#Call me attention seeking all you want. If im showing the World something I want it acknowledged. If I dont get it I wont show it.

[igneous-croc]

Also i feel like i should tell the truth - ive drawn like 500 purple hazes a day sincd the last post on reasonablydrawn-purplehaze. I love drawing the big guy! Hes a part of me now!

But I just dont post them - the drawings never got much attention, so what was the point of cleaning everything up to be "presentable", of finding some reason to justify why I drew haze shopping. Now i just draw haze shopping, and keep it to myself.

Will the haze blog ever go back to the activity it had? Norpe. That time is long gone. But Hazey is still important to me, and I still draw him lots, if that brings some relief to your heart that I have ever abandoned him. I could never.

[neteyamsilly]

i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 2

summary ;; Your burning determination to prove your father wrong and Jake's wish to teach you a lesson both end up in a pyrrhic victory. PART 1 | PART 3 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; im speechlessly overwhelmed at the sheer amount of love you guys showed me these past couple of days. like. literally never had something like this happen to me before. i got too excited to finish this chapter to give back to yall, there was an attempt to proofread but... i hope it's not too bad, please enjoy! as always, if you see any mistakes, im sorry!

The path further into the floating mountains was all the worse to navigate thanks to the lack of light, the only useful guides you had were the faintly flickering bioluminescent lights from the forest deep below. The branches twisting around each other to create a naturally built bridge from mountain to mountain benefited from this, contrasting as a clear obscured line to your eyes against the glow underneath. 

The easiest part of your journey, in hindsight, was just skipping along this line. 

You weren’t exactly happy about this.  

The more you left behind, the more you were freaked out that Neteyam or anyone else was onto your intentions already and hot on your trail right this moment. Imagining father making a beeline to you in the air with Bob, a cruel, merciless whistling arrow, made you all jittery and almost puking kind of nervous, pulling at the depths of your stomach. 

Your rationality told you that it was a half an hour walk to your spot from the tent, and Neteyam would be hurrying the more he thought he wasn’t able to catch up with you along the way, so you had around twenty minutes until the whole family was panicking and raising the clan to look for you. 

Tuk had gone missing once thanks to some hide and seek game with Lo’ak (she’d hidden so well and was waiting for her siblings to find her already, blindly sticking to the game for an entire day, not out of stubbornness but childish purity), and this was exactly what had gone down —

the resentful part of you questioned if father thinks of you highly enough to resort to that. 

If something happened to you, he would maybe urge your brothers to search for you for a while, and drop it then — leaving you to your own devices happily. 

Maybe. 

Were you even worth it in his eyes for a search party? You wondered if he cared enough that you disappeared. 

But that was a stupid, childish thought you knew you fantasized about a lot — perhaps this was why he’d called you immature. This was no mindset for a strong, independent, confident hunter. The thought father was right, even a miniscule bit was bitter on your tongue, worse than what he called black coffee. 

Disappearing so you’d find out just how much he cared was unfair to mom, for one. 

She had lost so much in such a short amount of time, the stories she sang poignantly about were hard to listen to without tearing up. Her home. The trees of voices, all the lost ancestors. Her father. Uncle Tsu’tey. Her first ikran, Seze. Loss upon loss you think there’d be nothing left to give anymore, but sky people’s fire was always hungry, always willing to waste more to grow bigger. 

You wouldn’t forgive yourself for making her cry in your pursuit to punish father. Never. 

You weren’t a child.

Just wanted to be one, sometimes.

Wanted father to babytalk you, pet your head longer than a passing touch as he walked away hurriedly to attend to other matters, make beads for your braids the way he always did from pretty stones he found on ponds, carve you little trinkets when you graciously had to give up your toys to Lo’ak and Kiri’s greed. 

Your neck piece was all them in fact, he’d see it if he ever paid enough attention, or perhaps it was all insignificant to him, five kids meant countless belongings for each individual child had been passed down from his hands, it would be a miracle for father to recognize you still wore his clumsy creations. But again, it had been too long since he’d even looked at you affectionately, he wouldn’t See. 

He’d transferred those habits entirely to Neteyam at one point in time. 

Your older brother would always ruffle Lo’ak’s hair and tease him the way father used to, comfort him in his own playful way, and even though the younger looked discontent at being babied, you knew he was happy Neteyam was quite literally his shadow to look after him through tough times — including shielding from father’s line of fire. In return, he was suffering from being a foil to the older son, you understood the struggle because you were going through the same comparison, you just weren’t obsessed with catching and living up to father as much as Lo’ak did. 

Win some, lose some, I guess.

Plus, Neteyam was trembling under the massive planet-weight pressure, he had to set the standard, he had to live up to the older brother title. He was becoming more of a father figure to Tuk as days passed and the Olo’eyktan became more transparent from his family’s life as a dad to five. 

Besides, Lo’ak made trouble enough for two people to go around that you felt bad for your big brother, Kiri was thankfully more mellow (despite frequently hanging out together with him and Spider) compared to him that Neteyam could breathe, not having to divide his attention. 

You were in awe of her about how disconnected she was from all the changing dynamics. She had her own problems you could never understand, more spiritual than your grandmother, and ever the ethereal soul who you thought would disappear into Eywa if flesh wasn’t holding her down to Eywa’eveng.

You were the teeniest, tiniest bit jealous of her (and Tuk) holding the softer sides of father, the boys thought he was deliberately softer because they were girls — but you were also a girl, so why weren’t you allowed in?   

Well, thanks to that, you’d gotten closer with Neteyam and known him better after the whole clan had settled on High Camp, so it wasn’t all that bad. You could badmouth father all day long sitting on some rock and make him laugh abashedly, guilty that he was smiling along with the trashing of the father’s name he respected so much — it was therapy, as Norm had taught humans frequently sought back on earth. It got you trying some things with Neteyam, becoming more of a companion and ranting buddy for him who he could be honest and open with, so that he didn’t have to worry about taking up a larger role in your life to fill father’s missing presence. You were concerned about him more than he could be concerned about you. 

That got you contemplating if father had noticed how comfortable his two oldest children were with each other that it was always Neteyam who he sent after you. A girl could dream, no? For one moment, it wasn’t because it was Neteyam’s responsibility, but because father was paying attention to how his kids got along.

The image of him pushed you to be frantically fast to reach your destination as the fear returned with might. If he caught you right now when you had no ikran to prove him wrong, the punishment he was sure to give would be way more humiliating, you at least wanted something in your name to taunt him with if you were going down anyways. 

A smile crept up your face at imagining him discombobulated and speechless, unable to pick out one thing that you did wrong. 

The carelessness that came with your speed combined with how dark it was to see where to clutch and put your feet on caused you to slip up countless times when climbing, the sharp rocks scraping the insides of your palms and insides of your forearms, lifting your skin up. What you cared about more than the pain was that the blood was now tracking material for your family to sniff you out — you couldn’t exactly wipe the rocks clean, so you carried on with a hammering heart, more afraid of father ruining your perfect moment than whatever ikran that would soon be going straight for your throat. 

At least you were able to wash the blood off your hands in the waterfall. 

Downside? You couldn’t see shit. With your bare back flushed straight to the wall of rock and your feet feeling out the thin edge, the shrill cry of ikrans and the roaring of water was about to overwhelm your senses too much to pay attention — 

and you slipped. 

The shriek that ripped out of you at the sensation of falling and the drop of your stomach alone almost made you pass out, and for a split second it was a good thing that you wouldn’t feel the moment you died, but your body, once again, was one step ahead of you, it twisted in the air the last second and your hands gripped the ledge. 

The wet rock and your blood made all that your life was hanging on slippery as you dangled into the abyss, swaying with the strong winds at this height. 

You didn’t know if it was the adrenaline or the nervousness, but something made you laugh out loud, and the bubbling laughter continued until you were able to pull yourself up safely at the ikran rookery, finally. 

Looking around like a fish out of water, how you hadn’t cracked your skull open shooting down to the forest below was a total miracle. 

You’d made it?  

No one was there to witness what you just pulled off in total darkness. Your whole body was shaking, and you weren’t even chosen by an ikran yet. This was happening. Shit. This was totally happening! 

Your excited and terrified, “Hell yeah!” went unheard apart from your aerial crowd. 

But. 

One among them answered your holler with its own that cut into the night like a battle horn. It was the closest one to you that was apparently watching you the whole time, starting to roar at you and twitching on its feet, shadow in the night informing you of its movements.

You’d seen from Neteyam and Lo’ak’s iknimayas that you only had a few seconds to pull your shit together until it attacked, this was meant to be dangerous, serious, you could end up as a late night snack to them if things went wrong, but you couldn’t stop grinning from ear to ear that it had chosen you.

You were chosen. 

It wanted you as its rider. 

If only father could see you now. The sensation of being the one — being special was unmatched. Now you could somehow get the fraction of the high he must have felt as Toruk Makto.  

The, “Let’s fucking go!” that left you kept echoing into the night as you lunged at it, dodging to the left when it snapped at your head, hooking one arm around the ikran’s slender neck and clamping your legs around it the moment it started thrashing around wildly. 

You didn’t know why father had made a big deal out of it. You formed tsaheylu in no time, breaking Neteyam’s record — and you didn’t even have the rope to hoop around its neck and jaw. 

Firstborn daughter excellence. 

Confidence restored and triumphing wildly to the pulse of your heart, the flickering smile on your face in wonder turned into a full-fledged smirk. At that moment, nothing mattered. It was just you and your victory. Proving father wrong. 

Feeling the ikran’s lifeforce through the bond, a shiver went down your back as his beady eye looked up at you, pupil shrinking and expanding rapidly while you both took a minute to catch your breaths after the fierce wrestling. 

“Gotcha,” you panted. “You’re mine now.”

The adrenaline made everything sparkle and shine, your spirits soaring high and unbothered about literally anything else in the world, and for one glorious moment, lost in the memories of your brothers’ iknimayas boasting with cheers from the clan and sometimes encouraging, sometimes fearful screams of your parents, your spirit sought them out to be soaked in the same pride — forgetting that it was night and nobody was there to celebrate you. 

You were all alone. 

The smile dropped from your face and crashed down like paper thin porcelain upon the slightest movement. 

Right. 

You’d forgotten you were doing this out of spite. It snuffed every twinkle of magic away from the previously shimmering milestone of your life. 

Your ikran felt the crushing disappointment through your connection and chirped at you, almost like an excited sibling pulling on your arm to show you something, weirdly comforting. Mom’s ikran was a spitfire, but also nurturing — this one felt different somehow, you felt him bouncing from wall to wall in your head, hyperactive and cheerful.

Flying! He wanted to fly! 

The first flight sealed the bond, after all. 

You weren’t alone even if none of your family members were here to share the joy — you had your new buddy. And the drop of gravity was thrilling this time, not the terrifying chaos that had your asshole shriveling up as it was when you’d missed your step. 

The flights with mom were something you looked forward to, drying up in frequency as you aged, you’d missed the wind on your body and the greenery dancing below as you maneuvered in the air — but mom reserved nighttime rides for father only, and after the move to High Camp, the skimpering chance you could get your way if you begged cutely enough was gone too. You’d never flown at night. 

The sight was out of this world. The stars leaving a glowing trail above you, the forest pulsing with faint purple, green and blue lights underneath, everything was elevated in beauty because darkness let them shine. 

You made loops in the air with your ikran, got as high in the air as you could before your breath thinned, and scraped at the tips of trees before shooting up again, all the while laughter you’ve never screamed before bubbled out of you. 

And you were all alone. There was no mom to gleefully taunt your ikran with hers to get both of you dancing in the air. There was no father to watch on with a small smile he was fighting. There was no Neteyam to stop you from dipping too close to the ground, and no Lo’ak to challenge you to get closer to race with him — no Kiri to complain how all of you were being so childish, how stupid this was all the while she was the worst of you all, instigating all the chaos. 

No Tuk in your mom’s lap whining about you guys leaving her off the fun. 

Instead, there was the scent of a bogey in the air, snapping you out of the haze of sorrow.

When had you ventured out further into unprotected territory? 

Linked with your thought process, the ikran stopped advancing forward and started beating his wings downward to stay unmoving, you observed the surroundings to get a better feeling of where you were, and noticed this was around the old shack, artificial lights were gliding between the leaves and branches that obscured your view of just who was roaming the grounds at night, definitely not a natural part of the forest’s flora.    

Father’s voice materialized in your head, drilled into you and your siblings’ heads over and over again. If you come across any threat at all, do not engage, fall back and inform me. Got it? You call for me first.

And that split second of being afraid was your death sentence — that father would be so angry at you for your ignorance, amateurism, carelessness and idiocy that he could throw you out of the family for almost leading the demons to base simply by being there that they could figure out what direction you’d come from. That moment of weakness was enough for someone to snipe you out, and get you falling down from your ikran straight into the forest below, the cries of your new friend falling silent on your ears as you did your best to hug giant leaves to cushion your fall to the best of your ability. . 

 Barely any time was left for you to shake the disorienting motion sickness off, you couldn’t even attempt to run into the accepting, protective hands of the forest before whoever just shot at you was onto you, harshly gripping your arms and raising you up. 

Father’s gonna be so mad if he finds out. Shit, I gotta get out of this. 

But… Avatars? In full camo, armored, even. You hadn’t heard of this from anybody in camp!

“Damn! Didn’t actually think you’d be able to land the shot from all of that tree, man! Up-top!”

Two of them high-fived, you were actually going to be sick. 

Thumb between his belt and stomach, another Avatar strutted towards you. The saunter and confidence meant that he was their leader. “Now, now… What do we have here?”

“A native.” You were being pushed down on your knees, one hand being grabbed and shown like a trophy. Just how many were there? You couldn't calm yourself enough to focus! “Four fingers.”

The speaker this time was a woman. “How unusual. Those monkeys don’t leave their coven at night.” 

“Where were you flying, little bird?” The leader, a sleazy smirk on his face, leaned down to take a good look at you. “Leading away from the nest, perhaps?”

“She don’t understand, Colonel, don’t bother. Ya think Sully could ever manage teaching one word of English to those?”

“Watch how she learns in three seconds.” He yanked on your queue so hard you saw white light in this hour of darkness — and when your vision came back, a screen with your father’s face was being shoved to your face. “Jake Sully. Toruc Mactoe. Where is he?”

You screamed when he pulled with increasing strength, keeping up with the act you didn’t understand. And the state of pain and terror massively helped, contributing to you looking frantic and lost, only knowing that you were being zapped to your core. 

“Seems like I don’t need to ask you.” His fingers snapped your head back to get a good look at your earpiece, late to notice you had it on at all because of the dark. “Can directly ask the man himself.” 

All you could form to think was, ‘Father’s gonna kill me for this. He’s actually gonna kill me this time.’

You weren't terrified of what the Avatars would do to you. You were afraid of him.

One empty shell from the reloaded machine gun flew away, tinkling hollow when it fell down, and rolled until it stopped in a small pool of water that had formed on the jagged ground of the cave systems. In the scarlet and orange glow of the campfire he’d haphazardly put together right outside of their home out of impatience after Neytiri had basically thrown him out, Jake almost mistook the liquid for blood. 

An ominous cloud of dread settled on his shoulders, a paranoia every father tended to go through.

“Big Brother, this is Devil Dog. State your status, over.”

Neteyam didn’t miss a beat to answer, thankfully. “Devil Dog, this is Big Brother. I’m still en route to Foxcove, over.”

“How much longer?”

“Ten minutes at best, sir. Over.”

What he wanted to say was how come he hadn’t met you halfway, but it was empty talk. No need to stress the boy out. “Devil Dog signing out.”

This girl was half the reason for the wrinkles on his forehead, Jesus Christ. He was basically waiting you out like a father sitting in the dark to ambush his daughter who had snuck out at night, for that single glorious moment of yeah that’s right, you got caught, after the light would come on to ruin that moment of relief of successfully making it back in. 

His mate had scolded him to be nice and understanding, a Marine was anything but, the closest he could compromise was not being as mean to you than he had to be. Sassing, “So how was your Iknimaya?” like he planned was out the window — Neytiri was spot-on to say the girl would simply give the same mean energy right back at him, and that could only mean another erupting volcano of a fight and a good night’s sleep ruined for him, overthinking where he went wrong and how else he could have salvaged the situation. 

He’d just make you tend to the ikrans for a week for some patience practice, cleaning shit for hours on a daily basis would certainly throw the temporary whim of the rite of passage hyperfixation out of your system. The possibility of you shouting you hated him was unavoidable, but Jake had to get his point across, no matter how terribly it nauseated him to hear something like that from his child. 

It was strange to remember he couldn’t care less for what people thought of him in the past. Some shithead he wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about hated Jake’s guts? Good. He was living in their head rent free, it was fun even — Neytiri too, Jake absolutely enjoyed her hating game at first. 

Being legitimately resented by his very own child, though, was a heartbreak he didn’t expect to hurt him the way it did, knocking air off his lungs the first time he heard it. A burning stab right in his heart that wouldn’t go away until he had to hear it for himself you hadn’t meant any of what you said.

Because that said hate actually stemmed from hurt Jake must have inflicted. Because you could actually despise him, and never allow him to reconnect with you again if he could ever manage to garner the courage to reach out to you — a mightier challenge than hunting Toruk in the sense it actually scared him.   

His teenage daughter. Scared him. 

Jake didn’t know what to do about it, he couldn’t even show what exactly this made him feel, too ashamed and proud for it in the first place. 

The growing distance between you and him was an uneasy, frightened bird he tried to shush and calm in his heart in favor of other pressing matters that drilled small holes in the depths of his stomach, and over time, those little holes had fused together to create one big pit with greater gravitational pull than the sun — until Jake didn’t know how to stitch them back together anymore. 

He told himself he would talk to you later, for sure. The morning after every argument, every fight, every jab from you he snapped at he would try to make amends for, definitely. 

And then he didn’t. 

“What is this, are you palulukan ambushing prey? I told you to make up with her, not prepare for hunting.”

Jake shook his head, dropping the machine gun back inside the crate. The warmed metal was some sort of consolation to his nerves. Marine habit. Always felt safer with a gun near. (Or was it the American in him?) “Neytiri,” he acknowledged, bobbing his head. “I’m just passing time.”

“What do you think will happen when she comes back and sees you waiting for her like this?”

Ah, like the old times when Jake couldn’t do one thing right in her eyes. “Yes, ma’am,” he said playfully, but with no mirth behind it, closing the crate with a muffled thunk. With nothing to do with them, one elbow went to his knee and the other hand’s fingers started a rhythm on the lid he’d just shut. 

His mate’s hand gingerly came down on his shoulder, kneading the nerves. “Just talk to her, Ma’Jake.”

“I don’t know how to,” he admitted, he covered her fingers on her shoulder with his, and she immediately held his hand back. “Don’t know what to even tell her.” He gave an exhale from the deeper, tired parts of his soul, gazing at the path leading away from their tent. “With Neteyam and Lo’ak, it’s easy. I tell ‘em what to do and they—”

Neytiri took a seat next to him, gathering their hands together. “Suffer just the same.” Jake was about to brush her off, but she didn’t relent. “What you’re doing is hurting them.”

This now was about all of their children rather than you, specifically. Neytiri was trying to get him to see the bigger picture first before moving to cover what he did wrong with each child of his, they had had this conversation countless times before. 

Here we go again, Jake thought.

“Doesn’t matter if that’s what it takes to keep them safe.”

“Does it?” Neytiri leaned in, and calmness washed over him despite the disturbing nature of what she was saying. “Does it keep them safe? Or push them to act out more, get in worse situations?”

He grimaced. “I have to—”

“You feel like you have to.” His mate shook their clasped hands, rattling his bones. “I keep my children safe with trust and honesty. Transparence, Ma’Jake. So that they listen to me when I mean it because they See me. You shut them out.” Her lips bared to show her pearly teeth as she was practically beseeching him. “You don’t get your children’s trust by treating them like a squad.”

“They trust me plenty.”

“They trust Olo’eyktan. Toruk Makto. What about their father?”

“I make sure they’re safe.” Neytiri dropped his hands with an agitated snarl, she thought they were back at the beginning again, he couldn’t make her truly understand no matter what he did. He poured his heart out through their tsaheylu everytime, but her values and beliefs were wired so differently from his at the end of the day. “I make sure they stay where I want them to stay for their own good.” Jake shook his head, his voice soft, hushed. No force behind it when Neytiri was heated in return. “One day they’ll understand.”

“They won’t if you never tell them.”

“Tell them what?” Jake asked. “That I’m being harsh on them to prepare them for war? You think they’ll take it seriously after this?”

“Na’vi were in war long before you. There will be wars after you. No parent sullied his child’s happiness for the price of becoming a warrior. You still don’t get our ways even after all these years.” 

“The sky people’s way,” Jake emphasized with his arms. “I have to teach them how they think, what they go through, so they know what they’ll be facing, okay? I can’t simply teach them by telling them.”

“You’re deluding yourself, Jake. Contradicting.” Neytiri was gentle in her cruelty, the flickering flames burned less than her amber eyes. “Tuk and Kiri are getting none of this. I know your heart isn’t allowing you. Why can’t you do the same for your other children?”

Because he had gone too far already with the older three. 

Trial and error. 

He couldn’t take back the things he did and say back — and quite honestly? Jake was being pulled from all sides to sit down and rethink his parenting. All he thought anymore was how to protect his family, frequent nightmares of losing his children in gruesome ways were haunting his every step. 

A father protects his children, that’s what gives him meaning. 

Jake had his own desperate ways to do so.  

He opened his mouth to say something back, anything, but was interrupted by the communication line coming on. “Dad.” 

Jake immediately knew something was wrong, body sitting ramrod straight. If the frantic breathing and barely controlled voice wasn’t any indication of it, his eldest’s behavior was. Neteyam didn’t slip up in the codenames like Lo’ak did, dropped all formalities only when he was borderline panicking.  

“Dad. I’m sorry, dad, sir, I can’t find her, dad, I’ve looked everywhere around here, I thought maybe she was hiding underwater, behind rocks—but I can’t, I can’t—.”

“Slow down.” Jake could barely contain his own panic rising from the state his son was in. The boy wasn’t able to see it, but he couldn’t stop himself from leaning in as if Neteyam was right in front of him, and started gesturing with his hand. “Slow down, son.”

“Dad—”

Jake tsk-ed. “Neteyam, slow. Slow.”

Neytiri took his elbow. “What is it?”

He told her to wait with his gaze, and turned his attention back to Neteyam. This could only mean one thing, he was praying to be wrong — needed clarification. “Now tell me calmer. What’s going on?”

“She’s never been here. She never came here in the first place. There’s no sign of her. No trace. I’ve tracked.”

Jake’s instant response was fear. Domineering, ice-cold, cutting fear. Bodily and emotionally both. You were clockwork, similar to him in having unchanging routines and patterns. Angry? Went for a walk. Depressed? No talking to anyone until it passed. Happy? Wanted to go to the forest to spend time with your siblings and always craved sweet fruit. Didn’t want to be around anyone? Hid in the little bioluminescent cove with a pond two little mountains away, always. Always.  

Neytiri sensed this, observing the change of demeanor in him.“Ma’Jake?”

“Okay, son.” He seized back control. One missing child was enough. “Stay right there and don’t move. I’ll contact you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Jake,” Neytiri hissed finally, at the end of her ropes.

“She didn’t go to the cove,” he said, face icy neutral as always, but his eyes showed dizzying concern. Neytiri put a hand on her mouth as Jake wasted no time in changing channels. “Night Owl, this is Devil Dog. Come in.” He couldn’t even wait two seconds before trying again. “Night Owl, what is your status? Where are you?” 

Silence.

The more fear dug deeper into his skin, the more his anger and annoyance soared up, his tail was whipping the air erratically, the finger on the earpiece could send the metal right into his brain with how hard he was pressing on it. “I know you can hear me. This is no time for playing games. You know what you did to your brother? Do you know how panicked he was, not being able to find you—” 

Then Jake remembered what Neytiri advised, he didn’t change strategies because she was right next to him to dig his eyes out, but because his heart was picking up its pace by the second. “Tell me where you are, I’ll leave you alone, I promise, alright? If you’re somewhere open, get to safety, I’m only asking this from you. Or else—”

“Don’t.” Neytiri raised a warning finger at him, voice just above a whisper so they could hear their daughter if she decided to cut in. “Threaten her.”

He couldn’t stop her from snatching the communication device off of him. “Ma’ite, it’s mom. Can you talk to me at least?”

His ears twitched at picking up on you responding, not quite making out the words.  

Jake’s eyes shut close for a long time as his whole eyebrow line migrated upwards, he physically had to get a few steps between him and the earpiece so the obliviating worry that’d almost blinded him wouldn’t cause him to say something he’d greatly regret later. He could feel himself deflating. A migraine could be coming anytime soon.

You wouldn’t even acknowledge his existence but the moment your mother interrupted, you did? Fine. Fine. He didn’t care. Jake could live with it. At least you were alive.

A rippling shudder shook him the moment that thought hit him, an image of you lying dead in a ditch, pale blue, flashing in his mind, he had to run a hand down his face. 

When Jake looked back, irked by the silence, he found Neytiri standing completely stock-still. And all of a sudden, her petrifying glare was on him, ears pinned all the way back, hands gradually starting to tremble. 

“Neytiri?” 

She wordlessly handed him the device, and with a deep frown, Jake put it back in his ear. 

“Hi there Corporal, you hear me? Yeah, I know you do. As much as I’m charmed by the fatherly love I could give you a big old sloppy wet kiss, we have unfinished business.”

And the ground disappeared right under Jake’s feet, plunging him into hell itself.

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[just-orbiting-you]

hi:) totally agree with your post. I guess I don’t understand why Tae posts what he does, when he does. It always seems semi calculated. He can’t *not* know that a lot of his fans are tkkrs. He even reposted something on his IG from a massive tkkr account, like? And it just always seems to divert the tkkrs attention back to him and jk in very calculated ways. Posting a travel pic and long caption just before the jikook travel show teaser is pretty on the nose lol. but I don’t understand, also he gets to have his nice time with his (was?) girlfriend and then also feeds the tkkrs(& of course gets jm hate in the process) the best of both worlds for him? strange.

hey anon!

i've had feelings about this for a long time. and i think you're exactly right: he has to be aware of his fan-base's preferences. of course this is just a theoretical idea but i think the conversation is worth having.

and going back to in the soop one, when he is talking to jungkook, tae says that he wants to know army loves him, he craves it (paraphrase). i would like to hazard a guess that he has searched for what will give him the exact attention he wants, and that is posting about jungkook.

i thought the shirtless facetime call pic was weird to post to back in december, with the caption "hyung is going in first, go safely tomorrow." jimin went too, you know, but no post for him. and taehyung playing the hyung card feels abnormal; i have not really witnessed that as a part of their dynamic. all of this to almost drift the conversation away from jikook enlisting together.

and OH MY GOD. the caption over jungkook's face today that says "so pretty i could die." that is like a t@ekook victory for them, but to me it screams fan service-y vibes. jikook are as close as they are and they're not running around instagram posting like that. sometimes other members would make comments on posts hyping each other up, but not to that degree. on a picture where you can barely see his face wearing a neon tracksuit, he's so pretty. good god. it just feels overly exaggerated for fan reaction.

with how he posts about jungkook, it just feels like 🙋‍♂️im here too!! 🙋‍♂️. i travel with jungkook too!! 🙋‍♂️ look at us.🙋‍♂️ im his hyung too!🙋‍♂️

and its kinda sad. because i think jungkook has made it clear who he chooses and i think it is purely incidental from him since he has other interests at heart.

and yeah, a lot of tae's behavior i am deeming as attention seeking jimin does the same in his lives, on his instagram, in regular conversation in other videos specifically about jungkook. BUT. the catch is, that there's a similar amount of video evidence that jungkook does the exact same thing about jimin. there's the reciprocation in jikook that t@ekook just do not have. point blank. which in itself, debunks the whole ship.

so the evidence is piling up around tae that he has a flippant, spontaneous, almost irresponsible facade, but actually could be choosing to purposefully attract attention to himself for his own benefit through the use of his younger bandmate. again, a theoretical, but thanks for joining in on my thoughts.

[builtbybrokenbells]

Gold Dust Woman | iii

A confession that was long overdue makes life even more complicated than before. Y/n has to make the hard decision of logic or emotion, only to realize that the answer she is so desperately seeking brings even more questions, and holds no comfort at all.

Read part two here

Pairing: jake kiszka x f!reader, sam kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 13.1k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex (wrap it), fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!reveiving), oral (m!receiving), face-fucking, choking, praise, touch of orgasm denial, biting, overstimulation, name calling, pet-names, multiple orgasms (male & female), dirty talk, some fluff, angst if you squint (light arguing, mostly just the plot line angst), feelings of guilt, swearing, sorry if i miss any!

howdy. im back from the dead 😁 here’s a little apology for all you wonderfully patient people. thanks for sticking with me ♥️ this is basically porn with plot. sorry if it’s not fantastic, i really wanted to get this out for you guys so some parts are a bit rushed and it’s poorly edited. as always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes 🫶🏻

“Why now, Sam?” You asked, still trying to wrap your head around the information. His hand was still resting atop yours, the heat of his skin searing and the feeling just as electrifying. He didn’t respond, just took the opportunity to watch your face, studying the details like he was dependent upon it. You raised your eyebrow, prying for an answer.

“Now is as good as any time, right? Something about living in the moment, or whatever.” He shrugged, the boyish charm of his humour showing. While it usually made you swoon, now it was infuriating.

“No, not really.” You laughed, but it wasn’t because the situation was humorous. You had no idea what else to do, and that was the only sound that wanted to make an appearance. “Maybe a few months ago? Last week? Last night, even?”

“Why does it matter?” He asked, thinking he could catch you in your lie.

“Because it does!” You exclaimed, keeping your voice as quiet as possible. The last thing you wanted was to make a scene and get everyone else involved. To get Jake involved, more specifically. “I’ve been in love with you for…” you paused, looking past him and settling your gaze on the wall. You needed to gather your thoughts before continuing. Your emotions were high, which never meant anything good. You much preferred to use logic instead of emotion, and the last two days had been completely void of anything logical. “A long time, Sam.” You finally said, looking back to him. “A really long time, and you never gave me any idea that you felt the same way.”

“You never said anything, either.” He defended, a sinking feeling settling in his stomach. Had he known you felt so strongly for him, he might have acted sooner.

“Because every time you come over, you always seem to want to talk to every girl other than me. You always acted like I was just another one of the guys, not that you liked me, too.” You could see the look of regret form on his face, but you didn’t feel bad for saying it. You were hurt, completely baffled that he’d waited so long. “And the one night…” you took a deep breath, forcing the words to come out, even if you didn’t want them to. “The one night I wasn’t sitting there watching you, waiting for you to pay attention to me like a lost puppy, is the night you notice. The night I finally decided to have fun, instead of just existing, you happen to be watching me, too. The night you see another guy paying attention to me was when you finally decided to speak up? Like I was only worth liking when you were scared you couldn’t have me?”

“No, y/n. It’s not like that.” He shut the idea down, realizing how bad it looked, now. “I mean, yeah, it definitely made me want to speak up, to say something before I lost the chance, but that’s not why I’m telling you.”

“Months, Sam. You can’t tell me you didn’t notice. My entire world revolves around you, and you waited until someone else made a move?” You didn’t realize the extent of your words; once you said them, his demeanour changed.

“So, it was more than a game of beer pong?” He questioned, but he didn’t sound angry. Your stomach dropped, realizing you had sold yourself out. When you didn’t respond, he took it as more than enough of an answer. A small smile graced his lips, one that was more than unexpected. You didn’t like the look in his eye, like you’d just lit a fire inside him. “I have competition?”

“No, Sam.” You shook your head, shutting it down before he could go any further. “No competition. Not a game, or a race. This isn’t like that.” But he wasn’t listening, already straightening up in his seat with a smirk adorned on his lips, like he’d been waiting to reveal this idea to you, but didn’t know when he should. “Sam,” you warned. He moved his hand from yours, making a move to stand, now. You got up, too, not willing to let him leave without any more conversation. Once you were both standing, he didn’t turn away. Instead, he stepped towards you, brushing your hair from your face. Your heart sped at the sudden contact, not expecting it.

“It’s okay,” he assured you, running his thumb over your cheek. You couldn’t help but lean into him, feeling the same gravitational pull you felt with his brother. Maybe it was a Kiszka thing, or it was just something they had in common. That, you weren’t sure of. You were sure of the heavenly feeling of his hand on you, and how badly you wanted to stay like that, forever. “You can have your fun with him, because I know you’ll end up with me, princess. I’ll make sure of it.” He promised, no tone of joking present within the statement.

“Sam,” you breathed, wanting to put a stop to the situation before it could start. Even so, you couldn’t help but feel your head swirl at the closeness of his face. The scent of incense was still lingering on his clothes even after a long night of drinking, captivating you and pulling you in even further. Through all the similarities you’d noticed between him and his brother, the feeling of their touch was so different. Both fantastic, but so unlike one another. The idea of kissing Sam was almost comforting, like a promise of safety after a long journey. The thought of kissing Jake felt almost forbidden, like it had to be kept a secret, but it was exhilarating. It was a battle of thrill and security; you’d never had much of an issue with it before, but now it seemed impossible to choose.

“Why are you saying my name like that? I haven’t even done anything to deserve it, yet.” He hummed, pulling you into him a little more. You were certain he could sense the effect his words had on you. Your chests were practically pressed together, heartbeats synced and rapid. You were torn, stuck between the satisfaction of finally having him in such a way, and guilt for doing it behind Jakes back. For something you’d been wishing about for so long, it was producing a lot of conflicting emotions.

Unbeknownst to you, Jake was well aware of what was happening in the kitchen. He’d caught on as soon as Sam followed you in there, and he wasn’t mad about it. Anyone with a set of eyes could tell you had feelings for Sam, but he was confident in his ability to win you over, too. Both boys had the same deadly mindset, no worry in their mind that they would lose the game. Their cockiness and determination was leaving them blind to the reality of the situation. Both were so certain they could win you over that they were forgetting they were playing with real emotions, yours and their own.

But, it’s nothing if not human nature to be selfish, and in this specific triad, greed was the only motivator.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” You finally said, but you knew you didn’t mean it; there was nothing you wanted more.

“No?” He questioned, using his finger to tilt your chin upwards. “You want me to stop?” You wanted to say yes, to push him away and forget the whole thing ever happened, but you couldn’t seem to find the strength within yourself to do so. His stare was captivating and his touch was invigorating.

“Just kiss me.” You expelled, once again unwilling to think about any consequences. Permission was all he needed to proceed. He leaned down, capturing you in a kiss that was sweet enough to make you forget your worry. It was different than any you’d had before; filled with emotion and not reliant on lust. It was over soon after it started, and unlike the moments you shared with Jake, the ending of the kiss with Sam left you with a feeling of fulfillment and relief. For the first few seconds, at least. Then, a crashing wave of panic followed.

He picked up on your change of demeanour, immediately pulling you into an embrace to soothe the after effects. He held you to him, hand rubbing circles in over your back in attempt to calm you down. “Hey, it’s okay.” He assured you, finally realizing that he may have put a little too much pressure on you. When you didn’t respond, he pulled back to get a look at your face. He wasn’t expecting you to pull him into another kiss, shocked at the suddenness of your actions.

He snaked his hand to your hip, the other cupping your cheek in a loving hold. This one was hungrier, a type of desperation laced within it. He assumed it was for him, but in truth, it was desperation for an answer. You thought if you could pinpoint the exact emotion the kiss produced within you, it would make your choice a lot easier. For a moment, it did. When you pulled away, it seemed like the world made sense again. The comfort from the short moment you shared with him was incomprehensible; something you’d been yearning for forever. The logical thing would be to let Jake go, to understand that at the end of the day, you had real feelings for Sam that had been solidified even further with time. To understand the animalistic nature of your attraction to Jake was just that, and nothing more.

The right way to go about it was to end your entanglement with Jake, and pursue the relationship with Sam. You understood that had this happened just a day sooner, there would be no internal debate or struggle about being with Sam. You had to act based on that, because bouncing between both boys was immoral and wrong. The last thing you wanted to do was hurt either of them, and allowing things to continue as such would only result in a catastrophic failure. But, even as you came to terms with the fact of the matter, you still felt saddened at the thought of losing Jake. You wanted Sam, that much was undeniable, but just within a day, Jake had earned a spot in your heart and didn’t seem to want to leave.

You yearned for the opportunity to be with Sam for so long that you seemed to put him on an untouchable pedestal. One where he was almost angelic and was viewed as if he could do no wrong. That was the issue with crushes, because it always made the subject appear like they were above all else. And, the idea of them was solely based on imagination. Whereas with Jake, you had actually been with him. Your idea of him wasn’t a fallacy; it was more real than anything you had ever shared with Sam. You knew his hands, his mouth, and his ability to bring you to your knees with just a glance. The version of Sam you had in your head was complete fantasy, and the idea of Jake was reality. And because of that, he was settled in your bones like sediment and was weighing you down while you tried to make the right decision.

“You’re evil,” You sighed, looking over his face. He gave a small chuckle in response, still hesitant to let you go.

“I never said I would make it easy on you.” He teased, giving you a smile. “Think about it, princess. You don’t have to give us an answer right now.”

“You’re asking me an impossible question.”

“Not impossible, just difficult.” He corrected, as if it would make you feel any better. “Like I said, I’m not worried.” You fought back an eye-roll at his statement. He was so caught up in his own cockiness to realize you were hurting over it. This was not the position you wanted to be in, and although he wasn’t helping, you had dug your own grave by giving in to temptation for both of them.

The sounds of footsteps in the hallway caused both of you to part, shying away from each other as if you’d committed a crime. You quickly sat back down, burying your face in your cup of coffee to hide your rosy cheeks and guilty expression. Danny and Josh walked into view, almost immediately picking up on the tense nature in the room. Danny looked as if he was about to comment on it, but decided not to. He always seemed to notice when you were acting out of the ordinary. “I think we’re gonna head out. You coming?” He eventually asked Sam. The boy looked to you one last time, but gave a nod. “We’re still on for lunch, tomorrow?” Danny turned his attention to you, now.

“Yeah, of course. I’ll pick you up at 12?”

“Yeah, perfect.” He agreed.

“Thanks for coming over.” You smiled. “I’m sure you’ll be back soon?”

“You can’t get rid of us that easily.” Josh assured you. You bid your goodbyes, eyes following them as they walked towards the front door. You listened for the sound of the door shutting before slumping down into your seat. You pulled your head into your hands, fingers tangling in the roots of your hair and gently pulling at them.

You knew what you had to do, but you wanted to process it before having to face Jake. You could hear the gentle hum of the guitar from the living room, taunting you with serenity. The sound was much too calming for your situation. The idea of joining him in the living room produced nothing but unease within you; knowing you had to go in there and tell him to leave was agonizing, because deep down, you still wanted him to stay. You were completely caught in your own mess but couldn’t find the strength to have sympathy for yourself, knowing you’d created it all on your own. Right vs. Wrong was barely existing within you, because every possibility seemed to be a little bit of both.

You thought that the shared moment with Sam would have solved everything, that it would have made the turmoil make sense. In a strange way, it did. In many more ways, it made it worse. So, you stood, no real plan in mind, and walked to the living room with intent to settle your mistakes, to right them in some sense, even if you weren’t sure how to. When you appeared in the entryway, Jake didn’t even seem to notice your presence. Instead of announcing it, you watched him for a moment, admiring him while you still could. His hair was framing his face, cascading down in a sea of brown and perfectly showcasing his features. His eyes were settled on his hand, gracing the fretboard with their talent. He seemed to be playing so effortlessly, like it was more natural than breathing. You supposed, to him, it was.

You didn’t notice the trance you’d found yourself in until he looked up at you. The simple eye contact was powerful enough to steal the air from your lungs. It only took a smile for you to forget what you’d come to talk to him about. “Alone at last, Gold Dust Woman.”

‘Fuck.’ you thought to yourself. As confident as you were in your decision, your ability to follow through was diminishing more by the second. ‘Damn him and his pretty face.’

“Come to break the bad news?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. Your blood ran cold, unsure of how he knew without you even speaking a word. He gave a small smirk at the expression on your face, wondering if you would come clean or not.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” you said once you’d gathered your thoughts. He let out a chuckle, shaking his head at you.

“I told you, angel. You’re not a very good liar.” He searched beside him, finding the case for the guitar. He unplugged the cord before gently setting the instrument where it belonged.

“M’sorry,” you mumbled, unsure of what exactly you were apologizing for. Part of you felt it was because it was a show of guilt for your actions, the other part of you thought it may be because you were ending whatever you’d started with him.

“For?” He questioned, sitting back against the cushion of the couch. In place of an answer, you stared, realizing you still hadn’t made up your mind, despite being certain you had. Maybe it was his aura, so intense and alluring, or perhaps it was due to the unfulfilled promise you had made to each other. Either way, any coherent decision and moral was long gone now that he was in front of you. “Hmm?” You swallowed hard, only focused on his hand resting in his lap. The curious hand that started it all, the one that contained all of his power.

“I, uh…” his eyes never left your face, making your nervous demeanour even worse. He expelled a long breath, almost as if he was annoyed for having to answer for you again.

“Sorry that you were sneaking around with my brother?” He theorized. “Or sorry that you were caught?”

“How did you know?” You finally mustered the strength to speak up. He gave a shrug, one that radiated carelessness. He didn’t give a single shit about what you’d done with Sam, and it was blatantly obvious.

“It’s written all over your face, sweetheart.” He let out a laugh, like he couldn’t believe you were so oblivious to your own stature. “Everyone knows you like Sam, y/n. We’re not blind.”

“So why did you start whatever this is?” You asked, feeling annoyance bubble in your chest. If he was so aware of your feelings, there was no logical reason for him to instigate a relationship with you.

“I can’t give you all of the answers.” He replied, nonchalant and unapologetic for his actions.

“At least give me some!” Your frustration was apparent; both boys had been elusive and indirect about their motives, and it was driving you insane. If their intent was to drive you crazy, it was working. He let out a little sigh, as if your inquiries were an inconvenience.

“You like Sam, Sam likes you.” He stated, as if he were explaining the situation to a child. You clenched your teeth, slowly becoming more angry as he continued on. “I like you, you like me.” He paused again, waiting for confirmation of the fact. You wanted to shut the idea down, deny that you had any interest in him. But, you couldn’t, because it simply wasn’t true. If you had no feelings for Jake, it would have been easy to tell him to leave, to end the debate without a second thought. Instead, you were struggling with the simple idea, let alone the execution. As much as you hated to admit it, you did like Jake, and you liked him way more than you originally thought.

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“Now we have a level playing field.” He shrugged. “If you’re going to pick between us, it should at least be a fair decision.”

“So you guys decided this on your own?” You couldn’t help but feel a bit betrayed at the knowledge, that they’d let you drown in guilt and regret while they knew what was happening the whole time.

“I think you decided it, too, actually.” He explained. “You haven’t told me to leave yet.”

“Okay, leave.” You snipped, crossing your arms over your chest in annoyance. He laughed at your command, finding the bossy persona entertaining.

“Is that really what you want, sweetheart?” The longer you looked at him, the more you felt the urge to strangle him. Something about his air of superiority was insufferable; the nature of his entitlement was off-putting, almost like he knew you were bluffing, even before you did. You couldn’t find the strength to confirm your statement, because the truth was that you were dreading his departure.

The whole situation was ridiculous, completely unnecessary and utterly pointless. In the battle of winning you over, they didn’t seem to realize that they were only pitting themselves against each other. The promise of affection from you simply wasn’t enough to excuse the loss of their relationship, and you wanted them to understand that before they took it too far. You were well aware of how dangerous the game was, but even so, you were enjoying it despite the fact. Something about being loved by a Kiszka was euphoric, and to have it from both of them was more than enough of a reason to ignore any potential consequences.

“This isn’t a good idea, Jake.” You whispered.

“It’s a better idea than one of us sitting back and suffering in silence. We both have a fair shot, now.” You shook your head, baffled at his inability to see the issue. “We know what we’re doing, angel.” He promised. “Now, tell me the truth. Do you really want me to leave?” You felt dirty even holding a desire for him to stay. The idea of being pursued by both brothers was thrilling, but unsettling, especially knowing that it was bound to be a catastrophe. Knowing that they were aware of the situation and were actively trying to win you over was no comfort; all it served was a reminder that they were obviously not thinking clearly. You knew you should shut it down, stop it before anything bad could happen, but that pull he possessed was stronger than ever. You felt like you were gravitating towards him without even realizing it, with no means to stop it.

He stood, now, slowly making his way towards you. The gentle nature of his movements were like a cloud of a reassurance, a silent promise that he would take care of you and aid you in forgetting any of the worries you had. It was their charm in action once again; both of them had the ability to make you see past even the worst of decisions. The air surrounding him even radiated with a sense of calmness, like everything would be okay as long as he was around.

As his hands landed on your hips, your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling. Morally, you knew you should have recoiled, shied away from his touch and told him to leave. You came in with the intent to do so, and still hadn’t let go of the nagging thought. Then again, you felt the same way when Sam was touching you like so. Afterwards, you seemed to have a new found sense of clarity. You thought that the clarity might make a reappearance if you kissed Jake, that the decision would be so much easier if you allowed it one last time. That way, you could have an unbiased opinion on both feelings, and make a plan accordingly. You repeated that thought in your head until you believed it.

Once again, you’d failed to see the repercussions of your actions, blinded by your own stupidity and lack of self-control. In no world was allowing the kiss an intelligent decision. But, you wanted him so badly that in the moment, it seemed only right to do so. The devil was a master at his own game, and you’d fallen right into his trap. As certain as you may have been about your course of action upon your arrival, deep down you knew that Jake would never let you go so easily. “You should go, Jake.” You managed to get the words out, despite not wanting to say them. He was close enough that you could practically feel the warmth radiating off him. His face was just close enough to taunt you, his lips so easily accessible that it was hard to think of anything else.

“I didn’t ask if I should, I asked if you wanted me to leave.” He reminded, the low hum of his voice vibrating through you. You took in a long breath, keeping your eyes closed in hopes it would help you to follow through with your statement. “Because if I remember correctly, you were the one who wanted me to stay.”

“That was before everything got complicated.” You said, barely speaking loud enough for him to hear.

“I don’t think it’s complicated at all, angel.” He lifted a hand to your face, cupping your cheek with the utmost care and caution. Your heart was pounding against your ribs, stomach twisted in a knot, knowing that if you didn’t put a stop to his antics, you’d end up in the same position as you were the night prior. “I made you a promise, and I intend to keep it.” The devil inside you was partnering with the one that was possessing him, pushing you further into his arms. “If that’s what you want, of course.”

You did; you’d been starving for it since he’d given you the first taste. Even if it was wrong, the temptation was too high to turn him away. “You’re despicable,” you breathed, finding the truth of the statement proper for both brothers. Relentless and utterly despicable in their charm.

“You like it.” He taunted, knowing all too well that he was correct. He awaited a verbal answer, but the time for talking was through. Before he could get another word out, you leaned forward and closed the gap between your mouths. As much as he was hoping for the outcome, he was shocked at the suddenness of your motion. It only took him a few seconds to catch up to speed, pulling you into him and responding with as much enthusiasm as you were giving him. The internal struggle you were caught up in was immediately silenced; the only thing that mattered was him, and how you never wanted to forget how it felt to have him on your skin.

When you broke away from each other, you were too far gone to take a moment to reassess the situation, only thinking about the promises of the night prior. There was no more debate on whether he should leave. The thought of not finishing what you had started was unbearable; the idea of his departure was excruciating. You decided that you could decide later, that the damage was already done and you were only allowing yourself to be fully educated before picking your path. You could wallow in your guilt later, but for the moment, Jake was the only thing you could think about.

The human ability to overlook pain for momentary pleasure is abstruse.

“Still want me to leave?” He asked, breathless from the kiss. Although yes was the best answer to his question, you were aware that he wouldn’t even make it to the door before you were chasing after him.

“Shut up,” you snapped, still annoyed from the events that unfolded, and on edge from the pent up sexual tension. His grip on you tightened at the harsh words, picking up on your energy and preparing to match it. “Are you going to finish what you started?”

“Don’t expect to speak to me like that and get what you want.” He warned, lips still hovering over your own. You didn’t cower under the authority, too worked up to submit just yet.

“You can’t walk away either, and you know it.”

“Don’t be so sure about that.” He muttered. He knew he wouldn’t, but he absolutely could if he wanted to. He’d mustered the strength to do it once, and he knew he could do it again. Instead of continuing the bickering, you snaked your hand around to the back of his neck and pulled him into another kiss. It was needy, both of you trying to make up for the state you left each other in the night before. A messy struggle ensued, a battle of trying to remove each others clothes without breaking a kiss.

He managed to free you from your shirt, only breaking away from you for a second. You took the opportunity to do the same to him, wasting no time returning back to each other. Now his hands had the opportunity to roam your upper body; the feeling of him on you was better than you remembered it, perhaps because you were sober, or maybe just because you wanted him so badly. It didn’t really matter which it was, you only cared about him never stopping. He guided you towards the couch, neither of you bothered by the fact you were still in the living room. You had both come to the conclusion that the bedroom was too far away and were content with the current location.

Once you were secure on the sofa, he hooked his fingers through the sides of your shorts, pulling them off in a swift motion. There was no more willingness to wait, you were both starving for each other. He settled between your legs, reminding you so strikingly of the night prior that you were almost scared he would leave again. Your worry subsided when his hands returned to your body, knowing no other thought could override how he was making you feel. His lips curiously drifted over every available part of you, remembering every sensitive spot while he used the gesture to appreciate you all at the same time.

You could tell his patience had greatly diminished since the night before. He seemed less concerned with teasing, focused more on catching you up to his speed than anything else. In that moment, you understood just how hard it was for him to walk away from you. His plan had worked; you hadn’t stopped thinking about him once, but he achieved it at a price. His determination for the long game had faltered, and he was caught in your web just as much as you were in his. His silence spoke volumes, proving further that fucking you had been the only thing on his mind.

His fingers slipped between your legs, the act as natural as breathing for him. He took a moment to appreciate the arousal that had begun to pool, but didn’t hover too long. His thumb found its way to your clit, barely applying any pressure. Even so, the small action caused your breath to hitch in your throat. A hard realization washed over you; his hands didn’t only posses such power when you were drunk and everything seemed fantastic. You were sober, no diminished inhibitions and all normal brain power restored, and he still felt better than anything you had ever experienced. The devil inside him was constant, not encouraged by intoxication or any other means. The version of Jake you knew from the night before was the same one in front of you, now. You were gutted at the thought, knowing that liquor didn’t have any effect on the situation; he was just as charming, and you were just as willing to fall for it.

He gradually increased the pressure of his thumb, the small action quickly turning you into a mess below him. He barely had to touch you to drive you crazy. He watched your face, intent on seeing every micro-expression you were willing to make. He had yet to speak a word, and you almost didn’t want him to. As good as he made you feel, there was a part of you that was still pissed off at him. You continued to tell yourself that this was solely to settle the score, to finish what you started and move on, but you knew it wasn’t true. The intense emotions incurring within you were a direct result of his minuscule actions. Without a doubt, that told you that whatever your situation was, it wouldn’t end with your orgasm. It was far beyond sex, now. If it was just a hookup, or just for the sake of sex, you would have no issue telling him to leave. If you wanted to hook up with someone, all you had to do was go to the nearest bar. Whatever this was, was laced with emotion and coated with complexity. Even with his hands on you so intimately, you were terrified of him walking out the door.

When his fingers slipped inside you once more, you were ashamed to admit that the thought of Sam was long gone. Whatever evil Jake was doing, he was doing it unfathomably well. The spell he casted over you made it impossible to think of anything other than him, and it was terrifying. You knew that even with the knowledge of a future filled with suffering, that moment made it all worth it. The things you were willing to do to keep having him like this was despicable, and they made you feel dirty for even thinking such a way. But, as you grew to understand in the last twenty-four hours, Jake was inescapable, and part of you was okay with that. As much as it made the nature of your predicament so much more complicated, it radiated an air of comfort. That was another revelation that made your decision so much harder; the thought of cutting him off was unbearable, but the idea of continuing on as such was anxiety inducing. No matter which way you looked at it, every possibility seemed terrible.

“Does that feel good, angel?” The gravelly tone immediately stopped any forebodings before they could surface. In an instant, just with a few words, he had you completely immersed in his being once more. His caring nature seemed to be genuine, but there was a distant look in his eye that made you second guess the sincere impression. You thought maybe it was a question pertaining to his ego, and the idea did not take you as a surprise in the slightest. Still, with how generous his actions were, you had no problem feeding into him a little bit.

“Feels so good, baby.” You sighed, reaching down and cupping his cheek in your palm. The pet name seemed to spark a fire in him, his eyes darkening and his jaw clenching. He took in a long breath through his nose, seeming to relax him and allow him to focus back on his objective. He sped his movements slightly, letting his thumb brush over your clit with every pump of his fingers. “God, please don’t stop.” You whined, back arching off the cushion of the couch begging for just a bit more contact.

“Being so good for me, baby.” He stated, his mind clearly fully immersed in your face. “You know I’ll give you whatever you want.” And he wasn’t lying, although the terms were subjective and almost always his own. You had little say on when you could get what you wanted. Still, you knew that anything at all from Jake was well worth the world, even if you had to suffer first. “You gonna cum for me?” He asked, picking up on the furrow of your eyebrows, the slight part in your lips and the laboured breathing. Even if he’d only seen the expression once before, he could recognize it anywhere. It hadn’t left his mind.

“Y-Yeah,” you stuttered, eyes squeezed shut and the burning in the pit of your stomach growing more intense with every second that passed. You both knew it wouldn’t take much more, but you were afraid he would pull away before you could. Jake’s arrogance left you constantly on edge, wondering if his words were true or laced with deception. Not in a terrible, untrustworthy way, but in a sense so minor that it made you second guess yourself, slowly driving you insane and leaving you begging for more. He’d never lie to you about anything important, but he was quite keen on being an asshole in the bedroom. That was part of his whole wicked agenda. You were certain he only harnessed such a persona to keep you guessing what his next move was, to keep you on his hook.

“Come on, angel.” He encouraged. The three words sent a rush of relief through you, settling the fear and letting you know he wanted it just as badly. He didn’t have to work much harder, because within a few seconds you were coming undone. It was a mess of heavy breathing and slurs of moans decorated with his name. He coaxed you through it, soaking up every detail of the experience as he watched you. “So beautiful,” he breathed, muttering the words to himself as you came down from the high. You would have missed his statement if you had not been immersed in every word and action he gave. Another rush of emotion ran through you, but this one was different than the normal feeling of arousal he usually produced within you. It was endearing, the type of statement that made your cheeks heat with a blush and a smile fight its way onto your lips. It was genuine, and you were certain you could live a lifetime surviving solely off of compliments from him.

He made a move to stand, sending you into a panic, worried he would decide he was going to leave again. He gave a small chuckle at your expression as he steadied himself on his feet. “Don’t leave.” You sat up, head still buzzing from the intensity of the orgasm. You planted your palms on the cushion of the couch to keep yourself upright. “Please.”

“I’m not, baby. Don’t worry.” He reached out, guiding your chin upwards with his hand so he could get a good look at your face. The worry in your eyes was evident, but the sincerity in his face rivalled it. You gave a small nod, opting to trust him. Your eyes drifted downwards, settling on the bulge in his jeans. He was clearly worked up himself, maybe even more than you were. He released his gentle hold on your face to undo his belt. You took in a long breath, trying to keep your excitement from showing to much.

He tossed the belt to the side, continuing his work at freeing himself from his pants. When his jeans and boxers were discarded on the floor, you bit down on the inside of your lip to keep yourself from letting out a gasp. He stood, fully exposed in front of you, and even more attractive than you could have imagined. You were no stranger to the fact that Jake was beautiful, but the sight before you was breathtaking. His cock was eye level with you, tip red and glistening with pre-cum, and even larger than anticipated. Your mouth was practically watering, and you felt your arousal growing more by the second. You reached out, grabbing his hand and pulling him a little closer to you. Before he could comprehend what you were doing, you had slipped off the couch and onto your knees in front of him.

You took him into your mouth, and although he wasn’t expecting it, it was more than welcomed. The relief he felt from the small act was quite evident. He let out a low groan, bringing his hand to the back of your head and gathering your hair. He kept a gentle hold on the strands, not enough to cause you any discomfort, but enough for you to know that he was still in control. You slowly worked yourself up to speed, focusing on the head for a moment before gaining the confidence to take him further. He didn’t push you, content with anything you were willing to give him. Despite his silence on the matter, he was desperate for you, too. After you familiarized yourself with him, your need for him grew. You relaxed your jaw, allowing easier access, and took him as far as you could. Once the feeling became less foreign, you started at a steady pace.

His grip in your hair tightened and his breathing sped, a sure sign that he thought you were doing a good job. “Fuck, y/n.” He groaned, doing his best to stop himself from thrusting in time with your movements. “Doing such a good job, angel.” He didn’t want to push you, but you were both at the point of forgoing any gentle nature. The pent-up frustration from recent events were coming to an explosive climax; any and all formalities of the first time were no longer needed, and the lust was driving you both feral for each other. Your gaze fluttered up to meet his face, your stature refusing to falter. When he caught your eyes, it looked as though it flipped a switch inside of him. His jaw hardened, stare narrowing and the hold on your hair grew tighter still. He pulled you off him for a moment, taking a second to catch his breath.

When your eyes connected, it was almost as if an unspoken agreement was made. As if he’d turned into a whole different person, an aura of dominance surrounded him with just a slight expression change. “Tap my leg twice if you want me to stop.” He ordered. You gave a nod, understanding that you were giving up any control you had previously. If it was anyone else, you might have been nervous to do so, but not with Jake. As much as he could piss you off by times, you trusted him in every sense of the word. “I need to hear the words.”

“I will.” You promised, assuring him you would be honest. He looked over your face for any sign of discomfort, but he was met with an excited expression. With that confirmation, any loving undertone in his concern disappeared. He roughly guided your head back to its earlier position, the tip of his cock resting on your lips. You had to take a second to process the sudden change, but wasn’t fast enough for his liking.

“Open.” He snapped. Your shock over the harsh word was evident, but the change was welcomed. You felt a burning sensation in the pit of your stomach, excited at the change in pace. You did as he asked, and he wasted no time taking advantage of the compliance. He started slower than you anticipated, but it didn’t last for long. Once you had adjusted to him once more, he held your head in place and set his own pace with his hips. You did your best to keep up with him, trying to steady your breaths and relax your muscles as much as you could. You had confidence in your ability, but you had to admit that it wasn’t an easy task. If he decided to push you further, you knew it was a possibility that you would have trouble taking his whole length, especially at such a pace. Still, you persevered, knowing that pleasing him was just as, if not more pleasurable than getting off yourself.

“You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” He growled. The blunt statement settling inside you, weighing you down like concrete had replaced your bones. The filthy praise was exhilarating, almost sending you into another orgasm from the sound alone. The new rush of arousal that took over you was primal, all fear of underperformance disappearing instantly. You reached your hand between your legs, fingers immediately finding your clit. You desperately searched for some sort of relief while he used you as he pleased.

The whole display was obscene, certainly not where you had expected to end up when you first joined him in the living room. Still, you couldn’t find it within yourself to be upset at the shift in plan. As immoral as it was, having sex with Jake seemed to ignite a whole new part of you that you weren’t sure even existed before. After years of lighthearted flings with boys who tried too hard to act like men, you believed sex was never going to be wholeheartedly enjoyable. Instead, it felt more like a chore by times. Just one night with Jake had you rethinking the entire belief, and now experiencing it again solidified the fact that you were wrong. Never in your life had you been so elated to be wrong about something.

As Jake noticed where your hand ended up, the knowledge seemed to fuel him further. As he fucked your mouth, he used his hand to push your head down in time with his thrusts. Even though you were content with the action, you had to admit that it was a little hard to handle. Your eyes were watering and you fought back a gag with every movement of his hips. You kept his words in mind, knowing that if you wanted him to stop, he would in a heartbeat. You decided you could keep up for a little while longer, mostly because you believed he wouldn’t be able to maintain his pace for any length of time. His breathing was ragged, he was glistening with sweat, and the moans slipping from his lips were pornographic. If he didn’t slow down, you were certain he was going to cum.

One particularly deep thrust caught you off guard, causing the gag you’d been holding back to surface. Your throat constricted around him while a few tears involuntarily slipped down your cheek. In your messy state, you felt his cock twitch in your mouth. Before you had time to worry if he was going to orgasm or not, he withdrew from you completely. It took him a moment before he moved or spoke. He had to calm himself down before you moved on to something new. After a few deep breaths, he carefully released his hold on your hair. His hand drifted to your cheek and he used his thumb to wipe away the stray tears that still lingered on your skin. Then, he guided your chin upwards so you he could fully see your face. He took in the sight, wishing he could sear it into his memory.

“Such a good girl,” he hummed, eyes flickering down to your hand between your legs. “Do you like being a little whore for me?” You watched him, wide-eyed and unsure of how to answer. You felt frozen, stopping your hands movement completely, wondering knowing if he wanted a verbal answer or if it was a trick question. His hand cupped your chin, settling it in the space between his thumb and index finger. When you didn’t respond, his fingers tightened against your cheeks, trying to pry a response from you. “Answer me,” his voice was low, but demanding.

“Yes,” you nodded against his grip.

“Yes, what?” You studied him for a moment, trying to pinpoint his desire. When you caught his eye, the answer seemed to come to you with ease.

“Yes, Sir.” You said, confidently. Although he wanted to keep his demeanour firm, you couldn’t help but notice that the corners of his lips upturned ever so slightly. You could both feel the connection; how easy it was to read each other, how easy it was to please each other.

“That’s it, sweetheart.” He muttered, loosening his grip on your face. “You liked it so much you couldn’t even wait for me to touch you?” Redness sprawled across your face at the question, suddenly embarrassed at the act of desperation. You quickly moved your hand, but the feeling of shame remained. “Don’t be shy, angel. S’okay.” He assured you, settling the unease that had risen within you. “Why don’t you let me help you out?” Your eyes fluttered closed, already imagining the feeling of him between your thighs again. After the thought passed, you thought it best to answer before he could change his mind.

“Yes, please.” You breathed. He let go of your face, reaching for you hand. You accepted the gesture and let him help you off the ground, noticing the ache in your knees from the hard floor.

He guided you to the couch once more, never straying from you as you sat down. He didn’t speak another word before he sunk down to his knees. He settled between your legs so naturally, like it was where he had always belonged and he’d been grievously suffering from homesickness. He hooked his arms under your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the cushion as he guided your legs over his shoulders. As he placed soft kisses to the sensitive skin of your thighs, you felt your upper body melt back into the sofa. You were excited for the next activity, but something about the gentle touch was soothingly sweet. “What have you done to me?” He mumbled, but you could feel him smiling against your skin. You reached down, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“What do you mean?” You asked, tone breathy from the closeness of his mouth to your heat.

“You’ve got me on my knees for you.” He let out a small chuckle, fingers grazing over your hips as he continued to litter marks over your thighs. “You didn’t even have to try.” You swallowed hard at the statement, realizing how quick and willing he was to abide to the change. You were both aware he was still in control, but it seemed as if he’d give you whatever you wanted with the snap of your fingers, now.

“I like it,” you smiled, the knowledge of his soft spot for you swelling your ego slightly. You knew he liked it too, even if he’d never admit it.

“I’d stay here all day if I could.” He confessed.

“Yeah?” You pressed.

“Mhm,” he hummed. “Waited all day, couldn’t stop thinking about how fucking good you taste.” With that, he brought his mouth to your cunt, not willing to wait for any type of response. You let a gasp out, an involuntary response to the feeling of his tongue on you again. His hands were talented beyond measure, but his mouth held power like no other; you were certain that if heaven was real, whatever was waiting for you beyond this lifetime was barely comparable to the euphoria Jake bestowed upon you. He ran his tongue through you, finally getting a taste of what he’d been doing to you. He let out a hum of appreciation, the small sound instantly sending a wave of pleasure through you.

You let your eyes flutter closed, enjoying the sensation as much as possible. When he’d gone down on you the first time, you believed there could be no greater pleasure. Now, you knew you were wrong. Your sobriety allowed you to fully immerse yourself in the moment, and it was better than anything you thought you felt the night prior. He started slow, taking his time really appreciate you. As much as he was pleasuring you, he was enjoying himself, too. Once he satisfied his need to tease you, he pulled back for a moment. “All of this for me, beautiful?” He asked, a small sigh sounding from him. You looked down, eyes casting over his face and soaking up his expression. He looked as if he’d just been gifted the opportunity of a lifetime to have you like this.

“All for you, baby.” You agreed, breathless just at the sight of him. His eyes fluttered closed at the sound of such a beautiful statement. He seemed as though he wanted to speak again, but couldn’t resist the temptation of what was in front of him. He pulled you down a little more, leaning forward to meet the motion. His tongue found your clit with an expert precision, like it was second nature to him. The warmth of his mouth mixed with the feeling of his fingers searing into your skin was overwhelming. You’d never admit it to him, but he already had you on the brink of an orgasm.

Without moving his mouth from you, he freed one of his arms from under your leg and guided it further to the side. The change in position couldn’t even take your mind off of the spell he was casting on you with his tongue. As if he thought he wasn’t already doing enough, he slipped his middle and ring finger inside you, gently curling his fingers upward as he did so. A guttural moan sounded from your lips, completely impossible to hold back. Your fingers tightened against the roots of his hair, a silent show of appreciation for his effort. The sound only seemed to drive him further as he placed his lips around your clit. As his fingers pumped into you, keeping the same momentum, he ever so slightly suctioned his cheeks.

With the curl of his fingers and the growing pressure on your clit, you were having a hard time keeping yourself quiet. Every movement seemed to coax another sound from you, in which he used for more motivation. He knew exactly how he was making you feel, and he was determined to continue doing so. He was encouraging you with his actions, and if he could, he’d be giving you all the praise in the world. To him, there was no better sound than the ones you were making for him. The knot forming in your belly was growing tighter by the second, both of you certain that your climax would come soon. In his true generous nature, he couldn’t find it within himself to deprive you of the feeling.

Within a few seconds of steady stimulation from both his hand and his mouth, you were coming undone below him. Profanities were slurred into the air, your grip on him tightened, and all of your muscles grew tense. Your chest heaved with shaky breaths you so badly wanted to take, but were struggling to find. The orgasm was intense, one that topped any other that came before. It was long, drawn out even further by his unwillingness to slow down. By the time the peak had passed, you had no time to recover before being thrown into another, more intense phase. He’d let up on the pressure on your clit, but his tongue had returned at a steady rhythm. His fingers were still pumping into you, hitting the sweet spot that he had found and refused to give up.

The normal post-orgasm overstimulation was quite unlike this one; it was unpleasant, mostly, and would usually cause a person to shy away from touch. The feeling that came over you while he continued was new, intense and searing through every nerve in your body, but not uncomfortable. The gentle nature of his movements were pleasurable in a whole new sense. He barely had to work for another climax. You thought that maybe it had to do with how badly your body had been craving him, how desperate you had been for his touch. It was the logical answer, but the more pressing idea was hard to overlook. The one that told you Jake was just that good. That whatever entity controlled him, or whatever entity he was, could make the most painful situations seem pleasant.

His ability to pleasure you without knowing anything about your body was unfathomable, like he’d been born solely for the purpose. Every touch was exhilarating, ever glance or expression was laced with deeper meaning, and every word was coated with a type of emotion you couldn’t fake. As much as you wanted to believe that he was possessed by the devil, you had to find a more logical explanation, but one that came to mind was much less of a comfort than the initial belief. As he guided you into another orgasm with the grace of an angel, your heart ached at the newest revelation your mind had presented.

Jake knew you so well, could pinpoint every lie and pick up on any hidden emotion, knew exactly how to please you, and knew exactly how to draw you in for one simple reason; he’d been watching you, the same way you had been watching Sam. He studied every minor detail that nobody else cared to look for, and instead of you noticing his distant admiration, you were caught up in loving his brother, who in turn was doing the same to you. The twisted nature of the situation had not begun the night before because of too much vodka and a game of beer pong. The situation had been begging to be resolved for a long time, the universe imploring someone to make a move, just to end the tireless circle of suffering. Jake was in love with you, and you were in love with Sam, and nobody picked up on the sorrow until you had all had enough.

You tried to convince yourself that it wasn’t true, that you hadn’t hurt Jake the same way his brother had been hurting you, but it was impossible to convince yourself otherwise. He even said it himself, before you found yourself in a mess of tangled limbs and unspoken truths. He liked you, and it hadn’t begun when you partnered up for a friendly match of pong. It had been blooming for a long time. The lesson you’d been dreading with Sam had manifested itself into one big lecture, now coming from every angle. And, as everyone knows, the karmic tendencies of the universe had never been forgiving. Instead of learning about what the world intended for you to know, you ignored it until it was too late. Your karma was exactly where you were in that moment; still in love with Sam, but undoubtedly falling for Jake, too. Whether that be in lust or love, you didn’t know. Instead of making the easy choice and facing up to the facts when they first arose, you now had a long road of difficult decisions ahead, and you didn’t want to let go of either feeling.

Before you could dwell any deeper about your profound regrets and emotions, a jolt of pleasure ran through you, stronger than the ones previous. Through the overstimulation, Jake had pried yet another orgasm from you at the most malicious time possible.

“F-fuck!” You expelled, head falling back deeper into the cushion. You were clenching around his hand, the burning in your stomach unwilling to settle. Your legs were shaking, hand keeping an iron grip on his hair while you cried out his name. He tapered his speed, slowing down so you could catch your breath for a moment.

“That’s it, angel.” His voice vibrated through you, making every bit of pleasure just a little more intense. “Such a good girl. Doing so good for me.” The words, the orgasm, the caring aura he was radiating were all more than enough to make a person fall in love, but emotions were the last thing you wanted to think about. After only a day, you were exhausted over stressing about the future and refusing to enjoy the present moment. So, without any fear of what was to come next, you leaned forward, pulling his head towards you at the same time, and brought him into a kiss. It was needy, sloppy, and not really well executed, but you didn’t care. You wanted access to every inch of him, finally submitting to the part of you begging to be consumed by him.

The devil doesn’t bargain; merely coerces you to see things his way, and he wanted you to believe that the worst decisions felt the best.

Jake broke the kiss, quickly moving to the spot beside you on the couch. You didn’t have time to process the change before he was scooping his arm under you and pulling you on top of him. You let your legs settle on either side of him, content with the new position. He guided your face back down to his, already yearning for another kiss. As your mouths were connected, he used one of his hands to lightly tap your ass, imploring you to sit up a little more. You obliged, feeling him reach under you to line himself up with your entrance. Instead of pulling you down onto him, he pulled back from the kiss.

“You okay?” He checked in, a bit breathless.

“Yeah,” you nodded, no promise ever holding as much truth as that one. He waited a moment, just to give you enough time to change your mind if you wanted to. When he was met with a staggering silence and a hopeful gleam in your eye, he used his hands to guide your hips down on his cock.

When he bottomed out inside you, you both let out a mutual sigh of relief. The feeling was long overdue, and you were growing impatient with the lack of movement almost instantly. He took one of his hands and cupped your cheek, his fingers tangling in the hair that was hanging over your face. He let his thumb dance over the soft skin, silently begging you to look at him. Your eyes drifted towards his face, but you almost wished they hadn’t. The expression he adorned was far more alluring than anything you had ever seen. It was so beautiful that you wished you could live in that moment for the rest of your life. It was excruciating.

Captivated in his face, you slowly began to rock your hips, giving both of you the pleasure you had been craving. The hand that remained on your hip tightened, fingers digging into your skin in the most delicious way. He moved his other hand to the back of your neck, pulling you towards him. You rested your forehead on his, basking in the intimacy. Although the softness was unexpected, you were thoroughly enjoying being so close to him. You steadied yourself with a palm on his shoulder, your other hand clasped around his arm that was holding you to him. “Does that feel good, angel?” He asked, voice low and full of lust. “This is what you wanted?”

“God, yes.” You groaned, the feeling of him inside you amplified even further by the sound of his voice. With every roll of your hips, he used extra force to bring you down onto him, just for an added effect of pleasure. The tip of his cock was hitting your cervix as you moved, making up for the slow pace by intensifying the sensation.

“I could fuck you all day,” he muttered, tightening his grip on you a bit more. “All of those pretty noises, those pretty faces… you’re driving me crazy, y/n.” He confessed, taking a sharp intake of breath as you sunk down on him again. “Feel so fucking good.” His hand snaked down to your back, pulling your body closer to him. You straightened yourself up, bracing your hand on the back of the couch for better support.

Your chest was now eye level with him, and in his true nature, he couldn’t pass up an opportunity. He ghosted a few kisses over your collarbones, gently sucking marks into the delicate skin, and even leaving a gentle bite when the moment permitted. He worked his way down to your breasts, pulling a hardened nipple into his mouth. The new sensation was overwhelming, making your eyelids flutter closed and your head to fall back in bliss. Being loved by Jake in any way was blissful, and how you were feeling was reflective of the thoughts that had already been swarming your head. Before you could succumb to any more ponderings, he gently bit down on the nipple he had been focusing on, causing you to let out a sharp gasp of shock. You could feel him smiling against you as you did so, forcing an eye-roll from you. He was still an asshole, but it was oddly charming. You couldn’t find it within yourself to be annoyed with him.

Instead, you upped your antics, rolling your hips faster and coming down on him harder. The new pace made it impossible to hold back any noises, the room filled with slurs of moans and the sound of skin on skin. You could tell he was enjoying it, too. The low groans that were muted by his mouth on you only drove you to work harder. Knowing you were pleasing him was orgasm-inducing. His fingertips were searing into your skin, his hold equivalent to that of someone who was taking life-saving measures. You were both worked up, your bodies begging you to succumb to the orgasms you so desperately wanted. Neither of you were willing to end such a fantastic moment so soon, one that had been bound to happen for a length of time. You wanted it to last forever, even if it was impossible. The thought of living in the cloud of bliss he was consuming you with was a comfort, almost as if nothing could ever go wrong as long as he never left.

“Baby,” he breathed, making an attempt to slow your hips but failing miserably. As much as he wanted to hold back, he was too far gone to slow down. “Gotta slow down, m’gonna cum.” He warned. The burning in the pit of your stomach reached a new level, his words only driving you to go faster. You knew it wouldn’t be long before you came undone, too. When you showed no sign of stopping, his head fell back into the couch cushion in a show of defeat. “Y/n.” He let out another warning, but it was too late. With a few more seconds of continuous movement, you had reached your peak. Your fingers grasped at him, holding yourself up as you cried his name. Your climax seemed to break the willpower he possessed. He brought both hands to your hips, muttering a few curses as he came, too.

“Fuck, Jake.” You moaned, trying to ride the high for as long as you could. As your hips came to a stop, you expected a whirlwind of comfort, for him to hold you close and enjoy the bare intimacy of the post-orgasm low. Instead, it was as if a new man were below you. In one swift motion, he shifted and roughly laid you down on the couch without ever withdrawing. As if it were instinct, you wrapped your legs around him, an invitation for whatever he was doing. When you caught sight of his eyes, you realized the soft Jake you’d seen previously had dissipated. The persona was replaced by a feral look, sex-crazed and angry with his loss of control.

“You don’t know how to fucking listen?” He growled, looking over your face for a hint of discomfort. Your features held shock, but no doubt that you wanted to continue. He used a free hand to arrange a throw pillow by your head, ensuring your comfortability despite his annoyance. “I told you, sweetheart, you don’t get to call the shots.” He reminded.

“M’sorry, sir.” You squeaked, slightly embarrassed that you’d pissed him off so badly, but when you looked deep enough into his eyes, you could tell his facade was just as such: an act. He wasn’t willing to walk away from you so soon, orgasm or not. You hadn’t really derailed any plans, because he’d already been certain he’d fuck you for as long as he possibly could.

“Are you?” He pried, supporting his weight on the cushion below you. The new position was delightful; he had never looked more ethereal than when he was on top of you. “Or are you just saying it because you want me to let you cum again?”

“I mean it.” You promised, completely entranced by his beauty. He was having a hard time keeping the tough exterior up, watching you look at him with so much admiration. Behind the act, he was looking at you just the same.

“Prove it, then. Be a good girl for me, okay?” He said. “Can you do that, angel?” You gave a nod, but realized your mistake before he could chastise you for it.

“Yes, I can, sir.” You promised.

“I know you can, baby.” He hummed. “You know your colours?” You watched him for a moment, waiting for him to speak again. “Green means you’re okay, yellow means slow down, red means stop.”

“Okay.” You agreed.

“If you can’t talk, tap me twice.” He said. Your eyebrows furrowed, questions blooming in your mind more by the second. Before you had a chance to ask any, he withdrew and slammed his hips back into you with a force that made your head spin. You let an involuntary yelp out, shocked at his suddenness, but he paid no mind to it. He was already focused on keeping his strength and his pace the same, not worried about anything else unless you were to tell him to stop.

A guttural groan sounded from you, the new angle he was hitting sending waves of pleasure through every nerve in your body. You were certain that there was nobody in the world who could make you feel that good, because you’d never experienced anything like it before. The noises you were making were filthy, absolutely sinful, and he was loving every second of it. Once you had grown used to his thrusts, he used his free hand to reach down between your bodies and find your clit again. He did so with ease, barely even struggling to keep his hand in place as he moved his hips. The added stimulation was enough to push you close to the edge again, and he barely had to work for it. Then again, he barely had to work for any of the orgasms so far. You thought, if there was such a thing as an expert at sex, he would take the crown.

You were already sensitive from the previous climaxes, making his job that much easier. He couldn’t help but let a cocky smirk grace his face, knowing he already had you where he wanted you to be. Your eyes were closed, the pleasure too much to keep them open and focused on anything. Your stomach was burning, head spinning, and lungs aching from the inability to catch your breath. “Not yet, baby.” He warned, knowing you were teetering on the edge.

“I-I can’t,” you stuttered, hoping he wouldn’t make you hold it back.

“You can.” He snapped, not letting up on either of his movements.

“Jake,” you whined, not wanting to disobey the order but knowing you might not be able to control it.

“Shut up.” He hissed, applying a bit more pressure to your clit with his thumb. You clenched your teeth, a violent growl sounding from your chest at your frustration. He couldn’t expect to keep up his pace and not let you cum; the two did not coincide with each other. His request was unreasonable, but you tried your best to comply. You bit down on the inside of your lip, a desperate attempt to distract yourself from the orgasm that was so desperate to be had. It worked for a moment, the pain taking away your focus from his antics. Next was breathing, you focused your breaths to be steady, internally coaxing yourself through the process.

After a few agonizing moments, you were a mess. All of the coping techniques were useless, and you were seconds away from cumming. “Jake, I can’t.” You said again, more serious this time. He knew you weren’t joking; the redness of your cheeks and the glisten of sweat on your forehead was a dead giveaway. When he didn’t respond, you gave up hope that you could push through.

“Cum for me, baby.” He demanded. The four words were the most beautiful ones you’d ever heard. In a mess of moans that resembled more like screams, you came undone once more. Your legs locked around him tighter than before, limiting his movements as you submitted to the pleasure. As you came down, he slowly removed his thumb from you, but didn’t slow his hips. The loss of contact made it easier to deal with the overstimulation from the sensitivity. “Does that feel better?” He crooned, but his tone did not match his movement. His soft voice was an oxymoron to the power behind his hips.

“Mhm,” you managed to give him a sound of agreement, but your brain was only focused on the feeling of him inside you. It felt fantastic, but was beginning to border on pain as continued at the relentless speed. Even so, it was a phenomenal experience, and you never wanted him to stop.

“Such a pretty little whore,” he managed out amidst a moan of his own, clearly getting himself off to the state you were in. Another groan tore through you, the only way you could express your delight at his filthy nickname. Words were unable to form in your brain, any complex thought completely disappeared and was only replaced with his name. His existence was suffocating, but you loved it. It was so wonderful that you almost felt the need to thank him, even if it was slowly killing you. “Give me one more, baby. You can do it.” He attempted to sound demanding, but he was pleading with you. You were surprised he had the stamina to continue so steadily, but you knew he was getting close to another orgasm, too.

“I don’t know,” you cried, genuinely believing you had no more to give him. He took the hand that had been anchored beside you, and slowly trailed his fingers up your body. He focused on your nipple for a moment, gently pinching it and rolling it between his fingers. The feeling caused your or arch your back off the couch, allowing him deeper access to you if it was even possible. He moved on from your breast, but not after palming it and gently squeezing it in his hand. He had been so focused on pleasing you that you couldn’t even chastise him for it; the simple joy he got from the action allowed you to look past the boyish nature.

“You can, sweet girl.” He encouraged. The change from the term sweetheart was new, but very charming. The adoration laced within the words was enough to ignite the fire in you again. His hand drifted upwards still, landing gently on your neck. The touch was welcomed, but he was cautious about your comfort. “Colour.”

“Green.” You assured him.

“Remember what I said?”

“Tap twice.” He gave a nod, happy with your answer. With that, his fingers began to close on your neck, slowly but surely cutting off the blood supply to your head.

“Come on, angel.” He gave the small statement of motivation, hoping it would help you get there. Part of it was because he was desperate to see you cum again, finding it more addictive than any substance. The other part was because he was close, and he refused to give in until he was certain he’d done everything he could to please you. Your head was spinning, not dangerously enough to cause concern, but enough to heighten the insatiable fire coursing through your veins. “I need it, baby. Just one more.” He begged, throwing the dominant tone out the window.

Your heart was pounding against your chest, vision slightly blurry and mind foggy. The only thing keeping you in the realm of reality was his dulcet voice and beautiful words. His face, although shining with sweat and hair sticking to the skin, was one of the most enchanting things you had ever seen. Even if you could, you wouldn’t be able to deny him of the wish. Even as fucked out as you were, there was this small part of your brain that was screaming at you to give him whatever he wanted. It was the devil, maybe, or it was just your heart giving in to the generosity he’d shown you in the last few hours. Whatever it was, you were determined to please him, and it wasn’t hard to do.

He tightened his hold a little more, the small action enough to send you spiralling over the edge again. You let in a choked breath, trying to fill your burning lungs with a hint of air as your legs shook and your eyes squeezed shut. “That’s it,” he groaned. “That’s my girl.” He held his grip until he reached his peak, too, and you both rode the high together. He gradually let go of the pressure he was holding on with, allowing the blood flow to resume and bring you back to earth. Once you had relaxed against him, your mind was able to produce thought again. Your chest slowed, finally suffice with the amount of air in your lungs. You opened your eyes, immediately met with the sight of his smiling face.

You couldn’t help but give one back, finding his joy incredibly infectious. He leaned down, placing a kiss on your lips. You reached up, pulling him closer to you. He slowly let himself down, resting on top of you. You were a mess of sweaty bodies and tangled limbs, but completely content with the position and comforted by the intimacy. He was still resting inside of you, not caring about the mess you’d both made. He just wanted to be close to you, and you did, too. He broke the kiss, instead letting his lips trail over any available body part. You quickly realized that out of every version of Jake you knew, aftercare Jake was your favourite. Every movement was laced with care and love, making sure that every crude action or word was known to be an act. Your body was exhausted, your mind was, too, but you were more than willing to stay awake all night just to be able to continue experiencing the affection.

“Glad I stayed?” He asked, smiling against the skin of your collarbone. You rolled your eyes, but let out a small laugh.

“I think you just need me to want you.” You joked, but he didn’t laugh.

“Yeah, I do.” He agreed, looking up at you through strands of messy hair. “Of course I do.” Your stomach sank, rattled by the blunt honesty. “It’s the best feeling in the whole world.”

No devils advocate for the sinful desire could overpower the guilty conscience that took over. Jake felt the same for you as you did for his brother, and it was gut wrenching to realize that no matter what destination the road was leading to, it would still be painful for someone. As certain as you were for your love for Sam, you couldn’t deny the fact that you were falling for Jake, fast and incomprehensibly hard. In attempt to ward the thoughts away, you pulled him into your chest again. You wrapped him in a hug filled with emotion, an apology hidden deep within the action. You held him there for long enough that it made the revelations disappear.

Wake up in the morning,

see your sunrise loves to go down

[cpunkwitch]

I ask that you hear me out bc I've been thinking a lot on this and I think it is a CRUCIAL aspect of understanding community. I'm queer trans mentally and physically disabled, and especially coming from over a decade in the queer community, the angry bitter gatekeeping rhetoric is not helpful to? Anyone??? Definitely not the crip movement or any real disabled person. It absolutely isn't what I was hoping for from seeking community, or what people seeking community need. Im in a lot of disability spaces, and never ONCE have I met a disabled person w mental illness who wasn't ALSO physically disabled as a result of that severe mental illness.

Anxiety keeps your body locked in fight or flight and floods you with "here's danger" hormones (adrenaline, cortisol) that lock muscles, stops the digestive system, causes shakes and blurred vision and panic attacks that mimic heart attacks. It leads to chronic pain, gastroporesis, heart problems. Depression saps all your energy, leaves you with barely enough to walk across a room. Changes the literal way you are able to perceive and process the world around you, changes your hormone and neurotransmitter balance. If it doesn't leave you dead (is suicide not a bodily symptom enough for you?) it leaves you drowning and typically in a place of having lost friends and finances. Executive dysfunction can keep someone locked in place for days, barely able to get water or food or clean themselves for weeks on end. Nevermind if these things go untreated, nevermind the rate of comorbidities with health problems and other mental illness.

There is no such thing as a purely mental disability, that doesnt work via a complex body mind relationship of hormones and muscles. The brain absolutely and completely affects the rest of our bodies, and it not working "correctly" is arguably far more catastrophic than MANY many purely physical disabilities (that can - if one is privileged and genetically lucky enough - come WITHOUT severe mental illness). Circling the wagons to make sure those who Aren't Disabled Enough stay away from a term, stay away from your space, is the same rhetoric used to try to keep trans, ace, nb, any minority not Queer or Marginalized Enough in the Right Ways out of queer spaces and this nebulous idea of limited resources they're stealing. It doesn't protect ANYONE, it sets up a false dichotomy that leaves people questioning themselves and more alienated than ever, and it just gives people something to work themselves into a froth over and waste words and energy and time and people's attention on instead of the real issues facing all of us and the most marginalized in this community.

It does not matter in the real world if a suicidally depressed person calls themselves a crip bc they used to be able to climb mountains and now it's a win to get to the kitchen - if they use resources it shows to that administrator the resources are Needed so they can continue, if they talk over someone they can be asked to instead listen and learn.

Yknow what does have negative real world consequences? Shaming them that they're not Disabled Enough to be part of a community and them killing themselves bc for the 100th time in their life a person told them their struggles weren't legitimate or real enough to count. Ignoring and helping obscure laws being passed taking away trans healthcare, and specifically trans autistic healthcare, that are immediately affecting this community. Riling yourself (and your audience) up indefinitely every time you feel the need to gatekeep some autistic kid and read or share a vitriolic post about what disability and crip REALLY is.

i want people to understand im not trying to exclude anyone. i have mentioned a few times that i aknowledge there are people who's mental disablity and illness contribute to their being physically disabled.

im sorry that my initial post angered a few people, that was not my intent

but i did state in my reblog of that post that the point wasnt to say anyone isnt disabled enough, its to point out that those who actually arent physically disabled need to stop forcing themselves into a space that wasnt made for them.

im sorry if my wording is just that bad, im sorry if i hurt people with how i came off, i dont mean to

and im sorry that i dont have the energy of spoons to read your entire ask here, its a lot of text and i cant read that but im responding from what i did manage to read and im sorry if any of my rants struck the wrong cord with you /g

im too tired for this so im not answering anymore asks about this post

thank you for your time, again sorry for upsetting anyone with my crap wording /g

[creationfathers]

psycho latest..

"@ Misha Collins if you're going to keep ghosting me like this then I won't even try anymore . You treat me like a doormat and I just let you ghost me all these years and walk all over me. I deserve better than this crap misha. Celebrity or not . You call yourself " spiritual " but you're egotistical and feed off attention from your fans. Do you even care about me? Am I even important to you at all? Was the last two years just some kind of joke to you? Posting Taylor Swift content just to bait me.... Typical divine masculine behavior! IM DONE BEING YOU TWIN FLAME!"

"@ misha the INVISIBLE string. The golden cord that binds us. DROPPING THE WHOLE BAKERY NOT JUST BREAD-CRUMBS. Is this KARMA? What am I just around to keep you relevant? Do you actually care about me or do you just like the attention that my “crazy twinflame love” gets you? Sitting under a WILLOW tree not-reading any poetry. When I leave you always bait me. Is it me? AM I THE PROBLEM? Or IS IT OVER YET? and you know how to poke my damn buttons. But maybe… I’m still just a little ENCHANTED, thinking about November… but you leave me with all this KARMA AND ILLICIT AFFAIRS…… but baby…. YOUR LOOSING ME… I can no longer hang on….but even when it’s over… I’ll always call you my LOVER."

"@ misha your forever my... Lover. YOU CAN GROW THAT BEARD TO THE ground. And I would still LOVE YOU."

(after some misha fans told her to stop and seek psychiatric help)

"@ misha these people who “adore you” don’t like the other half of your soul…. Hey SPN haters. You take everything I say and turn me into a monster? Just so you know. I will not tolerate hate on a platform that is meant for my self-expression. You know NOTHING and I mean absolutely NOTHING about my life. I have 3 children that are my entire world, and although i never met misha’s children i would consider them as my own if we ever were to be in a place of a real relationship. (But we’re not and never will be) this account is just for self- expression. This is why I stopped writing so much poetry because I am tired of the rumors, speculation, and “gossip”. Xoxo. Have a wonderful day. And be nice from now on or I will not hesitate to block you from a POETRY ACCOUNT made for POETRY and occasionally talking to @ misha"

"Sometimes I wonder how much we mirror eachother. Do you ever miss me and your tired eyes find my poetry? Do I have to tell yourself “don’t look” because you know I’m only talking to you… do you have to burden of wondering “is he talking to me” life must be so easy knowing how much you are loved… knowing you are accepted with every flaw illuminating your beauty."

"November was 4 months ago… yet I’ve aged like it’s been 40 years. Guess twinflame seperation phase has deemed not-so-great side effects."

(posts a pic of herself dressed like an insane person at the Hawaii convention she was kicked out of) "@ misha this was the last day I saw you. I miss you terribly… we only live once. I want to see you again. But you’re going to have to find a way to prove me that this is real for you… I’m Inlove with you. And I know it’s not the kind of love that will ever fade. I said I am committed to you… which I meant. There’s nobody else I want to spend my life with…. I’ll give you time to show me a decent response. Not through poetry. Or something small. In the FLESH misha. I’m loosing hope in “destiny”…"

"@ misha I love you… am I the one you love? Cmon. Take a risk. Say what you feel in person. I’m home… and I’ll wait for you, but I can’t hold hope forever… and I’m loosing it."

and she's changed her Instagram bio to read "IF THIS IS REAL. Extra bedroom in my 🏠 … take the ✈️ 🌴… come see me…. Before it’s too late…before a “what if”"

This person really thinks Misha Collins, a celebrity who doesn't know her, is going to get on a plane to Hawaii, come to her (parents) house and sleep in her spare bedroom so they can have sex and connect spiritually. She thinks he will fly thousands of miles, confess his love for her and admit that he has secretly been pretending to be a woman on the internet for the past four years and sending her coded love messages via an Instagram account.

She genuinely believes that is going to happen.

And she doesn't believe she is mentally ill. 🙄

(PS - isn't it weird how she completely ignores anything that doesn't fit her delusional narrative? like this latest delulu shitstorm was triggered by Misha posting some jokey nonsense about Taylor Swift and she's convinced that's him communicating with her because she has mentioned Taylor Swift before. But all the Ukraine stuff Misha has also posted? Total silence on that from her. No comment at all. Because it doesn't fit her narrative. So it's irrelevant. She doesn't care at all about that stuff. Even though Misha has spent significantly more time and energy on Ukraine than on.. Taylor Swift. He WENT to Ukraine, met Zelensky, hid in a bunker from Russian shelling, met soldiers, made videos, has raised nearly $300,000 for de-mining efforts, he's posted about it literally dozens of times in the past two years. But to her that's nothing. If she's "the other half of his soul" why doesn't she care about the things he cares about??)

She's so stupid

[dankusner]

That Mortal Coil show is still up at CentralTrak, but in the hallway behind the main exhibition space there is a rehanging of Daniel Kunser’s214Trans4m photo series, part of which was originally hung at the Magnolia Theatre’s gallery in 2011. The images show a transsexual protagonist flaunting across various JFK landmarks – the IM Pei memorial, the back staircase of Lee Harvey Oswald’s old house – as well as other spots around town, such as outside the Forest Theater on Martin Luther King Jr. Blvd. The images are satirical, and at first there is something amusingly snarky about them.  But try to dig deeper, and the apparent critique proves muddy and unrefined. What’s missing from the images is any real confrontation or transgression – of danger, aggression, violence, fear, or risk. Instead we get a simple juxtaposition that calls attention to shifting social mores while seeking to provoke a shock that, nearly 40 years after Pink Flamingos (and ten feet away from That Mortal Coil), provokes less than awe.

rom: "Mr. Daniel Kusner" Subject: Thank you Date: June 14, 2013 at 10:55:28 AM CDT To: Peter.Simek@dmagazine.com

Howdy, Peter.

Thanks for the thoughtful June 6 review of "214 Trans4m." I appreciate your critical analysis.

A Look Back at Dallas Art 2014: The Top Ten It’s the end of December, the time of the year when cultural commentators are compelled to reorganize the year that was into neat, clickable lists and rankings. As I tried to do this, however, I discovered I couldn’t.

D Magazine December 23, 2014 6:00 am

It’s the end of December, the time of the year when cultural commentators are compelled to reorganize the year that was into neat, clickable lists and rankings. That’s what I originally set out to do with this post, go back over the art I have seen in Dallas museums and galleries over the past 12 months and pick out the ones I liked the most. As I tried to do this, however, I discovered I couldn’t. It’s not that there weren’t some good exhibitions, some surprising ones too. But as I think back over the year, the dominant memory isn’t art. It’s dread.

I dreaded thinking about dragging myself out to the galleries. Dreaded bumping into artists in warehouses and having the same conversations. Dreaded thinking about encountering some trendy paintings or sculptures paired with cowboy boots at the Power Station, or some over-hyped schlock at the Contemporary. Dreaded the obligation of putting words to the art I saw, to react, to actually attempt to feel affected by any of it. For much of 2014, I dreaded art. I couldn’t see it anymore. I couldn’t react to it. I had fallen out of love with it. I found it all flat, dull, pointless, and utterly uninteresting. Like the artist Paul Slocum said when recently in an interview on Glasstire, I felt like art was not where I wanted to be. I’d rather spend time with music or books.

This happens to me every once and while, and typically I’m able to wait it out. I lose interest in art, and then the interest surges back, usually with new ferocity. But this year it lingered. It sank in. The depths of art malaise hit rock bottom in July, and out of sheer desperation, I reached out to my friend Ed Schad, a critic and curator at the Broad Foundation in Los Angeles, for help. I asked him what to do when you just can’t see the art anymore. What do you do when the art doesn’t mean anything, when it all seems so pointless and superfluous, vacuous, idiotic, and trivial?

Not surprisingly, Ed admitted he often goes through similar periods of art withdrawal, brought on by a variety of causes. Sometimes it’s just hard to see the art when it is crowded out by the art world: the gossip, the politics, the market, etc. Sometimes it can feel like instead of looking at contemporary art, you are just looking at a little cog that plays a tiny roll in a larger market machine. Sometimes you get the impression that the machine doesn’t just drown out the art, it can actual shape artists in its own image.

“What’s worse is at these times, I really feel like artists do not want critical conversation or want anything to feel really vital and substantial,” Ed wrote. “Instead, they want praise, recognition in the most pat and cloying way. Instead of art being difficult and really getting into your life and messing it up, it all looks the same and there is very little to distinguish one from the next.”

Still, as someone whose livelihood is, at least to some extent, bound up with reacting to and writing about art, I was starting to feel desperate. How do you break out of it? How do you find your way back? Maybe time, maybe revisiting your favorite works. Ed told me he looks for “fellow doubters” and kindred spirits. He recommended one book in particular called Summer in Baden-Baden by Leonid Tsypkin. The first weekend of August I found myself in Austin where I happened upon the thin volume in South Congress Books. I bought it.

Tsypkin’s book is novel, a novelistic biography, and a kind of literary criticism. It tells of the author’s journey via train to Dostoyevsky’s memorialized house in St. Petersburg at some point in the 1970s. As he travels, Tsypkin reads the memoirs of Dostoyevsky’s second wife, which recounts the couple’s own train journey to Baden-Baden the summer after the author finished Crime and Punishment (1866). What emerges in this weave of narratives is an homage that recasts the great Russian writer not as some saintly literary giant, but as a wretched and pitiful character straight out of Dostoyevsky. In the novel, Dostoevsky is a groveling, self-piteous, proud, slanderous, spiteful, and emotionally abusive man. He is self-contradictory. He squanders his few rubles on a gambling addiction, counting out his steps each day from the hotel room to the roulette table. He returns each night penniless, throwing himself at his wife’s feet and weeping as he begs for her forgiveness. And yet, each day he returns to the roulette table, allowing himself to be enchanted by the kinetic dance between chance and fortune. He is a slave to his addiction, but when he is absorbed in the whir of the wheel, the shuffling of coins, the rising and falling of his earnings, Dostoyevsky achieves a strange, almost spiritual transcendence.

Summer in Baden-Baden is a unique and difficult novel, and Tsypkin’s prose is as beautiful as it is complicated, like Joyce trying to retrace Dostoevsky’s footsteps in Thomas Bernhard’s loafers. But one of the things that most struck me about it is the twin portraits it presents of the figure of the artist. On the one hand, there is the literary giant reduced to penny-grubbing, groveling wretch, whose addictions and art are both rooted in the same manic, obsessive personality, which drives him simultaneously towards self-destruction and self-transcendence. Then there is Tsypkin himself, an author who wrote his masterwork in secret, hiding it from the Soviet authorities, without any hope that it would ever be published. The book was hidden away in a drawer, and it was only published by the author’s son posthumously.

This is the point in this top ten list in which you throw up your arms and shout, “What the hell does any of this have to do with Dallas art?” Bear with me.

A few weeks ago Christina Rees wrote an essay on Glasstire wondering if right now was the worst time ever to be an artist. Period. It was a piece that seemed flow from a sentiment I have felt over this past year. Like my own artistic disenchantment, the broader Dallas art scene seems to be in the midst of a wilderness moment. There is a feeling of malaise, a slagging sense of energy. Earlier this year I wrote about the how the Dallas art scene seems to be on the crest of one of its life cycles. In previous years we saw a kind of self-generated, self-propelling energy by this city’s artists, and a lot of that activity has died down. This year I’ve had artists tell me they’re tired, that they’re sick of shelling out their own money on pop-up exhibitions, that they’re tired of going to shows featuring the same artists over and over, that they’re tired of breaking their backs and their banks for projects that, frankly, don’t seem to go anywhere or do anything.

Speaking about the broader situation of contemporary art, Rees writes about how the way art is exhibited and seen today — a product of the the appetite of the market, surrounded by the trappings of the art world — has provided for a system that is misshaping artists and the public’s expectations about what art is or can be. Closer to home, we often hear that the problem is the lack of resources for artists living in Dallas. Artists burn out here because there is no one supporting their work. You could point to the recent study released by Southern Methodist University’s Center for Arts Research that shows that Dallas falls far behind other cities in its support of artists and art organizations. You can argue that life cycles describe a contingent relationship between organic growth and the sustenance that feeds that growth. To extend the Dallas art scene’s life cycle, you need to feed it. Indeed, the biggest Dallas art news of the year, the announcement that Art Prize is expanding to Dallas, came with the promise of a feeding frenzy for artists. Perhaps, along with other programs that offer grants, or fund research, or raise new funds, or offer healthcare, or space, and all the other things that surround the artist at the act of creation, Dallas can break its self-defeating art cycles.

These arguments are right, but only to a point. Artists need more resources, and Dallas does a terrible job at providing the kinds of resources that make the life of an artist here possible. But resources can’t be mistaken as an end in themselves. For one, the resources that appear to make art possible can also make art impossible. Grants can be rewarded by committees that pander to political correctness or academic trends. MFA programs can train unimaginative mimics. Galleries can lapse into programing that only represents work that sells to interior designers. The market can divorce art from its meaning and rewrite its purpose as commodity value. Similarly, while Art Prize may get some money into the right hands, we have to wonder at what cost. What kind of dialogue around art will it really create? To what extent will it reinforce superficial notions about creative and artistry, about access and self-affirmation? Socially, will spectacle be internalized in the broader Dallas culture as a kind of artistic validation; politically, will the perception of the value of culture be reduced to a contingency of a vibrant tourism industry? Aren’t these all repetitions of the same systems of support that has created an art world that already feels like a machine that churns out an endless regurgitation of the same thing?

It was interesting to read Tsypkin’s novel against this backdrop, and watch the book insert itself into this question of artistic production and malaise. One of Summer in Baden-Baden’s achievements is the way it gathers the work of art and the lives of those who make art into a single tableau. We encounter two artists operating within the most restrictive and defeating of circumstances. Think of Dostoyevsky, broke and broken, or Tsypkin, hiding his pages away in the obscurity of his desk drawer. What did it take for them to pick up their pen, surrounded by financial, mental or political destitution, with little or no hope of money, or acclaim, or freedom, or relief from their own personal anguish, and attempt to make art? What is it in the soul of an artist that makes her capable of doing that? What makes her need to do that?

What the novel reveals is that the transcendent nature of art exists in direct relation to the forces which resist the creation of the art. If it is a bad time to be an artist, it is because it is always a bad time to be an artist. Resources and support for artists fluctuate, but what remains is the reality that being an artist is an affliction of the soul. This is not to reinforce the romantic image of the tortured, solitary artist working away in misery and genius, a myth that participates in projecting an overly sanctimonious vision of the role of the artist. It is simply to say that an artist can’t help but make, and limitations – external and internal – are both necessary to and an inhibition of creation. The artist is like a birthing mother, expectant father, and midwife all rolled into one. Art-making is born out of instinct, desire, expertise, nurturing and helplessness, even if sometimes, from the outside, this can all look as simple as hanging a urinal on a wall.

In Dallas, as everywhere, it is not easy to be an artist — today or at anytime. But it is worth keeping in mind that the particular challenges of the present day always appear impossible to contemporaries who must meet them in all of their newness. The problems associated with being an artist change, but the difficulty of being an artist is constant. The reality is most of the art we see isn’t art, just as most artists aren’t truly artists. Met with the real difficulty of making art, those who fancy themselves artists invent, as Slocum put it in the Glasstire interview, “gimmicks” and “tricks.” Sometimes, even real artists feel forced to play to the trickery, and sometimes it may look like artists are working gimmicks when, in fact, they are making art. One of the best moments of Summer in Baden-Baden is when Dostoyevsky, bitter over his own unrecognized and unrewarded genius, encounters the already successful Turgenev in the street and inwardly accuses the fellow author of doing just that, writing novels that are full of gimmicks and tricks.

When we encounter real art, though, what we encounter is the mark of that need in the artist which drove the work of art into existence. What we seek out in art, I believe, is evidence of this life-affirming need, the way the art’s existence originates out of nothing other than its own particular and undeniable nature. Art is born of its own need to exist, nattering away inside the artist, and it is received by the viewer who needs it in such a way she can receive it nakedly and on its own terms. This is why art can, as Ed put it in his email, “get into your life and mess it up.” Art exploits your need for it; it takes up residence in you, re-wires your heart and mind.

I got to a place this year where I couldn’t see art not merely because I wasn’t encountering much good art, but because I couldn’t figure out how to really need it again with that necessary blend of personal investment and naked vulnerability, how to let it fill up the empty spaces inside me like molten ore poured into a mold, allowing it burn me up from the inside out. By late fall, thanks to Ed and Tsypkin, I was beginning to need art again, and then I began to see it. I saw it in the beautiful soft cheeks of a broken hearted young woman, who turns her face away from the gaze of Degas; in the unbridled, desperate masculine anguish raging in Mark Grotjahn’s painting-sculptures; in the strange adolescent girl sitting in a chair with her dog in a painting hidden away on the top floor of the DMA, whose stiff back, the way her hands fall to her side, and the faraway look in her eyes tell everything of the conflict of social mores and personal desires that hold her in an unspoken, unquestioning inner limbo.

The art world may be rewarding gimmicks and tricks, Dallas may not be rewarding anyone at all, but this does not mean there will not be art. Some of it may be stacked in corners, hidden in drawers, half-finished in studios of people whose names we may know or not know. Some of it may have appeared on walls and was overlooked or passed over by impatient viewers. Some of it is hiding out in the most unexpected places, among the outsiders, the vernaculars, the naïve, the innocents. Some of it may be hiding in plain view. This is the best art of 2014, the art that was made despite of or in spite of —and maybe even to spite—the support systems, the grants, commissions, the markets, the parties, the politics, the pomp or the praise. If you got lucky, you saw some of that this year. I hope to see more of it next year.

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[howaboutleeches]

Ive never sent an ask before so im not sure if it will work but how about the Arcana main 6 with a seamstress Mc :)

How would the Main Six React to a seamstress MC!

Asra:

🔮 Asra could go hours and hours just watching you sewing, putting pieces together, and working on your machine. He found it mesmerizing how skilled you were, his eyes focused on every hand movement of yours.

🔮 The sound of your machine calmed him down, and he could fall asleep on a couch next to your working space, the one he had prepared specially for you and your craft. Enough lightening to make your job easier, any materials you may need and a comfortable chair to keep you comfortable.

🔮 Once you started working, Faust paid attention to you as well. She would slither up your desk or your back and watch closely, her big eyes shining as she watched you working. "Friend, work hard!"

🔮 Asra didn't want to ask for it, but if you made something for him, he would keep it around him all the time. Wearing, wrapping around his neck, around his waist, he wouldn't let it go.

🔮 Even better if you made something for Faust as well. Maybe something matching for the three of you? It would definitely put a smile on his face and make Faust's tail wiggle in excitement.

Nadia:

👑 No matter how she came to know about your skill, either you telling her or she figuring it out on her own, she became very excited about it. "I've always admired seamstresses! I tried sewing once but I just didn't have enough skill to seek it further", she would say as she grabbed your hands, caressing them as if trying to feel the power coming from them.

👑 Not even a week later, she grabbed you by the arm and led you across the halls of the palace, until she stopped in front of a room, a bright smile on her face. She opened the door to reveal a room filled with fabrics, sewing machines, mannequins, and many other items that made your heart skip a bit.

👑 That was her way of showing how much she appreciated your work. Contributing with her money to help you have the best environment (and products) to pursue your sewing career.

👑 She would ask you to make her outfits and brag to other royals and her own family about how good you were. It didn't take long for you to start receiving requests from other kingdoms and from her relatives as well.

👑 She just wants to see you happy, and knowing she helped you with it also fills up her sense of pride. Don't get me wrong, she didn't do it so she could brag about it, but she likes to know her help took part in your happiness.

Julian:

♠️ When he came to know about what you did, he was beyond thrilled. He started to bombard you with the most various questions regarding your profession, how long you have been doing that, who taught you, and what kind of things you could make.

♠️ Although he felt a little embarrassed to ask for it, he would gather enough courage to do some stuff for him, if you wanted to and had the time, of course. Custom eyepatches would be his top request.

♠️ Eventually, he also started asking for costume capes. He got so excited when you would walk into the room waving a brand new cape, almost like a child receiving a Christmas gift.

♠️ He would often bring you books about sewing, and beautiful fabrics he bought with a discount, calling it his "contribution". The thing is, he felt guilty for asking you to do eyepatches and capes for him, but he felt so good wearing something you made, he couldn't help it!

♠️ Whenever your machine would have any sort of issue, he would rush to your aid and try to fix the situation, even if you knew how to do it yourself. He just loved being useful and getting a kiss on the cheek as a reward for his good deeds.

Muriel:

🌿 He and Inanna were curious regarding your machine. When it started to make noises, Inanna growled a little at it, but seeing it was harmless, she decided to approach and sniff. Soon, she started to enjoy the noises.

🌿 Muriel on the other hand had a frown on his face, saying he didn't like it. He actually didn't have anything against the machine itself, but he started feeling jealous of it. You spent so much time working on it, he felt left out.

🌿 You ended up noticing that and decided to set up a corner next to your working table where he could rest close to you and the fireplace as well. After that, his complaints stropped.

🌿 He sometimes went out to gather some flowers he found in the forest, hoping you could use them when sewing. He always tried to get the brightest and best smelling ones, saying they would look good on you.

🌿 If you made something for Inanna, he would think about proposing to you on the spot. Inanna has been his companion for a long time, and if you cared about her enough to do something nice for her out of genuine kindness, he would know you're the right one.

Portia:

🐈 After finding out about you being a seamstress, she bothered Mazelinka for days so she could give her an old sewing machine she had in her house and other sewing materials that were buried deep into her house. Even if they were there for a long time, they were still very good quality.

🐈 She loved to watch you sewing, finding the sound of the machine extremely relaxing. She also pulled Pepi into her lap to watch you, which she did with wide eyes, following every movement of your hand with her gaze.

🐈 Portia one day asked if you could make something for Pepi, which you agreed to. As a surprise, you made matching sweaters for Pepi and Portia, which made her tear up in joy.

🐈She always bragged about your work to Nadia, saying you were, without a doubt, the best seamstress in the entire city of Vesuvia, the whole world even! She was extremely proud of you and wasn't afraid to show it to anyone.

Lucio:

🐐At first, he tried to convince you to pursue another career path. He said you were royalty now, and royalty didn't have to sew, they had other people to do that for them. It slightly annoyed him that you were doing something that someone else could take off your shoulders.

🐐As he watched you work though, his opinion started to slowly change. He saw the effort and love you put into it, and the beautiful pieces you created. He slowly started to fall in love with it.

🐐He secretly ordered a sewing machine for himself, thinking that it should be easy to sew. Then, he would show you his final work and you would awe and praise him. At least that was his plan, but after twenty minutes of trying to get the machine to work, he gave up.

🐐 He swallowed his pride, something he has only done three times in his life (he kept count of it), and went to you, asking you to teach him how to sew. The smile on his face when he made a scarf was priceless. He paraded it around the castle, making sure that everyone knew he had done it himself. And that you, his amazing and talented partner, had taught him how.

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

Well, I've been absent for a good while now, I'm not even sure no one reads my stuff anymore, but if someone still does, here ya go! I hope you enjoy this (◠‿◠✿)

I plan on being more active, maybe posting once a week.

tag list

@the-chaos-siblings @angelyuji @diamondlight301 @antipositiva @alliespec @euphorically-bisexual @v--o-i--d @llavender-tae @iarychachy @sonofahell @sluttiestestablishment @esdtvbjikmkkjbvvh @mycomancer @spinehoarder @blackrose8425 @prettyorangepineapple @anjhope1 @updatedautopsyrep0rt

If you want to be added to the tag list, go interact on my pinned post so I can know  😉 💖

[jemmo]

Just wanted to let you know your bad buddy tags always get me so emotional particularly your thoughts on Pran. He is my son and I'm sad his feelings are kinda misunderstood by people in the fandom because he focuses on more than Pat's feelings. Wanting to call his mom simply because he was worried she would be lonely and worried without him told me everything I needed to know about Pran because contrary to what a lot of others seem to have read from it, I just thought it showed his thoughtfulness and kindness? I imagine he must've been under a lot stress and feeling conflicted juggling not only his and Pat's happiness but also everyone else's. I think at the end of the day he just wants to keep the peace and keep everyone happy irregardless of his own wants and needs and I think that's both heartbreaking but also sweet. Or maybe I'm reading it wrong? I don't know.

maybe its kinda good that im lazy with replying to my anons bc reading this after ep 12 is quite interesting. i so agree with what you said anon. i havent exactly seen a lot of people misunderstanding pran but i definitely see how he could be misunderstood. and its not just in ep 11, its throughout the series, especially ep 6 onwards. even before then, you can see how pran's tendency to close off from pat, to put him at arms length and isolate himself from him affects pat. you see pat constantly constantly seeking pran's time and attention only to be shut out. pran cant consciously let himself be around pat. most of the scenes with them together pre-ep7 come about bc pat seeks pran out, and pran is only able to spend time with pat when he's not thinking, be it him getting swept up by pat's goofiness or arguing with him or doing something together, you see pran's brain switch off. he relaxes, goes with the flow, drops some of those boundaries as pat worms his way in before they rebuild themselves in full force and shove him out. and every encounter goes a little bit further, they get a little bit closer, a little bit more serious or honest, only for pran to catch himself and abort. and despite being in pran's pov, its not difficult to imagine how this hurts pat, especially in retrospect knowing what we know now about pat's loneliness and how he adversely responds to being called a jinx or a curse, how he hates carrying blame that he shouldn't have to but takes on anyway, the unconscious guilt bubbling underneath the surface and how that affects the way he is with pran.

(this is kinda off topic from the question but as i wrote that i realised i've never really considered the complexities of that before. how pat's guilt could make him feel so contentious about wanting to spend time with pran. bc he gravitates towards pran like nothing else, and yet doesn't realise his feelings for him until ep 5 when romance is directly brought up in his own life. so before that, was there an element of wanting to be around pran bc of his guilt?? bc he feels bad and therefore wants to repay him by doing these good things. we know what their real meaning are, but pat's guilt i similarly buried like his romantic feelings, and they unconciously affect his actions, so its not a stretch to say that his unaddressed guilt does too. but at the same time, he has to know that the reason he feels guilty, the reason why he hurt pran was bc he spent time with him. simply being around him put pran in trouble, so now, when he seeks out pran, i wonder does that make him feel uneasy. like how at odds must it make him feel knowing that he's caused pran trouble by being his friend, yet all he wants in the world is to be his friend. something he desires so fundamentally has been proven to be a bad thing, so how does he reconcile with that?? when he's been the one to make pran sad, how can he also go about wanting to be the person to make pran smile?? idk i just feel like there's real complexity to pat reconciling his guilt with wanting to be around pran, and for emotionally 'simple' pat, i feel like its a lot)

(also editing jess im putting a read more here purely so i dont clog ppls dashs with my messy rant but pls go on ahead)

but anyway back on topic, when pat recognises and vocalises his feelings in ep 5, the way pran's reflex to push pat away hurts pat is a lot more obvious, in that you come to realise that a level of hurt has been there all along but now, similarly to how he has identified his feelings, he's identified why that rejection hurts, and its brought to the surface for us to see. i said this before around when these eps were airing and i'll say it again, i love this about pran. i love that he has this flaw, that he selfishly disregards pat's feelings for his own safety, even tho it's not exactly a good safety, its more a fear of change and need to maintain peace and the status quo. and now in retrospect, i love even more how it reflects dissaya's handling of her situation with ming. bc just as she held onto her feelings of anger and need for revenge as a way to not address the hurt and betrayl, and subsequently passed that hurt onto other people, pran is doing exactly the same with pat. he's still struggling, but he's avoiding facing some difficult emotions, avoiding addressing the big elephant in the room so that he doesn't have to reconcile with it. and in the same way the hurt of dissaya is passed to pran, pran's hurt is passed to pat. he's made to feel uncomfortable and unhappy and just has to accept things are this way, go at pran's place, all so that pran doesn't have to face reality.

its honestly a great mirroring of mother and son, the difference being that pran is in this with pat. pran didn't stand up to his mother and make her face what she's doing, but pat does that with pran. he does so immediately and consistently and unforgivingly. he chases and pursues and tells him in no few words that he is struggling and he can't handle being in this emotional place pran has put him in. dissaya is allowed to live in her constructed safety but pran isn't, pat smashes down those walls and calls him out, won't let him stay in that unaffected, unfeeling bubble. and for him, its both out of selfishness for his own feelings but also bc he knows thats ultimately not a good place for pran to be. that remaining in perceived peace is only gonna be stagnant and dull and draining for pran. its only gonna limit him to the life he's already accepted. pat doesn't want that, he wants more, for both of them, so he seizes it.

again, that was a bit of a tangent, but getting finally to ep 11, i wanna take this chance to hone in on one of my favourite lines pran has ever said that i dont think i've really seen ppl talk about. its when he's talking to junior's mom and she says 'i even wanted to be a pirate. luckily my mom didn't allow it. otherwise i'd be throwing a net for a living'. and pran simply replies 'or you'd become a famous pirate'. i love this line more than i can say bc it says so much about pran as a person and his relationship with his mother. i remember using this phrase in a post before; pran is a dreamer forced to be a realist. you can see it in the things he's drawn to, music and design, he clearly has an artistic soul that must be very at odds with the person he’s been shaped to be, someone realistic thats constantly being made to face the facts of this world, and being told they’re unfair and unforgiving and hence he must work and fight and be successful to find his place, all things dissaya puts on him bc she went through something so unjust. and the thing is, i said something similar in some tags about pat yesterday that i’ll put here.

i see this for pran too, in that his mother has engrained a competitiveness and need for success into him that i think if she hadn’t, wouldn’t be absent from his personality. its just a part of him. and we can see that bc his eyes light up at any kind of challenge from pat even when it has no stakes, he just likes to compete, even more so now when its in such a happy and relaxed context. and we see it with him at uni. in ep 1, his mom isnt forcing him into anything, in fact they’re concerned he’s taking on too much responsibility with the class president role. but he does it anyway, much like he plays on the faculty rugby team, much like he takes on the bus stop project, much like he takes on a job for the play. i see people saying that many of these things were forced on him by wai and that kinda frames pran as someone that never had drive or a want to do stuff and succeed. people make out that his mom and wai expect him to be that person. but i dont see it that way. i see pran as someone who has a lot of drive, and has an innate desire for success in life, someone who wants to conquer and do stuff, live very involved and fully. i mean he goes abroad to work of his own volition for god sake, he has grand aims. and i love this about him bc it would’ve been so easy to have him be the shy boy with no friends. but he’s not. and he’s not dampened and depressed and weighed down by his unrequited crush either as would’ve been easy. he lives. even in high school he joins the band, and in uni he’s very involved with extra circular stuff. he’s clearly outgoing and personable. but there’s also been a very fine line he’s had to tread here, whereby he wants to be successful and good at things and so does his mom, but his mom also doesn’t want him to have high hopes or spend time investing in something that isnt a sure thing, like music (but also i think she takes that away from him bc its something that tethers him to pat), so he has to reconcile his desire for success while still quashing his dreams. he can want big things but only if they’re the right big things. he can dream big but not too big. 

idk again i feel like there’s a lot of complexity there. so when pran says ‘you could’ve been a famous pirate’, its saying a lot. its saying that your parents dont always know whats best, that there’s something limiting in never trying to reach for your dream bc you’ll never know if it was actually possible to accomplish, that its redundant to ask children to have dreams and aspirations when later down the road they’ll only be seen as stupid and childish. pran says he wants to be a musician, and i could’ve seen this being something he actively pursued more than architecture. and its not a lie that he enjoys what he studies too, its not that his job now is unfulfilling, its just that, given the chance, he could’ve tried, but his mother never let him. music became off limits and now he’ll never know if he could’ve ‘become a famous pirate’. but still, that doesn’t stop him from playing for himself, and for pat, and finding joy in it. his love for music never dulled. bc some kids have dreams that aren’t stupid even if you think they are. some kids have big aspirations not out of childish innocence to how difficult the world is, but bc of innate passion that outlives innocence, and stays a passion even when they know its hard. some things stick, and pran might not be a famous pirate, but he can still play pirates with pat and have fun as if they were kids all over again. 

(side note but this is one of my tiny gripes with the show. not a criticism bc i understand why its the way it is, but i would’ve loved to have known what pat would’ve been interested in, studied, done as a job if it wasn’t for his father. i feel like dissaya was a lot more relaxed in this sense, as in pran didnt need to take after her, she just wanted him to be successful and choose a path that was a sure thing, that was safe and reliable career wise, and as long as he succeeded in that it was ok. but ming clearly wants pat to follow in his footsteps. they play the same sport, study the same major, do the same job. its a path predetermined for him since birth. pran was both given more space interest wise but also i feel saw that his mother wasnt always right a lot earlier, and that enabled him to explore his passions. pat tho, he was set from an early age, and made to idolise his father such that he never entertained anything outside of what he was prescribed. he never thought about what he liked to do or what he was interested in bc it was all set for him. so i’d love to know what, given the freedom, he’d find his passion to be (possible s2 plotline anyone??))

im sorry so much of this is off question but im kinda rambling and going with the flow here, i just have a lot of thoughts. and in regards to that aside about pat and his own dreams, i think that plays in to how things go down in ep 11. bc the only way pat has defied his father is by being with pran, everything else is what his father wants. pran on the other hand wants to and has before defied his mother in multiple ways ie with music. and what i said about him having more freedom in regards to his life choices, he has a much larger world view than pat bc he’s been able to construct more of it himself. even without pat in it, pran still has other things he loves and cares about, namely family, career and passions. pat has not been allowed to find any of his own passions, isnt allowed to forge his own career and his connection to his family has just been broken. he has pa and his mom, and his friends, but they’re all so closely linked to his father and the life that hes set out for him that by severing the connection he had with his father, all those other things are too difficult to think about. so his world view is tiny, his world view is just pran. thats why he wants to run away for good, thats why he entertains that idea, bc in the height of his emotions he doesnt think he has anything he wants to go back to. hes completely happy with starting fresh and living a simple life here. pran isnt. pran’s relationship with his mother has not been completely broken, he still empathises with her as a victim. and he has all his own goals, goals that cant be realised by running away and living here with pat. 

and also ever the realist, he knows its not possible logistically. fairy tales aren’t realistic. they’d have to work their asses off and wouldnt have any of the comforts and amenities theyre used to in their middle class city lives. the days would be repetitive and mundane and the novelty of being able to be together would slowly wear off and they’d just feel stuck. pran would always be quashed and limited in this life. and its not selfish of him to want more, and its not weak of him to want to return, and it doesnt mean his love for pat is any less. he just sees the bigger picture where pat’s anger has given him absolute tunnel vision. and as you said, pran is more predisposed to be kind to his mother bc she was wronged. despite her poor handling of her pain, he still cares for her and empathises with her being hurt, and so wants to be caring, worries about her, wants to make sure she’s ok. pran has had a lot more time to sit with the knowledge that his parents arent always right so he isn’t charged with anger and a want to rebel. maybe he was once, but he’s had those feelings long enough for them to soften. what he is feeling for the first time is all the empathy for his mother’s hurt, thats whats fresh and new, so thats what he feels more strongly vs pat’s newly unleashed anger and disappointment. 

the only thing i’d slightly disagree with is pran keeping the peace irregardless of his own wants and needs. maybe he did in earlier episodes, but now i think knowing how they dealt with things in ep 12, it shows he’s more concerned with keeping a veneer and facade of peace while still getting what he wants. he’s found a middle ground where he can have it all in measured amounts instead of going all in on one thing. he gets the career, he gets music, he gets family, he gets pat. he’s decided that for him, having all the things he wants is better than only having one thing he wants in the exact way he wants it. the career might not be his dream, music is still something he keeps private, he still has to lie to his parents and he still has to keep his relationship with pat a secret. none of these are ideal, but for a lot of people having it all is better than having it perfect. and in fact, learning to find happiness through non-ideal situations has given him better results than having one thing fully and having happiness the way he wants but only in that limited aspect. no matter what, there’s always gonna be what ifs, there’s always gonna be if onlys, but one thing that no one can take away from pran now is his ability to decide for himself. he plots his own path and finds happiness in it. his life is no longer being lead, he’s leading it. and he chooses to lead it by being the kindest he can to everyone, bc thats the pran i know and love. the one that cares with actions more than words, and will always look for the good in people. thats why i love him.

(sorry i wrote a whole ass essay anon. you said you enjoyed my takes on pran so heres a whole ass heap of them. i clearly have a lot of untapped feelings about these boys still and as soon as im given a question and a vessel through which to unleash all my thoughts, i just cant stop. so yeah, ugh, hope you enjoy this mess)

[sly-merlin]

KILLING ME- 14

pairing : law student!reader + yuta

genre : (fluff)  angst , mafia au/ arranged marriage au.

warnings of this chapter : cursing, mention of drugs, character death.

words : ~4k

summary :

“life’s never fair y/n. realise it as soon as you can . it is the only secret for living a regretless life.”                                  

or            

“ curiousity got the cat hitched”

K.M masterlist

K.M 13

TAGLIST : @kpop-choco @moon-yuta @kawaiiayasan @btm-taeyong @exfolitae @lanadreamie @cheersskznct ​​ @hyuckiesgf ​​ @theworld-accordingtocasey ​​@simplybree

@yiyi4657 @sorrywonwoo @sillywinnergladiator   @minejungwoo @leesalts @mal-nakamoto23 @ro2424 @itlittlefangirl @nctzens-world @bl–ankhaeji @jeaneteflo @nuoyii @bralessmermaid @minhoseyeliner @tyongpoetry @swimmingkpopblog @jkjkseo @orphicmoon @floralescapes

A/N : this chapter marks the celebration of this blog surpassing 600 followers! thank you so much for all the support! also for minor readers, the sfw versions of nsfw chapters are given at the end of the masterlist so check those properly before reading.

•••••••••••••

y/n! Are you sleeping?”

Registering his words, you replied in a groggy voice,“What the fuck do you want?”

“Your phone. I left mine in the medical room. I need to call Mark right now.” with some authority, he spoke.

Whining loudly, you fell back on the bed. It was only due but flailing your arms and legs like a kid in a toy store, you let out a screech full of annoyance, cursing your fate.

Were you really going to babysit him now?

"Have you suddenly lost your hearing? Stop with this sick attitude and open the door."

A puff of air left your nose, your chest moved rhythmically with your stomach and you relaxed your arms beneath your head, eyes fixed at the fan above and ears ringing with his voice. He kept calling you and after a number of shouts, you started humming to distract yourself, afraid that you'd end up helping him otherwise. That was something, naturally, you were not interested in. Last time he had ignored your voice and now nature had presented you with an opportunity to return the favour. Just with a bit less flavour.

"Are you dead?"

"Hmmm. To you, yes I am." Mumbling, you yawned and pushed yourself up to reach your side table and fishing out your earphones from the bottom drawer, you untangled them and fixed them comfortably in your ear, hiding yourself underneath the sheets.

Sonata no.14 instantly transported you away from the noise and the stress that was your unwanted husband, yuta. The smile playing on your lips widened as you realised that you were his only mode of communication at the moment.

But You were going for a nap. Until then, he could wait. And thrash. And cry. Or die.

Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you rotated the handle of the door to walk outside but your little trip was interrupted when your body collided straight into a wall. No. The obstruction was too soft for a wall.

Opening your eyes properly, you saw yuta standing stiff. Surprised at the sudden appearance, you immediately stumbled back and in hurry, hit your spine on the wooden door. The glare of his eyes, that always spoke more than you could comprehend, coupled with a clenched jaw, was not a very pleasant sight for sure yet you found it harder to dart your own eyes away from him.

"Your phone" he seethed, breathing deeply.

"Huh?" You croaked out.

He raised his brow and in an instant, the previous scenario played like a short movie in your head. Snapping your head down, you regarded his leg with pity. He obviously noticed it immediately but seemed to ignore it and refrained from saying anything. Good for you, you thought.

"Are you deaf?"

Your furrowed brows met his eyes and with a roll of his own, he picked up his finger to force his demand but you managed to walk back inside your room before he could've done that.

Your back faced him as you contemplated your options while slowly stretching your arm to reach for your phone on the other side of the bed.

should you even be giving him your phone?

You had more trust in Taeyong than the man you shared a roof with so there was no way you were doing that.

Unbeknownst to you, yuta was watching your movements intently and the way you bobbed your head, he knew you were scheming something so he decided to be polite for a moment. Only until you were needed. Or your phone was needed.

Once the phone was in your hand, another thought crossed your mind.

"Wait. Where is the house phone?" Crossing your arms, you asked him slyly, already knowing the answer

"You fucking never got it installed. It's still in its stupid package" he seemed rather impatient.

"And you could've called reception through the door telecom. He would have phoned Mark for you. These rich apartments certainly have more hospitality tha-

"I CAN'T GO AROUND DISTRIBUTING AN UNDERGROUND CRIMINAL'S CONTACT NUMBER TO EVERYONE"

He inhaled and exhaled and you just watched until he opened his eyes again, hand reaching out to you.

"Chill. I've every right to be sceptic especially when you are the one asking for it."

Finding Mark's number on your phone, you called him.

Yuta's hand threaded through his rough hair as he noticed what you were trying to do.

"Hey mark!" Your chirpy voice resounded in the room and yuta was sure this was some different spirit speaking. You sounded too bubbly for the way you were investigating him just a second ago.

"Yes yes. His phone exactly.i don't trust him enough to hand over my phone so that's why I'm calling you myself. Just hurry up if you can or you might have to clean up a dead body in the next few hours."

With that you cut the phone. Without meeting yuta's gaze and resting your hand on the handle, you mumbled,

"He'll be here in an hour."

You were about to close the door when he stopped it with the palm of his hand, alerting you with the force.

"Tell him to get some food too."

And limping, he retired back, to the couches.

Sighing, you messaged mark. Had it been for something else, you'd have ignored but your own stomach had signalled you that it needed some good food so you chose not to fight against your own body.

Now, only the taste of the food could decide how many days you were going to tolerate that barbaric human.

"Are you still going to that stupid internship?" Johnny hesitantly murmured from your desk chair while taking big bites from the plate.

"It's not stupid please! I’m just waiting for them to actually pay attention to my awesome capabilities so they can transfer me to the main branch. This is not bad either but”, you stopped to lick your forefinger and tasting the sauce, continued, “but I really wanna go into the criminal unit. That’s where the actual fun is. As long as i’m being paid decently, i’ll suffer with the stupid research work here.”

“With the tongue as sharp as yours, I think you should be getting ready for a demotion instead” he laughed, showing you his fake bunny teeth in the most annoying and childish way.

“Ha ha ha ha. Some well wisher you are! Thank you so much for looking out for me but I'll be fine. Who knows the gatekeeper’s pay package is more than me. So it’d be a win-win in that case too I guess?” when you did a drum roll with your chopsticks to stress upon your point, he laughed harder.

"So being broke is the new black?" Rolling his eyes, he dragged out, "I swear you kids don't know how this world works."

"And you, grandpa of the century, knows?"

"I'm aware of what I need for my survival and from what I've learnt, you can either take risks or look for job security. In your case, " he fake coughed, "where the proportions of risk taking have already exceeded the acceptable limit, a job security is the best and safest option to choose."

"And that would justify my greed and desire to work for the biggest company of this city."

"Kun. The security you need and the independence you seek would be given by kun. Chois are hmm how to say? Cheap? Yeh cheap. They have no work ethics. "

"Have you worked with them, johnny?"

"No. I'm ju-

"Then was your ex a choi?" You saw his eyes comically and cutely widening at your remark.

"No. My ex wasn't a choi and that's not what I'm saying and you know that."

"Oh. So your ex wasn't a choi. Then a lee? Kim? Im? Oh my god! Look at your cheeks seo!" You dragged out. He shook his head as you kept wiggling your brows at him.

"She was a kim but that doesn't mean I would hate all kims dude. That's baseless and stop ignoring the topic. I want you to apply in Kuns. It's the best option. Do it as soon as you-

"Yeah yeah we'll see about that. First take that bitch back. I can't even nap in his presence. "

"Umm. Yeah. You gotta tolerate him. And besides he's injured. Injured yuta is like a gun without a bullet. He's gonna shout for a day or two and then peace out. He'll be sleeping and reading in his room and you won't even know if he's alive or not."

"Now that's bullshit. What is he going to do here anyway? I hope he can hop himself on one leg because even if the sun rises from the north, I am not going to do a single task for him. He can die hungry , for all I care.”

“Do you think you can endure him for some tasty dinners?”

Clicking your tongue, you quipped, “Do you really think you can buy me with a few homemade meals?”

Day 1

Yes. you were sold. The moment the tasty noodles had melted in your mouth, you knew you had no dignity. And you were indeed ashamed of yourself.

Earlier, Renjun had called you to inform you that he had delivered the food and medicines for yuta and had left your dinner box but he had failed to mention the special and endearing note that was pasted on the glass box. In the curvy letters, it read bitchy piglet and you swore the only person you’d be killing before yuta would be jaehyun. But you were going to use jaehyun to build up your tolerance instead.

When you went out to clean your dishes, he was playing some game on his phone, excitement evident from the way he was laughing every other second. Maybe if he remained occupied, he would not be so insufferable.

Day 3

"Oyii! Oyii!"

No. You were wrong. He was very very much insufferable.

At midnight, his voice echoed, disturbing your sleep. You cursed at the cool atmosphere that had prevented you from using the air con which otherwise would have blocked his annoying screeches. But it seemed like bad luck wanted to change its name to y/n instead. With your name being called like a broken record, it was a fight between you and him that you were not going to lose. Shuffling to your side, you covered your ears with the other pillow and tried to drown out the annoyingly demanding and hoarse voice. There was no way you were giving him the satisfaction of having any power over you. He could cry for all he liked!

“What the fuck do you want at this hour?”

Attempting a glare at him through sleepy lids, you spewed with irritation. Unlike you, he was very much awake, breathing with the sole purpose of making you question your whole existence.

“Pillow” scratching his non-existent beard, he mumbled.

Your nostrils flared and jaw clenched at such inconvenient command.

“You summoned me for a pillow? A pillow that can normally be found on a person’s bed? Can you please rectify your demand or did I just simply hear something wrong?”

The opened curtains and the moonlight that drenched the room was the only source that illuminated his face for you and even with drooping eyes, you could see how serious he was and yet you couldn't hold your tongue back because he simply deserved every shit you bestowed him with.

“Turn the lights on and count the pillows on my bed! And when you are done, get me some pillows from your room.” he simply stated.

“Why should i give you my pillow? I need them!”

“Because I don't use a pillow and I need it asap!”

“Then why do you suddenly need one? To disturb my sleep? Oh that makes sense.” and suddenly, your eyes had synced with your body to side with your fight mode.

“I need them for elevating my leg. The bandage is too tight and it’s not comfortable.”

“Then why don't you walk out of the room and get some cushions for yourself!” you raised your volume.

“Because my leg is in pain and i’m unable to get up? What makes you think I'm dying to see your ugly face at this time of the night. I dont wanna have nightmares of you as well but i can't help it ok!”

“you should have kept them near you. And who are you calling ugly hmm? You poop fac-

“Okay scream for all you want! But get me a pillow when your battery dies down!”

“What the fuck d- are you covering your ears? Wow ways to be generous!”

Stomping your foot, you left the room to get the hardest cushion on the couch.

“Here! Next time call Mark if you want anything. Don’t raise your voice ever again to call me because unlike you, i have work in the morning and hence I need some sleep..”

Just when you were about to leave after shoving the cushion in his hand, he spoke up again,

“This is damn hard! I asked for your pillow specifically and not th- AHH!”

A scream left him as you harshly removed the support , leaving his leg to painfully meet the mattress.

“How about you fix your attitude before fixing your leg?” suggesting, you dropped the cushion on the floor and left.

He didn't call you after that. Nor that you cared. However, the sleep in your eyes somehow vanished. Dancing on your sides didn’t help. Neither did drinking a glass of water. So, with a groan, you listened to your conscience and picked up your extra pillow that was sadly too perfect for your enemy.

Padding to his room, you tried your best to scrutinise and hearing his heavy snores, you placed the pillow right under his thigh and the cushion under his calf. Scoffing at his sleeping figure, you internally groaned to remind yourself that you hadn't done it for him. It was just a debt. For the blanket he had once covered you with. Nothing more and nothing less.

Day 5

You just wanted him out of your hair. He was just being a load on your head. At first, only the work was kicking your ass, then jungwoo was kicking you like a punching bag for an hour straight and adding to your distress was yuta.

"I'm not your maid! Stop piling up the dishes for me. I've had enough mercy on you. From today onwards, get a cleaner for yourself or buy disposable cutlery. I'm not going to clean after you!"

With a roll of his eyes, he had ignored you.

And so did you. Pasting a warning note on the sink tap, you had left for the library with a dying hope that maybe the kitchen would be spotless on your arrival or you'd be dialing some numbers in the evening.

For someone who despised the solemn atmosphere of libraries, you had successfully spent 11 hours in the said hellish room. It was 11 p.m and you wanted to sleep, more than anything but here you were, waiting for yugyeom so he'd just pick you up for a good drinking session that you were dying to have.

Fortunately, you weren't the only one who had missed living these past days. Everyone, for different reasons, was suffering so you felt a little less bad for yourself even though you knew your troubles were far more grave than their academic burdens.

"Wake up shorts" someone whispered in your ear. Squirming on your seat, you whipped your head in your sleepy state and found jungkook caressing your head, goofily smiling at you.

"I thought you wanted to hang out till the next morning" air quoting the last words, he picked up your bag.

"Yeah. Let's go. I'm all ready for a night full of vodkas." You yawned out.

"Definitely. No. You are going home. We can have a small get together me and yuggy are done with our final project." He dragged you out into the parking lot.

" I feel like it's been years since we got drunk together. You are never here anymore!" You whined at him, complaining your heart out.

"I will be. Soon. Then we can celebrate your little choi job as well."

"Oh please. Don't even mention it. If I had penny for every time they rolled their eyes at me, I'd be richer than your parents kook." You huffed out and as his gentle laugh surrounded you, you closed your eyes resting your back against the seat, expecting to be up by the time he'd park.

But the next day, you woke up tangled in the sheets of your bed, unaware of the events of the previous night.

When you had warned yuta about the dirty dishes, you hadn't expected him to fill the corners of the kitchen with disposable containers. It looked like you had missed a whole drama while sleeping in the library. The kitchen was shining except for the new utensils. But as long as you were not babysitting him, you were fine with anything. You didn't want to jinx your relief, however, you were glad you would be able to get some work done. finally.

You had spoken too early for your own good. Just when you sat down to write your paper, passionate and enthusiastic howls of that man pierced through your earphones and once again, you opened the window and hopped outside, in the balcony, ready to drown him out. Sipping on your lemonade, you gaped at the scenery the not so distant traffic provided you with and somehow, your thoughts wandered to the only person these horns reminded you of. Johnny.

What are you doing? Your fingers hovered over the text but once again, you deleted the message, declaring it to be too childish for someone as mature as him. Maybe you were just being silly. Maybe you were not. But who was going to put a stamp on your maybe?

Tears pricked your eyes as the harsh words of your senior thundered in the room. He kept shouting and you had no option than to consume each and every word he directed at you. Even if you were being insulted in front of your twenty other co-workers, staying quiet was the best option, you ascertained. so along with your saliva, you gulped your explanations down your throat.

Howsoever unconscious, you were still in the wrong. There was no excuse as to why you had mailed the wrong bills, apart from the headache that was caused by the person possibly lying on the sofa and watching t.v back home. No matter how much you tried to run away from his existence, he had somehow managed to let himself inside your head.

Glaring at the kid who asked for his turn on the park swing, you pushed yourself a little higher, letting the wind greet your stinging eyes as it hit your face in waves. Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you chose to ignore jungwoo for a day as it was the time, you decided, to let all the lessons that the past few months had taught you sink into your mind, to bleed into your soul so you won’t ever be able to deviate from them. Ever.

Only if that was so easy. You knew blaming others for your problems was no solution but trivialising them by not paying heed wasn't a smart move either.

When you reached home, your frustrations had died down. So when yuta simpered and pointed towards your empty container, telling you how he had already finished your supposed dinner, you simply rolled your eyes at him, robbing him of whatever he wanted to achieve by riling you up. Heating up the water, you were about to open the noodles packet when yeong called you.

You stared at the shattered phone screen in disbelief as the endless tears ran down your cheeks. As you verbalised the words to yourself again, your body met the floor with a thud.

Jungkook. Drugs. No more.

Three words had silenced the screeches in your head and your mind busied itself in rejecting what you had heard for it had to be a lie. But what how were you going to ignore the heart wrenching screams that yeong had let out. How were you going to dismiss the truth.

How were you all going to accept it?

••••••••••••••••

next update: Some day between 5-7 June.

[rattyoakenbitch]

❝𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞❞ ─ 𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨

hey, it's not like you ever tried to stay . .

❥ content ; gn reader, angst, dark themes, yandere themes, toxic relationship

❥ warnings ; sxlf hxrm & mxtilation, swearing, verbal abuse, manipulation, slight nxdity lol

❥ synopsis ; all you wanted was his attention. and by the gods, you were going to get his attention by any means.

❥ a/n ; first mello fic (: i've been wanting to write something dark for a while and ig i finally got the opportunity lol. i thought i got out of my death note stage but i'm back, so please don't be afraid to send requests or ask to be added to my nonexistent taglist! alsoo while this oneshot does include s/h, i am in no way glorifying or romanticizing it!!! but i do tend to write angsty and dark fics. again, this is a work of fiction and i don't intend for anyone to take this too seriously and let this influence them.

The loud crash of a glass echoed throughout the room as a vase went flying through the air and collided with the wall, just a few feet from where you were standing.

You didn't flinch. Didn't scream. Didn't cry. Didn't react. You were used to Mello's fits of rage by now, months into your relationship. If you could even call it that, at this point.

You knew Mello wouldn't dare lay a finger on you; if he did, he'd cut off his own hands and have live with the guilt forever, knowing he brought you harm. Which is why you didn't react.

However, he didn't seem to have a problem when it was only verbal.

"I don't fucking get you!" Mello spat harshly and continued to rant, "Why did you think that was okay?! Did you once consider how I felt?! I was worried sick that some asshole hurt you but you come back a day later and tell me you were at some boy's house!"

You only scoff, leaning against the wall in a relaxed manner, eyeing the remaining shards of the vase carefully. Just like Mello, you were incredibly stubborn.

"Answer me, Y/N!"

"Okay, Mihael," you state cooly, using Mello's legal name and causing him to listen more intently. "First of all, I don't know what you expected me to do when you invited your weird mafia 'friends' over while I was trying to sleep. Second, he's not 'some boy', his name is Y/F/N and he's one of a few people I can trust. I don't know what you think of me."

"You could've gotten a hotel room, that's what!"

"With what money, Mihael?! What fucking money? You forced me to quit my job and then practically lock me up in this hell hole that I can't even call 'home' anymore!"

Mello huffed. "Pfft, you should be grateful. I've kept you safe all this time, away from the dangers of the world. You're alive because of me. Me. You're mine."

"Yeah, some fucking life, right?"

"I provide for you, I protect you from the monsters out in the world, but you still decide to go and whore yourself out to your little 'friend'," Mello sneered, his sharp voice dripping with venom.

You stared at your boyfriend in disbelief. All words, all arguments and nasty retorts expiring on your lips.

"I.." You start, but laugh pitifully. "I don't even know what you're saying. I don't know if you even know what you're saying. Honestly, Mello, just when I thought you couldn't surprise me anymore, you start spewing complete and utter bullshit out of your mouth." Mello's silence only egged you on. "It's no wonder Near always came in first place." Aaand there it was. You snapped.

If looks could kill, you'd be dead. Mello's eyes widened in anger at the mention of Near, reminding him of his inferiority.

In a completely different situation where he wasn't on the receiving end, Mello would be smiling proudly, listening to your clever retorts and comebacks. You've always been as stubborn and hot headed as him, and he really liked that about you, fuck that "opposites attract" bullshit. (I ACC LOVE THAT TROPE LOL IM SORRY) However, considering you were both extremely toxic people, it was far from entertaining when it was you who got in a fight with the other.

You didn't stop, though. If he was gonna play that who-could-be-more-toxic game, you weren't gonna back down.

"I don't know if it was the explosion or you've really always been that stupid, but you need to get the fuck over yourself and stop throwing tantrums when you find out that I have a life, too, and I have friends. Friends who actually give a damn."

You stare down each other in silence, a heavy tension hanging in the air. Still, after a few moments, Mello didn't make any effort to speak or react, other than walking out of the room.

Days, weeks went by. Mello hasn't spoken a word to you. Hasn't even looked in your direction when you passed each other or walked into the same room. You didn't exist anymore, and it worried you.

Mello was never like this. Within a few days or even hours after an argument, you would easily kiss and make up. Had you gone too far this time?

Besides the fact that Mello was intentionally giving you the cold shoulder, he was also busy with work, and was out of the house from midnight to early afternoon. During that time, you would stay at home and carry out your every day mundane tasks and chores.

Even now, you didn't seek comfort in your family or friends. You were either busy keeping the house clean, sleeping, or entertaining yourself on social media. But it was all a sad attempt to keep your mind occupied on anything else other than Mello.

And one day like any other where Mello was out doing whatever the hell mafia dudes do, you snapped. You decided you were sick of the silent treatment.

If Mello was gonna play dirty and ignore you, you were gonna give him something to react to.

Mello came home some time after sunset. Kicking off his boots as he walked in the front door, he immediately knew something was off. It was quiet - too quiet. Despite the fact that you were practically taking some sort of forced break after the argument, you acted the same. You went about your day and didn't bother acting shy or timid around Mello. You still hummed earworm pop songs to yourself or put on a podcast to fill the tense air. But now there was nothing. Just Mello, the walls, and the silence.

Mello cautiously walked around the house and searched for any signs of you, fearing the worst.

As he frantically looked around, he stopped abruptly at the sight of blood smeared onto the hallway wall.

Blood.

His heartbeat began to thump loudly in his ears.

Then he noticed more blood. And more, smeared up on the wall, and eventually a trail picked up. He followed the bloody trail as it lead him through the hallway and stopped outside of your shared bedroom that he hasn't been inside for weeks.

Mello shakily inhaled and braced himself for whatever gruesome scene he would walk into.

He reached for the doorknob, twisting it and letting himself in.

Soon as he did, he ceased all motions, his breath caught in his throat as he tried to process what his eyes were showing him.

There, you sat on the bed, nothing on but your underwear and one of Mello's shirts. On one hand, you loosely held a pocket knife. On the other, you had your sleeve rolled up, your inner arm facing Mello's direction.

Your doe eyes looked up from the floor and met Mello's panicked ones. He was finally looking at you again. Despite the gorey setting and the stinging in your arm, you smiled. You were real to him again.

Multiple cuts oozed blood and trickled down your arm, onto your now dirtied clothes and the once satin white sheets below you.

As Mello got closer, silently freaking out, he could now see that these weren't just cuts - you carved out words. Sentences, onto your arm.

Among the many bloody 'I love you's' and pleads, one word stuck out to him.

It was his name.

He felt sick. Distraught. Guilty. Afraid.

"Y/N," he choked out shakily.

His gaze trailed up your arm, your body, and fixated onto your seemingly innocent face. Your face was rested and gentle, your eyes still staring up at him with adoration and desperation. If it weren't for the blood that painted your whole body and surroundings red, he would have found comfort in your presence.

"I did this.." You ran your fingers along your fresh wounds, not once wincing or drawing back in discomfort. "For you."

You continued, a sick sweetness in your voice. "Jus' wanted to show you how much I love you.. You've been leaving me so lonely, Mello." You frowned. "It was only a matter of time before I had to do something. And now you're finally here.. And you won't leave me again."

[omegalomania]

I think tumblr ate my ask or it just didn't sent but what are your favorite Bastille songs / what are some songs you recommend?

i did NOT get this ask im very sorry anon.

it's genuinely hard for me to narrow down cause bastille is pretty up there in terms of favorite artists. i love all their shit, but a special mention goes out to their second studio album wild world since it's the one that made me a Fan

uh so here's a primer i guess i spent too much time on this lmao.

if you wanna listen to their big hits:

flaws - their first single in the uk. if you ever listened to ship playlists on 8tracks in like 2013-2015 then you've probably heard this song or a variant on it at some point.

pompeii - this is the song that really put them on the map and you definitely know it. it dominated the charts all over the place.

happier - the marshmello song that you've definitely heard before too. i think bastille wrote this for justin bieber or some shit but then decided they liked it too much to give it to him? lmao. anyway if you're not digging the version you hear on the radio all the time i recommend trying the stripped down version

good grief - their big hit off their second album. big in the uk, didn't really make as many waves elsewhere, but it's a really solid song anyway. one of those "upbeat tunes that's actually really fucking sad" ones

things we lost in the fire - another one off their first album. if you live in a wildfire area this might not be one to turn to. or maybe you'll find it cathartic idk i certainly do!!

quarter past midnight - a song about escapism, as was fitting when it was released in 2018 and equally fitting now. running away for a night of fucking around with friends, craving any kind of brief departure from the chaos of the modern world

skulls - this one was not a hit or a single and is technically a bonus track but i'm including it because once again if you ever clicked on a ship playlist on 8tracks in like 2013-2015 you've heard this one. and you know what that was justified this one is also good

if you wanna feel existentially depressed:

their whole discography. i mean i kid but i also don't. that's just kind of how bastille does it. BUT IN ALL SERIOUSNESS ones that hit me in particular would beeee

two evils - kind of a grim, haunting one introspecting about morality of the self.

oblivion - musing about the afterlife, love, and how time changes all of us.

those nights - contemplating what it is we seek when we plunge into reckless escapism, and the inherent loneliness of it; how even when surrounded by people there's still the pressure of the world outside, continuously coming to pieces

the draw - this one was written about the pull of pursuing a career in music vs. staying home with family and friends. in a broader sense, it can apply to a lot of things. i always felt it resonated with feelings of paranoia and displacement

winter of our youth - discusses childhood, nostalgia, and regret. if it feels like everything's slipping away, is it easier to relive the past, especially if the past is tinted rose?

sleepsong - loneliness, desperation, and the cyclical, abyss-like nature of all it encapsulates

if you want discussion of serious topics:

final hour - a bonus track off their second album that also became a bonus track off their third album? anyway this song talks about climate change and gun control. happy stuff

doom days - this one talks about, uh, everything! doomscrolling, political divides, escalating national tensions, climate change again, etc.

the currents - a song centered on political rhetoric and the power that figureheads have over the masses, the way they can orchestrate hate. basically it's not so subtly aimed at donald trump lmao, dan's literally sung it as much in a few live settings

WHAT YOU GONNA DO??? - social media addiction and the way capitalism and corporate interests have annexed our online experiences, fighting desperately for our attention as they seek to monetize every available aspect of our lives

four walls (the ballad of perry smith) - well this one is about uh. perry smith. who was charged with the death penalty for killing 4 people in the late 50's. but it's less directly about him and more a discussion of the morality of the death penalty and capital punishment

snakes - burgeoning anxieties and the impulse to turn to easy outs, like ignorance or alcoholism, to escape the world's global problems

if you want some pop culture sprinkled on top:

icarus - greek mythology. i like this one because it addresses something that i feel isn't addressed enough in discussions of this myth, which is that icarus is a very young lad. less about the pride of the fall, and more about the inherent tragedy of that.

laura palmer - the whole song is a david lynch shoutout. i've never seen twin peaks myself but the song still slaps.

daniel in the den - christian mythology. discusses the biblical tale of daniel in the lion's den and links that up to themes of betrayal and family.

poet - this one's a double feature, referencing both william shakespeare's sonnet 18 and edmund spencer's sonnet 75. also one of my favorites.

send them off! - this is another one of my favorites of theirs. it's also been described by dan as "othello meets the exorcist" and it very much delivers there

if you want something uplifting:

joy - while bastille (understandably) has a bit of reputation as a band that makes sad music about sad things, they've definitely got some happier songs in their catalogue. pun intended cha ching. this one's one of their more straightforwardly happy tunes

survivin' - this was a song they wrote while they were touring and then felt weird about releasing once the panini hit because it felt a bit on the nose. they ended up releasing it anyway and i am so glad they did cause it's a mood

act of kindness - the "happy" part here is debatable but i'm gonna include it anyway. it’s when someone does something nice for you and that impulse Changes you way down deep you know???

warmth - one of those "the world's going to shit but at least we have each other" kinds of tunes

the anchor - one of those "the world's going to shit but you're the one fucking thing that's still keeping me here" kinds of tunes

give me the future - their latest single as of this writing and one of the more optimistic tracks in their catalogue imo! it's yearning, but it's also with a genuine hope for the future.

and LASTLY. because im going to take every chance i can to plug this band. im going to throw some collabs and covers at you because there's one thing this band does SUPER well and it's collabs and covers.

of the night - this is the big one. it mashes up rhythm of the night by corona and rhythm is a dancer by SNAP! and it's so good they still do this one live and it goes off every time.

no angels - a mashup of "no scrubs" by TLC and "angels" by the xx, poured into a strangely mournful tune with clips from the hitchcock movie psycho. doesn't sound like it should work but it does. kinda really does.

torn apart - with GRADES and lizzo no less!!! it's got two parts but they're both excellent listen to them both

weapon - collab with angel haze, dan priddy, and F*U*G*Z and one of my absolute favorites

remains - remix of their song "skulls" but featuring rag'n'bone man and skunk anansie that adds an entire new dimension to the song, really fucking excellent

old town road mashup - lil nas x's old town road meets lizzo's good as hell meets radiohead's talk show host meets talking heads' road to nowhere meets the osmond's crazy horse. "what the fuck that shouldn't work" i KNOW and yet here it is!! BLATANTLY BANGING!!!

we can't stop - one of the few times dan smith subtly changes the lyrics of the song he's covering (most of the time he opts to keep the original pronouns and the like, which is very nice to see). anyway this one mixes miley cyrus's we can't stop with eminem's lose yourself and billy ray cyrus's achy breaky heart. and also the lion king's i just can't wait to be king is there. yes i know it sounds batshit especially because the whole thing is surprisingly melodic and heartfelt and you know what it works.

anyone but me x nightmares - mashing up joy crookes' anyone but me with easy life's nightmares and absolutely one of my favorites.

bad guy mashup - how many songs can they include with the word "bad" in the title? we've got bad guy (billie eilish), bad decisions (bastille), bad romance (lady gaga), and bad blood (taylor swift). bastille even has a song called bad blood and they didnt use it. they used taylor swift's version. also the distinctive guitar riff from dick dale's misirlou is there.

somebody mashup - how many songs can they include with the word "some" in the title? someone like you (adele), somebody told me (the killers), somebody to love (queen), use somebody (kings of leon), and someone you loved (lewis capaldi). seriously these guys take mashups to a new level.

final song - this is a cover of MØ's final song. it also adds in craig david's 7 days and, impossibly enough, europe's final countdown. how does it work. how.

ALL RIGHT. THATS ALL IVE GOT IN ME. HOPE THIS HELPED ANON AND IM SORRY IF THIS IS TOO MUCH

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Welcome To The Pack: Sinking Fangs

Summary- 10.2k Alpha Steve x You. Things have settled back on Pack Lands. Over a month has passed since you and Steve returned from Wakanda and now there is just one last thing to deal with to put the ordeal of your time with the Pierce Pack to rest, deal with Council Member Ross. Brock now has a new asset on hand and gives a preview of how efficient he is. Dividers made by @firefly-graphics​

Warnings- Violence, Killing, Sex. 

A/N- Wow, thank you all so much for reading this. Really it has been a passion project of mine, and Im so happy I could bring my wolves into the MCU verse. We are at the end of this story with Alpha Steve and the Little One. I hope it delivered all that you had hoped it would and enjoyed it as much as I have. Reading your comments and asks have meant more to me then you could possibly know. Happy Howling 🐺

 Chapter 9 (part 2) / Masterlist 

The chill tickled his senses and that was what woke Steve up that morning, his hand sweeping over the bed to find you not there, but your warmth was still clinging to the bed sheets. You haven’t been up for long. Rolling to his stomach, he moved to resettle, listening for where you might be in the cabin. But all was silent, all he could pick up was the drip-drip of the coffee maker in the kitchen, so you had been there just before, there was no rustle on the couch no sounds of your feet springing off the cabin's wood floor though. But the heavy autumn air did draw his attention to the wide-open door to the deck. Rolling up to rub at his face to waken further, Steve leaned down and grabbed sleep pants nearby to tug them on. He advanced on the deck and took a look around. 

The deck was frost-covered, as well as the towering pines housing the migrating songbirds sheltering overnight and that one grey squirrel that seemed to claim the back deck as his since you started feeding them. Steve’s eyes scanned for you, and the Wolf immediately picked up your warm scent, eyes dropping to see where the soles of your feet and toes had melted a trail across the frost covered deck. Following it, he went down the stairs to the lower deck that stretched out over the lake, and there you were, at the very end with an afghan wrapped around your shoulder, legs peeking out from underneath it. Steve could see where you were arched onto your toes to keep the rest of your feet from touching the frost covered wood. Getting a quicker spring to his step, Steve approached you from behind. 

“Y/N, what are you doing out here so early? You must be freezing.” His Wolf growled in agreement when you looked over your shoulder. Even as cold as you looked, your eyes were bright with excitement. “I heard geese overhead, and I wanted to see them flying south.” Once he reached you, his arms went around your waist and drew you back so that you would lean into him, your feet moving to step on top of his to protect them from the frostbitten boards and the fog coming off the lake so early in the morning. His head tilted up to look in the clear blue sky above, something about the cold made it look sharper. Sometimes he forgot that son of a bitch Pierce kept you locked up so long in his compound, like an animal in a zoo. 

You missed out on the way their world would shift between warm sunshine filled lazy days to everything preparing for a long sleep. The woods were now constantly rustling with animals seeking food to store away, leaves windblown loose to swirl in patterns before falling to the forest floor to provide shelter for the tree roots. Overhead the sky would be swarmed with birds, quick off the wing as they left for winter bound destinations. Ice would soon form on the lake edges, sending the lake dwellers down into the depths to wait out the winter. And right now, your head tipped back to watch the obnoxious geese as the massive birds flew in their arrow path, carrying them out of sight. 

“Winter will soon be here,” Steve said with a smile, for it was his favorite time of year. As wonderful as all the others were, the snow brought a serene calmness to The Pack. Letting the Wolves loose for days to run across the snow. It was a time his Beast was most at home in the world. The biting winds and harsh cold he was made for. While the forest snapped from the intense ice and cold, he tracked through it, laying claim to all that was his and reminding nearby packs that a strong Alpha and his wolves claimed this territory. Then for his human side, he had a warm cabin, and now his Little One filling his home and his bed. Steve finally felt that maybe things were falling into place. 

You turned to face him, wrinkling your nose at him. “You know who else will be here soon ? Ross.” You reminded him with a worried look and Steve gave a soft growl at the man’s name, a pain in his ass if there ever was one. He had put him coming off for well over the past couple months since you two had returned from Wakanda. But Tony finally pushed him for this meeting, to go over what had actually happened to Pierce’s pack, and You. Pack on pack violence wasn’t tolerated among the council, supposedly. So Steve needed to explain his reasons for attacking. It was all bullshit, considering what you went through alone. 

“Don’t remind me Little One.” Steve gave a huff, warm breath washing over your face as his head dropped, burying his face in your neck, inhaling deeply. “The sooner he leaves the better. Come on, now my feet are cold.” He chuckled and drew you away, and back up the stairs towards the house once more. 

The morning was a bit more tense than usual. Steve was quiet, you felt like his concentration was discussing matters with his Wolf, knowing he would have to keep himself under control with the Alphas coming into his territory. Initially, he was going to refuse this meeting, but Tony convinced him that it would be a show of good faith to the council if he allowed them access and actually explained what happened. The ex Pierce pack now belonged to Caine, who told the members the council sent what happened already. But Ross couldn’t let it go. Wanting to still hear from Steve. Finally, the Alpha relented, unsure if it was entirely the right thing, but it was done with. He wasn’t one to back down from his word. 

“You still going up to the yard?” You asked cautiously, knowing Steve was a bit all over the place, and his head lifted at your voice, checking his watch. 

“Yea, guess I better get up there if I want to get at least one truck off to the mill.” He drained his mug and set it in the sink, grabbing his jacket as he drew up to you. “Shoot me a text if anything happens while I’m up the mountain.” His fingers grasped your chin and placed a kiss on your lips, you nodded with an encouraging smile. 

“Of course Steve.” You nudged at him and tilted for one more coffee stained kiss from him, and when he left, you listened to his heavy footfalls take him down the porch and then moments later one of the pickups at the garage start-up. Once he was gone, you moved to settle on the couch, pulling your phone out to call Natasha. This had become the morning routine, once Steve headed out, you checked in with the Red Wolf. 

After a few moments, Natasha picked up, you could see here setting her phone up on a nightstand before going back to packing up a duffel bag. 

“Hey, you coming home for a bit?” you asked hopefully. She had been gone since she left you and Steve in Wakanda, and only heard from her now and then till you started to actively video chat her once a day. If she would pick up the phone that was. Some days when she answered it would be from a car while driving, a motel room, middle of the street. And the days she didn't, you weren't sure if you wanted to know where she was holed up in her search for the missing pack members.

“No, not yet, I picked up another lead last night, and about to go check it out.” 

“Natasha, Steve wouldn't be upset if you came home. It's been weeks and every trail you come across leads to a dead end.” You say into your phone while propping it on the coffee table. 

“No, I'm sure of it this time. He really fits Bucky’s description. Tall, dark hair, slight limp to his walk. Sounded like he passed through town.” Natasha sounded hopeful. So many times Natasha was sure she finally found Bucky, and it always led to a dead end.

“Was there anyone else with him?” You questioned, and her face got a bit crestfallen, shaking it slowly. 

“No, nothing about the others. Has Laura said anything about Clint contacting her?” 

Another shake of the head no. “Nothing, no one has seemed to hear anything. Steve’s even been reaching out to other packs. Someone named Fury is coming soon, he works for the Council, and is going to try to help figure out where they went.” 

Natasha’s green eyes widened a bit. “Fury? Well damn, Uh, how did Steve feel about that?” your eyes narrowed at your packmate, yes you were still fairly new, and was reminded of that in moments like these. 

“From what I understand, Steve called him himself. Why? What do I not know?” You questioned, and Natasha shrugged. 

“You know Steve, he's not on board with the whole Wolf Packs need to be “policed” like the council wants to do. But Fury, he's one of the better ones. Kinda walks his own line, you know? Steve worked with him way before he was an Alpha, at an agency called Shield.”

This piqued your interest, even your Little Wolf stirred, cause Steve rarely talked about his past. “What was Shield?”

Natasha searched the drawers one last time while she remained talking. “Oh it was Wolves trained in special skills, usually combative and logistics. They would be dispatched into problem areas for wolves and humans alike, working with the military. Bucky was a part of it as well. Their team was called the Howling Commandos.” Natasha snapped the drawers shut, and went to sit on the bed, picking up the phone. “Course this was way back when. I'm a bit surprised Steve hasn’t talked about it?” 

“No, but honestly Steve doesn't talk much about his past.” You worried your lip a bit and the Little Wolf brushed against your mind. 

<He will talk about it when he's ready.>

Natasha gave a shrug. “He will sometime, Steve’s time with his ex wasn’t easy. He probably just wants to forget some of that. With your help.” Natasha smirked at you, and you gave her a roll of your eyes, your Little Wolf snickering in agreement with your friend. “Have you thought about making it all official?” She eased out the question, and you wish you could give a resounding yes. You had considered asking Steve many times about it since you two have returned home. 

But something held you back, the idea of being connected to someone mind and body scared you in a way that seemed so unreasonable considering you and your Little Wolf knew you wouldn't ever want another Mate. Steve assured you many times that he would share that bond with you, but only when you asked for it, and never pushed or made you feel guilty like you should ask. Plus the way you and Steve were right now, it was comfortable and content, you hated the thought of asking for more and ruining the rhythm of happiness you found with each other, even though in Wakanda you were more than ready. 

“I know Steve would the second I asked him, it's me waiting. After living with Pierce for so long, Nat honestly it scares me. If Steve connected, I would belong to him. I know he wouldn’t do anything I wasn't okay with, but knowing he could. Fuck that just scares me.”

“Y/N, does he even know you feel this way?” Natasha asked softly and you shook your head. “Talk to him Y/N, Steve will want to know what you are thinking.” 

Your Little Wolf curled around in your mind, growling softly. <She’s right, we should communicate with our Alpha.>

“Think about it Y/N, you open up, maybe Steve will as well.” Natahsa grabbed her duffel and shouldered it. “Listen, I will be home soon, okay? Don’t worry about me, I'm used to being out on my own quite a bit.” 

“Doesn't mean we don’t still worry.” you chuckled softly and gave a wave into the phone screen. “Talk to you tomorrow Nat. Bye.” 

After hanging up, you settled back into the couch thinking over yours and Natasha’s discussion with the bond. Maybe it was time to bring it up with Steve, about why you were hesitant. 

Maybe he’s hesitant to? I know he has offered but-

<But nothing Y/N, his past is his past and even with the bond, he can choose not to share it. You know some things still stay private unless you choose to share them. Same goes with Steve and his Wolf. Besides… you're not just a little curious about before he was Alpha?> 

Of course I am, I just never really brought it up. 

The Little Wolf huffed out in frustration and shook out her fur as she moved to a stretch. <You have wanted it since before I came home, you were just waiting for me to come back.>

How do you know about that? 

<Cause I was never actually gone, just trapped.> she responded, starting to trot away from the front of your awareness with a whisk of your tail. <Now it's simply fear holding you back. The Alpha deserves to know.> 

You huffed a bit at your wolf being so dismissive. Pushing up off the couch, and going back to the bedroom to go get ready for the arrival of Ross to the pack. 

Up on the mountain, the lot was just finishing up, Steve waiting with hands on his hips, watching as Sam worked the Skid Cat to load the last of the logs on. Once the last one was on, he pulled himself up the side and started working on strapping them down for transport when Sam parked the skid cat nearby, and hopped down to go join Steve. Pulling himself up the other side, both men working quietly tightening the straps till everything was safe to be taken down the mountain. 

“Your awful quiet today Man.” Sam finally broke the ice while twisting to take a seat at the top of the pile, Steve making a similar move to sit next to him. 

“Lot on my mind I guess.” He pulled off his heavy duty work gloves, and slapped them down beside him.

“This to do with Ross or Y/N?” Sam questioned while falling back to his palms planted on the log behind him, relaxing for a moment. 

“A bit of both. Ross, I'm just ready to get him off Pack Land.” Steve admitted, and the Wolf growled lowly at the mention of the man's name. “Y/N, were good and starting to feel comfortable, and settled after everything from this summer. But is this what she wants for sure?” 

<Course it is, our mate is happy Steve.> The Wolf pinned back his ear at the humans worries, sighing. 

Sam listened and gave a nod. “I remember feeling that way with Sara when we first started. ‘Was she happy, would she want this to be her life.’ Nerve wracking. I wanted to ask her, but fuck I was scared that she was gonna tell me it was temporary.” Sam flashed a grin. “Then I sucked it up, and brought it up one night. Damn, she jumped me in all of two seconds, told me I was an idiot and that she wasn't going anywhere.” Sam chuckled at the memory, and Steve gave his own amused laugh. “Anyways, I had nothing to be worried about, and I don't think you do either. Y/N looks at you man with those god damn heart eyes all the time whenever she catches a whiff of you. And Ross, I know you're not happy about it. I'm glad i'm not in your position right now.”

Steve rolled his eyes at him. “Thanks Sam.” 

“But you're gonna sail through it, tell Ross what happened, he's just being a prick cause you're not rushing to sign his accords.” Sam moved then to push off, sliding back down to the ground, and motioning to the truck's cab. When one Alpha refuses, others will not be afraid to say they agree. He’s afraid of more Alphas and packs agreeing with you. Come on Alpha, you're stalling. Let's get our shit finished, your best friend gonna be here soon.” 

Steve grabbed his gloves and jumped down, growling at Sam. “You're an ass.” while stuffing his gloves in his back pocket and yanking the door open to get in. 

“It’s a gift I’ve worked on for years.” Sam grinned, grabbing the walkie talkie and listening for the static. “Steve and I are taking the last load, clean up guys.” Once he got the confirmation, he got in, and Steve put the truck in drive and headed down the mountain. 

It wasn’t long till Steve was once more pulling into the Packs compound and it hit him as soon as he opened the door. The Alpha himself bristled in Steve’s mind scenting the other Alphas on his land, and he had to push the Wolf back from the front of his consciousness, the beast set off by not just one outside Alpha, but two. Sam coming out the other side, side eyed Steve a moment to make sure he didn't lose control because he saw the situation before Steve did. Sam was well aware the moment Steve saw them, just from the growl that raised from the depths of his chest in a menacing tone before dying down. 

On HIS porch, with HIS mate was Ross, Tony, and a female. Steve was unsure of who it was, but he was more focused on three wolves surrounding you that were outsiders. Heavy handed, he slammed the truck door shut, and all heads turned towards him to see him stalking towards his porch. 

Tony immediately moved to a stand, clapping his hands together. “And there's the old boy now! We were just about to go up the mountain to find you Steve.” Ross gave a cold nod in agreement, and the woman sitting next to him, Steve finally recognized Ross's assistant, Judy. Steve’s gaze shifted hotly from the wolves to you, taking you in. You seemed relax, one leg crossed over another, your hand wrapped around a coffee mug, and everything in you seemed to say that you were comfortable yet alert. Immediately as soon as you saw him looking at you with such an intense look, you set your cup aside, and eased to a stand, bushing past Judy and going down the stairs to reach your Alpha, smiling in that welcome home way. 

Immediately Steve loped an arm around you and pressed his lips to your temple with a whispered hushed tone just for you. “Everything okay?” you hummed a yes, exchanging the sentiment with a nuzzle to his shoulder before turning back to your waiting guests. 

“They just arrived minutes before you and Sam, Alpha.” You say cheerfully, the other three following you off the porch and standing around. You can feel Steve against you, not growling, but the vibrations of silent rumbles shifted through him. Your hand lightly slides under the back of his shirt to press against his lower back, and you feel him calm down, a deep inhale clearing his mind. 

“I was expecting you all much later, and I have a business to run, orders to be placed and people to keep employed within the compound and from the town below. But I’m here now, shall we go inside to talk?” Steve offered with an extended hand towards his front door. Ross once more seemed to look at Steve with disdain, making the Little Wolf in you bristle at the rudeness to your Alpha, but Steve chose to ignore it so you did as well. Judy though was another matter, the woman standing just to the other side of Ross with her tablet for notes, and she seemed to be eyeing Steve in a whole other way. A way that made you self conscious that he didn't have your bite showing any other unmated wolves he was committed. It made your jaw ache as you clenched it shut, your Little Wolf pacing now, panting slightly being on edge.

<She's a threat, I can smell her desire.> The Little Wolf's ears swept back flat against her skull, yellow eyes sharp as they watched Judy flaunt a bit in front of Steve, flashing her neck with sweeps of her hair over her shoulder and lowering her gaze in a way that wasn't necessary for anyone other than her Alpha or Mate. Now that Steve was here, you could smell the change in her, the heated desire this woman had for him. Steve must have felt you tense, cause his hand flexed on your hip and fingers pressed in the curve. 

She is only a threat if we allow her to be. Your attention turned away from her back to Tony and Ross. 

"Yes let's finish up with this." Ross snapped a bit and proceeded up the stairs. 

 As they headed inside, Steve dipped his head to Sam to whisper in his ear. Sam nodded at whatever Steve had said and stepped away from the group. You watch as he leaves, until Steve's touch pushes you gently up the stairs, wanting to keep you with him during this. You embrace for going inside, assaulted by the scent of all the extra people, but the one that was really irritating you the most was Judy. Who flung her hair once more over her shoulder, showing off the slim column of her neck. 

Your teeth bared slightly, although you flashed her a smile, digging for a hair tie in your pocket. “Here, your hair seems to be bothering you.” you held out the offending tie to her and she looked at your hand with a slight wrinkle of her nose, and plucked it from your fingers. 

“Thanks.” she muttered, but was quick to walk away from you. You noticed she flung your hair tie back on the kitchen island counter and stuck to Ross’s side while they settled on the couch. Judy’s nose dropped to her tablet, suddenly very busy. 

Not a threat but she's annoying as hell. Steve isn't even paying her any attention. You stated confidently to you Little Wolf as Steve dropped a kiss to your shoulder while going to the bar to pour some tumblers of the Wakandian liquor to offer the guests. 

“Be careful, it's strong.” he said as he passed it to Ross, Tony and Sharon. The last two he kept for you and him, once he settled in his leather chair, you perched on the arms chair allowing Steve to keep a possessive hand on your thigh. You sip it, licking your bottom lip afterward to clear the droplets collected and smirked to yourself when Steve’s fingers flexed and dug into your muscle before loosening again. 

<His…>

Yes we are. You thought while sipping the strong liquor once more. 

Tony, you noticed, was well aware of what Steve had given him and took a tentative sip. Ross though, shot back a heavy swallow, and started sputter and grabbing a kerchief from his pocket. “Christ Rogers, what was that?”

“It's Wakadian Liquor, courtesy of King T’Challa. So, what is it you want, Senator Ross? You felt the need to come all the way to my Pack to discuss my packs matters?” 

Ross set his glass to the side, and your gaze followed to see that he completely missed the coaster, and your eyes flashed in irritation at his ignorant behaviour. 

“Well as you know, the council over the American Wolves don't condone pack on pack violence. I understand the unique situation with Pierces ex lone wolf.” Ross said, gesturing towards you. 

Steve snapped forward in his seat, a warning growl rising from him. “Her name is Y/N, and I accepted her as part of the Mountain Pack the day she arrived. She was never a lone wolf or lived in the no man's land. Y/N was on the run, for her life. Running from a mad Alpha looking to sell her. She was a victim, she didn't choose to cross boundaries. Treat her as such.” 

To be called a lone wolf insinuated you had abandoned your pack and disrespected your Alpha. A wolf gone rogue and living between pack lines was a dangerous wolf, traveling to find a new pack was acceptable. But to live entirely feral,was rare and often those beasts went a little mad, losing their sense of human side.  

Tony rubbed at his face, easy to tell that the two Alphas were going to start bristling at one another, and interrupted with a slightly cheerful voice. “Okay gentleman, let's be sure we keep to the purpose here.” 

Ross nodded, this time taking a much more careful sip of his drink. “I apologize Y/N. I'm not unsympathetic to your situation.” He stated towards you, which you nodded slightly in acceptance while Steve thrummed his fingers against your thigh, impatient now. “As I was saying, there are proper procedures we must take to investigate Pierce and properly hold him accountable. Now, he’s dead. And he can't pay for his crimes. So Alpha…” Ross snapped out. “What prompted you to take those measures without notifying the Council.” 

Steve slid his arm around your hip while leaning forward, moving to sit on the edge of his seat, instinctively you felt the Aloha growing angered, and slid from the arm of the chair onto his knee. You could feel his coiled muscles underneath you and you leaned back enough to feel his chest pressing partially against your back. “What prompted me, Senator Ross? The fact that Y/N had to come seeking safety while being hunted. Trackers crossed my lines, uninvited, went into my house, uninvited and tried to abduct Y/N.” Steve inhaled deeply, dragging your scent to calm his Wolf down before continuing. “Then I am told about unmated wolves being held captive and sold to the highest bidder, against their consent. But none of that matters, right Ross? Leave it to the council to sit on their asses waiting for something more? How about this, Pierce threatened to attack my pack.” Steve shifted back, easing you both back. “I went to him instead, offered to talk first. It didn't end that way. I'm not going to have any of my family threatened, especially when from what I've been told, the council had all this information and more on file. And YOU all were still waiting? For what?” Steve challenged back. 

Ross glared at Tony before clearing his throat. “I don't know where you might have heard that information, but I can assure you Steve that the council has nothing but all Packs welfare in mind. That's why we were made in the first place. 

“Enough!” Steve snapped his teeth behind you. “I see now that the Council was made to try to control the Packs, do away with the need for Alphas. That's what this is about right? I refuse to sign your Accords, and by me not doing so, you have other packs who are also refusing. The matter with Pierce is just showing how fucking sloppy you all are, half ass work, rather watch until its the prime opportune moment to make the Council look good.” Steve snarled out, jostling you a bit in his lap as his arm tightened around you, probably unconsciously at this moment because his anger was starting to roll from him. 

“You're severely misjudging the Council Rogers, and although your opinions of us are not unknown, I say you best be watching what you say. You originally were for it, and we're still doing good for everyone, even if it's behind the scenes. Just because you and your Wolf got all tripped up saving a bitch in distress and breaking the Law.”

You felt Steve surge behind you, but you were quicker this time, your Little Wolf raging enough that your eyes flashed yellow barely containing her now. “You are in the Alphas house Senator, shut your fucking mouth if you cant be civil!” you snapped out, looming over the seated man when you pulled out of Steve’s hold. He went to stand, and you pushed him back to sit on the couch, Judy next to him giving a yelp in surprise, and you snarled at her enough for her to pull back into Ross.  You turned into Tony next, who threw up his hands in surrender. “Stark I like you, you helped Steve and I when we needed it most. But how dare you bring this man to our home.” Your hand waved over Ross. 

“Y/N, I'm sorry… “ Tony started genuinely but you cut him off, turning towards Ross, your anger still on the surface. You felt Steve move up behind you, but he never tried stopping you. 

“And You,” you inhaled deeply and growled as you exhaled. “You left us there to be tortured and abused. You left Pierce out of control, for what? More evidence? Know how many times Pierce tried to sell me off? Do you want the details of how that happens? I can fucking show you for your files. I know you saw his wall of skins. How many you think he did that to while your precious fucking council was waiting? You know how many he skinned alive?” At this Steve rested his hands on your shoulder, angry tears welling up that you wiped away furiously before continuing. “I remember every single one of them begging for mercy, their howls and screams. It will never go away.” All three of them listened while horror crossed their faces. “Steve, listened to the bare minimum of it all and knew it couldn't continue. So don't ever, EVER come here again trying to accuse the Alpha of anything other than saving the rest of our lives.” You took a deep breath, and your glare fell on your last victim. Judy saw you snap towards her, and she shrunk into the cushions, her hands shaking a bit as she dropped her head to look away from you. “And you know that I'm with Alpha, bite or not. All the neck flashing and bare minimum presenting yourself as a possible mate does nothing but make you look like a fool Woman. I'm assuming you think you're going places working for Ross. Sweetheart, find a new Alpha to work for.” You could feel yourself getting closer to losing control and you straightened, your back slamming into Steve just behind you, and his hands tightened on your hips to steady you. 

“I think my Little One said everything she needed to Ross. Leave, get off my pack’s land and don't ever show your face here again, you are not welcome.” Steve said quietly, the tone dripping with anger and a threat. 

“Now Rogers…” Ross tried again to make his point across while Tony and Sharon both went to stand and remove themselves. Steve roared out from behind you, and you hitched your chin up in your resolve. “NOW!” From outside came threatening howls from around the cabin, a clear sign that they were no longer welcome, and Ross snapped to a stand, straightening his jacket. 

“We're leaving, but mark my words Rogers this isn't over. There's the matter of your missing pack mates. Know where your trusted White Wolf is?” Ross snarled, and Steve started to make a move to lunge at Ross when Tony started to push them out. 

“Were going Steve, Y/N, Pepper says hi.” Tony shoved them both out the doors, and from the glance you saw, several wolves were lounging in front of your cabin, Sam being right on the stairs and Sara just below him. Sam remained impassive, just his ears perking at the opening of the door. Sara though rolled her muzzle to flash her fangs at the trio descending the stairs. 

Sam followed them down with Sara pacing right along with him, all three hurried to their parked vehicle as other wolves followed along. Several other packmates flowed silently into the treeline bordering the road that would lead them off the grounds. 

As the vehicle sped, they were followed with howls all along the driveway, going for several miles, keeping track of where the intruders were. You and Steve remained listening, relaxing a little more the further they got. Steve's hold was loose around you and his head dropped to nip kisses against your neck, breathing in against you while you and the Little Wolf listened with perked ears until Sam and Sara both announced with their own howl the threat was gone. You sagged in against his chest, for a moment and tipped your head back to look up at him. 

“I could have ripped his throat out.” You rumbled, and Steve looked down with a slight amused look on his face when he rubbed your stomach under your shirt, feeling yourself clench under his hands. 

“I know Little One, apparently they lit a fire in you.” A hand wrapped around your neck to slip up to your jaw, tilting your head to the side so he could drag teeth along your neck and followed by the soft warmth of his tongue. Your adrenaline was quickly shifting from anger to lust and desire. “Seeing you get protective was fucking hot Little One. I could fuck you so hard right now.” He bared his teeth against your wayward pulse. Everything about Steve screamed danger for others, for you it was exhilarating, the slight squeeze on your neck left you whimpering as you clenched your thighs together. “Get in our bed Little One, now.” He released you and you spun to face him, grasping his face to lick over his lips and biting that bottom one with a tug while his hand snapped sharply across your ass to send you on your way inside. 

Steve followed you in and watched you disappear down the hallway before he turned to lock the front door. Gritting his teeth as he leaned his forehead, feeling the Wolf shift through him with hunger for you, he was already rock hard when you lit right into Ross, Tony and Judy. Now the need to claim you was overriding all his other desires for you. Snapping back from the door, he stalked down the hallway, his nose lifted to follow your scent. Which built a hunger in his lower gut. 

He was raging hard, everything said that you ached, wet heat for him to get lost in. And when he stopped in the doorway, he saw you kneeling in the middle of the bed, arching yourself while your hands traveled to your back to unclasp your bra. Steve didn't even give you a chance. 

He couldn't help it, he was on you, his hands pulling you in closer to the edge, and a snap of his fingers against your back and sliding his hand around your ribs, he pulled the bra off your front to sharply inhale, catching the sight of you blinking up at him with those wide eyes shimmering back and forth between you and the Little Wolf. Hands moving to cup your breasts, thumbs flickering over the round pebbled tips while descending to claim your mouth, riding you down till you were smothered underneath him on the bed, caging you effectively underneath him. “Fuck you drive me wild Little One.” 

You could feel his teeth sink into your shoulder to keep you still and make you hiss out “Isn’t that my job?” which made Steve bite just a bit harder and make you growl while arching just a bit. Your hands fisted in the soft cotton of his tee and started to shred it till you could pull it away while his hands had your hips pinned in place, slotting a knee in between your spread thighs to grind the hard muscle into your cunt, which had your jolting underneath him. 

Once you got rid of his shirt, yanking the last of what was left over his head that he had to lift himself away from where he was marking you, you rubbed your aching cunt against his thigh again, dragging your nails down his muscled back while arching underneath him, seeking out that friction of his body against yours. 

Steve’s hand snaked once more around your neck, slamming you back into the pillows so he could look down at you, panting as inhaling you wasn't enough, he wanted to taste you, breath you in and get lost in the intoxication that made up you. “Flip over, to your knees Little One.” Leaning over you and brushing his lips against yours while you gave kitten licks to his lips, opening to let his tongue fill your mouth in a hungry kiss for one another. Steve couldn't contain the snarl of need erupting from him, the twitch of his cock constrained in tight jeans. Your nails dug into his back, dragging down while digging in, maring the spanse of his back in deep red welts. You gasped out when he moved down to suck his mark on your neck. “Steve, you gotta let me move.” you chuckled, pointing out the obvious. Steve had you effectively captured underneath him. 

The Alpha gave a warning nip to your pulse before pulling away, smirking down at you. “Sassy Little Wolf.” His palms slapped against your ass cheeks, digging his fingers in and pushing you off his knee. “One more time, flip over and let me see just how wet and needy you are Little One.”  Steve commanded, and pulled back while you twisted to your stomach, his hands sliding along your sides, and grasping your layers remaining to jerk them down over your ass and off your legs. 

Finishing with unbuckling his belt and sliding pants down while your ass swung back and forth to get yourself in position for your Alpha, breathing out deeply while dropping your head to the mattress. You could hear his hungry groan as he moved in behind you, his hands cupping the soft globes, spreading them so nothing was possibly hidden from him. You sighed feeling the cool air brush against your heated swollen cunt, and snuck a peek over your shoulder to see Steve biting on his lip, his eyes hungry while his cock pressed against the lower part of his stomach, dripping from his own desires. A finger trailed along your weeping cunt, sliding so easily into your channel, even when you tightened around him, dropping your head against the mattress once more with a pleading whimper. “Alpha please.” 

Steve stroked your fluttering and clutching walls, his finger slick with your want, and he easily stretched you open with another finger. His other hand smoothed up your back, and grasped the back of your neck, long fingers grasping around the column and dragging you up so that you were leaning on your elbow, your head tipped back to look up. 

“So pretty for me my Little One, taking my fingers so good.” He gave a stroke against the soft spongy spot that made you clench around him, breathing in deeply as he dropped his forehead against the center of your back, breathing out to keep himself under control as his muscles rippled under taunt skin. You started whimpering and mewling whenever his calloused fingertips sunk back into you, snapping your back while pushing back to meet his movements. “Your Alpha is going to fill you up, leave you dripping with my cum so everyone knows who you belong to.” 

Fuck you wanted that, wanted him so hard and deep in you that you would ache moving the next day, that his claim would be all over your skin, bruises from his mouth, and his seed rubbed in till it was all you could scent, leaving you dripping with need. “Please Alpha, make me yours.” you panted, and started clenching around his fingers, the coils in your belly threatening to snap. Twisting your head to muffle into the mattress, you started crying out and curling your toes while Steve started to run his tongue up your back till his chest was draped over your back, nuzzling the back of your neck with soft growls while pressing his words into your soft skin with kisses and sharp nips. 

“Come on my fingers and I will give it to you.” tilting his head and sinking his teeth in enough to hold you still while you let go, his fingers dragging out your orgasm until you wanted to sink into the bed in bliss. “Nu uh uh, Little One.” Steve removed his fingers from your clenching core to hold your hip up, pushing up to take the weight off your back. “Im not done with you yet.” He assured you while you dragged in deep breaths and gave a nod. “That's my good girl, my perfect Little One.” Grasping his base, he dragged his swollen weeping cocks head through your swollen folds, tapping against your clit to make you jolt while he pressed against your entrance. Tight as you were, when he started to press into you, he was able to slide right in, burying himself to the hilt, and you flexed around him with your own groan underneath him, biting against a pillow to muffle yourself. Steve's hand moved to press against your stomach, feeling himself thrust into you, a jolt of his hips rocking you. 

“Fuck Little One.” He growled and you pushed to your elbows, flexing yourself around him. A few shallow strokes went faster and harder, his hands holding your hips in place to keep him from driving you into the mattress. Steve felt so heavy and full in you and around you, it was taking your willpower to keep from falling apart feel each demanding thrust into you, but you met him back, your hands digging into the sheets and your head tipped back to get lost in the sensation of Steve claiming your body, every hitting thrust into your cunt breaking down those walls of doubt just a bit more. There wasn't going to be anyone you could want like this, except for Steve. Even now in the midst of taking you as his, he was still taking care of you, above you was him grunting out praises in how good you were to him, a hand dipped in between your legs, and rolled your clit to bring you maximum pleasure. 

In the midst of this, the need to belong to him flooded you. More then the endorphins sex brought, but genuine resolve that you were ready for it, all that belonging to the Alpha would bring. You couldn't imagine not being here with Steve, and not just these moments, but all of them. The good and bad, you would remain at his side should he want you, and you wanted his immense strength to lean on as well. You finally managed to gasp out from the pleasured haze “Steve, Do it… Claim me, make me yours.” 

Steve faltered over you, his hand flexing on your hips when he thought he heard you tell him to give you the bite, to officially claim you as his own. He clenched his jaw to keep from sinking a hold into you. It was a struggle for a second to keep the Alpha from taking over, he collapsed over you, pressing you down into the mattress, and hissing against your shoulder. “Little One, you want the bite?” His tongue dragged over your ear while you whimpered underneath him, nodding while twisting your head to the side to see him. 

“I'm ready Steve, I know Im yours.” You whispered, Steve’s gaze scanned you, from your swollen kissed lips from earlier to fluttering eyelids, but your eyes kept contact with his, nodding again to affirm that is what you wanted with him. Pushing up to his hands, he placed a deep kiss to the crook of your neck with a deep inhale against you, committing your scent of sweet honeysuckle and arousal to memory. A scent he would never get tired of. Pulling back further he eased his aching cock from you, leaving you lifting your head in question, a slight panic in your voice that he was leaving you. “Steve-” 

“It's okay, Little One, turn around. I want us to do this together.” His hands smoothed over your hips, and along the scars on your back till his hands folded over your shoulders and eased you back to kneel, your back pressing against your chest. “I got you Little One.” He nuzzled against your neck where he always favored, ever since he was first with you. Flicks of his tongue and press of his lips made your racing heart start to ease. 

Reaching behind you to press your fingers through his hair at the back of his head and tug on it to lift him from your neck. You hum gently while easing around to face Steve and cup his face in your hands to crash your lips to his, gliding tongues and teeth. You both tilted into the kiss to deepen it while Steve rode you to your back, his hands planted on each side of your head and his mouth traveled to the corner of your mouth to your jawline, a nudge of his nose had you tilting your head to the side so he could drag his tongue over your pulse and leaving his scent on you. “You sure this is what you want Little One?” He growled, and you squirm underneath him to wrap your legs around his waist with a nod. 

“I- We have never been more sure of anything before Steve.” you whispered and when he lifted his head to meet your eyes, you tilted your nose up to bump against his, your fingers remaining tangled in his hair. “I love you and want everyone to know it.” Your fingers slid down his neck and rubbed against his shoulders before gliding along his biceps. 

“I love you to Little One.” he shifted to one arm to grasp your hand, weaving his fingers with yours, then to the other with the same action. Steve eased himself forward to slide back into you, feeling you gasp and arch underneath him feeling him thick and full inside of you, the slow roll of his hips, dragging him back and forth. “Fuck Alpha…” You buried your face in against his arm as you rolled back to meet him. “What should I expect?” you whimper, flexing your fingers against his. 

Steve nipped lightly against your neck and you tipped your head back for him. He growled softly while lapping at your skin, rolling once more to fill you, press deeper to connect you two. “A complete connection Little One, we will feel one another with strong emotions even when we're apart.” another nip, and another sigh as your nerves flared with anticipation. “We won't have to be shifted for our wolves to be together.” Another promising nip and ghosting of lips against the hollow of your neck, sucking a mark there as he sped up his hips, grunting as he held back the desire to cum inside of you at that moment. “Are you ready for that Little One?” Steve asked, not willing to go through with it if you were having second thoughts. 

You were overwhelmed with love for the man claiming you, and you tightened around him, drawing him in closer. With his barely held control, it made him growl with his next thrust. “Mark me Steve Rogers.” A flash of your neck made his eyes flare yellow in the moment, and he dropped to scent against your neck. 

When he found the spot he wanted, one that was his favorite place to bury his face into because it was soft and warm, everything you were in his life, his tongue soothed over it, and a soft growl to prepare you rolled through his chest before his teeth laid claim, breaking through your skin. You immediately arched into him, curling yourself around his body with a pleasured scream. It left your Little Wolf howling while you came from the intense pleasure, and his body surged forward to keep your orgasm rolling through you in waves. It felt like fire and ice burned from your clenching core, and laced your body with licks of contrast, making you wither and hold onto Steve more. You sought out Steve's firmness to keep from losing yourself, and your head buried in against his shoulder, breaking a pleasured sob into the muscle. His hand broke from yours and cupped the back of your head, each surge rocking you into your mate. The urge to return the bite overcame you, and on his shoulder you laid your own mark, which sent Steve spiraling over the edge. His hips started to stutter to a stop while he buried his seed into you, groaning as he sunk over you. 

The explosion in your mind was another pleasure all its own, leaving you seeing spots in your vision even when you had your eyes screwed shut and your hand not pinned down with his hand, was wrapped around Steve’s side, clutching yourself to him till there wasn't any space between both of your sex blissed bodies. 

Your Little Wolf was tentative in the new connection you and Steve shared, lowering to her belly waiting to see if the Alpha would come, and sure enough the silver Alpha nudged against her, the Little Wolf rolling and nipping under his chin while rubbing against him with excited whines and yips. 

You could feel him, not in the same way you felt your own Little Wolf, but the sensation was thrilling. Steve was the first to let go, gentle with a rub of his hand along your hip and a soothing caress of his tongue against your broken skin to clean off the blood the bite brought. He groaned at the warm iron taste. You unclench your jaw and let go as well, placing a kiss against the mark while sliding your hand up and down his back gently which was still rippling under your fingertips, tracing the marks you left on him gently. “I can feel your wolf Steve.” you whisper in his ear, and Steve lifted his chest off yours, tucking himself up on his elbows, his hands cupping your face, and thumbs gliding over your cheeks, smiling down at you. 

“I feel her to Y/N, she's as much a part of me as he is of you.” Tipping his head to catch your lips, he circled an arm around your waist while pulling up, bringing you with him till you were straddled against his lap while wrapping your arms around his neck to stay in place. Steve couldn't stop his hands from gliding over your curves, the smooth skin along your lower back and over the swell of your hips and down along your thighs. You tentatively touch your neck, feeling the raised heated skin from where Steve bit you, your fingertips tracing the indents where his teeth sunk in. “Do you want to go see it YN?” Steve asked as he grasped your hips, ready to ease you off him now that he was no longer knotted in you, and was safe for you to move. 

“Yea, I want to see it, this is the first bite that was my choice, I want to admire it.” You gave a shy grin, and Steve felt a burst of satisfaction in his chest. You were so happy in this moment, and he was effectively feeling it as well. Easing you off his lap and you tumbled out of the bed, to approach the dresser mirror, lifting your hair back to see where Steve claimed you as his. 

In the mirror, Steve could see your face break into a smile, placing your palm over it. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, and you twisted on your toes to approach him. Spreading his thighs for you to step through, he let his hands slide up the back of your thighs while your own fingers slid through his hair and down till your palms pressed against the underside of his jaw, tilting his face to look up at you. “Thank you for choosing me Alpha.” 

Steve's fingers dug into the back of your thighs. “I would choose you again and again my Omega.” for the first time, he labeled you as his other half, the omega wolf to his alpha wolf. In the connection, you both could hear your wolves singing your bonding song. 

“Oh it's going excellent, the asset was well worth the wait.” Brock smirked into the phone as he looked in the large cell used to contain their weapon. “Hold on, I will show you how efficient he is.” Turning the phone around, he tilted the phone so the camera could face into the cell, and he barked out an order. “Go get that Stark man… the one they call Happy. Let the Winter Wolf have some fun with him.” Quickly the hydra agent he ordered went to collect their victim while Brock continued to speak into the phone. “It took a while to break him in but once we did, we unleashed a killer. I had no idea he even had it in him, and makes me wonder now if Rogers has that in him as well. They were trained in the same unit.” Brock heard the scuffle of footsteps behind him, and he swung open the cell door to shove Happy inside, sending him spiraling against the cement floor. With a clang, the door slammed shut and Happy pushed himself off the dirty ground, looking for any way to get out. 

“Rumlow, you know this is foolish, Tony will never let this go.” he grunted as he turned towards the bars. Rumlow crossed his arms over his chest, and smirked coldly. 

“You think Stark scares me any? Bigger picture Happy. Tony is nothing, an Alpha coming to the end of his time. Along with all the other packs across the country. That council shit they all live by will be brought down.” 

“Your fucking crazy Brock, I always knew it.” Happy growled softly, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck bristle. “Steve was right to take over your Pack.” 

Brock gave a laugh, banging on the bars to make Happy jump. “Rogers, don't worry I have something just for him. Right now your time is up.” He backed up a bit and re-directed the camera. “Let the asset out.” 

There was a clank behind Happy, and he spun around, reaching up to tug at the collar preventing him being able to shift. Fear flooded him with a sour bitter taste in his mouth, cause he could sense the danger coming for him, still hidden in the shadows. Happy’s Wolf was chained, but his fear made him struggle against the magic binding him with panicked whimpers, while Happy tried his best to see where the attack would come from. A loud snarl echoed from the room and Happy backed into a corner, trying to get as far away as possible now, giving his own warning to stay back. “Get back!” he panted in panic, still now knowing exactly where the beast would be coming from. The large White Wolf padded out, his yellow eyes honed in on Happy while licking his jaws with a bright pink roll of his tongue. “Bucky, fuck we know each other.” Happy tried pleading. Brock behind him burst into a laugh, remarking. “That isn't Bucky, not anymore.” The White Wolf flickered his ears back and forth, studying the quivering man before him and Brock’s almost bored tone filled the silence. “Ubiystvo” Kill. 

It all happened so fast, just enough time for Happy to throw up his hands to try to block his throat, and a streak of white became a mauling set of jaws and rage filled snarls rose over Happy's screams while it tore into him, teeth cutting into flesh and snapping through bones. Within seconds the White Wolf got to his throat and gave a whiplashing shake of his victim, crashing his body against the bars, Happy went limp and dropped to the ground as blood flooded pristine white fur, and red seeped to pool around the wolf’s paws. Brock couldn't help the grin plastered on his face, the wolf before him waited for directions. “You can go back now. Get!” and with that, the White Wolf turned and retreated back to where he came from.

Someone spoke on the phone, and Brock brought it back up to his ear. 

“Oh yes, he will be in the field any day now. We just have to affirm his trigger words and Soldat will be ready for use.”  

It was several days after Steve had given you the bite, your fingers unconsciously slipped along the fresh healing mark while you sat outside around the fire with other members of the pack later in the evening. The bite had ended up sending you into a heat which Steve kept you sated till finally you both came up for air days later, deciding that it was best to let the rest of the pack know you two were actually still alive. Sara gave a knowing grin before she brought her beer bottle to her mouth to drink and once you settled down next to her, she handed one over to you. “Welcome to the Pack, officially now Y/N.” She said and laughed softly while throwing her arm around your shoulder when you sputtered on your beer bottle, glaring at her. Your eyes glanced across the fire at Steve while he wandered around, catching up on what's been going on since the two of you had been locked up in the cabin together. 

“Thanks Sara, it was time. I know this is home, and I don’t have any desire to be anywhere else.” You took another swig while Steve from across the large bonfire seemed to catch a scent, tilting his head while talking to some of the logging crew. His eyes roved over the crowd till they fell on you through the flames crackling between them, and Steve smiled to himself before he turned back to his packmates. 

“I will see you all up there in the morning, first thing.” he excused himself from the small group and wandered slowly around the fire, talking to a few others till he reached You and Sara. 

“Ladies…” He greeted on the sly, pulling you up out of the chair and falling into it to pull you in his lap. 

“Alpha, been a while.” Sara said slyly while Sam came up behind her, plucking her beer bottle from her hand and taking a swig from it. 

“Now Baby, be nice. This is still the honeymoon stage.” Sam teased and Steve tightened his hold a bit, shaking his head at your friends. 

“Weren't you just telling me a couple days ago that it just gets better?” Steve asked, and Sara tilted her head back to look up at Sam. 

“Aww, you really say that? Someones getting lucky later.” Sara sprang up and wrapped her arm around Sam's neck, nipping at his chin playfully. Steve turned his attention back to you, his chin brushing along your neck where he left his mark, pride swelling up that now everyone could see you were officially his. He was content, feeling your Little Wolf so close to the Alpha in this new bond. You purred softly feeling the brush of his beard and tilted your head with your eyes closed, enjoying the sensation he was making along your skin. 

Your fingers danced up his arm, over his shoulder and cupped the back of his neck, nuzzling back into the crook, cuddling up against him. You could feel your Little Wolf sigh in content in this moment, her muzzle stretched over the Alphas back. Her ears flickered back and forth feeling you stir in your mind. 

<You know we’re happy right, this is what it feels like.>

You snicker against Steve's neck listening to her. I know what it feels like. 

<I just wanted to be sure, because Im not letting this go anytime soon.> She curled up closer to her Alpha, who lifted his head to check on her before settling back down. 

Neither am I.

“What are you and the Little Wolf discussing?” Steve asked against your ear, and you lifted your head to smile at him. 

“About how happy we are Alpha.” you cupped his face and nipped at his lips, letting your forehead press against his. “That this was the best choice I’ve ever made for myself.” 

His hands were heavy when they pressed against the small of your back, making you arch into him, the fire crackling before you, the pack all around you… Steve had to admit, he was pretty fucking happy to.

The End 🐺

[kittydripuwu]

Hello, I'm the anon that requested the Dazai being kidnapped scenario and I didn't see it on your pinned post anymore. May I ask what happened to it / if I did anything wrong?

hi sorry omg, i posted it earlier but tumblr was acting up and i had to take it down and forgot to repost it! here u go :>

req - Can I request some angst to fluff where Dazai purposefully puts himself in a dangerous position and everyone thinks that he's dead so a usually stoic reader goes on a rampage in their grief on the organization that supposedly killed him during an agency raid but then finds out that he's alive? And reader hasn't confessed their feelings yet?

never again | dazai x reader

words - 1951

warnings - swearing, angst

genre - angst/fluff?

note - this is so poorly written im sorry my ideas were ALL over the place :’)

the long period of time in which the agency had upheld peace and quiet with all of the known criminal organizations in yokohama, had come to an end. the port mafia and the agency had started to notice odd and quite brutal murders around the city. at first, the agency thought it was the mafia going on a killing rampage, only to notice the method used to assasinate was quite different from the mafia's. whoever it was, they killed brutally, leaving an X cut into their victims throats. they were a bloodthirsty bunch and all they were here for was to kill and take over any other gifted organizations.

the agency had already dealt with a few attacks, but none with other ability users making it easy to fight them. everyone from this unknown organization seemed to dress in all black and wear sunglasses to cover their mysterious identities. when taken hostage, they wouldnt speak, no matter what was done to them, it was an impossible case.

you had been calm throughout everything the agency went through in the last few weeks, knowing that you and your fellow agency members knew how to fight well and deal with these kinds of situations. it was all peaceful and quiet that day when you were sitting in the office doing some work until, the agency building was yet again attacked. an ability user with an inferno ability, able to burn anything down to ash. they did not seem to seek destruction of the city but rather, the people in it. it was a difficult fight but you and your colleauges were able to get through it as always.

after this, the president of the armed detective agency declared it a case to find out more and stop this organization, but urged everyone to do it at a distance.

"whatever you do, do not go near anybody from this unknown group of people. they seem to seek bloodthirst, and will kill everyone in their path" he said during a meeting that occured that same day. you knew this wasn't going to be easy but you were going to try to do as much as you can to help.

it was getting pretty late and you had just finally finished some work, standing up and heading out the door to head home. you walked the streets cautiously, knowing that at this point in time, the city wasn't particularly safe. you ended up getting home with no troubles, and instanly falling asleep after a long and tiring day. meanwhile, there was still one person in the agency who was awake during the long hours of the night, and that was dazai osamu. despite what he was told by the president, he had his own plans for how he was going to find out information. he knew this could easily get him killed and he knew this was dangerous but it was the only way he could think of.

dazai's plan didn't seem all that bad to him, he was simply going to find one of them roaming the streets, disarm them and question them. he was aimlessly roaming the streets at night in search of one of the people dressed in black, with nothing on him but a loaded gun. he didn't really know why he chose such a dangerous plan, he knew there was a high chance that he could be killed but all of that didn't matter to him now. he, who had been concealing his emotions for too long, feeling empty and inhuman on this planet, felt somewhat at peace when coming this close to death. he kept trying to tell himself that if he died helping the agency, helping you, maybe everything would have been worth it after all, maybe the pain and suffering was worth something, maybe it would mean that he was finally a good person.

but no, none of these invasive thoughts were true, for when he ran into one of the unknown men dressed in black, he had broken a promise he made long ago to a dear friend.

he stood above the man who was on the ground now, disarmed. this man was unlike the others, he spoke. maybe it was dazai's forceful interrogation methods, or maybe it was just another man surrendering. he told dazai about the organization's intentions, where their base was and all about their powerful ability users. he told him that the only way to get rid of them, was to kill them all. they were a group of soulless men, wanting nothing more but to kill and take over yokohama.

"kill me" he pleaded after speaking to him about the organization.

"please kill me"

"why do you wish to die?" dazai asked him.

"there is no place for me in this world" he said simply.

this sparked something in dazai, he understood suffering very well and he could tell by this man's voice that he was in pain, and like dazai, he desired nothing more but to get a taste of sweet death.

"i'm sorry oda" he whispered to himself before shooting the man a few times.

after this, he continued to wander the empty streets, realising that the only way to fight them was going against agency rules. but he thought if he was able to do this on his own, maybe he could keep you and everyone at the agency, safe. he managed to reach the base of the place, and seeing no one around to gaurd it, he simply walked in. he managed to sneak through to what looked like a computer room. there were plenty of computers and different kinds of technology, but none of that mattered when he saw a usb on one of the desks in the room. he was quick to slip it into his pocket right before three men appeared in the doorway.

there was something different about these men, they didn't instantly shoot, but rather took him as a hostage. these men spoke aswell, they told him that they wouldn't kill him yet, but rather wanted to find out more about the other organizations in yokohama. they said they had questioned multiple people already, who gave them nothing of use and were brutally murdered. he was handcuffed and left to sit in this room until dawn.

you woke up feeling pretty sore and tired from all the events of the day before. after getting ready, you took your regular route to the agency with caution, ready to attack if need be. when you arrived at the office, you were informed that dazai never came back to the agency dorm that night, and that he had gone missing. normally, everyone including you would treat this as just dazai being dazai, but with the current state of the city, everyone began to panic. there was a meeting to discuss the next plan of action after multiple phone calls to him, resulting in no reply.

"dazai would never do this in such a situation"

"he wouldn't disrespect the presidents order's like this"

"not in a situation like this for sure"

"i agree, he may be reckless but not so much to go this far"

you sat through the meeting, mind filled with worry as you listened to what everyone was saying. you've always gotten along very well with dazai, and always found him to be a very interesting person. you hated to admit it but, you liked him, alot. you were too shy to confess to him for the longest time but you had promised yourself to finally do it after all of this was finally over.

"could he be dead?"

"ranpo help us out here"

"no can do, all i know is that he's most likely at thier base"

after being so caught up in your own thoughts, this managed to snap you back into reality. dazai osamu. dazai osamu was dead? no, you tried to tell yourself that you shouldn't even consider that but the thought kept coming back to haunt you.

"everyone search for him" said the president as he dismissed everyone.

you and your fellow agency memebers spent the day looking for dazai. you looked in all the spots you knew he could be, but he was nowhere to be found, and his phone going straight to voicemail when called.

if he didn't show up the next morning, everyone would presume him as dead. you couldn't sleep that night, your thoughts draining you with worry and sorrow.

the next morning, dazai was still gone. everyone was worried and discussing what to do, when you simply stormed out of the meeting room, running out of the building.

"i'll kill them all i swear i'll kill every last one of them" you muttered to yourself as you ran down the streets, looking out for anyone who was wearing black. your thoughts were now clouded with fear, worry and rage as you desperatley searched the streets for someone to give you information. no one seemed to reveal anything, no one spoke, not a single one of them. you had no choice but to hurt them and even kill a few in order to get something. one of them managed to croak out an adress as you repeatedly kicked them while holding a gun to their head. luckily, you hadn't encountered any ability users, only weak men who were too easy to disarm.

"what did you say?" you asked the man.

"o-our base" he replied, in between coughs.

within a minute, you were out of the alleyway, back on the street and heading to the given address. you swore to yourself that you would make sure anyone who hurt dazai would be dead.

lost in your thoughts, you weren't paying attention to where you were going when you bumped into someone. you looked up, only to see a familiar face.

"y/n?"

you began to cry. dazai was standing right infront of you, looking down at you in confusion.

"what the fuck is wrong with you" you said between sobs, throwing your arms around him.

"what??" he replied, hugging you back.

"everyone thought you were dead" you said as you cried into his shoulder.

"i was only gone for 2 days" he replied, rubbing your back gently to calm you down.

"where the fuck were you?" you asked after a few minutes of silence, pulling out of the hug.

"i got myself caught by the organization to find out information"

"why would you do that"

"because that was the only way" he replied, with no emotion in his voice.

"please don't ever do that to me again" you said as you looked down while you two began to walk back to the agency.

dazai knew how you felt about him, despite the fact that you haven't confessed. he felt the same way but he wasn't going to tell you that, he was going to wait for you to do it.

he stopped in his tracks suddeny and turned you around, pulling you into his arms, and hugging you tightly.

"never again" he said, as you gladly accepted the hug.

he wanted to make sure you knew that he cared about you. he wasn't very expressive of it, but he told himself he would do anything to protect you and the agency, no matter what it took.

you two then returned to the agency, where everyone began to yell at dazai but also praise him for the information he was able to get. they knew exactly how many of them there were, the abilities they had, and how to properly deal with them. thanks to him, the agency was once again able to save the city.

[kimsnnn]

Part 1

Disclaimer: This post is in favor of my ship, Elriel. No hate, just an opinion. This is what makes sense to me. If this isn't your cup of tea, and it came up on your feed, no worries just skip please. 

If you look at it this way:

If the series were to officially end at ACOWAR then that would mean that there would be no need to add any more books due to the majority of the plot being resolved. If there were slight questions or plot holes that were left open, we as readers can basically create our own conclusion based of where these characters and their stories were left off at. That’s the beauty of being a reader, being able to use our imagination to extend the stories based on canon information to infer or even speculate what happened to those beloved characters of ours.

If its easy to answer these questions, fill these plot holes and resolve any issues within that story, then there would be no need for any additional books, and lets say there were questions that were pressing but not complicated to answer, a simple extra book could be added to resolve that like ACOFAS. ACOFAS could’ve concluded everything. She could’ve also showed Feyre or whoever freeing Vassa and then created a whole spin off on Vassa and her adventures including the plot of her defeating her captor Koschei while also dealing with the queens and humans basically introducing us to a whole new world and continent with new fae/fae territories (like chaol introduced in his book from ToG). Her LI would most likely be Jurian because Lucien would have ended up with Elain which we know because she resolved that in ACOFAS.

BUT

That’s not at all what happened. Things were not answered/resolved during ACOFAS.

The author which in this case is SJM knew that whatever obvious inferences/speculation we the fandom would have is not the accurate ending she had for these characters. So she decided to introduce far more books into the series as standalones but, still part of the overarching plot to truly get the full scope of what she has in store for these characters. Why make additional books based on the obvious ?  She’s a writer, she knows the importance of creating mystery or writing plot twists that we either didn’t or decided not to realize or even accept. So ACOFAS and even ACOWAR wasn’t there to answer last minute questions, to show us that our favorite ships did end up together, no it was there to be used to set up future stories like SJM said and be as close as can be as opposite of obvious.

At the End of ACOWAR we have :

Nesta

-THAT Nessian moment 🥰  (& Nessian moments in general in ACOWAR)

We can infer based on where those characters were left off that :

-They would end up together eventually.  I mean come on, Cass’s line *chef’s kiss*.

BUT what people forget is that was also her breaking point (trauma) 

-We didn’t know how her trauma would affect her, her life and loved ones, & how she’d heal Or what were even her powers. These questions were built up throughout all of ACOWAR

So what did SJM do?

-She wrote the answers to those questions in ACOSF while also resolving questions about Nessian’s status especially since Nesta first had to start healing to let herself be loved.

The evidence ? The set up to gain support to find these answers ? Its in ACOFAS

-Nesta’s drinking, isolation, rage, fear, loneliness and self hate

-Nesta’s avoidance of her sisters, the IC and Cassian

-Cassian’s persistence, confusion. Feeling helpless.

Same thing can be seen for Elain

At the end of ACOWAR

Elain

-Civilness between E and L.  She seems more at peach and want to plan gardens/rebuild

We can infer

-Elain talked to Lucien so she forgave him or is on track to forgive him. From this we can assume the possibility of Elucien being endgame.

Elain also must be healed because she smiled and wants to help rebuild. So that all equals acceptance of her powers (on occasionally seeing things and that it, that’s her power), her new life and bond

BUT what we forget is the iconic Elriel moments (Hybern camp & truth teller connection), Elain’s world/future going up in flames, the consequences/trauma of having been gifted these powers

-We don’t know the full scope of her powers, why the cauldron adores her, how she feels, why were we given blooming moments between Elriel 

So again what will SJM probably do?

-Set Elriel to be endgame. Cause civility/friendship/forgiveness/CLOSURE between Elain and Lucien. Get In depth about her powers, her trauma and how it has affected the life she thought she would have. Have her come into her role in the NC and have self growth. 

The evidence? Its in ACOFAS & ACOSF

-Elain’s anger and desperation to have a choice, to have her own agency

-Elain’s avoidance, tolerance, discomfort of Lucien ( she wilts and regresses)

-Elain’s push to contribute more and firmly declare she’s a member of the NC

-Elriel’s tension & build up ( glances, smiles, blushing, gifts, humor, awareness, longing, protectiveness, attraction, actively trying to distract themselves, etc I could go on and on)

-Confirmation of Elain’s power still existing. Her whereabouts: where is Elain when the IC are facing obstacles?

-Her visions still to happen. The fourth dead trove needs to be found: it makes sense that it would be found by Elain (& Az) ( the crown: Braiylln, the harp & mask: Nesta, the fourth trove: Elain)

*If there are 3 cauldron made and Braiylln found one (& is now dead), Nesta found 2 but couldn't get a good read of the fourth, that means it'll be up to Elain & Azriel because they are basically the only two in the IC who closely work with shadows and even mist. Maybe Nuala and Cerridwen would also join in searching which id love.

Now let’s ignore the evidence.

From that moment at the end of ACOWAR again: 1) we see Elain who seems better and 2)we have Elain and Lucien who seem to be in a civil place 

So we assume she’s healed or on track, and her relationship with Lucien is looking up. So why would SJM write a whole standalone on the obvious?

If she’s healed and okay, if she and Lucien will be a sailing ship why be so secretive and unclear on Elain’s story, on who she ends up with?

Nessian was so clear, there was no REAL doubt that they would not end up together despite the obstacles between them, two of them being her rage and trauma. But Nessian would be and are endgame period. All the other “prospects” were just for angst, development and humor. Not real threats.

She wrote Nesta’s story because the worry and question wasn’t on Nessian’s validity, she established their validity and their romance when Nesta prepared to die with Cassian, when Cassian promised to find more time with her, when Nesta called for Cassian, when Nesta Wass worried for Cassian, when Nesta would constantly pay attention to him without realizing it (his wings) when Cassian ran after her during solstice, when Cassian bought her a gift etc. The worry and questions were ALWAYS on and about Nesta’s role, powers, and trauma because they were the influencing factor that affected everyone’s future, Nesta’s life/health and Nessian’s ability to finally able to come together.

If Elucien were endgame we as a fandom would know without a doubt that they are. There would be many more moments of ooh’s and hmmm’s and less mystery and confusion on their validity. There would be far more angst and these characters would have be seen more often together (seeking each other out, but Elain never does) or at least have them have more than one scene of mutual civilness where they dont talk awkwardly, and have a real conversation not one that seems forced, especially by Feyre. Even with the obstacles between them and their distance (because of the obvious elephant in the room) we should have scenes that showcases clear interest between them but we don’t. There is only one true scene where we have that and its at the end of ACOWAR, Im not blind i could see where people might interpret it as Elucien confirmation and who knows maybe I'm wrong and it is but, I read that differently. That to me was confirmation that a friendship between them is possible. Something completely platonic but just as sweet in a different way. That scene to me wasn’t charged it was not even a slow burn or even a spark it was healing and the foreshadowing of a possible friendship.

ALSO:

*Possible ToG spoiler below*

I don’t think it’s too far fetched to assume that Vassien is a thing. And in all honestly I also don’t think its too far fetched to have Lucien (& Vassa) have their own book like Chaol (& Yrene) did. Chaol was an important/original main character from the very beginning of the series who ended up doing grave mistakes. He found himself lost in life to later finding himself gaining a new purpose outlook & perspective when he left the continent to only meet his new LI Yrene freaking Towers who SERIOUSLY changed the whole game ( I freaking love her) and was extremely valuable to winning that war. This is so similar to Lucien’s story so far and Vassa (the firebird) who I expect to resemble Yrene in value and vitalness  BUT it is important to state that Lucien is nothing like Chaol and is far more SUPERIOR. So No this is not me saying Lucien is like Chaol. This is just me seeing the resemblance in their journeys so far, which might be due to SJM possibly reusing the same template on purpose.

Part 2

[poptod]

Pull the Stars Out of the Sky (And Gift Them to Me), pt. 11, (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: Thunder for the God.

Notes: this is it! the final chapter. I wanna say thank you to a few people cause I rarely ever respond to comments directly, mostly cause i never know what to say, but @diasimar, @edteche2, @moon-stars-soul, @crewman-penelope, @hah0106, thank you so fuckin much for your comments!! it really kept me going while i was working and really motivated me. im rly worried this last chapter is gonna disappoint but i gotta post it at some point! WC: 1.7k

+

A feast was held. Of course it was––the only way Egyptians knew how to celebrate was with plenty of food, plenty of booze, and lots of sex. Already people wrote songs of your exploits, performing them as they waited for you and Ahk to appear in the courtroom now filled to the brim with the people of Memphis. Clashing drums and lutes accompanied by harps and singing voices all came from behind the walls, but the room Ahk prepared himself in remained mostly quiet, occupied only by you and himself. Piye was busy tending to the citizens with the help of Gyasi, who offered his services in helping the now-blind vizier.

"I never thought to see this day," Ahk said softly, staring at his reflection in the mirror. His outfit, which had taken about an hour to get on (plus makeup), left him the striking image of the Pharaoh you had first met––drowned in gold, in gemstones, reeking of rich, spoiled tastes.

"What, that you'd be attending a party in your own honor?" You asked with a chuckle.

"No," he said, turning to you, "I didn't think I'd see you willingly stand beside me."

"I didn't either. I hated you."

"Rightfully so," he mumbled. "I'm sorry, again, for how I treated you."

"You could've been a lot nicer while kidnapping me."

"I know. But you're happy now... right?"

"Yes," you said, grinning. "What would you do if I wasn't?"

"Abandon everything," he said with a careless shrug. "Run away with you. Leave it all behind."

"Even with a feast outside those doors?" You asked as you stepped closer. He took advantage of that, pulling you in by your waist and smiling when your chests met.

"Well, I might have to go to that first. But afterwards, I would go anywhere for you. Do anything. You are mine, now," he said, growing soft as his lips brushed against your temple, "and I have fought long to prove it."

"I think you belong to me more than I belong to you," you chuckled.

"Perhaps you're right," he said, swaying with you to the muted tunes of harpstrings. "I don't mind either way as long as you love me."

"I do," you mumbled.

"Say it," he said, parting from you to look you in the eye. His hand came up to your face, stroking the soft skin of your cheek as he gazed into you, searching for words he had longed for all this time. "Please."

"I love you, Ahk."

There he went again––tears down his face, dripping into and caught by the smile that spread across his rosy lips. He leant in to kiss you, still wet with those salty tears, but you happily returned his affections.

Until his kiss grew deep, devolving into him biting at your neck again, pressing himself against your body till your back inevitably hit a wall. He sandwiched you there, running his hands from your chest to your hips and back up to your face.

"Now then, your people wait for you. Don't disappoint them by not showing up," you warned him, but there was little resolve in your tone, already torn up by the blush pervading your cheeks.

"I'll be quick," he muttered against your skin, followed by a laugh when you groaned.

"But you can also do this later, when you can take your time," you said, but couldn't stop yourself from smiling even as you tried to push him away.

"I can do it twice."

"Ahk!"

"Call my name again, love," he said, drawing away from you with a shit-eating grin.

"We can do this after," you said as you fully pushed him away. "Even during, depending how the evening goes."

"I like how you think," Ahk said, offering his hand to you with a cocked chin raised high. "Ready to go?"

You nodded.

The doors before you opened, and a short walk up to the throne led you to overlook the crowd, scanning over every citizen's face whose eyes fell to you. Without a word spoken from you or Ahk, silence fell in the hall crowded past the brim. Torches flanked either side of the long room, illuminating the moving heads, as well as marking the searing smoke of meat and the plates of food presented out on the many tables.

It was not unlike the feast for Amun, but this time the only human images standing on a podium were you and Ahk. No more golden statues. Now what remained was the Pharaoh in all his glory, glowing as though blessed with an ethereal light, sheer silk with sewn gold cascading from him like a comet trailing the sky.

Once most everyone's attention was on the Pharaoh, he spoke.

"I know that much of my rule has not been through peaceful times," he said, meeting the eyes of every listener. "I thank you all for your patience with me. We have seen the rising of my brother's empire, and it has ended in ruin––we have seen the death of three Pharaohs, myself included."

A quiet laugh murmured through the crowd. Out of the corner of your eye, you spied Piye sticking to the wall by themself. You jogged over, whispering a beckoning, before taking their hand and personally leading them up the pedestal.

"I am sure you have all heard of what I've done. The events that have come to pass. Whether or not you have the whole of the story, or any true part of the story, is what worries me. I want all of you to know why I did what I did––why, exactly, I am not a heretic. You deserve that much."

Ahk spoke as though conversing with an old friend, something you were sure made his approval rating amongst the populace skyrocket. He continued that tone of voice, that familiarity, as he recounted the long events of the past few months, from your appearance in the castle (which he labelled as a gift from the Gods), to Ma'at herself locking Amun into the sky. They all listened closely, believing every word of their loving Pharaoh.

"I did what I did to protect myself, my people, and my friends. They were necessary evils. But now I have Ma'at's blessing, and I take my rightful place as your Pharaoh," he said with a growing confidence that boomed in his projected voice. "I am Ra's Son once more."

An eruption of cheers and shouts burst your ears, and you grinned from ear to ear, glancing to your side to watch for Ahk's reaction. He was smiling as well, prideful as he deserved. Piye held their own small smile as well.

Instruments came back in full swing, humming and thrumming with the vibrations of the tall chamber. Though at first they were the melodies of many songs, playing one after the other without pause, they converged into a tune that filled your head, seeping into the thoughts of every listener. You paid little attention to the words they sang in perfect harmonies till a word caught your attention––your name. Looking out across the citizens of Memphis, of Kemet, you realized they were singing about you.

The fire that reigns on the burning King will never yield to the sword! The spells that remain pour down in the rain as the Nile boils in the sea

What wonders they bring! This thunder for the God, Amoke and the hundreds that sing the name of the God, Amoke

Pray to the earth for a saving grace As the magi searches the planes The dead, they seek The living antique a God of his own who can't rest on his throne Call to the name of the holy

We sing to thee! Sunset for the God, Amoke Sing praise for thee! Thunder for the God, Amoke Thunder for the God, Amoke! The beauty of the God, Amoke!

Your mouth hung open as you watched them sing, ignorant to Ahk, who was now smiling at your shocked expression.

"... and so will you be remembered," Ahk murmured, his arms wrapping around you as he came up behind you. "A God for all of time.”

“My Amoke."

~+~

You had access to great temples––to places of worship hundreds of years old, intricately detailed spells shown on every wall, bases of golden statues littered with flowers and offerings. Instead you stuck to your tiny altar, hidden away in one of the smaller storage rooms not in use. Ahk didn't quite understand it, but he allowed it happily, and left you alone to your devices.

The only item standing on your altar was a tiny statuette in the form of Mahjur. If Ahk found out that was who you were praying to, you weren't sure what he'd do, so for the time being you kept it secret. Besides that, it was nothing more than a table you set incense and tiny plates of food and water on.

It was the only light in the room––the tiny rushlight, the lit incense drawing smoke into the air. Layers of it fell above your head, knelt low in respect of the God who had helped you.

Physical feeling fell away, and in that moment, your forehead pressed to the table, you realized the many prayers you'd sent into the stranger of an underworld were being answered at last.

A single, high note rang in your head as the image of open, glowing eyes pierced your thoughts.

"Is Ahk ssssafe?" They asked in a whisper in your head that you could barely hear.

Yes, you thought, keeping your eyes closed to maintain the connection.

"... you haavvvvve.. other questionss... correct?"

Amun is an all-powerful God, yes?

"Yes."

How did we escape him? How did we hide away? Why did he not pluck me from the sky? How did we survive the ire of a creator God?

"Ahk hasss cccertain experiencess... with Gods. He issss ssssmart. He isss untraceable by annnny Gods' mmagggic."

How? You pleaded.

"He hass died annnnd come back. He issss... undead. No longer human. Nnnnot entirrrrely."

You swallowed thick, forcing yourself not to open your eyes from surprise.

And Piye?

"A mmmmagi. Invvvvissssible. Too... absorbed innn the world.. to see," they hummed, glowing eyes still probing your thoughts.

... and me?

There was silence for a moment, and the eyes blinked, but remained within your head.

"You... are not.. hhhhuman," they whispered.

Your eyes flew open.

What?

––––––

If you want to hear the song I wrote about in this story, I actually recorded it and you can find it here.