did, and I’m in no place to have an opinion on something that isn’t my business, right sweetheart?”

She nods. “Right.”

Her radio buzzes, announcing ten minutes to stage. You laugh through your nose at the horrible timing, standing as you place your acoustic on the stand again. You turn to her, taking her chin in your hand as you peer deeply into her eyes. “I’ll be here when you realize he can’t give you what I can. When you realize you can’t stay away from me… When you realize everything I ever said was true, and that I’ll grovel at your feet until time stands still if it’ll make you realize the depth of my feelings for you.” You give her flushed face a couple shakes before you release it, stepping toward the doorway. “My wine’s in my bag, baby. Don’t let me down again.”

And with that, you race down the hallway, hearing the sound of your fans screaming your name, ready to give them, and her, the show of a lifetime.

HER POV

If there was any character in the entire world who made you feel as if you wanted to spout obscenities while clawing at their skin, shove their face into the dirt and curse their very name all in hopes that it will all resurface as an emotion of daunting, ferocious admiration, it would be Jake. 

He makes you want to run for the hills and desert life as you know it, not caring for anyone or anything that may be standing in your way as you jump over rocks and roots, swim through deathly waters and starve yourself for days on end if it meant that it would be him waiting for you in those very hills you were running toward. Your relationship has been nothing short of hateful, fervid and passionate, the both of you skirting along the lines of vengeance and intimacy so opposite of one another that the toxicity scares you. Or more, encourages you. 

Maybe it took the both of you performing grand acts of backstabbing for you to realize that maybe your feelings for him were more than you thought… Maybe being with another man has given you the push you needed to come to terms with the fact that no one has ever made you feel like Jake does. No one has ever made your heart beat as quickly, or your thoughts jumble so effortlessly. He’d put a spell on you, digging his claws into your skin while he raked you along for the ride, and you had hardly even noticed how deep the claws were. Until you watched him realize that he’d made a horrible, horrible mistake. 

Being stuck between a rock and a hard place is an understatement; being in a constant state of back-and-forth with Jake had become somewhat of a habit that you’d gotten used to, no matter how disgustingly painful it was to admit. But Murph… Ezra… the unexpected knight in shining armor who’s charm won you over more smoothly than you’d even realized was the part of the story that made it all worth reading. Wholesome, gorgeous, protective and sweet… he’s everything you could ever want in someone if they planned on sticking around for a while. 

But your chest didn’t burn for him the same way.. 

—

Later that night, after you’d obediently made Jake his wine, you join Ty on the side stage to watch the show in peace. You gave him a hefty rundown of everything that has happened the past few days, much the same as you’d given Ruth, without the dirty details, of course. He gave you much of the same advice that she had, telling you that though Jake would never hurt you on purpose, he knows that he made a mistake and would spend the rest of his days paying for it. It hurt to know that he was working to reassure you how real Jake is truly being with you, still. 

“I think I’m really just overwhelmed… I got myself into a mess that I can’t dig myself out of, you know what I mean?” you rant to him as you continued to watch the show. “I’m actually kind of happy the tour is almost over. I managed to get myself tied up in a love triangle that’s truly gotten me nowhere.”

“I dunno about nowhere, I’m not on his team, but Murph must really like you if he’s stuck with you through all this drama…” Ty said. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that Murph didn’t even know about your relationship with Jake. 

“Do you think I made a mistake, though? Do you think I pushed Jake away for ever?” you ask him, feigning on that same rocky edge. 

“No, babe. You didn’t make any mistakes. Do you not know what you’ve done for Jake? Look at him,” Ty motions toward him as he throws his guitar around. “You helped free him. Even if things don’t work out for you, look at him now. Without the burden of Isla tying him down.” You smirk as you do see a different kind of pep in Jake’s step as he performs his most beloved craft. 

Like he can hear your conversation, he looks your way, sending you a sweet smile and a wink as he bites his guitar pick between his front teeth. Even after all this bullshit…

You glance down at Murph, walking around the rail with Josh on his shoulders as he passes out white roses, smiling and interacting with their fans as if they were his own. 

God, you don’t deserve either one of them.

The guilt that has begun to eat you up sends another wave over your entire body, weighing heavily on your shoulders as you fight to ignore it.

Do you have to choose? Do you have to pick which one of these two men is more deserving of your love?

“What if I can’t choose?” you ask Ty over your shoulder, your arms crossed protectively over your chest. 

“Then don’t. You know what I want, and you know what Josh wants, but you have to put your own happiness first, babe. Maybe you should just choose yourself for a while…” he says, lying a sweet hand of comfort on your elbow.

Ty’s words resonate with you as your guilt brings another tear to your eye; you suddenly realize that you haven’t put your own happiness first in quite some time. The real kind. The genuine kind. Come to think of it, you can’t remember the last time you really felt like your absolute self. 

As the show wraps up, you make it a point to disappear on purpose, rushing to clean up the craft table and do your duties under the radar so that you can avoid any more conversation tonight. You retreat back to your room unscathed, ready to take it easy for the rest of the night with a book and a glass of cheap hotel wine. 

As you drown yourself in chapter 3 of a book you couldn’t really even name, you glance at your phone lying next to you on the bed, the screen quiet and black as you wonder why you haven’t received even a single text message tonight. Maybe everyone felt that you needed some space.

You poke at the screen to light it up, only finding your clock and lock screen looking back at you. You pick it up and roll to your back, mindlessly scrolling social media for a few minutes to numb your mind. You cringe a little as you see professional photographs from the show tonight already littering your instagram feed, photos of Jake honestly looking happier than he ever has.

‘You helped free him…’

Even if Ty’s words were only said to make you feel better, you can’t help but notice that even the photos from tonight really reflected it. You don’t want to take responsibility for it, but it felt nice to know that you might have played a part in helping him to finally realize he needed to stand up for himself, once and for all. 

You open the shared playlist, feeling the draw to add a song that said quite the opposite of the ones Ruth had suggested earlier. You scroll around, finally landing on one of your favorites, ‘Give It Time’ by Sierra Ferrell. You hope that he is comfortably laid in his hotel bed much the same as you, and that he gets the notification and feels a little bit better, knowing that you haven’t completely written him off quite yet. You hoped he would catch the drift that you need to step back for a while, reevaluate and recenter, separating yourself from anything and everything for a bit.

You scroll up to the top of the playlist, deciding to play it through from start to finish. “Interlude 1’, let’s revisit you…” you say to yourself as you turn the volume to medium and lie your head down into the pillows, listening to the lyrics of this otherwise very different song. You know this album is one of Jake’s absolute favorites, so maybe it will help to ease the pounding still rolling around in your chest. 

‘Like all good fruit, the balance of life

Is in the ripe and ruin…’

Wow. The ripe and ruin…

As the final sip of wine hits your system, your mind starts to spin and find clarity all at the same time. Suddenly those lyrics started to resonate with you. 

Ripe, fully prepared. Ready to endure, ready to uphold, sufficient in readiness. 

And ruin, devastation. Pure and utter collapse. The slow disintegration of all the mightiness that once was.

“Fuck..” you breathe in a whisper, running a hand over your eyes as the words settled in and felt real. “Was I the ruin all along? Did I ruin it all for myself?” You press pause on the song, suddenly unwilling to listen to any more. 

You flip back over and pick up your phone, bringing up your text thread with Ezra.

You

12:46AM: Hey, can we talk?

You fingers tap nervously as you wait a minute or so before seeing his text bubble appear. 

Ezra Murphy

12:49AM: Sure, want me to come to your room or

You

12:50AM: Let’s meet, there’s a really cozy fireplace in the lobby that I feel like I need to sit by

Ezra Murphy

12:50AM: See you in a few :) 🔥

It’s only minutes later that you watch as Ezra’s eyes poke around the room off of the lobby, searching for you and the fireplace. He’s in an old gray t-shirt with some type of worn off black lettering, and a pair of slouchy flannel sleeping pants. He looks absolutely delectable.

When his eyes finally find you, he smiles a little, waltzing over to sit beside you on the stone bench beside the fire.

“Are you wearing slippers, Ezra?” you ask, glancing down to his feet. 

“It’s 1:00 AM, of course I wasn’t gonna tie my boots back up. Plus, these are lined with fur, and they’re comfy as hell,” he grins as he kicks his sock-clad foot out for you to see. 

You giggle as you pull your knees up to your chest, eyeing him adoringly. This is going to suck…

“Is everything okay, babe?” he finally asks, turning his body toward you. “You’ve had me worried ever since I found you cryin’…”

You take a deep breath, preparing for the rage that you just knew he was going to display. “That’s because I was lying to you, Ezra.”

His eyes grow as his jaw falls open a bit, looking for a response. “Lying about what?”

“I was upset, I am upset. I– egh, I’ve actually kind of been lying to you for a while, now. Well, not lying, just– not divulging the whole truth,” you explain, watching as his eyes search for more answers. 

You turn completely and cross your legs, taking his hands in yours. “Before you got here, Murph, I uh… I was sleeping with Jake…” the words feel hollow as they burn your throat. “We had become kind of serious? In a way, things were like, moving sort of fast, in a good way and… as I’m sure you’ve noticed, he kind of… has had Isla this entire time,” you explain. Murph’s jaw moves sideways a few times as he crunches his eyes closed, shaking his head in confusion. 

“So wait wait wait, he cheated on her with you? I don’t really know the ins and outs of their relationships or anything but… I– that would make sense as to why he’s been a complete jackass to me lately… he was some kind of jealous,  fuck…” he rambles. 

“He has?!”

“Yeah, but, that’s beside the point…” he waves it off, resting his elbows on his knees as he leans forward. “Keep going…” 

“He didn’t necessarily cheat on her with me, he was under the impression that they had been separated for a while before she even came here, they were in an awful relationship, there was a lot of drama that I don’t really wanna get into right now, but. Nonetheless, he failed to divulge that she even existed. So I cut him off, a while before you even came around. Anyways, this morning I decided I would go to their room and drop off coffee and apologize and I found out that they had… ya know… after he’d said that he basically hated the ground she walked on.”

“So you– you used me? To get back at him?” 

“No no, you were a completely separate anomaly to me, Ezra. I’d already distanced myself from him once you came along. But– I just wanted you to know that that happened, and that’s why I was upset this morning, because I found out the hard way that he had slept with her even after telling me he had nothing for her anymore. I was just– a little fucked up over it…”

Murph shakes his head side to side as he huffs out a breath, looking around the room as he puts everything together. 

“Thank you for telling me, Y/N,” he says blankly.

“I should have told you a while ago. And I’m sorry, Murph. He shouldn’t be treating you badly, either,” you concede. 

“That part doesn't bother me too much. I’m used to my employers kind of treating me that way, but. Now I know why he’s had a change of heart. He saw me as a threat.”

“I don’t think you should look at it that way, Ez–”

“But he kicked Miss Isla to the curb…” he says, making you perk up. 

“How do you know that?” you ask.

“I had to escort her to the airport earlier, right before the show. She was a complete mess and wouldn’t even speak to me… word on the street was Jake told her she had to leave.”

You nod, realizing that he’d actually gone through with it this time. He’d actually made arrangements for her to be gone. 

“He really likes you, doesn’t he, Y/N?” he asks, his eyelids heavy as they meet yours in the light of the fire. “Otherwise he wouldn’t have sent her packing, otherwise he wouldn’t have been treating me like dirt…”

“I don’t know, Ezra, maybe. I can’t answer that for him,” you say honestly. “Everything’s just been so fucked up… I realized I was essentially a homewrecker, Isla flew off the handle, Jake was mad at her, I was mad at him… it was all just. A lot. And now I just– wanted to clear the air. With you, with everyone. I think I just need a little while to… ya know. Regroup.” Your heart hurts as you watch his face fall, you really don’t want this. You don’t want things to be this way. And then you remember the lyrics. Like all good fruit… 

“I’m so sorry about all of this, Ezra. I just want you to know that you weren’t some type of rebound or whatever, and I don’t want you to think I used you in retaliation. I was into you… am into you, very much so,” you explain with as much conviction as you can muster. “I hope you can understand where I stand with it all, right now.”

He’s silent for a second as he nods his head. “Thank you for listening to me, and not getting too mad at me, I hope. I’ve never met anyone else like you before, Ezra. You’re so easy, so laid back and sure of yourself. And I really appreciate you making me feel loved while our paths crossed.”

You can tell he’s a little distraught, but at the same time, you’ve got to ignore it. 

“I appreciate you telling me the truth, Y/N, even though I wish you would’ve done it a little sooner,” he smiles a side smirk, making your heart skip a beat. 

“I wish I would have too,” you say quietly, listening as the fire begins to crackle.

“So, what do you want?” he finally asks, his eyes full of false hope.

“I want– I think I just need to love myself for a little bit. Step back. I’m very much eaten up with guilt and strange taste right now, and I don’t want to put those vibes onto anyone else, if that makes sense,” you try your best to explain. “My mind is in so many places that I don’t think I can even think straight if I wanted to.”

He nods slowly, running a hand through his dark hair. “I get that. I could feel the tension within them, I understand.” He sends you a reassuring smile as he places a hand on your knee. “You were really good while you lasted, baby. Wish things could have gone a little differently. Don’t ever forget that,” he says. 

“I want to still stay friends, Ezra. Just because I’m distancing myself doesn’t mean we have to completely write each other off,” you laugh. “You brighten my days too much for me to forget about you.”

He stifles a laugh through his nose. “So, friends?” he asks, holding a hand out. 

“Yes. Friends. Please, I still need you to have my back,” you say with a joking tone.

“That won’t ever change, babe,” he says, standing the both of you up as you begin to walk to the elevator. You breathe a heavy sigh of relief as you stand outside the elevator doors, waiting for them to open so you can see him off. 

“Forgot you’re on the ground floor,” he says. “See you bright and early?”

You give him a quick salute. “Bright and early.” 

“Night, babe,” he says quietly, and you watch as the elevator doors close across the vision of his face. 

Back in your room, you tap your phone again, realizing that a good night’s sleep isn’t going to find you tonight. Oh well, you presume… a nap in your downtime will definitely be in the cards. Just as you’re getting comfortable in your puffy sheets, your phone buzzes with the first notification you’ve gotten all night. 

‘Jake has added a song to the shared playlist: 🐥’

Oh my god… he saw it. 

You unlock your phone and scroll to the bottom, seeing that he had added a song that you hadn’t heard in many years, one that reminds you of your high school years, going to your first festivals and discovering a new type of music that you’d yet to delve into.  ‘I Will Wait’ by Mumford and Sons. 

Of course. Of course he will wait. 

You feel a shudder of emotions that you can’t quite comprehend, knowing that despite it all, he still is sticking to his guns. 

…So you decide to stick to yours. 

You close the playlist, pulling up the itinerary for the remainder of the tour and pinning in certain places you want to visit, and things you want to see. Places you will most likely be visiting alone. Tears prickle at your eyes as you remember all the sweet things Jake had done for you, all the things that he’d said, all the love that you’d made… so for the second time today, you let yourself feel it. Let yourself bask in the sadness so that tomorrow, hopefully, you’ll have emptied all the tears you had left, leaving absolutely none left to cry.

—

December 7

Departing Lisbon, Portugal

You know those redemption scenes at the end of romcom movies where the main character is walking around, looking at all of their ex friends, ex foes, and exes, giving them all reassuring smiles and small waves while the sun shines above them, and upbeat pop music plays in the background?

That’s how the days following your conversation with Murph had gone. Exactly like that. The animosity that had been sewing itself into the fibers of everyone’s beings had suddenly up and left, being replaced with something more joyful than you could have anticipated. 

Everyone felt a new air of peace surrounding the last few shows, and you spent your time burying yourself in your work, instead of worrying about what kind of argument was right around the corner. 

Jake treated you like a friend and coworker, offering nothing more but cheerful ‘good mornings’ and ‘goodnights’, giving you space to cordially speak to him first, and avoiding adding any more songs to the playlist. Ezra acted like nothing at all had happened, and he even caught you in a hallway once, telling you that Jake had come to him and apologized for treating him so badly.

It truly seemed as though everyone had turned a new leaf. 

As you walk through the airport parking lot ready to catch the flight back home to Nashville, you suddenly feel Mia at your side. 

“Hey!” she chirps, the wind blowing her hair across her face. 

“Hey!” you respond with just as much glee. You hadn’t really gotten a chance to speak with Mia one on one since the day that Lyla and Isla left, you being left with the feeling that maybe she still held some distaste for you. 

“Hey listen uh, I was just wondering if you’d want to get some coffee with me… one day, when we get back home? There’s this new little shop around the corner from mine and Danny’s and I really wanna try it out, I’ve heard excellent things,” she says, catching you completely off guard. 

“Oh! Uh, yeah, sure! That sounds really fun, actually,” you say, not willing to turn her down in any way. 

“Great! Cool!” she replies as you both walk, a strange silence falling between you. “Hey um, I just… wanted you to know that I’m really sorry about how everything went down, with Isla and everything. I never really liked her, if I’m being honest, and… I just don’t want you to think that I’m that kind of person, too.”

Oh. Ohhhhh.

“Oh, no, Mia, you don’t have to apologize. Everything just got so fucked up and confusing and stupid, I think we were all just making really bad decisions and things just snowballed…”

“I agree. Still doesn’t make how she treated you any more right. How we all treated you. I should have told you about their master plan to get Isla here the minute they got her plane ticket. Poor Jake. I know now that she was so manipulative of him, and that is on me. I should have warned you both. I never even told Danny,” she admits, letting her face fall. 

“Seems like she manipulated more than just Jake then, huh?” you ask, suddenly making sense of it all. 

“Yeah, I think you’re right. Lyla is… she’s gone too, actually,” she says with a little bit of melancholy in her voice. “Broke things off with Sam. But I think he is like, really okay with it,” she snaps back into a laugh. 

“Is she?!” you squeal. “Wow, I guess I hadn’t even bothered to notice…”

“How things have changed, huh?” she asks as she opens the doors for you. “Anyways, I’ll see you on the plane. And I’ll text you one day later this week?”

“Yeah, sounds great. Thanks for chatting with me, Mia,” you say. 

“Sure thing, babe,” she says with a wink, darting off to find Danny and the rest. 

JAKE POV

“Are you positive that’s her seat?” you ask Paul quietly from the jetbridge, keeping an eye on her as you see her walking ten or so people back from you.

“Positive,” he says with a bit of sarcasm.

“Thank you. Good man,” you reply as you pat his shoulder, rushing ahead through the hordes of people boarding the plane ahead of you. 

You rush to find her seat, eyeing the rows as you finally find it. You shove your hand in your pocket, gripping the crisp hundred to make sure it’s still there, ready to be used just in case this goes south. There’s a middle aged man sitting in the seat beside hers, already kicked back comfortably with his headphones on. You tap his shoulder, getting his attention as he pulls his music away. 

“Hey, sorry to disturb you, but would you be interested in exchanging seats with me?” you ask with a little bit of haste in your voice. 

The man scoffs as he glances to his left. “It’s a window seat, buddy. Don’t think so,” he replies, pulling his headphones back up. 

“Please, sir… I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t really need to sit here,” you plead, hoping he can hear the urgency in your voice. But yet again, he meets you with nothing.

“Would this change your mind?” you ask, pulling out the hundred from your pocket and straightening it hard in his face. “Might get you a few cocktails at your layover… plus, I’d be switching you for first class.” You raise and lower your eyebrows a few times as you suck your lip in, hoping the last ditch effort will take effect. 

The man pauses and pulls his music away again. “First class? Why didn’t you say so?” he boasts, slapping his hand across the bill in your grasp as he stands and begins gathering his carry-on.

“Thank you, thank you,” you reply as you let him step by you, tossing your own backpack into the seat as you shake his hand. “Have a nice rest of your day, sir.”

“Sure thing,” he replies, and you know he was busy trying to figure out why you just paid him to take your first class seat. You plop into the uncomfortable chair, crossing your hands together as your elbows lie on the rests, waiting for her to approach the row. 

Your eyes close on their own accord as you pull your sunglasses back down, huffing a sigh of relief that phase one of your plan has officially commenced. Finally you feel her presence, gorgeous as ever as she is lost in her own little world, listening to her music and maneuvering her things between the tight rows of seats. She finally sits down beside you, completely unaware that it’s actually you sitting there. You smirk as she drops her bag, out of breath and flustered as she makes herself comfortable. How she doesn’t even clock you, you don’t know.

Just as she finally gets situated, her elbow knocks into yours, so you knock it back. “Excu– Jake?! What the hell are you– why are you sitting here? I thought they got you first class on this trip…” 

You smile with all of your teeth. “They did? You’re kidding, that explains why literally everyone else isn’t here…shit,” you playfully look around, hitting yourself in the head as if you hadn’t even realized. 

“Cut it, Jake. How did you mix up your own seat?!” she asks, wiping a few flyaways from her face. The smell of her perfume almost envelops you, sweet and sultry as you breathe her in for the first time in way too many days. 

“I didn’t mix it up. I just don’t like fucking with tradition,” you reply, crossing one leg over the other as you relax comfortably back into your seat. 

“Tradition?” she asks, her voice deflated as she rolls her eyes. 

“Yes. Tradition. We came to Europe on a plane side by side, we should leave Europe on a plane side by side. We shouldn’t fuck with it, might be bad luck,” you say cheekily. 

She smiles, but only a little bit. “Jake, this entire trip was bad luck, honestly…” 

You take a deep breath in agreement. “Touche, okay, but what if this plane ride home reverses that, and makes it good luck?” you ramble, honestly just saying words at this point. Anything to make her smile again. Make her cheeks turn that perfect shade of blush again… “We can’t discount fate, Y/N. It’d be foolish to do so. And neither you, nor I, are foolish.”

She bites her teeth together, stretching her neck. “You’re really crazy, you know that?” she finally smiles wholly. 

There she is.

You rustle with your watch hanging on your wrist, noticing it’s almost time for takeoff. “I know. But can you blame me?”

She shakes her head. “No, no I really can’t, after getting to know you and all your baggage…”

“Ohhhh! My baggage, huh?” you cross your legs again. “Well I’m here to tell you babe, that the only baggage I am bringing home is this backpack. And my suitcases. And the thousands of dollars worth of guitars and gear. But that’s it! That’s all this time!” 

Finally, she laughs. A real laugh. “Again, you’re really stupid. And honestly, why should I even believe you?” she counters. “Seems as though our relationship was solely based on lies from the get-go, hm?” Her voice had fallen a bit toward the end there, and you swear you felt a dagger shoot through your chest for the thousandth time in the past month. Twisting and turning itself as you realize the guilt is never going to go away. 

Her eyes meet yours with a heaviness, almost as if she’s asking you to pour your heart out, one more good time. After all, the morning she came to your room with three coffees seemed as if it was going to be full of good intention, but you just never gave her the chance to say her piece.

“I deserve that,” you nod. You feel the plane begin to shake as it prepares to take off, the pilot coming over the loudspeaker to announce departure. The two of you look out the window as the early morning sun begins to rise over the city, the tall buildings casting long shadows that look as if they reach for miles. You feel her shoulder press against yours as the plane begins to rush down the runway, finally taking off to make its way above the clouds.

You rise higher and higher in the sky, the bottomless pit sensation making your stomach fall as you ascend. When the plane finally evens out and your vertigo subsides, you notice her eyes still trained on the scenery outside. “Come on, look how gorgeous…” you suggest, urging her to lean closer and get a better view of what’s now below you.

She hesitantly leans again, the smell of her shampoo prevalent in her still-damp hair as she reaches across you. You breathe it in, memorize it, savor it as you know that this flight could be the very last time you ever feel her closeness. You feel her sigh as you both take it all in, leaving the place that saw both the downfall and redemption of one of the most convoluted experiences of your life thus far.

“It’s truly beautiful there, isn’t it?” she mutters, almost too quietly to hear. 

“Yeah, it really is…” you agree as you feel her relax back in her seat again, breathing a sigh of relief as the plane hits a little bit of turbulence. 

You decide to take the opportunity to speak again during this moment of shared adoration, hoping that the peacefulness of being miles in the sky mixes well with the eagerness you both have to finally get home again. 

“Y/N, I’m gonna say something, and you don’t have to believe me, fuck, you don’t even have to listen. And I know I probably sound like a broken record at this point, but… from the bottom of my heart, I want you to know that it’s the god’s honest truth. All of it.” You swallow as your words sound sheepish, quiet in the grand scheme of things when all you want to do is yell from the rooftops if it’d mean she’d listen. “Okay?”

“Oh–Okay…” she spouts, turning a little to show her attention. Her hands are gripping each other tightly, wringing against themselves as she knows she can’t get up and walk away from this. 

“I know I lied to you, held out on the absolute truth from the very beginning. That wasn’t me, Y/N, it never was me. I’d lived in this… this bubble for a really long time. Even though I thought I was happy, I knew deep down that I wasn’t, and it was only getting worse as time went on. I became the worst version of myself, Isla did too. I think in some weird, fucked up way, we brought the worst out in each other. The toxicity. And hers came from a place of possession, mine came from a place of my inability to communicate with her, I guess. Either way, I know I’ve told you the whole story a hundred times, but it took this trip for me to realize how much more me I finally felt when I boarded that plane to leave that day. And how much more me I felt when we started talking. Fuck, it was like I was physically finally far enough away from my demons that the clouds kind of dissipated, I don’t know.” 

You finally make a bit of eye contact with her, and she gives you a small smile, placing her hand on your arm as she knows this is a difficult topic. Either way, you persevere. 

“It hurts to admit this, and I’m not sure that I have ever really said it out loud, but… I’m fully aware of the fact that I was in somewhat of an emotionally manipulative relationship, and I allowed myself to fall victim to it, for everyone around me to fall victim to it. I know that I’m stronger than that. Did I have my faults? Of course, I’m not blind to that realization, either. But when you fall into that routine, it sort of becomes you, I guess. And I know for a fact that the decisions I’ve made in the past few weeks are just the ghosts of that. The lingering feelings, the bullshit I was too stupid to see past.” Your voice is grated as you give her your speech, one that you know you would give a thousand times if it would give you her forgiveness. Her hand flits up underneath her chin as she rests it, giving you her full attention now, her face riddled with concern and sympathy. 

“Sorry, I can shut up if you want me to, babe,” you laugh. 

“No no, go on, please…” she says, reaching to take your hand in her grasp. Her palms, so warm and inviting as she gives your fingertips a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay.”

You huff an exhale. “Y/N, I am not kidding you in the least when I tell you that you helped pull me from that place. Helped me realize so much. You put a mirror in front of my face that gave me the courage to finally extract myself from that situation. You–You made me feel the blood in my veins again, made me feel that urge in the pit of my stomach to want again, in every sense of the word. Hell, you can ask Josh, I’ve written four songs just on this trip alone,” you jest. 

“Have you really?!” she asks, her tone warm as her lips part into the most perfect smile. 

“Yeah,” you laugh, running your free hand over your mouth. “We’ll see if they go anywhere. But anyway…” 

You sit on your thoughts for another few seconds, letting them simmer as your throat continues to tighten. But it feels cathartic in a way, spilling your emotions. It's always been so easy to share with her. 

“I hate the way things ended between you and I, and I can’t take back the decisions that I made and the actions that followed them, and I’ll never be able to tell you how sorry I am. I just wanted you to know that you’ve been the biggest light in my life for a while now, and you gave me the strength to get my dignity back. And I can’t thank you enough for that.” You squeeze her hand again as you see the tears piling up in her eyes. “Just your presence has been enough to make me appreciate my life again. Appreciate the things in front of me, make me lust for them again. And I know that when we get home, we might not ever talk again, you’ll probably move on and tour with someone else, but just know I hold no animosity toward you, and I hope that we can stay friends.”

On your last word, a single tear finally falls on her cheek, a clear indication that her emotions are all over the place, too. 

“Please don’t cry, Y/N,” you whisper as you run your thumb along her tear line to catch the next one, threatening to fall just like the first. “You’re too pretty to cry.”

She pulls away and wipes them herself, fanning her face as she sniffles them away. “God, Jake, you know… you’re so easy to hate.”

Her words take your breath; all the revelations and admissions you just shared seemingly for nothing as she continues to clear her tears away. You open your mouth to speak, but she cuts you off. 

“So easy to hate, but so, so fucking easy to love, too.”

You shake your head in confusion, your heart suddenly ripping itself from your ribcage. “What do you mean?” you mumble, barely audibly.

She swallows as she regains her composure, tucking her hair behind her ear as she leans her head back onto the headrest, eyeing you deeply. 

“I didn’t realize, at first, how much I really felt for you. How much emotion I wasn’t even letting myself feel, because I didn’t even know it was there. While we were sleeping together, and you were being so fucking sweet to me, it was so perfect, and so nice. I guess I just ignored it because I’d never really been treated that genuinely before. Never had someone pursue me so consistently and with so much momentum. But now I know, after everything, it was there. I felt it, and it was real. Even if I tried to ignore it, I felt something really, really intense with you.”

Felt. She felt that way. 

You brush away another tear, mirroring her and lying your head back on your headrest, too… your faces only within inches of one another. 

“Everything felt like a whirlwind, you know? It happened fast, and there were so many vengeful actions, even if we didn’t wanna call them that. We were both fucking stupid, you know?” she continues.

You nod. “Yeah. We were. But I guess I’m glad to know you felt the same way I did, even if we were both too stubborn to really admit it.” 

“You admitted it to me just fine, Jake. I was the one hiding from it all. And now I understand, I see that everything you said came from a place of authenticity, and I’m really sorry you had to go through all of that with Isla. That’s all so fucked up…”

You sigh and continue to brush at her cheek, wishing that things could have gone so differently, but ready to accept the fact that nothing in life worth fighting for is ever easy. And if this was the fight you’d have to be entangled in to get her back, so be it. 

“It’s alright. She’s out of the house now. Lyla texted me a couple days ago and said they’d found an apartment and would ‘No longer be a burden’ to me and Sam. Whatever. I’m just glad to have my home back to myself,” you reply, noticing you’re antsy to get home and rot on your couch in peace. 

Y/N smiles, turning her face to press a quick and sweet kiss to your thumb, the action nearly knocking the breath from your lungs. “That’s good. I’m proud of you, Jake. It took a lot of courage to stand up to her like that,” she says.

“Yeah… no more shackles,” you smile, grabbing her chin between your fingers. The two of you stay caught up in this position for a while, neither of you saying much else while you stare into each other’s eyes, sharing sweet wordless smiles every so often that make you feel even more at peace than you were before. 

It’s all out now, everything you wanted to say now existing in the air between you instead of bottled up in your chests. You know nothing is in your hands, anymore. You’re well aware that the universe has to take charge and draw out the map for your next journey. You know where you want it to lead, though, you know where you want to end up. But as of late you’ve learned to let things take their course, because if you try to force destiny before it’s ready, it will swallow you like quicksand, leaving nothing behind in its wake but broken hearts and words left unsaid. 

“Friends, Y/N?” you ask, finally breaking the stare. 

She takes your hand again, interlacing your fingers together as you feel the threat of sleep taking over. 

“Yeah, Jake. Really good friends.”

—

Late September 2024, Nine Months Later

Nashville, TN

HER POV

“I’m positive, Ruth. Go with the green one with the low neckline. It’s so flattering on your collarbones and he will go crazy,” you try and convince your friend as she works to pick an outfit for her blind date. 

“How do you know that, bitch? I don’t even know what this man looks like, let alone that he will think my collarbones are flattering!” she barks, tossing another outfit onto the bed in front of her. “Give me a whole ass break.”

“What’s got your panties in a bunch? Are you really this nervous? You go on dates like this all the time!” you argue, raising your voice. 

“Yes, I’m nervous, okay? My coworker said that me and this guy are like two peas in a pod and she could see me marrying him. Do you know how insane that sounds, Y/N?! I can’t marry someone, ew!” she responds as she slips out of the frame, still frazzled as she throws on another dress. “Ugh, this looks ugly, too. That’s it, I’m not going. I’m texting her right now and canceling–”

“The fuck you are, Ruth!” you yell as she picks the phone up and brings the screen close to her face. “You’re going on this date, and you’re wearing the gree– oh my god. Oh my god?” you say suddenly, your heart falling to your stomach as you sit back down on your bed. “Holy shit holy shit holy shit.”

“What? What?!” Ruth asks. “What’s wrong?”

You’re breathless as you stare at your screen in disbelief, your jaw hanging slack as you fight to find the words. 

“Y/N!!! Answer me!” Ruth shouts.

“Oh, sorry sorry, um. Jake just… just added a song to our playlist…”

“What?! Jake??? Like Jake, Jake? How long has it been since you talked to him?” she asks, panic written all over her face. 

“Since that day at the airport when we got home from Europe, almost nine months ago…” you say, your voice void of any emotion as you try your hardest to make sure you aren’t dreaming. “We–we decided to cut ties… just be friends…”

“Oh my fuck, Y/N, this is huge. Right? What song is it? What did he add?”

“It’s called Reasons For Waiting? By Jethro Tull? I’ve never heard of this… OH my god Ruth he texted. Oh my god what do I do help me,” you ramble, your heartrate picking up speed as you feel your hands grow sweaty from the singular notification buzz.

“Read the text, you idiot! And read it out loud!” she commands, tilting back her bottle of Twisted Tea she had been pregaming on. 

“Okay okay,” you say, clicking away from the facetime and over to your texts, your hands shaking as you click on the name you hadn’t read in months, though you thought about every single day. 

Jake

6:27PM: Hey stranger, hope you’re well. Was just hanging out and listening to music and some Alt-J came on, made me think of you. 

6:28PM: I went and saw that I still have our playlist saved, and noticed the last song I added was I Will Wait, and I’m sure you saw I added another song just now. I know you weren’t there for it, but during our last tour, this song played to the crowd every night right before we came on stage. It was always one of our favorites, especially mine. Kind of hits home in a lot of ways, and it sort of became the song that connected all of us to our fans, in a way. Anyway, I thought it would be a nice follow up to the one before it, so give it a listen if you don’t know it already. Let me know how you like it 🙂

“Oh my fucking god, babe. Go play it so I can hear too,” she says, and you click play on the song, still holding every ounce of the breath left in your lungs. The two of you listen to the song play out, paying special attention to the words and how the lyrics connect. At the song’s close, your hand flies up over your mouth as you fight the tears, the song already feeling familiar as your faint memories of hearing the guys sing or play it while you were in Europe last year come falling back.

“I remember it, Ruth. They played it all the time, Josh would hum it, Jake would play parts of it on his acoustic… I… What do I even do with this?” you say, your throat constricting with old memories. 

“Y/N, sweetie, this was an invitation. He reached out, finally… right?” Ruth says with a newfound softness in her voice. “You might not have noticed it, but you bring up Jake every single day, in one way or another, did you know that?”

“I do?”

“Yes. You do. You miss him, Y/N, and this was quite literally him saying he misses you, too. He had his reasons for waiting for you, and he has waited, it looks like. For a long time. Text him back.”

“No!” you shout, feeling a fear like no other. “I can’t! What will I even say?! It’s been almost a year, I–”

“Tell him you liked the song. Tell him you loved it, and that you remember hearing it. He’s just looking for contact, Y/N. Extending an olive branch. Maybe all this time apart is just what you needed,” she says, slipping back into the green dress you decided on earlier. “Does he still live in the same place?”

“I don’t know, how would I know?!” you ask, still panicked and teary. 

“Ask him, strike up conversation. You can do it, Y/N,” Ruth urges as she finishes getting dressed and putting her heels on. “I love you, but I have to go, I’m already late for my Uber. But I want screenshots of the texts, and updates on everything, okay?”

You take a deep breath, letting the emotions level out. “Okay. Okay yeah. I’ll text him back.”

“Alright. Love you, good luck and godspeed my bitch,” Ruth salutes as she hangs up the phone, leaving you staring at the text thread with Jake. You huff a sigh, trying to hype yourself up to type the text you’ve been wanting to type for nine months. 

You

6:39PM: Hey 😌 I remember that song well, actually. But I will admit, it sounded better coming from your acoustic

His text bubble pops up almost immediately, as if he was waiting for your reply. 

Jake

6:40PM: I don’t know about all that, now, but I appreciate the compliment

You

6:41PM: How are you? Overseas again?

Jake

6:42PM: I’m well, thanks… And no, we just got back from a leg in Australia and New Zealand, actually. Enjoying being back home

You:

6:43PM: Wow, I bet that was amazing. And home is…

Jake

6:43PM: …still Nashville, yes

6:44PM: Actually just put the finishing touches on my back porch fire pit. 

6:44PM: *attachment* 

The photo showed what looked to be his yard, a few wooden benches surrounding a metal fire pit with an already roaring fire. Jake’s feet were propped up on the pavers that bordered it, holding up a bottle of a beer you’d never seen before.

You

6:45PM: That looks so nice!

6:46PM: Though, I did spy that entire bag of unopened marshmallows sitting beside you…

Jake

6:46PM: I’m about to tear into them now. But, I don’t think I can eat them all on my own

You

6:47PM: I think I know someone who would be willing to help you put a dent in them at least, if you needed assistance…

Your heart pounds as you watch his text bubble fly up, immediately regretting inviting yourself over to his house after so long of having no contact at all. What the fuck, Y/N? He could have someone coming over already, he could have a completely new life, now. Regret, abort, unsend!

Jake

6:49PM: I most definitely need assistance. I’ll drop you a pin

6:49PM: Drive safe, see you soon 😉

His forwardness ignites a feeling in your stomach that you haven’t felt in a long while as you screenshot the texts, sending them straight to Ruth. You toss your phone onto your bed, and rush back to your closet to find the perfect outfit to go and see Jake again, for what would hopefully be the first of many bonfire dates to come. 

JAKE POV

Rushing to tidy up your place would be an understatement; you truly hadn’t planned on the conversation with Y/N going so well, so when she replied that she was almost there, you felt a wave of excitement that could only be cured by finally seeing her in the flesh again. 

Your hands are jittery, your palms are sweaty, and the anxiety in your core has you reeling, but you know it's for good reason. She’s really coming, she’s really almost here…

You throw another log onto the fire as you hear tires in your driveway, just as the sun is starting to set lower in the sky. You brush yourself off as you walk through your house, taking a second to check your appearance in the mirror as you pass by it. You crack the door open to find her already walking up the steps to your front porch, dressed in the prettiest yellow sundress you’re positive you’ve ever seen. Your breath escapes your lungs as she looks at you, gorgeous and beaming as ever. 

“Hey there,” you manage to get out as your heart pounds, “Thanks for coming.”

Her cheeks blush that perfect pink that you always loved so much as you grab her up in a little hug, her arms pulling you in tighter as you finally make contact. Her body still feels so good, so perfect as you feel your skin magnetically connect to hers. You both pull away, a flush of nerves overtaking the both of you after not having seen each other for so long. You make your way inside and back out to the fire. “Of course, how could I turn down free marshmallows?”

You guide her to the other empty seat and watch as she tucks her dress beneath her, sitting back comfortably. You grab a beer from the box beside you, cracking it open and handing it off to her. “Oh, so it was the marshmallows that got you here. If I would have known that, I would have sent you that photo months ago…” you quip, taking a sip from your beer. 

“Thought you were still traveling the world months ago?” she asks, her voice buttery soft as her lips connect with the bottle.

“I was,” you laugh, leaning back in your seat, as well. 

“Australia, huh? How was that?”

“Fucking amazing,” you say. “We love it there. Feels like a whole other world. But I will say it feels good to be back here, back on my turf, in my home. Finally, my home,” you say, trying to insinuate that you were, in fact, still single.

“You never let Isla come back?” she presses, getting straight to the point. 

You shake your head with furiosity. “Hell no. No. We haven’t spoken.”

“Good for you, Jake,” she says, her voice still absolutely dripping with honey as you take a second to admire her in the dimming sunlight. The fire is casting bright beams onto her face and exposed chest, and you have to remind yourself that this is just a cordial visit. Between friends. Just catching up.

You clear your throat. “And you…? Find another super cool band to run for?” 

She smiles as she shakes her head. “No, I traveled a lot, though. Took some time, went out West, visited Ruth and some family… I actually did the paperwork today to make myself available to tour again. Think I’m ready to get back out there.” She cocks an eyebrow as she crosses her legs, taking another long drag of her drink. 

You’re almost speechless as you watch her move; somehow she seems so much more sure of herself, now… so confident and comfortable in her own skin. Not that she wasn’t before, but something has switched. 

“Is that right?” you say, leaving the question open-ended to be discussed another time. “Have you uh, have you talked to Murph?” 

You’d contemplated not touching on the subject at all, but you figured there is no better time than the present to go ahead and rip off the bandaid, if there was to be one. 

She smiles as she bobs her head up and down. “Yep, have the wedding invitation hanging on my fridge. You going?”

Your heart warms at the thought, knowing that just nine short months ago, the three of you were caught up in something you were sure you’d never pull yourself from. But now, as time has held hands with destiny again, you find yourselves in a whole different dimension. 

“Of course I’m going!” you reply. “It’s our turn to take care of him while he gets too damn drunk to function. He and I uh, actually got kind of close on this last leg, we’re actually more alike than I thought we were,” you explain, pulling open the bag of marshmallows. 

“Wow!” she says. “And to think…”

“I know. Hindsight is 20/20. We talked it out, got over it. You know he got back with his ex a couple of months after we got home from Europe… she showed up on his doorstep saying everything was a mistake, how much she missed him and all that. Next thing we knew we were going to their housewarming party, and he was sending Danny photos of rings.” 

“You’re kidding me…” she says as you watch an overwhelming expression of sweetness and longing cover her face, her hand clutching at her heart as her lips pout. 

“Yep. We helped him decide on one. Got her a rock, too. He was so happy, Y/N. You know how he’s already so happy-go-lucky… he’s like a big ball of laughter and elation, now. Man’s head over heels. I like her, too. Sweet girl that gets those big googly eyes when she’s around him,” you say, internally laughing at the whole situation and how things have ended up. 

“That’s so good, Jake. I’m actually really, so very happy for him,” she says as she stares into the fire, going silent for a few seconds. You lift a marshmallow from the bag and toss it at her face, breaking her from her trance into the flames. “Hey!!” she squeals, picking it off her lap to throw back at you. 

“You mean you’re not jealous?!” you ask with faux surprise. 

“Of course I’m not jealous,” she says, again showing her maturity. She leans over and dips her hand deep into the bag of marshmallows on your lap, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d bargain that she left her hand there for a second longer than she needed to as her fingertips graze your inner thigh through the bag. She pulls one out, taking a big bite of it. “But I probably will need a date to the wedding, though… if you have any ideas of anyone I could ask…” 

You feel your lips curl up into a cheeky grin, hoping, praying that she means what you think she does. 

“Funny, I was gonna go stag, but… if you’d like some arm candy, I think I could like, hold your purse for you,” you tease, taking a bite of a marshmallow yourself as your eyes dig into hers. 

“You might want to start taking some dancing lessons now, Jake. You’ve got three months to learn how to do the Electric Slide and the Wobble,” she quips, shoving your shoulder. You take the opportunity to grip the handle of her chair, scooting her toward you so that your shoulders touch. 

You lean in close to her, pulling a bit of hair behind her ear. “The only dancing I’ll be doing is slow dancing, with my wedding date…”

You feel her swallow hard at your bold words and close proximity, but you hold true to it. To it all. It’s always been true. 

You place a firm hand on the back of her neck, expecting her to pull away, but she doesn’t. She moves in even closer, brushing her lips across yours as you just barely breathe in the essence of the sugar still on them. 

Her eyes flash up to yours as you hear her breath catch, and you know the fact that she isn’t pulling away is very telling. “Do you want to stay for dinner, Y/N?” you breathe.

“You mean these marshmallows aren’t dinner?” she asks, her cuteness almost too much as you can’t hold back a giggle.

“No. I’m making pasta primavera. Very fancy and difficult and special…” you say, tightening your grip on her neck again as her lips ghost yours.

“Mmm, sounds like you might need a hand. I should probably… stay and help…”

“You should… stay and help…” you take your hand from around the back of her neck, moving it slowly to grasp her jaw, pulling her slowly into a kiss that feels like it was a hundred years coming. Soft and gentle as you taste her again, your lips barely pressed together as you hear her slow inhale. Peaceful and right. So incredibly right. You part yours a little to let her in, wanting to feel her warmth again more than anything else. She feels so familiar yet so different, the sweetness of the whole exchange overtaking your ability to think straight. 

You feel her smile onto you as you disconnect, giving yourselves both a second to come back down to earth. 

“I’m… sorry, that was…” you say as you press your fingers to your lips. 

“Old habits die hard,” she laughs, the sound of it making you squirm with nerves. 

You’re both unable to speak for a minute or so, and you know for a fact that she is reeling just the same as you are. “So, you want to come inside?” you ask, finally standing and brushing your hands across your shorts. 

“Yeah, give me the grand tour….” she says, standing and following you through the yard. You stop and take her in, watching as her face is lit up and bashful from the kiss you both had been longing for for so long, now. 

You hold out your hand, urging her to take it as you top the steps, ready to start fresh with the only woman who has ever made you feel whole, and hoping that she’ll stay for more than just dinner. 

Taglist: @britney-gvf @gretavanmoon @sacredstarcatcher @wetkleenex-gvf @farfromthehomelands @takenbythemadness @writingcold @builtbybrokenbells @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @fleet-of-fiction @milkgemini @gvfpal @ageofcj@dancingcarbon @highway-tuna @stardustjake @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @gvfmarge @gracev0609 @myleftsock @literal-dead-leaf @peaceloveunitygvf @ageofbajabule @slut4lando @jordie-gvf @sadiechar @tinydancer40 @rosabellagvf @capnjaket @lyndz2names @thetroublegetssoloud71 @gretavanomens @spark-my-nature @josh-iamyour-mama @anythingforjtk @alwaysonthemend @danieljlmwagner @klarxtr @fortunatelytinybasement @demonrat444 @gretavansara @watchingover-hypegirl @hippievanfleet @digitalnomadz @raviolilegs @lipstickitty @hippievanfleet @klarxtr @strange-whorizons @do-it-jakey-baby @myownparadise96 @gvf-luna @starshine-wagner @cassiesgreta @joopsandjangs @whimsiliz @kiszkas-canvas @whimsiliz @joopsandjangs @broken0mens @scoreofinfantryvines @whereiskeara @do-it-jakey-baby @miravanfleet @heckingfrick @kiszka-canvas @whimsiliz @joopsandjangs @broken0mens @scoreofinfantryvines @whereiskeara @do-it-jakey-baby @miravanfleet @heckingfrick @jenniferkiszka

[lost-in-fandoms]

It's 3 am and I couldn't stop thinking about this post

"It's going to be fun, Maxy!"

When Daniel claps his hands the sound echoes up the stairs, making the whole building seem weirdly larger, the circular rooms swelling with it.

Max drops one of their bags on the floor, nose curling at the damp, slightly moldy smell permeating the old walls, eyes sweeping over the entrance. There's an old pair of plastic boots under a chair, feeling more ominous than it should.

Before he can say anything, Daniel is in front of him again, hands on his shoulders, expression surprisingly soft for someone who was bouncing off the walls a second ago.

"Thank you for coming with me, Max, really," he says, all sincerity and wide brown eyes.

Max doesn't say I've never learned how to tell you no, or I would do anything you asked me to, and especially not if you had asked me to marry you for real instead of to get the job, I would have still said yes, but still feels himself soften, blush threatening to betray him.

He doesn't know how to answer without sounding pathetically fond, so he doesn't, shaking Daniel's hands off of him. Missing them immediately.

"You, of course, should have picked me up before taking me inside," he jokes. He's expecting Daniel to move towards him, arms already raised, so he avoids him easily, laughing and darting towards the stairs.

"Are you calling me a bad husband, darling?" Daniel's voice curls around the pet name, saccharine sweetness making each syllable longer, but Max's heart still skips a little with it, unfairly uncaring of the joke and lie of it all. He can hear Daniel start climbing the stairs behind him.

He hurries, barely looking at the rooms he passes through, until he's at the top, panting, opening the door leading to the walkway outside.

The sea is breathtaking from here, wide and terrifying, even when placid like this, and Max doesn't dare actually stepping outside, nor does he think about approaching the metal steps leading up to the lantern room. The wind shoves water spray inside the room, immediately hungry for the dry haven of the lighthouse.

"If you wanted us to be panting and sweating, I had better ideas for newlyweds that involve less stairs and more..."

Daniel doesn't finish his sentence, sliding up beside Max and looking outside too, words stolen by wonder.

Max knows that it has hit him too, just then, that this is where they will be living for the next three months. Just them, the light and the sea. It's at the same time exciting and terrifying, nerves sparking down his spine, making him shiver.

Before he can say anything, or step back, Daniel has wrapped his arm around his waist, tugging him close.

"We're going to have fun, yeah Maxy?" an echo of earlier, warped to softness.

Max just hums, giving in to the indulgent pleasure of leaning into Daniel further, making himself smaller to tuck into his side, cheek against his shoulder.

Three months in a lighthouse with the guy he has been in love with for forever and who he accepted to marry for a job requirement. Three months with his best friend. Three months in a very limited space with the most restless person he knows.

Max isn't sure he would call the perspective fun, but it's not like he can go back now, not like he would leave Daniel, ever, so the only thing he can do is nod and hope it doesn't end in fights and heartbreak.

"We are."

[izzytheloser12]

~~~Since yall like the other incorrect quotes i've made more~~~

Kaito: I just learned a way to get stuff on the cheap. Steal it!

~~~~~~~

Akako: Dracula had it right, sleep all day, live alone in a castle, and explode into bats to get out of all social situations.

~~~~~~~~

*Yusaku goes shopping with child Shinichi*

Shinichi: Can I get a silenced pistol? Yusaku: If there’s one on sale.

~~~~~~~~~

*kaito and Aoko are having a sleepover*

Kaito: I made lightly fried fish fillets for dinner. Aoko: Kaito, It’s 1:15 am, what the fuck. Kaito: Do you want the lightly fried fish fillets or not. Aoko: Well, I mean yeah. Kaito: So come downstairs while they’re still hot. Aoko: Wait, you just made them? Kaito: Yeah, I wasn’t tired so I decided to make lightly fried fish fillets. Aoko: Say lightly fried fish fillets one more time Kaito.

~~~~~~~~~

Ran: Truth or dare? Shinichi: Truth. Ran: How many hours have you slept this week? Shinichi: Shinichi: Dare. Ran: Go to sleep. Shinichi: I don't like this game.

~~~~~~~~~~

Shinichi: Being gay is a constant battle between "I wish to sit on a window bench with my lover, our legs tangling as we listen to the birds" and "Hey, let's go throw rocks at fascists" and I think that's very sexy of us. Kaito: If the window's open and you time it right, you can do both.

~~~~~~

Kaito, trying to flirt: So, you come around here often? Shinichi, confused: I mean, this is my house, so yeah.

~~~~~~~~~

Shinichi: Did Kaito just tell me he loved me for the first time? Heiji: Yeah, he did. Shinichi: And did I just do finger guns back? Heiji: Yeah, you did.

~~~~~~~

Hakuba: I asked Heiji out. Kaito: Oh, I’m sorry. Hakuba: Why? Kaito: Well, I assume they said no. Hakuba: No, they said yes. Kaito: Really? Then I’m sorry for them.

~~~~~~~~~~

Shinichi: Fight me! Kaito: gets on one knee and pulls out a ring Kaito: Fight me for the rest of our lives.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Hakuba: Regular soda is too sweet! Kaito: Diet soda has a weird after taste! Hakuba: No! Ugh, oh my god. Diet soda is THE BEST! It doesn't have sugar! It's SPICY! Kaito: It has other weird stuff in it! I'll take REGULAR sugar in my REGULAR soda! Hakuba: It's SO SWEET like it's a dessert though! Diet feels more like a drink! Kaito: I'm going to physically attack you. Hakuba: Which is better, Shinichi? Shinichi: Oh, I usually drink water! Kaito: Wha- NO! Hakuba: DISGUSTING!

~~~~~~~~

Sonoko: Seriously, I have no idea what to do. Sonoko: Oh, wait! Yahoo! Answers.

~~~~~~~

Sonoko, texting: Answer your phone Ran, texting back: Wait a minute, I can’t find my phone Sonoko: Understood Sonoko, 5 minutes later: You’re a terrible person. You know you’re killing me. You’re killing me, Ran.

~~~~~~~~

Kazuha: Valentine’s day is just a consumerist holiday that holds no real value other than drive people insane buying heart shaped chocolates for their significant others and pos- Ran: I wrote you a poem. Kazuha, already crying: You did?

~~~~~

Kazuha: Due to personal reasons, I will be fucking sinking to the bottom of the ocean in a large metal box. Sonoko: Did Ran say 'I love you' and you said 'Thanks'? Kazuha: THE REASONS ARE PERSONAL–

~~~~~~~

*Shinichi is babysitting Ayumi*

Shinichi: Come on, you need to go to bed. Ayumi: Mr. Snuffles says that I can stay up as long as I want. And that you need to die! Shinichi: … Shinichi: What the hell, Mr. Snuffles—

~~~~~~~

Shinichi: When I first got my autism diagnosis, my first thought was “woah… it’s canon” and I think that maybe thoughts like that is why Haibara made me get tested.

~~~~~~~

Haibara: Why are we friends? Conan: Poor decisions on your part.

~~~~~~~~

Akako: I don’t care what anyone thinks about me. Aoko: Ok. Akako: Wait, why such a muted reaction? Did that not sound cool?

~~~~~~~

*after Yukiko and Shinichi got into a fight*

Yukiko: OKAY, YOU KNOW WHAT?! TIME OUT! GET ON TOP OF THE FRIDGE! GET UP THERE! Shinichi: Climbing THIS HOUSE IS A FUCKING NIGHTMARE!!!

~~~~~~

Akako: Honestly, I am so evil. So full of darkness. I feed of the souls of the living I strike fear into- Aoko: You sleep with a teddybear. Akako: He’s my sECOND IN COMMAND IN MY ARMY OF DARKNESS!

~~~~~

Kaito: As top in this relationship, I think we should- Shinichi: I can't believe you're pulling rank on me.

[thenatallie]

A decent lady

Part II

Description: You are Feyd's first concubine ever. You are terrified while being dressed up for him. He is thrilled while he waits for you and already has dirty thoughts and plans for you. You are finally presented to him... Warnings: Becoming sexy, if that should be a warning at all. Next chapter is gonna be a heavy smut, so MDNI.

***

You found yourself in a bath with herbs and rose petals, bald servant women were washing you and washing your face repeatedly, because you couldn't stop crying for being doomed for life. You realized immediately that you were going to be sex slave of that young man that you knew nothing about. They were scared because your eyes were already red and swollen. "Stop crying, please... You won't be pretty for our Lord. How can we do your makeup?", one girl said. Elder woman added: "We could be... replaced if we don't get you pretty in time." Between your sobs, you managed to ask who their Lord is. All the servants immediately started staring at you and quickly exchanged glances between themselves. One finally said: "Our Lord Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen." "Feyd-Rautha??!", you screamed in terror. The man known for being psychotic and killing people for fun! "Shh, don't yell, please! Walls have ears, someone might think that we speak bad of our Lord", one of servants said and gave you a concerned look. You understood her fear, poor woman. You stopped crying, and instead od that, you froze. "What is he going to do to me, is he going to hurt me?", you asked quietly, with shivery voice. The woman gave you a piece of friendly advice: "You just need to be obedient and adress him as Lord Na-Baron. Do whatever he says. So far, he never hurt ladies he has chosen. And remember - you should feel honored that he chose you." You took a long deep breath, realizing you really need to put yourself together to go through that nightmare.

***

Meanwhile, Feyd anticipated your arrival into his chambers any minute. He felt thrilled for what he wanted to do with you, his very first concubine. His perverse desires woulld be satisfied whenever he wanted. He just needed to seduce you, to drive you mad for him first, for there is nothing honorable about forcing his lovers to be. Seductuon should not be that hard despite the circumstances, Feyd thought. He knew women too well for quite some time now. Only a few of them were afraid like you when met him, but surprisingly quickly changed their minds. Except... except you were the most beautiful one he's met, you had blond wavy hair, you were slim and with really nice curves, with your eyes blue like his, your porcelan tan almost fair as his. Nevermind the fact you were a real mess that day, trembling for being traumatized. That excited him further as he was thinking of all the seductuon scenarios with you. He wandered how much more appealing you can get when dressed up only for him. He awaited you. He was nonchalantly leaned on a table, wearing black sheer tunic that almost completely revealed his godlike torso and veiny hands. A long, also black, heavy and layered skirt started little below his waist. His leather black boots were elegant, adding a fine touch to the outfit. Feyd was awaiting you while slowly sipping a glass of a dark, thick bittersweet liqor, occasionally licking and biting his lips at the thoughts of you.

***

The agonizing moment had came. Two servants took you into the dark chambers decorated by weapons and different metallic figures. They made gesture to present you to Feyd, bowing, then quickly went out and you heard the sounds of metal door closing. You dared to look at him. You did your best not to show fear, but you felt it anyway. Your eyes were first captured by his unreadable but predatory gaze. The you felt something else, too. Something that made you shift your eyes to his lips. They were so pink, plump and wet. Than your eyes wandered lower. His whole figure caused a faint thought somewhere in your mind that this situation might be a little easier than you think, a little more applealing even... You blushed and looked at the floor. Feyd red you easily, putting very content smirk on his lips. He finally spoke in a raspy voice: "Come here, little swan. Don't be afraid, come closer."

***

[lostbetweenvampiresandmusic]

Hey! Could you do a Poly Lost Boys x reader, where the plot is like Happy Death Day? It's ok if you haven't seen it, the basic plot summery is "A college student must relive the day of her murder over and over again, in a loop that will end only when she discovers her killer's identity." I was thinking that the reader is the one going through the loop, and the boys try to help you (the only down side of that is having to tell them everything again, every time the loop resets)

If not that's ok!

Thanks!

I hope you like this!

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

I didn't dare to look backwards, running through the bushes. The masked figure just only came closer and closer, and I knew I had to make a decision quickly. Should I run further and end up at the cliff, having nowhere to go? Or should I turn around and confront him?

I didn't fancy taking a dive of a cliff, so I did the only thing I could do. I turned around. "What do you wa-" I coughed, blood dripping down my chin. Shocked, I looked at the masked figure, then down at my stomach. A knife had been forced into my skin, being twisted around, and then being pushed back in. "W-why..." I fell to the ground, seeing how the killer bent down, ready to stab me some more and-

Screaming, I woke up, jumping out of bed. My hand ran over my stomach, which was whole. There was no stab wound. There was no blood. There were no cuts from running through the bushes. I shivered, horrified. Had this been a dream? It - it had felt too real.

"Are you alright?" I practically jumped, only now noticing that Paul had entered my room. I didn't say anything as I wrapped my arms around him, trying to calm myself down.

"Babe?"

"Just a bad dream, I think." Paul didn't look convinced, and in all honesty, I didn't feel convinced either. As I got dressed, I tried to forget it. Still, the uneasiness I felt didn't go away, and when I went outside, they all knew something was off.

The weird thing was, I realised as I sat behind David, it felt like the dream had happened before. I sighed, happy that we had arrived at the boardwalk. There, between the music and the rides, the comfort of the boys and the fact that they did their best to distract me, I finally felt a bit of peace.

"Come on, the dipper has reopened," Marko grinned, pulling me along. He knew I hated the rollercoaster, but a while ago, I had sadly lost a bet. He had won and had demanded that when the coaster reopened, I would go on it.

"No, no, I don't want to, I hate rollercoasters." I looked at him, but he shook his head. "I'll be with you. You lost the bet, this was what I won."

I sighed, shaking my head. "Fine, but no complaining if I turn green or if I throw up ."

"I would never!"

"I remember differently," I said, a small smile forming on my face. Next time that we'd do a bet, I'd make sure to know what was at stake before agreeing. As much as I enjoyed living with the boys, when it came to making bets, they somehow always managed to win.

When the ride was finally over, and I had indeed turned the slightest shade of green, the boys had found their prey for the night.

"You can come along, if you want."

I shook my head. "No, I don't think I can keep my stomach controlled this time." He chuckled.

"Rollercoaster?"

"Lost bet," I shrugged, leaning against the metal rail. "I'll be fine. I'm just going to browse, I think."

"We can go later if you're still shaken from this morning," Dwayne offered, but I shook my head. "Go. I'll be fine, promise."

With that, they left to hunt, and I turned to the stores. There wasn't much new inside, and after deciding it would be more fun to go to the concert down at the beach, I left the boardwalk.

The music was good, some cover band playing the latest hits. The crowd was big and wild, and even though the nightmare I had this morning still plagued my mind, I was certain nothing would happen in this crowd. So, I joined in. I danced, sang along to the tunes I knew, and got swept away by the music until, in the distance, I saw a shape wearing a mask.

I froze. The masked figure turned to look at me. Only now could I see what it represented, some sort of clown like face. As the clownfaced figure looked at me and saw how frozen I was, it waved.

I didn't think. I turned around and ran. Through the crowds, over the beach, under the boardwalk - I ran and ran, and I could feel it stinging in my side, but I could not stop because he was coming after me. I knew, I heard him. I ran, and I stopped. I turned around, and then I was once again coughing up blood, being stabbed in the stomach. I fell to the ground, my killer leaned over me and-

With a scream, I awoke, and jumped straight out of bed. This - I had been murdered. I had been murdered, and now I was awake, alive and - Paul came in. If I hadn't known he would have come in, I certainly would not have noticed.

"No, I'm not alright," I said quietly, before he could even ask if I was. Paul frowned, hugged me, but didn't ask how I knew what he was going to ask. The first time I woke up, yesterday, I had been certain it was a dream. But, if I woke up today, and I remembered that I was actually killed - maybe the first time, yesterday, wasn't a dream either?

I got dressed and went outside, we went to the boardwalk, and once again, Marko tried to get me on the rollercoaster. I froze. This had definitely happened before. Everything that happened today had happened before.

"Not today," I said dsitracted, as Marko dragged me to the coaster. "Something is wrong."

"What is?"

"What day is it?"

"Tuesday. Why?"

"Yesterday was Tuesday. There was a band playing, down at the beach. They only play on Tuesdays."

Marko frowned, taking me back to the others. "What's going on?"

"This happened before. Everything. Which also means that at the end of tonight, I will be killed... again." I frowned. Was that why this was happening? Did I have to try to survive?

"What do you mean killed?" Dwayne looked at me.

"The dream I had? I was murdered. Stabbed, repeatedly. But it wasn't a dream. It was what actually happened, and then when I died, it was morning again."

"Who killed you?" Paul asked, which made me realise that they could very easily find him in 's crowd, right? If they found the guy before he killed me, then I wouldn't have to die?

"A guy in a clownmask."

David sighed. "You're not going anywhere alone, alright?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I'd rather not get stabbed again, thanks."

This meant, obviously, that I had to join them while they fed. I drove with them to a distant bonfire, far away from the crowds, and waited by the bikes while they fed. Thinking about it, maybe being turned half would make killing me harder? Maybe that could prevent it from happening aga-

My eyes opened wide when a knife was pushed into my back. I screamed, stumbling forward. In the distance, I could hear Marko call my name, and then there was nothing.

With a scream, I awoke, jumped out of bed, and - horror came over me as I realised that once again I had been killed. "Paul? What day is it?"

"How did you know I was here?"

"What day-?"

"Tuesday, are you-?"

"Nope. Is everyone up, there's something I need to talk to you about."

There was absolutely no doubt about it, I was stuck in a timeloop, and every single time, it was Tuesday I got killed by a guy in a fucking clownmask.

"So, this has been the fourth time I woke up, and it is still Tuesday, and I don't know who is killing me or why, but I really want it to stop," I concluded my explanation.

"You're not kidding," Dwayne realised as he pulled me close. "Shit."

I nodded. It was shit, especially since I didn't quite know how to stop it.

"How long have you-?"

"This is the fourth Tuesday, and the second that I'm aware of the loop."

"What did we do yesterday, differently than the previous Tuesday?" David asked.

"I didn't go on the coaster with Marko, and I realised that I was stuck in a loop. I went with you when you fed, and then I was stabbed in the back."

"So even when we're with you, you got killed?"

"Yeah," I sighed.

"We can feed tomorrow. One of us will always be with you. Avoid crowds. Avoid going somewhere we can't follow. Maybe if you survive, the loop will be broken." I nodded, hugging David. "I hope so."

That night, I wasn't alone even once. We skipped the coaster, stayed on the edge of the boardwalk, and avoided the crowds. The only problem was that after having dinner, I realised that I needed to go to the bathroom. Paul went with me and patiently waited outside the stall door, making sure no one could get to me. When we left, we were surrounded by people. The concert at the beach had been over, and everyone went back to the boardwalk. I tried to reach for Paul's hand, but the crowd dragged me away. I tried to move my way back to him. He spotted me, was coming towards me, when suddenly horror crossed his face. I turned around and screamed as the knife was forced into my neck.

My hand shot towards my neck when I woke up, and I couldn't help but cry. Four times. Four times had I been killed. "Babe?"

"We need to stay here tonight, please."

"Kitten, what's going on?" David had entered as well. I told them again. Had to explain again how this was Tuesday number five, that I had been killed four times and that I was not only terrified but that I had no idea who was even doing this or how to stop it. Luckily, once again, they realised I wasn't lying - the benefit of having boyfriends who could hear your heartbeat, I thought quietly. So, that Tuesday we stayed in. But when they left to feed, something they decided on after agreeing that no one would find the cave, the masked killer appeared on top of the cliffs. I screamed, ran, hid, and once again, I failed.

It went like that for who knows how long. Every day, I explained it to the boys, and every time, we tried something new. And every time, I still got killed. I didn't know how many Tuesdays I have had, I didn't know who the killer was still - not that we hadn't tried to figure it out - and I was still dying every single day.

It was one Tuesday when I didn't even bother getting out of bed, and I decided that that was the next plan of survival. All those days, we had tried everything, but not one day had I stayed in bed. Once again, I explained, but the more I talked, the more I actually realised I wasn't feeling too great. When Dwayne stayed with me, after the others went out to get food, I realised why. Scars. My entire stomach was covered in scars, from all the stabbing I took.

Dwayne didn't say anything as he just held me, noticing before me that the boys had returned home. "We're in here," he'd yelled before making sure I was comfortable. It was then that my door swung open, and I screamed. The man with the clownmask was here. Dwayne jumped up, pulling the mask off, and - I didn't know who it was. The man was unknown to me, and still had he tried to kill me all these days.

"Who are you?" I asked, Dwayne standing in front of me.

The man just grinned. "Smith."

It happened quickly. David and the others returned, Dwayne and I both were distracted, and then I felt it again. The knife stuck in my heart as I fell down and everything went black.

"Smith!"

"What the fuck, babe?" Paul stood in the doorway, as I had once again woken up and it was once again Tuesday. "The guy who killed me, his name is Smith!"

Paul looked confused, but after so many Tuesdays, I had become very skilled in explaining that I was stuck in a timeloop. "The only problem is now, that I don't know who this Smith guy is."

"We do," Dwayne said, causing me to look up. "We killed his wife a while back. He has no proof, but he always thought we had something to do with it."

"So, if we find him and kill him before he kills me, then we break the loop, right?"

"I think so," David said, standing up. "We know where he lives."

"Alright, let's go," I grinned, stopping as I saw their concerned looks.

"He doesn't know where the cave is-"

"Marko, he does, I've been killed here at least seven times now."

"Shit."

"Yeah, honestly, the longest I've survived was when i was close to you four, so no way am I changing that up now."

The boys nodded, agreeing that I was right. That night felt different from the others. Somehow, I felt less fearful. We drove to Smith's house, Paul and Marko stayed with me as David and Dwayne entered, and within seconds, we could hear a grown man screaming. As they brought the body out, I froze.

"What is it? He's dead. You should be fine now," David looked at me.

"It's not him." I whispered, horrified. It was quiet for a moment when suddenly we all heard a snap. Someone had stood on a branch and broken it. The boys turned around before I could react, and Paul and Marko jumped into action. The man with the mask was here, grabbed by the boys. His mask was pulled off - and it was the same guy as yesterday. David had lifted the guy up, ready to tspear him a part, when in his last moments he threw his knife at me.

Smiths neck was snapped as I fell to the ground, crying quietly. "Not again... I dont-" The boys were next to me, Marko putting pressure on the wound, David taking the knife out. Paul had quickly improvised some bandages, and Dwayne kept me talking, kept me awake.

" 'm tired," I mumbled, feeling cold.

"I know, love."

"Love you guys," I mumbled before everything went black.

I woke up, crying out. It couldn't be - I didn't want to love through yet another Tuesday, I couldn't.

"Babe?"

"No, no, no, no, no, please-"

"It's Wednesday," Paul held me as I cried. "It's Wednesday, it's over."

"Wednesday?"

"Yeah," Marko and Dwayne entered.

"We killed Smith," Marko sat down behind me.

"Managed to save you in time," Dwayne smiled, giving me a soft kiss.

"How many Tuesdays did you have?" David stood in the doorway.

"To many. Way too many."