#kind of wanted to destroy my own feelings by editing this

[ma1dita]

solipsism

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 5.1k

summary: (post-TLT) drink responsibly… trouble doesn’t; you punch luke in this lol (novelization spoilers? kinda canon-compliant)

The one where you finally pray to Hestia to keep your home safe, even if he's also trying to destroy it. Luke visits you four times during college, in a timeline opposite to yours (doctor x river song-coded) (lore expansion & explanation here) (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: i hurt myself with this one. anyways its canon (to me) that we’re roommates now !!!! more to come like i promised even during my birthday break ! scream at me in the comments and feel free to reblog :)

(post 3/6, edited/betad @hotchfiles )

—

solipsism (the idea that only one’s mind is sure to exist)

You didn’t mean to send a prayer out into the world so strong that it would will an apparition of an Olympian, but burning cookies seems to be your specialty. Arguably, they weren’t the good kind, just the ones you grab in the freezer aisle of Walmart, and still, somehow they set your fire alarm off. Opening a window and waving through the smoke— Hestia, goddess of the hearth and home was standing next to the rickety dining table you bought off Facebook marketplace. 

“Holy shit, you scared me!” 

There’s mirth in her eyes at your reaction, though for all you know it could be annoyance—it’s not often that an immortal could be badgered enough to reveal themselves for an accident like this one.

“Dionysus was right. You’re too much like him for your own good,” she grins, taking a seat at the table like she’s an old friend. There’s a warmth to her unlike anyone you’ve met before—fire crackling in her eyes and an aura of serenity swaddling the air that you’ve never felt before in your student accomodations.

“I’m sorry I just… with all due respect, what’s going on?”

You go to toss the hot tray of cookies in the trash bin, before hesitating and putting them on your nicest plate. A gentle shove slides them over the table to the goddess, and she takes a crunch out of one happily.

“You were praying,” she states, like its common knowledge, “so strongly, in fact, I thought I’d make a visit to one of my most loyal devotees. Though in this case, you’re the object of his devotion, yes?”

Your hands are clasped across your lap and a familiar feeling spreads through you, then she jerks her hand up and points, “There. You’re doing it again. Y’know, it’s about time you start reciprocating the effort. Hermes’ son prays for you with intention.” You were thinking about Luke before she appeared—and hope glimmered like a tiny open flame. It’s still there, in the slow beating of your heart.

“He’s waging war with the gods. I don’t think he prays to them anymore,” you reason. Luke's offerings to the hearth must have been extinguished by the wrath he’s rained on Camp Half-Blood by now. The perfect storm.

“Not when it comes to you. Mortals never fail to surprise me. But it seems you’re a special case, my sweet. He’s made a home of you.”

To love Luke feels like having to keep a secret and never being able to tell anyone, but Hestia reaches for your hands across the table and looks at you knowingly.

“When I gave up my seat on Olympus for your father it wasn’t a sign of weakness, even if I did it so that others could be happy. I think your soul is a lot like mine in that you’ve given up so much of what you want to protect others. In turn, he’s doing the best he can to protect you; I listen to him every day, sweet girl. You are not weak for loving him still. There are generations of strength in your bones.”

“What else am I supposed to do? I search for him in everyone I meet and I’m not sure I’ll ever find that type of love again.”

These are thoughts you’d never told anyone—not Annabeth, not your father, not even yourself and surely never aloud.

“I hope you never do,” the goddess says, and you know it too.

i. no winter lasts forever (a night out after a drive home from virginia)

Flick. Flick.

“Come on, Hestia. Not you too. Don’t fail me now,” you mumble. The frigid metal of your zippo lighter rubs against your thumbs as you cup it in your hands, shielding the tiny flame that fights the harsh winter wind. Trying to focus as you lean against the brick of the Inferno, you take a deep inhale of smoke to warm your bones. Healing was never supposed to be easy.

Breathe in.

It’s somewhat of a routine you’ve made since getting back from visiting Annie. You’re a regular at this pub now—not even acclimated to the ins and outs of your sleepy college town, and though you don’t know the name of the hall your classes are in, you do know there’s a barstool in the corner of the Inferno with your name on it. There’s something funny about using your father’s gift as a form of fake id, and you wonder if he knows how heavily you indulge in your vices. Five vodka redbulls down the hatch have your knees feeling weak under the alley light until a stranger looms over you like a shadow.

“Those things are gonna kill you one day.”

Breathe out.

“Gods willing,” you laugh, stumbling over your boots and Luke catches you like he was never meant to let you go in the first place. The leather of his jacket is musky and his hair is buzzed. 

Either you were wasted or uncaring of who he was (both), you toss him your car keys and climb into the passenger seat. It’s a silent ride to your apartment besides you giving him the directions and Luke wonders how bad he must have hurt you for you to lay out for a stranger and waste away like this. But he’s the farthest thing from a stranger, even in this error in time and you’re still the daughter of the god of wine so after the third time you try to put your key in the lock he helps you because he hopes you’ll let him in.

“Y’know Annie would get a kick out of your haircut. Come inside.”

You’ve always been able to see right through him.

He’s standing in the hallway with his hand around your waist and he’s already broken too many of the titan’s orders by being here, so he scoffs, “You’re not gonna remember this by morning.” But you leave the door open anyway, dragging him by the wrist and your hand still feels the same in his even after all this time. What more is there to resist when there’s not much left of him to lose? 

This is the last time, he reminds Kronos, and there are monstrous hands around his brain, but yours are still gently holding his heart. The little part of his soul that hasn’t been eaten away holds on for a bit longer, tethered to your being by the way your hands are tied.

“I can, if you want me to.” 

He looks ready for war, and he is— yet you have him following you around the tiny living room almost in a trace as your arms loop around his neck. Luke doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know if you’d want to see him sober, especially when his absence is still fresh for you.

“Baby you look different from the last time we met,” you slur, stepping onto his feet as he takes you for a spin around the coffee table, dancing in the quiet. He’s older than you’ve ever seen him, voice deeper and colder. This is not the boy that ran from you in the forest many months ago. This is a man who’s seen horrors you haven’t lived through yet. You can deduce that he’s the cause of them too.

“So do you. Though still as beautiful as I remember,” he whispers like he’ll get struck for saying it. Your eyes are unfocused as he inspects your face, still soft and young with hope. The titan grips his features now, almost burning through his sense of self—though it’s not tangible he wonders if you could see it.

“I see you all the time. I just… usually have to drink enough to make it feel real. I just miss you.”

He looks pained at your words, and for a moment you wonder if he even heard you. Luke pushes you towards your room, an aura of darkness spreading through him like fire but he relents, pushing past the flames. He’s on borrowed time now, but Luke would gladly waste those minutes tucking you into bed.

Lifting your arms up, he pulls an old shirt of his over your shoulders, and his eyes catch onto the fact that you’re still wearing the dragon scale necklace he made you. Luke digs through your medicine cabinet while you sloppily wash your face and his calloused hands rub serums and moisturizer into your cheeks like how you taught him once upon a time. These are the things he won’t forget. Kronos can take it all away, as long as he gets to keep you. You lean against his chest and shut your eyes, scared that if you open them again he won’t be there.

“You’re not supposed to be here, are you? Are you mine?”

“I’m always going to be yours,” he says with no hesitation, “Four years later, and there is still not one living thing worth losing you,” he says, lips chasing after your fingertips as you trace his jaw. Your eyes flutter in exhaustion, and Luke’s eyes survey your room and he finds traces of you that he’s missed as he rubs your back lovingly like he has all the time in the world.

Your hands cup his face, making him look at you, and he surrenders himself to you as you pull him into a kiss. He’s a ticking time bomb about to detonate in your arms. The warnings that Kronos is beating into his head is nothing compared to the pain of knowing he won’t be with you for much longer. And he kisses you like he could save you from his blaze by doing so, lips and tongue and shattered breath saying I’m here, and this is real. Maybe your worst vice is not being able to wean yourself off the taste of him.

“Tell me what I need to hear. Even if it’s not true…Even if you’re not real,” you say between gasps, and your position on his lap makes him wonder why he’d ever give the world up and burn it down when it’s sitting right here and staring at him with violet eyes.

“It’s always going to be you and me. I’ll love you until the end of my days and then some.”

You laugh in the way that drives him crazy—though he already is, for loving you still. Luke lost all sense of himself when he left camp four years ago. All that remains is you, pushing him so that his back hits the bedspread. He lets you consume what’s left of him, and he’s on fire.

You wake up the next morning with a jolt. It’s still winter, and you’re still alone but despite the chill, you feel warm.

ii. autumn years (with a familiar visitor who finally shows up on time)

Knock, knock.

There’s someone at the door, but your date isn’t supposed to be here for another 10 minutes.

“Babe, someone’s here for you!” your roommate Jo calls out, and you tell her it’s fine to let them in.

The pantyhose clings to the lotion on your thighs and you fix the bracelet on your wrist, stepping out from the bathroom hollering, “You’re early, Kit! Don’t tell me you’re skipping to the good part; I’m a lady i–”

“Who’s Kit?”

Luke’s standing in the doorway of your bedroom and his eyes flit to the reflection of your naked back peeking through the undone zipper of your dress. You look stunning, lips painted red and eyes smoky, but you’re also furious. Too bad he’s always thought you looked extra hot when you’re mad.

“None of your business. As you can see, I don’t exactly have the time for this, Castellan.”

He shrugs, closing the door behind him gently and with the raise of his brow, Luke is leering at you like a teenage boy. Respectfully, of course. The glint of celestial bronze against his hip reminds you who he’s become though.

“I’ll make the time if you say the words, trouble.”

Sighing, you step forward, but then he does that thing again from the last time you saw him out on sea, twisting the crick in his neck like he has to resist your touch.

“You’re still funny. Some old habits die hard I guess,” you scoff, turning and lifting your hair out of the way so that he can zip you up. He opts to not touch you, sliding the dress closed until it fits against your body. You think you can feel his fingers ghost above your skin, and goosebumps rise where he leaves and his breath is warm on the back of your neck.

“Leave your weapons at the door. I run a tight ship, unlike you.” 

Gliding away from him while his hands are still in the air, you turn and sit at the edge of your bed, crossing your legs as you nod at him. Luke picks up the pair of heels next to where he sets the sword against the wall, and like it’s nothing out of the sort, he gets on his knees. You offer a foot to him while he speaks, “I could tell by the taser on your bedside table. You’ve killed monsters before, why a taser?”

There’s freckles on his tanned cheeks and he smells like the sun. You wonder what he’s done to come see you tonight.

“I’ve found out that not all monsters are mythical. When…are you?”

His eyes dart away from yours, securing the buckles on your ankles, and his touch sears through the mesh of your pantyhose.

“A few months ahead.”

There’s an eyelash on his nose, and your finger reaches out to touch it, but he flinches away. Face pulling into a frown, you spit, “You never slow down enough to let me catch up with you, huh?”

You can hear the microwave whirring in the kitchen, your roommate none the wiser of the sound of two hearts breaking. The both of you suddenly realize this is the first time you two have been alone (and the same age) since he left camp. There’s a silent question of if it will ever happen again as he gets up from the floor.

“So you’re seeing other people. Must’ve been easy, h—”

You punch him in the face before he finishes speaking, and all he can do is laugh. You would never let him off so easily.

“Fuck you. What, you think you can just hop in here and act like everything’s okay? What do you want, Castellan? For me to grovel at your feet and beg for you to fix what you broke?”

And you’re right, he supposes. This is the closest to peace that you’ll get in this life you’ve created without him. He won’t be able to take you on nice dinner dates like Kit can, or hold your hand without feeling like fate is going to smite him for existing. You scoff at the lack of his response.

“What happens next?”

Luke watches you chew on your lip, and even if he shouldn’t touch you in fear that you’ll will away his reason for defecting, by the gods does he want to.

“What do you mean?” he mutters. The cord of his necklace is tucked into your dress now that he looks closer.

“If I’m right,” you say (and it’s rare that you’re not), “each version of you that comes to see me knows less, and each time I see you I learn more. You were 23 last time. Why didn’t you see me at 22?” You know he won’t have an answer, but this is the only time you’ll be able to ask the real him. The one that’s yours, just a few steps ahead.

“There’s already been a lot that’s happened since I last saw you.”

“Are you going to hurt me?” you offer him, like he hasn’t already. He can feel the bruise blooming on his cheekbone and he grimaces with what he’s about to say.

“Never intentionally. I’ll try not to.”

It sounds stupid coming out of his mouth and you feel stupid with how empty you feel just watching him. He’s made a home of you, choosing moments in time to visit, but when he inevitably leaves, then what? Luke taught you how to be a home, forgetting you exist until it’s convenient and now there are things about yourself that you can’t unlearn yet don’t know what to do with.

Your roommate knocks on your door asking if you want a shot of vodka before your date starts, and Luke is already walking towards it since he’s overstayed his welcome. He raises his sword to open a portal but you shake your head.

“Go out the way you came,” you swallow, fiddling with the copper pendant around your neck, “and take the purple umbrella in the hall. It’s raining outside.”

When you walk into the kitchen moments later, the front door shuts gently and Jo’s sitting at the table with a mouthful of ramen noodles.

“Is he warming up the car? Your date’s hot as fuck, babe,” she grins, steam coating her glasses.

Knock, knock.

Your phone buzzes and there’s another knock at the door. Kit is 15 minutes late.

iii. auld lang syne (ringing in the new year with an old friend, or more)

Your apartment is filled with friends and acquaintances, but who the fuck cares anyway? There’s 10 minutes to midnight and you’re crossed out of your mind. Holding onto a half-empty bottle of prosecco, your heels clomp over to the window in the living room as you crawl onto the fire escape. 

Clack, clack.

The air is chilly as you hug yourself, and you hear someone step out onto the stairs behind you. 

“What are you doing out here alone?”

You sigh, not even turning to look at him, “What are you doing here, period?”

He takes the bottle of prosecco out of your hands, making you swivel your head to look at him as he takes a big gulp. He’s younger again, and it makes you laugh at how fucked up your luck must be to never be able to see him when you want. It’s always been on Luke’s terms.

“You’re too young to be drinking that,” you drawl, knees bumping against his when he takes a seat next to you. Long Island is quiet at night, and the lack of city lights is nice when you can see the stars so clearly. Music blares through your JBL speaker in the living room, and the sound of cheers gets louder when The Neighborhood starts playing.

“We used to do worse,” he laughs, but something in it sounds hollow. The breeze picks up and you shiver, taking the bottle back from him and swigging it.

“All these visits…you sure do know how to make a girl feel special. But you never come in the summer.” 

He clears his throat, before leaning back on his elbows, “ I haven’t gone a summer without you since we were 14.” This Luke doesn’t know what’s ahead of him yet, but you realize that he’s right. Even now, he keeps up the habit of pissing you off and raising hell on Camp Half-Blood every summer. You notice he’s not wearing his camp beads, and he notices you shiver again in the chill. 

Clack, clack.

Your heels rattle the metal of the fire escape as you readjust your position. He takes off his jacket to sling it around your shoulders and neither of you realize you’ve missed the countdown until fireworks burst in the sky above you. The red and blue reflect off the planes of his face, but what stands out to you is the orange of his shirt, and you comprehend now where he just came from.

“I had to see you. I didn’t get to say goodbye when I left,” he says, and you take another sip before handing him the bottle to finish off. The only new years’ kiss you’re getting is through the lips that hold the last remaining drops of prosecco. 

You nod, remembering it all too well as you both watch the fireworks in silence. He wasn’t able to watch them properly the last time he was with you, Annie, and Percy just a few hours prior.

iv. spring cleaning (only big days are ahead for the both of you) 

It’s quiet in your college apartment this morning. 

The moving boxes are half-packed and stacked against the wall of the entryway and the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the French press on your kitchen counter permeates the air. Perhaps the idea of caffeine is the last thing on your mind, hands twitching as they smooth over the black polyester of your graduation regalia. There’s a few hours still before the ceremony, but you’ve never liked being unprepared. Pollux is driving your dad down the Island because despite the war you’ll inevitably be fighting in once you cross the stage and get your degree, D specifically told Zeus that he’d wage another if he was made to miss your big day.

Parting your hair to fit under the ugly graduation cap, the tassel swings in front of your face as you grab a few bobby pins from the side table. A golden medallion of Castor’s smiling face almost whips into your cornea and you stifle a laugh. D said in his Iris message last night that all three of them would cheer so loud you’d be able to hear it from Elysium (and honestly, jokes aside—he probably has a way of making that happen). A staggered breath leaves your lungs, and you’re filled with anticipation, though you’re not sure what for. 

Time is a thief and you know that too well by now. After all, you’ve spent the past four years running from the truth of your heritage—dodging monsters between study sessions and grief welcoming you every time you come home. Four years later, and who are you trying to fool? While walking across that stage later you might as well take a bow. After all, your ex-boyfriend is the reason why there’s going to be a war of both blood and ichor, mortal and undying and still, you find yourself in the middle of it. You’ve found yourself fielding questions this last semester like dodging celestial bronze, the questions always a little too close to home and the answers you give are too entertaining to be considered the truth.

So, what are your future plans? 

Oh no big deal, just going home and dealing with generations-old family drama. If it drives me crazy enough I might enlist! 

Gods. 

How do you even articulate that these past few years were those future plans? That you didn’t expect to be alive this long, much less have the comfort of feeling secure enough to dream… It’s been years since you’ve had a good dream to work towards with a boy you once knew holding your hand through it all. But the expensive piece of paper you’ll be receiving later feels fake somehow. 

Who does that belong to? Surely not you…surely, someone who dreams without bearing the weight that comes with it. Someone who doesn’t have to look over their shoulder everytime they walk to work in the mornings, who can convince children that monsters aren’t real without having to lie. Psychology was a great field to learn from the mortal side of things—to know the reasons why brain chemistry affects us so deeply instead of just willing it away with the touch of your fingers. You like making people feel better. But who can ever do that for you?

A gust of wind sweeps through your room, the multicolored tassels hanging off your neck swaying from the force and you shut your eyes knowing he’s there again. Citrus and musk, and something that’s just him. He knocks over your hamper, cussing under his breath until his eyes follow your motionless figure in front of the mirror.

“Shit. I can explain, um… I thought you’d still be asleep,” Luke sputters, his converse falling into your laundry pile like quicksand. He bends over, stuffing your pajamas and sweatshirts back into the bin with fidgety hands as his eyes take a quick scan of your room. There are no pictures of you and him on the bedside table. For a moment, he wonders what that means but then his cheeks redden when he picks up a pair of your lacy underwear. He shoves that down too.

“Big day today. You know I can’t sleep when I know something is about to happen,” you smile wistfully, and you keep your eyes shut for longer, because like this, it’s almost like he’s actually there in real time. In a world where things went your way, this would be his apartment too, and his clothes would be scattered around your shared bedroom like how they used to back in cabin 12. You always used to put them on The Chair, as he would call it—but Luke’s known to make a mess of your life regardless of your efforts.

“When isn’t there? Something’s always going on when you’re around, trouble.”

Click. Scattered memories flicker in your head like images through a view-finder, spinning through your vision as you hear the sound of his laughter, gently tapping away at your heart again. Click. In the ones you pre-selected, he’s draped in sunlight, honey eyes sweet and kind, and his kisses are perpetual instead of an indulgence. Click. He’s always wearing faded orange, worn-out, but most of all well-loved. Click.

You open your eyes and they meet his own in the mirror. Time stops for once, letting you catch your breath.

Right now, he looks just as you like to remember him, as you knew him four years ago. Multicolored camp beads are resting easily against his broad neck instead of weighing him down, and he’s wearing the red converse his dad gave him. He’s too young, and so in love with you that it blinds him, but even then…now, he knows the look on your face and it makes him ask, “It’s not my first time visiting you is it?”

“You’re usually more discreet, the door right behind me wouldn’t have been your first option. But you’ve never failed to surprise me before. Tell me about your day, Luke.”

A hesitant smile crosses his face as he sheathes Backbiter against his hip, adjusting under the weight like he’s not used to it yet, and then he speaks, “We ate strawberries in the fields today, straight off the vine, but I argued that the ones you conjure will always taste sweeter to me. You smushed one against my face and I carried you home. You?”

You nod, turning around to face a ghost of your past, and the both of you meet in the middle only a hairs distance away as you admire each other.

“I graduate today. Annabeth’s driving up with her boyfriend and the rest of my family is coming to celebrate.”

He doesn’t know of Percy yet, of Chris’ insanity, of your brother’s death, and the immense hurt he’s caused everyone. The smile that lights up his face makes you realize he thinks he's still a part of this—you. And you miss him—even when he’s right here, fuck, you miss all the versions of him that have come to visit, even the ones you don’t know of yet. Tears brim your waterline as you take a deep breath; the last thing you want to do is scare him away.

“This was his promise to me. By showing me something I was sure of—and I always knew you’d graduate and make it big. Wanted to see it for myself, baby,” he grins, tangling his fingers with yours like your strings of fate, and though you know the answer to your next question you still take a chance, just in case.

“If I tell you what’s happened since…you. Would it be too late to change your mind?”

“Trouble, do you want me to? Kronos’ plan is already set in motion. I think…” he swallows, and your vision blurs without your permission as tears start to fall. Through the film over your violet eyes, Luke frowns and pulls your fingertips to his lips, kissing each one. He hasn’t done that in years.

“Did I make a mistake? Do I lose you, in the end?”

“Angelface…” you sniff, leaning your cheek against his hand, “You were so scared of losing me that you didn't even stop to think of what losing you would do to me. I lost you so long ago, Luke. And you’re not mine anymore. I don't think you have been in a long time.” In these heels, your forehead is closer to his lips so he kisses that too, hoping that somehow this time he can will away your pain instead of his. He doesn’t know what to do but hold you until you say something again.

“I’ll tell you something you need to hear. And no matter what you say or think, babe—it’s the truth. Even without all the glory in the world I would still be yours. I still am, even if I can’t bear it.”

Though he’s holding you, it somehow feels like the opposite—a purer version of him in your embrace while he holds the broken pieces of you together with his golden touch. Right now, you look into honey instead of gold. The both of you look at each other in the mirror melded together like kintsugi, something good still shining through the cracks of you two together like this.

The sound of keys jangling in the lock of the front door lifts you from his embrace, and with one look you both know its time for him to go; Luke’s brows furrow as he mutters, “I’m sorry. I’ll fix this, and we’ll be together. I promise.” You nod anyway, hoping at least one of you believe it.

“Go home, Luke. She…I still need you. I’m always gonna.”

He’s already got Backbiter in hand and one foot through time when he looks back at you. Your voice sounds a lot like how it does when you tell him you love him. Luke wonders how long it’s been since you did. Your bedroom door opens with a bang and some laughter.

“Hey troublemaker, you left the dryer on! All your clothes are gonna shrink,” Jo grins, peeking her head through the doorway of your room and she’s looking at you in your graduation gown standing there alone.

“Were you on the phone? Who were you talking to?”

It’s quiet in the apartment again. Your fingernails make indents in your palms, bunching up into fists before you let go. A sad smile crosses your face as you let the settling wind kiss your cheeks, before reality kicks in and everything settles back to how it was before. 

“Just someone I used to know.”

—

“And no one can ever figure out what you want, and you won’t tell them, and you realize the one person in the world who loves you isn’t the one you thought it would be, and you don’t trust him to love you in a way you would enjoy.” -Richard Siken

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?)

1/2 luke taglist: @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko@bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303  @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r@visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri

#luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #pjo x reader #made by ma1dita ♥︎ #luke castellan imagine #percy series #luke castellan angst #thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[alastorsfuckassbob]

You're Never Fully Dressed-

Alastorxfem!reader

oh boy everyone's favorite! Please I have never written before, I just figured I'd give it a shot it was 1:35 and I was not feeling sleepy so an hour later here it is, its not edited so SORRY ABOUT THAT- all of my friends are normal and would definitely not proof read this hot garbo!

Basic Plot!! Yikes another song fic i know i KNOWW, the reader knew our good pal Al in her life but oopsies he "left" her (he died duh) and now shes taking a sad hot girl bubble bath to reminisce!!

Lyrics are bolded, past events Italics for the most part.

ALSO Please DNI if you're a minor k thanks bye!! You are responsible for your own internet consumption, so here are the warnings! If you don't want to view that ✨dont✨

Warnings include:

-Swearing

-Violence

-Alcohol Use but not abuse! (its hell duh)

-Abusive Relationships

-Slight Innuendo but not a strong one!

-Angst

The fire danced, flitting left and right. It was different than any other fire set in hell, it wasn't meant to hurt anyone or destroy anything. It was just a small flame, melancholically melting the dripping wax down the white lilac scented pillar. Floral scents were hard to come by unless you made them yourself, it was hell after all, its not like theres a flower garden planted on every corner. The candles single wick didn't produce more than a drop of light. It just flickered every now and then, entertaining its own little lonesome sway. Your demeanor softened as you looked at it from the petal filled bath you currently resided in.

Oddly you felt at peace, understood, almost comforted. You had learned to dance the same way it seemed. You caught yourself when you fell, twisting and turning to please an audience. It was a cruel existence. At least the flame looked content in some way, at least it would never know what it was like to contort under the will of another. Yet it was still a light in darkness, shining for no other reason than to survive...All it could ever do was take, even if it didn't want to, fire needs to burn. To burn it must destroy. You sighed sinking deeper into the bubbly water. You didn't want to think about your past. Not anymore. You didn't have to anymore anyway. Life had not been kind to you and that constant displeasure followed you through your death and into the pits of hell. Funny how suffering could follow biting desperately at your heels and the man who was so "desperately" in love with you in life just couldn't find it within himself to stay...God you sounded bitter. To be fair you were. After all he had ruined your life and he didn't even know it...It wasn't that bad was it? You probably would still be in hell regardless, even without his "involvement" or lack of- you had always been a sinner. It wasn't worth it to be upset, not anymore he's most likely dead, you definitely are, whose to say if he'd even wind up down here. You paused a moment, laughing at the silly conclusion overthinking had led you to.. no that fucker is definitely in hell. Sweet as he was up front, he had a dark side that went much deeper than his soft exterior could cover. You closed your eyes..

1923- Central New Orleans

Suddenly it was 1923. The flower lined streets of late spring in New Orleans. His smile never wavering as he dragged you from store to store. As your dear companion, and biggest supporter, he had asked you to assist him at the radio station. Now that you had finished school you would need a job anyway. You'd always had a beautiful voice and a knack for writing. It just made sense. His hand squeezed yours lightly pulling you from your thoughts. In his hands, he held a burgundy day dress and a matching bow.

"Darling, would you try this on for me? I believe it is high time you were rewarded for all of your hard work. I believe you would simply sparkle in this color"

You smile softly at his gentle tone, taking the delicate dress in your hands. You find yourself caught in his eyes. It feels like you two are the only people on the planet

You feel the familiar sensation of tears on your face, you open your eyes again, you hadn't realized you'd started crying.

you let out the shrill scream you didn't know you were holding in. the fluke of champagne you had so tediously been savoring since you began your bath cracked slightly. You downed the rest of the glass, and grabbed the bottle sitting lazily on the floor. You didn't want to think about him or your life anymore...but it consumed you. You had so many more important things to fret about in your..current..environment. Songs to sing, bitches to kill, people to fuck. A grand glorious array of newer shinier problems, and yet you were stuck sulking about the past. You take a deep breath shaking slightly despite the warm vanilla scented water surrounding you. You remove your hand from the water motioning to the shadow hiding behind a vase (of no more than slightly wilted roses). It slinks forward at your beckoning, climbing to the white marble countertop of your vanity, it clicks the worn down knob of your rickety old radio. light jazzy music trickles out and fills the air with lovesick nostalgia you weren't entirely prepared to let in. No matter what he had done...you would always fall back to him. Even if he was nothing more than ill-fated failed fourteen year "endeavor". fourteen years is quite a long time, even if the majority of it was spent more or less platonically. You really did love him. Love doesn't always follow those that leave, you are testimony and truth to that. You let your mind wander guided by the static filled notes of the radio.

Hey, hobo man

Hey, Dapper Dan

You've both got your style

But brother

You're never fully dressed

Without a smile!

Even through the shudder of the static, it really did sound like him. Despite being the "host" of the station. He had his fair share of performances. For such a Hell bound soul he had the voice of an angel.

You close your eyes once again and allow the melody to take you back to an easier time.

1926- New Orleans, Your apartment

You sing along with whatever tune the radio gives you. You're at peace, simply existing for no other reason than to be with your friend.

"Dance with me my little canary, your voice lights a fire within me"

He pulls you in by the waist. His hands splayed across your hips holding them with a gentleness you'd never expected him to hold for you. He leans his head down against the yours and places a chaste kiss on your forehead

"Alastor" you giggle, the sensation tickling you slightly. "You are quite ridiculous"

"Ridiculous?" he feigns hurt. "My darling I am so far from ridiculous the word does not find sense within my ears" he spins you around and into his chest, you roll your eyes ignoring his antics

"Dearest are you aware you are speaking with the future of radio?"

"The future of radio? Please Love, don't jest. The 20s surely have more in store than you" You laugh into his chest and he shockingly laughs with you.

Neither of you know it but you are both so drunk on the sound. To you, his laugh sounds like the swift church bells that used to ring throughout your home town whenever someone got married. It feels familiar and yet like a distant memory. It makes you want to hear it over and over again until your ears stop working, and even then you'd settle in just fine feeling the vibrations of his chest. He sounds like home. To him, your laugh sounds like the rushing creek and smooth algae covered stones resting deep beneath the trees draped in Spanish moss of his mothers cabin in the woods. Just hearing your laugh he can feel the spotted sunlight speckling his freckled face underneath the big willow tree. You sound like home. Everything about you- it felt like home to him. His hands were crafted to hold soft curves of your body. His ears were made to hear your voice and your voice alone. You were purpose, his home. You don't know it, but it is that realization that sparked the idea of marriage into his heart.

That fire was put out not long after.

You at least had those nine years as his friend, three years as his "copain" if you will- and two years as his fiancée...and so many years alone. You only spent 14 years in the company of this man. You had lived before knowing him a good 17 years, and a good long bit after.

Why were you so stuck?

You hum along subconsciously, the objects in your bathroom begin to glow a familiar pink, levitating slightly in the air as you continue to hum. Your ability isn't weak by any means, but for some reason you were. You were nothing in comparison to hells overlords, especially the newest trio of Vs. Your power is so deeply connected to your voice, how can you hold power when it doesn't belong to you anymore? You drift back to the memory of your arrival. Scared, alone, dressed a great deal less than modestly, and equipped with nothing more than a pair of horns, some wings you couldn't quite use yet, and a thin devil like tail. It was only your third hour in hell. You didn't understand the rules. You were playing a twisted game in which you didn't realize you were just another piece of.

Shock can make a person anxious and fear will make them stupid. He was tall and smelled distinctly of cigars, soured whiskey, and something pungently sweet you couldn't name. It burned your nose as you inhaled it. You would become well aquatinted with the smell of lust in the years to come, you just didn't know it yet. It seemed innocent at first, just a simple contract, no different than a job. All you had to do was sing and dance at a club, in exchange for safety. But it was different and it wasn't innocent. He was cruel and yet no different than so many of the men you had dealt with in life. He agreed to your terms of anonymity and thats about it. You had your private life and his life. Valentino never played fair. You didn't know that yet, and now you're hells favorite sinner, a least no one knew it was you. If he had asked you another day later you would have realized you could have probably fended for yourself, with some difficulty anyway. At least you wouldn't have to be in this mess. You wouldn't be fucking six people before noon. You wouldn't be constantly covered in bruises and scars...Maybe you could have found him, Alastor that is. Maybe you could have at least been friends again. Its silly to hope for anything more since your romantic relationship ended...✨the way it did✨

Your clothes may be Beau Brummelly

They stand out a mile

But brother

You're never fully dressed

Without a smile!

1931- New Orleans, The river

The two of you sit beside each other in a small wooden row boat. Your hair is tied back with your signature crimson ribbon. He fiddles with the pocket of his jacket. The Louisiana soundscape of crickets, frogs and running water accompanies your conversation. Fireflies light up the air, almost bringing the stars down to your fingertips. With a buzz and a gentle green glow, the small creature lands on your hand. Your smile leaks wonderment and Alastor can hardly contain the love he feels for you.

As a Radio Host, he is quite agile in the way of words, yet something about you has him constantly at a loss. He takes a deep breath, unsure of what to say his voice wavers as he begins to speak.

"y/n, I want to thank you for the effect you've had in my lif-"

"My love look at the stars!" You didn't mean to cut him off, Your arms stretched upwards your face turning to meet his. The stars were so much brighter then they were in the city, it was only natural for you to be excited

"Yes doll, I see them, they're the same as they were last night and many many nights before hand"

You let out an impatient huff

"that doesn't make them any less beautiful." a mischievous glint hides in your eyes "now wouldn't it be so dreadfully terrible if I got bored looking at you just because I've already seen you before?" You fake a yawn and look at him eyes seething with boredom

"It would be so dreadful considering I was about to propose to you"

There is no other word to describe what you felt other than shocked. You had been an item for quite some time, but you never figured he would stick around (and "seal the deal" if you will).

Tears begin to run down your face rambling small words of agreement and love. You had never expected him to..love you that way. He was who he was, a dreadfully popular radio host, and you weren't really anything more than an assistant. People really only listened for him..yet in this moment, he was speaking only for you.

"I love you so dearly my y/n. If life without you exists I do not want to exist through it"

Who cares what they're wearing

On Main Street

Or Saville Row

1934: New Orleans, Alastor's house

The house was empty. He was gone. Fully and truly gone. It had been a year since you'd seen or heard from him and six months since the birth of your son. It didn't feel like your house, it didn't feel like your life anymore. It was all still his. His things still bled into your side of the closet, his last purchase, a book, dust encrusted and unread. The blankets and pillows set on the couch exactly as you both had left them after falling asleep to the rain the night before he left wordlessly. You found yourself sporting one of his shirts more often than your own...until eventually they didn't smell like him anymore. The whole house used to reek of his signature vanilla smell. Theres nothing left here but dust and the crooked board of the desk he insisted he could build himself "just fine".

It's what you wear from ear to ear

And not from head to toe

That matters

1936- New Orleans; ✨that shitty bar you performed at✨

"Get the fuck up you bitch"

You felt his hand tangle in your hair and pull you to your knees. All you could do was groan in pain.

"I'm so sorry it won't happen again I promise"

You mutter almost to yourself. He rolls his eyes shoving you into the counter smashing a glass in the process. Your vision blurs for a second seeing the glass shards decorating your h/c locks in a halo. You feel the blood trickle down your forehead.

"Do you think anyone else would hire you? A whore with nothing to her name and a useless ugly bastard child from god knows who?" You feel angered at his words. Insulting you is one thing, but your child?

But then it sinks in, he's right. The 30s are a sick decade, nothing progressive about them. No one else would hire you. You are lucky to work here..despite it all. You tell yourself anything is better than living on the streets. The mantra doesn't dull the pain but it makes it easier to put up with. You don't have a choice. You have a child to take care of.

"Get rid of him"

you stay silent unsure if you heard him correctly.

"Get rid of the boy. I don't care if you leave him in a box on the street or kill him yourself"

He reaches for a small silver knife under the bar's counter. He places it against your throat.

" y/n..You won't like it if I do it dearest, besides you are saving him the shame of having a mother like you. At least if he's adopted elsewhere he has a chance at a half decent life" he took a deep swig from his un-shattered glass of whiskey, looking at you with such deep distain.

You had never hated anyone the way you hated that man..But he was right. You would never be able to give your baby the best life. It would never get better because you couldn't make it better. So you found a young couple not to far from New Orleans, they took him in, and he got to be happy. he ended up living a successful life. He still is. If nothing else theres that. You know your own misery doesn't automatically allow others to be happier, but at times its what keeps you going.

Your mind is flooded with more and more thoughts. Thousands of little memories pilling themselves on top of you. Who would've thought, even deceased, even owned by Valentino, even trapped in an ever so violent place, the real plight of hell would be your thoughts. You light a cigarette and get out of the tub. You throw on a dark red robe and sit on the vanity's counter to brush your damp hair. The song continues into a jazzy interlude before it reprises again

Your clothes may be Beau Brummelly

They stand out a mile

But, brother

You're never fully dressed

You're never dressed

Without a smile

You stretch out your wings in the mirror, looking at your demonic self. No matter how many times you catch yourself in the mirror, even after ten years of this hellish existence. It still strikes you as odd. You look more or less the same. The same hair color and skin tone, although slightly more grey. The tail was just fucking weird no matter how long you had it. The song erupts into the finale distracting you from your thoughts. You begin to sing along with it, smiling softly. It really does sound like him. The same pink glow takes over the room as well as your body, Your eyes begin to glow that same soft pink, your hair floating above your shoulders.

Who cares what they're wearing

On Main Street

Or Saville Row

It's what you wear from ear to ear

And not from head to toe

You're never fully dressed without a smile

The last line comes out much quieter than the rest. A sense of sadness overtakes you once again as you realize how pathetic this whole night turned out. You'd spent the whole night "Simping", as Velvette would say, over a relationship that ended decades ago. Yikes. The static from the radio clicks up a few notches, You cover your ears at the sudden noise. You quickly reach for the dial in order to turn off the device..And then you hear it. You hear him.

"Dearest.." Its almost unintelligible through the static

You think you've finally fucking lost it. Ten years in Hell and you've officially gone "delulu"...another Velvette saying but it feels fitting.

“y/n.”

He called softly, the static in his voice heavy and nearly unreadable.

You almost didn't believe it.

"Y/n" He repeats the static fizzling out leaving his voice raw and almost natural. Fuck this was real. You didn’t respond. You didn’t know how to. You weren't sure if he could even hear you..how he would respond? Would it be worse if he did? It had been an entire decade since you fell, All of this time- he never bothered to contact you. Why now? Why so much later?... Had he forgotten about you? Did he just..die? You cant discern which is worse...that he had left you and your son and lived a long guilt free life...or that he made no attempt to even speak to you in the decade you had inhabited the same existence.

Ok that was all like exposition and shit..considering part two but I AM VERY TIRED RN

#alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #fanfic #god this is kinda ass #tumblr is my shit hole and i will scream whatever I want into the void #lol what even is this #alastor died oops #y/n #y/n fics are my last mental defense before massive decline

[thewulf]

Only You || Legolas

Summary: Request: Can you do a elf reader x Legolas where he's finally home in mirkwood after the quest? Maybe Gimli is with him and he's like 'i see why you always talked about the lassie.' or something funny that exposes Legolas for how much he really likes her. He then confeses and asks to court her or something sweet pleaseee?? My fav fluff writer! Thank u!

A/N: Thank you so much for the kind words and sweet as heck request. Really love this one. I didn't edit it too heavily so please be wary of general writing mistakes! Hope you all enjoy my fav elf imagine :)

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.9k +

TW: Pure fluff? No LOTR triggers

You had finally gotten a free evening to yourself after training for the better part of every evening for the last year with your father, Girdirion. He had been training you relentlessly after Legolas had left of the quest his father, King Thranduil, had sent him off on. That was over a year ago. You hadn’t heard much other than they had made it to Minas Tirith a few months ago.

Your father suddenly saw you as defenseless without your longtime friend at your side. Being the kings most trusted advisor, he had been trained for centuries and was a formidable fighter. It wasn’t until after Legolas had left that you had realized how serious the threat to middle earth was. Your father must had realized it too as he worked you to the bone, training you at every chance he could.

It was only after King Thranduil received word that the ring had been destroyed and his son was heading home did things begin to change. Your father still made you train but it wasn’t at every waking moment any longer. Tonight, was one of those nights that he had given you off as he had meetings to attend to with the king.

Time felt too slow as you waited for Legolas to return. He promised he would. You knew he would. He was all the way across middle earth, but you just couldn’t seem to wait any longer. You longed for you best friend, who meant much more to you than just a best friend, to come home.

As soon as you settled on your bed to begin reading the novel you had been meaning to finish there was a quick knock at your door. Who could that be? You weren’t expecting anybody at this hour after dinner. Begrudgingly, you set the book down just as you had gotten comfortable and made your way over to the door.

When you opened the door you scrunched your face in confusion, “Father? What are you doing here? I thought you were meeting with the king?”

He nodded, “I was. Then we got interrupted. There is somebody here I think you may want to see.” His smile let you know exactly what you were thinking. Legolas was home. He was back in Mirkwood after nearly a year and a half away. Sure, it wasn’t that long of a time for you in the scheme of your lifetime but it did feel like the longest year of your nearly two thousand years in middle earth.

“Legolas?” You tore out of your room not waiting for his response as you made your way to the throne room. You heard your fathers deep laughter behind you before he jogged to catch up with your lighter than air pace.

Once he caught up to you he had that knowing smile on his face. He had watched the two of you dance around the obvious feelings each other had. You never thought you were good enough to be with the kings son. He never thought you were interested in that way. But to everybody on the outside looking in it was rather obvious the two of you were destined to be together. Even if it was taking longer than expected. A thousand years longer than expected. See, King Thranduil and your father had agreed they would bless the union between the two of you should it come naturally. But neither had the heart to force it. He and your father knew as good as anybody these things had to find their way on their own, naturally. Even if it drove the two elder Ellon’s mad.

“Indeed, your elf has made it home.” He spoke as the two of you walked, much faster than normal, towards the kings room.

Before you opened the massive wood doors you turned to him with a sly smile and a hint of a blush dotting the apples of your cheeks, “My elf?”

Your father raised his eyebrows at you, “Go on then.” He pushed you forward ignoring your question.

When you pushed open the doors you couldn’t find the familiar blonde hair of your best friend. Even as you walked closer to the throne you looked all around the hall and only spotted King Thranduil who was giving you the same smirk your father just did. What were they up to? Where was Legolas? And why was the king looking at you like he knows something you didn’t?

“I apologize my king.” You bowed unsure of what else to do. When you turned to see if your father had followed you in you were left biting your lip seeing the door closed without him in the room. What was he up to? “My father said…”

Thranduil put his hand up pausing you right in your tracks, “Legolas is out in the gardens with a dwarf. A dwarf!” He sounded more frustrated than excited to his son after the time away.

But you cracked a smile instead. That was so him. He was anything and everything his father was not. The two of them could not have more different personalities. Your best friend was the one to push boundaries no elves would or could do seeing that his father was the king, “A dwarf you say? That sounds like him.”

Thranduil studied your happier than he’s seen you in an entire year expression full well knowing it was because Legolas was back from his grand quest. Thranduil rose from his throne before walking down to you. Having to look up to him because he was so tall all you could do was wait on his word.

He pointed his hand towards the entrance to the kings private gardens, “Go, you audience is rather impatiently waiting on you.” He gave you a knowing smile before retreating towards the door you had originally come in, likely to go find your father. Not wasting anymore time you made a beeline towards the doors that led to the private gardens you so rarely got to enjoy. He must have deemed it enough of a special occasion to grant access to not only you, but a dwarf as well. You knew Legolas was behind that as well. He was the only one to get the king to agree to something he might not want to do.

For the second time in a few moments, you threw open the heavy wooden doors leading out to the gardens. It did not take you long to hear the pair before you saw them. You paused hoping to catch just a brief moment between the two of them before you made your presence completely known. As you suspected the dwarf had Legolas distracted from hearing you walk out.

“Look at ya lad. Pacin’ like a horse.” The unfamiliar voice chuckled. You had a feeling the dwarf poked fun at the ellon more often than not.

You just knew he was rolling his eyes, the beautiful blonde prince he was, “I am not Gimli.”

But the dwarf just kept laughing, “Ya’ weren’t even this nervous when we rode up to the Black Gate.”

“Would you quiet down dwarf. She will be out momentarily.” That sounded just like the elf that had left a year and a half prior. It was almost too easy to get him worked up and the dwarf called Gimli certainly enjoyed playing into it.

“The little lassie has you this nervous huh?” You? You made him nervous?

Legolas let out a huff, “Gimli!” And you knew that was your queue to help spare the ellon from his friend who seemed relentless. You already liked Gimli from the sounds of it. You shut the door behind you louder than necessary to signal your arrival.

Taking a deep breath, you walked forward suddenly terribly nervous after those comments. What was Gimli playing on? Why would he be nervous to see you? You didn’t want to get your hopes up on feelings as you buried those away centuries ago. Your crush for the ellon grew slowly the first thousand or so years you knew him. Truly organic in the best way possible. Childhood friends to training partners to friends then best friends after it all. Once your training to become a healer had completed you had a sneaking suspicion all his injuries in the field were so he could come see you after some time away. He would only request you. Straight refusing the other healers help when offered. He would wait for you.

But then it just stayed like that. You thought it could grow into something more, but it dawned on you over the next few centuries his father had a say in who he courts and marries. Why would King Thranduil allow his son to court you of all elves? Sure, your father was his most trusted advisor, but you were no political gain in marriage. So you did what you did best, buried the feelings deep and bottled it all up.

The two of them quieted quickly hearing the door close. When you turned the corner you finally spotted your prince after far too long apart paired with an adorably red-headed dwarf who was staring right at you. You however were staring straight at Legolas as your small smile turned into a massive one. There he was, as handsome as ever, standing right there in front of you after too long. The longest either have you had spent apart from each other.

“Legolas.” You grinned before pulling him into a tight hug. It was when he gave you a big squeeze back that you simply just melted into the ellon completely forgetting you had an audience yourselves.

“Aye lad! You left out the detail of your Y/N being quite the beauty.” Gimli spoke up from beside you breaking the trance the two of you seemed to be under. You giggled once you pulled away from him seeing the look of horror cross his face at his friends comments.

You turned to the dwarf feeling the nerves wash away. You had the advantage here as Gimli seemed to want to torture your friend, “Hello. It is lovely to meet you. I am Y/N. Daughter of Girdirion, King Thranduil’s advisor.”

He pointed at you before narrowing his eyes at you, “Do you hate dwarves as much as his father does?”

You shook your head, “Hardly. You are actually the first dwarf I am meeting. I do not get away often.” You knelt down making yourself level with him, “You are much cuter than made out to be.” That earned a few stumbling words and a rather mighty blush to the warrior who seemed to have nothing but words. You managed to render him speechless.

This earned a snicker from your favorite ellon, “Elf got your tongue there Gimli?”

That comment must have meant war between the two of them. The dwarf cocked his eyes up to his friend, shook his head then turned back to you who was now back to standing instead of crouching, “Lady Y/N. It is lovely to finally meet you too. I feel as though I already know ya lassie.” He grinned knowing exactly what he was about to do.

You looked at Legolas with curiosity framing your face before returning your attention back to Gimli, “Do you?”

“Aye.” He nodded, “Legolas here would never shut up about ye. Y/N this. Y/N that. Y/N would love this. Y/N would hate that.”

You knew your cheeks were surely aflame with embarrassment just as Legolas’ were, “We have spent quite some time together over the years.”

But Gimli wouldn’t have that, “I think it has something to do with you lassie. The way you look. The way you dress. The way you seem to occupy his every thought.”

“That is enough.” Legolas finally chimed in giving his friend a hard stare telling him to get the hell out. But that only egged the red head on further. Your eyes bounced back and forth between the two of them before Gimli relented.

He bowed his head, “My lady.”

Echoing his actions you responded, “Gimli.” Before turning your attention back to the prince. Your eyes finally were able to scan his features. Not a hair seemed out of place. He was exactly as you remembered.

“Welcome home.” You gave him your biggest smile feeling like you could finally relax after seeing him alive and well.

He wasted no more time before pulling you into a second bone crushing hug. He had never been so forward causing you to let out a slight stutter in surprise of his actions. It was the last thing you had expected from him. But then again, who knew what he went through out there. Legolas was a strong warrior, but you knew how deeply this could impact anybody who had to go through it.

“I have missed you.” He whispered into your ear not letting his arms go from around you. He had no clue how his words were affecting you in that moment. Suddenly you felt that stupid little crush, that was surely love at this point, bubbling up from the depths of your heart that you had long since locked away.

When he pulled away after a few moments he took the time to look you over just as you had moments prior. He didn’t drop his hands from around your waist though, simply holding you loosely in his embrace. You had never felt his eyes or his hands on you heavily before or that you had noticed in the past, “I have missed you beyond words Legolas. I have spent a year and a half filled with the dread of the thought you may never come home. Seeing you here is the greatest gift Eru Ilúvatar could have bequeathed.”

It was then that Legolas knew just how deep your feelings ran for him just as they had run for you. He too had spent the better part of a thousand years being absolutely in love with you, his favorite elf, but making no indication of it. For he thought you may have eyes for someone else. He could not risk losing you in the event you said ‘no’ to his request to court you. But by the way you were looking at him he knew that was wrong. Your love laced eyes could not break away from his gorgeous blue ones.

He knew he needed to take the next step with you. Gimli was right. His dwarf friend spent the better part of the journey home convincing him he needed to ask the question he had been dying to ask you. He wanted to court you. Spend the rest of his middle earth life and the next one with you. He had never been so sure of that. The thought of courting another elleth felt wrong. It was you. It was always going to be you.

“Gimli was not lying, my lady.” Even though it came out as a whisper your ears could pick it up with no problem.

That shocked you. Was he admitting the same thing that you were? Did he have feelings for you too? “Pardon?”

He grinned seeing your dumb struck face, “You do in fact occupy my every thought. You are the reason I am here now. I fought for middle earth, yes. But for you more. Thinking of your smile pulled me out of the darkest of times

Your lips parted in utter shock at his admission, “Legolas, I…” You were at a loss for words as you processed his confession to you. Your heart was giving you away completely though as it beat faster than it ever had before.

He continued seeing as you were rendered speechless, “It was only ever you. It was only every going to be you, my love. You are my very best friend Y/N. I would never want to continue this life with somebody who was not you. It is only you. It will only ever be you.” He paused finding the courage to say what had been on the tip of his tongue for centuries, “I love you.”

Your jaw might have been on the floor at this point, “You love me?”

He nodded with a nervous expression, “More than you will ever know.”

That was all you needed before you walked forward, butting yourself right against his chest, “That is a relief my prince. As I love you too. More than you will ever know.”

Euphoria. The truest form of euphoria pulsed through your body as you too admitted what had always been so hard to admit.

His expression melted to that of pure elation. Gently he placed his hands under your chin, cupping your face so carefully, “May I begin to court you, my love?”

“I would be so honored Legolas.” Your head was turned up as you looked into his eyes for likely the millionth time. It was different this time. Charged with love and lust. Like you were looking at a new Legolas. One that you could get to know at a much deeper level.

He brushed his thumb over your lips sending shivers racking throughout your body, “Only you. Only ever you.”

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[janeyseymour]

If your still doing request, maybe Y/N is crushing on Melissa, and leaves her a secret admirer gift on Valentine’s Day, due to wanting Melissa to be happy/have some happiness after the whole Gary disaster.

stop i loved writing this one! thank you for the prompt! As per usual: not edited in the slightest and praying it's good enough!

When There is Love, There is Life...

WC: ~4.7k

Since Melissa broke up with Gary, she’s been… not herself. She’s been down and out, quiet, resigned. She doesn’t have her usual fire or bite that you’ve come to know and love. And you completely understand why. She was with Gary for a couple of years, and she was perfectly content with him (as much as that pained you to see). The redhead could see her spending the rest of her days with him as a boyfriend, life partner… whatever you wanted to label it as so long as that label wasn’t “husband”. She made that very clear. And then, like a fool, he went and ruined it despite the fact that she had told him she didn’t want to get married again. He proposed, and he lost her because of it. In that, she lost a piece of herself.

It didn’t help that Valentine’s day was just around the corner either. Perfect timing for a breakup that would be humiliatingly public and change her life more than she was willing to admit.

So when she isn’t quite herself, you understand why. Everyone at the school understands why she’s been different. 

Your colleagues have all offered different supports for her. Barbara was there when she needed a glass of wine, Jacob and Janine were there when the second grade teacher wanted to cook for someone, Gregory had taken her to a kickboxing place where she could get her aggressions out, Mr. Johnson brought in bunch of old plates and bowls for her to destroy in any way she would choose (she chose her emotional support baseball bat), even Ava was able to help by taking her out to a club to dance. 

What had you done? Not much else other than offer her gentle words of support and provide small, sweet gestures to remind her that she had a village to help take care of her. You promised her that it was all going to be okay. You gave her small, shy smiles when you felt that she needed one, and she had even come to you for a hug one day when she was in desperate need of physical touch and her work wife had taken off a bit early to attend a doctor’s appointment with her husband. If you noticed that she was dragging, you would take it upon yourself to make another pot of coffee and bring her a mug of the warm beverage just the way that she liked it prepared. 

You were there for her in ways that were small to you, but they made the biggest differences to her. While she surely appreciated the things that everybody else did for it, it was a bit of a one and done kind of deal to offer their supports initially, but your kind and thoughtful actions carried on as the days passed on. It made her feel taken care of in a way that she hadn’t felt in a while, even when she was with Gary.

“Any plans for Valentine’s day?” Jacob asks the group one day during lunch, and you can see the way that Melissa’s face immediately turns solemn. You knew that her and Gary were going to go out to a nice steakhouse on the fourteenth, but that plan was obviously shot now that they weren’t together.

“Gregory and I are going out to BoneTown together since we’re both single,” Janine jumps in. “It’ll be… nice.”

“Nice,” Gregory hums. “Yeah.”

“Zach and I are going out to this one new tofu spot that I’ve been dying to try,” Jacob grins. “It’ll be good. Then we’ll probably head home and have a few glasses of wine before retiring for the night… What about you Barb?”

“Gerald and I are going back to that one restaurant at the airport that we liked so much last year,” Barbara tells the crew. “Melissa, you know you’re always welcome to join us.”

“I ain’t gonna crash your Valentine’s Day plans with Gerald,” she sighs softly. “I’ll Probably finish off a bottle of wine on my own. Don’t got much else to do these days.”

You lay a gentle hand over hers and attempt to pour as much comfort and love into that small gesture as you can. “I don’t really have plans either,” you shrug. “So if you want, we can have Galentine’s day and finish off a bottle of wine together.”

The redhead gives you a sad smile. “Thanks for the offer, hun.”

As the days leading up to Valentine’s Day come and go, you see the way that the rest of your colleagues get small little gestures from their partners. It’s sweet- it isn’t just one day to go all out and celebrate love, but instead a reminder that love is always around and that there should always be an appreciation for your partner through life. Even Gregory and Janine have gone back to flirting, and he’s doing small little things for her.

As Barbara gets a small bouquet of flowers delivered to her in the break room, you see the way that Melissa’s body deflates.

“Wow,” she whispers. “Those are gorgeous.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. You really don’t know how to make her feel better through this one, so you simply top off her coffee with a gentle squeeze of the shoulder.

She reaches up and sets her hand over yours with a sad, resigned, smile.

When lunch is over, you head back to your classroom with your kids and give them five minutes to regroup themselves before you begin your lessons again for the rest of the day.

And in those five minutes, you research different flower arrangements that you could possibly send to the redhead who is so down this season. You’re able to find a site that you like, and you bookmark it for later when the kids have gone home and you actually have time to go over the different selections that this place has to offer.

The rest of the day goes by relatively normally, with the slight hiccup of Jamal spilling his juice all over himself and having to go down to the nurse to get another change of clothes while you get on your hands and knees to wipe up the mess with the paper towels that never seem to absorb anything but only spread the liquid around instead. With a sigh, you simply throw a rather large wad of paper towels over the area and give up, telling your students to be especially careful in this area.

The kids leave for the day, giving you lots of hugs and thanks for teaching them that day, and as you see them out, you see the way that Melissa’s kids are doing the same to her. It warms your heart to see that beautiful smile that you haven’t seen quite as much of lately. She looks up, making eye contact with you with this emerald eyes of hers, before giving you a gentle smile and a nod of her head. She’s telling you she’s okay, at least right now. You give her a thumbs up with a bright, warm smile of your own before returning your attention to the last few stragglers in your classroom. 

Usually, the redhead and you leave the school everyday almost right after the bell rings to dismiss the final wave of students; but not today. Today, you have to stay after school to look over the different flower arrangements that you could potentially get Melissa. You settle down back at your desk in the front of your room and start looking at the pre-made arrangements before you hear a gentle knock on your doorframe. You quickly flip the tab to your emails before glancing up.

“Hey,” Melissa says softly.

“Hey,” you smile at her.

“You staying late tonight?”

“Yeah,” you sigh dramatically. “I have a bunch of emails I have to reply to, and I’m prepping for this round of conferences,” you lie. You’ve already finished most of your conference preparations, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“Oh.” Her face drops, and you immediately feel bad. “Well, have a good night, Y/N.”

You stand from your chair and stretch, as if you’ve been sitting there for a while, even though she had seen you not ten minutes ago standing at your door with the kids. “I think I can spare a few moments to walk a pretty lady to her car though.”

You notice the way that her cheeks turn pink and she tucks a few hairs behind her ears shyly- it’s so unlike Melissa. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I insist,” you tell her as you make your way over to her and take one of her many bags for her.

The two of you walk out together and make small talk through the parking lot, exchanging a few words about your days, before you get to her car. She unlocks the door, and you open the door for her, gesturing for her to get inside. “My lady.”

“You’re too kind,” she says softly as she sets her purse into the passenger seat. You hand her her other bag and allow her to get situated before closing the door for her too.

“Have a good night, Mel,” you tell her. “And seriously, if you need someone tonight… because I know lunch was a little rough, please don’t hesitate to text or call. I always have my phone on me, and I’ll be there for you.”

Her eyes almost well with tears. They look a little glassy as she nods silently and turns her car on. “Thank you, hun. Have a good night too.”

With that, she pulls off out of the parking lot, and you head back into the school to continue looking at the different flowers.

You find two relatively small bouquets of flowers that you absolutely adore, but you want to do something special for her. So, and maybe this is overkill, you order three different arrangements: two smaller ones, and then one bigger custom one. She deserves to feel loved and special. You’ll give her the two smaller ones in the days leading up to Valentine’s Day, and then on the big day, she’ll receive the specially made one for her. You just hope that she doesn’t find out it’s you who is giving her these flowers. 

The next morning, you pick up the first flower order, and it’s perfect. It’s small, and sweet, and you know she’ll appreciate it. You print out a little note to go with it, knowing you can’t handwrite your note or she’ll figure you out right away.

You deserve to feel special, your note reads, you tie it to the bouquet with a little ribbon that you had brought into school, and you set it on her desk before she comes in for the day. Then you head down to the break room to brew a pot of coffee like you usually do and wait for the rest of your colleagues to make their way in.

Everyone has joined you at your selected tables to watch the news and drink your coffees when Melissa comes in, the flowers in hand.

“Wow, Melissa! Those are beautiful!” Barbara grins when she sees what the redhead is holding.

“They really are,” she looks back down at them, admiring them. The money you were spending was well worth it to see the happiness and spark come back into the redhead’s eyes, even if just for a few seconds. “I don’t know who they’re from though.”

She settles in next to you, her mug of coffee already prepared and waiting for her next to you, and you glance at the flowers.

“Wow, Mel,” you say softly. “They’re really pretty.”

“Was there a note?” Jacob asks.

“There was,” Melissa fiddles with it in her fingers, having untied it from around the flowers. She reads it out loud before sighing. “But there was no name attached to it.”

“Sounds like someone has a secret admirer!” Janine giggles. “Oh my goodness, this is so exciting!”

“Maybe it’s Gary trying to win you back,” the energetic second grade teacher suggests.

That makes Melissa think. Maybe it is. And you are not about to give yourself up, so you just set a gentle hand on Melissa’s shoulder and squeeze it gently.

“Whoever got those for you made a good choice,” you say softly. 

The next morning, you execute the same thing that had yesterday with the other smaller bouquet you had bought, and again she brings them into the break room with her to watch the news. She looks so happy, it melts your heart. You’re so glad you can bring her some sort of happiness through this tough season of hers, even if she doesn’t know it’s you who is giving it to her.

“You deserve to feel loved,” Melissa reads the second note. “ But again, no name.”

And finally, one Valentine’s Day, you bring in the biggest bouquet that you had purchased. You can’t hide this one under your coat though, so when Mr. Johnson sees you walking in, you know you’ve been caught.

“Mr. J,” you plead as the two of you walk in the direction of Melissa’s classroom. “Please… don’t say anything. She doesn’t need to know it’s me.”

“I think she’d like to know who it is,” the janitor states.

“But I don’t want her finding out,” you say quietly. “I just want her to be happy and feel loved during this season, especially with the breakup being so new for her.”

“What do I get out of not telling her?” he questions.

You roll your eyes. You knew he would ask this question. “I’ll get you a gift card to buffalo wild wings- twenty bucks.”

“Make it twenty-five, and you got yourself a deal.”

“Fine,” you groan. “I’ll run out and grab it tonight, and you’ll have it by tomorrow, okay?”

“Oh, hell yeah!” he pumps his fist in the air victoriously before leaving you to do your thing.

This bouquet already has a special note written with it, so you can just drop them off in her room without having to prep anything. You set the bouquet on her desk again before making sure the little card is visible. And then you practically sprint off in the direction of your own room. You really do have to get things prepared in there for the class party before you make your way down to the staff room like you usually do.

When you get there, everyone else is already there, including Melissa- and she has her flowers with her and the note.

“Y/N!” Janine calls you over. “You’re just in time to hear what Melissa’s secret admirer has to say about this bouquet!”

With eyebrows raised, you make your way over to the coffee pot to pour yours and the redhead’s coffee and make it up.

“When there is love, there is life, and you deserve it all,” the redhead reads softly, a smile on her face. 

“Oh, that is so kind of whoever this is,” Barbara notes.

“Seriously! Those flowers are absolutely stunning,” Janine states. 

“And I love that this person didn’t just go for a dozen red roses,” Gregory tells her. “All of these flowers mean different things, I don’t know if the person who got this for you knew that or not, but…”

“What do they mean?” Melissa’s interest is piqued.

Shit. You forgot Gregory loves any sort of plants- of course he would know the different meanings behind the flowers you picked out for your little crush.

“Well,” he says as he takes a closer look at the arrangement. “The yellow roses signify friendship, while the white ones mean purity. The yellow roses that turns red at the ends shows friendship turning into love. The pink carnations show that this person will never forget you, while the daffodils symbolize rebirth and new beginnings. Hydrangeas show gratitude and deep understanding. And finally, the baby’s breath that is used to surround all of the other flowers shows innocence and hope.”

“Wow,” Jacob breathes softly. “That’s so… romantic.”

“If the person knew that’s what those all meant,” you say from your place next to Melissa. You knew all of this- you had done your research.

“So, what do you think this person is trying to say?” Janine asks, rocking back and forth on her toes.

“If I had to guess,” Gregory scratches the back of his neck. “This person is trying to tell Melissa that they started off as friends, but it’s turned into a pure and innocent sort of romance? Like they have a deep understanding that this is probably not the best time, but they will never forget her, they have hope for the future, and they are just grateful to have Melissa in their life in any way possible.”

Fuck. Gregory just said everything you were trying to subtly convey to the redheaded second grade teacher through flowers. Fuck. If she finds out it’s you… you’re screwed.

They don’t find out who you are today, and come the end of the day, you and Melissa walk out together as you usually do. She is happy, even doing a little dance as she leaves the building, holding the flowers closely to her. You’ve taken it upon yourself to carry the rest of her things for her, despite her protests.

“You have to make sure those flowers get home safely,” you chuckle as you wave her off. You place her things in her car before giving her a gentle pat on the back.

“I’ll see you a little later?” she asks.

“I’ll be there to enjoy some delicious Italian made by my favorite person,” you tell her. “Am I bringing red or white tonight? Maybe a bottle of champagne?”

“Chianti,” she tells you. “And maybe a dessert wine for after?”

“You got it,” you grin at her. “I’ll see you at 5:30.”

When you knock on her door, you can hear her having a very loud conversation over the phone.

“No, Gare,” she’s protesting loudly into the phone as she opens the door and invites you in. She holds up one finger, quietly requesting for a few minutes. “No! I do not want to get back together!”

“Then why did you call?!” he shouts back.

“Because I was tryna figure out who got me these flowers, and you’re the type of guy to make some grand gesture like this to get me back!”

“Well, it wasn’t me, but it sounds like you want to get back together!”

“I thought I made it clear, I didn’t!” She hangs up angrily before hurling her phone halfway across the room. It lands on the couch before bouncing off and hitting the floor.

“You okay?” you ask, although you very much know the answer.

“Fuckin’ men,” she shouts as she retrieves her phone and stuffs it into her back pocket. She takes a deep breath before looking at you. “I’m better now that you’re here.”

“Still haven’t figured out who your secret admirer is?” you tease.

“No,” she grumbles as she leads you into the kitchen. It smells amazing. “And it’s drivin’ me up a damned wall. Whoever this person is, I just want to know so I can thank them.”

You almost reveal yourself there, but you remember what Gregory had said earlier in the day, and you don’t want to make a fool out of yourself right now. So you just shrug and gesture for her to open the wine.

The two of you have a nice, quiet night in eating delicious food, drinking good wine, and then watching a few romance comedy movies together. It’s nice, it’s sweet, it’s pure… it’s domestic the way that she has a blanket draped over the two of you while you lay your head in her lap and she feeds the chocolate covered strawberries she had made for dessert.

But finally, you sigh. “I should probably get going with school tomorrow.”

She frowns. Melissa is clearly enjoying tonight with you, and you have to throw in the towel because of work tomorrow. “Yeah, I guess I should probably head up for the night too.”

You sit up with her help and start to grab your things. She watches as your figure sways back and forth, somewhat from the wine and somewhat from not having stood for hours.

“You okay?” she chuckles.

You shake your legs out. “All good. Don’t worry about me, Mel.” You make your way over to her once you have your bag around you. She stands and embraces you for a few minutes, and you allow her perfume to wash over you.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mel,” you whisper as you pull away.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, hun,” she smiles at you. “Thank you for coming over.”

“Of course,” you beam back at her as you head for the door. You make your way out and are halfway to your car before you hear the front door open again, and she’s calling out to you.

“Text me when I know you’re home safe?”

You spin around to give her a thumbs up with a goofy grin on your face before you climb into your car. She watches you pull off, and you make sure you remember to text her when you get home.

“I still don’t know,” Melissa says quietly in the break room the next day. “Did you see anyone Ava?”

The principal is drinking her hangover elixir, sunglasses still on her face. “Girl, you know I get here way after you guys… otherwise I woulda been all over this secret admirer stuff before today.”

“How hungover are you?” the redhead eyes the woman.

“Valentine’s Day? More like Valentine’s week. You know this entire week I’ve been wined, dined and-”

“Please, God… don’t finish that sentence,” Barbara cuts off Ava. The principal just smirks.

“But, if you really are curious, maybe we can see what flower company was delivering these to your room to figure out who this admirer is,” Ava grins.

“And how the hell are we gonna do that?” Melissa looks at her incredulously.

“Girl, I got cameras all over this joint,” the hungover woman grins. “Come down at my prep. I’ll be less hungover, and feel more inclined to help.”

“Thank you, Ava,” the second grade teacher looks mildly impressed with her boss’s willingness to help. “Hey, has anyone seen Y/N yet today?”

“Her car wasn’t in the lot when I pulled in… weird,” Jacob hums.

You rush in frantically. “Hey, hey,” you wave. “Sorry I’m late… got a flat tire, had to change it on Girard, and then got stuck in some traffic.” You make your way over to the sink to clean off your dirty hands.

“Girl, you ain’t late,” Ava laughs. “You’re still twenty minutes early.”

“Why were you on Girard?” Melissa questions. “You usually come from the opposite direction.”

The truth is, you had to go pick up that gift card you promised the custodian for keeping your secret, but you can’t tell her that.

“Late for me,” you sigh, ignoring the redhead’s question. “You know I like to get here at least an hour in advance to prep for the day. Now, because I’m late, I’m gonna have to skip out on watching the news with you guys, but let me know if there’s anything worth hearing about.”

You slip your lunch into the fridge (leftovers from last night) before dashing out to your classroom.

On your way to your room, you hand Mr. Johnson his promised gift card, and he grins. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” you tell him earnestly before going into your room. Only then do you realize that you entirely forgot to pour yourself a cup of coffee.

You get that mug of coffee about twenty minutes later, after the news segment is over and your colleagues are heading back to their classrooms. You hear a gentle knock on your doorframe, making you look up. Melissa is standing there with two mugs filled to the brim with coffee.

“Thought you might need this,” the redhead chuckles as she hands the mug to you. You let your fingers wrap around it, and the warmth radiating from the cup and from the sweet gesture sooth your somewhat frazzled soul right now.

“Thank you,” you smile at her before taking a sip.

“Of course.”

Your morning goes by with no hitches, and you silently thank God for that as you walk your children down to the music room. You don’t think you could handle another crisis today.

Melissa gives you a small smile and wave as she also takes her class to their special- gym class. You hear her tell her little eagles to behave before she heads into the office. That’s odd; the two of you usually spend your preps together, but maybe she has a meeting with Ava or has to make copies and she’ll be down to your room after.

“Hey,” the redhead knocks on Ava’s door and makes her way in.

“Girl, you gotta see this,” the principal leans back in her chair and turns the monitor for Melissa to see more easily.

When the redhead gets to where she can see the screen, Ava already has the security footage up and on the camera that is in the hallway to where your rooms are. She sees you heading into her own classroom- the first small bouquet of flowers in your hand. The principal fast forwards to the next day around the same time, and there you are with the second small bouquet of flowers. And then she fast forwards to yesterday, and you’re chatting with Mr. Johnson while holding the gigantic bouquet of flowers.

Ava turns the sound on, and the redhead can hear you pleading to not give you up.

“Wow,” Melissa whispers. She bites her lip nervously. “Thank you.”

“I got you girl,” Ava tosses her hair over her shoulder. “What you gonna do about this?”

At that, the redhead purses her lips in thought. She doesn’t really know. “Thank her, I guess.”

As Melissa makes her way down to your room, she really doesn’t know what she’s going to do. But before she knows it, she’s at your door and making her way into the classroom. You look up from your computer to give her a bright smile.

“Hey,” you smile as you bring your coffee cup up to your lips and take a sip.

“Thank you,” Melissa says softly as she perches herself on your desk.

“For?” you raise a brow.

“The flowers,” she smiles as she reaches forward and squeezes your shoulder.

You blush deeply. “H-how?”

“Oh,” the redhead laughs quietly. “I have my ways… Ava has security cameras and we saw you putting them in my room.”

“Dammit,” you grumble.

“That was really sweet of you,” Melissa tells you quietly. “Thank you. Seriously.”

You turn a violent shade of red. “Uh, yeah. No problem. I meant what I said in my notes: You deserve to feel loved. You deserve to feel special. When there is love, there is life, and you deserve it all.”

“If you meant all that,” Melissa hums. “Did you… mean all the things Gregory thought you meant?”

If possible, you blush even more, feeling it spread from just your face to your ears and your chest.

“Did ya?”

You nod sheepishly. “But I know with everything that’s happened recently… and I really am just grateful to have you in my life, however that is.”

She gives you a gentle squeeze of the shoulder before leaning in and pecking your cheek softly.

You feel that spot burning, but you couldn’t be happier.

“I do like you, you know,” she says softly. “You being here is part of the reason I broke it off with Gary.”

“What?” your jaw drops.

“You’ve always been special… but I just don’t think now is a great time,” Melissa admits quietly.

You nod solemnly.

“But I think that with time,” she says quickly. “If you’re willing to wait… although I know that isn’t really fair of me to ask of you.”

“I’m willing to wait,” you whisper. “You’re worth it.”

Next

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary

[builtbybrokenbells]

CAPITAL VICES | WRATH

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

Masterlist

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 21k (oops)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello, beautiful.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That would solve it all, right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What would make you happy, you had no idea.

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

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

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

😈

Who the fuck is that?

😈

?

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

😈

Answer your fucking phone y/n

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They are indeed.” You agreed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course I do.” You scoffed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you checked your phone yet?”

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

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

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

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

“You’re a genius.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does he make you happy?” He asked.

“Yeah,”

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

“I think I do, but I don’t know how.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jake, what the-“

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

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

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

“Hey, man, I don’t mean-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Had you pushed him too far?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s what I thought.”

Damn him and his ability to see right through you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“One chance, Angel.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why did you want him to stay?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

TAGLIST: @sacredjake @profitofthedune @thewritingbeforesunrise @sacredthethreadgvf @klarxtr @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @freefallthoughts @jaketlove @clairesjointshurt @ageofbajabule @dannys-dream @earthgrlsreasy @starshine-gvf @brujamagik @gvfmarge @ignite-my-fire @twistedmelodies @gretavangroupie @alwaysonthemend @edgingthedarkness @gvfpal @sinarainbows @writingcold @starcatcher-jake @literal-dead-leaf @takenbythemadness @gretasfallingsky @hsfallingsky @freyjalw @itsafullmoon @lyndz2names @blacksoul-27 @i-love-gvf @vikingsisthenewsexy @mp0801 @mindastreamofcolours @indigogvf @sparrowofthedawnsworld @jordie-gvf @cassy-face @highway-tuna @creadliz98 @dancingcarbon @do-it-jakey-baby @lallisonl

#cue evil laughter #love you guys 🥰 #capital vices #greta van fleet #jake kiszka #gvf #sam kiszka #jake gvf #sam gvf #danny wagner #josh gvf #gvf fic #danny gvf #jake kiszka series #jake kiszka gvf #jake kiszka blurb #jake kiszka angst #jake kiszka fluff #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka smut #gvf smut #gvf fluff #gvf angst #greta van fleet angst #greta van fleet fluff #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet smut #builtbybrokenbells

[jyeshindra]

Astrolovations (I)

Hey there! Just noting down some things I observe and connections I make regarding astrology. And yes, I made up a new word. Deal with it.

You can always spot an Aquarius by that look in their eye and a half smile. Like they're judging you, studying you, and experiencing you all at the same time.

More feminine Aquarians give me cool-girl vibes. They're detached and kind of removed from things, but super chill at the same time. Friendly and open but they have and will express their boundaries.

The more masculine Aquarians can fit that stubborn, know-it-all Aquarian stereotype a bit better. These more unhealed Aquarians are so difficult. Fixed air? Saturn and Uranus dominance? This is not a person who will follow other people's rules. A frustrating energy for sure. I dare say it's giving asshole. LOL

Sagittarius and Gemini make a good duo, but these signs are likely to solely be intellectual. Neither sign is very good at feeling. They aren't emotional! And they may talk about emotions...sure! But don't be fooled!

The most important thing to a Sagittarius Moon? Their freedom! They won't do well in relationships where the other is constantly telling them how to live their life and making critical analyses. Remember this sign is half-man and half-beast. That lower half wants to frolick and go wherever it wishes! If it feels pinned down or caged, it'll fight back or just disappear.

Taureans are always listening. These people are super wise and super knowledgeable but they won't be obvious about it like a Sagittarius or Gemini. It reminds me of how earth has this ability to hold things and fossilize things over time. Taurus kind of has this energy. I think it's the receptivity of Venus in Fixed Earth. AND that Scorpio opposition. Both of these signs are super observant and notice the little details. Their intuitive knowledge is gained from absorbing so much over time and letting that information marinate. It's how they both are able to create such amazing foundations for themselves.

I do believe in cuspy energy. But only cause Sidereal exists. A lottt of people are two different signs in two different systems. Cusps feel like the same sort of situation to me. But also...if you have your birth time you know which sign you fall under, which destroys the whole cusp argument.

I actually do kinda identify more with my Vedic chart than my Tropical chart. I see both energies, but my Pisces Sun/Scorpio Moon makes so much sense to me. Especially once I learned I'm Jyeshtha!

Speaking of Jyeshtha...the voices of these natives are usually distinguishable in some way. I think this may be Mercury-ruled nakshatras in particular (Ashlesha, Jyeshtha, Revati) but I can only feel strongly about Jyeshtha with this one. I mean Charlie Sheen...Donald Trump...even Nicki Minaj. The voices are so distinct. Even my Jyeshtha professor has a pretty distinct, raspy voice.

The way trauma has made certain aspects of my chart invisible to me. Part of what makes this practice so interesting to me is how much of my chart is waiting to be lit up by my own future. There's mysteries inside of me I haven't even met yet.

I think the last four zodiac moon signs (Cap, Pisces, Sag, and Aqua) can deal with their emotions in a very existential way. It's almost like they're thinking about their emotions in relationship to bigger/large concepts or constructs. Their perspective is already geared towards a "bigger picture" so to speak. They'll often handle their emotions in an impersonal way too. Aquarius will rationalize it, Capricorn will likely fall into pessimism or suppress it, Pisces may wallow and succumb to existential dread, Sagittarius will also intellectualize or avoid it altogether!

That's all for this round of observations! Stay tuned for the next edition.

#astro observations #astrology #horoscope #natal chart #zodiac #astro notes #astrology signs #astro community #astrologer #sagittarius #aquarius #fixed signs #natal astrology #jyeshta #jyeshtha #revati #ashlesha #vedic astrology #cusps #moon signs #gemini #taurus

[andioop1852]

An idea for Task 141 x male reader. (Platonic)

What if male reader used to work for some bad guys organization cause he needed the money. There has been times where task 141 were so close to getting him but he escapes.

Male reader is quiet, introverted, and pretty friendly.

He ALWAYS wears a mask that looks like a wolf, and he never takes it off. No one knows how he looks behind the mask.

Time passes by and he no longer works for them anymore (due to Task 141 destroying the organization) and lives a normal life as a stripper. (Still with the same mask) and has a husband.

Until one day, Laswell is like “we need his help” and Task 141 are not happy but they didn’t have a choice. Male reader is panicking behind the mask, overthinking that it might be a trap, while Task Force 141 just want the mission to end quickly so they don’t have to see him again.

The mission is a simple ‘get back the stolen data.” During the mission, male reader made his own plan which shocked the rest. I imagine that male reader picked the options that were ‘useless’ to make a way faster route. He didn’t need to kill anyone. Imagine their surprise when they reached the room to see male reader already done with the computer. This kind off earned the respect of the Task Force.

During the car ride, male reader would just be staring out the window and Soap asks why he was in with the enemy organization in which he says “It’s personal…”

Someone asks about the mask: “…I dunno, I just feel safe wearing it. And my fans seem to like it. *smirks*”

Price asks him to join the task force (jokingly or serious) but he turns it down, saying that he wants to live a quiet life with his husband.

Someone asks about how long they were married: “It’s gonna be 2 years in about a week.” “Congrats Lobo.” “…Thank you.”

Edit: If any of the guys refer to male reader as sergeant or any soldier name, he’ll respond “Just call me Lobo, I don’t work for the military.”

Also if you want to include the husband, but have no idea what he’ll be like, I got an idea for ya. Name is Freddy, he’s a househusband who works as those people who draw comics on their lifes. He’s soft spoken, friendly, a bit shy, and says sorry a lot.

Edit 2: I just thought of something, what if reader did got captured and arrested, but got bailed out thanks to his husband? Maybe reader left a note for his husband that there’s a good chunk of money in a certain spot that can bail him out.

#simon riley x male reader #cod x male reader #mw2 x male reader #soap x male reader #call of duty x male reader #captain price x male reader #john price x male reader #gaz x male reader #task force 141 x male reader

[sootical]

Permanence

->Wilbur Soot x Reader (hinted but never explicitly stated) ->No use of Y/n ->I tried to be as gender neutral as possible.

*Hurt, minimal comfort, hopeful ending TW: Su*cidal ideation, Self destructive thoughts and actions, SH mentions/references, depression, lots and lots of depression. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK Summary: You are stuck in a multi-month long depressive episode, and it's gotten so much worse. You're on your last leg, and you need someone to help you. Good thing best friend(?) Wilbur and his band are there to help :] Word Count - 2.4k

Wilbur Soot. Twitch streamer turned famous musician, heartthrob—you get it. He’s everything anyone could want in a partner. Trust me, I would know. He’s been my best friend since form. And since then, he’s only ever been kind and considerate and just overall an amazing person. What a guy right? With his stupid brown hair that covers one of his eyes when it’s outgrown. Stupid brown eyes that have just the right amount of dark and light brown in them. It’s stupid of me really, to ever hope for a future with him that involves us being more than friends. I can only hope though, right? He’s up there, in the states, singing his heart out on a stage. While I’m stuck, on the other side of paradise–more like purgatory–lamenting on how many people adore him. I’m feeling sorry for myself, rotting away in bed at 2 in the morning. It’s not like I have to work in three hours–whaaaat nooooo… A knot develops in my stomach at the mere thought of leaving my bed. Maybe losing my job isn’t so bad. Wilbur has told me time and time again he’d pay me to edit for him. But I could never make him do that. Never would I take advantage of him like that. I’d feel like more of a burden than I already do. The thought of him having to support me financially makes me want to vomit. It makes my skin crawl, so it’s okay if I waste away. If I end up rotting away in my bed. It’s fine. At least then I wouldn’t be able to consume too much of Wilbur’s time. Taking up too much of his time has always been my biggest fear. To me, it came true a long time ago and I’m finally reaping what I sowed. It sucks really, how I thought I'd have a shot. Just for it all to blow up in my face. Now he’s somewhere in America–having the time of his life. Good for him. Bad for me.

Reaching over, I grab my phone. My coworkers probably hate me. I keep asking them to cover my shifts so I can rot in bed for another day. It’s been like this since–September? It started off just once every few weeks. Now, it being almost December, I’ve not gone to work in over two weeks. What’s the point anymore anyways? I can’t do this. I can’t do anything. Deep down, when I started doing things for myself–I knew I wouldn’t be able to do this. That was two years ago. I guess I’m finally breaking.

Pulling the duvet over my head, I try not to think about how my breath smells, and the uncomfortable way the oil sticks to my face. I shove my head into the pillow. Trying to block out the sounds of people existing below my apartment. It’s so much easier to rot away when people don’t rely on you. When you have no reason for existence. I don’t want to die. But at the same time I don’t want to live. I’m too much of a coward to do anything about it, so I lay and wait. I wait for some omnipotent being to strike me down and judge me for how I’ve managed to mess up any and all relationships I’ve ever had with anyone. Me and Nikki haven’t spoken in almost a year. Me and Wilbur haven’t even seen each other in months My family doesn’t talk to me.

I wish I could say “The world is fucked and everyone hates me.” But that’s not the truth. The truth is I am my own undoing. I have destroyed everything I’ve worked for. Any relationships–platonic and romantic–have fallen through because of my own emotions and insecurities getting in the way. It’s not fair for anyone. Well, anyone except for me. I brought this upon myself. My phone is the only thing lighting up my face. I looked at the time. Suddenly it’s six in the morning, and I’m late for work. The thought makes me want to cry, but I can’t. I can’t tell if it’s apathy—or dehydration. 

I call my boss. She answers. “Where are you?! I haven’t seen you in weeks! I’m worried about you hun, do you need me to call someone?” She opens, sounding both relieved and shocked I even called. I clear my throat the best I can, swallowing saliva feels like eating sandpaper. “I uh..I was calling to let you know I won’t be coming back. I’m quitting. And I’m sorry for not putting in my two weeks. It’s not–” Something foreign is bubbling up in my throat, I force myself to swallow it down. “-It’s not fair to you. And I’m sorry.” I whisper, hanging up shortly after.

I feel terrible for worrying her. I feel terrible for upsetting her. I feel terrible. I am terrible. I’m a parasite. I always have been. Mooching off of others in order to help myself get by. My thoughts fall back to Wilbur. I’ve been mooching off of him for however long we’ve been friends. I want him to be happy. I don’t want him to feel like he needs to be my friend to keep me alive. But at the same time–I can’t do this anymore. I can’t look myself in the mirror and tell myself it’s me. I can’t. I’m not the person I thought I’d become. I’m not the person I thought I was. I’m useless. My phone rings again. I go to decline it, I can’t. 

Wilbur’s face greets me. His contact photo, the two of us at the amusement park I helped them film for Tommy’s vlog channel. We’re smiling. His arm over my shoulder, and my head on his arm. I remember that day. Wilbur held me for a bit while Tommy and Phil were off filming a different part of the vlog with Russ. I was overwhelmed and so was he, so we took the time to chill by the snack stands. He got tommy cotton candy, and we split popcorn even though he couldn’t really taste it. We spent a good time just taking funny pictures with each other. I remember that day, it was a great one.

Tears breach my eyes before I can stop them. A sob ripping through me, I force my face into the pillow to muffle it. The ringing stops. My tears don’t, and that makes me feel so much worse. My chest convulses as my sobs reverberate through the room. I’m a mess. I’m laying in my bed, rotting. Wasting away and feeling sorry for myself. Everything is terrifying, every breath I take reminds me of how I’m alive. Reminds me of how I can’t escape the feeling of impending doom that washes over me. I’m going to die here. I’m going to die. I was never permanent. 

I knew I couldn’t do this. I’ve been lying to myself, little lies, white lies. To convince myself everything was okay. That it was fine for me to fall in love, it was fine for me to believe I wasn’t just taking up space. That I wasn’t slowly getting tired. 

Contemplating whether or not cut myself some slack–but ending up just cutting myself loose. I lift the duvet from my head, staring at the ceiling. My eyes flick to the ground, clothes and food everywhere. Some of it’s moldy. It makes me feel worse about myself. Turning my head, I look to my PC. I should sell it. Someone else would be much happier with it. I haven’t used it in a while anyways. I can’t take care of any of the stuff I have can I? 

My phone rings again, this time I do answer. 

“Oh my god–” I hear multiple people take a sharp breath in. I can’t stop myself from making a small noise of confusion. “Hey..Your boss–called us.” I recognize the voice to be Joe. I lift the phone, checking the caller ID. It was Wilbur again. “Wil—?” It hurts so bad to talk, I haven’t used my voice this much since the end of October. I hear a choked noise and whispers. “We’re gonna—come over there okay? The tour ended last night, no gigs for a while. Wil’s been missing you y’know.” I can’t tell who said that, “I–no. Sorry.” I don’t know why I said that. I don’t know why I hung up either.

Maybe deep down I did want them to help, I do want their help. But logically–It’s for the best.

I swing my legs over the side of my bed, cringing at how my clothes hang off of me. My back hurts something awful. I’m so tired. 

Yet I stand on two feet and walk to my bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror, I don’t recognize them. My hair–too long and too oily for it to be mine. My skin is pale and the bags under my eyes are so dark they could rival a racoon. 

It’s then that my legs decide to give out. I can feel my knees split as I hit the tile. I’m so tired. I look down at the sweater I’m wearing. It’s one of Wil’s. I can’t remember when I put it on. I can’t remember a lot of things recently. Like when this got so bad. Or when my arms started to sting. My eyes are heavy, I can barely keep them open. Maybe a nap wouldn’t be so bad.

When I wake up it’s to voices around me. I’m laying on something warm–It’s moving. I can’t find it in myself to open my eyes. My breathing picks up, and I hear an intake of air accompanied by a hand on my forehead. My eyes are shooting open in fear before I’m trembling. He’s above me, looking down at me like I could break.

I look around, there's two other people. I can barely make them out. Joe and Ash. It’s hard to think. It’s so hard to think. 

“There you are..” Wilbur whispers, his pointer finger gently stroking my cheekbone. “What happened to you love?” I can’t tell if it’s his tone, or the fact he looks so broken. But I can’t stop my eyes from watering and my body from turning into him, hiding myself away. Embarrassment filled me, they’d seen it all. The moldy food, the dirty clothes. They probably saw the abundance of mail I'd gotten as well. People are walking out the room. Not Wilbur, he stays. He stays and makes me look at him. “Here’s what’s gonna happen, I’m gonna help you shower, and they’re going to clean and get you food. Okay?” My eyes widened. I shake my head so quickly it hurts. His face falls, he looks down at what I’m wearing. His face falls even more. “Love…” He whispers. “I don’t–I can’t. Don’t make me.” I whisper. Wilbur wipes away my tears and shakes his head. “No. You’re going to get clean, eat, and then you will sleep for however long you need to.” He lifts me like I’m nothing.

He sets me on the toilet, turning to the tub and turning on the faucet. He waits for it to get warm before he’s plugging the drain and helping me get undressed. He brushes the hair from my face, he frowns at the sight of the back of my head. He looks down at my arms before I can see him clenching his jaw. “We’ll work on the matts too.” He picks me up again, placing me in the tub and going to shut the door. He grabs a towel from the cabinet, as well as a washcloth. He swipes the comb from the counter.

“I’m sorry.” I can’t help but whisper. He sighs. “I know. But it’s alright. We were worried about you.” Was all he said before he’s dousing my hair in water. He keeps a hand on my forehead, stopping the water from getting into my eyes. And with that, he applies conditioner and starts to de-matt my hair. An hour and countless tub refills later, my hair is de-matted and I’m clean. Feeling slightly better too. Wilbur gave me the crewneck he was wearing for comfort, before planting a kiss on my forehead and leaving the room to grab other clothes. The sounds from the outside are a lot less foggy now. I can hear the boys outside bickering and talking. “Are they okay Wil?” “What happened?” “From your face, I can tell it wasn’t good.”

I can’t help but stand weakly, the towel wrapped around me. I look in the mirror. I look a little more like myself. I touch my face, I look pale. I am pale. My hair is a bit longer now. I don’t smell bad anymore. I do feel better, but I can’t help but think I’m making Wilbur do this.

Wilbur reappears, he looks at me and smiles. He hands me the clothing he picked out before leaving the room once again, though he stands just outside the door.

I dress quickly. Slipping on Wilbur’s crewneck once I have my shirt on. I walk out, giving Wilbur a small smile. “You uh–You didn’t have to do this.” He takes my hand and leads me through my now clean apartment. “I did. Because if I didn’t–If we didn’t, you’d be dead right now, or you’d have killed yourself soon.” He says, sitting me down at the table that’s been cleared off. “Now, be honest. When is the last time you remember eating something?” He asks. 

My face drops. That’s the thing–I can’t. “Uh–Tuesday?” I say, like I even know what day it is, his face falls. “It’s Friday.” He deadpans before going into the kitchen, he comes back with Ash, Mark, and Joe. They each have both in their hands. Wilbur has two.

“It’s just soup. Easy on the stomach.” Joe pipes up before sitting on my right, Wilbur sits on my left, and Ash and Mark sit across from me. “We don’t need to talk about things right now, no one is going to make you. But you need to talk to someone soon. Maybe not us, but someone.” Wilbur said, putting his hand on my knee. “Yeah. I think I can do that.” They smile, I eat my soup, and for the first time since September–I feel permanent. 

#wilbur soot #fluff #wilbur mcyt #wilbur #angst #x reader #wilbur soot x reader #Wilbur Soot x Reader angst #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot x you #heavy angst #hurt/comfort #Minimal comfort #lovejoy

[margueritedaisies]

I just love drawing families of fictional characters, its interesting to think of how each sibling would look. I try to make them different from one another but at the same time maintain familial similarities.

Jinzha resembles their mom, Muzha their dad, and Nezha's a good mix of both.

Also get ready with some sibling dynamic rant, mostly relation HCs by me.

Enough with the parent child dynamic

I want sibling dynamic. Where these three come to terms on what happened between them. Specifically Muzha and Nezha's interaction is the one I want to see.

Tbh those two's fates in the myth reminded me of Hyakkimaru and Tahomaru in Dororo.

Like Nezha and Muzha had so much potential to gain solidarity with each other. Because Jinzha could never relate to them as the ignored or unwanted child. Muzha has that middle child stuggle fr.

Muzha is the one so eager to gain their fathers favor trying to meet Jinzha's level . Nezha wants nothing from his father so he makes himself worse.

Muzha's frustration with Nezha is that Nezha is rebellious, disrespectful of their dad

While Nezha's frustration to Muzha is that Muzha is so blinded and always struggling to achieve something so futile. Deep down he hates how Muzha is suffering this way but he wouldnt speak of it. This is why they always at odds.

They should make a movie focusin the Li brothers fr

Other than overusing the actual myths.

Fuck the ending from the original myth, they didnt even consider how the children felt from all the abuse. Not even mention of Muzha's death.

Enough Ao Bing, what about Muzha???

And the moral lesson is just about "respecting elders"?? The story still had so much to wrap up. How can you call this a family if there is some sort of hierarchal system. A family requires empathy to maintain that connection.

Tbh its kinda realistic

Families and siblings can still inflict trauma from each other .And a story based on reconcilation is a good way for this to be about family counselling.

I wanna see the "what ifs". It could be each brothers own story of self healing from the trauma caused on each other.

Maybe Im getting my hopes up too much, but it could be a development for them to forgive, start anew and an opportunity to connect and catch up on what they missed on each other.

Edit:

As for Jinzha he also has his own struggles as the eldest. Keeping up the station as the golden favored and perfect son. But its Asian family dynamics, which means hes in a lot of pressure. But he is mentally and emotionally strong. The brothers always busy on his studies ,future responsibilities and training to be able to spend time together. Their timetables seemed to be planned out to always not meet. Jinzha especially had less freetime. And if he ever came across any of his brothers, it was only one of them never both.

He doesnt mind being a buffer for the other two feuding but it does stress him out that it will never change. But he'll make sure to give time and attention to both of them as much as he can.

Other than keeping up his fathers expectations he also doesnt want to fail as a big brother to them🥺😭

Muzha and Nezha can see his efforts so they do not dare hold anything against him. Muzha still keeps his competitive attitude when Jinzha's around but accepts any offered kindness from Jinzha. While Nezha enjoys his company when he gets the chance.

Also because I tend to hold on to this little bit of bonding😭🥺🥺Jinzha trying to be the best big bro

Thinking of the contrast in the future where Jinzha was tasked to torture Nezha destroyed me😭😭😭What did Jinzha even feel while he had to do it??

Also here some Nezha with his hair down again

#li nezha #li muzha #li jinzha #nezha #nezha fanart #nezha lmk #character hc #sibling dynamics #li brothers #investiture of the gods

[writingreadinglurkingandsmirking]

It's So Hard To Watch (Everything I Want) - reality tv star!Rafe Cameron x Reader

I Feel You Underneath My Tongue (Next To Every Word That I Should Have Said): Part 1, Part 2

Summary: You and Rafe had a long history together. The love that you shared wasn’t something that you’d ever questioned–not even when you guys were on a break from your relationship. But, suddenly he’s ghosting you. And the next thing you know? You’re getting a call from an MTV producer saying your ex Rafe is a contestant on Are You The One? and they need to come in for the ex’s episode of the show. And well, you couldn’t say no, could you?

CW/TWs: angst, female reader implied, cursing, toxic relationships afoot, a brief description of physical violence, implied previous physical violence, verbal harassment/abuse, not the most edited/reviewed

Words: 8.4k+

Note: Yes I used pretty boy blonde-era Drew for my header what about it!! And also? I used Jeff Probst because I thought it would be funny OBVIOUSLY he’d never host a reality tv dating show goodbye. So I started writing this a long time ago, forgot about it, and just revisited it to finish ‘er up. Now that said, uhhhhh I think I mayyyyy do a part 2 where Rafe gets back home because this is uhhhhh depressing and I Need closure. But! We’ll see!

Rafe Cameron had never been one you’d see going on a fucking reality TV show. No. Not at all, in fact. You had known him for the majority of his life. You’d dated the idiot for three years too. After the breakup, you went no contact for your own sake—he was impossible to be around and not fall back into his arms, no matter how much you hated it. Rafe hated it more, though. He tried desperately in the nearly year and a half since your break-up to get back together. You watched as he genuinely worked on changing himself and improving.

But then, suddenly, four months earlier he’d gone radio silent. You’d be the worst kind of liar if you said that it hadn’t hurt you. The abrupt cut-off had made you realize just how close you’d been to taking him back. Apparently, that wasn’t in the cards, though. Apparently, he was entirely over you. No matter how much you utterly fucking hated that. No matter how much it fucking destroyed you after those first two weeks of realizing that he wasn’t going to be coming back.

It got even weirder, though when a fucking MTV producer reached out to you. We’re with MTV’s Are You The One? they’d explained. You’re the ex of one of our contestants Rafe Cameron. Literally what? Would you be interested in getting a trip to Hawaii and being part of the experience? And again, unendingly now, what the actual fuck had Rafe gotten himself into? And why the fuck was he trying to have you be dragged into it?

All of the emotions that flooded you when that phone call started were…violent to say the least. And you were sad too. Part of you had hoped that Rafe would get the fuck over himself and call you again. Part of you hoped that you would’ve been able to give it another shot. But no. Apparently, he’d decided it’d be much more fun to just, you know, go on a stupid dating show with MTV and find his alleged perfect match. It made you sick to your stomach.

Are You the One was a show that felt like it was ripped from your worst nightmares. At least if Rafe was a contestant on it with someone else. The show had a dating algorithm that helps quantify compatibility for twenty-two people. It uses, according to the producer, in-depth interviews, some questionnaires, and then compatibility tests too. So, in the end, the contestants are set with their ideal match. With “their one” apparently. So, the unaware participants have to then get to know each other and undergo tests all while living with all of each other. And if, in the end, all eleven couples were able to figure out who they were after all eight weeks were up then they’d walk away with one million dollars and, potentially, the future love of their life.

The thought of Rafe meeting…

Naturally, you accepted the producer’s offer.

Topper, one of your best friends, even now–even after everything, told you how stupid of an idea it was to agree.

Even so, he booked his own tickets to come to Hawaii with you.

And that was how you found yourself at an insanely gorgeous resort in Oahu a month later with little to no information on what was actually going on or what would be expected of you. The only consolation was that you were far from the only ex here. It looked like every contestant had one person here for them. You were, however, one of the only… normal-seeming ones. Not for the first time since landing you cursed yourself for going along with this stupidity. Sure they wouldn’t really have another ex to call for Rafe that was actually an ex but that was their problem, not yours. Besides, if there’s one thing MTV can do it’s lie about their reality television shows. Even so, waiting in their stupid green room area altogether for whatever stupid instructions were to come next felt…well, stupid.

You heard your name called over your shoulder and you turned your head. “Hey, pretty girl. Now who is your ex again?” asked an extremely tall, well-built, and objectively gorgeous man next to you. He was grinning at you, the look in his eyes displaying an all-too-familiar attraction. But, if there was one thing you weren’t going to be doing? Fucking any of these weirdos. But, a little flirting couldn’t help. “Was it…was it Ryan?”

“So close. Rafe,” you corrected, giving him a half-smile. “It’s Alex, right? And your ex was Thalia?” He nodded. You hummed, shrugging. They’d shown you the audition videos they’d been given and Thalia seemed…interesting. “She looked super beautiful.”

“Yeah, beautiful and an absolute fucking nutcase,” he said seriously, even as he grinned. “She was always doing some dumb shit. Trying to accuse me of cheating on her when I was at work. Trying to fuck my brother when I told her that we were done.”

You let out a low whistle. “Damn, so you got a score to settle then,” you mused, leaning back in the chair to look at him. “I can respect that. I’m sure the producers love it.”

He nodded. “Oh they do,” he confirmed. He nudged your shoulder playfully and then winked. “Sorry, but I might be dragging your man down because of it. Word on the street is they’ve been paired up the past two weeks or something.” Your heart squeezed in a sad pain and you dutifully ignored it. “Don’t trip though, I’m gonna set him straight on what’s up with Thalia.”

“I don’t care,” you immediately replied, voice sharp and entirely unconvincing.

He barked out a laugh. “Yeah, sure,” he agreed, rolling his eyes. “You’ve been sitting here alone in your own little world instead of talking to all of us so I got a feeling you’re a little wrapped up in all this. And in him.” You shook your head in denial, rolling your eyes at the very true accusation. He chuckled again and this time you raised an eyebrow at him. “So what? Did y’all like break up a week before he came on or whatever?”

Clenching your jaw, you reminded yourself that this was just a stranger making conversation. There was no need to blow up on him. That was Rafe’s thing, not yours. “We broke up like a year and a half ago,” you said plainly.

“After how long?” he asked curiously.

“We’ve known each other since we were kids. We started on and off hooking up in…like high school—which our friends hated, of course. We went to separate colleges, but like…we just couldn’t stay away from each other. And by the time my senior year of college came? We were visiting each other practically every other weekend. Our friends had to inform us we’d been dating for like two years already at that point,” you said, shrugging. “But after he officially asked me and we made it exclusive…official…whatever? We were together for a little over three years.”

His nose wrinkled. “And y’all still run in the same circles and all that?” he asked, a sympathetic grimace on his face. You nodded. This time, he let out a low whistle. “Yeah, that’s fucked. Known each other your whole damn lives and he still couldn’t post up for you. That’s crazy. You’re way too beautiful to be treated like that.”

“I know,” you said dryly.

“Nah, sorry, sorry,” he said, winking. “I don’t mean it, like, to flirt with you. Promise.” You raised an eyebrow and he laughed. “Okay, only a little.” He sobered up, rubbing his hands together. “Still. Must be hard. Can’t even have that separation.”

You hummed. “No, we did. After the break up for like a month I didn’t talk to him. Avoided all our mutual friends, the whole bit. But then I remembered how much I fucking loved him regardless of our relationship. The…the issues that we had were…I didn’t leave him because I didn’t love him. I left him because I couldn’t keep enabling him. Remembered I didn’t want to lose that. So, like…I started to talk to him again. He was making genuine…good steps toward being a better man. One that he claimed would be worthy of me or whatever. But then five months ago or so he just…stopped talking altogether. Wouldn’t answer a phone call, text…nothing. So I just…took the hint. Next thing I knew I was getting a call from a fucking MTV producer. And now here I am. Talking to you.”

“You want him back?” the guy asked curiously. You glared half-heartedly at him. “No, no. I’m just asking because I fully plan to hook up with Thalia tonight, I ain’t gonna lie to you. So I’m just saying that door’s gonna be open.”

“All I want from him is to know why he went on a dating show and dragged me into it,” you corrected. He smirked at your side and you held up a hand in warning. “Don’t you say a damn word. What was I gonna do? Say no to a free Hawaiian vacation? Fuck that. I’m gonna stay here and enjoy myself.”

“Then go home to eat a metric ton of ice cream and cry, right?” he asked casually.

“Fucking Christ, dude we just met!” you said. “Why you dragging me like I’m the one dating your ex?”

He laughed. “Oh, no, baby girl, I’m gonna be dragging your ex. You? I’m just teasing,” he said.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “I mean, hey, feel free,” you said, inclining your head.

That seemed to end the conversation between you both. Just in time, it seemed because a producer then came and started herding the group around like cattle. Each of the exes was briefly obsessed over by assistants who made sure our outfits—ones they chose, of course—hair and makeup were all perfect. Only when everyone was set were you approached by another production assistant.

“Alright listen up!” the stern-looking young woman called. “We’re going to be sending you out in pairs. So whoever your ex is matched with currently is who you’re going to be going out with. We’re sending you out and leaving a minute gap between to get the reactions of the contestants. The plan is to send you out in order from the newest matches to the longest matches.” She glanced down at the clipboard in her hands. “So first we have the newest match Amelia and Jacques, so…Jordan and…also Jordan line up.”

You watched as male Jordan and female Jordan stood next to each other. On and on it went. Ten couples called before you. You felt your hand trembling at your side with unexpressed emotion and you drummed at your thigh in an attempt to stop it. Ten couples called before you.

“I told you they were together, gorgeous, didn’t I?” Alex whispered in your ear as you stood side to side.

“Last couple, and the longest…Rafe and Thalia,” she said. The words stung and settled in your stomach like lead. Your feet moved you into the line at the end before she’d even finished saying yours and Alex’s name. Alex stood next to you, his hand brushing the small of your back, bringing you back down to the moment, snapping out of the distraction. “Alright. From the top. First two, my Jordans, you’re out in two minutes. I’ll be right back to get you.”

“How you feeling hearing that?” Alex whispered to you. “It’s been six weeks in that fucking house and they’ve been together like all of it. I’m fucking pissed.”

“I don’t know why I came here,” you admitted after a moment.

He barked out a laugh. “Well, too late to back out now,” he said dryly.

“Yeah,” you whispered. You folded your arms across your chest watching as the first group was taken out then the next then the next then the next. Abruptly after the last before you were taken out, you looked to Alex. “Do I look okay?

“What?” he asked, surprised.

“Do I look okay? I can’t walk out there if I don’t look okay,” you replied anxiously, wringing your hands in front of you.

He looked you up and down grinning. “You look super fucking hot. Don’t worry about that,” he said easily, slinging his arm around your shoulder, jostling you gently as if you were lifelong friends and hadn’t met two hours earlier. “Now buck up, gorgeous. We gotta get our game faces on. We gotta go.”

As if summoned by his word, the production assistant came back for you two gesturing you two out into the fray. You kept your face carefully neutral, noting Alex doing the same at your side. You exited, eyes doing anything but looking in the direction of the contestants. You moved onto the pedestal where the other exes were, Alex’s hand touching your lower back as you both moved up. You gave him a half-smile, recognizing the reflexive protective gesture. You could feel burning stares on you and you hated it. Evidently, someone didn’t like that.

Eventually, having no other choice, you turned your eyes towards the contestants. The first place your eyes fell was on a taller woman, with perfectly tanned skin, gorgeous dark hair that practically hung to her ass, and—speaking of her ass, boy did she have a good one. Thalia. You could tell because your eyes drifting just to her side was your Rafe. No. Just Rafe. Her Rafe, actually. He looked relatively at ease by his posture. But, both of them were glaring at you and Alex.

“So,” came the voice of the host. “All of the exes are here.”

MTV had managed to bag Jeff Probst of all fucking people. Appropriate, you supposed considering that the show was modeled after Survivor in that there are competitions and voting involved. Much lower stakes all around, physically at least. Everyone nodded at Jeff’s words and you couldn’t help but try to pretend you were on the Survivor jury instead of standing here in this objectively awful situation. There was a low murmur from the contestants’ side. But, on the opposite platform, everyone was silent.

“Wow…pretty silent here,” Jeff commented. “Especially considering I know how loud all of you can be on days like this.” He looked pointedly over at the contestants. “So…how are we feeling? What’s it like seeing your exes standing here looking at you as you stand next to who you hope to be your perfect match?” He made a point of looking over at us and then back to the contestants. “Thalia, why don’t you tell us how you’re doing with all this.”

The girl next to Rafe took a dramatically deep, shaky breath. You watched as Rafe’s hand moved to her back, rubbing it soothingly. He looked down at her, a soft sort of look in his eyes and you felt nauseous in a way that you didn’t expect. You carefully steadied your breathing and focused your gaze just past them. She took a moment, turning towards Rafe and murmuring something that you were sure the mic packs on them could pick up even though you couldn’t hear it. You watched as Rafe replied quietly and then pressed a quick kiss to the side of her head.

It spiked your fucking blood pressure.

“Thalia,” Jeff prompted.

“Sorry, Jeff,” she said, a sugary sweet voice watery and wavering. “It’s just…it’s hard. To see him. And to see her too, honestly. I mean…I mean knowing what he did to me. Knowing what she did to Rafe. Hell, knowing what everyone else’s exes were like too…this just…it’s awful, honestly. We’re here to try and move forward and still somehow it feels like all we’re doing is sliding back.” She fanned at her eyes.

“You seem really upset,” Jeff said, nodding. “How does it…how is it that the mere presence of your exes could cause this much stress for you? Do you not have confidence in your relationships? Do you think this is going to cause problems…have the cracks started to show?”

“Fuck no!” Thalia snapped. “I just don’t want to even see this bitch. I don’t want to see her even fucking breathe in Rafe’s direction. I don’t want her ass to even speak on him. I know that the way she treated him and it doesn’t matter how fucking pretty she is on the outside I know what an ugly, horrible, frigid ass bitch she is on this inside! I don’t need that fucking energy around and Rafe sure as shit doesn’t! It’s not my fault she fumbled and lost him! He’s a fucking catch and I’m not gonna act like I’m not glad about it. He’s my man now and she’s just gonna have to deal with it. That’s it. The end. I don’t fucking care! I don’t want to see her stupid ass face.” She scoffed. “And you know me, Jeff. I’ll fucking beat someone’s ass if they fuck with the people I love.”

You didn’t particularly care about the girl’s words. You didn’t know her. She was an attention-starved brat…or rat if you were going to give in to the more malicious thoughts in your mind. She wanted to be famous…as famous as you could get from trashy reality TV, at least. Her words didn’t matter. Rafe’s reaction certainly did though. He just clenched his jaw and looked up towards the sky and then cast his eyes down. Still, his hand stayed on her back, rubbing it soothingly. That boiled your blood, admittedly. And, it seemed that the girl’s words actually pissed off Alex more.

“Watch your fucking mouth, Thalia. God, you don’t even know her,” he said snappily.

“Oh, and you do? You don’t fucking know her or the shit she’s done. Don’t even talk to me,” she snapped back in reply.

“Just like how these people don’t know all the shit that you’ve done!” he replied. He turned his eyes to Rafe. “And you? This girl? Who you claimed to love for years and years and years and have known like your whole life, what? You’re cool with some girl you met a month ago talking like that? The fuck is wrong with you, bro?”

“Don’t fucking call me bro,” Rafe said, a lazy, hard-edged smirk on his mouth and a glint in his eyes that displayed the carefully concealed rage just beneath the surface. “And you need to watch your fucking mouth coming in here talking like that to anybody.”

“Yeah, okay,” Alex scoffed, rolling his eyes.

Jeff cleared his throat. “Emotions are already running high,” he noted. He said your name, turning all eyes towards you. “You haven’t even said a word and yet you’ve been the center of attention since you came out here. So, what’s all this like for you?”

You hated the feeling of the lights and the eyes all on you. It made you want to twitch. Instead, you kept your face in a mask and shrugged. “Don’t particularly care,” you said blandly.

“Yeah because you’re an emotionless robotic bitch,” Thalia near-yelled.

“Thalia. Let’s let her talk,” Jeff said, his words a suggestion but tone a command. He turned back towards you, gesturing at you with his hand. “Please, go on. Tell us why you decided to come if you knew something like this might happen.”

You gave Jeff a saccharine smile. “Always wanted to visit Oahu,” you said, biting back the sarcasm that threatened to overcome you. The other exes laughed in amusement and agreement at the sentiment but sobered up when Jeff called us back to order.

“Nothing else? It didn’t have anything to do with a desire for closure? To feel like you had to warn someone else about Rafe? To see how you’d measure up to this potential new perfect match he has? These are just some of the reasons that exes on past seasons have given for their appearances,” Jeff pointed out.

“Nah, definitely not for closure…I don’t think this place is where you’d get something like that. You’d kind of be an idiot to try with some people, I’m sure,” you said. Then, you shrugged. “And I have no desire to warn other people about Rafe. Everyone’s got their own red flags and no one listens to advice anyways so there’s absolutely no point.” You hummed, lips twitching up for a moment then flattening out. “And yeah, I don’t care about whatever potential little…perfect match or whatever there is. I don’t compare myself to other people, even when they apparently desperately want me to. So…yeah, Jeff. It really just is the trip to Oahu. And hey? Who else were they gonna call for Rafe?”

Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies.

It was so much more than that.

You’d die before admitting it.

“Interesting,” he said. “And, not to make things uncomfortable. But let’s address the elephant in the room. You’ve looked at Rafe maybe twice since you came in here. What’s it like to be with him in a situation like this? What’s it like to have Alex next to you defend you from his own ex’s words all while Rafe doesn’t say anything?”

You let out a short laugh. “Yeah, I don’t usually stare at people, so I certainly don’t feel any sort of need to do so now. And I’m not particularly…surprised by him not defending me. It’s never been his style,” you said simply. You saw him tense slightly and roll his eyes but you ignored him wholly. You glanced over to Alex. “It was nice of Alex to defend me, I guess.” Thalia scoffed and you resisted the urge to launch yourself at her and punch her. You were better than that. You weren’t going to be the asshole here. It was going to be clear that it was her. You were determined. “But I’m a big girl. I can fight my own battles.”

Jeff nodded. “Well, you haven’t reacted to what most people here would consider a fight being brought directly in front of you. Thalia has made it extremely clear how she feels about you. She’s also made it extremely clear what the people in this house apparently think about your past relationship with Rafe. What do you say to all of that? Is that not worth fighting for?”

“That isn’t a fight,” you dismissed. “That’s people who don’t know me or the person that they’re getting…some form of information from. I don’t care how much trauma dumping you do in six weeks. You’re not gonna have a clue who you’re dealing with. I promise you that. So I don’t care what she’s saying at all—I’m never gonna have to see her again after this. I have people who care about me at home. I have people who know me. These people?” You look at all the participants and shrug. “No offense. I’m sure you’re all great in the real world. But you mean absolutely nothing to me. Your opinions mean less than nothing to me. Your opinions about me? Nothing. Your opinions about the relationship that I had with Rafe? Nothing.” You looked back to Jeff. “You want me to be honest, Jeff? I don’t think that the ‘fight’ being brought to me or whatever you wanna say is even worth this conversation.”

Jeff smiled and nodded at you. “One of the most mature responses that you could have in the face of someone being so openly hostile to you a minute after you even come out here,” he said. He looked over at Alex then. “And you, Alex? Do you feel the same?”

“Absolutely, Jeff,” he said, nodding. “I don’t know these people and I don’t care. They’re not why I’m here. But nah, unlike her I am gonna tell the facts of how Thalia is. Because I’m not cool with her walking around here acting like she’s a victim when she knows damn well she isn’t one.” He scoffed. “And knowing that she’s potentially a match with her ex or whatever? I’m sure she feels at least a little the same.”

“What do you mean by that?” Jeff coaxed.

Alex shook his head. “Just saying, Jeff,” he said vaguely. “I’m not gonna get into it yet. That’s for me and them to talk about later.” The nebulous reference clearly being either Rafe or Thalia…maybe even you. You truly didn’t care about that.

“Fair enough,” Jeff said. He clapped his hands together and turned his body towards the participants. “Now, Rafe…you’ve been very quiet so far today since you found out what was going on tonight. What’s going on in your mind?”

Rafe was silent for a moment. You watched as Thalia turned her body towards him placing her hand possessively on his stomach, stroking it as if trying to be soothing and missing the mark entirely. He didn’t spare her a glance. You could tell he was overwhelmed to some level and his brain was shutting down, only letting him focus on one thing at a time. You could see it in the slightly dazed expression and the pinched turn of his eyes.

“I don’t know Jeff. It’s always hard to see people who meant the world to you and then just…didn’t anymore,” Rafe said vaguely. You actively had to remind yourself to keep breathing evenly so your breath wouldn’t hitch in your throat at his words. “I mean, like, for all of us. These are people who were important in our lives somehow. They’re representations of problems we have in dating. All that. So yeah, it’s like seeing…I don’t know…your mistakes personified for a lot of us.”

You couldn’t help but recoil at that slightly, taking a half-step back like you took a physical blow. The words seemed to register with the rest of the crowd. Murmuring happened on both sides, some of disapproval of his words, some of approval of what he’d said. You took a deep breath, making your face neutral when you felt a girl next to you wrap her arm around your waist. You took the opportunity to use it to ground yourself, wrapping your hand around hers in turn. As much as you hated that you needed it, the support was appreciated.

“Wow,” Jeff said. He glanced at you, saying your name, and then back to Rafe. “Do you think she’s a mistake, Rafe?”

“She taught me a lot about myself,” Rafe said. “And I’ll always appreciate that. But not all relationships are supposed to last. Some of them are just to help us learn more about what we want in a relationship and nothing else.”

“You didn’t answer the question,” Jeff prodded. “Do you categorize your relationship with her as a mistake?”

Rafe looked at you and you met his eye head-on, refusing to be impacted.

You could tell what the answer was going to be before he even opened his mouth.

“Yes,” he said steadily. Immediately, he looked away.

You felt like someone had reached into your chest and tore your heart out. You were suddenly glad that your hand was wound around the girl so no one would see how you were shaking. Your face you could control. Even your tears. But your hands? No. All you wanted now was to go back to your room and call Topper and tell him that you were going to crash with him in Kona sooner than you planned. Crying to your best friend for comfort was the only thing that would even potentially work. But that would have to wait until the night was over. You would be strong until then. You had to.

The muttering amongst the groups on either side grew louder once again. You kept your brain fuzzy and uninvolved, not letting yourself sink into the sticky discomfort of your feelings that would swallow you and encase you in pain like a fly in fucking amber. You couldn’t do this. Not right now.

“And how does that feel?” Jeff said, the question directed at you. “Hearing Rafe call your relationship a mistake? What’s that like for you? Do you feel it’s a fair representation of the relationship you had with him?”

You paused for a moment, looking towards the ground and then back up, a fake smile turning your lips upward. “Well, I’ve known Rafe more or less my whole life. He had a real temper on him when we were younger. So, it’s nowhere near the worst thing that Rafe has called me,” you said. “And besides, he can call me whatever he wants. It’s his right—we live in a free country, right? Whatever. I’m sure that there are things that I’d call him too if I thought it’d make me feel better.”

“And what are those?” Jeff asked, eager to hear some rebuttal from you, clearly.

“Nah. I’m not doing that,” you dismissed. “I feel no need to say that shit. It’s useless.”

Drug addict. Cokehead. Alcoholic. Asshole. Entitled. Liar. Petty. Mean. Fucking mistake. Those were just a few of the descriptors that came to mind.

“Alright. Let’s move on then,” Jeff said, neatly moving the conversation away from you, looking at the girl who had pulled you to her side in a show of support and was still. “Valeria, I see you here with your arm wrapped around her. Supporting her when you met her less than a few hours ago, really. In a show of support that, sometimes, we don’t even see from our own contestants. You hear her ex-boyfriend say something you deem hurtful and you immediately step in to be kind to her. That’s something that I doubt just anyone would do. Clearly, you’re a person who cares deeply about others. What’s it like to see Patrick, a man you loved, in a situation like this where he’s putting love and attention into others?”

“Well, Jeff. I just think it’s a shitty thing to do. You don’t talk about people you loved like that. Not if you really loved them. Because if you and your new girl or whatever are gonna gang up on her that’s fucked. So I’m gonna step in. As for Pat? He’s always been a very…free-spirited person with his affections. That was never gonna change. So…I sincerely hope he can find some form of happiness,” the girl said easily, the words falling off her tongue while she continued rubbing your back.

The conversation portion with the whole cohort of participants felt fucking endless considering you knew it would take up less than ten minutes of an episode. But, eventually, it mercifully was coming to an end. You could tell Jeff was winding it down, wrapping it up, and ready to move on. But, then he hit you with a curve ball.

“Now, for the true purpose of today: communication. You’ve all matched up for this week. You and your potential match are going to sit and spend two hours with your exes. You’re all going to have a conversation getting to know each other,” Jeff said. “Spend some time actually getting to know each other. Talk about the problems that you had in your failed relationships. Talk about the things that worked. The things that you admired.” He gestured towards Rafe. “Or the things that you feel made the relationship a mistake. This is going to be a game changer in terms of figuring out if you’re a perfect match or not. We only have two couples that you haven’t locked in yet. Just two couples you assume are perfect matches, and even them we don’t know. So? Pay attention. This could be one of the last obstacles between you and one million dollars. After that? You’ll spend an hour talking to your ex. Alone. Try to have a meaningful conversation. Then? You’re going to spend the night, all of you, all of your exes, partying poolside. Take the time then to talk to other exes of people who might otherwise be your perfect match. Make it a good night.”

Your blood felt like it had turned to ice in your veins. You had to spend an hour talking to her and to him. Well, at least you’d have Alex with you, you supposed. But, it still was terrible. This felt, frankly, like a heinous punishment that you didn’t deserve. You forced yourself to appear unmoved.

“I know we’re all excited,” Jeff said. He clapped his hands. “So let’s do this. Let’s split you all up.”

The director called cut then, and the atmosphere changed. Only slightly. The participants all relaxed marginally, posture loosening. But, the exes all remained tense. Valeria rubbed your shoulders next to you. “You okay?” she asked. “That was shitty to say.”

“I’m good,” you said, nodding. You gave her a weak smile. “Thank you though. It was super nice of you. I appreciate it.”

She nodded. “I meant what I said. No one deserves that,” she said. “Good luck with your conversations. They both seem real fucking peachy keen to be around.”

You bit back a laugh but Alex, evidently listening, didn’t bother. He laughed openly. “Yeah. Definitely gonna be a fun few hours for us for sure,” he agreed. He winked at you then. “Promise I’ll try to not fight your boy, gorgeous. But if he runs his mouth like that, I’m gonna shut him up.” He playfully tapped your chin, tilting your head up for a second. “And do shut Thalia’s shit down. She has no right to be talking. And I know she’ll just be running her fucking mouth.” You nodded jerkily, not wanting to even comment on it.

Eventually, you were all ripped apart. You were given a brief rundown of the hour and how long you’d actually have cameras on you, where they’d be, hard conversational limits, and everything in between. They set it up so that you’d be in a room with only cameras set up, not operated by cameramen. It would just be you four. God fucking help you all.

“It’s gonna be fine,” Alex said, trying to offer some form of comfort, his hands folded across his chest as he sat back on one of the couches. Rafe and Thalia were about to be brought in and you both were stressed in different ways. And all you could think about was the cameras set up around the room, recording every last piece of this.

You simply nodded, unable to speak. You felt in your bones that this was going to be absolutely fucking awful. But you’d play nice. You’d pretend you didn’t want to scream. You were surprised, however, when Thalia and Rafe entered the room. Thalia walked in, with a smile on her face, and plopped down on the couch across from Alex and you, throwing her feet up with ease. Rafe followed behind, sitting next to her, letting her practically lay over him.

It was gonna be a long fucking two hours.

An even longer night after that.

Fuck, this was a mistake.

“What the fuck are you two doing here?” she demanded.

You didn’t even flinch at her harsh tone. You were working extraordinarily hard to not react with malice to her stupid words or her earlier actions. It was honestly hard. The silence on your part seemed to only serve to anger her more. You didn’t react to her anger and instead stared blankly at her. Alex, next to you, clenched and released his jaw, openly rolling his eyes at her.

“You really don’t get what’s going on here, do you?” she asked rudely. Still, you offered no response and she shook her head disdainfully at you and Alex. “I really don’t care what you and Rafe are or what you do today. You don’t mean shit to me. And at the end of the day? I know where his priorities are now. One day wouldn’t change that.” You tilted your head, still looking at her as if watching paint dry. “You’re not gonna fuck up a million dollars for the people in this house.”

Unable to help it, Alex barked out a laugh. “Fuck, they get Jeff in as a host and suddenly you think this shit actually is Survivor, huh? Fucking crazy,” he said, rolling his eyes. “None of the exes give a fuck about the people you’re with. Or your stupid ass game or any of you, actually.”

Thalia smirked at that. Your hands twitched with the urge to strike her, but you stifled it. “Oh, I definitely believe that,” she cooed, mocking.

“Thals,” Rafe said, sounding tired.

“Baby,” she said immediately, voice fake and innocent. You wanted to scream. Rafe said nothing further. Thalia set her eyes on you then. Her eyes were hard and calculating. “You especially. No one wants you here.”

You leaned back, folding your legs in front of yourself. You crossed your arms and drummed your fingers against your arm. “In what world do you think that I care what you want?” you asked dryly.

Thalia scoffed. “You’re such a cold, heartless, inconsiderate bitch,” she spat.

“Wow, those words mean so much from someone who doesn’t know me at all,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be filling some stupid little challenge now so you can try to get a million dollars for everyone in this house who probably doesn’t need it?”

“You’re just mad that you,” she tried.

“That’s where I’ll stop you,” you drawled, leaning sharply forward. “Shut the fuck up. You sure run your mouth a lot for someone who I am sure is just desperate to be painted as a victim when the editors go through and make their little arts and crafts project with their footage. And that’s all fine and well and good. Really, sweetie, oh I’ll be rooting for you. I will. But, here’s the thing. My emotions? My life? All that? Not for fucking you. And not for a fucking camera.” You gave her a cold smirk, leaning back again. “Far be it from me to make your boyfriend’s mistake worse, right? So you keep your fucking hands to yourself and you stop running your mouth like you’re hard and we won’t have a fucking problem tonight. Then? We never have to see each other again.”

“This is so fucked,” Alex said. He cleared his throat, eyes leveling on Rafe, interrupting the conversation between you and Thalia. “So, you a cheater too just like her, bro? Or are you just gonna be the next guy she tosses aside?”

Rafe’s jaw clenched. “Don’t fucking talk to me,” he warned.

Alex cut his eyes over to you. “See that’s why I said I’d drag your fucking ex, gorgeous. Because this guy? Something ‘bout his face just…pisses me the fuck off.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Thalia snapped.

“Thalia,” Rafe said, voice sharp. “Don’t make this harder.”

“Oh?” Thalia demanded, rounding on him. “Is this hard for you?” She was sneering at him now in a way that set your teeth on edge. Something about the way she spoke to him reminded you of Rafe’s dad. And suddenly this match made you feel physically ill in a completely different way than it had before. You looked away, hand clenching around your knees. “Well, I’m just so sorry about that, Rafe. How dare I have emotions! I really must be the issue, huh!”

You glanced over at Alex. “She talk to you like that a lot?” you asked him bluntly.

“She don’t know how to talk without being a bitch,” Alex said icily. “And evidently that hasn’t changed.” You bit your tongue to keep from saying well then neither has Rafe’s self-esteem or trauma responses. Alex snapped his head back over to the other pair. “Hey, good to know you haven’t learned how to talk to someone else if you’re so highly evolved Thalia.”

That, for whatever reason, seemed to set off the volatile girl more than she already had been. She looked about ready to launch herself at Alex. Seeming to recognize this, Rafe grabbed her arm gently as if to refocus her. It was something that he’d done to you a fair few times when you’d been together and someone had done something particularly aggravating and you needed to calm down. This proved to be a…bad move. Thalia did indeed refocus. All of her rage onto Rafe, that is. The second that you saw her slap him, though? It was your turn to see white.

You weren’t fully connected to your body as you moved, reacting to the sight. You were on your feet, physically dragging her by her stupidly long hair off of Rafe and throwing her away from him. She seemed stunned that you’d done that. She then seemed pissed you’d done that. So, naturally, her stupid self tried to rush you. Again, you pushed her back, getting closer and closer to being willing to actually hurt her.

“You wanna fucking run that again, princess?” you demanded icily. “Try to hit me, bitch. I’ll fucking hit back I promise you that.” You got closer, glowering at her, practically eye to eye. “You been fucking throwing hands at him? I know that wasn’t the first fucking time? You get off on this shit?” It had been easy to spot the punch she tried to throw. It was even easier still to deflect the punch shoving her far harder. “Try that again and I’m gonna fucking lay your ass out so help me fucking God.”

“Thalia.”

This time the word came from Alex. The word was flat and unimpressed. A quick glance over at him showed a largely disappointed look on his face. And somehow, seeing that seemed to be enough to force Thalia to get a fucking grip. She stopped, slumping back and sulked, walking over to sit down next to Alex. You watched, genuinely disgusted, as she laid her head against Alex’s shoulder and he let her. And when she burst into ugly, blubbering tears you weren’t surprised, but you were angry.

You clenched and unclenched your first three times trying to will yourself to relax some. But, nothing was working. You took a deep breath once…another…another…and another ten times still before you were able to look over at Rafe. He sat there, face pale and eyes cast down. You moved on auto-pilot, the kind of thing that used to be second nature and innate but now felt more…disjointed…forced. You laid your hand softly on his wrist so he’d notice it before moving your hand up to his shoulder. You squeezed it in a pattern of three and his head slowly moved up. He looked at you, dazed and you didn’t know if you were more angry or sad for him, really.

“Stand up,” you said quietly. He looked confused. You clarified. “You’re not staying in this room with that fucking lunatic. And Rafe…I swear to God don’t fucking argue with me on that. You’re lucky I didn’t break her fucking nose. Let’s go.”

Seemingly in a daze, he rose. You cast a look over towards Alex as Rafe followed like a shadow over to the door. You glared at the other man and he gave a half-hearted frown of apology as if he’d expected something like this to happen. That didn’t make anything better. So, you simply shook your head and turned again. You yanked the door open and let Rafe walk out first, face still drawn. You shut the door quietly behind yourself and laid your hand gently on his bicep before gesturing him down the hall. We found not a producer or even an assistant first but instead, Jeff fucking Probst who looked startled to see us.

“You’re supposed to be,” he began.

“I’m supposed to be beating a bitch’s ass for putting her fucking hands on him like some little—” you cut yourself off. You cleared your throat. “Sorry. Forgive me. Thalia fucking hit him. Doesn’t seem like it’s the first time. So if I were you? I’d go ahead and get her the fuck out of here before I call my dad who works in entertainment law and let him tear this piss-poor production apart. And feel free to tell production I said that.”

Jeff winced. “I understand,” he said. He looked at Rafe. “I’m…I’m terribly sorry that happened. That hasn’t happened before as far as I’ve been told. There are mental health staff in the bungalow attached to the house. Go there. I’ll explain everything. Some people will stop by to talk later though, I’m sure.”

“Good,” you replied sharply in place of Rafe who still wasn’t speaking.

Following Jeff’s advice, you shepherded Rafe towards that bungalow where a kind woman gestured you two in before leaving to go get some…paperwork? Who the fuck knew? Who the fuck cared? You looked over at Rafe who was still silent, face pinched. It wasn’t hard to see his leg slightly shaking and the jittering of his hands.

“I hate knowing that wasn’t the first time and that you’d deny it to protect her,” you said bitterly. “Rafe you don’t know her. And you deserve better than that. Just like you always have.”

“I don’t,” he said, his voice coming out short and quiet. “I don’t deserve anything good.”

You pursed your lips and shook your head. “Thought we’d moved past the self-deprecating bullshit,” you commented. “My mistake.” You sighed. “Rafe…your family and friends all love you still. Even now. So don’t waste…your heart on shit like this. Fuck this show. You can afford to break whatever contract you had. Hell, my dad could find a loophole and sue for you I guarantee it. But you…you can’t stay here. You…you deserve good things. And that? That…person...who they’re trying to call your perfect match?” He stayed silent. “You got matched with her because fundamentally you still find yourself in the same place that your dad wanted you to be. You think that you owe everything to everyone else and don’t want to take responsibility or…ownership over anything. For fuck’s sake, Rafe. Do you really want her to be your spokesperson? You want anyone like her to be your spokesperson?” You shook your head vehemently. “You are so much better than that. I don’t…I don’t know if you can see it. I don’t care if you can see it. But it’s true. You threw away a year of sobriety and years of building real self-confidence and not your fake bravado bullshit for this?”

“No you don’t understand,” Rafe said. “I am sober. And I didn’t want–”

The door to the bungalow opened and the woman bustled in, hands absolutely full of stuff. You rose to your feet before the woman even had to open her mouth to tell you to leave. “Cast only,” she said anyway, uselessly.

“Yeah, right,” you said dryly.

“Wait…where are you going?” Rafe asked, face breaking open into vulnerability for a moment.

“Home,” you said shortly. “Worst vacation…ever.” He looked hopelessly confused at that news. “You should call my dad, Rafe. Like now. You are not supposed to go through this shit alone. You know he’ll help you. You have his number.”

“I can’t…they…I don’t have my phone,” Rafe muttered, looking away from you.

Your eyes darkened. “Fuck’s sake these people,” you muttered. You took your phone from your pocket and called your dad before the woman across you could say a word. You gave your dad a curt explanation and he said he’d be in Hawaii in ten hours before briefly chewing you out for not saying where you were going beforehand.

“You can’t leave,” the woman said. “We need to—”

“Don’t care, didn’t ask, go through my fucking lawyer,” you said sharply, handing her your father’s business card. You glanced at Rafe. “He’ll be here in ten hours. Most likely super pissed. So…he’ll raise hell for you.”

“Are you…” Rafe trailed off. You raised an eyebrow. “Will you…stay?”

Your heart shattered and healed and shattered again in an ugly, impossible sort of way. “I…” you tried, trailing off immediately. “You…” Still no luck. Eventually, you were able to settle on, “I need to leave. I need to go home. I…I can’t fucking be here. I can’t see…this. I can’t hear…whatever you’re gonna tell my dad. I can’t see whatever footage he’s gonna have them dredge up. I need to go. Home.” You looked at him, letting out a shaky breath. “And you should consider doing the same thing. As soon as humanly possible.”

Your name spilled from his lips and it sounded so right and so wrong in that moment. “I…I’m…” he tried, voice breaking.

“No,” you denied, giving him a bitter smile. “Don’t. I don’t…I don’t want to hear it, Rafe. I really don’t. I wasn’t going to see someone hurt you. I never have. I never will. But facts are facts right?” His face fell, knowing what you meant. “And I’m a mistake. Let’s not drag it out any longer, right?” You shook your head. “Good luck, Rafe. I…wish nothing but the best for you.”

“I didn’t…” Rafe tried. “I can explain.”

“No,” you denied, holding a hand up. “I can’t do this. Not here. Not now. I’m…done with this. With all of this. Truly.” You let out a devastated-sounding, sad sort of sigh and offered an obviously fake tiny smile. “Just let me know when my dad gets here—you know he’ll forget to.” He went to speak and you held up a hand. “He’ll get your phone back if these psychos don’t give it to you by then.”

“I will,” he said immediately in reply, a sad, almost puppy-dog-like look in his eyes.

You sighed, biting back the urge to cry or scream…or anything else really. “You know what? Never mind. Call Topper. I…just…just let him know. He’ll tell me,” you said, voice going numb.

“Wait,” Rafe said, his voice shaky. “I…I want to tell you.”

“Rafe…please,” you said, giving him your best pleading look and more than willing to beg him if it meant he’d give you a break.

“I…okay. I…I’m sorry,” he said, frowning, looking genuinely remorseful.

As you started to leave, rage somehow carrying you as the influx of adrenaline faded, your name fell from Rafe’s mouth once more. You turned your head to look at him, silent and waiting. It took a few moments for him to crack. The time lingered, settling into crevices of yourself that long seemed gone—abandoned and disappeared with Rafe’s own missing presence. Yes, this was too hard already and the situation had just made it impossible.

“Get home safe,” he said, his voice breaking.

You let out a bitter laugh turning back around and heading out, refusing to turn your head. You knew that if you were to look back you’d cave immediately. And you couldn’t do that.

“You too, Rafe,” you offered blandly.

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron one shot #obx x reader #obx x you #obx fic #obx fanfiction #obx angst #outer banks x reader #outer banks x you #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks fic #rafe imagine #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron obx #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #my writing #obx

[anamizuiro]

When They Are Self Aware [IkeVamp Edition]

(After reading many tumblr posts about sagau and sahsrau, I pondered...)

Warnings: Long, somewhat ooc (some of these are based of my own impression towards them after looking through posts related to them), 4th-wall destroyed, grammars

What happens when the suitors of Ikemen Vampire become self aware that they are game characters?

That question can lead to two possible answers: it's either chaos or wonder.

For now, it's wonder.

Think about it. They are characters based off of existing historical figures from different eras, right? Obviously, this kind of "technology" will baffle them slightly. Because this kind of thing wasn't even really a thing in their prime. The Protagonist serves as your eyes to see everyone. The residents also take notice of this. You can't really share your message across through MC's mouth. But your words did come across through the wind.

Jean may be wary about this, pondering "is this some sort of witchcraft? Or have God decided to come and punish me by filling my mind with madness and uncertainty?". Because, there's someone out there?? Outside this world observing him?? Some being he didn't know?? And they care for him too (judging from how he sometimes heard your quiet sobbing and desperate pleas, telling him to be aware that despite everything, there are people who care for him) ???? But why? He wondered, why? He don't know who or what is this being that is watching him. Certainly, it wasn't God.

But soon, everyone followed. Jean is no longer the only one who become aware of the presence of this being. One by one, the residents of the mansion followed suit.

×××

Sometimes, whenever Vincent paint sunflowers, everything feels much brighter. He felt some sort of giddiness whenever he draw beautiful scenes. He felt like someone is watching him painting. But this feeling... it didn't frighten him. Rather, he was content. It almost felt like he's a child drawing something while a relative or a parent watching with fond eyes. Sometimes, he swore he heard "I wonder what kind of painting he's making" or "I'm sure his painting is beautiful like the real deal. Too bad they don't show a picture of his paintings".

It's nice that whoever or whatever says this compliments his painting. But real deal? Does this mean someone has painted what he painted before? If so, who? Vincent cannot help but wanting to meet whoever this person is and told them that he wanted to give them credit for the original (poor guy doesn't even know the person you're talking about is the real life counter part of himself).

×××

Theo often hears soothing whispers in his dreams. Though he sometimes had a nightmare about how his brother died in his arms, these days they are followed by someone (or something) comforting him. Telling him that he's already good enough of a brother. And Vincent will still and always love him. But of course he prefer not to tell anyone about this, including Vincent. He didn't think it was necessary.

But, Theo often felt the same presence around Vincent. Whenever he accompanied him to buy art supplies or helping him with the next exhibition, he felt someone or something watching both of them with benevolence. Like a guardian angel, perhaps. Pair of eyes looking at them with fondness whenever they are together in any occasion. Perhaps there is indeed someone out there that care for them both.

×××

Let's face it, Arthur may or may not put up some theories on the wall of his room at first.

He began to note down these weird feeling of being watched. He will be intrigued. No matter where he looked at, this presence were nowhere near him. Or at least, not physically. But how come their presence lingers despite having no physical appearance? Did they use some sort of invisibility cloak? Or maybe this being is like a fairy, like the ones he believes in?

He may or may not use this as an inspiration for his next story

Though whenever he writes his next manuscript, the presence comes off even stronger. A pair of eyes ogling on him. Arthur felt like he was back in those days where he's working on his assignment as a student while being supervised by one of his professors. But it's different. There's a bit of pity in these invisible pair of eyes. But why did this being pity him for writing? What part of him is pitiable?

×××

Comte knew.

Nobody need to tell him about it. He already sensed this presence–your presence–that watches him and the residents. He have seen many unusual things, especially for someone who have lived for centuries.

Those nights he spent by looking at the sky, his golden lances glances specifically at the moon. Thinking that perhaps the celestial object in the sky could serve as your other pair of eyes aside from the woman who came through the door that was supposed to serve as your "vessel".

He longed for this presence. He longed for you. He felt all of your emotions whenever and wherever he is. Sometimes he felt happiness, bashfulness and sorrow. Like Arthur, he wondered what part of him that you pity. But he's content nonetheless. After all, he knows that there is someone out there who think of him.

×××

Isaac will be curious.

He never stops being curious, despite being awkward and socially shy. He's a scientist, a physician. Scientists ought to be curious of their surroundings.

While your (invisible) presence slightly scares him at first, he wondered where you are. If you're not here, then how are you watching him? From where are you watching him? Could it be that there's another world out there beyond his reach? Beyond the boundaries of this world he currently settles in? Was the theory of the existence of parallel universe gain its fame from now on?

He'll never know unless he finally got to meet you. Science has no boundaries, right?

×××

When Sebastian realized this for the first time, he is... unsure how to feel. Considering that he came from the year where advanced technology is still in research and work in progress overall. Could this be the so called simulated world? Like the ones in those fictional stories? But that's too advanced! No way a human can replicate this kind of experience on such a device! Even if they did, what kind of device is it?

Sometimes he heard your adoring whispers of how he is such a big history geek. It kind of caught him off guard. Getting praised by the residents is more than enough to give him a heart attack but when you did it? He might as well lay down on a sofa for a while to process this newfound sense of content.

×××

Like Comte, Vlad is also aware of this.

To think that there is a world out there, and you living on it. Vlad would definitely be content whenever you log in to the game. To the point he will frequently appear in your check-in screen. Saying things of how he is so happy to see you and your presence always made his day.

He also felt your eyes looking at him whenever he goes on to his usual routine. And you wouldn't believe how giddy it made him feel. He felt like a kid again.

Vlad will also look at the moon whenever he think of you. Once again, like Comte, he believed that the moon in the world he lives in serves as your other pair of eyes to see what's going on in this world. If you were out there watching him, the world you lived in must be a peaceful one. Since he sometimes heard your soft giggles in his dream.

This time, he will find a way to see you. Maybe he could borrow Comte's door for a while.

Or maybe he can... find a way to tinker with the game's mechanics to communicate with you.

×××

Napoleon doesn't really think much about the existence of other worlds. Until now.

He once said that he didn't really care of what people think of him. Or how the books described him. He's just a man right in front of you. In front of your screen, that is. Because that's what he told you. But when he came to realized that the world he's living in is a game, a dimension among the binaries simply with a purpose to satisfy those who seek the thrill and adventures of romance, he is shocked.

What do you mean that there are other people out there who played his route? The only presence he felt was yours. He didn't feel anyone else. Is this some sort of fate? Another destiny given to him?

Sometimes, Napoleon heard your whispers in the wind. One time, when he was teaching the children, he heard your faint whisper of praise. Telling him that he's a good teacher. It made him blanked out for a moment until a child have to tug his hand to get him back on track. Despite contemplating whether to tell Isaac about this or not, he did it anyways. And surprisingly, Isaac told him that sometimes he experiences the same thing.

The former Emperor may look calm on the outside. Meanwhile, he began to bury his face on the pillow as he recalled that day.

×××

When Dazai blanked out in the rain, he swore he heard an echo of you calling his name. His eyes blinked as more raindrops falling to his skin. Soaking every inch of his clothing wet. His eyes looked around, wondering where your voice came from before looking back to the cloudy sky once again.

When the sound of rain masked any other noises in his surroundings, your voice went through to him. Your voice sound so sad. He thought, Why do you sound so sad? Who are you feeling sad for?

Yet he yearned for your voice. He sometimes wished it will be raining the next day. Or the next month. All because he felt like your voice is much clearer when it's raining. Sometimes he sits so close to the window when it's raining, eyes looking into the distance, and face looking solemn.

×××

The thought of lovers limited by otherworldly boundaries is such an interesting concept for Shakespeare. It's like Romeo and Juliet but... much better? And with a bit of magic?? No one is dying except that they are now pining for eternity without resolution??

Better be prepared of extra letters you will receive. Sometimes it came from your in-game mailbox. You might want to read it, because it's mostly collection of poem dedicated for you, his so-called otherworldly muse. So many metaphors and shakespearean terms, you might need an expert to help you translate them. Unless you have an experience in arts of theatrics.

Shakespeare will not hesitate to write this down as his new play. About a man who fell in love with a woman who lives far away. And the only thing that could keep them connected was the whispers in the wind. As for how the tale will end, he might need to think about it later. He knew that many of his fans will be a little surprised in this sudden turn of his style. But, hey, he's eager to see you beyond the screen as you watch him directing his play.

×××

Giddy is an understatement. Charles is truly ecstatic. It doesn't matter if he's just a game character. There's someone out there who care for him and loves him? Well, mark him down as happy. He's ready to smother all of his love for you. All he needs to do left is to find a way to get the message across.

What should he send you? An extra diamond? extra drop rate for his card gacha? A bonus secret letter that only you can access? And where should he send his presents? The mailbox? Or just outright on the check-in screen? Charles have so many options yet so indecisive. Because he wants do all of it.

Charles would do anything for you. ANYTHING. He will go through the seven seas and seven land even if it meant that he could finally see you. He's ready to break the game as long as he can talk to you. He's quite lonely, you know?

×××

Faust chuckled in amusement. The scientist have become the observed guinea pig, huh? What an interesting turn of events.

He wondered if you enjoyed watching him. Now that you see him through the eyes of the female protagonist that became your eyes. He wondered if he looked deeper into her eyes, he will saw you. Right there, beyond the screen. Perhaps giggling or just smiling. Or just having neutral expression.

×××

Overall, once they have realized that they are just game characters and they can "see" you, expect for sudden extra diamonds sitting in your mailbox or their greeting become much much livelier than usual.

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp napoleon #ikevamp isaac #ikevamp theodorus #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp comte #ikevamp charles #ikevamp faust #ikevamp vlad #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp sebastian #ikevamp shakespeare #ikevamp dazai

[thedivinershiddenarchive]

I really liked the Isekaid!Tartaglia x Character!Fem!Reader you did.

I could see Kaeya doing the same to Character!Fem!Reader by using the information he gathered from the game to make the reader do what he says to gain the information he has.

cw. fem!reader, sagau?, switched roles (reader is the character, kaeya is the player), perverted!kaeya, blackmail, manipulation, bl0wj0bs, v4g1n4l s3x, one-sided h4t3 s3x, semi-public s3x, s3x tapes, implied s0mn0 at the end, some non-genuine insults towards kaeya sorry heh.., not beta-read or edited

a/n. sorry if this took long, i was procrastinating once again and was in the mix of completing this render in blender and speedrunning the events in genshin. my f2p self can't handle wasting some valuable primos.. other than that, i'm still unmotivated but i wanna get some fullfic requests done.

masterlist | tag system | 17- & MASC-ALIGNED PLEASE DNI! THIS IS ONLY FOR FEMALE AUDIENCES.

I can see him blackmailing you about telling the people of Monstadt about you being part of Khaenri'ah origin, how your plan was to destroy Monstadt and many more dark secrets you didn't want revealed. You didn't know who this bastard was and his intention nor how did he know your name and backstory.

He introduces himself as Kaeya and by the simple scroll of his 'gallery', you knew he was a weirdo. He had so many pictures of you in different positions and ugh, you didn't wanna know what that locked folder had at all even if he insisted that it wasn't bad. You can't trust him, especially after he threatened to tell your secrets to the whole of Monstadt. But oh wait, he won't reveal it if you do something for him.. You have a bad feeling about this.. This guy was extremely.. Unhinged and dirty. You wouldn't wanna know what he'd want you to do in exchange for his mouth to stay shut.

Still, you didn't want to end things off like that. What could wrong with trying to please this man? Everything but you need to endure it for your sake.

Goodness, your eye was going to get sore from the amount of flashing lights you're witnessing from that device called a phone. Seems like he wanted to savor the moment a bit seeing his 'waifu' in a position he never dreams her doing. It's like a one-in-a-trillion chance of having and he felt lucky having you like this.

Oh how it was hard to resist to fuck your throat right then and there but to be honest, what's stopping him?

Fuck, your voice was feeling hoarse everytime he thrusted into your tight throat and he wasn't stopping until he was satisfied. You were practically choking from the amount of cum inside of your mouth and his girthy length that was endlessly pounding your mouth. Even after that was finished, he wasn't satisfied, instead, he pulled out of you and forced you to swallow all of his seed before flipping you over and forcing you on all fours as he positions his cock inside of you once again.

You hated him, hated his fucking guts for being so disgusting and using you for his own advantage but you couldn't help but moan at how good it felt being railed to celestia by his dick pressing all those good spots. Kaeya's hand was gripping so hard on your hip while the other went to grip your chin and kiss you messily to keep your mouth shut from making too much noise that would alert anyone nearby. He knew the guards were nearby or maybe someone worse who would catch you in the act.

The two of you would lay down tiredly, well, mostly you. Kaeya was sitting up and taking pictures of your tired and messy form but you could care less right now, as long as your information didn't get leaked to the whole of Monstadt, you could rest but now wasn't the time. You wished to get up and change but you were way too fatigued from the endless rounds of him fucking you over and over again. This guy was really pent up but you kind of expected that seeing that he basically never touched a woman except his mother.

He was kind enough to dress you up and take you to your house. Of course, why would he leave his favorite girl out in the open, completely vulnerable? He wanted to spend more time to spend time with her in the first place but since she was being so good, he decided to let you rest.

But all of us know that he still had some pent up energy inside of him so what did he do? Pick his phone up again, connected his earphones to it and watched the lewd videos of you getting fucked by him. Your moans were making him hard again, your begging and cum-stained face had him unable to resist what he wanted to do with you.

Looking over your body that was sleeping soundly, he unbuckled his pants once again. Setting his phone down with the recording app still on for what he was about to do to you.

© notsodivininglover 2023. reposting, plagiarizing, translating or claiming my works are strictly forbiddened.

#notsodivininglover ; king’s pages #kaeya x reader #kaeya smut #kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya alberich smut #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader

[kanene-yaaay]

Bonds, Friendship and other strange things that are affected by it

Kanene’s notes: It’s been! A long time!! What a hello! :D Uhhhh, tbh, I am not sure when this is going to be posted because I haven’t finished writing the ending yet but at the same time I can’t think of an ending for it so dfgthyujuhygtffg let’s see which part of me will win when this comes out xD

(Edit: So, I came here to post it unfinished but !!! a suden lighting of inspiration striked me so!! dfhyujikjh yay! another fic! lets gooo)

Warnings: None. Around 1000 words of Lee!Percy and Ler!Grover because those two are incredibly fun and cool to be around and think about.

[~*~]

Grover cared about Percy. He really did. Of course. No one would create a bond that can possibily cost your life with someone that you didn’t trust as if the own Destiny had intertwined your existences to follow each other at the hardest times. Especially if that other person was a half-blood that was more into fights, problems and almost-death situations than most teenagers could admit.

So, yes, he loved Percy. He was his friend. His best friend. And maybe a brother, but this title was already well placed in Tyson and he was not about to fight a three foot tall cyclop for it. He had enough fighting and marrying cyclops for his life. Thank you very much.

Anyway. Love and Care. Yeah.

But this was starting to get ridiculous.

Happiness and joy exploded in his chest like fireworks being set off just under his skin, leaving his entire body with a buzzing, kind of tickly feeling running just about everywhere.

"My gods, Percy, I am not even touching you!!" He had to almost physically bite the giggles that threatened to spill from his throat.

Percy wasn't so lucky. His face was already beginning to be tainted with red by both the unstoppable onslaught of titters and snickers and the embarrassment of Grover being absolutely right.

"Shut up, shut up. You're so stupid, this is so stuhuhupid!"

"Really?" Grover rested his hands on the other's sides and almost jumped in surprise with the phantom feeling of ticklish shock that made his body want to curl in a ball of protection.

It was no surprise when the younger began kicking and crackling even before Grover squeezed the tickle spot as if his life depended on it.

"Pehercy! There is no way someone can be that ticklish!"

“Shuhut it!”

And that was the thing: Percy was actually NOT that ticklish. He swear that he wasn’t! If he crumbled just with the slightly hint of wiggly fingers and a couple of squeezes, Annabeth would have destroyed him on all their playful debates for now. Damn, if he was that sensitive, he wouldn't have survived his own childhood with a mother that was as sweet and as lovely as merciless during an attempt to cheer her son up.

But he couldn’t articulate this. Not when that dumb bond could make him feel not only his own butterflies flying and dancing crazy on his stomach, but also that sunny feeling of a playful joy that he was sure that came from Grover's pride making the Son of Poseidon, who survived two gigantic wars and another countless life-threatening fights, die with just some digging on his ribcage and oh, shit he was getting higher, nononono-

"Stohohohop!!" He arched his back, hands holding Grover's wrists but too much weak to push the scribbling fingers that were focusing too much in that awful space between each rib to be fair away. He was sure the entire world could hear the way his laughter got higher and louder even before Grover decided to close his hands in fists and drill his knuckles on the skin. 

For a moment Percy almost regreted embarassing his friend in front of Juniper, but the feeling almost as quick as it was gone. 

"I hahahahate this. I hate this so much!"

Grover didn't even falter for a second, barely stopping to acknowledge the happy warmth - like watching the sunrise in the beach with your favorite people around you - that definitely wasn't only his taking over his senses before answering. "Yes, Percy, of course you do. Just like fishes hate water, but you do."

"I'm serious!"

"I am literally agreeing with you, dude."

"No, you're not!"

"Now you're just making stuff up."

And before Percy could protest more Grover decide to finally end the other's suffering and worm his way to the armpits with ease pratice, barely fliching at the honest-to-the-gods scream that came out from his friend's mouth before he fell in silent laughter, his entire body shaking with every giggle and hands twitching between hiding his face every time another snort was fished from his throat or keep trying (and failing) in pry the offending fingers from their unfair, drilling attack on the ticklish pits.

A faintly sound of leaves moving was the only warning that they weren’t alone anymore. Grover smiled even before the so known amused voice called their attention.

"Oh, it's you. I thought the Stymphalian birds were back for revenge. Hi, seaweed brain."

“Hey, Annabeth!”

With all the noise, Grover was surprised Annabeth took as long as she did to appear.

Percy seemed to think otherwise.

"No!" Suddenly his efforts to escape got 10 times worse, which, since he really wasn't trying to truly get away from the very beginning, made it see like Grover was fighting against an old lazy chihuahua. "How did you find us!"

"Did he interrupt your date again?"

At the reminder, Grover fred the rest of his fingers to claw at Percy's belly - right above his bellybutton, wehere were storaged the best collection of snorts and shrieks, while his thumbs were still drumming on his armpits.

"Yes." He had to shout above the other's high pitched laughter. "And it's Kill Percy Thursday!"

“How could I forget?” The blonde started cracking her fingers, making bubbly excitment run so quickly and strongly in his senses that Grover had to stop the tickling to snicker, instinctively fliching away. Annabeth eyed both of them with a glint of fondness and amusement that did nothing to hide the pure mischieviousness taking over her expressions. “By the way, I think I am owned some revenge since someone decided to prank me with those fake books last week.”

“It was good knowing you, dude.”

Joy and warmth and pride and care chasing each other in his chest while he tried to keep the daughter of Athena away from his tickle spots with no sucess.

The things he had to put up with because of his friends, really.

#Ticklish!Percy #Lee!Percy #Ler!Grover #pjo tickling #pjo tickles #Kanene's fic #Kanene's fanfic #this has been in my drafts for like months now fdfyhujkijh #helppp #anyway. it's done!!! yay!! I wanted to write more about that idea but honest I am just happy that I finished it x33 #Maybe the ending isn't the beeeest but it is there so :DD #It still is good ig

[literary-illuminati]

Book Review 49 – Some Desperate Glory by Emily Tesh

Introduction

I forget who initially recommended me this book, but I owe them an incredible debt. Really the only disappointing thing is that I hadn’t heard of it even sooner, as this really is just perfectly tailored to appeal to me specifically. First science fiction/fantasy novel I can remember reading in a long time that I actively wished was longer. As a testament to how much I liked this book – this review is long enough to need subheadings.

So! Some Desperate Glory is a space opera, following Kyr (Valkyr, technically), a 17-year-old cadet and genetically enhanced ‘warbreed’ golden girl of Gaea Station – that being the quasi-fascist statelet of militant dead-enders who fled to a desolate planetoid in a dead system to continue the war after aliens destroyed the earth/most of humanity. After she gets assigned to Nursery (read: breeding the next generation of soldiers) instead of a combat wing and has a crisis of faith, she talks herself into running away to help her brother on the suicide mission terrorist attack he was deployed on. With the help of one of her brother’s friends and a captured alien, she manages it, discovers that her brother had absolutely no intention of actually following orders once he’d made it out, and take it upon herself to do her own, better, terrorism. From there the plot gets weird, and I’m going to spoil it shamelessly talking about it, but if you value surprises when reading at all just stop this review and go read it.

The Heroine

Kyr is, and I say this lovingly, the most insufferable bitch of a 17-year-old military brat I’ve ever spent time in the head of (at least at first). Even compared to the other indoctrinated child soldiers she’s the cop nobody likes. She then spends the first third to half of the book unlearning this indoctrination, by which I mean very arduously and painfully reaching a point of ‘the fascist cult was a corruption and black mark on the good name of the death cult vengeful crusade, I’ll do it better’ and ‘it’s probably okay to not, like, personally hate aliens who were too young to have been alive when the earth was destroyed. Torturing them for no reason is wrong, like abusing animals was, back when there were animals’. She spends the entire book expecting on a bone-deep level to get herself killed for the cause, and at the end of the book is only like 10% of the way better (one of the last beats in the entire story is, standing with one of her only friends and sure they’re both about to run out of life support, offering to snap their neck for them because ‘asphyxiation’s a nasty way to go’). Whenever she is confronted with the idea that some people aren’t constantly aware of the possibility of physical violence or get to live their lives as something other than a bullet in the gun seeking vengeance for a dead planet she wants to scream and smash things at the unfairness of it all. I adore her.

Honestly my only real complaint is how quickly she starts mellowing out in the second and third acts of the story. There’s extenuating circumstances (whole extra life of memories, time loop bullshit, forcibly confronted with what she said she wanted and what it looks like, etc), but past the one real big hump it did rather feel like her character development suddenly became a bit smooth and easy/. This is one of the things I’m talking about when I say I wish the book was longer – everything after the first big climax and the time travel/universe editing felt kind of rushed and abbreviated.

As far as being a #problematic fave goes, Kyr was also very carefully kept from being, like, directly personally culpable for anything really unforgivable. Which I do understand why from a wanting people to sympathize with the racist homophobic fascist child soldier, but like – you’ve already introduced time travel and retroactivity. C’mon, don’t get cold feet now. Let her and Avi really share the ‘killed trillions in a universe that retroactively never happened’ credit.

Also, and entirely tangentially – you know how in a lot of action shows, the hero has incredibly emotionally tense rivalries and/or camaraderie with other guys, and then also an extremely conventionally feminine girlfriend off to the side somewhere who does like two things in the entire story and mostly seems to exist to prove he’s straight? Kyr has that, except she is textually gay (if incredibly repressed about it and like 90% of the way to asexual in terms of libido). Sorry Lis, but you are literally barely a character. Cleo’s right there, and already has a personality that’s more than two bullet points and is actually involved in the plot in ways beyond ‘love interest’.

Gaea Station

The shitty fascist asteroid habitat that Kyr grew up on is (if barely) the primary setting of the story, and as far as portrayals of incredibly unbalanced and fundamentally broken society just full of cultlike and ultranationalist neuross. I kind of love it as a dystopian setting, though I feel like the author kind of over-egged the pudding on it by the end of the book.

Society is organized into what feels like an intentional parody of a lot of YA dystopia setups, where you live in a tightly integrated mess all through adolescence (each with their own heraldic animal to idenity with!) but then at 17 your exams determine the branch of society you will be assigned to for the rest of your life to do your duty for humanity. Of course, unlike most YA dystopias, the System isn’t the result of some leviathan-state ruling the fates of millions or a tradition that’s going back generations upon generations – it’s a ramshackle mess that can barely consistently feed its warrior elites enough protein slop to take advantage of their genetically engineered hormone levels for muscle growth. It’s all so clearly and intentionally artificial and fake that it loops around to feeling extremely realistic.

Also do love how the elder generation all have names like Joel or Ursa or Elena, while the younger generation are all Valkyr and Magnus and Avicenna and Zenobia. The only really surprising thing is that they don’t specifically call out how children are raised in common and without individual families as following Plato’s Republic – it’s exactly the sort of attempt to create a grand unifying mythology for all of Earth’s true and vengeful children.

I really do wish Tesh had trusted the reader a bit more about it, though. Like, we can tell that almost all the names of the younger generation are either historical figures form the Mediterranean/Greco-Roman world or Norse mythology (with a few exceptions like Avicenna who fit the general aesthetic if not those exact conditions), which puts a bit of a lie to the whole ‘pan-human’ bit. It’s a clever bit of characterization through worldbuilding! You don’t need to call it out twice in dialogue between characters and then again in an in-universe scholarly essay excerpt at the start of a chapter. I can’t complain too badly though, she’s really not even close to being the worst for that I’ve read recently.

One thing I did like especially because I don’t think it was ever called out and brought front and centre is just the sort of, like, perfect irony of both Kyr and her brother Magnus – ‘warbreed’ engineered supersoldiers with physical capabilities beyond any baseline human, blonde aryan ubermensch, the golden children and eugenic future of Gaea Station/true humanity – both being queer and totally unsuited to their assigned gender roles. If it was, like, specifically brought up in a big monologue as disproof of the Gaean ideology or something it’d feel much too on the nose, but as just a set of facts underlying the characterization of the protagonists I liked it quite a lot.

Trio Dynamics

They don’t actually have all that much pagecount spent together, now that I think about it, but as far as I’m concerned the absolute heart of the story is the dynamic between Kyr, Avi (Avicenna, genius-level hacker and cynical rat bastard discontented Gaea Station restaurant) and Yiso (young and rebellious Prince of the Wisdom, taken captive by Gaea when they’re personal ship came too close and then liberated/kidnapped by the other two in their escape attempt). It’s peak trauma-bonding in that the first time it involves a) Avi torturing Yiso to force the alien supercomputer to let him access it and b) Kyr shooting Avi in the head after he uses access to the supercomputer to wipe out 90% of galactic civilization as payback for the whole ‘destroyed Earth with an antimatter missile’ thing (she got a case of morals when confronted with what ‘winning’ would mean. Also her brother shooting himself.)

By all rights they should absolutely hate each other and after two temporal recursions and oceans of retroactively unspilled blood on all their hands they’re the only people who even slightly understand each other. At one point Kyr tells Yiso ‘just so you know, I don’t really care about you as a person,’ and then immideately thinks ‘that was a lie. Why did I say that?’ Avi and Kyr both deprogram themselves from the cult that raised them but only the ‘loyalty to the cult’ bits and not the ‘alien race war vengance death cult’ bits. Yiso meets Kyr in an atemporal training simulation and gets retroactive Stockholm syndrone even though the first time they actually meet she breaks their ribs for repressed teenager reasons. They all drive me absolutely insane and I absolutely adore them. Even if Avi’s redemption felt waaaaay too rushed and unjustified in the final recursion, willing to forgive it here.

Time Loops

The big twist of the story is that, having fucked up and enabled Avi taking vengeance for Earth by doing the same thing to every other alien species, Kyr jumps into the alien supercomputer time manipulation buisness wholesale and goes back to prevent the destruction of Earth. Which then fast forwards to her being a newly minted officer in the Terran Expeditionary Fleet that is the imperial power dominating the known galaxy in increasingly high-collateral damage ways as time goes on. Yiso, in this timeline the beating heart and soul of the main alien resistance group, seeks her out and restores her memories and they go back to try and hijack the alien supercomputer before the government office whose hijacked its crippled remnants (as helmed by the alternate-timeline version of Gaea Station’s great leader, now a fleet admiral of the ‘Providence’ division) manage to literally destroy the universe.

It is mostly down to all the fanfic I’ve read, but I really, really adore timeline divergences that ropagate out and leave all the major characters different but similar people in alien yet appropriate situations. I also adore time travel stories about someone turning the timeline into swiss cheese trying to brute force their way to the one and only golden ending. So I adore this whole conceit. Really my only complaint is that there were only two (one and a half, really) recursions. Not that I’m demanding a full groundhog day here. But, like, it’d have been nice. And Kyr/Avi/Yiso continuously bumping into each other in different configurations and usually ending up at gunpoint would have been ann absolutely amazing bit.

Space Orcs

I can’t be sure Tesh actually had any exposure to the whole online meme of ‘humans as space orcs’, but I do and it’s really impossible to read the book as anything but an examination of the idea. Compared to every alien species ever encountered, humans are tall, heavy, muscular, impulsive, and violent. In a one-on-one confrontation they’ll snap any other species’ neck. The very first pages of the book are an excerpt from an in-universe text writing for an aliens about how actually really humans are very intelligent, and then talking about how threat displays and ‘human culture’. In the original timeline they even fit into the usual social niche of orcs in a lot of fantasy these days – the scattered and diminished remnants of a brutal empire that was defeated and mostly-exterminated in their attempts to conquer the universe.

The book’s handling of this doesn’t really have a point, as far as I can tell – the worldbuilding’s sufficiently divorced from anything real that trying to call it a commentary on racism or genocide or conquering empires is a stretch. (It is after all a fundamental point of the book that the obliteration of earth and extermination of the vast majority of humanity really was the only way the Wisdom could prevent the Terran Federation from conquering the known galaxy. Which is I’m extremely sure not something the author intends to be a historical analogy.) I found it a fun bit of worldbuilding and interesting subversion of normal space opera tropes regarding humanity’s relative abilities, anyway.

Theodicy

Is an incredibly pretentious way to title this section, but also in a sense kind of the core of the book’s plot? In an interesting way, and I think it’s really the book’s greatest weakness that it doesn’t explore or grapple with it enough.

Which is to say – the Wisdom is at the heart of galactic civilization. It’s an alien AI with vague but vast (though limited) reality-warping and precognitive powers. It does not rule the civilizations that accept it, but guides them as a benevolent god towards best, happiest outcomes with whatever support they ask for or need. To determine what ‘best’ means, it creates its Princes, vat-grown heirs to the dead species that created it, with a lifespan of millenia spent going through simulations and interacting with the world to provide the data and decision-making it requires to make that sort of strategic decision.

The Terran Federation’s attempt to reverse-engineer or hijack the Wisdom put it in a situation where the only solution its princes could find was to destroy the better part of humanity and even more of their industry and culture. Through the plot of the first acts of the book, Kyr and her genius-level-hacker friend hijack a node of it and Kyr convinces/forces it to accept her decision-making instead of its prince (who they just killed). This results in an explicitly colonialist human empire ruling over aliens as oppressed subjects, and using the half-wrecked and poorly understood Wisdom to eliminate threats before they occur (shunting the reality backlash off to alien worlds they don’t care about). The next acts of the book mostly resolve around fixing or reverting this, and end with Kyr diving back into a node and having another conversation with it.

A conversation which is basically it giving up. It reverts things back to the human-genocide timeline, then shuts down its infrastructure and goes dark, leaving the entire mostly pacifistic and loosely governed galactic civilization it had protected suddenly on its own. Humanity were such assholes we found a loving god and then convinced it to kill itself.

Which, like, could 100% totally work. As far as high concept short story prompts go its incredible. But as far as actually driving the action goes the Wisdom is the one who makes the most important deciisons in the entire book, and determine the entire shape of the plot. For it to land, it really really needed more than two and a half short conversations on screen, at least to me.

TL:DR

Good book, lesbian doing space atrocities, should have been longer.

#book review #sff #some desperate glory #emily tesh #lesbian space atrocities #space opera

[pudding-parade]

Piece of Paradise by Visty6

Do you like elaborate Victorian architecture? Then this might be a world for you. Alternatively, are you OK with utterly destroying elaborate Victorian architecture and creating a beautiful natural environment for fairies or merpeople instead? Then this also might be a world for you. :)

In general, I really like this creator's worlds. They're usually small, (mostly) empty, often roadless, and they're always beautifully decorated with a riot of dense, colorful flora and pretty waterfalls and such. If you like such worlds, I highly recommend that you take a look at the other worlds on this creator's blog, too, as well as the lots they have up for download. I use this creator's worlds often to make naturalistic fairies-only worlds, which is something I like to play sometimes. They're perfect for that.

This one, however, is suitable for humans because it has houses and rabbitholes and such. However, as you might have guessed, I have also used it as a dedicated world for merpeople, after bulldozing all the existing lots, creating a more natural living environment, and adding some diving lots. The mers swim between the islands to get where they're going, and because the islands are close together, it doesn't take too long to swim between them, so it works beautifully.

The world's download page also has a lot of pics of the world, so you can look at them there, too. (As usual, the title of this post is a link to the world's download page.) I'm not sure if/how those pics are edited and/or what sort of lighting mods and such the creator used for their pics, if any, so I'm posting pics taken in my own game with my lighting mod and my minimalist Reshade and such. Between the two sets of pics, hopefully you'll get an idea of how the place might look in your own game. :)

Note: This world does use some CC, all made by the world's creator. I'm not going to say it's required, because it's outdoor plants, but if you don't have them, you will lose some of the "look" of the lots. The CC isn't included in the world but is rather linked to on the world's download page. However, when you go to those pages, you'll likely get a security warning from your browser/antivirus. It may or may not be false positives. Either way, my computer is like Fort Knox, so I just barge right through. :)

I don't generally reupload non-Exchange worlds with these overviews, especially not for creators who are still active (though Visty has moved on to TS4), but I'm making an exception here because of the possible security issues. So, I'm reuploading a folder with the CC in .package format along with a .world file for the world. The file is here. The .world file goes in your install files under GameData - Shared - NonPackaged - Worlds, while the CC .package files go in with all your other CC. I made it so that the CC is separate from the .world file, so that you can decide whether or not you want to install the CC. I recommend that you do if you're going to keep the world as-is -- if you're going to tear it all down, obviously you won't need the CC :) -- and I installed the CC to take the pics on this post, but it's up to you. It's only 10 files, total, nine plants and an arbor. The plants are mostly climbing roses for walls/columns/porches and roses that drape over the arbor. So, if you like Victorian/cottage-y kind of feels, the CC would probably be useful to you in general.

More info and pics behind the cut!

Here are Edit Town images of the islands with lots on them, pre-built and otherwise:

And here is a map view image that includes the two community rabbithole lots:

According to its download page and Google Translate (because the download page is in Czech, and I don't speak Czech), the world requires World Adventures, Pets, Supernatural, Seasons, and University Life. I don't think it has any Store content. The most important EP to have is Supernatural because each island in the world has a LLAMA box or two on it. So unless you want your sims constantly using water taxis to get anywhere, you'll want Supernatural installed for this world. Plus, many of the rabbitholes and much of the build/buy stuff is from Supernatural.

The world is roadless. There are footpaths on some of the larger islands, but mostly you're meant to travel to the different lots via the LLAMA boxes. Because of the nature of the world, I would recommend using NRaas Register to disable strays and wildlife in the world. They will just get stuck if you don't.

I'm not sure how big the world is overall. I think it might be 1024x1024, but whatever the case, the playable area is a collection of small islands clustered together, as you can see in the pics. Thanks to combo rabbitholes, the world does manage to squeeze in most of the base game rabbitholes. It doesn't have a diner, a stadium, or a mausoleum. It doesn't have an equestrian center, but horses wouldn't be practical in this world, anyway. And it doesn't have the Supernatural rabbitholes, but those and a mausoleum are easy enough to plop down somewhere, if you want them.

The world has no spawners except for fish. Even minor pets do not spawn. This is typical of Visty's worlds, for whatever reason. So, if you want collectibles and minor pets and such, you'll need to add spawners yourself.

There are 15 pre-placed lots, total. Other than the two rabbithole lots, they are residential or empty. There are six pre-built residential lots (If Google translated the Czech on the download page correctly, the residential lots were made by a different creator) and seven empty lots to do with as you please. Most of the pre-built lots are fully furnished/decorated, but one is completely empty and one is semi-empty inside.

You might want to use some of the empty lots to build/place other kinds of community lots -- Like a graveyard, for instance -- because the world has none of them. It is also possible to add more lots, especially on the islands that have none and especially if you want to add some lots that extend into the water and then build some ports/houseboats or over-the-water lots on stilts. But, there are also some spots on some of the islands where you could squeeze in small lots completely on land, too, if you need more lots. Such added lots will likely not be flat, however. The islands that only have pre-placed empty lots on them already have LLAMA boxes placed off-lot, in the world, like so:

So, you don't have to worry about adding them to the lots you build/place buildings on the pre-placed empty lots.

Here are exterior pics of the pre-built residential lots:

Personally, while the lots are creatively built, lavishly landscaped, and very pretty to look at, I'm not in love with them. Partly, this is because I detest Victorian-style architecture but it's mostly because the houses just don't seem practical for playing purposes. Those that are fully furnished and decorated are cluttered and pretty cramped inside, with sunken spaces and small rooms that I can see sims getting stuck in. Or, it's likely that a pair of sims will have to walk a bit to find a spot that's large enough that they can do the routing necessary to have a conversation. Plus, about half of them only have one bedroom, despite being large. So, it would maybe be great if you're playing the world as a retirement island for wealthy elders or if you're just using it as a set/backdrop for period storytelling, but for regular playing with families? I'm thinking not. This is why I was happy to bulldoze the lots and reimagine the entire world, but maybe it will be your cup of tea just as it is.

Here are some random pics of some of the interiors of the fully-furnished/decorated houses, so you can see something of what I mean:

Here is a view of the lot with most of the rabbitholes:

And I think that's about all I have to say. We'll finish off with more random scenery.

#sims 3 #world overview #world overview wednesday #sims 3 pictures #sims 3 worlds #sims 3 scenery

[kitconnor]

to sum up what i’m going to say in short: stop gif reposting because oh my god you cannot justify it, excuse it or whatever you’ll try to say to shake it off. 

in the past MONTH ALONE i have encountered THREE REPOSTERS. until this year, i hadn’t encountered ONE.  now as much you thirst over notes and want to popular or whatever, you are damaging a rather integral part of this site !! i don’t know about other creators but i’m personally feeling a little bit disheartened about creating atm bc not even watermarks are stopping reposters anymore. you just act like a bitch whenever you’re confronted.

so, without further adieu, let’s look at who’s trying to destroy gifing right now !

CONSTANTLY-TRAGIC

reposted wednesday gifs of multiple users 

as well as reposting miscellaneous gifs in personal posts.

BLUMENCIA (og callout here)

reposted addams family gifs

reposted wednesday gifs

reposted gifs WITH A WATERMARK

as well as reposting miscellaneous gifs as ‘aesthetics’. this user claims that as long as the gifs are on the internet, the gifs are supposedly “everyone’s”. COMPLETELY missing the point that gifmakers individually create, colour, crop and make their OWN GIFS. 

THAT-BI-MULTIFANDOM-MESS

reposted marvel gifs

reposted x-men gifs

reposted marvel gifs

i’m actually only linking three examples, because that shit goes ON AND ON. that entire blog is a collection of stolen gifs from so many people.

i really don’t care if i sound like a fed-up, annoying gif maker rn because this shit shouldn’t even have to be said. gifmaking is NOT a hard thing to learn ! you don’t HAVE to have photoshop - there’s free alternatives !  if you want to make gifs, cool, fine !! that’s encouraged !! find your resources, ask your local gifmaker and they’ll help you get started !! but this whole business of right-click-save followed by upload-post-claim-i-made-these and then having the AUDACITY to get mad when a gifmaker responds with justified anger is so fucking LOW like we KNOW they aren’t yours !! stop trying to pretend they are !!

so, that’s that. there’s really nothing more to say. just. don’t repost. don’t steal shit. don’t steal art, or edits and especially not gifs. everyone who creates visual content of any kind owns that shit. you don’t have the rights to walk in and take it from them now or ever !!

don’t !! steal !! gifs !!

#important #lucie.txt. #i've said my peace now i hope it shuts all those reposters the FUCK UPPPP fr