#my temples are bursting at the seams

[xo-cod]

How about 141 as dads being ecstatic about their child talking for the first time? Especially if they say dada? :3

aww nonnie, this is so soft :") <33 i made them girl dads again because i'm yearning 🥲😩

price: so so incredibly proud of his baby. like, it's such a big moment for her and he stands there stunned for a few seconds before the warmest smiles graces his lips. bends to her level, his hand enveloping her tiny ones as he nods so happy. "good job, baby! i'm your dad, sweetheart" kisses her cheek and cradles her close, heart bursting at the seams from the love that's overflowing from him

simon: his lil munchkin just spoke and said "dada" no less, he's absolutely on cloud nine. he froze, unsure of what he had heard before the babble came from her lips again and this time there was no mistakes. he bundles her in his big arms, sweetly kissing her temple and forehead. "good girl, baby. i'm your dad. my little love is already growing up so fast, eh?" he coos softly holding back a tear. but one falls from his eye anyway.

gaz: his heart thumps with so much love and affection, he thinks it'll burst straight out of his chest. almost dropped to the floor when he heard the word, almost getting whiplash when he heard her babble. "yes honey, i'm here! your dada" he cuddles her super close to his chest, kissing her forehead. you can bet he's documenting everything so that he can cry in happiness later on

soap: this man will shed a tear. his innocent angel just spoke and called out for him no less. his heart was thumping wildly when she spoke the word, he could feel it melt in his chest as he gazed at her tiny form with pure adoration. "yes angel, it's me, dad's here!" cheers at her, encouraging her to speak further. "oh my sweet lass, already so smart" he marvels, kissing her cheeks because he's the happiest dad in the world and he 100% will note the occasion down because it deserves to be celebrated in his eyes

[cherryredcheol]

me!

tldr: i promise that you'll never find another like me a/n: i unironically love this song. and lover is in my top 3 taylor albums. don't fight with me about it. tw: mentions of drinking/drunkenness (not shown)

i know you never get just what you see but i will never bore you, baby

laying in bed, seungkwan thought it was almost eerie how quiet the apartment was, but he was grateful for it. last night it was packed to the brim, bursting at the seams with friends there to celebrate your birthday. songs were sung, music was blasted, and the laughs were abundant. now all seungkwan could hear was the steady sound of your breathing next to him, the distant hum of traffic outside, and the pounding in his head. the sun was bleeding through the curtains, too bright and too warm. his skin felt sticky and sweaty. which was probably due to the hangover he would be nursing for the rest of the day. 

seungkwan had no idea what time it was. the two of you could’ve been asleep in that bed for a few hours or a few days. he was sure you’d feel even worse than him when you finally woke up. you had gone hard last night and would be reaping what you had sown today as a consequence. he had a fleeting thought about climbing out of bed to get some medicine from the cabinet in the en suite but just as he was about to actually do it, you shifted on the mattress curling closer to him, as if seeking his comfort. he couldn’t leave you in that state, could he? he didn’t think so. 

you had surprised him last night. not usually a heavy drinker, you hadn’t been that drunk in a long time. he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen you like that, if at all. he probably should’ve kept a closer eye on you and helped you pace yourself. but when you turned to him, already slightly tipsy after two shots thrown back in quick succession, lips wet with liquor, and eyes sparkling with unadulterated birthday joy, he couldn’t tell you no when you asked him to do the third one together. but three shots suddenly turned into two bottles of soju each and by then all bets were off. seungkwan has always had a hard time telling you no, and apparently, that still stands even when you’re both wasted. 

“i can feel you staring at me.” seungkwan was startled from his thoughts by the sound of your raspy morning voice, made worse by the lingering sting of alcohol.

he laughed and pressed a soft kiss to your temple, hoping to ease some of the pain he’s sure you’re feeling, “i’m trying to decide if i should risk crawling out of bed for water and medicine or if our love for one another is enough to cure this.” 

this time you laughed, wincing slightly from the jostling of your head you pointed out, “our love is strong but it’s not magic.” 

“i don’t know, feels pretty magical to me.” eyes on you, he watched a blush creep across your cheek that wasn’t squished into the pillow, the exact reaction he hoped his cheesy comment would have. 

eyes still trained on your closed ones, he wasn’t surprised when your soft voice reached his ears after a few moments of stillness, asking the question he was already expecting, “can we just lay in bed today? i know it’ll be boring but-”

seungkwan cut you off, “i’m never bored with you, cutie.”

you ran after me and called my name i never wanna see you walk away

soonyoung probably didn’t mean anything by the offhanded comment about seungkwan’s repeated choreography mistake but he took it personally. today had been so long already and it wasn’t over yet. he was desperate to leave the practice room. craving fresh air and some quality time with you. sweet you, who was sitting on the floor, back pressed to the wall, head tilted down, enthralled by whatever was on the screen cradled in your hands. well, you were captivated until voices started getting loud.  

you look up from your phone to see the flurry of seungkwan’s hands moving animatedly, decibel climbing with every word. just at the peak of the crescendo he heaves a sigh, turns on his heel, and promptly exits. 

the tension left behind is thick and uncomfortable but you’re on your feet following him out the door before it could even slam in its frame. 

you could see him down the hallway, the distance between you two growing with each of his purposeful steps. “seungkwan-”  you called out to him gently, not trying to make anything worse, but wanting him to know you were behind him. 

he turned at the sound of your voice, the frustration on his features softening into fondness as he watched you catch up to him. 

as soon as you’re close enough he reaches out to you, fingers intertwining, and suddenly he felt exhausted from all the effort he had put forth today. here in the hallway with you was the first moment since he left you in bed this morning where he felt like he could relax. 

looking at him and seeing no signs of the earlier outburst you decide to test the waters, “are you alright? need to talk?” 

seungkwan closes his eyes, squeezes your hand, and releases a slow breath. with a small nod of his head, he reopens his eyes, meeting your own,  “i had you meet me here so we could go out to dinner tonight and it would’ve all been great because we were supposed to get done with practice an hour ago except i keep messing up and it’s keeping everyone here late and you’ve been sitting on the floor and i just-” he closes his eyes again, tilting his head back and releasing a hard breath through his nose. 

you barely hear him when he says, “i’m so tired.”

this time you squeeze his hand briefly before releasing it. choosing instead to wrap your arms around his middle, offering wordless support as he wraps his own arms around you and pulls you closer. you two stay like that for a moment and when seungkwan has finally collected himself he whispers again, “do i have to go in there and apologize or can we just leave and pretend this never happened?”

sensing his teasing tone, you giggle, “oh kwan, you definitely owe them an apology. storming out of the room is pretty childish, not cute.”

he pulled back, looking incredulous, “what do you mean ‘not cute’? it was cute enough to work on you! you came running right after me!”

you laughed again, “yeah that’s because i never want to see you walk away.”

i promise that nobody’s gonna love you like me

seungkwan eased the car to a stop at the red light, looking over at you in the passenger seat. your head was turned, looking out the window admiring the bright colors of early summer that have bloomed across seoul. 

glancing at the light to make sure it was still red, he broke the comfortable silence, “any idea where i’m taking you?”

you turned, meeting his teasing gaze with your own, “obviously not. that’s the whole point of a surprise, isn’t it?”

he held your eyes for a minute, the moment only broken by the sound of a polite beep! alerting him to the change in signal. he focused his attention back on the task of driving, a feat in and of itself that was near herculean when he could feel your eyes lingering on his profile. 

another few moments of quiet passed when he spoke again, “would you like to know where i’m taking you?” 

you couldn’t help but continue to tease him, “it kind of seems like you want to tell me. not the other way around.” 

he scoffed, “i do want to tell you! i planned this whole thing for you. i know you’re going to love it.” 

you smiled, “you better tell me then. i’m dying to know.” 

throughout this whole exchange, you had been too busy watching seungkwan’s expressive face and didn’t even notice the car had stopped. only when you felt seungkwan shift the gear into park did you look around. 

“you brought me to a…parking lot in a random seoul neighborhood. cool.” 

seungkwan shifted in his seat to turn and look at you, “this is not just any parking lot in a random seoul neighborhood, cutie. this is the parking lot for museum kimchikan!”

your eyes widened in disbelief and a smile stretched across your face, “you brought me to the kimchi museum? holy shit, i love you!”

you were giggling and unbuckling your seatbelt in a flash, hurrying to get out of the car and into the museum you had seen on instagram a few weeks ago. it had come up on your feed as something unique to do and you had promptly sent the post to seungkwan, telling him how cool it would be to go and learn the history of such a staple food. he hadn’t seemed that interested and you’d kind of forgot about it so when he planned this surprise date for you two, you had not been expecting this at all. 

crossing the parking lot, fingers clasped together, you pulled seungkwan to a stop, “thanks for planning this for me. it means a lot that you remembered.”

he blushed, giving away how touched he was by your words despite his simple answer, “of course i remembered, i love you.”

[octuscle]

Fuck man using this app whilst I'm currently so horny might be a mistake but please tell me this thing has a forced growth feature. I'm so bored of being small already I just want to become so fucking huge the only thing I can fit in is under wear, skin tight gym shorts at the most. I want my stench and B.O to instantly fill up a room and make lesser men fall to their knees.

I just wanna be forced to become a young insanely huge freakshow of a bodybuilder.

RIPPPPPP! In the middle of lunch, the seam of your jacket rips open across your back. The whole restaurant is looking at you. You barely look up from your plate, on which instead of a coq au vin there are now six boiled chicken breasts with rice. You struggle to free yourself from the shreds of your jacket without stopping to gulp down your food.

RIPPPPPP! Your biceps burst the sleeves of your shirt. With your mouth full, you mumble something like "sorry" and just rip the remnants of the sleeves off the rest of the shirt. You eat your food like a pig. The glass of Merlot is now a canister of protein shake. Your colleagues and business partners stare at you with open mouths. You pause for a moment and do a double biceps pose. Fuck, the bushes under your armpits stink like a horse stable. You take a deep breath and grin. PIIIIING! Two of your shirt buttons can no longer withstand your pectoral muscles as you inhale and fly through the air like projectiles. You stand up with difficulty, apologize again with your mouth full and spit food scraps around. On the way to the toilet, you let loose a huge protein fart. A quick look in the mirror… You can throw away the shirt. For the rest of lunch it must still hold out with torn sleeves and unbuttoned. While you first fart and then burp even louder, your boss comes in. Holds you a telling off, what that was for an impossible behavior on your part. He asks you to leave the restaurant discreetly through the back exit. And to report to him in the office tomorrow morning.You put your hand to your temple in an "Aye Sir". And you fart again as a farewell.

Your fancy Porsche convertible groans as you squeeze your body into the tight seat. Fuck, the car is much too small for you. The remnants of the clothes you're wearing on your body are much too small for you. You desperately need a change of clothes. In your gym there is a small corner where they sell fitness clothes. And the gym is nearby, so you drive the car there. The receptionist stares at you. This is actually a posh place for yuppies and influencers who want to keep fit. Not for the big lads like you. You ask if they have anything to wear in your size. The lady asks you if you speak English. You repeat your question with a heavy Russian accent.

The only thing they have here in your size are shorts that are frighteningly tight on your thighs. At least there are shoes and socks in size 14. You look good. You do another pose in front of the mirror. The passing visitors of the gym hold their noses. You smell your armpit again. Good honest pumper sweat. You want to go to the training area when you are asked for your membership card. You search for your wallet in the rags that used to be your suit pants. There it is. But Anatol Ivanovich is not a member here. Anatol is a member of Gold's Gym.

You love your Jeep Wrangler Rubicon. A car like you. Massive and bursting with power. And fortunately well ventilated for any passengers. As you roll into the parking lot in front of the gym, you and your car stick out. This is certainly a place for the big guys. But you're the biggest of them.

After the third set on the leg press, you take a deep breath. Yes, this is what a gym must smell like. Like burps. Like protein farts. Like sweat. Like testosterone. Just like you!

Found the pic of your new you @muscleaddictza

[gourdkeeper]

Hi, tysm for your amazing Jamie fics 💗

I was thinking about a fic where Jamie sees Fem!Reader with Luke, whether it be catching a bite to eat, or sharing a hug or something, and Jamie takes it completely the wrong way and thinks there is something going on. Queue the issuing fight between Luke and Jamie!

Tysm again, best Jamie fics ever! 💓

Arghhahdhsks thank you!! I wouldn't say they're the best tho, Jamie got quite a few great writers <3 also damn!! First non smutty request! Enjoy!

Content warnings: jamie is really fucking jealous in this, violence, swearing, fem!reader, jamie is possessive once more, luke is just a perfect friend but he gets heated up too, reader doesn't put up with crap either

Word count: 1648

The sun was shining bright, there was a faint breeze in the air and the streets were bustling. It was the perfect day to grab a bite with a friend. And that was just the plan for today.

You invited Luke to hang out after working out together and he was overjoyed, accepted immediately. He likes you a lot as student, you're always eager to learn and you don't back down from a challenge, besides, you're really good company and friend. Luke likes playing video games a good deal and so do you, so every now and then you visit an arcade together or just play something online.

It's nice! Him and Bosch were your first friends when you first moved here and naturally, you cherish them a lot.

You walked through the park at first, it's a nice place nearby the academy and made way to the main streets.

Luke wanted pizza. Again.

"Luke please I'm gonna be sick of pizza at this rate." You huff at him and he just shrugs his shoulders at you.

"Getting sick of perfection? Couldn't be me-"

"You've eaten pizza the last time. And the time before that. And the one before too."

"Ok fine, what do you want instead? Burger?"

You can't help but laugh, how does this guy keep his physique when all he eats is junk.

"I don't know? Maybe we can grab some street food instead? The weather's nice and all!"

"Sweet! Sure, there's the pizza stall-"

You punch his shoulder in jest.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding!"

You both joke around and end up settling on going to Chinatown, there's a new joint you wanted to try for a little while now and you were craving some ramen and soup truth be told.

Luke's stomach is growling and he starts mumbling about how he's gonna need to order the entire menu.

You suggest to take a starter to eat on the spot while you wait for the takeout order to be finished.

---

It's been a godawful day. His eyeliner isn't perfectly even. Just as he went out a bus splashed mud all over his pants. Then he got harrassed in the subway when all he wanted was to mind his business. Ugh.. he's sick and tired of the good-for-nothing brutes that keep taking over the city. It's even worse when the weather is good. The streets become packed. People bump into him. Thugs will try picking on him simply for being a "pretty boy".

And then there's the issue at hand, he wanted to grab some lunch and every damned place is full, bursting at the seams.

Jamie feels like he can't catch a break.

He decides to just call it a day. He'll just cook himself something much better anyway. "If these losers want to waste upwards to an hour in a queue they can take the L." He thinks to himself.

He's not aware that his day is about to become even worse.

He stops in his tracks just as he cuts the corner to go in his apartment.

"Luke?! What the hell is this douchebag doing here?" He stares for a bit and as Luke moves he notices someone covered by his wide silhouette. "...No way."

His thoughts are racing. "Now why, *today* of all days, is this joke of a man here and with *my* girl? What does he think he's doing? In *my* turf of all places."

He observes with a vein nearly popping at his temple as Luke extends a spring roll to your mouth and you happily take it. His blood boils as he sees you being all buddy-buddy with his rival. Trading smiles. Laughing at his lame jokes. The idiot even has the audacity of touching your face to wipe away a bit of food? How fucking dare he? How fucking dare he put his hands on you?

Jamie's fuming, any more anger bubbling in him and smoke would be coming out of his nose.

He spots the vendor calling them over to hand them take out boxes and bags. Huh? They're not gonna finish eating here? What? Is he intending on stealing his girlfriend away? Take her home? Nah, he ain't letting this slide.

He pulls and rolls up the sleeves of his yellow jacket and starts walking towards you and Luke. Head low, glaring through his brows and teeth bared.

"Oh Jamie hi!" You notice your boyfriend approach and wave, you didn't expect to run into him but you're always happy to see him.

"Jamie? Is everything ok?" You find his lack of response odd.

"Huh?" Luke turns around, spring roll still halfway in his mouth.

Expressing his initial confusion was all he had time to do before the long haired man pulled his arm back and swung at him. Fist landing right on his face, sending him backwards a few steps and making him spit the food out.

"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR BRO?" Luke doesn't understand what prompted him to this.

"Don't even start with the "bro's", I'm ain't no bro of yours." He spits at the ground directly in front of the blond. He's ready to throw hands.

"Jamie?!" You're caught completely off guard, why the hell did he do that? You rush to your friend, "Luke are you okay?"

He pushes you away lightly. "You might want to step aside. I'll deal with this."

People starts gathering around curious.

"Oh yeah? Why is that? Got tired of her boyfriend? Was I not enough?" Jamie snarls, "Or are you just trying to steal her away from me Mr. Perfect?!"

They push each other back in turns.

"What?!" You're incredulous, but... Kind of entertained at the same time?

"Is your girlfriend not allowed to have friends now?" Luke retorts.

"Not with dipshits like you, you fuckin' meathead loser."

"Oh I'm the meathead?! I didn't walk in here swinging. Peacekeeper my ass, that's the damn opposite you-"

"Watch your fucking mouth army boy."

"Or what?"

Their foreheads are almost pressing at each other and you decide to intervene before they both go fully at it and thrash the street.

"Both of you knock it off! What the hell is going on?"  You slide in the middle and push your boyfriend away. "Back off Jamie, what is this all about?! You too Luke, back off!" They hardly move.

Luke tries to put his hand on your shoulder to get you to get away and Jamie slaps it off.

"Touch my girl one more time and you're eating concrete."

"Jamie! Luke is my friend, he's not doing anything wrong-"

"Oh is that so? Sharing food while giggling to each other? Right in front of where I live?"

"...we were just grabbing some food? Like...how friends do?" You can't believe you need to explain how friendships work to your partner. Is he really that jealous? Or is it just because it's Luke?

You heard that they don't get along before but this is a whole other level.

"Touching your mouth?"

"For fuck's sake this is ridiculous-" You can hardly believe this.

"Don't worry, that's what he does best, being ridiculou-" Luke can't even finish what he's saying before another punch comes flying in his direction.

He straightens up and launches himself at Jamie.

You quickly step away, trying to avoid being hit on accident.

Luke isn't holding back. He's holding Jamie by the jacket's collar and punching freely until Jamie manages to stick his foot on the other's abdomen and kick him off.

"If you both don't knock that off right now I'm going home."

They ignore you, more focused on fighting than on you.

"Fine. Have fun, get a room while you're at it." You walk off, huffing. "What the hell is their deal..." You mutter to yourself as you walk home alone.

---

A few hours have passed when you get a text from your dear coach.

"Hey, sorry about today, I'll pay lunch next time. Hope you're not mad at me."

You're not mad at him, I mean, he didn't really do anything wrong, he just refused to take shit.

There's a knock at the door.

"Babe, are you home? I'm sorry!" Jamie is yelling from outside.

You take a deep breath and go to open it.

Yikes... he looks like roadkill.

You keep your head low and you let him walk in.

"...I'm sorry about today." He takes his hands from behind his back and pulls out a small bouquet of flowers. "I know it doesn't make it right but..." He hands them over to you.

"Jamie... What was all that for?" You accept the flowers and you take a hand to his face, his lip is busted and eye swollen, it looks like it hurts.

"I just... I just thought that you two were being too close and that...you know."

"Luke and I are friends, I know him for longer than I know you, if I wanted to be with him like that I would have done it before. You can trust me."

He clearly feels stupid. He knows his actions were irrational and brash. Amplified by the bad day he had of course, but it doesn't excuse it.

"I know I can trust you... I'm sorry."

You crack a smile and laugh.

"W-why are you laughing..?"

"It's kinda cute-“

"What is-?"

"That you're soooo insanely jealous."

"Lies. The great Jamie Siu doesn't get jealous of anyone." He's struggling not to laugh himself, fully aware of how silly he sounds.

You hold his hands and kiss his cheek.

"I'll forgive you..."

His eyes light up.

"... If..."

"If?"

You smirk at him.

"You also apologize to Luke. I think he deserves flowers too."

He shakes his head laughing and clicks his tongue, "Tsk, I'm not giving that guy any flowers."

You raise your brow at him.

"Okay fine! Flowers for the scoutboy it is, ugh..."

[mermaidgirl30]

Look for the Light Epilogue

Series Masterlist

- Summary: Aly finds herself trying to escape the Boston QZ. What Aly doesn’t know is Tess is pairing her up with Joel to go on a dangerous mission to find Tommy. Will Aly survive the brooding, moody Joel or will she find herself falling hard for him?

- Notes: I am so so sad this story is over! I loved every second of writing this and put in so many hours on this masterpiece. This was my first ever fanfic and I hold it so dear to my heart. I can’t tell you how much I cried writing the epilogue. It ended perfect, and I just can’t get over that it’s over 😭🥹 My heart hurts

This is the song I played over and over when I wrote this chapter, fits so well 🥰🩵

You watched the rest of December disappear just like the snow on the ground. The last few weeks were magical as the town was donned in glittery Christmas lights and garland foliage. Joel had even decorated the living room with a little pine tree and splayed pretty Christmas lights all over it. It was the comfiest Christmas you’d ever had. Your favorite part was being wrapped up with him on the couch as you drank hot chocolate and sat in front of the fireplace on Christmas Eve, keeping warm as he kept you in his lap, running his fingers through your hair and sending light kisses against your temples.

You watched the seasons fly by in Jackson as the months came and went in the blink of an eye. You watched the frigid, snowy days turn to lush, rainy days as the spring flowers started to blossom outside the gates.

The town was quiet for the most part. You had settled into your normal routine in Jackson, taking care of all the horses and even some of the other animals like the sheep which was Joel’s favorite. He had always wanted his own sheep farm, so he’d stop by every time you were tending to them.

Joel started working on more projects in town, helping build new buildings, fixing things around houses, and even doing a little woodwork in his spare time. He always loved working with his hands and making new things. He had a knack for it and was good at it, too. Some days you’d just sit there in his woodshop and watch him work. The way his rough hands would cut the wood, the way he’d turn an ordinary item into a beautiful piece of art. The way his broad shoulders and massive biceps would flex each time he brought the hammer down onto the table. He was a masterpiece in himself. A gorgeous work of art.

And then there was Ellie. You got to witness the budding relationship between Joel and her take place over the changing seasons. That was your favorite thing to see. He taught her so many things, even taught her how to swim in the deep crystal lake that was nearby. He was so careful with her, so patient. You could see he deeply cared about her now.

He was always grabbing up comic books on patrols that he thought she’d like, always putting her needs before his own. He was quite selfless and so kind. You loved seeing him turn from that angry, brooding man into a protective, sweet, loving one. He was so different than the man you once knew. You liked this version of him. No, you loved this version. You loved him, intensely.

Most evenings were spent sitting on the porch swing as you watched Joel teach Ellie more songs on the guitar. He had found her her own acoustic guitar and gifted it to her at Christmas. The way he lit up when he saw Ellie’s face as she opened the gift under the dazzling tree was worth the trip to find the guitar in the first place. It made your heart burst at the seams. She had been so excited to have her own guitar, and she practiced every day as it became her new favorite hobby. Joel and Ellie had become quite the duo.

The crisp, spring days turned into warm summer days as July rolled around. Joel was taking you on an adventure today or so he said. He wouldn’t tell you where you were going. He wouldn’t even do so much as give you a hint. He kept his jaw locked tight as you rolled your eyes and gave up.

As he led Shimmer out of the barn, you saw Tommy and Maria smiling brightly at Joel like they knew something you didn’t. You saw Joel whispering to Tommy and Maria earlier in the week, even doing the same to Ellie. You didn’t know what all the secrecy was about, but you’d figure it out eventually. Your birthday was only a month away, so maybe they were planning a secret party? Oh well, you wouldn’t worry about it today. You’d just enjoy whatever adventure he was taking you on.

Joel was dressed in his usual attire, even though it was above 80 degrees outside. He had on a grey t-shirt and his green flannel shirt hung unbuttoned over that. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows as he showed off those thick veins that spread across the width of his arms and ended at his massive hands.

He had put on even more muscle during the springtime with all the projects he was doing, so his biceps were clinging to his flannel, threatening to tear the material at any given time. You loved those strong arms, loved being inside them as he held you close at night. It was one of your favorite things.

His blue jeans hung snuggly across his waist and showed off his muscular thighs. He was all ripped, all muscle. And he was all yours for the taking.

Before you could jump up on Shimmer, Joel put a hand on your shoulder and stopped you in your tracks. He clicked his tongue and smiled up at you. “Hold on, darlin’. Gotta put this on before we go.” He held out a big, oversized black ribbon in front of your face as you questioned the gesture of it.

“What’s this for?” you asked as your eyebrows furrowed together.

“You gotta put it on so you don’t see where we’re goin’,” he answered as he kept his hand in place with the ends of the ribbon flying softly in the wind.

“But why would I put that on?” you asked with a dazed expression.

“It’s a surprise. Don’t want ya seein’ where I’m leading you. Can I just put it on you?” he asked with a calm voice, trying to convince you the best he could.

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Okay, okay. You win. Go ahead,” you said as you crossed your arms. He gently smiled at you and nodded.

“Alright, turn around for me,” he asked, delicately grasping you by the shoulders and turning you as he wrapped the ribbon around your eyes as you watched the sunlight disappear into darkness.

“Can you see anything?” he asked as he tried waving a hand in front of your eyes.

“No, think you wrapped me up tight enough,” you replied as you heard him chuckle under his breath.

“Alright, then up you go.” He lifted you up as you felt yourself leave the ground as you landed on top of Shimmer with your legs dangling and your hands frantically feeling for something to grasp. You felt for the saddle and held on tight.

“Joel, don’t you dare let me fall!” you yelled as you held on for dear life.

He laughed under his breath and jumped up to join you on Shimmer. “I’m not gonna let you fall, sweetheart. Just hold on to me and keep a tight grip. I got you,” he promised as he grabbed a hold of the reins.

You wrapped your arms tightly around his waist before he took off into the heat of the day, letting the wind catch your hair as Shimmer’s pace picked up. The sun’s scorching rays caught your bare shoulders in the white lacy tank top you were in along with the blue Jean shorts that grazed your thighs, making your skin glow with that shimmery summer tan.

You rode on for a couple miles until you finally broke your silence and laughed against the racing wind. “Where are you taking me?”

“It’s a surprise, darlin’. Can’t tell you even if I wanted to,” he replied as you could hear his smile and how it crinkled up at the corners of his mouth.

“Fine,” you sighed.

He chuckled again softly. “We’re almost there. Just a couple more minutes,” he promised. He squeezed your hand in response, sending vibrations buzzing through your body.

After a few minutes you heard Joel halt Shimmer as she came to a complete stop. He jumped off her back and gently lifted you off, bringing you safely back to the ground.

“Can you take this off me now?” you asked, anxious to take the blinding ribbon off.

“Almost, just give me another minute. Follow my voice, we’re almost there,” he promised.

He took your hands in his and led you forward. You couldn’t see anything, but you could smell sweet, fragrant scents of honeysuckle and floral aromas around you. The smell was overwhelming as it took over all your senses. Flowers were one of your favorite things, and Joel knew this. So you just wondered where exactly he was leading you.

What was he up to?

You could feel the lush grass underneath your feet with every step you took. The wind whistled through your ears as you heard the rustling of branches swaying gently in the breeze and could feel the faint touch of summer heat on your tan skin.

You felt the ground turn softer, almost like you were walking through moss. You heard Joel’s footsteps in front of you faintly, the sound of leaves and sticks crunching under his weight.

“Joel! Not so fast, I don’t want to fall,” you laughed as he led you further into the unknown.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, turning towards you with that soothing voice that could lull all your worries away.

“Yes,” you said automatically. Of course you trusted him.

“Then believe me when I say I’d never let you fall. I’ve got you, I promise.”

The floral scents became stronger as you wandered further into the distance, getting closer to wherever he was leading you. The hint of something sweet like candy filled the air. You breathed in deep and caught the scent of something you’ve smelled before but couldn’t quite grasp what it was.

What was that smell? Something soft…maybe roses? No…something else. You inhaled deeply and got another whiff of lush fragrance. It almost smelled like lilacs. One of your favorites. Joel had always said how much you smelled like lilacs, and it quickly became his favorite trademark of you.

Could it be? No…there weren’t lilacs around this area that you knew of. Maybe jasmine was what you were smelling? Yes, that’s what it had to be.

Joel slowly stopped you as he dropped your hands. “You ready?” he asked with a small laugh rumbling in his throat.

“More than ready,” you said prepared.

“Okay. Open you eyes,” he said softly as he untied the ribbon and dropped it, freeing you from the darkness as blinding light took over. You took a moment to adjust your eyes and then you saw just where you stood.

You gasped as you took in your surroundings. You weren’t just anywhere. You were in the middle of a giant field filled with lilac and violet flowers. The field was absolutely covered as vibrant purples blossomed all around you. Thick vines of lilac climbed up the sides of oak trees and got buried in the pinks and whites of wild flowers in the distance. You never saw such beautiful flowers before. The deep, rich shades of light and dark purple completely took over the area. It was like nothing you had seen before.

“Joel…how did you find this place?” you asked in disbelief, making a clear circle as you turned to face him again.

“This wasn’t exactly here before,” he answered as he raked a hand across his salt and pepper scruff, staring at you nervously.

“What do you mean it wasn’t here?” Your eyebrows furrowed as you took a step towards him, taking in the sweet smell of lilacs as it encased the air.

“I planted them by hand in the winter. Well, not just me. I had Maria help me since she’s a master at that sort of thing. She said they’d be fine over winter and wouldn’t take too long to start growing. They’re not fully mature yet, but it’s just the beginning. Another year and they’ll be fully grown. Thought you might like it….ya know since they’re your favorite flowers and all,” he said blushing, a small smile edging his lips as his dimples were in full effect now. Making you all warm and fuzzy from the view of him. That beautiful smile.

“You…you did this all for me?” you whispered, your eyes wide in shock.

“That’s right. All for you, sweetheart,” he answered affectionately.

Oh.

“Joel, that…that’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” you said quietly, still in a daze.

“So, ya like it then?” he asked with raised eyebrows, anxious for your answer.

“I don’t just like it, I love it!” you said excitedly as you beamed at him.

“Good, that’s good,” he smiled again as he scratched the back of neck restlessly.

What was he so nervous for? Was he afraid you wouldn’t like it? Because obviously you loved it.

You spun around as you glanced over the glorious flowers as they were on full display for you, their heavenly scents surrounding you as you drank in the sweet fragrance. You grazed your finger over a deep purple violet as you took in its delicate, velvety petals. Examining how succulent and pretty they all were.

You turned back around towards Joel as you were about to ask him a question. “Joel, do you…” You stopped mid sentence when you saw him down on one knee right in front of you. Your eyes went wide and your jaw dropped at the sight as you took in his sincere and longing eyes as he stared at you in awe.

Was he about to ask you to…oh my God.

He took both of your hands in his as he took a deep breath and smiled admiringly at you. “Alyson Harper, my love. Where do I even begin? You are the most beautiful, incredible woman I’ve ever met. You’ve taught me so much over the last year, so much about life. You’ve shown me how to be patient, how to be kind. Especially with Ellie. I could not have brought her all the way here without your help and support. And I definitely couldn’t raise her on my own without your help and guidance. You are incredibly patient with her, and that’s something you taught me how to be also. You’ve taught me how to be completely selfless, how to be gentle. You helped me find my way to the light when I was stuck in the darkness, unable to find my way out myself. You’ve taught me how to trust again, how to love again. You reminded me what it was like to live again. You’ve been exactly what I needed all along. You made me a better man, made me want to be better. For you and for Ellie. And I just could not picture my life without you in it. You are the love of my life, Alyson. And I don’t want to do this life without you.”

You felt a teardrop run down your cheek as you quickly wiped it away. His speech was so beautiful, it was like music to your ears. An entire symphony that was only playing for you, and Joel was the composer. You were internally screaming at his words, at how intimate and loving they were. The way he was looking at you with those warm, serene pools of honey in his eyes almost knocked you down by how intense it was.

He dropped one of your hands and dug around in his pocket for something until he found exactly what he was looking for. Once he grabbed it, he fished his hand out of his jeans and held up a glistening, purple amethyst diamond ring to you which made you about topple over.

You gawked at the sight as your eyes went wide and you quickly covered your mouth with your hand, completely stunned at just what was happening before your eyes. Joel’s deep brown eyes were watering as he continued on with his speech as he held your hand tightly and looked at you as if you were the only girl in the world.

“Alyson, will you please do me the honor of marrying me? Make me the happiest man in the world,” he asked as he poured his heart out to you.

You felt your heart skip a beat as happy tears fell down your cheeks. You bit your lip and held in anymore tears that were threatening to spill, wanting to compose yourself in the best way that you could.

“Joel, I don’t know what to say…” you said stunned, your voice carrying faintly across the soft wind.

“Say yes, baby,” he pleaded, his eyes honing in on you as they sank deep inside your soul. You swear you could feel that string attached to his heart connect to yours as you were pulled to him like a moth to a flame.

He was asking as if you needed enticing. Of course you didn’t. This was a hard yes, the easiest yes you’d ever have to say. Joel was your future, your best friend, your forever lover. And you wanted it with him as much as he wanted it with you. A life of happiness, full of love and joy.

“Yes, yes! A thousand times yes,” you yelled in pure bliss as you met him on his level and cupped his face in between your palms, pulling him in for a passionate kiss.

His lips tasted like honey as his soft, delicate lips crashed down on yours. He wrapped his arm around your waist and picked you up, spinning you in circles as he kissed you again and again, finally putting you back on the ground and keeping his arms around you.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he said as he smiled down at you, brushing his lips against yours.

He took your left hand in his and gently slid the sparkling ring on your ring finger. It was a perfect fit. It was so gorgeous, you’d never seen anything quite like it before. The way the iridescent diamond was etched, you swear you could see Joel’s heart beating inside it. A clear marking of something you could wear forever that was a piece of him.

“How did you find this? It’s gorgeous,” you breathed out as he held your hand up and observed the ring.

“You know all those late nights I spent on patrols with Tommy?” he asked as he looked into your eyes with big, dreamy brown eyes, nearly taking your breath away at the sight.

“Yeah,” you whispered back.

“Well, turns out Tommy helped me search high and low for a jewelry store. He knew there had to be one around Wyoming somewhere. Took a long time, but we finally found one. It was pretty picked through. I didn’t have too many options, but I wanted to find the perfect ring for ya. You always said purple was your favorite color, so when I saw this I just knew it was the one. And it’s beautiful on you, really brings out the sapphire blue of your eyes. My little lilac angel,” he purred as he caressed your check with the base of his thumb, slowly easing you into a hypnotic lull that you didn’t want to shake.

“Joel…I have no words. This is…this is just so incredible. You’re incredible. You’re amazing. You’re everything I ever wanted.” A tear trickled down your cheek and Joel caught it with his thumb, wiping it away as he kissed the damp area on your face gently.

“You deserve the best, and I’m going to be that for you. I’m gonna take good care of ya, sweetheart. Gonna love you with everything that I have.”

He slowly brought his lips back down to yours and gave you a long, passionate kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck and gently scratched along the tousled curls at the back of his head as he slid his tongue into your mouth, gently massaging yours in tune with his as you tasted a hint of coffee. That taste that you loved and couldn’t get enough of.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and brought you down to the ground playfully as he climbed on top of you and caged his arms around you, hovering just about you as he blocked the sun from your vision. All you saw were those magnetic, syrupy brown eyes and an infectious smile that played across the corners of his mouth, making him look like the gentle soul that he was. His eyes were lit up like he had just won the lottery the way he was looking at you. It made your heart melt all just the same.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked as you laughed, taking a hand and running it up and down his inner arm slowly, making you want to pull him down on top of you.

“Because the prettiest girl just agreed to marry me, and now I get you all to myself,” he beamed as his eyes lit a fire in your soul.

“Oh, you get me all to yourself now?” you laughed, trailing your fingers against his salt and pepper scruff.

“Mhm,” he hummed as his lips hung just above yours.

“I am all yours. Now come here, handsome.” You grabbed a hold of his t-shirt and pulled him down to you. He landed on your lips as he placed a hand under your chin, keeping you glued to him as he explored your mouth with his tongue, lapping you up completely as he rolled over and pulled you on top of him, his arms going around your waist as he slowly ended the kiss.

You laid there on his chest and ran your hand through his dark, tousled curls, taking in his warm eyes and infectious smile as he stared up at you in awe.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked dreamily as you played with an out of place curl, gently running your fingers across his scalp.

“How I’m gonna get to call you Mrs. Miller,” he said with a sideways smile as a smirk etched the edge of his mouth, making him look that much more handsome.

“Why don’t you practice now?” you asked flirtatiously.

“Okay. Mrs Miller…” he whispered. “Or how about Alyson Miller?” he asked with a breathtaking smile.

“I like the sound of that. Actually, I love that. I love the way you say my name. The way it just rolls off your tongue without any hesitation. You just make it so melodic,” you replied in a dreamlike state.

“Alyson…” he said with a breathy, drawn out voice. Making your thighs squeeze tighter around him as he lit a fire deep inside you.

“Keep going,” you begged as you got closer to his lips. Just an inch from tasting him.

“Alyson…my love, my everything.”

And then you were on him as you dug your fingers into his messy curls and connected with his lips, tasting sweet coffee again as you got lost in his fresh mahogany scent. After a few minutes of kissing and showing him affection, he pulled you into his side as you wrapped an arm around his chest and placed your legs over his, getting comfortable against him.

“I can’t believe I get to marry you,” you said in a daze as his hand covered yours, slowly entwining his fingers with yours.

“I can’t believe it either, sweetheart. I’m just so happy that you’re mine. You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you,” he said with a sigh as he kissed your temple.

“You’re incredible,” you whispered into his ear. “I want you to know you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And there’s not a day that goes by where I don’t just stop and go, God, I love Joel Miller,” you said with a smile pressed against your lips.

“Oh, sweetheart. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to ask you. You know I told Ellie I was gonna marry you?”

You turned your head and looked at him with wide eyes. “When did you tell her that?”

“A few months ago. I’m just glad she didn’t say anything. I swore her to secrecy. You know she helped too. With the flowers. She was so excited when I told her what I was planning. Had her jumping up and down. That girl is a mess,” he laughed as he gently placed another kiss on your cheek.

He knew for months he wanted to marry you and planned it for that long? Wow… he really was incredible.

“I love you, Joel. You’re everything I could’ve wished for and more,” you said as you held back tears.

“Oh, Alyson. And you’re my everything. My favorite person, the love of my life. I’m never ever letting you go, sweetheart.” He placed a tender kiss across your lips and then pulled you in close as you closed your eyes and breathed him in. Your sweet, gentle lover. Yours.

You laid in the bed of lilacs and violets for several minutes as you took in all the sights around you. Soaking up the sunshine, memorizing every line on Joel’s body, getting lost in his warm brown eyes, and losing yourself in the delicious scents of budding flowers, pine cones, and mahogany. Taking it all in so you could remember this day as the best day of your life.

Joel ran his hand up and down your thigh slowly as his calloused fingers brushed up against your skin, making you sink into him even more. “You wanna stay here awhile?” he asked with a low drawl.

“Yeah, let’s just enjoy this. It’s peaceful out here, and I get you all to myself. Let’s stay here for a few hours, maybe watch the sunset go down. Doesn’t that sound romantic?” you asked in a sing-song voice, completely lost in the bliss.

“Whatever you want, darlin’. We can stay as long as you want,” he said as he drew a line of kisses down your neck, sending heat into the center of your body.

“I love you, Joel,” you whispered.

“I love you more, Alyson,” he said with a lull. And then you were covering yourself in him as both of you got completely lost in the other. Making love in a bed of lilacs as you confessed your undying love to each other over and over again.

And you did stay there till the sun set. You stayed there till you had nothing left to give as you laid tucked into his side with just his plaid shirt over you, basking in the scent of each other. You slowly watched the orange sunset as it lit up the sky with painted pink and deep purple colors as you got lost in his lips again, sinking into him like he was your lifeline. But he was. He was your everything, and you’d spend the rest of your life showing him just how much you loved him.

This is where you felt most at home. Wherever he was was where you wanted to be. And you’d follow him until the end of time. Show him day and night just how much you loved him. He was your guiding light, and you’d never let him burn out. Promising to keep him in the light forever. Your eternity.

Epilogue: Pt II

[swifty-fox]

oh my goshhh i love this new list

could i request ❛ let’s do something about that mouth of yours. ❜ with buck and bucky (little beasts!!) orrrrr ur hockey au if ur down

❛ let’s do something about that mouth of yours. ❜

HOCKEY AU

"Fucking cock-sucking, dick-riding absolute joke piece of shit garbage fuckin-"

"Woah there sailor." John drawls, swinging out of the bathroom. Steam billows out after him, haloing his athletes body like the angel he most certainly was not.

Mikeeysmind's 'VVV' trails out after him, a particular assault on Gale's ears that has him pressing his fingers to his temples

"Sorry, did I interrupt your preening?" Gale bites and then groans at himself, falling back onto the cushioned hotel bed.

He was trying this new thing where he didn't pick a fight with John at every turn. Results were so-so because Bucky Egan was infuriating even when not in the crease.

"Hadn't even started yet, actually."

Hooligang bursts into its opening chords before John makes his way over to his phone and taps pause, other hand fisted to keep his towel secured across his muscled waist.

"What's up Buck"

Gale knows John's amused by the rhyme. Knows it's a Looney Tunes thing, knows John was childish as they come despite his man's body

"My stream isn't working." Gale says miserably.

John stares at him for several long moments, face going through an array of emotions before settling on incredulity.

"Ice cold bitch Gale Cleven, who would instate a swear jar if he could get away with it, who helps old ladies across the street. Who goes faint at the mention of the word anal-"

"Okay-" Gale says, his cheeks coloring.

"Who can make a short-handed goal on one skate with no help and walk it off like it's nothing, is getting mad because he can't watch the Habs game."

"They fuckin' runsed us last time. Skated fucking circles around me John."

"Imagine, King Cleven not dominating the ice for one game." John drawls, coming around to the side of the bed Gale was draped over.

Gale looks up at him, water dripping of John's curls and splattering on Gale's forehead. The angle makes him blush, his heartrate kick up and his body stirs interest.

"We're playing them tomorrow."

"We're playing the Ducks tonight."

"Oh the Ducks," Gale snorts.

John grins down at him. There's a bulge in the front of his towel, clearly also having taken notice of the angle.

'Why dont you," John murmurs, reaching down to tangle in the long waves of Gale's hair, "Learn how to relax a bit."

"Fuck off." Gale snaps, but his fingers reach to untuck the end of John's towel, letting it fall to the floor.

John grips himself, pressing against the curve of Gale's cheek. He drags his head across the wet seam of Gale's lips letting the salty taste of his pre trickle down to Gale's tongue.

"yeah," John sighs, head falling back. A Grecian god in the afternoon light, "lets do something about that mouth of yours saint Cleven."

Gale lifts his head and swallows John down

thank you @1343-40 for the linguistics help LOL

[saintmurd0ck]

🍿 absently braiding matt's hair as he works on lawyerly stuff and you can tell he hates it but he refuses to admit it for the sake of your feelings

ahhhhhhh how cute is this!!!!! omfg 🥺

let's have a sleepover at mine!

just like college | matt murdock x reader

“Matty,” you pout, pulling up a chair next to him, “are you done yet?”

He bites his lip, fingers gliding to a stop at the top of his deposition reading. His tone is firm, but still, you hear the tenderness in his voice. “Not yet, sweetheart.”

You purse your lips, running a hand through his hair. “I missed you today.”

He turns his head to face you, tilting his chin downwards as he offers you a shy smile. “Why don’t you sit here with me? I promise you’ll have all my attention when I’m done.” The way he enunciates 'all' curls around your spine, dull ache settling between your thighs.

A dreamy smile blossoms on your face as you move behind him, digging your fingers into his scalp, pressing against his temples; against all the spots he carries tension in. He lets out a furtive moan, settling in his chair as his fingers begin to move across the deposition again. It’s therapeutic; the soft texture of his chestnut brown hair between your fingers, freshly washed and so fluffy, the light, barely-there fragrance of his shampoo wafting through the air. 

You start at the top, just a little bit off-centre, finger-combing his hair back until the strands are easy enough for you to grab on to. As your lovesick haze washes over you, your deft fingers move with a mind of their own, twisting and weaving little sections of hair, crossing them over and under.

Matt pauses his reading again, but this time you notice his fingernails going white, from the way the Braille dots press firmly into the pads of his sensitive fingertips. You notice how his shoulders go tense, and the tiniest flicker of a muscle in his jaw. He’s… annoyed?

You let go of the braid you’ve created to rub his shoulders, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek as you ask him what’s wrong. He refuses to admit anything.

“Matty,” you start, raising your eyebrows, “tell me, or I’ll put another in your hair.”

He shakes his head as he tips his head towards the ceiling. “It’s just– you’re doing what Foggy used to do in college. He used to braid his own hair, when he was stressed” – Matt chuckles fondly – “and when he ran out of space, he’d come do it to me.”

You almost burst at the seams trying to stifle your laughter. “Here, how about I rub your shoulders until you’re done?”

He grins at his deposition, reaching behind him to grab your hand. “Yeah sweetheart, that’s better.”

[shewritesallnight]

Crime & Punishment

Inumaki has always been a prankster but what happens when it’s time for him to take the punishment for his crimes…

Rating: 18+, NSFW

Listen we’ve been through this before with TWST. It’s Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College. We go with college ages here. No minors. K thnx. Bye.

Inumaki's headboard keeps digging into her shoulder blade, but she can't be bothered to move. She couldn’t, even if she wanted to, not with the cursed speech user's body caging her in. 

They've been at this for a while, YN drinking from his lips as she pleases; taking her time to pull the sorcerer apart by the seams.

One hand forcefully grips the back of his neck, the other fists his cock while he straddles her lap. Her tongue tangles with Toge's, swallowing his wanton sounds as his hips rut against her. 

His shirt has long since been discarded, along with hers. His hands caress her breasts through the lace of her bra. Wanting and waiting for permission to remove the article of clothing.

Inumaki's forehead touches hers, their breaths mingling, as he comes up for air.

"You were so mean earlier," she huffs, giving a rough stroke to his cock.

He leans forward whining into her mouth. 

"...pranking me in front of the first years like that." She turns her head to the side, pulling her lips from his.

Toge mutters a soft "okaka" against her cheek, shaking his head.

"What do you mean, no?" She clicks her tongue at him and flicks her wrist.

He cries out, hands pawing at her chest again, wanting to feel the warmth of her skin. If he had known his punishment would be this tortuous, he wouldn't have set up that little water balloon trap for her. 

At least, in the haze of desire he feels, he thinks he wouldn't have.

He doesn't know how long she’s been toying with him, bringing him to the cusp of ecstasy only to rip it from him at the last possible moment. Over and over again.

"If you want something, you'll have to tell me what it is."

The statement makes Toge's stomach churn because she knows. She knows he can't say it. He can't say anything. 

She's the one being mean and it only makes him want her more.

His mouth touches everything it can, kissing, licking, sucking, nipping-- anything to prevent the forbidden words from slipping out; the pleas, the begging, the demands, the curse.

Despite the everyday dangers of being a curse user, Inumaki swears YN will be the death of him.

He lets out a strangled moan at her temple as her thumbnail grazes over his slit. An almost inaudible "please," manages to escape.

"Oh my, does my pretty boy want to cum?" 

Toge drops his head and whimpers against the column of her throat. His cock twitching at her words.

"Don't hide," she tugs the hair at his nape. "I love to hear those pretty sounds of yours."

She brings his lips back to hers for a kiss and quickens the pace of her hand.

"But. I. Don't. Know. If. You. Deserve. It." She emphasizes each word with a steady stroke. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down.

He's sorry. He really is.

Just please, please let him cum, he wants to scream.

"Let me hear you, baby."

He bucks into her hand, ready to burst. He swears he really will die.

"Pl-please," he chances again, his voice raw and cracking with desperation.

She grins, pleased. 

"Then cum," YN captures his mouth with hers once more.

And, as if she's the one with the cursed speech, Toge's world implodes. 

His entire body shudders as he falls to her command. He's gasping for air, crying against her lips while she milks him of everything. 

As she releases his cock, he leans his forehead back against hers, panting and basking in the sudden weightlessness he feels.

When she finally removes the thin barrier of lace, tossing it away, she tells him to lick her clean. He glances down at his cum spread across her chest and thinks that maybe his punishment wasn't all that bad.

Groaning against the softness of her chest, he can only imagine what her reaction will be next time. The thought makes his cock twitch against her, mind whirling with possible ideas, as his mouth finds her nipple.

[lilac-vapor]

Evisceration

Rating: E 18+

Word Count: 1.3k

Pairing: Sebastian/Female Reader (3rd person, but unnamed and undescribed)

A/N: Find me on Ao3 under Bounteous

She wanted him in the way fires raze entire forests.

Protego!

The force propels her backward, her feet digging into the dirt.

Stupefy!

She’s already forgotten their face before they’ve fallen unconscious.

Glacius! Diffindo!

Arguably her favorite combination. A melting mixture of water and blood trails pink rivulets into the cobblestone; torso and legs parallel like crude renditions of scarecrows. The tip of her wand sizzles and cracks, itching for more fight. It’s nearly sentient, like an extension of the worst parts of herself. 

Shaking, she struggles to lower her arm and relax her grip. There’s no more. Only herself alone in the night and she rarely raises her wand to herself anymore. 

No?

Whimpering shatters her silence. Boots crunch bone and debris, stopping before a mangled hand outstretched toward a wand just barely out of reach. Pitifully sad. His face is terrified, pained. She kneels, presses the tip of her wand against his temple.

A brilliant burst of green light blinds her very eyes, reignites the fire in them. A perfectly wordless incantation of pure intent. A witch without regret clawing from the inside out. No, she cares not at all.

Naught except him.

She flies through the night, storm clouds rolling and thundering in the distance. White-knuckling her broom handle, it’s all she can do not to slip sideways and plummet to her death. The Forbiden Forrest stretches out and over before her, the fiery embers of her bristles skimming and smouldering the very tips of the trees. She smiles, free of inhibition and brimming with magic that numbs the mind and dulls the senses.

His home is nothing but a hovel on the outside; a decrepit, old thing that appears on the verge of imploding. No Floo Flame for invited guests, anti-apparition charms spread out fifty feet in every possible direction. He’s cautious, wary of intruders, protective of his rights against the Ministry.

Her heels drag, her legs shake, her abdomen stutters with leaden breaths. But the desire coursing through her veins keeps her alive and driven. She stumbles, grunts with pain and anger tangled together, steadies herself against the low, stone fence. The door swings open, groaning.

Sebastian, brows narrowed and eyes deadly and wand held within a tight, weathered grip, simply sighs. She looks up at him, her silhouette dangerously beautiful as a flash of lightning arcs between the treetops. Thunder rumbles thereafter, and she curls her lip in agitation, the hand gripping her side tightening.

“I don’t need healing, I need distraction. Fuck me or fuck off.”

His head tilts, lips smirking. “You’re at my doorstep, darling. I should leave you out here for ignoring me for weeks only to come back looking like shite, hoping for a shag to wash away your sins.”

She smirks in kind, blooding dripping down her chin and Sebastian, mesmerized, watches its path of ruin. “Don’t act like you aren’t imagining me split open on your kitchen table right now.”

He takes a step close and his calloused hand, one that’s cursed far more than her and his uncle, tilts her chin up between thumb and forefinger. “You’re fucked up, you know that?”

She always gets what she wants. “You’re fucked up too.” It’s whispered in between lips, in between the ghosting of mingled breath and a history of piled bodies.

She pushes him inside and merely waves two fingers to the slam the door shut.

Their kisses are slick with spit and blood, deadly with desire and other unbidden things they fear to speak of. Though they could simply magic their clothes away, it’s thrilling and primal to rip away shirt buttons and hike up skirts and rip jagged holes down seams.

Sebastian can’t stop his hands from crushing her breasts, pinching and twirling her nipples painfully. And she certainly can’t help the way her mouth trails maroon down chin, down jaw, biting purple marks and drawing more bright red blood from the column of his pretty throat. 

They aim to harm and be harmed, to hurt the way they hurt. 

She throws him onto the couch, his shirt spilling open from where she’d pried the buttons loose. Angry marks from her nails swell across his freckled, heaving chest. Sebastian stares with half-lidded eyes, fingers bunching up at his thighs, a tent in his pants. She kicks off her boots, wrenches herself out of her skirts, and pulls the rest over her head. As she stands before Sebastian, all that’s left of modesty is her tights ripped all to hell by his hands. 

“You should drink—” he starts, breathless and concerned.

“Shut up,” she interrupts, fed up with men’s chivalry and faux solicitude, “all I need is you inside me.” Her legs ache as she sits atop him. “Right now.”

She pulls out his member and sinks onto him without preamble. She sighs and he groans and though it rightfully burns in her legs, her thighs, her core, she keeps her rhythm fast and hard because absolutely nothing will stop her from getting her release. 

Sebastian laps at her neck, dragging his teeth along the tendons straining with her screams. One hand grips a bouncing breast and the other paints a pretty bruise onto her arse. 

He moans vibrations unto her blushing skin, flexing and twitching at the feeling of her fluttering around him. She falters, bruised and battered legs giving out, and he can sense the violent, billowing fury boiling over. 

Sebastian lifts her with the ease of a man given far too much trust, twists her up and over the arm of the couch. The planes of his stomach, his chest, press against her purple-blotted back. He reaches around to grasp at her throat, whispering hotly in her ear, “Let me.”

And he slams into her so hard that she barely catches herself from toppling over onto the floor.

“Oh, fuck!”

He’s brutal and ruthless and unbearable in every way she wanted him to be. His thrusts are harsh, painful in a way only he knows how to be. She lets her head droop into the pillow of her arms, eyes glazing over and body going pliant. And when his hand tightens, her throat constricting, she says not a damn word of complaint. Merely keens and whimpers beneath him.

Sebastian can’t catch a fucking break, letting her circles around him like this. He falls prey to her demands every single time. A quick shag against a tree. A blowjob in the bar’s loo. Her, delectable and enticing, spread before him as he returns home.

She riles him up like no other.

He growls, lips curling, teeth clenching, and lifts her. One hand keeping her breathless and the other finding her clit to get this shit done and over with. Something hot and sticky trails over the hand he’s wrapped around her throat, and he realizes it’s blood from the way she’s bit her lip so hard. Some deep, unbidden, primal part of him wants to lick up and kiss it back into her. 

She screams as she comes undone, voice hoarse and raw, and Sebastian keeps pounding her through it, chasing after his own release. And when he finds it, his seed shooting into her, he, too, screams. 

They stay there for a moment, catching their breath, their knees rubbed red before Sebastian pushes her away. They both wince when he removes himself, and he squeezes his eyes shut, calming himself, as he watches his cum immedately drip out of her. Meanwhile, she stays slumped over, riding the high of Sebastian’s ministrations, entirely unbothered at the way he clearly wants her gone.

But he says absolutely nothing. Merely buttons his pants and slams his bedroom door shut.

[togrowoldinv]

The Flame

Chris Evans x Female Reader

At a wedding in your hometown, you run into your old high school flame. Chris meets your daughter and he meets you again. Has the fire went out between the two of you?

Note: I randomly got this idea listening to an old country song lol. I hope y’all enjoy it!

Chris Evans Masterlist, Main Masterlist

You look around the room, ignoring the hustle and bustle of the crowd around you. Your eyes are searching for one particular person and you find her standing next to a man and talking to him.

You approach them quickly and hear an unmistakably familiar voice coming from the man.

“Mama, hi!” Your daughter interrupts the man and runs to your arms.

“Hi sweetheart,” you say as you lift her up into your arms. She’s smiling incredibly wide and bursting at the seams with a sugar rush.

The man turns around at the sound of your voice to find the owner. It’s Chris. The Chris you used to be hopelessly in love with.

“Y/n?” He asks. It has been years since you’ve seen him, but here he is standing right here in front of you.

“Chris,” you say. There are no other words forming in your mind right now.

You didn’t know if you’d ever see him again. He left in such a hurry that last night you were together. Chris was going to LA to act. You were staying in Boston to go to school and start a career of your own. It was simple really. You had to split ways for each of your own sakes.

But you never forgot how much you loved Chris. You’re pretty sure you haven’t stopped loving him.

“I can’t believe I ran into you here,” Chris says.

“Yeah, it’s crazy,” you say. “I didn’t realize you’d kept in touch with everyone here.”

“Only a handful, but enough to be here. How are you? How have you been?” Chris asks you.

“Oh, I’ve been good. Got married, had a daughter, got divorced. That’s pretty much it,” you say with a dry laugh.

“So, this is your daughter?” He gestures to the girl who he was talking to that now rests in your arms.

“Yeah. Can you say hi to Mr. Chris, baby?” you ask her.

“Mama, I already talked to him,” she replies simply.

“You can still say hi. Please?”

“Hi Mr. Chris,” your daughter blurts out. You kiss her temple and she smiles.

With that, your cousin walks by and notices you talking to Chris, so she takes your daughter off to play with the other kids.

“She’s adorable, y/n,” Chris compliments. He watches as your daughter runs around the event hall. It stirs something deep in his gut. He always imagined himself being the father of your children.

“She’s the best,” you say. “What’s up with you? I mean other than being a superhero.”

“Not much else. I’ll be in town for a while I think. I’ve missed it here,” and after a pause he adds “I’ve missed you.”

You feel your heart still longing for him and the fire burns deep.

“I’ve missed you too, Chris. It’s been years, but I still feel like it was just yesterday when we were together,” you say. You’re a little surprised at yourself for admitting to him how much you missed him.

“It does, doesn’t it? I really haven’t- you know- really been serious with anyone else since we broke up. Is that crazy?” Chris asks. He lets out a shy laugh. You smile remembering how often he used to get shy on everyone.

“It’s not crazy. I only dated my ex-husband and well we can see how that turned out,” you say matter of factly.

“Well, he’s a fool for losing you,” Chris says.

“I left him, actually. Things weren’t right. We both knew it, but I was the one willing to leave. Staying for our daughter wasn’t worth it anymore. He’s a good guy and a great dad. You’d probably like him,” you explain.

“Ah, maybe,” Chris says.

“I kind of thought we’d end up getting married and having kids. Me and you,” you say.

“Me too.”

The air gets thicker around you and Chris at those confessions. You both knew you felt it, but hearing it said out loud is completely different.

“Would you like to dance?” Chris says, breaking some of the tension. He offers you his hand which you take as you move to the dance floor.

Immediately, the warmth of Chris hits you with a wave of nostalgia. You dance close, but not too close. With each verse, you get more comfortable together again and by the end you’re laughing and enjoying yourself for the first time in a long time.

After a few songs, your daughter comes up to you and wants more cake. You tell her it’s actually getting late and you better go. She sighs, but lets you carry her to find your ride. Your cousin isn’t ready to leave yet, and daughter is getting sleepier by the minute.

“Hey, I can give you guys a ride. If you want?” Chris asks you. You’d left him behind on the dance floor to tend to your daughter. He understood, of course.

“Really?”

“Absolutely,” Chris replies.

He walks out of the building with the two of you and opens the doors of his car. You thank him as he helps you get your daughter buckled in.

The drive to your house is quiet. Your daughter falls asleep by the time you get there.

“May I?” Chris asks as you go to lift her out of the car. It’s not that he doesn’t think you can lift her, but that he wants to help. It makes your heart flutter.

You let him pick up your daughter and carry her inside to her bed. Once she’s settled in, you kiss her goodnight and close her door behind you.

Chris is standing on the living room looking at photos that line the walls.

“Look at us,” he says, gesturing to one of your friend group from high school.

“We were just babies,” you remark. “Hey, thanks for helping with her. It means a lot.”

“Oh yeah, no problem. I should probably get going,” he says.

“Yeah,” you agree. He starts walking towards the door, but you realize you don’t want him to leave. “Chris- wait-“

He turns around immediately and walks towards you. He stops just inches from your lips and you nod before he connects his lips with yours.

Years of passion, of longing, of loving comes together in the touch of his lips against yours.

The scratch of his newly graying beard brushes against your face and you smile into the kiss. It’s a different feeling. It’s a perfect feeling.

“I still love you,” Chris says once he pulls away for air.

“I still love you too, Chris.”

And deep within, your fire still burns for each other. The flame never went out.

Tag List: @gracebutnotgraceful @i-wished-for-you-too @idkwhygregg @be-missed @mythosphere-x @hehehehannahthings @likefirenrain @mrswidowjohansson @natashasilverfox @rach2602 @cordyandbilliehavemyheart @raajali3 @sarahdonald87 @pandaxnienke @mrspeacem1nusone @wandas-slut-heart @patzammit @charmingprincess @randomwriter1021

[dee-writes-smut]

MY ENDLESS LOVE

FEATURING boyfriend!Steve Harrington x f!Mayfeild/Hargrove reader

CONTENT WARNING near death experience, sad stuff, angst, mentions of PTSD, crying steve

SUMMARY Vecna's curse enlightens you to the endless love you have for your boyfriend

AUTHORS NOTE this is shit. Like actual shit, but its kinda cute?

“Oh god!” I could hear Dustin's voice, distant but frantic, as he panted and screamed my name. His hands gripped my shoulders, shaking me desperately, trying to pull me back from the brink. But it was too late. Time had slipped through our fingers like sand. The enemy was going to win, and I was going to die.

I didn't want to die. Not now, not like this. I wanted to live—to see the future I had always imagined with him. I wanted to wake up every morning to his smile, to build a life together. I dreamed of us having a house filled with the laughter of our children, chaotic and joyful. I envisioned family vacations in a van bursting at the seams, every inch of space filled with love and noise. I saw myself in the throes of motherly frustration, tearing my hair out over spilled milk and sibling squabbles, but loving every moment of it.

More than anything, I wanted more time. More time to share lazy Sunday mornings wrapped in his arms. More time to explore the world together, discovering new places and creating memories. More time to argue over trivial things, only to make up and fall in love all over again. I wanted more time to love him, fully and completely. And I wanted more time for him to love me, to see us grow old together, weathering life's storms hand in hand.

But those weren't the cards I was dealt. Fate had other plans, and now, lying here with the weight of impending doom pressing down on me, I realized I needed to take you back to where it all began. You need to understand the journey that brought me to this moment. The choices, the sacrifices, the battles fought and lost. Let me take you back to the start, so you can truly grasp how I ended up here, on the edge of losing everything I held dear.

MARCH 17, 1986

“Babe!” I call from the kitchen, the pounding in my head so intense I can barely think. There's a rush of thumping footsteps from the floor above, and then, suddenly, my gorgeous boyfriend is standing in the doorway.

“Yeah?” Steve asks softly as he steps into the kitchen, walking toward me until he’s close enough to wrap me in his calming embrace.

“Do you have any Tylenol?” I sigh, allowing myself to melt into his embrace. His touch eases some of the tension in my throbbing skull, but the ache remains intense, bringing tears to my eyes.

“Yeah, I’ll get it. Are you okay?” Steve sounds worried as he runs his fingers gently through my hair.

“Just a headache, no big deal.” I smile and pull away from his arms. Steve's face scrunches in uncertainty, confused by my sudden distance. I quickly grab the two small pills from his outstretched hand and toss them back, dry-swallowing them. “I’ve got work in ten, so I’m outta here. I’ll see you later tonight.” I lie, pressing a quick peck on his lips before leaving the house.

As I start the car, I let out a long sigh. I hate lying to Steve, but ever since Billy, I can't help but blame myself. If I hadn’t been such a coward, my twin brother would still be here. Instead of rushing to his aid, I grabbed Max and watched as that thing took him away from us. The guilt gnaws at me, an ever-present shadow.

I drive through Hawkins, the small town seemingly unchanged despite the chaos that has unraveled my life. The familiar streets and quaint houses pass by in a blur as memories flood my mind—Billy and I racing our bikes, sneaking out late at night, sharing secrets and dreams. Now, all those memories are tainted by the haunting image of his final moments.

Pulling up to my trailer, I stagger into the tiny home, only to be jolted from my reverie by the blaring ringtone of the landline. I groan, rubbing my temples in a futile attempt to soothe the ache, and answer the phone.

“Hello ma’am, this is the Hawkins High School counselor calling.” A woman's voice informs me, and I inwardly sigh. Max.

“Hi,” I respond flatly, my head throbbing as I yearn to get to the woods and meet my dealer.

“Is this Ms. Mayfield-Hargrove? I have you listed as Max Mayfield’s primary caregiver.” Ah, yes. After Billy's death, my birth father (Max’s stepdad) left Hawkins, leaving Max’s mom to care for her. When Susan spiraled into alcoholism, unable to cope with her stepson's death, I took Max in, went to court, and gained custody. She moved in with me and Steve. Max completely shut down after Billy's death, and communication with her became impossible until the school called, asking for permission to check in on her weekly after her "tragic loss." Allowing them to talk to her seemed like the best way to keep an eye on her without invading her space. So, I agreed. Now, I get monthly check-ins from the school, providing a small measure of comfort despite her distance from me. At least she’s communicating with someone.

“Yes, this is she. Who are you?” I ask, noting that this woman doesn’t sound like the usual bored office ladies.

“Oh! My name is Ms. Kelly. I've been counseling Max.” Oh god, the counselor herself is reaching out to me. This can't be good.

“What’s up? Is Max okay?”

“Well, that’s the issue. When I called her into my office yesterday, I managed to drag some information out of her. Apparently, she has been experiencing headaches and nosebleeds. I think her trauma is starting to physically affect her, which is quite worrisome.” Funny, I’ve been experiencing the same symptoms. I wonder if Max has been having nightmares too.

“Alright, what can I do to help?” I ask, though I wonder if there’s anything I can truly do. Maybe she’s blaming herself for Billy’s death like I am. But it wasn’t her fault—there was no way she could have freed herself from the iron grip I had on her. As Ms. Kelly drones on with suggestions, my mind begins to wander into a dark place where Billy’s voice whispers in my ear.

“What’s wrong? Feeling guilty for having a part in my murder? Well,” Billy tsks, his voice as sharp and cold as I remember it. “We can’t have that now, can we? Own it. You didn’t try to save me. Not even after I called for you. No, you just sat there and held our stepsister. You are a sick, sick woman, sis.” He spits his nickname for me, sending chills cascading down my spine.

“No!” I scream, suddenly finding myself in the woods instead of the kitchen. How the hell did I get here? I take a seat on the picnic table where I usually wait for Eddie to show up, holding my head in my hands.

The familiar sounds of the forest surround me, birds chirping and leaves rustling in the gentle breeze. The cool air helps to clear my head a bit, but the sense of unease remains. Eddie is late, which isn’t unusual, but today it grates on my nerves more than usual. I need my fix to numb the pain and drown out Billy's voice.

As I sit there, waiting, my thoughts drift back to Max. She’s been through so much, and I feel like I’ve failed her too. After Billy's death, she shut down completely, her once vibrant spirit now cloaked in a heavy shroud of grief. I try to be there for her, but she’s closed off, retreating into herself. The school counselor's calls are my only lifeline to understanding what she’s going through.

The sun begins to set, casting long shadows through the trees. I pull my jacket tighter around myself, shivering more from the memories than the cold. I remember the last time I saw Billy alive, the terror in his eyes, and the helplessness I felt. It’s a memory that haunts me day and night, a constant reminder of my failure.

Finally, I hear the sound of a motorcycle approaching. Eddie pulls up, his usual carefree demeanor replaced by a concerned frown when he sees me.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, dismounting and walking over to me.

“Yeah, just a rough day,” I reply, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

Eddie hands me a small bag, and I quickly tuck it into my pocket. “If you ever need to talk, you know where to find me,” he says, his tone uncharacteristically serious.

“Thanks, Eddie. I appreciate it.” I manage a small smile, though it doesn’t reach my eyes.

As he rides away, I sit there for a while longer, trying to gather the strength to face the rest of the day. I think about Steve and how worried he must be, how much I hate lying to him. I think about Max and how desperately I want to help her, even if I don’t know how.

Eventually, I stand up, brushing the dirt off my jeans. I start walking back to my car, each step feeling heavier than the last. The night is falling, and the woods are growing darker, but the real darkness is inside me, a gnawing emptiness that I can’t seem to fill.

As I drive back home, the radio plays softly in the background, but I barely hear it. My mind is consumed with thoughts of Billy, Max, and Steve. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to move past this guilt, if I’ll ever be able to forgive myself.

When I finally pull into the driveway, I sit in the car for a few moments, taking deep breaths to steady myself. I need to put on a brave face for Steve, to pretend that everything is okay even when it’s not. I walk into the house, greeted by the warm light and the comforting smell of dinner cooking.

Steve looks up from the stove, his expression lighting up when he sees me. “Hey, you’re back! How was work?”

“It was fine,” I lie, forcing a smile. “What’s for dinner?”

MARCH 21, 1986

The revelation hit me like a brick last night: Eddie Munson, my oddball dealer with a heart of gold, tangled up in murder rumors. It seems absurd, the kind of gossip that churns through Hawkins with the regularity of a bad sitcom rerun. But there it was, whispered in hushed tones at the edge of the night, coloring every interaction with a shade of doubt.

Now, as I navigate through my day, there's a tight coil of anxiety buried deep in my chest. Not just about Eddie—whose eccentric charm and relentless heavy metal advocacy hardly paint the picture of a killer—but about my secret dealings with him. I'm wrapped up in this now, whether I like it or not.

Inside the car, the atmosphere is a mixture of teenage angst and my own growing irritation. Dustin, ever the energetic spirit, manages to kick the back of my seat one too many times, snapping the thin thread of my patience.

“Henderson! I swear to God if you kick my seat one more time I’m throwing you on the side of the road and you can walk to Family Video!” The words fly out sharper than intended, mirroring the pounding in my skull.

“Sorry! Geez, someone has a stick up their butt today,” he mutters, a touch defensively, earning a light smack on the back of his head. I’m not usually this snappy, but with Eddie missing and my stash dwindling, my usual buffers against stress are paper-thin.

We arrive at Family Video, and I park the car with a bit more force than necessary. Dustin’s voice breaks through my fog of discomfort.

“Hey, are you alright?” He's looking at me with those wide, innocent eyes full of concern. It’s enough to soften the edges of my mood, at least momentarily.

“Of course, dork. Let’s go see your boyfriend,” I tease, masking my turmoil with a forced chuckle as we head into the store.

“He’s not mine, that is all your business over there,” Dustin shoots back with a grin, lightening the mood as we walk through the door.

Steve, behind the counter and as oblivious as ever to the undercurrents of tension, greets us with a smile. Our banter flies over his head, leaving him puzzled but amused. "Huh?"

“Oh no! I don’t claim him, that is all you Henderson,” I laugh, trying to immerse myself in the normalcy of our jests. But then, the familiar warmth trickles down my nostril, pulling me back to a harsher reality.

“Babe, your nose is bleeding!” Steve’s concern is immediate as he rushes over, his hands reaching out to steady me.

I wave him off, more embarrassed than reassured, and head to the bathroom. Inside, I press a wad of tissue against my nose, staring at my reflection with a mix of frustration and fear. The stress of keeping my dealings with Eddie a secret, compounded by the physical symptoms that seem to mirror Max’s own troubling signs, is becoming too much.

The cool, flickering fluorescent light in the bathroom casts stark shadows across my face, deepening the hollows under my eyes and highlighting the fatigue that no amount of makeup can cover. As the bleeding slowly stops, I lean against the sink, taking deep, steadying breaths.

I can’t tell Steve about Eddie—not just because of the drugs, but because dragging him into this mess could put him at risk too. Hawkins, for all its sleepy town charm, has a darkness that clings stubbornly to the edges of everyday life, and I can't shake the feeling that this is all spiraling towards something bad.

Stepping out of the bathroom, I plaster on a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. Steve is there, his expression a mix of concern and love, ready to envelop me in his arms.

“Let’s get what we came for and head home,” I suggest, trying to sound more upbeat than I feel.

As we browse the aisles, Dustin chattering away about the latest horror flick he wants to rent, I can't help but feel the weight of all the secrets I'm carrying. Every laugh, every light moment feels overshadowed by the nagging thought of Eddie, the rumors, and the very real problems lurking just beneath the surface of our little town.

The day drags on, each moment tinged with the dull ache of my headache and the sharper sting of guilt. As much as I want to confide in Steve, to share the burden, I know I have to keep these shadows to myself, at least for now.

MARCH 23, 1986

The air in the small office room felt heavy with anticipation as Max beckoned me inside. I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that had settled in the pit of my stomach, but I followed her lead, my senses on high alert.

“What's up? Did you find something?” My voice was strained with worry as I approached her, scanning the room for any signs of danger.

“Look.” Max's tone was grave as she motioned toward the files spread out on the desk before her. Each one told a chilling story: Chrissy Cunningham, Fred Benson, and Maxine Mayfield—three students with eerily similar symptoms: post-traumatic stress, headaches, nosebleeds, nightmares. A shiver ran down my spine as the pieces began to fall into place.

“Chrissy and Fred were both killed by Vecna. I think these are the warning signs that he is targeting them,” Max explained, her voice low with concern.

“Max,” I said, my voice trembling despite my efforts to remain composed, “I want you to bring Dustin in here. Do not let Steve come with you. I mean it.” The urgency in my tone was palpable, fueled by the fear of what might happen if Steve were to find out.

Max hesitated, sensing the gravity of the situation, but she nodded and left the room. Moments later, she returned with Dustin in tow, a look of urgency etched on her face.

“Okay, we don’t have long because Steve is kinda freaking out,” she said, pulling Dustin into the room with her.

“I am going to tell you two something, and you aren’t going to breathe a word of it to Steve. Do you understand?” I met their eyes, my own filled with a mixture of fear and determination.

Two solemn nods were all the confirmation I needed before I confessed, “I have Vecna’s curse.”

The room fell silent, the weight of my revelation hanging in the air like a thick fog.

“You have what?!” Steve's voice echoed from the entryway, shock and disbelief evident in his tone.

“Oh shit,” Max whispered, her complexion draining of color.

“I’m sorry, but he wouldn’t let me go without following behind,” Dustin winced, bracing himself for my reaction.

“I can’t fucking believe you right now!” I exclaimed, my frustration and fear bubbling to the surface as I turned my glare from Dustin to Steve. “There is a reason I didn’t want you to know, Steve! You can’t just bully a child into letting you eavesdrop! Where is your trust in me? In our relationship?!”

“That is not what this is about and you fucking know that! You were just going to let yourself be killed and not say anything?” Steve's voice cracked with emotion, his eyes glistening not with anger but with hurt.

“I didn’t want our last days spent under this dark cloud,” I sighed, the fight draining from me.

“Well, you aren’t going to die. Neither of you are because we are going to figure out a way to save you,” Steve declared, his voice filled with fierce determination.

“Steve,” I managed through my tears, the reality of my situation washing over me in waves, “you can’t fix this.”

“Yes! Yes, I can,” he insisted, stepping close to wipe away my tears with the gentlest touch, his voice firm yet breaking. “You can’t die. I won’t let you.”

In that moment, surrounded by the stark walls of the school office and bathed in the harsh fluorescent light, the intensity of our predicament settled in. His promise, so full of resolve, felt both comforting and heartbreakingly futile.

MARCH 24, 1986

"What are they doing?" Dustin's voice cuts through the tense atmosphere, his gaze bouncing between Max and me, then back to Steve and Lucas. Their eyes are fixed on us with a mix of concern and anticipation, as if they're waiting for something monumental to happen.

Max finishes sealing the last envelope, her hands trembling slightly, a testament to the gravity of our situation. "You done?" she asks me, her voice steady despite the underlying tension.

"Yeah," I reply softly, adding my final letter to the stack. "Good idea, by the way," I offer, trying to break the heavy silence. But Max remains silent, her eyes distant as she hands out the envelopes to the boys. I follow her lead, passing one to Dustin and another to Lucas. Steve watches, confusion evident on his face, realizing there's no letter for him.

Before anyone can react, Max intervenes, stopping the boys from opening the envelopes. "Don't!" she insists firmly, her tone brooking no argument.

"They're for after… you know," I explain, attempting to ease the tension, though I'm not sure if it's for their benefit or ours.

"You're not dying," Steve declares with fierce conviction, his eyes locking onto mine. "Nancy and Robin are going to find something, a solution. You both are going to be fine."

"We know. It's just a failsafe," Max reassures him, though her voice betrays her uncertainty. I share her doubt; the letters are more a precaution than a solution.

Max interrupts any further protests by announcing, "I need a ride to the cemetery," and without waiting for Steve's response, she grabs her jacket and heads for the door.

Despite Steve's objections and Max's stubbornness, we all end up piling into the car and making our way to the cemetery. Once there, Max and I step out, leaving the boys behind. As we walk towards our destination, I hear Lucas calling out to Max, but I keep moving forward.

"I'll talk to him first," I tell Max, giving her a reassuring smile before parting ways. I slip a letter into her pocket before heading to Billy's grave, my heart heavy with the weight of what's to come.

Settling down in front of Billy's headstone, I take a deep breath and open the letter, my hand trembling as I begin to read aloud.

"Dear Billy, I was a coward, and you died because of it. It's my fault, and I should have tried harder. I think it was because I was scared, or maybe I thought you deserved it. Some sick sort of karma after all the abuse I had to endure after mom died. I’m sorry. You deserved better, and I should have tried harder. Now, I am getting the karma I deserve. Basically, what I’m trying to say is see you soon, little brother. I love you."

Tears blur my vision as I pour out my heart to him, my voice breaking with each word. Then, just as I finish, everything goes dark—a chilling prelude to Vecna's twisted vision.

In the darkness, I hear Billy's voice, taunting and accusing. His words cut through me like knives, reopening wounds I thought had healed.

"You're sorry, huh?" His laughter echoes in the void, haunting and cruel. "I don't think you are. You know what I think? I think you're grateful, glad that I'm dead."

"No!" I cry out, my voice raw with emotion as I try to defend myself, but he's relentless.

"You enjoyed it, didn’t you? You are one sick bitch," he sneers, his words laced with venom. I'm paralyzed, unable to escape the torment of his accusations.

"I loved you!" I plead, desperate to make him understand, but he refuses to listen.

"No, you didn’t! You never did!" His voice echoes in the darkness, a constant reminder of my failures.

And then, just as I think it can't get any worse, I witness the horror unfold before me once again—the fleshy tentacle piercing Billy, the grotesque manifestation of Vecna's power.

"Y/N, it’s time," Vecna's voice cuts through the darkness, his presence looming over me like a suffocating shadow. I'm trapped, helpless to resist as he reaches out with his twisted, clawed hand.

"Oh god!" Dustin's voice sounds distant, barely audible amidst the chaos of my mind. I want to reach out to him, to cry out for help, but it's too late. Vecna is closing in, and I'm powerless to stop him.

"Baby! Please, no! Come back to me, I can’t!" Steve's desperate cries pierce through the darkness, pulling at something deep within me. It's the sound of his voice, filled with love and desperation, that gives me the strength to fight back.

"My love," Steve whispers through tears, his voice trembling with emotion as he begins to sing "Endless Love," our song, our promise.

"My first love," Max joins in, her voice tinged with sorrow and regret. Then, one by one, Lucas and Dustin add their voices to the chorus, their song wrapping around me like a lifeline.

With every note, every word, I feel a flicker of hope ignite within me—a spark of defiance against Vecna's darkness. And as their voices fill the air, I find the strength to break free from his grip, to run towards the light, towards Steve.

As I reach him, battered and broken but alive, I collapse into his arms, his embrace a sanctuary amidst the chaos. "I love you," I whisper, clinging to him as if my life depends on it.

"Don’t ever fucking do that to me again. I can’t lose you, baby," Steve sobs, his voice breaking with the weight of his emotions.

"I won’t, I promise," I vow, my heart overflowing with love for him, for us.

"I love you," he murmurs, holding me close.

"And I you, my endless love."

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Dreamswept: Chapter Seven

Dreamswept: In which Dream’s imprisonment brings out his darker side. Y/N’s mother works for the Burgess’s as a nurse, and after stumbling across what is hidden beneath Fawny Rig’s mortars one summer, Y/N’s life will never be the same. A darkness has attached itself to her and no matter how long she is kept from the Endless in the basement, he has not forgotten her kindness and brief moments of comfort. No, he has not forgotten, and now he craves it. 

Warnings: Reader Get’s Gaslit, Dubious Petting/Kissing, Explicit Language.

To Note: Dark!Morpheus/Dream x Female!Reader, Inspired by 'Claiming His Queen' by @moonmaiden1996 (Go Read It!).

Word Count: ~2.5k

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Mother was still giving you the cold shoulder so you took it upon yourself to simply ignore her. You were sure that Paul and Alex could pick up on the tension between you, but neither of them spoke a word. Sipping from your teacup, you focused on the book in front of you, turning to the next page after reaching the end. You were trying to read but your mind kept going back to the dream you had last night… which made you brush your fingers over your lips. 

“Y/N/N, darling?” You blinked, pulling out of your inner thoughts before looking at Paul. He was looking at you over his spectacles. 

“Are you alright? You seem awfully distracted this morning, did you not sleep well?” You smiled and shook your head at Paul, not wanting to bother him with something as trivial as a dream. 

“It’s nothing, Paul, I just had an odd dream last night.” You explained shortly. Your mother, who had been in the middle of transferring a saucer from the table to the tea cart, dropped the little plate and it went crashing to the floor as all three of them looked at you with wide eyes. You blinked in confusion and rose in your seat to help clean up the broken plate. Mother harshly waved you off. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N, did you say you dreamed?” Alex questioned, his voice sharp as he looked at you like he had seen a ghost. You glanced at Paul who looked just as ill before addressing Alex. 

“Well, yes?” You answered as your mother quickly swept up the broken plate and practically fled from the room. You watched her receding form before continuing. “It was rather odd but nothing scary. I haven’t had a dream in years… but isn’t it normal for one to dream?”

“Not for you dear child,” Alex answered gruffly as Paul reached over and covered Alex’s trembling hand. “You do not dream! You are not supposed to dream! It’s far too dangerous for you.” You didn’t understand his words or why he thought that your dreaming was dangerous. 

“Don’t be ridiculous Alex, dreams aren’t—“

“You stopped taking your medication.” He stated, cutting you off. 

“That is hardly your concern, Alex,” You scoffed. “I have never in my life missed a dose.” Except for last night when you purposefully missed your dose. 

“Darling,” Paul started. You stood up from your seat and waved your hand. 

“Look, everyone has been acting strange since I arrived and I’ve had enough of it!” You exclaimed. “I love you, but I do not feel like you want me here!” Feeling like you were going to burst at the seams, you jerked your hands in the air in exasperation and all but fled the dining room. Rushing through the manor, you flew past mother as your eyes started to burn and continued out of the manor. Your feet took you across the grounds on their own, leading you deep into Paul’s beloved gardens. You only slowed down when you neared the gazebo, and stepping up into the worn wooden shelter, you took a seat at the bench. 

What had happened in the years you had been gone? 

You dropped your head in your hands as a new headache bloomed in your temples. There was an overwhelming feeling that mother, Paul, and Alex, were hiding something from you, and it had to do with your dreams. You vaguely recalled talking to a doctor as a child about nightmares… but when you tried to think of the time you spent in Fawny Rig as a child, your memories got blurry and your headache worsened. You laid down on the bench and covered your forehead with your hands, your teeth clenching together in pain. Eyes closed, you breathed slowly through the throbs of pain.

You were back in the strange forest, light fog lazily swirling around your feet. Looking up you saw that the sky overhead was not as dark and heavy as it had been previously. Something had changed here, you felt more comfortable, more at ease. Walking forwards, you padded along the creek, looking at the bubbling water. You found yourself wandering through the woods, trying to figure out why this place felt so familiar. You couldn’t.

“You’ve come back,” You didn’t know why you gasped as you spun in place. He was here last night so why was it surprising that he was here again? Pressing a hand against your suddenly racing heart, you regarded him carefully. His eyes still shone bright blue, showered with flecks of stars that seemed to fly by within his irises. And his hair, did he even own a hairbrush? You weren’t sure. 

“I don’t know why I’m here, so I don’t think that constitutes coming back. This wasn’t intentional.” You softly spoke, lowering your hand and rubbing your palm into your thigh. Then you crossed your arms and eyed him warily. “I don’t know what is going on and no one at home is telling me anything.” You huffed out, biting down on your lip nervously. “It’s like no one wanted me to return to Fawny Rig. If they didn’t want me back, why did they not tell me so before I moved my arse back to Wych Cross!” You almost had tears in your eyes and raised your palms to rub them into your eyes. He beat you to it. He was suddenly before you, his thumbs delicately bushing the beginnings of tears from your lashes. 

“Save your tears,” His voice was like velvet against your ears and his touch lingered along the curve of your face. Sniffing, you wiped at your eyes as more came, the emotions hitting you like a tidal wave and digging into your heart. 

“This is so bloody stupid,” You whispered, a strained chuckle emerging from your throat. “I didn’t cry when I broke up with my boyfriend from Uni, why am I crying now?” The hands upon your body tightened their grip. 

“Boyfriend? What boyfriend?” You sniffed once more and blinked in confusion. 

“You mean Evan? He was the boyfriend I had while at university,” you spoke quietly. “I broke up with him after he proved that he had little interest in me and was more interested in what I could do for him. He was a self-absorbed git who only cared for himself and his needs. I’m not interested in getting into another relationship after one like that.” 

“You took a lover?” The man commented, his voice dropping to a deathly quiet thunder, steeped with darkened anger that oozed from his pores. His eyes were glimmering with stars, but not bright ones, no, those stars were like black holes. They sucked you in until you were consumed and entranced. 

“I— I—“ You were sputtering your words, confused by his sudden change in demeanor. “What? Lover?”

“Yes, lover,” He growled at you, his hands gripping your body in an almost painful grip. You withheld a wince and looked at him with wide eyes. “Your blood has merged with the spell that holds me prisoner, and you agreed to give me your dreams. Does that not make you mine? You should not even think to entertain the idea of taking a lover outside of me.”

“I have no idea! I don’t even know what you are talking about!!” You exclaimed, fear sneaking its way up your spine. Why was he so mad at the thought of an ex-boyfriend? And had he really just suggested that the only lover you were allowed to take was him!? “Why do you even care!?”

“He put his hands on what is mine!” The man snarled darkly, his rage now consuming him. You were stumbling backward in fear, nearly tripping over your own feet. He advanced with your steps back, eyes soaked in possessive jealousy. Then you found yourself backed against a thick tree trunk. You opened your mouth to fire off a retort but then found yourself pinned in place with nowhere to go, a very irate man almost pressing against your body. You flushed and squirmed, pushing at him to put some space between your bodies. You had never been this close to someone and certainly not when they were looking at you like… that. “It seems that I need to give you a firm reminder of who you belong to, Y/N.” 

Your eyes widened in fear at what he might do, but shock was soon coursing through your veins when those lips, curved in a possessive sneer, roughly came down on yours. You let out a whimper which was quickly eaten by the man’s hungry mouth, then he sought to take more. You gasped this time, a shiver running down your spine as his teeth tugged your lips until you parted them with a small cry. He was kissing you so deeply, so possessively, that all thoughts of right or wrong escaped your mind and body… at least until hands started to rip and tug at your clothing. Your hips bucked against the offending appendages, twisting and turning to try and get away from the bedeviled fingers that made quick work of your jeans. Your hand came down to try and swat the hand tearing apart your jeans. You didn’t get very in your endeavor, his fingers quickly wrapping around your wrist and shoving it against the tree you were pinned to. 

Pain flared up your wrist and the proceeding exclamation of hurt that left your parted lips only gave him a chance to deepen the kiss. His tongue pushed against yours and you swore you could taste ecstasy, or at the very least, it's equivalent. Sinking back against a tongue that was twisting yours around and making your head spin with heat that you could feel everywhere, you sank your nails into his chest, pressing down in an attempt to ground yourself. It didn’t work. You felt like you were going to float away. He wasn’t going to let you though, no, he had every intention to ensure that you knew exactly who your body and soul belonged to. Him. For a moment he reached up to catch the back of your neck, pulling your head closer and sinking further into your sweet mouth. He was addicted to your taste and wished to devour you until all you could think about was him. That’s all you did need to think about. Your lovely, little breathy sounds that you panted out nearly made him inebriated on you. 

Your body’s silent urges and wants were conflicting with what you knew in your mind and it took everything you had to wrench yourself backward. Fervent lip lock broken, the back of your head cracked against the tree trunk momentarily stunning you. Heaving on your rapid breaths, you greedily sucked in oxygen as brightly glowing star-lit eyes bored down into yours. You were fully trembling now, your body shivering and quaking against his. But he wasn’t done with you yet, no, now that the taste of you was fresh on his tongue, he only wanted more. Releasing his hold on your neck, he pressed his hand flat against your stomach and pushed his fingers down in a determined path. Fingers shoved their way past your undone jeans and burrowed beneath the confines of your panties. 

A blazing eruption of sensations ripped through your cunt of the likes you have never felt before, not even when Evan had gotten overzealous with his touches. But this, this wasn’t just a wandering hand over your body, no, this was a hand that knew exactly what it wanted and was going to satisfy itself no matter what. You let out a yelp when fingers pushed through your folds and ardently stroked the very place between your thighs you had never dared to touch yourself. A little more pressure and you bucked against him once more, crying out as your face became insufferably hot. He seemed to feed off your reaction to his ministrations, leaning down to press his lips against your neck. Teeth raked against your skin and you squirmed harder, pushing firmly against his chest with your free hand. His body, pressed against yours, was like a solid titanium wall, unmoving and unbending.

You tried sucking in a deep breath, desperate for oxygen, but your attempts were in vain. One second he was content with brushing and stroking your cunt, and the next he was sinking a finger deep inside you. Toes curling in your shoes, you whimpered at the intrusion and foreign feeling. Every inch of your skin was on fire and now you were burning inside out from the finger sliding over your cunt to repeatedly plunge in and out of your body. Something churned deep within your gut, wanting to be released. It pushed at your resolve, clawed your fortification, and all but ripped away at your mind until you felt like your legs would give out beneath you. Feeling lips nip and tug their way up your neck, you trembled in place and abandoned your attempts to push him away. You dug your fingers into midnight strands.

“Please,” You rasped out, holding silken onyx in a shaky grasp. “Stop, I beg you, this isn’t— I can’t—“ You stuttered for words, feeling your thighs clench around his hand. That churning in your gut was now on the forefront and very hard to ignore. You moaned and clawed at his scalp, entirely at his mercy now. “Oh, what is happening!?” Just when you thought it would get to be too much, the hand forcefully drawing pleasure from you disappeared and lips brushed against yours as you hastily sucked in air, reeling in place. 

“Do you see how your body reacts to me, my love?” He whispered against your lips. “It knows who you belong to, it is eager to accept what it knows and longs for.” Your eyes burned and a rogue tear slipped from the corner of your eye. He gently brushed it away before kissing the trail left behind. “You don’t need to be afraid, I will only allow you to experience unadulterated pleasure when I am cradling your physical body within my arms and buried deep within you.” You choked on your next gasp of air, fully realizing what he meant by his words. Panic started setting in and your flight instincts became prevalent. Jerking in place, the last thing you saw was his intense blue eyes echoing his words in all seriousness. 

Lurching into a sitting position on the bench you had fallen asleep on, you pressed a hand against your chest and tried to quell the rising panic you felt. It was only just a dream. Certainly. You shifted in place and became aware of how damp your panties now felt. In fact, your entire body felt just as it had in that forest, overwhelmed with unknown touches. He was just a dream. A dream you were now certain you had to do something about.

Date Published: 11/2/22

Last Edit: 4/3/23

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[monochromemoomin]

Idk if this has been asked, but which Will Wood song do you think represents David Tennant?

ooooo ok i have never been asked this.

i can’t really assign one to david himself i don’t think but i will absolutely give a will wood song to every DT character i can think of

my autism is bursting at the seams at this question hehe when worlds collide

assigning every david tennant character (that i can think of) a will wood song. (with accompanying reasons varying in detail)

Campbell Bain - 2econd 2ight 2eer. in my head he’s a lot of others as well but primarily this one.

Tenth Doctor - Hand Me My Shovel. covers a lot of ground i think. i could’ve gone with a sadder one but i don’t think he’s openly miserable often enough for that.

Fourteenth Doctor - Cicada Days. (yes the doctors get separate ones leave me alone) this is my favourite song ever i didn’t think i was gonna include it here but actually i think it fits fourteen quite well.

Crowley - I/Me/Myself. the obvious choice is Laplace’s Angel but i reserved that one for Kilgrave. this one is kinder. this isn’t just because he’s all genderfluid it’s also because i think a lot of it could fit with his relationship to being a demon. there’s a lot of other options i think but i like this one best.

Kilgrave - Laplace’s Angel. come on. what else would he be. (although, Your Body My Temple is a tempting 2nd choice.)

Alec Hardy - Skeleton Appreciation Day (Bones). tougher decision but i think this one fits best.

Casanova - Chemical Overreaction. born to give him a whore song, forced to consider his other traits 😔. no but in all seriousness this one is giving Giacomo because of his eccentricity but also the actual story.

Phileas Fogg - Everything Is a Lot. tough choice again but mainly because i actually couldn’t think of any that fit right. the lingering on “all the moments you lost” works very well i think though.

Simon Yates - Cover This Song. easier than expected. i think Simon and Emily’s relationship and its past work pretty well with this.

sorry you probably only wanted one answer and i’ve given 9 but i had fun with this so tyvm :)

[zozo-01]

"round and round on a horse like a carousel."

Here we are!! We finally got this massive fic out and done! I've always wanted to write a fic with Sam and Gavin, anddd my official bodycount is now up to two (thousand)!!! Special shout out to my lovely 'zo keeper' @gingerbreadmonsters who is enjoying some perfectly desrved R&R on the other side of the world!!! Thank you for letting me play with your theory and shoving Sam and Darlin' into it!!!

 CW: Angst, Multiple Major Character Death (most of it is shown but only one is described), Grieving Characters, (they are not handling the grieving process well), Hopelessness and Despair all around, Ambiguous Ending, Manipulation, Slight Coercion, Follows Ginger's "Echo is Gavin" Theory, Multiverse (kind of), Poor Sam is going t h r o u g h it, Echo doesn't care, Despite everything Echo does care for Sam, Mentions of Alexis invoking Sam to kill Darlin', You need to read 'have and hold' and 'reeling' to understand what is going on

click here for the ao3 link!!!

--

“Well you’re as handsome as the day I met you.”

He didn’t know what he let out, if it was a chuckle or sob. To be quite honest, he couldn’t hear anything except for the voice of the raspy shifter in bed. He needed to hear them, for what limited time they had left together. If he can’t go on with eternity with them, then at least let him burn their voice, their magical laugh, in his head. For the nights (or days he suppose) when everything is too much and he feels like he’ll burst, the memory of their voice will bring him back. Calm the angry threads that are barely bursting from the seams.

Although, one could argue that the memory of them in any capacity would shatter him more than what trivial and worldly matter will plague him.

“And you’re just as beautiful, Darlin’.”

Darlin’s hoarse chuckle led to a series of coughs. Realistically, Sam knows that their lungs aren’t what they used to be, but every cough had his core pulsating with the need to heal them. Not that healing magic would do them any good.

Another moment of silence passed, the clock ticking becoming louder. 

“I’m sorry, Sammy.”

He shook his head and repeated the same phrase once again. “It ain’t your fault.”

With a stubborn glint, one that had weakened with time, Darlin’ replied, “But I don’t want to leave you!” Their eyes were watery and their voice strained with pain in their chest. Part of him was scared that they were wasting precious energy trying to stay strong for him. Leave it to them to not rest in their final moments.

(Wait a minute, was that crack in the corner always there?) He wiped their tears, feeling his own build up, not that he’ll ever let himself cry when they needed more comfort than himself. He’ll have all the time to be selfish later. “I understand, you didn’t wanna be turned, I get it more than anyone else.”

But his words weren’t enough to change their mind. He’s long accepted that fact yet he continues. “We both knew this day was going to come. And listen to me,” he kneeled on the ground and held their hands, “I had the time of my life with you. You’ve made me the happiest man I could be, and to this day I still think I don’t deserve it. But I am the luckiest man ever to call you my mate.” He kissed their temple. “I love you, Darlin’.”

They gave a weak smile. “I love you too, my Nashira.” Their breathing slowed and they relaxed on the bed. “I’m tired, baby…” Their voice drifted off and Sam accepted the worst.

“Sleep, my love, you deserve to rest.” He kissed their forehead for the last time and watched them take their last breath. 

(Seriously, the hospital was brand new, why were there cracks in the ceiling?) Now that he was confident they were gone, he clutched onto this body, sobbing into their shoulder and mumbling about how they deserve peace in the afterlife. 

But it wasn’t fair.

Why couldn’t he have been made human so he could at least join them soon? A selfish part of his wishes that Darlin’ was turned into a vampire so they could be immortal and happy. Whatever the case, why must he lose his love when everyone else can have theirs? Why must he have a bad ending after being dealt a bad life and bad death? 

His mother always warned him to always be careful of what he wished for, but right now, he’d suffer any and all consequences just to meet them again. 

(Ok this is getting concerning now, because now the entire ceiling is gone-)

“What a shame. Another iteration, another failed attempt.”

Sam had wondered if a foreign voice could sound so familiar. It was cold and distant, like a scientist viewing the results of an experiment. But it had a sense of sorrow, a type of exasperation. Whoever this ‘scientist’ was wanted his experiment to work, but something told Sam that he was used to failure. In a weird sense, it sounded like a mixture of every voice he heard in his life. A strange concoction of dialects and accents and tones that left him unsure who to pin the owner of this voice. 

(There was one person that came to his head, but he shook that thought immediately. The voice in his head was too cruel to be him.)

There were other voices in his brain too. The ones that belonged to one of the few friends his mate made in their youth. (They’d always called it their Starboy era.) 

An incubus that they had met in one of the many clubs they adored and his partner that he worshipped over anything else.

“You’re my sky, deviant. The space between my stars… In a lifetime of sensing the emotions of others, I never imagined I could feel like this... This much… And I am so grateful for it, and for you.”

Who the fuck was that-

Gone was the bed where his Darlin’ passed in their sleep, the world had cracked and broke around him, only for them to be replaced with a clear sarcophagus and an eternal night sky.

Inside was the body of the Freelancer that was once adored by his incubus friend. 

(Wait a minute, didn’t he see them last week?)

Before he can think any further, from the neverending nothing, a body emerged. It was an incubus, that much Sam could tell from his aura, but instead of the pink colouring that most incubi had, this one was all black. The tips of his horns were a midnight shade, without any of the stars that make the night sky beautiful. His eyes were devoid of any light, and he had the feeling that something ripped the light from his eyes and used it to paint the stars. 

There was something else that was off with him. Sam couldn’t keep his eyes off the outline of the not-so-incubus incubus, puzzled by the glitching effect that surrounded him. The false sex demon (or at least, he thinks it’s a fake) was outlined with a pink and white hue, not like the usual red and blue glitches he’s seen before. He was causing disturbances in the otherwise stunning galaxy themed room. It was clear that this… Whatever this being was, he didn’t belong here. Sam had an inkling that this irregularity hadn’t come to give his condolences for his mate’s death.

(He could never understand how the term incubus, a term referring to creatures of light and fun and sex could also refer to a dark and twisted nightmare.)

(He was about to find out soon.)

The demon smiled, leaning his arms against the sarcophagus and chuckled, “Hello Nashira.”

Sam bared his fangs at the stranger, distrust filling his body. “You don’t get to fuckin’ call me that.” There were only two people who could call him that. One of them was dead. And the other was about to become dead inside. (Shh. Don't tell Sam that, this is our secret.)

The demon pouted, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Oh? You don’t remember me, Samuel? We go all the way back.” He gave a sly smile that Sam found all too familiar. “Your mate loves- oh, excuse my language, I had forgotten, loved having me around.”

Sam growled, “Don’t you fuckin’ talk like that around me.” He glanced at the dead or sleeping freelancer in the sarcophagus. “Or else you’ll be seein’ my mate and that partner of yours real fuckin’ soon.” Sure it was a low blow, but this incubi impersonator struck first and Sam’s never been known to hold back any punches, especially when it comes to his mate. In his anger, he even forgot the contradiction presented by the body in the sarcophagus. 

(Came. He meant when it came with his mate. No one tells you how hard it is to change the tenses in his words, let alone his mind.)

The impersonator raised an eyebrow, his eyes becoming darker, but that smile remained on his face. “Samuel, Samuel, Samuel. It’s adorable that you think a vampire can overpower a demon, but I shall let you feed your own delusions.” 

The demon paused for a minute. “You know, you and I used to get along so well,” he sighed. “Though I can’t blame you. It’s been years since we last saw each other, after all.”

“As if I’d befriend a prick like you,” Sam scoffed. Ok, maybe pissing off a demon isn’t a good idea, even when he considers his own immortality, but man oh fucking man, this demon’s a dipshit asshole and he wants to knock him down a peg.

The demon barked out a laugh, and Sam wonders where he’s heard that before. “Alright, then I’ll just have to remind you, Nashira. How about a trip down our memory lane?” 

It was a deal. With the way his voice sounded, it seemed like the impersonator made countless deals in his lifetime. The tone came to him naturally, he definitely has used it before. (Sam wonders if he was one of this creature’s past deals). Everything in him was screaming at him to turn away from this devil’s ploy, but his morbid curiosity craved the apple the demon was offering. 

“Alright, I’ll bite.” …The pun was honestly unintentional, but by God, if this demon is going to make a comment about it, he’s going to-

The smirk from the demon said it all. “You vampires sure love to bite things don’t you. Am I the next thing on your ‘to-be-bitten list’?”

“Shut up, demon, and get on with your story,” he grumbled, fully knowing he walked into that himself.

“Alright, alright, I’ll get off your case, Nashira,” he said, the sly smirk faded into a small smile, his eyes giving away that he was reminiscing on a memory. “I brought them, your darlin’, home one night. They had decided to get absolutely inebriated, so I had to carry them.” He walked around the sarcophagus and in front of Sam. “You chastised them for going above their limit, and they insisted that they were absolutely fine and it didn’t matter because I was there.” 

He went silent for a moment, a fond smile on his face. “They were always so stubborn…” His voice was quiet yet filled with adoration. Why was he talking about Dar-

The demon shook his head, breaking his trance and continued. “After you put them to bed, we caught up and I told you to be careful with their heart, that you were their ‘Nashira’. And you promised that-”

“That I’d burn the world and kill anyone in their way to make sure they’d never suffer another day again…” Shock filled his body, mouth hanging open and eyes embedded onto the demon. “How did you know?”

There was no way. His darlin’ was asleep and now permanently so, so they couldn’t have somehow told this stranger. And there was only one other person in the room that night. So it has to be him. But it’s impossible, there’s no way. The demon in front of him was far more cruel than the one he shared that sentiment with. Although… The body was similar to him, bar for the glitches and black colouring… And his voice was eerily similar, easily discernible from the cacophony of voices when the demon opened his mouth… And even that fucking bite joke is so him…

So then…

“Gavin? Is that you?”

There was a wistful smile on the stranger's face, almost happy by Sam’s attempt at discerning his identity. He let out a hollow chuckle, eyes glistening for a quick moment. “Ah, it’s been a while since someone has called me by that name, I almost forgot what it sounded like coming from another person’s mouth.” 

Sam stared, aghast. Surely it couldn’t be possible.

The shadow-man continued. “I only hear that name within the fleeting memories I torment myself with, willing to endure the pain so I can hear my name with their voice, just as it should be.”

He paused, mockingly bowing in front of the vampire. “So thank you, Samuel, for reminding me of that accursed name, but you are mistaken, my Nashira.” He cruelly smirked, eyes becoming blacker than black, whatever sliver of light that remained had gone, leaving the bitter and powerful entity. “The Gavin you knew is dead within the stadium walls, along with my deviant and your mate, all those years ago in the Inversion.”

A friend, wearing a stranger’s face. Familiarity and foreignness mixing together in an uncomfortable manner. 

“These days, I go by Echo.”

(Ok, that’s impossible. He can clearly picture his Darlin’ charging through the crowd in the aftermath in their gorgeous wolf form, and he remembers watching them like they were an angel sent from above. There was no way, no fucking way, that they could have died.)

(They weren’t even in the wards during that god forsaken day.)

Gav- Echo stood straighter, like he was proud of the person he’s become. Sam still couldn’t believe it. The incubus he knew was sweet and kind, with a heart of the purest gold that’s ever been mined. He was the type of man who’d carry old ladies’ purses while they cross the street, or make funny faces at the baby in the stroller. 

He loves unconditionally, becoming immortal not by the magic flowing through his veins, but by the magic he leaves behind in the hearts of the people he interacted with.

But this person… This echo of the demon he knew… He was the furthest from what he remembered of him. 

Echo chuckled at the puzzled thoughts that shone in Sam’s eyes. “This still is my favourite part, reminding you of our mission and updating you on how close I am to finishing it.”

Sam furrowed his eyebrows. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about? What mission? I didn’t agree to shit. And that still doesn’t explain what the hell happen to you Gavin! I saw you last week with your partner at the hospital! So how are they in that glass coffin!”

Echo snarled at his old name and raised his voice. “I told you, I go by Echo now.” He caressed the clear sarcophagus in a gentle way, like a lover caresses their partner’s cheek. “Gavin died when they did,” he whispered, like it was a secret between the two men. 

Sam understood it, recognized that pain. Part of him died with Darlin’ and now he might hurl any time someone not them calls him ‘Samuel’. It was their name to use and now it’ll have no use.

He furrowed his eyes, taken aback by Echo’s statement. But they were alive, he spoke to them last week. Despite their equal old age to his mate, them and their Gavin (the nice one, not this monstrosity in front of him), would constantly come by the hospital to see how Darlin’ was doing. It was nice, the support they, the clan and the pack provided was vital for him to keep his sanity.

Despite every logical sense making it seem like Echo is lying, the pain in his voice, the despair in his eyes, it was too real. The flinch his body did when he called him ‘Gavin’ was way too specific for it to be a simple mimicry of other grieving lovers. Whatever this version of the Gavin he cared for was, he’d experience the loss of his Deviant.

Either that or Echo should be given an Oscar for his performance tonight.  

Perplexed by this paradox, he opened his mouth to ask. Surely he deserves some answers as to what’s going on in this fever dream. “But they’re alive… I saw them breathin’.” He dared to step closer, a small part of him wanting to comfort Echo over their shared pain. 

A bittersweet smile graced his face, and yet again, it was too raw and real for anyone to fake. “They won’t be alive for much longer, Nashira.” With a wave of his hand, the starry night scene that they’d been in had morphed into a house.

This was Gavin’s and Freelancer’s house.

Sam looked over to the couch to see the human and incubus sitting there, laughing at the TV in front of them. Of course they were watching ‘Pingu’. He still couldn’t fathom why on earth either of them adore that show, but you can bet that their nights had consisted of curling up in their Cinnamoroll pajamas and laughing at the absurdity of the penguins on the screen. It was cute and wholesome and the exact domesticity that both of them deserved, so he never said anything. He can appreciate cuddles and a show to laugh at, even if he didn’t agree with the entertainment itself. Besides, it was nice to see the tradition be continued all these years later.

“I don’t even know why I loved that penguin show, but it’s just too damn loveable to not be obsessed with it,” Echo mused, walking towards the older version of his freelancer. “Admittedly, the pajamas were also my idea. I know, I know, seems out of character for me, but I digress. I do look damn good in a Keroppi onesie.” He chuckled and knelt before the older freelancer, caressing their cheek, even though Sam had a feeling the freelancer couldn’t feel his touch. His iconic glitches had calmed, and he became more grounded in reality.

Sam wondered if the freelancer calmed Echo’s rage, the same way Darlin’ did for him.

He felt a bubble of smugness burst through him, happy at the thought that for the first time during this fever dream, he got a leg up on Echo. “See? Told you they’re still alive, so you can cut the horse shit and tell me what the fuck is goin’ on here.”

A beat passed and Freelancer fell onto the ground, clutching their heart in deep agony.

Any and all pride that Sam felt a few seconds ago gave way to dread, forgetting that once again that darker incubus had been right again. He rushed forward, instincts taking over to try to heal his friend, only to be stopped when Echo put a hand on his shoulder.

“There’s no use, Nashira, they’re already gone.” His face had a hardened look, like he’d watch this scene happen over and over, but his voice had a resigned sadness in it. That despite expecting this result, he wished it would end differently. 

Wish carefully, listener. Actions have consequences. And wishes granted have a cost.

He tried to plead, struggling against the demon’s grip, “I can help! It ain’t fair that he loses his partner too! Send me back and let me save them-”

“Do you think I haven’t tried that?!” Echo responded with a question that Sam was sure rhetorical. His voice kept a steady tone, but it didn’t do much to hide the rage from his voice. “I have tried every single variation, every single possibility, changed every single variable but it leads to the same fucking outcome. Your mate dies and my deviant follows them to the River.” He pulled the vampire up on his feet and whisked them both back to the starry room that they began this conversation in. “How dare you be so arrogant that you think you can change this? If anyone can save them both, it will be me.” He seethed every word, and Sam could finally see the total toll it had taken on Echo.

That still didn’t explain what he had gone through, and Sam wanted to understand. Whether or not he could comprehend it was up to how well Echo explained everything to him. 

Echo sighed, rage leaving his face and replacing it with apathy. “Apologies Samuel, I know you don’t remember anything. But can you blame me for losing my shit when you’re being, and I’m putting this gently, a goddamned idiot.” He looked back at the sarcophagus, affectionately rubbing it once again. 

(Come to think of it, the way Echo rubs the coffin reminds him of the window cleaners on the skyscrapers he’s seen. He can even picture the cloth in Echo’s hand, methodically wiping it clean. Huh, no wonder why the sarcophagus is all sparkly and shiny.)

Sam had taken offence of the insult, but he remembered the ache in his voice a moment prior. He could see the gears turning in Echo’s head, a restless mind coming up with another plan to achieve his ultimate desire. 

An unconscious part of him wanted to help the former incubus (the jury is still at the stands) succeed in his goal. Was it because despite evidence to the contrary, Echo looked and spoke and moved like his best friend? Or was it in his nature to heal people, lend a helping hand to those who needed it? 

(Was it because his Darlin’ would have jumped at the opportunity to help a ‘friend’ out and he needed to keep their soul tethered to the mortal world for a little while longer?)

(But maybe he’s always been a selfish man, and this was his way to get his Darlin’ back permanently.)

Apple firmly in his hand, he weighed the consequences of taking the fated bite. His mind screamed that indebting his soul to the devil is a terrible idea. But he needed to get some answers, to understand the clusterfuck chain of events that leads him to this very moment. A deal with a devil never killed anybody, especially if he knows that the devil was once an angel. 

“You mentioned earlier that we been through this before?” Sam recalled.

Echo nodded thoughtfully, choosing his next words carefully. “Are you sure, Samuel? You don’t understand what you’re asking to learn.”

“More than anythin’ in my life,” he confidently answered, stamping out any fear or uncertainty from his voice. His mate would’ve been disappointed in him. They hadn’t gone to law school just to see their mate agree to a contract without seeing the terms.

“If you’re gonna sign your ass away, at least do it with consent and knowledge, Sammy.”

God, he missed their voice. He wanted to hear it again like a dark forest craves the sun.

The far-too-demonic incubus narrowed his eyes at the vampire, his scowl growing deeper. His cold voice spoke, “Well fine, I’ll make that decision for you.” He stalked closer to Sam, the once pink and white glitches surrounding his body becoming more intense. The distortions seemed to respond to Echo’s emotions, and by the looks of it, he had a fury that rivaled the most spiteful Gods. 

Had his teeth become sharper? His horns larger? Sam didn’t have time to answer these questions because faster than he could perceive, Echo stopped within striking distance of the vampire, snarling in disgust and rage. 

“Absolutely no.”

Sam opened his mouth to retort, “Hold on, ain’t you the one who just said that we been through this before?” If there was anything he hated more than a two faced, back-stabbing, lying bitch ass, it’s a motherfucker who goes back on his word. 

Echo pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering an ‘I don’t have time for this’ under his breath. “Look, I get it. You want to save your mate, really I do. But learning the grander plan at play would only bring you more pain.” He placed both his hands on Sam’s shoulders and gave them a comforting squeeze. “We can do this without you having to bear the weight of this knowledge. Let this be my burden to carry.”

Fuck that shit. Sam had never been the type to let someone else solve his problems, especially when it comes to his mate, and no dimension-breaking asshole imitation of his mate’s best friend is going to change that. 

“Gav- Echo,” he said hesitantly, “I wanna help you save both of our partners, and me knowin’ will just help your cause.” Sam felt the urge to get on his knees and beg, just so he can understand what the fuck is going on. “Please, I need to know.”

He let go of Sam’s shoulder and takes a step back. Echo’s face conformed into a cold fury, a far cry from the comforting tone he used a second prior. “I tried to make this as painless as possible for you, Nashira,” he spat out, with an effort to remain as calm as he could. But with every word Echo said, his composure wavered, a strained frustration creeping into his voice. “Yet you clearly, want to make things harder for yourself.” 

Sam watched as Echo’s glitches threatened to rip apart the reality they presided in. Tears appeared in the night sky and the stars were falling on the “ground” they stood on, crashing and exploding into a brilliant white light. For each star that descended from this makeshift heaven, Sam could hear Gavin’s voice from a life from long ago.

“I can be both a good man and a very bad incubus all at once.”

“You can let yourself feel everything right now, and I’ll weather this storm with you. Just like you did for me.”

“Now, there’s an idea. You know I’m a sucker for a callback.”

(Sam also noted that the sarcophagus carrying Freelancer’s body had vanished. Where to? He hadn’t the faintest clue, but something told him that even in death, Echo didn’t want his deviant to see him in this rageful state.)

His pondering was cut off with Echo’s booming and well, for lack of a better term, echoing voice. “Do you have any idea how it feels to carry millennia worth of memories that no one but I understand? How it kills me to know everything about you and your mate and Damien and Lasko and Huxley and them, but knowing all you will only exist in my life for a fraction of the time I’ve spent observing this world?”

A moment of silence passed.

Everything stopped.

Sam half expected for Echo to evaporate into non-existence. (What that meant he had no idea, but he didn’t have time to contemplate existentialism right now.) 

Instead, Echo composed himself. He waved a hand and every fallen star rose back into the sky and the reality-breaking tears stitched themselves back. “If you wish to become a stubborn, unnecessary martyr, then be my guest. But don’t you dare regret this decision later on.”

Sam couldn’t get a word in before Echo spoke once again. The room went dark again, but before he could panic about the sudden blindness, Echo spoke directly into his mind, a cacophony of every voice Sam has ever heard blanding into one harmonious tune. 

"Wish carefully, Nashira. Actions have consequences. And wishes granted have a cost."

(Glad to know Echo keeps the talks-a-lot-incubus tradition alive.)

On an unrelated note, Sam’s eyes felt heavy, like he hadn’t slept for eons. Sure he’s not known for his impeccable sleep schedule, but he’s never one to turn down the chance at some shut eye. Besides he’s had a hard life, let him lay down… And get some sleep… Maybe dream of them if he’s lucky.

(When has Samuel Collins ever been lucky?)

…

You know how when you fall asleep on a bus? Or on the train? (Or the tube as the British call it.) You don’t know when you fall asleep, and you know for a damn fact that you shouldn’t be sleeping in public where anyone can just… You’re sleeping on a train, you can fill in the rest.

That was what Sam experienced. Should he be sleeping in front of an omnipotent being that’s only one step away from a God? Absolutely no, but he did it anyway. Though on the bright side, at least he’s been blessed with a dream. 

But it's not them. 

“Samuel, I promise there’s a way to bring them back! But you have to believe me!”

“How Gavin!? How the fuck am I supposed believe when you say you’re gonna bring them back? I saw that shade fuckin’ drain ‘em! I saw the life fade from their eyes! You’re either delusional for thinkin’ you can save both of’ our partners, or your bein’ cruel for no goddamn reason.”

“Well you better believe me, because I can. But… It means watching them die over and over again until we get it right. Can you do that? Can you fall in love with them, only to know that you will only be guaranteed eternal happiness once?”

“...You do it everyday with your freelancer, don’t you? Why shouldn’t this be any different?”

“I’m not asking for me. Are you able to handle that kind of pain?”

“Lord knows I’d endure a thousand hells for them. I’ll do it in a heartbeat.”

“Alright, my dear Nashira, just remember…

…Actions have consequences. And wishes granted have a cost."

Oh right. He agreed to a deal. There was no point in wondering if he was making a deal with the devil because he bit the damned fruit long before he could even remember it.

A snapping sound slowly drags him back to consciousness, and a harsh reminder from Echo brings him back all the way. 

(Come to think of it, Sam didn’t even think he fell asleep. He just disassociated so hard that he felt his soul leave his body and relieve that past memory. Or maybe it wasn’t all in his head? Great, add time travel to the weird shit that’s happened so far.)

“Wake up, Sam,” he says with a harsh tone. If Echo had the same mannerisms, and everything tonight (or today?) proved that to be true, then Echo calling Sam ‘Sam’ and not some nickname or ‘Samuel’ or ‘Nashira’ meant that he’s pissed. Not in a ‘Freelancer not giving him affection for more than five minutes’ kind of way, but in a more ‘watching some professor antagonize Damien for being a fire elemental’ way.

Sam just hoped that perhaps Echo will have more mercy on him than the scarred professor.

(Emotionally scarred. She wasn’t worth having to deal with all the paperwork from D.U.M.P.)

“So you finally remember everything?” He may have posed it as a question, but the mocking undertone was a clear indication that he already knew that answer. It was silent for a moment, only to be broken when Echo clasped his hands together. “Well it’s always wonderful to speak to you, Nashira, but we have partners to revive, which if we’re being honest, would have been done quite earlier if someone would keep his reckless wolf alive.” 

What… No, he can’t…

Again? He had to go through that again? How on Earth did Echo expect him to go through the same love story for the thousandth time? If the definition of insanity is to do the same thing over and over and over again, then he has long gone past the deep end. He didn’t even know what possessed him to agree to this fucking deal those lifetimes ago. God damn it, he should have never bit the apple. Bringing people back? From the dead? The closest anyone has gotten to that is a vampire’s turning, but he knew his Darlin’ would rather die than give up their wolf. So he has to find a way to keep them immortal without turning them.

Cool. No pressure. When you boil it down to a simple sentence, it seems doable. 

That was before he had to watch them die a thousand times, and having to prepare himself from watching them die a thousand more.

He remembers it all now. The doomed timelines, the sinking and permanent dread that accompanied him around their death, the constant beratement from Echo whenever he failed. Given that he’s still here, talking to Echo and not enjoying immortal bliss with Darlin’ goes to show how much he has failed.

How dare Samuel Collins be so arrogant as to think as he could reverse an event so vital to the timelines he has the privilege of residing in. Does he not know his misery keeps his world spinning?

(Of course he knows why he agreed to all of this. Echo… Gavin’s voice held so much conviction, so much belief, that this plan could work. To call it a plan is giving it more credit than it deserves. It’s more of a hypothesis. However, theory can only be made fact if there is evidence behind it. At this point, it’s proving to be more fictitious everyday.)

In a meek voice, not out of fear but hesitation, Sam spoke for what seems to be the first time in a while.

“No.”

Echo halted. No, scratch that, the entire room just stopped. 

Before the stars and little clouds in the sky moved, twirling and twinkling in the false night sky.

The room seemed to forget how to breathe. Sam had to remind himself that despite his undead status, he wasn’t allowed the luxury of forgetting.

Echo scoffed, once then twice. Then he started cackling, bending over and clutching his stomach in a failed attempt to control this burst of joy. Or perhaps the absurdity of the entire situation has finally caught up to him. 

The ground cracked underneath the demon’s feet as he stomped around the room-dimension thing. “Of course, of course! I should have known that this would happen!” He muttered to himself. “Every single time we meet like this, you try to bail out because of your bullshit morals. Morals, that mind you, you only have because of them.” The stars heated up as his glare intensified. “Need I remind you how you treated Fred’s progeny?”

Sam was still living with the guilt of how he treated them and how they're relationship fell apart. 

If only he met Darlin' earlier-

“That's exactly it!” He yelled and the room shook with his fury. Did Echo just read his mind? “You’ve always based your decisions on what they would want you to do.” He scoffed, the temperature dropping as ice laced his voice. “Not that it ever stopped you before.”

Sam didn’t know if the chill down his spine came from the cold of the room or the cold hard truth his deranged friend was speaking. He was right. Sam will whine and cry about morals and standards and questions and thoughts of ‘what would Darlin’ do’, but it didn’t matter. In the end, he’d continue on with Echo’s mad experiment to save them. (Save them both.)

Bite the apple from the snake, suffer the consequences of the sin, go back to the Garden of Eden and do it all over again.

(Does that make his darlin’ the Adam in this story? Convincing him that eternal damnation wasn’t worth the pain of immortality? It wasn’t that Darlin’ didn’t wouldn’t agree with the plan. His Darlin’ was as selfless and kind as the Saints he was forced to pray towards. Death was nothing to them if it meant they could be the cause of that salvation that saves their friends. No, they’d disagree with the plan because they couldn’t bear seeing their beloved in constant, perpetual and unavoidable pain.)

(Or maybe their mercy  makes them Jesu’? A martyr destined to die over and over and over for the sins of those who have ruined them? If that’s the case, then he’s Judas, the fool who damned Jesus with a kiss.)

The demon rolled his eyes back in the dramatic fashion that he was known for. With a wicked smile and a faux concern dripping from his voice, he taunted the vampire, “Come on, Sam, we both know what you want.” Any and all anger was gone, replaced with the smug satisfaction of a man (or interdimensional magical being) who knows he’s been right in every scenario. Why, of course he is. Echo has had this same argument a thousand times over.

And he’s won every single time. 

(What can he say, he’s had a lot of practice.)

“Do I need to remind you of the times where you were the one who killed your precious mate?” He asked to continue to poke and infuriate the vampire.

Of course he didn’t need to. There have been timelines where Alexis had invoked him to kill his wolf out of petty revenge. (Let it be said that the actions of these Alexises are not indicative of the Alexis you are familiar with.) He remembers the taste of their blood when he killed them. It wasn’t of fear or disgust, it was of acceptance and peace. Like he was making love to them in their bed and not violating their body. They had always said, “If I wanted anyone to kill me, I want it to be you, since you’ll make sure I’d be loved in my final moments.” 

He wished they had hated him instead. The wild fire, the raging blizzard, within their blood hurt more than any acid in this or any world. 

Echo, satisfied with the memories that were returning to Sam, put the final nail to the coffin carrying Sam’s flimsy convictions. “You don’t want all of that pain and suffering they had to endure to go to waste, don’t you? So I ask you again, Nashira, don’t you want to have them again?”

The most infuriating part was that he was right, so fucking right. This is what Sam wants.

He wants to drag his Darlin’ from the river by the hair he loved to pull when kissing them and hold them close and keep them safe and alive for all of eternity. Wants to gently place them down on their bed and play with his hair and tell them that nothing will hurt them. His arms were the shield they desperately needed after a lifetime of fighting. To make up for all the pain he has caused them in multiple timelines and create the most perfect future possible for them, just for them. Helping Echo with his own predicament is an added benefit.

The sunk cost fallacy is a phenomenon where a person is reluctant to abandon a strategy because they’ve invested everything ounce of themselves to see it succeed. Echo and Sam were becoming too familiar with the ocean floor.

Quiet resignation and deep laughter filled the room, with the demon wiping his nonexistent tears from his eyes. “It’s always fun to break you, Nashira, but we have work to do. And this time,” his eyes darkened and the stars flickered out, leaving the two men visible, “I expect results.”

Sam nodded and an apple appeared in front of him. When he takes another bite, the cycle of pain will continue, and it will end with him. And he will end it.

He has to.

If not for his happiness, than for the happiness of the twisted demon he once called a friend. 

–

Now that the cycle restarted and Sam was sent back to the beginning, Echo remained in the room. Alone and perfectly still, like water that hasn’t been agitated.

The false memories always work. He gave himself a pat on the back for coming up with that idea after the first few cycles, when Sam was becoming resistant. 

The ‘multiple timelines’ that Sam had experienced were really just simulations that Echo created to cycle through in order to find the perfect solution. Each one contained a different ‘what if’ to reveal more information about how this world works. 

What if Alexis was a petty and jealous ex?

What if David turned on Darlin’ and let Quinn take them? 

What if they had a normal life and died of old age?

They all had a different purpose, but none of them were real enough to have any lasting consequences, but lovely Sam didn’t need to know that.

In truth, while Echo can make all the alternate universes or lifelike dreams he wants, he can only reset the prime universe, the one we know and love, only once. So he had to make absolutely, one hundred percent sure that he can manipulate the right factors to create his desired outcome. And he finally thinks he did it. After years of self-isolation and watching his friend be tortured, he finally broke the crystal.

(Whoever gets that joke has quite good taste in TV shows.)

Echo looked up at the black void and smiled. “Are you seeing this?! You said I could never and I fucking did!” Silence was his only response but he didn’t mind.

It took him much too long to learn about the secrets of turning humans into concubines, but better late than never. Considering that Darlin’ is a shifter, a human that is closer to a demon than a freelancer, it only makes sense to make them his first and successful attempt. (Mark his words, he will succeed.)

From his pocket, he held a photo in his hands. It was taken in front of the local cowboy club in Dahlia and the incubus and shifter were smiling. Happiness coursed through their veins and unbeknownst to neither, more was on the way. Echo studied how lively and youthful Darlin’ looked back then. Before Quinn had forced them to let go of themselves and the carefree nature that made them loveable. While he thanks Sam for bringing that side out of them, he was going to make sure they stay like that.

Permanently. 

He took a deep breath and braced himself. Once he saves them, he can save his beloved deviant.

He was going to see his beloved deviant again.

And he will make sure they all live happily ever after.  (But do you know what they say about those who try to alter destiny? The fates will not take kindly to anyone to change their plans and will do anything to get back on the right track. Certain events can never change, lest the universe unravels on itself. But Echo would relish that type of destruction, wouldn’t he.)

[qe-podfic]

@pb-and-jammothy has created this wonderful illustration for the cover art of Chapter 7 - Angels of Observation.

Excerpt under cut:

Dimly, Aziraphale was aware that his hand was wet. And in pain.

He looked down.

He had grabbed his steak knife, blade first. He was bleeding. Quite a lot.

Everything was an abrupt flurry of movement. Crowley rushed for him, cradling the underside of his hand, easing the clenched fingers away from the blade. Pressure was being applied to the gash, Aziraphale couldn’t be sure who was doing what. Gabriel appeared from behind a wall, he was calling someone on his iPhone, his voice muted and muffled as the adrenaline spiked in Aziraphale’s temple. So Crowley was the one applying the pressure. Huh.

“I’m sorry,” Crowley whispered, chin brushing the side of Aziraphale’s face in order to direct the words under Gabriel’s radar, “I know what you meant. It’s an avalanche,” his voice was distraught, wavering at the seams. It sounded like he was threads away from bursting, spilling out onto Aziraphale’s feet. Sheer determination seemed to be the last pull of gravity, keeping the splitting segments of him from shattering to dust. The whole of him was poured into his fussing, his movements, contrite and repentant, as though the wound in Aziraphale’s palm was the only place his frenetic energy could burrow itself.

“I shouldn’t have—” the sentence died a miserable death in Crowley’s throat as Gabriel’s shadow loomed over him. Aziraphale wasn’t really all there. He was in… shock? That’s the word they used in all the crime dramas, right? Shock. You got a special orange blanket, and shivered as the police asked you questions about that gunshot you’d heard.

Gabriel was handing items to Crowley, murmured words flittering between them. Nothing reached Aziraphale’s ears. The sting of an alcohol wipe, oh so gingerly dabbed across the slice in his hand, was the first thing to phase Aziraphale’s mental lock-down. Jaggard, acute pain. He sucked in a sharp breath.

“Sorry,” Crowley said, again.

“You should kiss it better,” they both startled as Gabriel spoke, pocketing his phone and ruffling Aziraphale’s hair. Aziraphale only smiled weakly towards his brother.

“And risk an infection?!” squawked Crowley, “I’ve only just cleaned all the broccoli bits out!”

Despite the indignation of his tone, the touch on Aziraphale’s hand never roughened. Crowley’s ministrations remained, soft and soothing as ever; the alcohol’s bite, quelled with the lick of wet gauze and cotton pads. It did nothing to dilute the wound in his gut, the writhing mass of blood and viscera that squirmed to avoid the hot-iron poke of Crowley’s words. A joking kiss to the hand, an idea shot down with brutal efficiency. But Aziraphale was good for nothing if not pushing too far.

“You’re going to deny me a little kiss?” he pouted, making his eyes as big and round as he could manage. He was leaning forward playfully, batting his eyelashes and nursing the slice on his hand. Even when made in light-hearted jest, Crowley froze at the proposition, mouth agape, his brain reverting to its old Windows XP shutdown jingle. Whelp, in for a penny, in for a pound. Aziraphale tried ramping up the absurdity to snap him out of his funk.

“I’m injured, Crowley!” he pressed his hand outward, “Look at my grave battle scar, my wound! My boo boo…”

With his palm to the sky, fingers outstretched as far as he could manage until the tugged edges were too painful to bear, it left his digits half-curled, the gnarly slash across his heart line, exposed and red-weeping. Irritated skin was a blooming flower, peeling outwards from the delicate tissue beneath, and pouring scarlet nectar from a severed network of holy capillaries. Crowley was the fuzzy bumblebee he was trying to coax into his centre, drywall dust like the sticky pollen in Crowley’s fur. The adrenaline tremble of Aziraphale’s hand as it was offered. The quiver of rose petals in the breeze.

“Dearest, please?”

Crowley swallowed, honeycomb eyes absorbed into darkest night, flicking from the injured palm to meet Aziraphale’s steady gaze. He leaned forward, slowly, incrementally. Cradling the disfigured blossom in a grip too gentle to be real, he hovered, mouth over the hand-heel. His breath ghosted the anticipation of a kiss across Aziraphale’s palm. Air caressing the hills and valleys of his sundered skin. Overwhelming and, yet, too little a touch to satiate the newly awoken ache in Aziraphale’s stomach. It felt like peristalsis in his bones, a new sense coming alive under the not-touches littered over him, an exhalation of electricity on a Faraday cage. He was starving for cyanide. This was the apple. A little death, hidden in the seeds.

“Anything,” murmured Crowley, the distance between them, a yawning void that halted the potential for an accidental brush of skin on skin. And then. And then, Crowley’s lips were on his hand. The sensation shot down Aziraphale’s nervous system, lingering at his elbow, then jolting around his rotator cuff, before it finally settled. Down, down, down. Deep in that hungry pit of him. In his empty core. There, it boiled into nothing but smoke. Crowley’s kiss lingered, only a fleeting few seconds, and then it was gone. It did not take the hunger with it. No, the hunger stayed, swirling in the padded fortress of Aziraphale’s abdomen.

“I’d give you anything,” every word Crowley uttered was a new kiss against his wrist, achingly soft and jittering through the slipstream of Aziraphale’s bone marrow. It was the coincidental flicker of Crowley’s mouth as he spoke, as well as the intentional decision to not move away from the grazing. Every sparkle of contact burned anew down Aziraphale’s spine, zipping to his toes and back. It hurt to hold this thing that wasn’t meant for him. This love, now angled in his direction, out of convenience. But Aziraphale had never been its true target.

This had been a very, very bad idea.

He didn’t know what his face was doing, but it couldn’t be any more pleadingly sincere than the lips at his wrist. In that, at least, he was safe. There was no social etiquette for this kind of thing. No decorum to be had, when a man knelt before you and offered up a pious devotion that wasn’t yours to keep. What was the protocol when your sanguine ichor dripped onto his chin, having escaped from your veins, abandoned to blemish his skin’s silk pearl? How was Aziraphale meant to respond, other than to brush away the spot with the thumb of his uninjured hand, and tilt Crowley’s jaw, upwards, eye to eye, to cease the oral torment on his palm. Crowley’s mouth had never wandered, never trespassed into the angry skin, flushed around the knife-split. Yet, Aziraphale suffered all the same.

“Uh,” Gabriel interjected awkwardly. Crowley reefed himself back from Aziraphale’s hold, careful not to disturb the wounded palm; meticulous, even in his moment of panic. The lurch of him shook Aziraphale out of his head, observing the scene as a voyeur, if only for a moment. Vaporously, he beheld the rendering of them, the mural that had been composed of their positions, shattered in the vacuum of Crowley’s shape as he recoiled.

[timaeusterrored]

(Emotions part two)

((Apologies for being such a downer recently. I’m really not doing better, I think I wish I had been. But also the only way I know how to properly communicate emotions is through writing so yeah.

Tw: throwing up, anxiety, self deprecation, lots of crying))

Vax was in the bathroom again, waiting for the nausea to pass. He was taking slow, deep breaths, but it wasn’t working. He honestly felt like it was making it worse. He began to sat up and in doing so, launched himself into another gagging fit.

He thought he was slick, he thought he was quiet. But warm hands sliding up his back proved otherwise, and another hand slid into his hair, holding it back for him.

God he felt pathetic. Couldn’t even handle anxiety in the mornings. This morning had been particularly rough, he didn’t think he’d be able to make it to the bathroom. He also thought he had locked the door, but remembered they had a strict no locking the bathroom door unless necessary.

He felt a sob escape his throat, choking him up. He couldn’t breathe, his chest was caving in. Tears slid down his face as he fought for a breath of air, spitting into the toilet.

“I’m gonna get him some water.”

“And a cold rag… thanks J.”

The hand in his hair disappeared, he heard footsteps padding out the bathroom door. The hands on his back moved lightly up his spine. Then into his hair to hold it.

“I’m sorry.” Vax sobbed, unsure of why he could handle so much and yet so little at the same time. “I’m so sorry-“

“Shhhhhh, just get it out okay? You’ll feel so much better after.” Kerry whispered, keeping his voice down as if to stay quiet for V.

The sweet relief of an ice cold rag on his neck signaled to him that Johnny was back. And he was pretty sure he was done with his morning ritual now. He flushed and closed his eyes, just wishing for once that his mind would shut up.

Kerry wiped off his face and offered him the cup of water. He was instructed to drink it slowly, that in V’s state, anything and everything would upset his stomach.

The three sat in silence on the bathroom floor, Kerry mindlessly playing with V’s hair while Vax stared at his water, feeling like a pathetic sack of a human being.

“I’m-“

“If you say I’m sorry one more time I’m making Johnny sleep between us.” Ker’s threats were false, he’d never sleep without V in his arms again. It reminded him of the months V was in Arasaka’s hands. And Vax knew better than to believe anything his husband threatened him with.

Vax nodded, deciding to just shut up. He didn’t need to speak anymore, or at all really. Maybe if he just shut up, he’d be able to fade away into the background.

“What’s going on up here?” He felt a tap against his temple.

V frowned, knowing if he lied, he’d feel worse than if he actually told them what was going on.

“A lots going on up there… it’s so fucking loud. It keeps telling me I’m nothing. That everything I did was pointless. That I should have just let J have my body, or I should have let Arasaka kill me. Then maybe I wouldn’t so fucking pathetic.” Vax wiped his eyes, rolling his neck and shoulders. “But it’s fine. I’m fine. There’s nothing to worry about-“

Kerry had the back of Vax’s head in the palm of his hand, gently leading him into his chest. Then Vax burst into tears. His chest exploded with the emotions of everything. He kept apologizing for being unable to control himself. That he had stopped taking care of Kerry and Johnny. That he had lost his sense of purpose because they caught him. That he was cracking at the seams and now it wouldn’t stop.

And Kerry and Johnny held him. They didn’t say a word, letting their partner cry it all out. And for the first time in a while, Kerry feared for Vax. Because he of all people knew your biggest enemy was the thing inside your head. And all it took was it calling you worthless one too many times.

He felt Vax begin to slow down, watching him grit his teeth in an effort to stop crying.

He tilted V’s head up, cradling it between his chest and hand, wiping some tears away. He always did have sad eyes, something Kerry had loved about him for years. He had beautiful eyes even in this moment of self loathing.

But he understood the feeling more than V realized. He was with Johnny Silverhand after all. He had done this song and dance for years, and it made him wonder how long this had been going on with V.

“Take a deep breath for me okay?” He needed to focus on calming V down first and foremost. If this became a later conversation then so be it. He wanted nothing more than to be in his head right now, blocking the thoughts from ever touching him.

V inhaled slowly, then let out a shaky exhale. Kerry instructed him to do it a few more times until his breath evened out. Then he sat him up enough to drink some water, making sure he and Johnny kept hands on him at all times. He knew Johnny sucked at this stuff, but also that they’d both rather listens to Us Cracks on repeat than ever leave V like this because it was uncomfortable.

“How about this, J’s gonna go get the living room ready for us, you and I are gonna take a shower, and get you some broth because you do need something on your stomach, and we’re gonna stay in today. How’s that sound?”

He could see the conflict in his husbands face, as if he was trying to remember what they originally had planned for today.

“Baby, stop thinking. I know that is easier said then done, trust me I know. But stop, it’s okay. Whatever we had planned for today is not more important than this. Okay?” Finally, V nodded.

Johnny didn’t complain when he left the bathroom, probably overwhelmed by Vax’s outburst of emotion. He wondered if these thoughts were as bad when they were merging together. Did Johnny protect him from the thoughts?

V had never looked so small. Not even when he was healing from the space station and relic. Kerry could still see his mind going a mile a minute, he knew everything was easier said than done. But baby steps. One thing at a time.

When they got downstairs, the couch was set up for the three of them, and a steaming cup of broth was waiting on the coffee table. Johnny stood at the coffee machine, making coffee for himself and Ker.

Kerry got the fixer settled, making sure he took a few sips of of his drink before settling with him. Johnny came around and kissed V on the forehead, setting the mugs down.

The rockers sandwiched V, as if trying to physically shield him from the bad thoughts. It would all be okay, hopefully. Kerry knew better than anyone that this shit didn’t just go away. And that V was and probably had been hurting for a long time, and the only thing either of the older men could do was be there when he needed them.