#the pictures were beautiful and horrific

[bloomingonionbitch]

also while shuffling books around today and unpacking the last few boxes i found TWO "Picture Book of Saints"!!!!

i only remember having one copy as a kid so where did the second one come from?????

[dsybouquet]

welcome home ⋆·˚ ༘ * - ellie williams

genre: post santa barbara! ellie x fem! reader, fluff fluff fluff, little angsty ? idk wouldnt call it angsty decide for yourself, comforting ellie, reuninion, crying, mentions of smoking, no baby !, mentions of panic attacks (kinda)

ellie came home with the burden of what has happened just to find you still waiting.

w.c: 1.9k

Breathing heavily, Ellie climbed up the last bit of the woods. Her limbs were heavy, her body weak. The way back to the farm was the most gut wrenching trip she ever had.

Not just because of the infected wounds on her lost fingers or the unsterile stitched up hole on her stomach. The uncertainty of what will happen, of what she’ll find when she’s home made her sick to her stomach.

Every step she took, every mile she got closer to your shared home made her want to throw up and not keep going. She wanted to run, to not return. But she couldn’t. Not before she went inside. Not before she could see what you left.

She approached the gate. The flowers still blooming although fall was slowly coming along. The colourful leaves of the trees which started to fall off - it all was so beautiful, it was just how she left it.

Oh, how she wanted to run. She felt the panic creep up. It was suffocating.

With her hands shaking, she unlocked the gate, entering the property. Slowly, she was walking towards the house. The garden was filled with pumpkins and other vegtables and too her surprise, it looked as if someone was taking care of it. Still, the chance was high that it wasn’t you.

Maybe someone else took over the house, took over the property. Maybe you were long gone and she would meet her end by someone shooting at her when she enters the house.

Or maybe it will be empty with nothing left and someone else from Jackson occasionally stopping by to feed the animal and take care of the garden. After all, you are still part of the Jackson community.

Her body was trembling when she went up the steps to the front door. She was shaking, not being able to control her breath. Her vision was blurry, like when she had panic attacks after waking up from the horrific nightmares after Joel's death.

Slowly she opened the front door. To her surprise the house was.. lively. Pictures still on the walls, the decorations still up. A slight scent of sage burning in the hallway crawled up her nose. Could it be you were still here ?

She looked around. Everything was unchanged. Just like she remembered it. Ellie silently made her way upstairs. If you were still there, she would not want you to shoot her because you thought an intruder came in. After all, she knew how you could be. Impulsive and holding a gun to the head of everyone that entered your comfort zone too quickly.

Behind a closed door, Ellie could hear a record play. 80s rock, just the type of music you loved, the type of vinyls that Ellie would happily give to you when she found them during patrol. The shine in your eyes when she handed you the The Cure record she found in a random store while being on patrol.

How come exactly this record was playing right now?

Her stomach dropped and she was about to pass out. “Fuck.”, she whispered under her breath, with her hand coming closer to the doorknob of the room. Ellie's breathing was short, she couldn't take deep breaths to prepare herself of what she'd find behind this door.

Maybe it was you. Maybe someone else. Maybe, you'd be sitting there with someone else, being happy, finding the peace you've been seeking for.

After a while, she finally got herself to open the door.

The light of the room illuminated the hallway while tears formed in her eyes. There you were, sitting on the floor in front of a canvas. A cigarette in your mouth and the brush between your fingers. You were paining, just how you used to back then. You were so focused you didn’t notice the door opening.

And you looked breathtaking. Your hair hugging your face as well as the faint smoke of the cigarette. Your eyes were piercing the canvas as you moved your brush on it. Somehow, Ellie felt like she just fell in love with you - again. Like she‘d seen you for the first time. Butterflies had formed in her stomach. You looked godsend, ethereal even.

Ellie eyed the painting. It was her. You painted her. It almost seemed like you were scared of forgetting what she looked like. On your painting, she was standing in between the sheeps, like she used to before she went on her final revenge trip. Petting the little lambs, giving the sheeps names.

She looked happy on the painting, smiling.

Suddenly, she remembered that your brain was very photographic and that memories lasted with you forever. She wasn’t surprised to see you painting this scene exactly how it was.

“Hey baby.”, she silently said, a knot forming in her throat. You dropped your paintloaded brush to the ground and blew out the smoke of your cigarette. You couldn’t look at her, too scared that it was your mind playing tricks on you.

Maybe you were daydreaming. The loneliness must have gotten to your head. You are imagining her. Shes not really there.

But then you had to take a look. Curiosity took over. You just had to know if it was really her.

And when your eyes met hers - your heart skipped a beat. Her sad green eyes which looked so tired. The scars in her face, the smile filled with sadness. She was back.

You put your cigarette in the ashtray before covering your mouth with your hands while tears formed in your eyes. “Fucking hell.”, you whispered trying to hold back tears.

“You’re here.”

“I’m here.”

Ellie didn’t approach you and you remained seated on the floor, trying to control your breath. She looked at you. You didn't change a bit, you just looked.. consumed. Dark eyebags, eyes as tired as hers. You lost some weight, noticeably even. But overall, it was still you.

You still looked like her pretty woman. The woman she left behind to seek revenge. The woman she loved ever so dearly.

Tears escaped from your eyes, staining your cheeks and hands with themselves. “You’re alive.”, you whispered after you put your hands to your head. “Fuck! Ellie you are alive.”

You got up, slowly, still scared that all of that was just imaginary. Scared that if you get too close, she’ll vanish. But she wasn’t. Even when you stood right in front of her, she didn’t dissolve into nothingness.

“Come here.”, she whispered, opening her arms for you to fall into them with a sad smile. And you did.

You held her so tight, Ellie was scared she’d suffocate. But you couldn’t care less. The longer you hugged her, the more tears escaped. You were sobbing in her arms, scared to let go. Scared that if you did, she’d leave again.

“It’s okay, baby. I’m here.” Ellie herself had tears running down her cheeks by now. Her hands slowly rubbed your back. She was relieved to see you were still here, but heartbroken to know you waited for her. And you would have waited there until your life meets an end.

All the months, you took care of the house, the garden, the animals. All by yourself just fueld by the hope of her returning. If only she could go back in time to prevent this. To stay here with you and accept the things as they were.

“I’m so glad you’re still alive.”, you whispered against her shoulder, before removing yourself from her grip to look at her. One of your hands found its way to her cheek, smudging away the falling tears.

She nodded, her heart feeling heavy as she pressed her lips together to not let out the most heartbreaking of sobs. She failed, hard. Ellie started sobbing and looking to the ground, feeling sorry and relieved at the same time.

“I’m so sorry. I should have never left. I couldn’t kill Abby. I had to let her go. And I left you alone for so long for something that was not even successful.”

Ellie broke down entirely, falling to her knees and sobbing in her hands. “I failed Joel, I failed Tommy, I failed you.” The way she was crying broke something inside you. You‘ve always wished to take this off her, to help her let go, but you have always failed.

There was no way of helping someone so deeply driven by trauma, by bloodlust. You had to let her do this and come to the realisation.

You wrapped your arms around her, comforting her silently. “Revenge is bittersweet. Let it go. Joel wouldn’t want you to risk everything just to seek revenge.”

She nodded, crying in your arms.

“I’m sorry I left you this way.”

“I promised I’d wait forever for you.”

You did.

Back in the days, back in the town of Jackson, the two of your were outside, drinking some mulled wine while staring at the stars. Nobody was by the campfire at this point. It was just you and Ellie, in the most romantic setting. You looked at her. Her freckled face illuminated by the fire, her eyes shining ever so beautifully. “I love you.”, you thought out loud, not looking away.

Ellie blushed, shooting her head into your direction. “Huh?!”

Quickly, you noticed what you just had said. “Fuck.”

Ellie looked away, not saying anything.

You felt horrible, like you fucked up the best friendship you’ve ever had. “Sorry I didn’t mean t-“

“Give me some time, ______. Please. I like you too, but I just need time.”

It was right after she found out Joel betrayed her, right in the time she was most vulnerable. And you respected that. But god, you felt stupid for saying it.

Nevertheless, you nodded.

“I can wait, no worries.”

Ellie sighed. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “I’ll wait forever if you’d want me to. Promise I’ll not go anywhere.”

She smiled slightly. “I give you that promise too.”

“Let’s get you in a warm bathtub and then to bed.”, you whispered, helping her stand up. Ellie went entirely non verbal, like she was only a puppet of herself with tears rolling down her cheeks.

You helped her get undressed and enter the bathtub. Although you wanted to ask about Abby, about the two fingers missing, about the new wounds and scars, you put it aside. You knew better, you knew Ellie needed comfort - your comfort.

So you slowly help her clean up, washing her Hair, softly scrubbing the dirt and dried up blood off her limbs, off her face. You took care of her like you always did, like you did after Joels murder, after Seattle, after bad days and trauma flashbacks. You were always there, and she left you behind like this.

“Come.”, you whispered and helped her get out of the bathtub, wrapping her fragile body in a towel. After putting fresh clothes onto her, you took her in the bedroom, helping her get into bed.

“I’m sorry I left you like this. I love you so much. I never wanted to hurt you.”, she quietly said, looking at you with tired eyes. You caressed her cheek, planting a soft kiss on her lips. The first kiss you shared in the past months. And you stomach felt like you’d freshly fell in love. You missed her so much.

“I love you too.”

Ellie closed her eyes, almost falling asleep immediately. The weight of Santa Barbara was still so heavy, she felt like she could sleep for weeks straight.

You just watched her silently, tucking her in, happy that she’s home, that she’s safe.

When you pushed yourself off the bed to brew yourself a tea, she held you by the wrist. “Don’t go.”, she mumbled, drunken in sleepiness.

So you stayed and placed yourself next to her. Your arm reached for her waist and you moved closer.

Quietly, you watched her drift of to sleep. She looked so peaceful and as beautiful as ever. Her auburn hair, still wet from the bath you gave her, was tucked behind her ear, giving you a view of her pretty face.

She was even more beautiful than how you remembered her. You noticed how you almost forgot her freckled cheeks, her little scar in her eyebrow. All these details about her were only a vague memory of yours, but now shes back. You missed her so dearly and it felt like a dream to have her back in this place with you and you were scared that if you fell asleep and opened your eyes again, it would only be a dream.

You missed having the person you loved the most next to you. Softly, you placed a featherlight kiss on her forehead.

“Sleep well, my love. Welcome home.”

[icanhearcolors]

I really love the idea of Tav drawing Astarion to show him what he looks like, could you maybe write something about that? ^-^

Hiiiiii! I can indeed thank you for the request :b

Welcome back to another episode of Abby tries to write something short and can't make it less than two thousand words.

EVERYBODY LOOK AT THIS GIF CUZ KJNKBJHGFRRETFO

Sorry I think I got possessed for a second there

Word count: 2.1k

The night sky had never been this gorgeous in the city. In Baldur’s Gate, the upper city was illuminated by mage lights that adorned the cobblestone paths. The light was bright enough that the citizens split into two factions, the night life and the day. Even those without dark vision could operate solely at night in total comfort if they chose to. In the lower city, fires were always burning, sending plumes of rich smelling smoke into the air constantly, obscuring the night sky.

But out here, under the blue light of a full moon, you can see every star and constellation in vivid detail. A soft purr-like snore hums against your back, and you brush a hand over the downy feathers of the owlbear cub you rescued from the goblins. He was getting so big. If he gets half as big as his mother was it is going to become a challenge to travel with him. It’s a sacrifice you’re more than willing to make. Besides, you could always cast the reduction spell on him in a pinch if any problem arose. He sleeps curled around your back, alongside his friend Scratch the dog, whose fluffy white head is resting in your lap.

The campfire crackles a few yards ahead as Wyll adds a few logs, humming a Baldurian tune you recognize but can’t quite recall the name of.

For the first time since the nautiloid crash you feel peaceful. Safe.

You turn your gaze to Astarion’s tent, probably for the thousandth time tonight, and stare at his profile as he flips through the pages of the seemingly sentient necromancy tomb you had discovered a few tendays prior. A faint green light curls from the pages like mist, illuminating half his face and casting the rest in shadow. You’d never really understood the saying “so beautiful it hurts'' until you met Astarion. An unknown emotion compresses your chest in a way that makes it hard to breathe sometimes when you look at him. You think it started out as empathy. Every detail of Astarion’s story he revealed to either warn you about vampires or shock you for his own amusement painted a picture of a horrific life full of trauma and misery that you found hard to reconcile with your enigmatic companion. He was always the first to crack a joke. He laughed loudly and on a constant basis. From an outsider’s view he’d appear almost carefree. Happy even. You wondered now how much of that laughter was real, and how much of it was the armor he’d donned a couple hundred years ago when he breached the surface of his own grave. You recall a conversation you had with him a while back about vanity. In his two hundred and forty years, give or take, he’d only been able to see his reflection for thirty nine. An incredibly young age to die for a high elf, and a small fraction of his life-span. Even if any fuzzy memory remained of that past life, it was no longer accurate anyway. 

He was something different now. 

Your eyes slide to your pack. You had found something yesterday- something rare indeed. A merchant selling art supplies outside of the city. You had everything you needed to give Astarion something you took for granted every day. His reflection.

Slowly, both as to not disturb your sleeping friends and not alert the elf in question to your actions, you slip a hand inside the bag. Your fingers find a pencil easily, the paper next, and you begin to draw. At first you draw him as he is, using his current unmoving form as a model, but you had been quite the artist in your time in Baldur’s gate, and you finished that drawing almost too quickly. So, you draw him again from memory, this time with his head thrown back, face scrunched with laughter. Then you draw his frown, his smirk, the condescending expression he so often gives Gale, the softer one you don’t quite understand that he reserves for you. You don’t hide or downplay his vampiric traits. You draw him exactly as he is, blending colored chalk to capture every shade of red in his eyes. Time falls away as you lose focus on everything but your work. Eventually, some time much later, the cramps in your muscles wake you from your trance. You stretch, and your knees, shoulders, and spine crack loudly. Scratch wakes up, stands, shakes himself off, and trots into the bushes. Your owlbear notices, and trills a soft sound before standing too, following him into the woods. You smile as you watch them amble off, happy they get along so well. You turn back to your drawings and examine them with new eyes. You expected to feel excitement, pride maybe, but instead a cold feeling ties your insides in knots as you realize you can never give these to Astarion. The drawings are some of your best work, but they’re also… reverential. A glimpse of Astarion through your eyes. Anyone who saw them would think you had drawn your lover, not your less-than-trusting involuntary traveling companion. He would take one look and realize exactly what you’ve been hiding from him since- well since you met him. You were infatuated with the vampire, and somehow, miraculously, despite the fact that you’d slept with him once already,  he seemed to be unaware.

He was going to find out.

You eye the campfire, half tempted to toss the whole pad of paper into it.

In your panic you turn your gaze toward Astarion’s tent.

He’s not there. 

His tent is open, and no one is inside it. You can see that from here. 

Somehow- maybe it’s the tadpole, or maybe it’s because you’ve spent so much time with the rogue, you realize you know exactly where he is.

Slowly, as if to avoid instigating an attack from a stalking predator, you turn your head to find Astarion standing behind you, peering over your shoulder.

Even though you were expecting it, you still startle out of your skin. Astarion drops to his knees on the ground in front of you and claps his hand over your mouth just in time to muffle your screech. You both look at eachother with wide eyes before turning slowly and in unison towards a sleeping Lae’zel. She’s frowning in her sleep, which isn’t unusual for her. She twitches, and then rolls over to her other side, sound asleep. You sigh in relief, through your nose because your mouth is still covered by Astarion’s hand. You swat it away and throw him a withering glare.

“What the in the hells is wrong with you?” You whisper-shout.

Astarion presses his lips together and turns his head away from you for a moment, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

“Oh yeah, laugh it up. If she’d woken up we’d be dead right now.”

“Look it’s not my fault you weren’t paying attention. You haven’t moved in almost four hours, I wanted to know what you could possibly be writing.”

You clutch the drawing pad to your chest and swallow nervously, eyes darting around for any glimpse of something you can use to distract him.

Unfortunately as you’ve come to realize, regardless of what they used to be, once turned vampires become lethal predators. Astarion sees your darting eyes, catches the scent of your fear, and you see the shift in his demeanor. 

His movements become slower, more fluid, as he tilts his head in malicious curiosity.

He reminds you sometimes of the big cats that roam the mountains of Faerûn. Once something captures his attention, there’s little use in trying to pull him off the hunt.

Still, you’re going to try.

“I’m not writing.”

His eyes flick to your hands, dusted in red powder, then back up. He hums.

“Drawing then. What have you been drawing Tav?” 

His voice is darker now. Persuasive. 

“It’s- uh… personal.”

Astarion lowers himself fully to the ground and stretches his legs out in front of him, leaning back on his arms. 

“A personal drawing?” He purrs, “Well now I have to see it.”

“No-” You cover your face with your hand, “That’s not what I meant and you know that Astarion.”

A moment of silence passes, so you lift your hand away from your face.

Astarion is gazing at you with that unknown expression again. His eyes look earnest, a soft smile on his lips, when he speaks the words that are your undoing.

“You can trust me, Tav. I already know how talented you are, you don’t have anything to worry about. Just show me.”

You sigh, and his smile grows. He knows he’s won.

Bastard.

“Fine you can see my drawings, but I need to tell you-”

The drawing pad is already out of your hands, your permission apparently all that was keeping Astarion from snatching it away from you.

Your heart stops at his first look at the paper. He stills, flipping through the drawings slowly, his eyes tracing every detail with excruciating slowness.

Finally, he puts you out of your misery.

“I-” He clears his throat, not meeting your eyes. “These are...”

He grips the paper tightly when you attempt to take the drawing pad back from him. You’re confused, and a little… well actually very hurt for a reason beyond your understanding.

Does he hate it? Did you overstep?

“What are you thinking?”

Astarion finally looks at you, his expression guarded. He points to the drawings.

“Who is this?”

Oh.

You’re shocked silent. You should have anticipated this. Of course Astarion wouldn’t recognize himself in your drawings. That was the entire reason you drew him in the first place.

“He’s um-” You fall silent again.

Astarion looks both terrified and heartbreakingly hopeful. You’re sure he already knows the answer. You’ve spoken to him at length about what he is. You know that he knows he’s the only vampire spawn you’ve ever met, and you’ve been traveling together without much separation ever since.

He still needs to hear you say it.

You stare at your wringing hands in your lap and take a deep breath.

“I remembered that conversation we had about how you don’t know what you look like, you just have to go off of what other people tell you, and I bought these art supplies earlier and I haven’t drawn in so long, I used to all the time but with everything that’s going on- and I meant to just draw you once but I wanted you to know what you looked like when you smiled too and then I got a little carried away I’m so-”

You don’t hear him move. Your rambling speech stutters to a stop at the sensation of a hand on your cheek. Astarion hooks his thumb under your chin and lifts your head just enough to press his lips to yours.

Your eyes widen in surprise and then flutter closed. All thoughts cease, replaced by a languid warmth that melts you into a puddle on the ground.

You tilt your head and kiss him back, a tingling sensation racing down your spine. His hand slides from your cheek into your hair, and he gently pulls your head back, deepening the kiss in a way that steals the air from your lungs.

All too soon he pulls back, just a few inches, and smiles.

A real, genuine smile that shows his teeth and lights his eyes. You think you would do terrible terrible things to see that smile more often.

He brings his other hand up to frame your face, holding you in place as if he’s afraid you’ll pull away.

“Thank you.” He says simply, his voice hoarse.

“This is a gift. I won’t forget it.”

He repeats the words he said to you what feels like centuries ago, the night you found out he was a vampire and agreed to feed him. 

“You’re welcome.” Is all you can think to say.

With absolutely no warning at all Astarion drops his hands to your shoulders and yanks you toward him just in time. A pillow, rather violent in its velocity, grazes the back of your head in its catapult into the forest. Somewhere in the dark woods, Scratch yelps.

“Next time it will be my sword Isticks”

Growls Lae’zel from her bed roll on the other side of the campfire.

You turn back to Astarion with an amused but also terrified expression, and he smiles knowingly, rolling his eyes.

He picks the drawings up off the ground from where they’d been scattered at some point and gathers them in one hand. He stands, hoisting you up with his free hand, and practically drags you across the camp to his tent.

You’ll have to draw him more often.

[amathslutsguidetofandom]

Heyyy I absolutely love your work!! Could I request a drabble of Bucky being completely smitten with the reader or a headcanon when the reader is sick??? Merci beaucoup mademoiselle🫶💖

Two Floors

PAIRINGS: 40's!James "Bucky" Barnes x Reader

WARNINGS: FLUFF, angst (if you squint), mentions of not haveing enough money

WORD COUNT: 1,759 (got carried away lol)

*not proof-read*

ENJOY!

“Oh c’mon doll, can’t leave a poor man hangin’,” he says as he runs to catch up with you. You roll your eyes as he comes to walk along side you.

“Buchanan, I told you to go annoy Rogers instead. I have much more important things to do,” you bite in his direction as you make your way through the streets of Brooklyn.

Graduating high school, a month ago with your best friends, Bucky and Steve, was something your dreamed of when you met the two boys the first time your moved into the old apartment complex.

Since then, the three of you have become inseparable.

But something eats away at your heart, a painful piece of emotion that just slowly chews away at your peace.

“You got a job already?” Bucky asks as he slides his hands into his pockets. You adjust the strap of your purse on your shoulder and nod your head, “just a small secretary job at the library. Enough to earn something until I finally decided what I wanna do with my life.”

Bucky laughs and lets out a low whistle, “still that ‘always need to know whay my future is’ type o’ girl, yeah?” You shake your head and slap his arm, “quit it, Buchanan. Or I’m telling Winnie your being an ass.”

Bucky rubs his arm, a little sore from your slap. “My ma trusts you more than the Lord himself,” Bucky comments, the loosely swinging his arm over your shoulder.

You doesn’t push it away.

“That’s because I don’t go bring random girls back home and make them scream my name in the middle of the night,” you smirk as you reveal you know of his nightly activities.

Bucky stops, forcing her stop. The look on his face is horrific and you snort and slap his chest at his reaction. “How’d you-,” he starts, but you continue to laugh.

“Becca tells me everything, Buchanan,” you wink at him before you start walking again. He breaks out of his reverie and jogs to catch up with you, “doll, it ain’t like that.”

You laugh and shake your head, “do I look like I care who you mess around with, Buchanan?” He pauses and shakes his head, it looks like to you he’s a bit upset, “no, you don’t”

You were about to say something else, but something caught your eye.

You stop and gasp as you walk towards the window of the shop.

The great glass pane with the large painted letters on it does not stop you from viewing the contents inside of the store.

The dainty little locket sits at the back of the display, hiding behind all the extravagant jewels. You know that the owner would’ve expected people to look at the jewels.

But the locket, it hangs lovingly from a thin gold chain. The oval case rests just in between the collarbone.

You think it’s the most beautiful piece you’ve ever seen.

Bucky see’s you view the locket and how in awe you are in as you frame a picture of it in your mind.

“Why don’t you get it,” Bucky suggests, nodding at the piece of jewellry. You let out a sad laugh, “because it costs more than our parents’ rent combined, Buchanan.”

You bite your lip while still looking at the necklace, “a girl could dream.”

You sigh and pull away, “let’s go.”

------- The Rogers’, the Barnes’ and your parents all stand in front of you as they sing ‘Happy Birthday’ for the eighteenth time in your life.

After they finish the song, out of key, you drag the simple knife down the cake, and they start cheering.

Your mother cuts up slices and hands it to everyone, you get up from the dining table and smooth out the wrinkles of the emerald green cotton dress your mother sewed for you.

The dad’s gather as they converse about the lastest sports, the mom’s are in the kitchen laughing as the cook dinner. Steve, Bucky, Rebecca and you sit in the living room.

You go against the opinions of Steve’s and Bucky’s as they complain about how high school was the worst time of their life.

“Look guys, you can’t say that,” you chastise them softly, “Becca, you’re in your junior year. It’s one of the best times you’ll ever experience.”

Becca nods, as Steve shakes his head to Bucky and Bucky mouths a ‘No’ in Becca’s direction.

“Buchanan,” you throw the couch pillow at him.

-------

“Hey, can I come in?” Bucky knocks on the window of your bedroom.

The party was over, and you’re parents went out to have a quick little dinner. They were upset because they didn’t want to leave you on your special day, but you knew how hard they’ve been working, and they didn’t have time to themselves. So you pushed them out the door and yelled a ‘have a great time’.

Bucky crouches on metal ridges that is your fire escape, waiting for your permission to enter your room.

You jump out of bed and raise your window a bit higher so he can fit in. “Are you out of your mind, Buchanan?” You whisper-yell at him.

He shrugs, “what? I live two floors above your doll, nothing to be worried about.” The wink he throws you way, makes you roll your eyes.

But there’s a place in your heart where it instantly becomes warm.

Because, even if Bucky was a player at times, he still caught your heart.

You did roll your eyes at his antics. But your smile was true from how playful he is.

You’d say ‘Quit it, Buchanan’, but in your mind you’d always whisper a ‘Don’t ever stop’.

You knew you were falling for Bucky, but you always forced those feelings down.

Because you knew, he won’t feel the same.

“What needed my attention so badly, that you had climb down to get here,” you cross your arms and narrow you’re eyes at him.

He smirks and sits on your bed, “well, I haven’t given you my present yet.”

You freeze.

You’re also confused.

“What? Of course you did, your family gifted me the Aesop Fable set,” you say as you walk to stand in front of him.

You vividly remember getting the gift, because it was something you have been telling Becca about for so long. And you squealed when you opened their present

But Bucky shakes his head, “no doll. They gave you, their gift. I haven’t given you mine.”

You pause, and you swear your heart starts beating a little faster.

“What”? You whisper, because you know you voice will crack if you spoke louder.

He pats the space next to him, “sit down, doll.”

You gulp and go sit down next to him, you obediently place you hands on your thighs as you wait for the next part.

Bucky gives a smile. But it’s different, you have never seen this look on Bucky before. The softness of his eyes, the way his cheeks are slightly flushed, the little crinkles at the corners of his lips as he maintains that smile.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tiny box.

The box looked like it was originally used to store a single chocolate ball, but the lettering on it worn out and the edges are a bit jagged.

You look at bucky with confusion, “what is thi-.”

He interrupts you, “just open it f’me, doll.”

And you do.

“Bucky, no.”

The locket stares back up at you, the gold glints under the light of your room.

“You-you can’t be serious, thi-this has to be a joke,” you turn to face him with tears lining your eyes. You heart has never beaten so fast in your entire life.

Bucky’s grin widens and nods, “got it this morning, just for you.” He says your name so softly that you think it might break if he said it to harshly.

You wrap your arms around his neck and push your head against his shoulder as you whisper your million ‘thank you’s’.

Bucky chuckles and rubs your back, “anything for you, doll.”

“Why, why me? Why this?” you shake your head against him.

“Because I gotta tell the girl, who lives two floors below me, that I’m in love with her,” Bucky pulls back and cups the back of your neck.

You gasp softly and furrow your brows at him, your shock so evident on your face.

“Gotta tell her that I’ve been after her since the day she moved into this building,” Bucky leans in and you follow.

How have you been so daft to not see this?

You close your eyes and stop until you’re a hair width’s away from Bucky’s lips.

“Gotta tell her how much I’ve been dreamin’ about her, and how she’s the only thing on my mind,” Bucky whispers, and you feel his breath hits your lips.

He softly places his lips on yours, and you move your hands to cup his face. You both move your lips in tandem to the other, as you try to feel more of one another.

He pulls away breathlessly and you follow suit.

“I’ve been meaning to do that for a long time, doll,” he chuckles and leans in to place soft kisses on your jaw.

You giggle and whisper a ‘me too’.

Bucky takes the locket from your hands and starts to put it on for you.

He soon as he done, he leans back and sees how beautifully the necklace sits just above the dip of your collarbone.

“Open it up,” he nods at the locket. You smile and follow his orders, you gasp as you see a picture of your seventeenth birthday, with the Rogers’ and Barnes’, at Coney Island. And the other side had a picture of you and Bucky at Prom.

You didn’t have a date, well you did but he stood you up. So Bucky stepped in and became your man for the night.

You look up at him and have no words to say.

“I-,” you start but can’t finish your sentence.

“I know, doll. I know,” he smiles. “Been saving those tiny pictures for a while, but it was worth it,” he leans in and presses his forehead against yours.

You close your eyes and relish this feeling that hangs in the air.

The feeling that you have been wanting to feel for so long now, it feels like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

“Bucky?” you whisper.

“Hmm, doll,” he whispers back.

“I love you.”

“I love you, doll.”

💌💌💌

OMG! MY FIRST EVER ANON!!

HELLO NONNIE!!!

Love this ask, I've always had this idea in mind, but never really knew how to write it.

I guess this is just a messy way of writing it lol.

I hope this is what you were looking for nonnie!!!

Lemme know what you lovelies think!!

Till' then,

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

[kquil]

POLY MARAUDERS | HEROES IN TATTOOS ⏤IMPRESSIONS

SUM. : their impressions of you after that first day

G. : fluff ; modern au ; muggle au ; tattoo artist james ; tattoo artist sirius ; piercer remus ; oblivious, innocent reader ; very much the marauders pov ; they're smitting with reader ; instant connection ; marauders inner thoughts

SET. : a little after chapter 1 and during chapter 2

LENGTH : 1.3k

After that terrifying night, they couldn’t get you out of their heads.

“I really hope she’s okay,” James sighs, running his fingers through his already untamed curls and messing them further.

“She was shaking like an autumn leaf,” Sirius clicks his tongue, his expression souring as he thinks back to the drunk bastard that dared to attempt something so horrific on you, “disgusting lowlife…” the tattooist didn’t even realise he had been clenching his hands into fists until Remus’s much larger hands took a hold of them. 

“She’s safe and sound at home,” the tall brunette forces a half decent smile, “at least she’s okay now,” his reasoning did little to help and Remus knew it because he couldn’t even convince himself of the sentiment. 

That night, sleep was hard to find. 

Like an answer from the gods, you were once again before them but no longer shaking in fear. You were happy, pretty as a flower in full bloom and smiling sweetly, the picture of a warm spring day. They largely shrugged off their actions last night, not feeling too heroic if it weren’t for your dedication to thanking them by cooking a delicious meal. 

Remus found you captivating. Not a single piercing in sight, such wasted potential for the additional accessory but still so beautiful and radiant without it; there’s no need to puncture your unsullied skin. The morning sun looks good on you, a much preferred contrast to the pale moon from the previous night of terror. Your features are clear and easy to appreciate, something Remus was grateful for. 

He wants to ask for your well being, his heart aching for your welfare and his mind begging for certitude. However, his anger was what commanded priority as the fateful night’s aggressor made a momentary glimpse in his mind’s eye and his biting tone triumphs bitterly. 

“It’s alright, don’t worry, I told my manager and he’s been banned from the pub I work at so I haven’t had any more bad encounters,” your sweet voice broke through his wrath and eased the tension from his shoulders. Your demure disposition was like sweet, creamy chocolate to his eyes —delectable. You look precious and his heart wavers with a familiar feeling. 

Interesting…the brunette thinks to himself, the feeling and notion intensifying when Sirius enters the scene and regales you with more flamboyance than he typically would any other woman. It reminds him of the days the leather-clad tattooist was notorious for sleeping around before finally finding a permanent romance with his coworkers and long time friends. 

As Sirius leads you away, he and Remus make eye contact. It’s brief but a spark, something electric and intimate flickers between them over the curve of your shoulder. Sirius smirks and Remus covers his grinning mouth. 

He feels it too, they both surmise, fingers tingling from the fever crawling up their spines, readying to devour them in the feeling.

Sirius feels the fondness warming his chest significantly amplify when alone with you. There’s something kittenish about your mannerisms that catches his eye. It pulls him in like an invisible red string snaring his heart. Not only that but you made for quite the view —with a beauty unique to you but was so enchanting and fit for your character only. It wasn’t a spell you cast on him without his knowing, however; he willingly asked you to subjugate him the instant he met your eyes that morning. There’s an urge that rises from the pit of his stomach to hold you close the same way he embraced you the previous night and turned you away from your aggressor. He was a shield for you then; he wants to be a shield for you now. But more…intimate.

Keep your hands to yourself Sirius, the tattooist warns himself, imagining Remus in the room staring him down with incisive eyes. To control his jerking fingers, he lifts his arms and drapes them across the back of the sofa, where they grip onto the leather like his life depended on it. 

Thankfully, you provided the perfect excuse for distraction and Sirius talked you through the many tattoos you had grown a darling curiosity over. That simple aspect about you is so lovable, it’s hard to look away from your changing expressions. With your pretty eyes, fluttering lashes and sweet lips, you continually tug at the string holding Sirius’s heart captive, as if to say ‘come closer, I want you beside me,’. 

I hope they’ll understand…Sirius pleads to a god he didn’t previously believe in, they have to understand that, for her, these feelings are predestined —it won’t feel right just to let the feelings, let her, go. 

“You’ll feel it too James,” Remus chuckles softly but deeply, one arm slung over the tattooist’s shoulders as he whispers his speculations into his ear, “she wears a sweet poison for perfume, I swear,” 

“I still can’t get over the fact that she’s cooked us lunch,” James grins widely, “that in and of itself is enough to win over my heart,” they share a short laugh before finally stepping into the room that you and Sirius were in, swinging open the door as they do so. 

James was at a loss. It was a joke at first. Both Remus and Sirius knew his love for food but having you feed him so attentively with the cutest smile on your face and those sweet sweet eyes looking up at him, James was tempted to push aside the food and eat you up instead. If it weren’t for Remus silently urging for his self-restraint — warm, brown eyes, now a sharp, cool blade of warning — James could have very well lost himself in the feeling and done something stupid to sabotage all their chances. He was a clown at times but not without a brain.  

For a brief moment, James shares a look with Sirius. Out of all three, Sirius had the reputation of being the most impulsive with James coming straight after him and Remus trailing not too far behind, although was the one who could hide it the most effectively. There’s a roguish sparkle in Sirius’s grey pools but, like Remus, his gaze became a sharp tool of admonition, which was rare for the leather-clad tattooist.

It’s a miracle…James laughs to himself but succumbs to his desires somewhat, kissing your cheek under the guise of gratitude. 

“You’re too kind, angel, thank you,” James can feel the warmth radiating from your cheeks due to the proximity and has to bite his lip from grinning too much. From his peripheral view, he can ascertain a small degree of envy glimmering behind the eyes of his two lovers but it isn’t enough to overwhelm the fascination and virtuous adoration they've developed so naturally for you.  

I probably look the same way, James resists the urge to shake his head, I can’t believe we’re about to do this all over again…

“Do you think this is too much, Remus?” Sirius asks in a low whisper, leaning over the seated brunette after readying the printer. 

“No matter what I say, you wouldn’t care, so why bother,” they share a chuckle but smile at their mutually growing feelings for you, “it’s temporary anyway…the same way this growing crush will be. But in the sense that it’ll become something more one day,”

“You feel it too then?” There's a feverishness behind Sirius’s words —it’s something contagious. 

“So much so that I’d die if she leaves without this tattoo on her…even if it is only temporary,” the two take their time signing their names carefully before getting James to sign his. 

It was true. All three men would die if they didn’t take the opportunity to sign their name over your heart the same way you’ve already done for them. The ink you used was invisible but scorched their skin so deeply, it was impossible to even think about erasing. Their ink would only be temporary but they’ll strive to make it an eternal one. No matter how long and no matter what it takes, they’ll make it a reality.

All three are a man of their word.  

A/N : so....this isn't a request nor is it a planned post but it is dedicated to one of my favourite readers of this series - i really shouldn't say that because you darlings are all sweethearts and i love all of you but they just get so excited for this series and from their comments, i know we're on the same wavelength for what we want to see happen in this au. @diputy , this is for you, darling, i hope you enjoy the read, everyone else too, but you especially!

NAVI. | HEROES IN TATTOOS SERIES

TAGLIST : @melinajenkins @aastonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @neeezza101 @chaosofmanyfandoms @storyofaromance @loving-and-dreaming @ghostgardn @mess-is-my-aesthetic @susyelectra @fangirlninja67 @pagesfalling @thepunisherfrankcastle @axeofwars @imarimon @justkiyomi @in-love-with-4-marauders @chicken-taco-burrito @valencia-rou @feast0nmeee @lestat-whore @hvmxjjk @twilightlover2007 @diaryofabiwoman @woohoney @celestialfantasiess @willbedecided @lovelyygirl8 @iiirhiane-g

[b00kdiary]

A Ballad of Flame & Shadow | Azriel

Alex was falling between worlds- falling through worlds- until she landed with Bryce someplace that was definitely not Hel.

And now there was a male before her, the most beautiful male she had ever seen and something other than fear sparked in her heart.

Wattpad & Ao3

CHAPTER ONE:

One moment Bryce and I were running toward the Gate, leaping through the Gate into the chasm of darkness beyond, Rigelus screaming at our backs.

And then the next we were falling.

Not through the worlds but across – as if some God had gripped us by our hair and yanked us sideways, pulling, pulling, pulling, our screams greeting nothing but stars and darkness and emptiness.

There was a pressure in my brain like someone had wrapped their hands around my throat and squeezed, a tightening that felt like fingers pressing down on my eyes to cave them in.

And so much screaming.

And then... grass.

I panted, a burst of pain lancing through my right shoulder as it collided with the ground, as it collided with the green grass below me. Though my head spun so wildly that for a second, I wondered if it was even real.

But I felt it, under my hands, beyond the Harpy's blood coating my palms and fingers, crusting under my nails- grass, dense and damp with condensation.

Hel had grass.

"Hel," I breathed, and it was pure panic that overrode the spinning in my mind, the pain in my body. Pure and undiluted panic as I realised where we had appeared, what likely prowled these lands. "Bryce-Bryce!"

My knees shook as I rose onto them, and I could feel my body begging me to stop- stop moving, stop fighting, just stop. But I didn't, couldn't, not as flashes of Hel's pets passed my mind's eye, those horrific creatures that had attacked Lunathion that day.

Deathstalkers, Kristallos demons- they would rip us to shreds before we even found Aidas.

"Bryce!" I called again- not too loud. I lifted my chin and I saw the Starsword, a few feet in front of me and then I glanced back- to where Bryce lay groaning on the floor. "Shit, shit-"

The air felt different here, thinner, and as I scrambled over to Bryce, half-crawling, half-stumbling, it took all my strength to make it those few feet before I dropped to my knees at her side.

"Alex," Bryce gritted her teeth as I rolled her onto her back, her tan skin ashen her body convulsing. Running from Rigelus's power, opening the Gate with the Horn, getting us both through to Hel- it was all too much for her.

"We need to go," Her amber eyes darted frantically, to and from my face to the darkening sky above. But even her hand clasping mine felt weak, and I knew that she was on the verge of passing out. "Death-deathstalkers, they'll kill us, Alex, we need to go."

"I know, I know," I rasped and something helpless burned behind my eyes as I held her hand, and watched her sneakers dig into the ground for leverage before giving out a second later. "We're not going to make it far with you like this Bryce, we need shelter, we need-"

The mists before us parted and the words died on my tongue as I beheld the land before me- beheld a sight of beauty. A flowing, crystal blue river, a lawn of verdant green grass, kept green grass, and beyond.

"A city," I gasped, and Bryce must not have heard me, not as she tried and failed to bend her knees under her. But I saw it, saw a city of stars and moonlight and prosperity, the kind that Ruhn had shown me pictures of when he had travelled across the Continents.

But there, through the mystified fog and past that winding river- movement. Demons of Hel.

"Bryce, I know you're tired, but you need to get up," I grab her limpening arm, tucking it against me and something twists in my gut at the wet feel of the Harpy's blood on her clothes and mine, the smell that thickened as I grabbed Bryce by the waist to haul her to her feet.

Her amber eyes opened; her head tilted back against my forearm blinking up at my face. And then her eyes widened.

"Alex-"

Too late.

Steel slid against my throat, cold and sharp and I froze.

A male spoke, like death incarnate against the shell of my ear, so close that I felt a tremor ripple across my skin. I didn't recognise the language, but with the hushed tone and the press of that blade against my carotid, I knew not to move.

I didn't even dare breathe.

Bryce grunted as she slipped from my grip and back to the grass, and as her eyes flashed to whatever demon stood behind me, I saw it in her face- her calling to her powers, just as I did now. But it splintered and cracked, shards slipping through my fingers.

I had nothing left to defend with, and if the dull star at Bryce's chest told me anything, it seemed we were out of luck.

That male voice spoke again, demanded something in that foreign tongue and when I still knelt on the ground, palms exposed, begging any who listened for even a flicker of magic to ignite in me, he growled.

Bryce gasped as his large hand clamped down on my shoulder, and I saw her fighting to rise as he hauled me up and twisted me to face him. "Don't fucking touch her."

But I didn't react. Not as I was met with something, unlike any demon I knew existed.

A male- the most beautiful male I had ever seen before. Golden skin, carved bone structure, raven hair. And those eyes were hazel, a sunburst of honey and whiskey, even if they seemed to gleam with violence.

The sight of him surprised me enough that I stumbled back a step and like the warrior he seemed to be, he reacted, his hand falling to my curved waist and gripping me. Something sparked, like a match being lit, at the touch.

And for a second, I think he felt it too, it seemed like those hazel eyes cleared and his tall, muscular form shivered at that spark. Just for a second and then it was gone.

He released my waist, instead wrapping his hand around my wrist, a glint of a blade shining in my peripheral. He spoke again, a quiet voice that seemed to hold no mercy. But I was dumbfounded as I stared at him.

The scale-like obsidian armour, crafted over acres of lean, corded muscle, and so tall I craned my neck to meet his eyes. And those wings, nothing like Hunt's, no, these were vast, black, leathery, tipped with talons that peered over his broad shoulders.

Hunt.

Ruhn.

Something squeezed in my chest and that beautiful face twisted, brows knitting and soft lips tilting down as tears filled my eyes.

"Take us to Aidas," I begged, and I couldn't stop how my body was shaking now. I glanced back at Bryce, braced on her palms and mascara running down her face- as if she too remembered all we had left behind. "Take us to Aidas, Prince Aidas!"

I couldn't stop the tears as they fell and when I jolted forward, curling my hands into the solid, intricate armour he wore, his eyes flashed in warning. But he didn't pull away. I leaned against him, knees near giving out and he seemed to recognise how desperate I was.

He spoke again, softer this time, that rough hand still holding my wrist.

"What the fuck is he saying?" Bryce choked, and I could hear rustling as if she was fighting with everything, she had in her to get up. I could practically hear her screaming in her mind get the fuck up.

"I don't understand, please, just take us to Prince Aidas. We came to Hel; we came for his help-"

"Hel?" He echoed the word sounding jumbled on his lips. I nodded frantically, my nails breaking against his armour, half my body flush against him now and he held my weight up with ease.

"Yes, yes, Hel!" I looked around, gesturing at the misty surroundings, the sky-scrapping trees, the darkening night sky, "What level? What Pit? What Chasm?" But my words seemed to just confuse him even more, dark brows furrowing.

My eyes screwed shut with frustration and I opened my mouth again, to repeat those same words, hoping this time something would click- and then I felt it, felt them.

"Fuck," I gasped, launching back, my fingers untangling from the male before me as I scrambled away. His hand- brutally scarred, I realised- squeezed, but when he saw the fear and panic sullying my eyes, he reluctantly let go.

And I inched back and back and back until I felt Bryce beside me- and she was shaking just as much as I was. Because stood behind that male, were three more... demons? No, no, Fae, two of them were Fae.

We were surrounded now, outnumbered.

"Shit, shit," Bryce hissed and when my eyes met hers, half-risen, legs knocking together as she tried to stand, I saw it on her face- we were fucked, royally fucked. "We can't fucking take them all."

I sucked in a shallow breath and with it, I steeled my spine and forced the alarm to clear from my face. The first male's eyes scrutinised me, observed as I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin, refusing to cower- and I swear his lip tilted at the corner.

"Prince Aidas, we're looking for Prince Aidas," I looked past him, to the two Fae females, beautiful Fae females and another handsome male with wings standing beside them. "Is this Hel?"

One of the females stepped forward, petite in every sense of the word, her dark, cropped hair so at odds with the gleaming silver in her angular eyes- eyes that seemed to look over me, over Bryce, and narrow.

I didn't blame them. We were covered in blood, seeping through our clothes, sticking to our skin, coating our hands and neck, and speckled against our faces. Blood that was not ours.

The other male spoke, just as tall, if not taller than the first with those same hazel eyes and those dark, foreboding wings. He shook his head, long raven hair shifting from his bun, and I watched as the female beside him, pretty and fawn-haired, pursed her lips.

Bryce bared her teeth, red hair swinging in her ponytail as she stepped forward and I fought against my instinct to help, to grab onto her to stop her tumbling over. But we were the prey here, they were the predators and we had to do everything in our power to not become food.

"Is this world Hel?" Bryce asked and something shifted in the air at the sound of the Old Fae Language on her tongue, that petite female flinching at the words. "We need to see Prince Aidas."

The others gaped at the smaller female as if her shock was the most alarming thing about this situation. But I sagged in relief- finally, someone who fucking understood us. But that seemed secondary to her, as that female glanced from the Starsword on the floor at her feet to the first male's dagger at his side.

He slid it free, and it was as if someone had ripped the ground out from under our feet.

"Oh my fucking Gods," It was a twin to the Starsword, a mirror with its dark hilt and engraved blade. And Bryce's hand found mine, tugged me back with her as the Starsword began to glow, vibrating with white magic.

And almost as if in answer the dagger pulsed black.

It fell from the male's hand, alarm breaking through the pure ice hardening his eyes and I would have laughed under different circumstances- laughed at seeing these fully grown, powerful creatures flinching from these weapons.

Except I was fucking terrified too.

"Gwydion," The dark-haired female gasped, red-painted lips parting in shock as she stared down at the Starsword- known by a different name here, a name I had never heard before.

"Please, is this Hel?" I stumbled slightly over the language, unused to the mother tongue of the Old Fae, but still, I locked my intreating gaze onto that female and demanded again, "Is this Hel? We need to find Prince Aidas."

She pursed her lips and Bryce's nails dug into the skin of my palm, her body stiffening under that stare. She looked over us- the mess of make-up smeared across our faces, the clothes and shoes caked in blood, and the bruises and cuts looming over our skin.

So at odds with them, with their outdated attire. For some reason, I thought back to the old fantasy movies Danika used to drag me and Bryce to, just so she could laugh and throw popcorn kernels at the screen.

My heart burned in memory of her.

I saw a blare of blue, bright enough that it had me blinking through the tears that lined my eyes in memory of my friend. As the haze cleared, I locked onto that beautiful male and saw something solemn in his face- like he had felt my grief at that moment.

I didn't have the time to contemplate how.

"No one has spoken that language here in over fifteen thousand years," She spoke, tone clipped and chin high, "I do not know any Aidas here."

"Apollion then," I swallowed, and I felt Bryce sway beside me, hands rubbing at her face, muttering incoherently under her breath. "You must know the Prince of the Pit."

"I do not know of such people," She shook her head, her eyes weary and something in my chest caved, "This is not Hel."

This is not Hel.

Not Hel.

Where the fuck where we?

"Oh Gods," Bryce gasped and this time when she swayed again, I did hold onto her, wrapping her arm over my shoulder and baring her weight. I didn't let the calm mask I donned slip, didn't let them see me as anything other than strong. I couldn't afford to.

"Then where are we?" I asked, voice shaking as I looked between the two females, then the other swaggering male and then finally to the first. And my eyes now noticed the blue jewels embedded into his armour, blazing like sirens.

I locked my gaze on him and for some reason, whatever reason, I felt like he of all of them might take pity on us, have mercy on us. And I let him see that in me, that hope, strong enough that something unreadable whirled through his eyes.

"What world is this?" I breathed, just looking at him and I saw his throat work, that powerful body going unnaturally still. His lips parted as if to speak, but then something happened. I felt it again, that shift in time and space and air.

And then there were two more of them, two more Fae as if they had just appeared- from thin fucking air.

"How fucking many of them are there?" Bryce scoffed, and something like a chuckle rose in me, at how ridiculous this was, how unbelievable. Did the Gods truly hate us so fucking much?

I eyed the female first and watched her wade through the others to the front- lovely, fawn-haired, and her eyes a cloudy blue. They widened slightly at the sight of us, but they held little threat, only weariness.

And then two black, ominous wings erected high behind her, and the breath ripped from my lungs as a third male stepped out- midnight hair, and violet eyes, breathtakingly lovely.

"Ruhn?" My voice broke, and it was Bryce who had to hold me up now, had to keep me from falling to my knees at the sight of that male, so much like the Prince I had left behind on Midgard.

He blinked at me, likely as confused as I was.

And then he turned to the first male, the one with the scarred hands, and they spoke between them. Something almost akin to worry flickering through those hazel eyes as he watched me, the tears now leaking down my face, the haunted expression I wore.

"He-he looks like Ruhn," Bryce gasped, voice barely above a mutter and I heard the emotion clogging her words- for her brother, in the hands of the Asteri, so similar to this male that it physically made us hurt. "Why does he look Ruhn?"

"I don't know, I don't know-" Once the tears started it became hard to stop and Bryce, was beginning to sag in my arms, she was starting to drift in and out of consciousness now and I couldn't hold her for much longer I knew that.

"Please," I looked to the dark-haired female again, and I would be the prey, I would be food, I would chattel if it meant getting them to help us. "My sister is weak, she needs help and-and our world, our home... Midgard, it's in grave danger-"

Hunt, Bryce's mate. My friend.

Ruhn, Bryce's brother. My family and yet so much more.

"Don't- don't tell them anything, Alex," Bryce rasped into my ear, and I was starting to buckle now, teeth gritting as her body got heavier and heavier. "Don't tell-"

"Bryce!" She crumpled to the floor, and I fell with her, knees giving out, slamming into the grass hard enough that I felt the pain through every inch of my body. The Fae before us seemed to startle, but only the first male stepped forward, grass crunching under his boots.

Scarred hands reaching out as if to catch us. Catch me.

"I don't have any magic left, it's-it's depleted, more than depleted," Bryce rested her sweating forehead against my shoulder, and I bit my lip hard enough to taste metal as her eyes fluttered.

"Mine too," I whispered back, and the muttering amongst the others told me they were confused, that us speaking in our native tongue did not sit well with them. They didn't like not knowing what we were saying. "It's going to take a long time for it to come back, we need them to not kill us before then."

"C'mon Alex," Bryce lifted her eyes to mine, dry amusement in them, "Flutter those lashes and throw them a pretty smile, works with the males back home."

Their muttering got louder, and more voices joined in.

"These definitely aren't the males from home," I scoff- only Bryce could make a snarky quip at a time like this. "We don't have this kind of eye candy back home."

"Speak for yourself," Bryce's lip tilted. "Hunt Athalar happens to be my mate."

Her mate. I felt her chest seize in memory of him.

And it's that, that awful hurt in her eyes that makes me exhale with resolve. I draw on every ounce of exhaustion and pain and suffering we had endured these last few days, these last years- and I look back to those Fae with unveiled desperation.

"Please," I say again, and when I picture Ruhn and Hunt, when I picture our parents and our friends, my tears become real, "You have to help us."

The dark-haired female seemed to translate my words to the others, and something almost softened across their faces- kind, these people, they seemed kind. The fawn-haired female, who I noticed had a tapestry of dark whirls tattooed up her right arm, smiled sadly at me and spoke.

"She wants to know your name," the petite one relayed.

I could taste the salt of my tears in my mouth and my throat worked as I searched across all those lovely faces. I stopped at the first male, something tugging at me, an incessant throb that only settled when my eyes found him again.

There was a tense silence as we stared at each other, my arms wrapped around Bryce, holding her weak body to mine, no longer able to open her eyes much less speak. The male saw that, saw that we weren't a threat, at least not right now, and he dipped his head in the barest nod.

As if to say- we won't harm you.

"I'm Alexis Quinlan," I met those violet eyes and tried not to shudder at the thought of Ruhn. I cleared my throat, looking down at Bryce in my embrace, her chest rising and falling- just barely. "This is my sister, Bryce Quinlan."

"Hello, Alexis Quinlan," He stepped forward, a small smile tilting at his gorgeous face and the sound of the Old Language on his tongue was as glorious as night and space itself. "I'm Rhysand."

One moment, Rhysand was smiling and then the next something wholly dark and terrifying eclipsed us.

And then there was nothing but oblivion.

***

Alexis Quinlan- that's what Rhysand said she introduced herself as.

Even the sound of her name made something in my chest spark, a call in answer to her.

I felt as if I knew her somehow, felt as if we had met before- it was that feeling that stopped me from sliding Truth-teller into the junction of her throat when I found her earlier. It was the shiver that ran down me when I grabbed her waist that made me stop.

Made it impossible for me to harm her despite every instinct in me screaming that she was a stranger, a threat against this Court, against my family, against everything I held dear.

Even if another instinct in me whispered that she was anything but.

"Azriel," Rhysand's voice broke through the wall of confusion and intrigue that had erected the moment I laid eyes on her, and it took all my power to slide my gaze to his and look unfazed. "What are you thinking?"

I glanced at where the two females lay, nestled together on the small cot, faces calm as they slumbered. My lips pursed at the first female, Alexis, and the blood that caked her- matted in her long, chocolate hair, crusting against her tawny skin, staining the tight, unusual clothes she wore.

Not a threat and yet she was covered in blood that was not hers.

"They said they came from another world- Midgard- how?" I forced away the incessant thoughts of her, jaw locking as my shadows danced across my form- whispering, whispering, whispering, just about her. "They possess Gwydion but seemed surprised by Truth-Teller."

My hands clenched at my sides; the dagger sheathed at my hip no longer pulsing with that dark, unnatural energy in answer to Gwydion. It was alarming, seeing the blade I had cherished and wielded for so many years suddenly become unfamiliar to me, become other.

"She said their world was in grave danger, that they needed help," Amren mused, her slender arms folding over her chest as she stood beside me and Rhysand, her eyes assessing those females with lethal scrutiny. "Who's to say whatever they fear hasn't followed them straight to us, if the danger even exists."

I thought back to first discovering them- weak, no power left in them, if they had any at all and she had cried- amber eyes welling with tears as she held onto me. I felt it as sure as if it were my own, her grief, her desperation.

It had felt real.

"They did not seem disingenuous," Rhysand's violet eyes moved between Amren and me, the cavernous walls so at odds with the stars in his eyes but seemed to match perfectly with his deep-set frown. "And if they were going to attack, would they not have taken their chances against Azriel, before reinforcements arrived?"

"Whatever they endured has left them defenceless, they couldn't have taken Azriel even if they wanted to," Amren examined her sharp, glistening nails, her tone almost bored, "Wake them Rhysand, all these assumptions are pointless. We need them to tell us the truth."

It seemed unlikely they would tell us anything, not willingly, not if the way Alexis had steeled her spine and raised her chin as my court surrounded her was any indication. And her sister, Bryce, had bared her teeth, enough ire in her eyes to translate the curses that fell from her lips.

These were not weak females, not feeble by any account. My power seemed to rally at that reminder, that they were the enemy until proven otherwise. And as Rhysand let a wave of his magic brush over them, pulling them free from their unconscious- I let my mask slip back into place.

Shadowsinger. Spymaster. Darkness incarnate.

The females stirred, dark lashes fluttering and the three of us braced ourselves as they both sucked in sharp, lungfuls of air and shot up. Bryce, red hair swinging violently, and teeth bared, reached back- for Gwydion- and her painted nails met nothing but air.

But the other female, Alexis, sprung out of the cot and to her feet- but she didn't reach for a weapon. No, my brows rose as her hands curled, palms exposing and- nothing. Nothing came from it.

"She reached for her magic, but there isn't anything left," Rhysand muttered, interest lacing his tone and I nodded gravely in agreement, watching her breath stutter from her in realisation. "They have power, enough that it's her first instinct to call for it."

"And they're trained," I said lowly, watching their eyes flicker over themselves, over each other, and the cavernous walls that surrounded them. "The sister went for Gwydion first, and now they're assessing the space- these are no novices."

Their eyes slid to us as if knowing we spoke about them. And rightfully so fear crept up their faces as they took in the scene, the three of us, the cell they were trapped in and not a weapon or a speck of magic left in them.

The grate behind us hissed and Alexis groaned, muttering something in her language, amusing enough that the female behind her cracked a dry smile. They shifted to stand before the cot, their eyes unflinching upon us.

Rhysand stepped forward and I didn't miss how Alexis stiffened and shifted in front of Bryce- her protector perhaps? Or maybe whatever they were, she thought her sister's life more valuable than her own.

Rhysand spoke in that Old Fae language, translating mind to mind. His hand extended, wreathed in stars and moonlight, two small beans lying in his palm. "Here, swallow this and it will translate our mother tongue to you, allow you to speak it too."

Bryce scoffed, looking at the bean as if it were a vial of poison. My head cocked when Alexis folded her arms across her chest, her dark brow raising at Rhys and she spoke, something sardonic crossing her lovely face.

Rhys laughed- and I glanced at him in surprise. Even Amren's lip quirked at the corner.

"She said," Rhysand's eyes met mine and danced with enough amusement that my shadows hushed, "That she doesn't swallow- no matter how nicely a pretty male may ask."

I chuckled quietly at that, and something akin to approval hummed in my chest as my gaze shifted to hers. And it blared brighter when she tilted her chin in challenge, every inch of her soft body turning still at my attention.

"If we were going to kill you, we wouldn't need to use poison," Amren drawled, Rhysand translating again. The females met each other's eyes and Bryce said something, something that made Alexis flash her a smile- a devastating smile.

Bryce's hand trembled barely as she plucked the beans from Rhysand's palm, careful not to touch him and there was silence as they slipped it between their parted lips, grimacing as they swallowed it dry.

They gasped- in pain I realised, and it became increasingly difficult to stay rooted in place as they bucked, as she writhed, body convulsing, eyes screwed shut. I gritted my teeth as Bryce slumped back onto the bed, reeling, Alexis now bracing her palms against the cave walls to keep herself steady.

"If you were trying to hurt us a fucking knife would have done the job just as well," Alexis scowled, panting as she held the wall. My shadows skittered at the sound of her voice- soft and melodic to my ears.

"Poison might have been better than... whatever the fuck that was," Bryce said, husky voice half-muffled by the hand at her mouth as if she was forcing down bile - an answer to the pain that had thrashed her insides apart moments before.

"My apologies," Rhysand smiled, sounding anything but apologetic and their eyes narrowed as if they knew that. "But the language barrier was growing tedious, wouldn't you say?"

Bryce mumbled something incoherent, and we watched as she rose to her feet again, both their faces tight with discomfort as they steadied themselves, standing side by side as they had before and faced us.

They wanted answers as much as we did it seemed.

"You said your names were Alexis and Bryce Quinlan," Amren took a step forward, and her gaze slid over them, unimpressed. But to their credit they didn't baulk, if anything Alexis mirrored that look, taking in Amren's clothes with veiled humour. "You say you came from another world- if you are to be believed, how did you come here? Why?"

"Where is here?" Bryce swallowed, gaze flickering over the space again, "What world is this?"

"Why do you speak the Old Language?" Amren argued, eyes narrowing.

"Why do you?" Bryce countered, jerking her chin and Alexis rolled her pretty eyes, already tired of the back and forth- it nearly made me smile.

"Why are you covered in blood that is not your own?" Amren's red lips tilted into a cruel smile and- silence. They didn't speak for several moments.

And then something else overtook them. Panic overtook them. They looked down at the blood, covering them and whatever had happened, whatever they endured at home, those memories came back with a vengeance.

Bryce began to hyperventilate, her breath sawing in and out and she looked around the room, eyes wide, as if the walls were beginning to close in.

"Bryce," Alexis grabbed her sister's hand, silver-lined her eyes as she looked at her, "Bryce, don't think about it, don't think about them, please Bryce-"

"We won't harm you," Rhysand frowned, and they seemed to realise the comfort in the words, and the warning too. My throat worked, my head spinning with so many thoughts as she grabbed her sister's hand, anchoring her, and met our eyes again.

"What world is this?" Alexis demanded, and I could see it, as she looked at us one by one, the power she might wield, the magic lying dormant in her veins. She looked to Amren, unafraid. "You said no one has spoken the Old Language here in fifteen thousand years. Why?"

"How did you come to be in possession of the lost sword Gwydion?" Amren countered and this time Alexis bared her teeth, sharp canines exposing with a soft snarl. That sound glided down my spine and over my wings.

"I thought we agreed that we didn't want to have tedious conversations?" She said, and Amren's smile broadened- as if recognising a worthy opponent. "Or should we keep asking each other questions while giving no fucking answers?"

"You mean the Starsword?" Bryce rasped, giving a hint of an answer- but none of us spoke. Her eyes rolled, a mirror to the face her sister had made minutes ago, and she sighed. "It's a family heirloom, It's been in our world since our ancestors brought it over...fifteen thousand years ago."

Alexis met Amren's eyes, and something whirled in them, something sarcastic- as if to say see, that's called answering the fucking question.

My shadows crooned at that look.

"How did you find this world?" Rhysand asked, and rightfully so, they both seemed uneasy in his presence, seemed to recognise that he was in charge.

"We didn't," Alexis sighed, "Like we said: we wanted to go to Hel. We landed here instead."

"How?" Rhysand's voice sharpened and they both grimaced at the sound that came hissing from the grate, as if sensing their High Lord's anger and pleading for a taste.

"How much do you wanna bet they're gonna feed us to whatever the fucks hissing in there?" Bryce mused, wincing at the sound and Alexis nodded, looking at the grate with dread.

"We're not exactly the most palatable females, Bryce," Alexis tucked her long, dark hair behind an arched ear and chuckled wryly, talking as if we weren't even here, "Maybe it'll taste the sarcasm in our blood and be uninterested?"

She quirked a brow, teasing her sister- at a time like this they were teasing each other.

"I can assure you that that they don't discriminate," I flashed my teeth in a wicked smile, and Alexis's eyes locked with mine at the sound of my quiet tone, hands clenching at the cruel amusement in my eyes. "They like the taste of a pretty female, sarcastic or not."

She sucked in a shallow breath at that, her shapely chest rising and falling in waves as she stared at me. There was silence, and I knew the others were looking at us, between us, sensing the battle of wills that raged.

"Look, I just watched my mate and my brother get captured by a group of intergalactic parasites," Bryce snarled, and I straightened at the anger in her voice. "We have no interest in doing anything except finding a way to help them."

Her brother. Not our brother.

I narrowed my eyes and looked between them then- they didn't look remotely alike that much was obvious, nor did they smell alike, their blood completely different. Sisters, but not by blood, sisters in the same way that Rhysand and Cassian were my brothers.

"Explain." That's all Amren said. And they looked at each other, seemed to read the words on each other's faces and then turned back to us and said nothing. Amren sighed, "Just look into their minds already, Rhys."

"Don't even think about it," Alexis hissed, angling herself before her sister again and she glared at Rhysand with true terror in her eyes. A mirror to how Bryce looked at him.

"I do not pry where I am not willingly invited," Rhysand said quietly, his face not yielding even an inch of how he felt. Bryce's eyes narrowed, and Alexis showed another sarcastic smile.

"Gods be good, there are some decent males left in this galaxy," She drawled, utterly unimpressed, "However may we thank you for not invading our minds and rifling through them. Should we bow in the face of such virtue, Bryce?"

"It's definitely something to revere," Bryce looked at her sister, and chuckled, "A male with a code of mind-speaking ethics."

Rhysand paused, entertained if the constellations in his eyes told me anything. And even I fought back my astonishment, my smile, surprised by these females.

"Then we'll have to rely on your words," Rhysand grinned, snapped his fingers, and then settled onto one of the three chairs that appeared behind us, crossing an ankle over a knee.

"I was wrong before Bryce, these males are just like the ones back home," Alexis muttered, rolling her eyes at Rhysand's dramatics, before dropping onto the cot behind her with a sigh. "Beauty and arrogance, nothing new here."

Bryce fought a smile, sitting beside her sister, so close their thighs brushed, as if needing the other for comfort, for support.

"Amren," Rhysand smiled lazily at the frowning female, gesturing to the chair and then to me, "Azriel." I dropped onto the chair, tucking my wings behind me, and bracing my arms on my knees.

Her eyes were on me. As if hearing my name had the same effect as when I had heard hers.

"You say your sword has been in your world for fifteen thousand years?" Rhysand asked, and if I knew Rhys then he was more than pleased that she thought him beautiful, liked that she considered him arrogant.

My stomach lurched at the thought for some reason, her thinking him beautiful. I shoved it down, deep within me, not daring to think of it again. Think of why I even cared.

"Brought by our ancestors- Queen Theia or Prince Pelias, depending on what propaganda you hear." Bryce said a shade hesitantly, but upon seeing Amren stiffen, seeing her react, her brow rose, "You know of them?"

"No one has spoken those names here in a very, very long time," Amren swallowed, and Rhysand had gone still- if Amren was worried, then we all should be. "They once dwelled here."

"So, this is it, this is where we- the Midgard Fae- came from," Alexis was breathless, like the piece of the puzzle they had been missing slid into place. "Our ancestors left this world and went to Midgard, but we forgot where we came from."

Rhysand looked at me and I shook my head, lips pursing, never before heard of such stories involving our people migrating through worlds. But then he looked to Amren- and Cauldron, she looked shaken.

"It's murky, I went in before-" Amren glanced to the girls and didn't continue that sentence, "But when I came out there were rumours- many people vanishing, some said to another world, others said they'd moved to distant lands, rumours that they had been chosen by the Cauldron and spirited away."

Something cold lit through me at her words, getting colder still when Amren lifted her eyes and sharpened them upon the females. "What I want to know is why you came here when you meant to go elsewhere?"

"Join the line, Amren," Alexis said, biting down on her name sharply. She wasn't afraid, stupid, or brave, I couldn't tell but my shadows seemed to enjoy it all the same. "We want to know the same thing- we have no desire to be here."

"You wish to go to Hel," Rhysand said, not a shift in his tone, "To find this Prince Aidas."

At his question, they again glanced at each other and knew just from each other's faces, their eyes, what to do. It was intrinsic, just as I was with my brothers, on killing fields, in council meetings, in situations of peril, I could see exactly what my brothers thought just from something as simple as a blink.

"Allow me to lay out the situation for you, Bryce and Alexis Quinlan," Rhysand leaned forward, and they both met his stare- warriors, fighters, survivors, that's what I saw in them. "We will not torture you or pry into your mind. If you choose to talk or not, is indeed your choice."

"Let me guess," Alexis cocked her head, silken hair sliding over her shoulder as she met those star-flecked eyes, "Just like it's your choice to leave us down here to rot. Until these four walls drive us fucking crazy and we have no choice but to tell you whatever you want."

"That's torture, isn't it, Alex?" Bryce mused sarcastically, her brows furrowing in faux perplexion.

"Yes, it is, Bryce," Alexis drawled, locking her ankles and meeting Rhysand's gaze again, "Chivalrous torture though- because you know, they have a code to follow after all."

Cauldron, under different circumstances these females, I think I would rather like them. Rhys seems to share my sentiment, a rumble of laughter dancing through my mind. Rhys smiled- and snapped his fingers. In an instant, they were clean- of blood, of gore, of whatever else they had been coated in.

Beautiful. That's the word that sprang to me first at the sight of her, just beautiful.

"To incentivise you," Rhys gave a half smile, more menacing than anything else. Another shared glance between the girls and then a defeated sigh.

"The Asteri are ancient, tens of thousands of years old and they arrived in our world fifteen thousand years ago," Bryce said, and something sullen flashed through her eyes, as if in memory.

"What do you mean by arrived?" Rhysand pushed.

"Honestly, we have no idea how they first got to Midgard." Bryce shrugged and Rhysand's face softened at the agony in her eyes, her scent turning cold, as if she could still feel them, whatever they were.

"The history has spun them as liberators, they found Midgard little more than a backwater planet inhabited by humans and animals and they created a perfect empire- a place where creatures and races from other worlds came to through a giant hole called the Northern Rift." Alexis continued, frowning, "It now only opens to Hel, but it used to open to everywhere, anywhere."

"What happened when these creatures arrived from other worlds?" Rhysand asked, his voice tight now.

"The official history is that Hel tried to invade Midgard but the Asteri in all their glory unified these people under one banner and banished the Princes back to Hel. The Northern Rift was fixed, with its destination set on Hel. A massive wall was built to keep out any demons that come through the cracks and the Asteri's indomitable empire lives happily ever after."

"And the unofficial history?" Rhysand asked, a shade more quietly.

Alexis looked at her sister, saw the question in those eyes- and then nodded, solemnly. Bryce turned back to us, bracing herself with a shaky inhale and exhale.

"The Asteri are ancient, immortal beings who harvest off the magic of a world, of its people and then eat it. We call it firstlight, it fuels our world. We're required to hand it over when we reach immortality, we seize our full power through a ritual called the drop and they siphon off pieces of it- like a tax on our magic."

"A tithe," Amren gasps- I've never heard Amren gasp before, even Rhysand looks alarmed by the soft sound. They furrow their brow but when Amren doesn't continue, Alexis swallows, continuing the tale.

"Midgard is one of many in a long line of worlds invaded by the Asteri. They have an entire archive full of planets they've conquered or tried to conquer- we saw it before we came here." Alexis clenched her eyes shut, haunted by the memory, "There were only three planets that managed to kick their asses to the curb- Hel, a planet called Iphraxia, and a world occupied by Fae, the original Starborn Fae."

"My sword- you know it by a different name," Bryce looked to Amren, who nodded slowly, "I think it came from this world- was forged here. It was a part of your history and then vanished, right? Hasn't been seen in fifteen thousand years? It lines up with the timeline of the Starborn Fae arriving in Midgard."

Worry- it bloomed over us, all of us like a phantom touch. And something uneasy furled in my gut, the way these females had appeared, the light and dark call and answer between Gwydion and Truth-teller- it was not right.

"We learned that long before the Asteri found Midgard, they were here- but you kicked them out, you defeated them," Alexis's face turned pleading then, desperate, "How? How did you defeat them?"

"Our history doesn't include any such event like that," Rhysand said- but the look he gave Amren, spoke of something more.

"The Asteri remember you- and they're pissed off," Alexis scoffed, and my shadows lurched at her words, at the threat these Asteri posed. "Rigelus, their leader, basically said it's his personal mission to find this place and fucking destroy it. You're number one on his list."

Alexis trembled as she said his name- Rigelus, and her scent darkened in fear, in repulsion. And something awful rose in me at the smell, at whatever he had done to make her shake that way- something dark and terrible and deadly.

"It is our history, Rhysand," Amren said gravely, and we both went still, "But the Asteri were not known by that name- we called them the Daglan." I jolted, wings rustling, and Rhysand's face turned ashen, golden skin leeching of colour.

Cauldron fucking spare us, the Asteri are the Daglan.

"How did you defeat them?" Alexis tried again, hope beaming in her eyes now, "Do you have any record about how they fell?"

"Nothing beyond old songs of bloody battles and tremendous losses," Amren frowned, and that hope, fuck, it dimmed and dimmed and then completely vanished from her eyes.

"You think that these Asteri want to come back here for revenge?" Rhys asked, shaking his head like he didn't quite believe it. "After fifteen thousand years?"

"These are petty, arrogant bastards, fifteen thousand years is like five minutes when it comes to Rigelus when it comes to his revenge," Alexis said, her face twisting with ice, "He has infinite time and resources to-"

"What resources?" Rhysand cut in, and now, there was not an inch of amusement to be seen on his face. No, his High Lord's instinct had taken over.

"I don't even know where to start explaining it," Alexis shook her head, looked at her sister, frowned and then turned back to us, reaching out a small, shaking hand to Rhys. "I'll show you."

That darkness twisted in my gut again, at the thought of his hand touching hers. I thrust it down with the other ludicrous emotions and thoughts that plagued me.

"One moment," Rhys frowned, knowing better than to fall so easily into a trap. He vanished, and an emotion akin to relief filled me, as she lowered her hand back to her lap with a dazed blink.

"You can teleport here?" Bryce asked, but not really asking.

"We call it winnowing," Amren said, and my lip tilted at their reactions. "Can you two, do it?"

Another short glance- and two heads shaking no. My smirk widened.

"No," Alexis squared her shoulders, meeting my eyes and raising a brow at me, "There are only two Fae who can."

"On your entire planet?" Amren started, "Only two?"

Liar- I let her see that word in my eyes, even as she bared her teeth slightly at me, before turning away, dismissing me.

"Let me guess," Bryce smiled barely, "You have more?"

"Only the most powerful, but yes. Many can here." Amren's words cut off as Rhysand appeared between us again and I lifted a brow at what he held between his hands. "The Veritas Orb?"

"Hold it, think of what you want to show us, and the memories shall be captured within for us to view." Rhysand nodded to the orb at his feet. The girls frowned, muttered something, a word I didn't understand- camera- I think and then nodded in resolve.

Alexis rose on stiff legs, tugging at her clothes almost subconsciously, and no one spoke as she waded forward on silent feet. She paused before it, glanced at Rhysand, then Amren and then me- I tried not to appear like I wanted to kill her.

She bent down, short fingers curling around the orb and my throat worked at the slip of flesh that was revealed as she leaned forward, my eyes averting away from the display of golden skin and full breasts.

She rose, top mercifully slipping back into place and my eyes met hers- they danced with humour, knowing what I had seen, knowing that I had chosen to look away. My shadows flanked me excitedly, even as my face remained a sheet of darkness.

"Here goes nothing," She muttered, stepping back and then she closed her eyes and held that ball. It was a few seconds, if not more, before she fluttered her dark lashes, and then rolled the ball back to Rhysand.

He picked it up, touched the top and everything, all the horrors within began to play out.

Dread, pure fucking dread lined us all.

"Guns," Bryce said pointing to a human man holding some sort of weapon in his hands, hitting a target from miles away. "Brimstone missiles." A furious explosion, a flash of blinding white light and then... everything was in ruin, rubble. "Omega-boats." Some sort of underwater ship, with more of those weapons within.

"Asteri." Alexis breathed and when the male came onto the screen, dark-haired and gangly, she looked away, couldn't face him even in her own memories. And as a white-hot power blasted from him, shattering stone and glass and everything in his way, I could see why.

"You live in such a world?" Rhysand swallowed thickly, and they just nodded. "And they wish to bring all those things here?" Another grim nod.

Her eyes were on me, observing me but I didn't meet them, pushed the feel of them away. I stared at that orb, at the horror shown within and I knew that we were fucked, that against those monstrosities, Prythian would stand little chance.

Guns, missiles, omega-boats, the Asteri- it would be a catastrophe beyond anything that the Hybern war had seen.

"Bryce-" Her voice shook suddenly, panicked and my gaze tore from that orb. To where the other female hunched and groaned- to where her back glowed- "Bryce- Bryce, stop!"

Rhysand's magic pulsed and so did mine- and before they could strike, I lunged.

"Stay the fuck away from her!" Alexis snarled as I stood before them, Truth-teller in my hand, poised to attack. I inched closer- but then that darkness began to leak from the blade again, and I stopped at the sight.

"Put it away," Amren hissed, "It sings for her, and by bringing it close-" It was gone whisked away by my shadows within a blink.

Alexis glowered at me but then she turned and met her sister's pale face and concern softened her expression. But that light still pulsed- bright, shimmering, iridescent- and the panic in both their eyes, told us everything they had tried to hide.

"The glowing letters inked on her back," Amren muttered, Rhys stood by my side now, watching those closely, "They're the same as those in the Book of Breathings."

They seemed to notice the shift in the air, the power rumbling through the stone and the way they stared back, the way she stared back, told me that they wouldn't go down easy.

"Explain or die." 

____________________________

A/N:

HERE WE HAVE IT, CHAPTER ONE OF MY AZRIEL FANFIC!

This is a little sneak peek into what's to come but if you want to read the rest of this fanfic I am uploading it on Wattpad and AO3 (linked) My Wattpad handle is @itzwhatever and my ao3 handle is @b00kdiary

So excited to continue this story, I've been thinking about it for MONTHS.

@hellodarling1357 @charlineraven @starrystarkey93 @mockingjaytributes @nelapeach14 @alessiazeni @bishhh2003 @impossibelle @firebreathingbishqueen @lovely-susie @sarawritestories @hellowinterlane @minnieoo @charlineraven @acotarfics-mharmie009

[builtbybrokenbells]

CAPITAL VICES | ENVY

Envy: the intense desire to have something that someone else possesses.

Masterlist

Listen while reading: Poison - Alice Cooper

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 15.5k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), dom/sub, sir kink, praise, degradation, bratty sub, lots of dirty talk, name calling, overstimulation, forced orgasm if you squint, drinking, swearing, fighting, mentions of cheating, mentions of breakups/breakups, mentions of hookups, mentions of substance/addiction/withdrawal, mentions of divorce/bad past relationships, mentions of death/dying, mentions of loss of a parent/grief, guilt, regret, depression, general sadness, anxiety, jealousy/possessiveness, very brief mention of guns, sorry if i miss any!

😘 as always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!!

The haze of smoke in the room was becoming overwhelming, and even though it would normally be enticing, now it seemed nothing short of a nuisance. A basket of fries sat in front of you, ketchup lazily pooling next to the pile of fried food. Although originally put there for a dipping sauce, now it’s only purpose was to make the fries soggy and even more unappetizing. Your hunger seemed to have fled you, but in truth, never really existed in the first place. You only convinced yourself to order it as an attempt to resume some sort of normalcy to what life was like months ago. A triple whiskey sat in front of you, deliciously tempting, but the exact opposite of what you needed to feel better. Ray approached you, a knowing look in his eye and his usual, raggedy towel slung over his shoulder.

“Been a while, darlin’.” He leaned on the countertop, looking down at your untouched order. “Missed ya.”

“Yeah, I guess it has.” You chuckled, swirling your ice around your glass. “How’ve you been?”

“Livin’.” He replied, taking a long look over your face. “And you?”

“Oh, you know.” You forced a smile onto your lips, beginning to realize that coming out was the worst thing you could have done. “Working, sleeping, and working some more. An exciting life I live.” You neglected to mention the days of wallowing that had come before your arrival at the bar and the horrific heartbreak you were experiencing. Now that you did not have Jake to occupy your time, you had decided to return to your weekly Friday night routine; drinking yourself into oblivion at the bar and falling asleep alone. What used to be so fantastic was now gut-wrenching, and the thought of returning to an empty bed was killing you.

It had been about a week since your blowout with Jake, and he did well to heed your wishes. Not once had he tried to reach out, and neither did you. As the days dragged on and no contact was had, you slowly started to understand that the relationship was over, and all you could do was mourn what was once so beautiful. Instead of trying to fix things, you thought it was easier to tend to your wounds in seclusion and move forward with your life instead. You hadn’t even so much as looked at a picture of him or spoken his name, and you didn’t plan on it. If you knew one thing about healing, it was that doubling back only ever made it hurt worse.

You missed him, but not nearly enough to lose your dignity by begging for him to come back. If he did not want you, and sex was the only thing you were good for, so be it. He got his fill, and you would not lose any more respect for yourself by running back to him and trying to get him to see you were worth more than that.

“Not spending time with that guy who was with you the other night?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as he waited for a response.

“No, definitely not.” You gave a chuckle, shaking your head. “Waste of my time, Ray.” You reminded, forcing him to recall your many drunken ramblings about men.

“He do wrong by you?” He asked, trying to get to the bottom of your quiet brooding. You shifted in your seat, taking a long sip from your beverage.

“No,” you shook your head. “I started it.” You confessed.

“Don’t think you’d be this upset if he didn’t do anything wrong.” He said, polishing the rims of a few glasses that just came from the dishwasher. You shrugged your shoulders, finding the familiar burn of the whiskey comforting. Finally, you seemed to find some sort of connection to the version of you that lived before Jake, even if it was through cheap liquor and the company of an old bartender.

“He did, but the blame is still on me. He might have done wrong, but I was the one who let him.” You let your eyes focus on the grain of the wood in the bar counter, finding it easier to avoid eye contact.

“Darlin’, I think it’s time you stop blaming yourself for everything. What others do to you isn’t your fault, and you’re allowed to be mad at someone other than yourself.” He sat another drink in front of you, noticing you were already running low on liquor. “That one’s on the house.”

“Four daughters really taught you a thing or two about advice.” You gave a solenn smile. “I’ll try my best.”

“Four daughters gave me a lot more than good advice.” He chuckled, wiping down the table as he spoke. The fatherly tone sent your heart into agony. He was so proud of his children, and nearly every time you visited the bar, you heard about all of their accomplishments and struggles. It was a beautiful thing to see a father love his children so dearly, but you could not refute the jealousy that plagued you every time you listened to the stories.

It was not jealousy over the fact you did not have a good father and they did, because in your opinion, your father was the best one in the entire world. You were jealous that yours was not around to speak such admiration about you to others, and he was not there to pat you on the back and speak his own advice. You missed him with a fervor, and in the last week, it was more intense than it had been in a very long time. You wished so badly that you could have your dad by your side, speaking truth about the stupidity of boys and speaking praise about how you were better than what Jake made you feel.

Your mother, of course, could do all of the same things, and your sister too, but it was not the same. Missing your father was the most difficult thing you had ever done, and it made you want to seclude yourself until the pain passed through. You did not want to reach out to the rest of your family for the same formalities; he was the only person who could truly make you feel better, and it had always been that way. You were angry that he was not here to help you through what seemed like your biggest heartbreak yet, even including the broken marriage that crumbled before you ever grew into an adult.

The heartbreak Jake had caused was violent, devastating and above all, deadly. It came about in such a way because your feelings for him creeped up on you, silent and unforgiving as you fell hopelessly in love with him. You had never got along with anyone else so swimmingly, and nobody else in the world had ever made you feel like he did. Most of all, it hurt so badly because he was the last person in the world you expected to hurt you.

He was the first person you trusted enough to know such intimate details about your life, and the first person in which you opened up to without a paralyzing amount of fear. You knew that you had done wrong, and you should not have let your past experience define what could have been with Jake, and if you could, you would take it all back in a heartbeat. You wished you had the ability to respond without all of the defenses you built up so high, and you wished that you could have swallowed your pride enough to realize that all he wanted to do was care for you. You loved Jake more than you ever thought you could, and if you had the chance to do it all again with the same outcome, you still would.

You knew that his response was due to his own hurt, but it did not take away from the things he said to you. You hurt him so much by rejecting him so bluntly and without hesitation, and you regretted it immensely. Jake was the last person you wanted to treat so poorly, because he was the first person to show you kindness at the hands of another. But, when you thought about his harshness for too long, a wave of nauseous overtook you and tears filled your eyes. You had hurt him, but he had hurt you just the same. You did not want to blame him for his actions, especially knowing that they came from a place of pain, but you could not choke down the bitter taste of his insults. If he could change his mind so quickly, you worried that maybe he thought that way all along.

The hurt also stemmed from your complete transparency with him. You opened up, told him more than you’d ever told anyone else, and moments later, he threw your relationship back in your face and denounced it to meaningless sex. To you, the sex was all but meaningless, and you truly thought it meant just as much to him. After the months of shared nights and memories that would stick with you for a lifetime, you hoped that you meant more to him than sexual gratification. You poured your heart out to him, telling stories of a failed marriage and a dead father in hopes that he would keep it safe and maybe in turn, take some weight off your shoulders. It was incredibly difficult for you to tell him so much, especially when you dedicated your entire life to keeping it hidden. It killed you to know that he would turn into a stranger again even after knowing you so well, and that your biggest secrets were in the hands of someone who you no longer wanted to know.

You were so caught up in your internal brooding that you didn't even notice Ray leave your side, nor did you hear the chime of the bell sound above the front door. It was not like you would have turned to look anyway; your interest in anything other than getting drunk was greatly lacking, and worrying about what others were doing would only hold you back from your intentions. If you found yourself concerned about the happenings of everyone else, it was take too long to get to the level of drunkenness you aspired to be, and you would have to stay at the bar far longer than you wanted.

You were a creature of habit, and despite your lack of desire to be at the bar, you needed to feel like yourself again. The only way you could do that was to carry on as if Jake Kiszka never stumbled into your life at all.

Your second drink was threatening the end when you felt someone take a seat beside you. You would not have turned to look if they did not extend a warm greeting, and even then, you wished you had ignored it.

“Hey, Josh.” You forced a smile, knowing that he was the worst person you could have encountered, only second to Jake himself.

“Fancy meeting you here, friend who is a girl.” You were certain that he had just reached out and stabbed you in the chest. The pain was unbearable, and it was nearly blinding. You kept your eyes glued to the glass in your hand, unsure if you could maintain eye contact without breaking down. Then, a fleeting feeling of fear ran through you. ‘Friend who is a girl’ was an awfully endearing term for someone who just broke his twin brothers heart. Either Josh did not know what transpired between you and Jake, or he was exceptionally good at hiding it.

“It is my favourite bar, after all.” You tried to joke with him, but it only made your chest ache with even more intensity.

“I knew there was a reason Jake suggested this place.” He chuckled, having an a-ha moment as he pieced the puzzle together. “It all makes sense now.” He gave an airy sigh, turning to the bartender to order a drink. “And one for her too, please.”

“Oh, Josh, no need for that-“

“I insist.” He was so similar to his brother that it was scary. As you waited for the drinks, you pondered his elusive words for a moment. From all that you knew about Josh, he did not seem deceitful in the slightest. If anything, he seemed like he was a terrible liar. Josh did not know a single thing that transpired, and you would be damned if you were the one to tell him.

Then, an evil idea infiltrated your sorrowful mind. If you pushed Josh in the right direction, he might have the answers to all of the questions you’d been wondering about in the past week.

Your sin had not only effected your relationship with Jake; now, it seemed to have an impact on every aspect of your life, including relationships with even the furthest of acquaintances.

“So Jake wanted to come here tonight?” You asked, trying your best to put on a mask of confidence. You yourself had never been very well versed in deceit, but you knew that it was your only shot at getting any real answers. God knows you would never reach out to Jake yourself, and his twin brother seemed to be the only chance at finding out the truth.

“Yeah, he was pretty adamant about it. I wasn’t sure why until I walked in and saw you sitting up here all alone.” He gave you a grin, turning to thank the bartender as he slid the drinks your way. “I’ll start a tab, too.” Ray nodded, raising an eyebrow at you, the expression full of inquiry. You waved him off, making it clear that you would stay to chat about it later.

“Thank you,” you replied, taking a sip from your new beverage. He shrugged you off, the gesture small and nothing that was requiring of a thanks.

“Jake was sick all week, so when he asked us all to come out, we jumped at the chance. He skipped practice and everything, which is really unlike him. I’ve seen him pick up that guitar with pneumonia.” He chuckled.

“Oh, wow. I didn’t know.” You breathed, realizing then that he took the separation just as hard as you did.

“I’m surprised you didn’t catch it from him. He was so sick he couldn’t even get out of bed. I went over to his place once, but he was asleep so I just let him be.” Josh had no idea, but you were indeed suffering from the same sickness that Jake had. Heartbreak was more deadly than any other virus, and the two of you were plagued with it. Apparently Jake had the same idea as you and was hoping for a peaceful night to drink the despair away. Or, he was plotting for the absolute opposite.

“Yeah, that is strange. He never told me he was sick.” You muttered, lying through your teeth. Of course he didn’t tell you he was sick; he hadn’t told you anything at all since the last time you saw him.

“So was this planned, or is he just pulling a classic Jake move and hoping he’ll run into you?” Josh raised an eyebrow.

“Definitely not planned, so it must be the latter.” You took another long drink from your glass, wondering when the whiskey would satiate the hurt in your heart. When the burn did not even come close to the painful ache, you worried that it might be permanent.

“Something on your mind, friend who is definitely not a girlfriend? You seem off.” You caught his eye, nearly laughing at his statement. He was correct, you were definitely not a girlfriend, and now it was unlikely that you ever would be. You hated the fact that the option was no longer possible, because being his girlfriend no longer seemed like the worst thing in the world. If anything, you almost liked the idea.

“Lots, but nothing important.” You admitted, knowing that you could never profess such feelings to the brother of the man you loved so deeply. Telling Josh before Jake would be blasphemous, and you could not bring yourself to involve him in the mess you made. Well, any further, anyway.

“I think it’s important,” he assured you, trying to hold your gaze in hopes that his eyes would speak the truth better than his words could. You gave him a soft smile, appreciating his kindness but painfully aware that you were undeserving of it. Once he knew the truth, you were certain he would like you a lot less than he did in that moment. You felt guilty that you were maintaining a conversation with him after hurting Jake so much, but you could not explain your need to talk to him. He was the closest thing you had to a friend, even if you did not know him very well. More than that, he reminded you of the boy you missed with such intensity. When you spoke to him, he gave that same sense of home, even if he was not the home you were in need of. He was the vacation while you awaited retirement.

“It’s just work stuff. Had a particularly hard client, and I’m just trying to forget about it.” You lied with ease, the dishonesty beginning to turn your soul black and your morals upside down. For your entire life, you valued the truth, and ever since you met Jake, it seemed like you’d forgotten all about it. You lied to him about your feelings, and now you were lying to his brother, too. You were unrecognizable, the sinful months beginning to morph you into someone you tried so hard to run away from. The devil worked fast, and you had not yet found the strength to tell him to stop. You worried that if you could not find the courage soon enough, you would never recover.

“I’m sure you’ll prove them wrong. If you’re as talented as Jake says you are, I’m not sure how anyone could be dissatisfied with your work.” His name sent another blow straight to your stomach.

When a hand was placed on his shoulder and his attention was pulled in another direction, you were thankful for the break. You needed a moment to regain yourself, and you could not do that with Josh’s burning stare and reassuring words pointed at you. The guilt was eating you alive, and you knew you would have to come up with an excuse to evade his company if you wanted to make it through the night alive.

When you managed to catch your breath and settle the erratic nature of your heart, a hand landed on your own shoulder. You looked back, hoping to find one of the other two boys that did not have any affect on you, but instead, you were met with a sinking feeling in your stomach and an emotionally heavy gaze. You couldn’t believe that he approached you first, but as you looked over at Josh’s smiling face, you realized that it was likely all for the appearance. So, in hopes of avoiding and awkward questions, you threw on your biggest smile of the night.

“Jacob,” you greeted, trying to appear comfortable under his burning touch and unwavering stare. There was an obvious hint of reluctance in his eye which easily confirmed your worry. He was only talking to you on behalf of hiding the truth from Josh. You expected to be greeted with anger, or even distaste for him catching you sitting with his brother, but it did not seem like he felt that way at all. If anything, you felt that behind the reluctance to speak to you, pain was pooling in his expression.

“Long time no see, sweetheart.” The pet name sent your blood cold. What once was so comforting and sweet now seemed like an insult, or a backhanded gesture to get the last laugh.

“Will she be joining our soirée tonight?” Josh asked his brother. The two of you shared a look, and eventually you turned to Josh with a small shake of your head. In that moment, he realized the depth of the situation and a sense of sympathy formed on his face. “I see,” he said, taking a drink from his cup to avoid the awkwardness of speaking again.

“Could I… would you mind… I’d just like a minute alone with him, if that’s alright.” You struggled through the statement, anxiety written all over you. You had no idea what you were doing, but you were too far gone to stop yourself, now. Something about Jake made it so difficult to think before acting.

“Oh, yeah, f’course.” Josh said, nearly tripping over himself to stand. “I’ll grab that booth over there. I’m sure Sam and Daniel will be joining us soon.” He said, not waiting around for a second longer. You watched as Josh disappeared, almost immediately regretting your decision to stay. After a few moments of awkward silence filled with background chatter and obnoxious music, you managed to turn to face him.

“Can you… sit for a minute?” You mumbled, embarrassed to be taking the step. You didn’t notice it, but he was overjoyed that you spoke to him at all. He did come to the bar with intent to find you there, but he certainly did not expect a friendly conversation from you.

“Sure,” he bit down on his tongue, holding back the term of endearment that was begging to be said. He took post in the stool that Josh had previously occupied, looking down at his hands for a moment to gain enough courage to meet your eyes.

You did not know what you were doing, only what you felt in your heart. Had you stopped yourself from speaking and thought about the repercussions, you would have realized how bad of an idea it was to talk to him.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed, looking over at his face.

Maybe you even would have understood that apologizing was giving him the key to your heart again, which would inevitably land you just as hurt and broken as you had been all week.

Doubling back on your promise to stay away from him was essentially pointing a loaded gun at your head, and talking to him was equal to pulling the trigger.

“You’re sorry?” He asked, appalled at the thought of you apologizing. When you asked him to sit, he’d been preparing for the cruelest of insults and the worst of your thoughts. “No, angel. I’m sorry.” You has completely thrown him off track, and every thought he had while waking into the bar no longer existed. The only thing that mattered was your sad eyes and your heart that was splayed so delicately on your sleeve. The hurt was gone, replaced with the longing he’d been burying deep inside himself.

“You don’t need to be.” You shook your head. “Well, you do, but not nearly as much as I should be.” You did not have intent to rekindle the relationship, but you did want to settle the score.

At least that’s what you were trying to convince yourself. As you repeated it in your head, your hands were desperate to reach out for him and your body was aching to be held by him again.

“I shouldn’t have responded like that.” You let out a long breath, trying to gather your thoughts as you poured your heart out to him. “I, uh, I don’t like falling in love, and relationships terrify me, but you didn’t deserve that.” You had no idea why you were trying so hard with him, and no idea why you hoped that he would understand. You didn’t want to be with him, and you didn’t want him to feel like that was your intent. It was better left unsaid, but for some reason, you could not will yourself to walk away from him. Even more so, you could not let him walk away from you again. “I do care about you, Jake. I just don’t really know how to do that anymore, and when you said it so bluntly, it scared the shit out of me.”

“Oh.” He breathed, enthralled in the details of your face. He felt himself falling for you all over again, and this time, it did not scare him nearly as much as the last. You tried to deny it, but you felt the familiar gravitational pull pushing you towards him. You were enamoured with him from the minute you caught sight of his face. “I shouldn’t have thrown it on you like that. It was unfair, and I can see that now. I just… it felt right, and I couldn’t stop myself.” He admitted, almost appearing nervous as he tried his best to be transparent with you the same way you were with him. “I promised you, y/n, and I hate that I couldn’t keep it.” You swallowed thickly, your eyes darting to the whiskey glass in your hand.

“I guess I didn’t keep my promise very well, either.” You chuckled. “I couldn’t even admit it, even if we were playing house every day.” You sipped your drink, hoping that it might calm your nerves. When he looked as if he was waiting for you to continue, you did. “I care about you a lot, Jake. So much that it scares me. I felt it, too, and I don’t know why I couldn’t just say it, or at least respond with less… crazy.” You laughed. For the first time since he’d joined you that night, a smile crossed his lips, too. It was blinding, the kind that you couldn’t fake, and it warmed your heart.

“You’ve always been more than sex.” He confessed, profound and sincere. “You are worth the whole world and more, and I’m sorry that I said that. I didn’t mean it, but it doesn’t mean that it didn’t hurt.” You were so relieved that you felt tears begin to prickle your eyes. For the first time since he walked out of your house that night, the world did not feel like it was ending. “And you look stunning tonight, as always.”

“Don’t push it, Jacob.” You giggled, feeling the need to lean over and kiss him. You held back, not out of fear of love, but because you worried he might not want it. There was no way you could stop yourself if he leaned in first, and the more the seconds passed, the more comfortable you grew with the thought.

“You remember the last time we sat here?” He raised an eyebrow, leaning into you so similar to how he did that very first night.

“How could I forget?” You rolled your eyes. “Pretty sure you were wearing the same, tacky dress pants.”

“And you were just as insulting.” He teased, but the look in his eye lead you to believe he was not hurt by your words. Instead, he seemed estatic to hear that same tone of voice again.

“Two condoms in your wallet?” You bit back a smile.

“Three, actually.” He corrected. “Was hoping I could find someone who I could keep with me all weekend.” The look in his eye darkened slightly, letting you know he was thinking of all the filthy things the two of you could get up to with three, uninterrupted days.

“Maybe you’re looking in the wrong place.” You offered, pretending as if you weren’t thinking of the exact same things.

“Am I?” He challenged, leaning just a bit closer. “Don’t tell me I have to do this all over again.”

“A little courtship wouldn’t kill you, Jacob.” You swung your chair in his direction, facing him with the playful look in your eye he loved so much. “How bad do you want it?” You pressed further, leaning down slightly so he had a clear view of the cleavage your dress was allowing.

“I don’t even think I could make it to the bathroom, this time.” The seriousness in his tone was chilling, and in a moment of sheer irrationality, your hand reached over and rested on his. The moment contradicted all he had been afraid of, and although the gesture was small, it was more permissive than anything you’d done in the time you knew him.

He stood, moving towards you and capturing your face in his hands. With great intensity, he leaned down and placed his lips to yours. The kiss was heated, letting you know that he’d been thinking about it just as much as you had in the time spent apart, and neither of you wanted it to end.

For a moment, things seemed perfect.

But, you were far too grown to believe that perfection was possible, and your judgement was momentarily clouded by the yearning of your heart.

When you lived a lifestyle as sinful as yours, the devil had a helping hand in every aspect, and God did not have enough sympathy to grant you enough grace to allow for a moment of peace.

“Too much to say I missed you?” He mumbled against your lips, dreading the moment in which he would have to part from you. It was a phrase the two of you used often, and the answer was almost the same every single time.

“Just enough.” You replied, your heart begging to burst from your chest.

The problem was nowhere near resolved, and all you had done was found an island after being stranded in the ocean. It allowed for temporary relief, but not salvation.

“Can I buy you a drink to make up for it?”

“If we’re keeping score, I’d owe you plenty of drinks.”

“This is more than enough for me, angel.” He assured you, his lips still hovering over your own.

“One drink, then, and I’ll make it up to you later.” You offered, giving him a sly smile. The filthy invitation was subtle, but he could read you like a book. Filthy was the only thing the two of you knew, and it would not be easy to break out of it, even if you both committed to trying.

“Can we skip to that part? I don’t know if I can wait that long.”

“So impatient, Jacob.” You let out a disapproving tsk. “I heard once that the wait makes it all the better.”

“What can I say, sweetheart. You always bring out the worst in me.” His thumb drifted over your cheek, the glimmer of love in his eye returning as if it never left. “Besides, I think we have a lot of time to make up for.” His other hand landed on your thigh, just below the ending of the skirt of your dress. The touch was light, but electrifying. You knew that you could search to the ends of the earth, and you would still never find anyone who even came close to Jake.

“Don’t get yourself worked up, honey. It’ll be a long night for you.” You reached out, your hand landing on his side as you pulled him closer.

“For me?” He raised an eyebrow. The two words sent a rush of arousal straight to your core, and for a moment, you thought you would allow him to fuck you right over the bar top if it meant you could have him again. “Careful, angel. Would hate to have to remind you of who’s in charge.” You squeezed your thighs together to satiate the ache that was steadily growing. He noticed the tense of your muscles under his hand, a wicked look in his eye forming as he realized the mess he was causing between your legs.

“A double whiskey, please.” You tried to keep your voice as strong as possible, but the words came out strained. You were desperate to change the topic, but he was never one to give up so easily. He tightened his fingers around your leg for just a moment, the familiar smirk growing on his lips as he stepped away.

“Whatever you want, baby.” He hummed as he took a seat again, waiting for the bartender to return to the two of you. “Just be sure that’s what you want.” He said, looking over his shoulder at Ray who was serving a group of older men.

“What game are you playing, Jacob?”

“No games,” he promised “I’m just saying, if you want something, don’t be scared to ask for it.” At his words, something inside you snapped. You stood, not the least bit worried about your bluntness, and gave him a hard stare.

‘Self-righteous prick’ you thought to yourself. ‘God, I love it.’

“Meet me in the bathroom.” You said, only loud enough for him to hear. Hiding a smile, he watched you as you stormed towards the bathroom, his eyes focused intently on your ass. With a shrug of his shoulders, he finished the last of your drink, waiting only a moment before he stalked off in the same direction, uncaring about anyone catching you two in the act. When he approached the door to the bathroom, he took a deep breath to calm himself.

He raised his hand to knock on the door, but you swung it open and pulled him inside before his fist even had the chance to hit the wood. Before the door was closed behind you, your lips connected with his in a fervent embrace. As you attempted to push the door shut, your other hand was already unbuttoning his infuriatingly attractive shirt. His hands were on you, roaming every exposed inch of you and familiarizing himself with the feeling of you on his skin.

“And I’m the impatient one?” He smirked against your kiss, unable to hold back his thoughts.

“Shut the fuck up.” You muttered, finally managing to free the last button from his shirt. He reached up, tangling your curled hair in his fist and holding it tightly.

“Watch your fucking mouth.” He warned. Just because he had missed you did not mean that he was willing to give up the control.

“Shut the fuck up, sir.” You repeated, making sure to annunciate the title with as much detail as you could. As much as you missed his company, you missed pushing his buttons far more. “Is that better?

“Do you want me to leave you here all by yourself?” He questioned, the dominance in his voice familiar and incredibly enticing. Perhaps you decided to misbehave just to see it again, because in that moment, you felt at home again. “I will, angel. I’ll go out and order a drink, and you can take care of that ache between your legs all alone.” Your stomach plummeted at the thought of him leaving you on your lonesome. “You don’t like the sound of that, do you?”

“No, sir.” You shook your head, focused on his erection that was pressing into your hip. You doubted that he would do as he said, but you still feared that he might.

“Then lose the fucking attitude.” He ordered, taking a step forward so you were pushed against the wall. “I missed you too, but you need to be good for me, okay? If we’re in here for too long, people are going to notice we’re gone, and then we’ll be in trouble.”

“Okay.” You breathed, agreeing and knowing it was best to get to the point as fast as you could. Avoiding an awkward conversation was in your best interest, and your best interest was his biggest priority. You watched him as he sunk to his knees before you, his fingers bunching up the fabric of your dress and hiking it up to your navel. His lips dusted over your thighs, the sight nearly sending him weak. It had been far too long since he had you like this, but as much as he would have loved to keep you there with him all night, he knew he had to hurry.

“Dressing up for someone, sweetheart?” He asked, letting his fingers trail over the black lace of your thong. He tried to frame his question as inquisitive, but you knew it ran far deeper than teasing you. He was wondering if you had plans to meet with someone else. The thought nearly made him sick, but he felt as though he needed to know the answer.

“No, sir.” You promised. He looked up, catching your eye and living in the moment of sincerity.

“So this is all for me?” He smiled.

“Always.” You reached down, cupping his cheek in your palm. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, feeling the warmth and wishing it could last forever. His fingers hooked through the sides of your underwear as he slowly pulled them away from your hips. He let the flimsy material fall to your ankles, his eyes heavy and clouded with desire for you.

“You’re too good to me, angel.” He purred, helping you free one leg from the thong. Instead of focusing on the other one, he guided the freed leg over his shoulder and placed a trail of sloppy kisses on the inside of your thigh.

The air between you was different, but in no negative way like you previously thought it would be. It was more passionate, more relaxed, and most of all, more loving. The confession of feelings did not change anything between you two like you feared. It only seemed to made the connection stronger, and so much better. You felt like an idiot for turning him away, and you regretted turning him down without a second thought. All that the two of you were doing was loving; the only difference from then to now was the words being spoken into existence. You cared much too deeply about the small word that held so little value, and not enough about the boy who found home between your legs. Now that you had him again, you vowed to never let yourself be so foolish again.

When his mouth connected with your core, you could not contain the pornographic moan that left your lips. A week to most was nothing, just a small amount of time that was easily forgotten. A week without Jake, however, was no less than torture, especially having left things so badly. The feeling of his tongue on you was addicting, and for the last seven days, you were a woman plagued with the worst of withdrawals. One hundred and sixty eight hours without his touch was excruciating, and ten thousand and eighty minutes without the grace of his presence felt worse than any hell that awaited you in the afterlife.

Any time spent away from Jake was horrible, and you never wanted to be apart from him again.

“Taste just as good as I remember, sweetheart.” He pulled away just long enough to slip in the comment, the husky tone of his voice sending your knees weak. “How fast do you think you can cum for me?”

“I don’t know, baby.” You breathed, already missing the feeling of his mouth. He should have phrased his question better; he was not wondering about your ability to orgasm, but rather how fast he could get you there. The answer was up to him, and he was nothing if not keen on a challenge. Without any further conversation, his tongue had found your clit once again, and this time, he was working with intent. “Oh, fuck.” You whined, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging at the roots.

The feeling of your fingers knotted in the locks of hair was exhilarating, better than any substance he could imagine. The taste of your arousal on his lips was like heaven, and he was a fool to have walked away from you. You were the best thing his hands ever had the opportunity to touch, and you were the only thing his heart desired. It did not matter if you were in the backseat of a car, or in a dirty bar bathroom, or even laid on the most expensive mattress the world had to offer; the moment was sacred to him, and it had everything to do with you.

He hummed against you, a wordless praise for the beautiful noises slipping past your lips. When you let his name mixed within them, he knew he would never hear a more beautiful sound. He was certain that the world could not offer any more than you, and his name would never sound half as pretty painted on someone else’s lips. He was unequivocally in love with you, and he no longer felt the need to run from it. This was where he was meant to be, foolishly happy and living with his head between your legs.

You let in a sharp intake of breath as he raised his hand to your cunt and slipped his fingers inside of you. Within seconds, he curled his fingers just right and hit the spot inside you only he knew how to find. He knew you better than anyone else in the world, but more than that, he was the only person who cared enough to know you so well. You were a mess, the sounds echoing off the walls adding to the sexual tension in the room and only driving him into a frenzy. Pleasing you had become his favourite pastime, and he was devestatingly good at it. Your hips bucked forward into his hand and his mouth, and you could feel him smile against you.

Driving you crazy had quickly become his trademark, and he was happy he could put the talent to use once more.

You were dangerously close, your walls constricting against him as you tried to fight the waves of pleasure. You body was sticky with sweat and your hair and makeup was likely ruined, but you didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was Jake, just like always. The knot in your belly was begging to unravel, taunting you further with every pump of his fingers and flick of his tongue. You hated how easy it was for him to send you in to such a state, but above all, you were thankful that he’d managed to find you amidst the chaos of the world.

As you began to descend into pleasure, the only thing you could think of was how grateful you were that out of billions of people, you were the lucky one to be able to have Jake.

If you told yourself that months ago, you would laugh and spit in your own face.

But the devil was a master at his trade, and this specific trade happened to be all things sex. It was impossible not to fall victim to it, even if it would eventually be the cause of your demise.

“Please don’t stop, m’gonna cum.” You pleaded, your grip tightening around the strands of hair tangled between your fingers. Your legs began to quiver and your mind quickly dissolved into desperate, obscene thoughts about the boy driving you mad. A particularly coarse moan tore from your chest, letting him know how good he was making you feel. Then, underneath the sound of your pleasure, so quiet that you almost missed, you heard him moan against you. It was filled with emotion, showing you all of him at once; the need for you, the weakness he had in regards to you, and the pure joy he felt from pleasing you.

And it sent you into absolute bliss.

You came hard, your body tensing as he held your hips tightly, keeping his mouth on you for as long as he could. He soaked up the pleasure, letting it settle heavily in his bones. It weighed him down with likeness to cement, forcing him to stay on the ground and live solely to please you for the rest of his life. As you came down, he couldn’t seem to stop himself. His tongue was still focused on your clit and his fingers moved as if he wanted to force you into another orgasm.

“Jake, please stop.” You gasped, the sting of overstimulation infiltrating every nerve in your body. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to pull his head away from you in reaction to the feeling. He did not stop, and he did not even show any signs of slowing. He wanted you to come again, and he wasn’t willing to back down. “Jake,” you tried again, but you knew that he would not stop unless you spoke the right word. A small part of you wanted to, but a bigger part of you wanted to continue. You had learned long ago that whatever Jake was willing to give you was worth more than anything else, and pain from him was worlds better than pleasure from another.

That was the funny thing about the devil; he forced your hand in believing that his torture was bliss.

He let out another moan against you, his cock painfully hard and strained against his pants. He needed you desperately, but not as much as he needed the taste of you on his tongue. It was more than a necessity; it was a matter of life or death. If he pulled away, he feared his heart would stop and his lungs would deflate.

“Fuck!” You yelped, your abdomen painfully tense and your mind swimming with nothing but a need to slow down. Still, he was like an addiction, and stopping was not an option. You too felt as though you would succumb to death if you had to go without him. He knew that despite your protests, you were close to the edge once again. Your body told him more than your words, and the rock of your hips against his hand and the way your walls clenched around his fingers, inviting them further inside told him all he needed to know.

The next orgasm that ravaged your body set your skin on fire and reduced your brain to mush. You could not speak, nor could you even force his name out. Your throat constricted alongside the rest of your body, and sweat began to bead on your forehead. Your hands were too weak to hold on to his hair any longer, and the only reason you were upright was because of his iron grip on you. This time, when you came down, his movements slowed with the beat of your heart. He moved his mouth first, and then his fingers followed. He looked up at your face, his chin glistening with wetness, and a smile blossomed on his lips.

“How was that, angel?” He asked, slowly rising to his feet. You could not form an answer, instead only blinking at him as you tried to steady your breathing. But, your silence was enough of a response for him, and he guided you towards the countertop before you could even begin to recover.

Your head was still spinning as he bent you over the counter and unbuckled his belt. You watched him in the mirror as he spit into his hand, rubbing himself for a moment before he rested the tip of his cock on you. He caught your eye into the mirror, giving you a small smirk as he studied your fucked out expression. Your eyes were glued to his face, memorizing the details of him too, fearful that you might miss something. The seven days spent apart had done nothing but make you dread what life would be like if you never saw him again. Now that he was there, standing behind you with his hands on you, you never wanted to be apart from him again. You did not want to miss out on a single moment of life with Jake, and you felt stupid for not being able to admit it sooner.

“Do you want it, sweetheart?” He asked, his tone low and filled with lust. “Do you want me?”

“I do,” you nodded, your voice raspy and your desperation evident. You caught his eye, a chill running down your spine at the expression he held in his gaze. His jaw was hard set and his nostrils were slightly flared. The sight of him alone was sending you feral, and you didn’t know if you could wait much longer. “Please, Jake. I need you.”

“You need me?” He taunted, pushing his hips forward ever so gently. The feeling of him inside you was thrilling, even if it was just barely. Only the tip rested inside you, and even though you both wanted to go further, the small action was worth more than anything else. You were certain Jake could give you anything, even including the smallest of gestures, and you would thank him until your lungs gave out from a lack of air. Any kindness from him was enough, and you were certain his injustices even bordered pleasure. He was everything, and you couldn’t believe he was yours.

“I need you,” you reiterated, giving him a look of desperation through the mirror. “Please, baby.” You tried again, feeling him push into you a little more. You let out a sigh of relief, knowing that soon enough he would not be able to resist the temptation. “You always make me feel so good.” He took in a sharp breath at your words, finally finding enough kindness to give you what you wanted.

When he bottomed out inside of you, he sat for a moment, completely still as he revelled in the feeling. His eyes were closed, his head tipped back towards the ceiling just enough to expose the muscles of his neck. His adams apple stuck out against his tanned skin, the glisten of sweat on him making the picturesque moment even more beautiful. His shirt was still on his shoulders, but all of the buttons were undone and his chest was bare, begging to be admired. You let your eyes trail all the way from his collarbones, drinking in the detail until your gaze settled on his navel. Then, your stare landed on the sight of his hips meeting yours, thinking about how the two of you fit together so perfectly that it was sinful not to indulge in the ritual.

You clenched around him, biting back a smirk as his eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. He let his hand drift up your back, settling in tight hold on your shoulder. “I missed that tight little cunt.” He muttered, finally meeting your eyes in the reflection again. Your stomach twisted into knots, your legs going weak again just at his words. Behind his pupil, you could see the streak of evil that so often ran through him. When your eyes went out of focus, you swore that devil horns sat atop his head much like the first night you shared with him, but this time they were not hidden in the blackness of night. They were in plain sight, and you did not even believe he was trying to hide it anymore.

It was almost funny, how you had been so scared of his hellish nature in the beginning, and now you had fallen in love with it just the same as the rest of him.

He withdrew his hips slowly and steadily, and then with the force of his hand on your shoulder, pulled you back down on him with a strength that made your head spin. A cry of pleasure fell from your lips as he made it a point to keep up the brutal pace. He was sinister, and that much was obvious, yet you no longer held a fear for his godless power. As time dragged on, a part of your soul had turned vile to match the evil of his own, and the two of you had become one. You could not point a finger at him and call him the devil, because you would have to point at yourself in the mirror and say the same. The wicked nature lived within the both of you, taking over and claiming your body as it’s own. You were possessed by the power, and the two of you ruled hell as one. The fate you feared awaited you was no longer terrifying, because you were now the power you once feared.

You cannot play Russian roulette with Satan, because only he would have the knowledge to create a game so sinister. He passed you the loaded gun, and you put it to your own head even with the knowledge that there was six bullets sitting in the chamber.

You were playing a losing game; after all, how could death itself fear dying?

“This is what you wanted?” He asked, the sound of skin on skin filling the room and leaving little room for anything else. “You wanted me so bad you couldn’t even wait until we got home.”

Until we got home. Insinuating that home was only a place where the two of you existed together, and that home to him was wherever you were.

And god, he was right.

That house was nothing without him in it, and the memories made before his time meant little anymore. He was home, and that house was just a shelter to hide away in until he was there to fill it with love. This time, upon the harsh realizations, you did not shy away from the idea. Instead, you welcomed it with open arms and a smile on your face. Jake was home, a place where you could hide away from the rest of the world. He was a hug after a long day, and a warm blanket after facing the violent cold. He was a place to put your sorrow down, and where you could let the walls of defence fall. He was not the only home you’d ever known, but he was the best one you’d ever known.

You wanted to tell him you loved him. The word was lingering in the air, the sweet taste dancing on the tip of your tongue and it’s soft hand was caressing your cheek. Instead, you moaned his name and told him how good he was making you feel. It was not the confession you wanted to make, but it was enough to satiate the craving until you were strong enough to speak the truth. Sex was the only way you knew how to communicate with him, but you hoped that with time, you would finally be able to speak the words he so badly wanted to hear.

“Shit!” You gasped, his cock slamming into your cervix and sending your thighs rocking into the countertop. You could already feel bruises forming, but you could not find it within yourself to care. When you returned home and took your dress off, it was serve as a reminder that he was real and you weren’t just dreaming of someone so wonderful. A loud slur of moans fell from your lips, and his hand came up to clamp around your mouth while he continued at the same, bruising pace.

“You have to be quiet, sweetheart.” He reminded, but sounds of pleasure were seeping from his own lips. “Those are only for me. You know that.” He tried to keep his voice steady, but you could tell that he was getting close from the waver of his words. You let out a while, muffled by the strong hand anchored to your mouth. “I know, angel.” He sympathized, feeling the same way. “Cum for me.”

You did just as he asked, unravelling around his cock and dissolving into a mess below him. He watched your face in the mirror, studying every miniscule detail and searing it into his brain forever. He never wanted to forget what you looked like when you were experiencing such euphoria at his hands. He muffled every noise that slipped out, and he kept his rhythm until you relaxed against him. When your eyes fluttered open and flickered up to meet his own, he couldn’t stop himself from reaching his own climax. His hips stuttered and you felt him twitch inside of you as he painted your walls with his release. His stature faltered and he slumped over slightly, wrapping you in a blanket of warmth as his chest pressed against your back. He released his hold on your mouth as he pressed his mouth to the back of your neck, leaving a few gentle kisses on the exposed skin.

“We have a thing for bathrooms.” You breathed, looking at his reflection through heavily-lidded eyes. You couldn’t help but feel pure adoration at the sight of his face, knowing for certain that you would never see a more beautiful person.

“You know I can’t help myself around you.” He gave a lazy chuckle, straightening up as he pulled out of you. “Especially when you wear such slutty dresses. You could at least leave something to the imagination.” He joked.

“Okay, I’ll keep that in mind next time.” You laughed, pushing yourself up off the counter.

“Don’t you dare.” He warned, knowing that he’d miss it more than anything.

“That’s what I thought.” You smirked, moving to clean yourself off as best as you could. “So… we’re okay?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, smiling at the question. “We’re okay, angel.”

“I… uh, I’d like to do that other part more often, too.” You confessed. He took a step towards you, wrapping you in a hug that expressed all he felt for you in his heart. He placed a kiss to your forehead, smiling against you at the thought of building a relationship with you. When he pulled away, he also took the time to fix the skirt of your dress. Then, he reached up and swiped away your smudged lipstick with his thumb. “Sex is great, but I really like spending time with you, too.”

“We can make that happen.” He promised, looking to you with an astounding amount of sincerity in his eyes. “I’m so sorry that I said that stuff to you. You didn’t deserve it, and I will do everything I can to make up for it.” He cupped your cheek in his hand.

“I’m sorry, too.” You leaned into the touch, closing your eyes for a moment to savour the innocent intimacy. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Jake. I don’t want to hurt you, ever.”

“I know,” he said, leaning down and placing a small kiss to your lips. Your heart fluttered and your stomach twisted with joy. Slowly, you began to overcome your fear, because you knew that even the scariest of things did not seem too bad with Jake by your side. “Did you… do you want to come and have a drink with us? I’m sure Josh is out of his mind with worry, now. He really likes you, and I think he’s been scared I was going to fuck it up.”

“Yeah,” you laughed, knowing he was right. “Do you want to come back to my house, tonight?”

“More than anything.” He nodded, the words rushing out of him with a long sigh of relief. “I’ll go and order us drinks. Meet me out there in a few minutes?”

“Yeah, of course.” You nodded, shooing him towards the door. The two of you had already been gone for a suspicious amount of time and you would hate for them to catch on to your act. Jake blew you a kiss as he stepped out the door, closing it gently behind him. You smiled, your cheeks dusting red as you swiped away any fallen mascara specs from under your eyes. You touched up your lipstick and combed your fingers through your hair, and by the time you looked presentable, you could safely leave the bathroom.

You walked out, first noticing Jake by the bar. You sent him a smile, trying to hide the excitement in your eyes as you approached him. It was strange feeling giddy over a grown man, like you were a middle schooler with an embarrassing crush. It was even stranger to know that it was not only reciprocated, but he felt the exact same way you did. You joined his side, smiling at Ray as he fixed your drinks. Jake tucked you safely under his arm, pulling you closer to him as his hand rested on your hip.

“Two double whiskeys.” Ray said, placing the glasses in front of you.

“Thanks darlin’.” You smiled, grabbing yours and taking a long sip out of it.

“Can you combine her tab with mine?” Jake asked, taking a drink from his own cup. You shot him a look protest but he paid you no mind. Ray gave a nod, looking to you as if to ask if everything was alright. You gave him a subtle nod, telling him all he needed to know.

“You head over, I just need to grab my jacket and stuff.” You told him, giving him a reassuring smile.

“Sure thing.” He said, letting his eyes linger over you before turning to join his brothers.

“So it all worked out?” Ray asked, watching you collect your belongings from your chair.

“Seems so.” You shrugged. “I guess things weren’t as bad as I thought they were.”

“Don’t let him break your heart, darlin’.” He said, collecting the empty glasses littering the counters. “You’re worth more than that.”

“I won’t.” You promised, slinging your jacket over your shoulder and holding your drink tightly. “Thanks for being there for me, Ray.”

“I’ve always got your back.” He promised. “I might be old, but I’ve still got fight left in me.” You laughed at his words, nodding in agreement. “Have fun, sweetheart.”

“You know I will!” You called, turning to face the booth that the boys were occupying. Jake was just reaching the table as you began to walk over to join, but he did not sit down. Instead, he seemed to freeze in his tracks and after a few seconds, sent a nervous look over his shoulder at you.

Fear gripped you, but you continued walking towards him in hopes that you were misreading his expression. When you reached the group, you gave a smile to Sam and Danny, but they seemed to have to force their own in return. When your eyes drifted to Josh, he was looking down at his hands settled into his lap. Then, your eyes settled on an unknown girl who was sitting next to Josh in the booth, who was also making quick work at ogling Jake. You swallowed your pride, looking to Jake in hopes of a quick answer or reassurance that this situation was nothing but innocent.

Before he could explain himself, the nameless blonde stood from the booth with a grin on her face, leaning forward without any hesitation and placed a kiss on Jake’s lips. In truth, Jake did not respond, but to you it seemed as if he did. Your eyes were deceiving you on behalf of your broken heart. He placed a stiff hand on her hip, but not in any attempt to draw her closer. He was silently trying to stop her from taking it any further. He was straight as a board, his muscles tense and trying in every way to exude his distaste for the greeting.

When he didn’t respond with enthusiasm, she pulled away and with intent to cover her own bruised ego, shot you a look of daggers. You watched the two, unsure of what was happening, and completely unwilling to find out. The only thing you could do was laugh, and even that came out awkward and painful. It seemed stuck in your throat as tears prickled your eyes.

“Y/n,” Jake warned, taking a step in your direction and completely disregarding the woman who seemed so intent to get his attention. “Please.” He whispered, no louder than a pin drop. He wanted to explain before your mind got the best of you, but your decision was already made. There was nothing he could say to make you feel better.

The real reason he invited his brothers to the bar finally surfaced, and the room was heavy with the weight of his mistake. He’d been so intent to know if you were at the bar waiting for someone else because he had shown up with the intent to entertain another woman. The question was not one of inquire, but an admission of guilt. He had not invited the blonde girl out because he was interested in anything she had to offer; he had invited her to that specific bar on that specific night because he knew you would be there, dressed up and drinking whiskey while you pretended to be interested in the football game playing on the television. He wanted you to see them together, and he was betting on you having a jealous streak. He thought if he could make you jealous, you’d run straight back into his arms.

What he was not expecting was your warm welcome when he’d arrived, nor did he ever think there would be a heartfelt apology. Maturity had lost him when you’d broken his heart, and he wanted to play dirty. He was so immersed in you while you two aired out your thoughts that he failed to remember the other girl who was on her way to meet him there. You always triumphed when it came to anything or anyone else, but this time, your effect on him had been fatal. He dug his own grave and as he stood amidst the chaos he caused, he worried that he sealed it forever.

You wanted to throw your drink in his face, or to scream until your throat was raw and no more sound could be made. You wanted to tell him every bad thing you were thinking and call him every terrible name you could imagine. Instead of any of that, you seemed frozen in place. Your fingers were clasped around your glass so tightly that it nearly shattered under the pressure. Your lips were glued together despite the insults begging to break free. Your eyes held fire but they were calm, which was even more dangerous. He broke your heart once already, but this time, he’d torn it to shreds and discarded it like it was nothing.

There was power in walking away, and it just so happened that walking was your favourite thing to do.

“Enjoy your date, Jacob.” Your words came out clearer and stronger than you thought they would. You feared the familiar crack in your voice would sell you out, but not even that seemed to want to surface. Maybe it was afraid of your consequential anger, too. Your skin felt like there was a million cuts littering the surface, stinging with every pulse of your heart and stretch of your body. Your nerves felt like they were doused in gasoline and he’d thrown a match your way, igniting you without a second thought. He took a step towards you, but you took a step back and shook your head, shutting down whatever idea was running through his mind. He could see the shine of sadness begin to glaze your irises, and he felt equivalent to the dirt on the bottom of your shoe.

“Just listen to me for a second.” He pleaded, knowing that everyone at the table was watching the circus as it unfolded. Horror was not a good enough description for how everyone was feeling, and nobody knew what to do. Worse than that, nobody knew what to expect. The boys were watching you as if you would explode at any second, and god knows you wanted to. But, you were stronger than that, and he didn’t deserve such a reaction.

“Listen to what? I don’t care.” You said, shaking your head. “I don’t care if she’s your girlfriend, or if you weren’t ever planning on seeing her again after tonight, and I don’t even care if she was leverage to hold over my head. I. Don’t. Care.” Your voice was dangerously quiet. Although everyone was sitting right there, they could not hear a word the two of you were saying over the noisy bar atmosphere.

“Don’t say that.”

“I don’t care who she is, I don’t care what you’re doing, and I don’t care about you.” Much similar to his own experience, the heartbreak had turned you vile. You wanted to say whatever you could to hurt him, and you were doing it without insults and profanities. “Every time I start to think that you might be different, or I start think you mean what you say, you prove me wrong. Every fucking time. I’m done, Jake.” With that, you turned on your heel and walked away.

For a moment, you considered leaving the bar, but you could not give him that much satisfaction. This was your bar, and nobody could take that away from you. You did feel reluctant about returning to your normal seat, knowing that you could not face Ray’s knowing stare and worried questions. Instead, you walked to the other end of the bar in the second bartenders section. You knew her, but not nearly as well as you knew Ray, and not nearly enough for her to show you any concern. You drank down the liquor in your cup, the burn achingly strong, yet not nearly enough to distract you from the sound of your own breaking heart.

You ordered another drink, feeling five sets of eyes lingering on the back of your head. Jake watched as you sat down, confused and hurt about your statement, yet knowing that he deserved it for trying to play such a childish game. He was pained to know he hurt you again, and he was pained to know that you would not respond to any attempts to apologize.

So, he did what he knew best, and he carried on as if you never hurt him at all. He snaked his arm around the other girls waist, giving a short apology for the confusion, and placed a lingering kiss on her lips. If you did not care, then neither did he. If he continued on, he thing that maybe you would be upset enough to confront him.

In that moment, the two of you meant nothing to each other.

Well, that’s what you were trying to convince yourselves, at least.

You were furious, wanting to go over there and blow up at him with every single insult you could think of, to hit him and scream and cry because he hurt you so badly. Instead, you allowed yourself to peek over your shoulder with just enough time to watch him kiss her. You felt like someone had just punched you in the stomach. The air was knocked from your lungs and you felt like you were going to be sick. His lips were locked with another girls while the remnants of his orgasm was still threatening to run down your thigh and yours was lingering on his chin.

That seemed to be the most sickening thought of all.

Jealousy flooded you, making your skin prickle with indignation. The next drink that was sat in front of you was gone almost as soon as it was placed there, and you decided it was best to order two at a time to keep up with the ache in your chest. You looked back over at him again, unable to resist the urge. You saw her laughing, flicking her hair over her shoulder as she smiled up at Jake. She was clinging on to whatever he was saying, clearly hoping he would take her to the bathroom and do the same to her as he did with you just moments before.

As you studied the scene, you knew that jealousy was not the correct term for what you were feeling. You were envious of the situation in the booth. You wanted to be wrapped around him, laughing at his jokes and making relationships with his brothers. You wanted what she had in that moment, and you wanted it with a fervor you’d never quite felt before. You could not call it jealousy, because you were not worried about her taking something that belonged to you. In truth, Jake was never yours. You had ensured that long before the night’s events unfolded. You could not be jealous about something that did not belong to you, and Jake did not and he never would.

Envy was a much better description, because quite frankly, you never would have what she did in that moment. You and Jake could not comprehend simplicity, nor could you find the courage to love each other openly. Even from the very beginning, you and Jake struggled. Whether it was bickering because you refuted your connection, or because you simply enjoyed the struggle, it had never been easy. You were green with envy over something you would never have, and what she seemed to be getting so easily. You were sick at the thought, and pained to know that you’d fallen hard enough to feel such devastating emotions.

You felt a tear slip down onto your cheek as you drowned your sorrows in whiskey. Sometimes, it seemed like your own personal holy water. Once the first tear fell, the floodgates opened and your cheeks were soaked with physical reminders of your own stupidity.

You were crying so hard that your shoulders were shaking with the heaves of your chest, and you could no longer see the glass that was held tightly in your hand.

Then, a gentle touch landed on your shoulder. It was unfamiliar, but comforting, and you felt like you knew who it was before you even turned around. His second hand landed on your other shoulder, and you leaned backwards into the touch until the back of your head landed on his chest. Once he knew you were going to be receptive of his touch, he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly while you tried to swallow down your drowning sadness.

“Seems like you’ve been more than a girl who is a friend all along.” Josh hummed, his hold protective and his heart breaking for you.

“I’ve always been exceptionally good at lying to myself.” You rasped, raising a hand to wipe your cheeks clean.

“Mind if I sit?”

“It’s probably better if you don’t.” You sighed, sniffling away another sob.

“Well, I’ve always been exceptionally good at breaking the rules.” He shrugged, pulling out the chair beside you and taking a seat.

“That’s hard for me to believe.” You chuckled, looking over at him with puffy eyes and a red nose. You were in no state to be socializing, but he didn’t seem to care.

“You better believe it, mama.” He said, taking a sip of his own drink. You cocked your head to the side, a small smile stuck on your lips as you processed the pet name. “Penny for your thoughts?” He asked, pulling a coin from his pocket and tossing it down on the table. He seemed to be the beacon of light in the suffocating darkness. His jokes and bright smile soothed your sorrowful soul, and you wondered what it would be like to be friends with him forever. With Josh around, you had a hard time picturing any sadness at all.

“For you, it’s free.” You assured him. “And this is a quarter. I’m not that steep.” You slid the coin back towards him, watching as he stopped it with his finger. Instead of putting it back in his pocket, he tossed it in one of the tip jars sitting on the bar top.

“I’m honoured.” He gave you a grin, breathtaking and beautiful, but so different than his brothers. For twins, their differences were staggering. “He’s an idiot, you know.”

“To each their own.” You shrugged, picking up a shelled peanut from the dish in front of you for something to fidget with. “Has he been dating her the whole time?”

“Her? No.” He shook his head, almost laughing at the thought. “She was the first girl who was just a friend, but she wasn’t really much of a friend at all. More or less just a girl.” He explained, swirling the ice around his glass with his straw. “I think I ran into her the first weekend we moved here. She was sneaking out sometime in the morning, and of course, I had to introduce myself.”

“Don’t know why I’d expect any less.” You chuckled, recalling the first time you’d ever met him.

“Some people never change.” He smirked. “After that, I never saw her again. Which was fantastic, because I didn’t really like her all that much. Definitely not as much as I liked you.”

“That’s good.” You smiled, waiting for him to continue. You felt honoured that josh liked you as much as he did. He seemed protective of his brother, and rightfully so. You wondered why he thought you were so good for him when all you ever seemed to do was cause Jake pain.

“I met a few girls after that, but they never stuck around. You, though? I could see it in his eyes that day. He never wanted you leave.” He leaned back in his seat, seeming like he was racking his brain for the best way to explain himself. “Usually, the girls leave before he even bothers to get out of bed. Then, he started talking about you all of the time, and I realized that this was more than just a drunken accident. When he wanted us to meet you, I knew he was head over heels.”

“He’s got a funny way of showing it.” You replied, your distaste for his actions clear in your face. “But, I guess I’m not the best at it, either.”

“I never said he was good at showing it.” He laughed. “I love him, but it doesn’t mean I always have to agree with him.”

“True.” You nodded in agreement.

“I think I had a sneaking suspicion that something was wrong when he came home last weekend and slammed his door hard enough to shake the building and then locked himself in his apartment for days. Maybe you and I were both trying to pry some information out of each other, earlier.”

“Sorry about that.” You buried your red cheeks in your glass as you swallowed the liquid down, ashamed of your actions.

“Don’t be, ‘cause I was doing it, too.” He said, admitting to his own guilt. “You don’t have to tell me about that if you don’t want to, but I’m all ears if you need it.”

“I’m the classic sob story, Josh.” You leaned forward, signalling to the bartender to make you another drink. She gave a thumbs up in response. “Divorcée, dead dad, a knack for self punishment and a plethora of commitment issues.”

“Wouldn’t call that classic. You’ve got quite the collection of pain.” He laughed, finding your blunt statement humorous. “Is that why you were so strict on being friends?”

“Yeah, I don’t do the whole dating thing. Divorce usually does that to a person.” You joked, dumping the last of your ice into your new drink and handing the empty to the bartender. “When I met Jake, I was pretty clear about that, but there’s something about him, I guess.”

“And about you, too.” He reminded.

“I thought Jake was on the same page, but we both seemed to blur the lines. We spent so much time together that it would be more strange for us not to fall in love.” You explained. “When he confessed that he had feelings for me, I panicked. I know I shouldn’t have, but I just don’t think I was ready for anything to change. I hurt him, he hurt me, and neither of us were mature enough to apologize.”

“Until tonight.” He corrected.

“Yeah, but then he invited Barbie to drink with you guys.” You grumped, trying to fake cheerfulness as you said the nickname you’d pinned on her.

“May I add some insight?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. You caught his gaze, silently giving him permission to do so. “I don’t think he wanted Barbie to drink with us. I think he wanted you to drink with us, but he didn’t know how to ask. He invited her to piss you off, and that was before you guys talked it out.”

“He sure did piss me off, but he hurt me pretty badly, too.”

“I know, and I’m not defending him.” He wanted to make that abundantly clear. “He’s in love, and love makes him stupid. He doesn’t know how to deal with getting hurt, so he just… doesn’t. Or, he acts like a jerk.”

“You seem to know him pretty well.”

“We didn’t share a womb for nothing.” He grinned. “He’s my twin, but he’s also my best friend. I’ve been there through everything, and I’ve seen it all.”

“So you’re not just a brother of the twin kind, you’re also a friend that is considered the best.” You noted, tipsiness radiating from your statement. You liked the banter that always seemed plentiful between the two of you. It reminded you of your own sister.

“What do you think? Do I make a good friend?” He watched you closely as he waited for an answer. After a moment, you nodded.

“A great one, even.” He smiled at your words and you could not seem to ignore the blush of his cheeks.

“I’m not telling you to go back to him, or to forgive him. Although I would very much like for the two of you to be together, sometimes things just don’t work out. Jake’s a lover by nature, even if he tries to pretend he isn’t, and I know he’s cursing himself as he sits there beside her and not you.”

“Lover by nature?” You inquired, now oddly curious about his life. That was something you never would have pegged him for.

“Oh yeah,” Josh chuckled, the liquor clearly getting the best of him. “He loves to love, and he’s as loyal as a dog. When his last girlfriend broke his heart, he tried to put on this tough act and pretend that love wasn’t his thing. He did the hookups and the failed talking stages, and I think for a while he convinced himself he was truly happy with it. When he met you, I think he realized that happy was the exact opposite of how he’s been feeling for the last year or so.”

“She hurt him pretty bad, eh?” You asked, recalling the pained expression in Jake’s eye the last night you had all went to the bar together.

“That doesn’t even scratch the surface.” He grimaced. “I hated seeing him sad, but I was so happy that he actually left her for good.”

“I wouldn’t hurt him like that.” You didn’t even realize the words that slipped past your lips until it was too late. Josh gave you a sympathetic smile as you scolded yourself for letting such a thing slip.

“I know, mama.” He said, the sincerity in his voice astounding. “Why do you think I like you so much?” Your cheeks turned red at his comment, and you gave him a smile.

“I like you too, Josh.” You mumbled. “Thanks for talking to me. I feel a lot better.”

“I’m glad,” he said, looking past you and over at the pool tables. Sam and Danny seemed to be caught in a game that was headed nowhere. As he did so, you looked back at the booth where Jake was sat with the bubbly blonde. He had moved to the opposite side of the table, presumably so he could get a clear view of you and Josh. When you caught his eye that seemed to be glued to the pair of you, your suspicions were confirmed. You did not hold his gaze, nor did you signal that you even noticed him looking. Instead, you stood and brought Josh into a hug, thanking him for caring enough to check on you.

Envy was not a strong enough word to describe what washed over Jake. Yes, he wished he could be the one that your arms were wrapped around and yes, he desperately wanted to be the person who was listening to the tellings of your heart. More than that, he was furious that Josh thought he had the right to be that person for you, and he was broken at the idea of you allowing him to be. He was reaping the consequences of his own actions, and there was nothing he could do but suffer the wrath of the devil for the sins he had committed.

As you pulled away from Josh, you looked back to the booth and saw Jake leaning over the table to capture his date in a kiss. Your stomach twisted with disgust, and you felt frozen in place. The two of you were caught in a game of pain, but you weren’t even aware you were playing. You did not speak to Josh in hopes of upsetting Jake, but he was kissing her in hopes of hurting you. If you had to admit it, he was doing a fantastic job. Your pain was so loud that you barely heard Josh ask you to join them in playing a game of pool.

When he asked a second time, you mustered a nod as you fought back the urge to vomit. He led you towards the table, but your eyes could not seem to stray from the disturbing scene before you. Jake was fighting a battle that he did not need to fight at all. You had no idea what point he was trying to prove, and no idea why he had the sudden urge to stray further from the love you two were trying to rekindle. As you picked up a pool cue, you decided you did not care. When you lined up the first shot, you both knew you had already won.

He was like poison, drawing you in and burning you with every touch. You loved him so deeply even if you knew he was killing you, and it drove you crazy enough that you would even cause him harm just to hear your name on his lips. You couldn’t bear the thought of not having him, but having him too close always drove you to a bittersweet end. You knew it was time to give him up, but you did not know if you could do that at all. For certain, you knew you could not do it without one last fight.

Even as you tried to convince yourself that you did not care about his actions, the color green was bleeding from the walls. The haze of smog in the room had an emerald hue, and the green velvet of the pool table reflected exactly how your heart was feeling. You were certain that if you looked in a mirror, your skin would be following suit, too. Envy was written all over you, stemming from the unnamed blonde who was wrapped around Jake like he belonged to her. It also grew from the knowledge that Jake was letting her, as if he never had a promise to come home with you at all. You might not have seen it, but when it came to belonging, his heart only lied with you. He was yours, even if he could not express it properly.

What you didn’t see was the green vines that were tangling themselves around Jake’s body, slowly strangling the life out of him as his own envy took hold. He watched as you laughed with his brothers, drinking and carefree while you shot at the balls scattered across the pool table. He wished he could have what they did in that moment; you, with a smile on your face and a laugh stuck on your lips. He wanted you, and everything you had to offer, and he felt like an idiot for letting you walk away this time. He did not want to be in the booth with the girl that meant so little to him, and he did not want his lips on anyone but you. His regret was paralyzing, but his pride stopped him from apologizing yet again.

You were both dying as you stood, and suffering as you watched. Both of you had the power to change, but so much sin had infiltrated your lives that doing the right thing no longer mattered. Any moral, and any idea of right and wrong no longer existed, replaced with wicked evil and blind obedience to a higher power that would ultimately take your life. The devil watched as the two of you sealed your fate, laughing loudly as you walked yourselves into his trap. With one more deadly sin to go, he wondered if the two of you would ever realize your wrongdoing before it was ultimately too late.

The only question that remained was one of fate. How much sin could you commit before punishment was due? You were two people who had been sentenced to a lifetime of imprisonment at the hands of your own godless morale, and you were so blind to your own stupidity that you had not even gone searching for salvation. Better yet, you had not even realized that you were in need of it. When the time came and you were ready to repent, the church would turn you away and laugh in your face.

Religion never seems important until you’ve engaged in so much sin that salvation is no longer an option.

~

you guys didn’t really think I’d be nice enough to let them stay together, especially with wrath as the last chapter? love you 🫶🏻😉

TAGLIST:

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

[sundrop-writes]

How would Spencer, Emily and Elle react to getting proposed to?

(I love this so much omg.)

(The reader here is entirely gender neutral.)

Requests are currently - OPEN

I feel like Elle would lowkey hate it? I think even if she was in a long-term relationship, she wouldn't be into traditional romance. She wouldn't be the PDA type of person, she would be the type of person to flirt with teasing insults and she wouldn't like things to get 'too sappy'.

I think Elle wouldn't even be too fond of the idea of marriage - she would be okay with just existing in a long term relationship (and would not want to open the door of 'I am terrified of someone leaving me so I don't want to get married because I don't want to get divorced'.) If she was with someone who did help her get over that, and she did want to get married, then she would want the marriage proposal to be simple, non-romantic, and predictable. (And most likely, Elle would want to be the one proposing, rather than the one getting proposed to.)

She would hate one of those very traditional, very romantic, public or semi-public proposals - especially if it was one that she didn't see coming. She would love the kind of proposal where you gave her a ring randomly while handing her the Sunday paper and when she asked what the ring was, you say "I think we should get married."

If that was the case, then she would smile and put the ring on, and tell you that it's a bother because she has to 'go to HR and get some BS paperwork about changing her marriage status' - but she says it with a fond smile, and you know that it's her way of saying she's looking forward to spending her life with you.

Emily would be shocked. Even if the two of you discussed marriage in the past and the possibility of getting married, she would still be shocked if you set up a proposal for her. She thought that she would be the one to propose to you, but she never had much romantic flare, and she got so caught up in working that she never set aside too much time to plan a proposal - and you got ahead of her and planned one before she could think too much about it. (You were very romantic, and even though she never said it much, you knew that she loved being romanced and swept off her feet.)

She is still a private person, so she wouldn't want it to be a public or even semi-public proposal - she would be okay if her close friends were there (basically, her BAU family), but that's about it.

I think she would love something like this - you waiting at the office when the team gets back from a case. You have had the help of Garcia (who just lives for this kind of stuff, and practically squealed with glee when you told her that you needed her help setting up a proposal for Emily) (and she had the hardest time not blabbing the secret to everyone, but she managed to keep it under wraps, even if everyone knew she was acting weird for some reason) - you printed out pictures of your relationship with Emily and decorated the round table room with them, themeing the room with pictures of beauty and happiness instead of all the horrific crime-scene photos that Emily has had to see there before.

Derek insisted that he needed Emily's attention in the room (because of course, on the way back, Penelope had called him, and talked his ear off about how he could help, all to excited about the prospect of romance and love) - and Emily stood in loving awe at seeing you in the middle of the room, candles lit, as you got down on one knee - and everyone funnelled in to watch as you gave an epic speech, summarizing how much you loved her and how, even if the world could be filled with horrors, you wanted to be with her through it all.

Naturally, she said yes - and there wasn't a dry eye among the team.

Spencer would absolutely love it.

Of course, because of traditional gender roles (and the heteronormative idea being planted in his head that he was likely going to end up in a straight relationship) - Spencer always pictured himself as the one who would perform the proposal, rather that the one being proposed to. Even when he first got into a relationship with you, it lingered in the back of his mind that he would probably be the one to plan the proposal and execute it - so when marriage was heavily discussed between the two of you, and it seemed like the true next logical step in your relationship, Spencer found himself delightfully surprised when you planned a marriage proposal for him.

He was the super romantic type. He loved doing hyper romantic things for you, but he was never prepared when you returned that romance for him. He wouldn't care if the proposal was public or not, but he would feel shy about things being centered around him for once and all the attention being on him - but he would love how much effort you put into it.

You made it perfect for him. You took him out on a date - going to his favourite restaurant, and then you took him to the planetarium. You proposed to him under a beautiful sky full of stars, with a simple ring that he could wear to show off the commitment - he tried to hide his tears of happiness in the darkness of the room, and he kissed you with the utmost passion after he said yes. He couldn't have been happier, knowing that this was the start of a long life that the two of you got to spend together.

Criminal Minds Masterlist

[shiratamahatsumiyo]

Lookism with a Daki reader

Daki was an antagonist in Demon Slayer's Entertainment District Arc and was one of the 12 Kizuki, specifically sharing the rank of upper moon 6 with her brother Gyutaro. She disguised as an Oiran but is actually a demon. She and her brother were slain by Demon Hunters.

• You are part of this gang called the Twelve Kizuki, a gang made up of rich and talented people that are actually fighters who are mostly active around nighttime. You and your older brother swore loyalty to the leader of the gang after upper moon 2 took you guys in when you were left homeless. You address yourself as Ume Shabana at public places and Daki when you're in fighter mode. You also have a side job as a model while attending high school. You hide your flower tattoos on your face with makeup.

• Born as a very rare beauty, you have lots of men that would obey your every word at your disposal and your charm fooled all of them. You also have your brother that will protect you from the other gangs and annoying suitors. The only man that you adore was Muzan, the leader of the Twelve Kizuki.

• I'm gonna be honest here, you probably were a bully at either Daniel's old school or Jaewon High. You are a member at the beauty department since you despise being near unattractive people but Gyutaro's an exception. People definitely did a double take when you just casually say that the creepy, gross, and horrific man with syphilis is actually your brother.

• You bullied lots of students... Duke Pyeon or Jiho Park, you don't care, they're both pushovers anyway. You can't stand Yui Kim because that fake-ass bitch thinks she's hot shit. Your beauty and strength far exceeds that of the other girls in school and made a reputation of yourself as the most beautiful and strongest female in Jaewon High.

• Speaking of your strength, you're scary AF... Like, one time Vin demanded asked that you give him your number and go out with him. And what did you do? You fucking uppercut punched him so hard his sunglasses shattered. When Duke refused to do something for you, she pulled on his ear until it bleed. Vasco saw that and confronted you at the cafeteria...

Vasco: "Hey you."

Ume: "Hah?"

Vasco: "The way you're bossing around the weak... I won't stand for it. Go and apologize-"

Ume: *Punches table* "WHO DO YOU THINK YOU'RE TALKING TO, MORON?! AN UGLY MUSCLE HEAD LIKE YOU CAN'T ORDER ME AROUND! I'LL MAKE YOU REGRET THAT--"

Gyutaro: "UME! You don't wanna fight him here. Let's just settle this at the back"

Ume: "WHO CARES?! I WANT TO PULVERIZE THIS SORRY EXCUSE OF A MEAT SACK RIGHT NOW!"

Gyutaro: "UME! YOU BROKE THE TABLE! AT LEAST EAT BEFORE FIGHTING HIM!"

• ....This is why no one wants to put up a fight with you. Just one punch and that steel table was destroyed. Both students and teachers find your short-tempered attitude intimidating and troublesome. The teachers just turned blind eyes when it involves you or anyone in Lookism as to not get on your bad side. The students have a very hard time interacting with you despite your reputation as the most beautiful girl in the school.

• When Big Daniel came in the picture, your life just took a sharp turn. You thought of him as naive but handsome when first introduced. You tried charming him after Zoe failed her attempt, however, he just kept quiet and avoids eye contact no matter how many times you tried asking him to come with you. Just like Vasco, he also called you out on your cruelty with others. Gyutaro found his goody-two-shoes personality foolish and you guys did not meet him again after that.

• Somewhere in the Arcs, he wanted to be allies with you and Gyutaro so he asked if you could join them. Gyutaro was pissed and decided to fight him while you fight Vasco, Zack, and Jay..... Daniel...won?.... Then that means your brother is-- You panicked and ran to your brother, hoping that he's not dead... He's...fine?... What do you mean he's fine?... Are you taking pity on us?! WE ARE NOT WEAKLINGS TO BE GROVELING AT YOUR FEET!!!--

• Daniel and co. decided to give you two a choice if you want to join them or not. In time you gave more thought about it... By the rules of the Twelve Kizuki, if a member is defeated, then their lives shall be taken by the winner that in order to become one of the members... And this Daniel Park just wants you to reconsider???

• Hahaha... He's so odd, so weird... so foolish. Oh well, I guess you and your brother are now one of them... It's time to quit ties with the Twelve Kizuki and say goodbye to your dear leader. You became allies with Daniel.

• Remember Duke Pyeon? Yeah, he told you to apologize to him...

Duke: *Hears a knock from the door* "O-oh! Don't worry grandma, I'll get it! Who could be the knocking so late at night?--" *Opens door*

Duke: "!!!.... M-m-miss Shabana?! ....U-um, wha--"

Ume: "I... I don't know how this works SO DON'T GET ANY IDEAS, FAT-ASS."

Ume: *Bows deeply* "I...I... Ugh... I'm sorry!"

Duke: "..."

Ume: ".... Well?! Aren't you gonna say anything?"

Duke: "How did you get my address--"

• Anyways! You and Duke settled your bully and pushover conflict with the watchful eyes of Gyutaro. You still hate Jiho though. You and Gyutaro were actually tempted to accept Gun's offer to be the strongest but brushed it off and fought him. Goo is annoying as hell, basically the same level of cockiness as Vin. You managed to have friends of your own like Mira, Zoe, and that that fake-ass bitch Yui is not so bad...

• One thing the guys are actually thankful for is that you treat everybody the same. Wether they being beautiful or ugly, you'll still kick their ass.

[7-wonders]

reader has a strong personality, but sometimes she feels unsure of herself, her personality, her looks. in one of these days, feeling her bad mood, Dream reassures her, telling how much he admires and loves her, the way she's beautiful in every way, etc.

Jealousy, Jealousy

Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x GN!Reader

It started with Calliope.

To be clear, you absolutely supported Morpheus both coming to his ex-wife's aid and reconciling with her after their disastrous end (though the details were vague, you knew it had something to do with the son they shared, the one that Morpheus still couldn't bring himself to talk about). What had happened to Calliope at the hands of mortal men was absolutely horrific. If you had it your way, you'd hunt them both down and serve up a bit of vigilante justice. Morpheus forbade you from doing so, on the grounds that he had also been told no when wanting to do the exact same thing.

When Morpheus finally decided that it was time for the two to actually talk, you had met the Muse on your way out of the Dreaming to give them some space. After spending maybe three minutes with her, it was easy to reach the conclusion: Calliope is wonderful.

Not only is she stunning on the outside, but she has a kindness within that refused to be stamped out by her captors. She's so nice that, coming from anybody else, it would seem insincere. On Calliope, though, it's effortlessly natural. She seems like she's actually interested in talking to you, and not just playing nice because of societal conventions and you being Morpheus's current lover.

You trust Morpheus implicitly, but, considering how easy it was to see how Morpheus could have fallen head over heels in love with Calliope, you felt just a tinge of reluctance at leaving the two to resolve their issues. It was okay to be a little jealous, you reasoned with yourself; after all, everyone has that one ex that seems like "the one that got away." You're okay, and secure in who you are and your relationship.

Until Queen Titania came waltzing into the Dreaming.

The entire realm was in a tizzy over the sudden request from the Court of Faerie to send a delegation so that matters "concerning the two respective realms" could be discussed. According to Merv, Titania was going to again extend an offer of marriage to Morpheus. While this was quite the shock to you, a sympathetic Lucienne explained the regularity of such a proposal when you hid out in the library to escape all the excitement of the impending visit.

"Isn't she married, though?" you asked, shoving a dreamer's book harshly into its appointed spot. If you were going to be taking up space, you had figured that the least you could do was help out with some shelving.

"Queen Titania and King Oberon have...what you would call an open relationship, I suppose," Lucienne said. "If anything, their relationship is never as strong as it is when both parties have paramours to entertain them."

"Hm." The laws and customs of other realms were something you had yet to get used to, and you assumed that it would remain that way. "But why is she so fixated on Morpheus? I mean, obviously he's insanely powerful, but surely there's other eligible rulers?"

Lucienne's lips quirked at your subtle dig towards Titania. "There are, but she has never truly been capable of moving past the dalliance that she and His Lordship had."

"A 'dalliance?" Your voice came out high-pitched, the shock of what you learned making you forget how to talk.

When it was merely lighthearted gossip, Merv had shown you a portrait of the Faerie queen in a book detailing the various realms and those that rule them. She had blue-tinged skin and flowing black hair, and though her features were incredibly dainty, there was a strength carried in her regal posture that screamed that she was not to be trifled with. Though she looked nothing like Calliope, she was just as beautiful. Now, you hated that stupid picture, because she was probably twice as pretty when face-to-face with her.

Lucienne realized the error of what she said only after you reacted, and suddenly found herself interested in checking off something on the parchment she was holding.

"It really was nothing more than just that: a simple dalliance," she attempted to reassure. "They only carried on with the affair for a couple of decades, if that."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better? I'm only a couple of decades old!" Breathing through the panic that had risen in your throat, you held your hands out in a placating gesture (who you were placating besides yourself, you're not sure) and nodded. "Okay. Okay! So, who ended things between them?"

"Lord Morpheus. He was entirely unimpressed with Queen Titania, and he remains so. Honestly, I believe that the only reason he agreed to the fling in the first place was because of boredom." Lucienne took your hands in hers. "You have nothing to worry about, I promise."

"I know!" You hoped that she couldn't tell how blatantly you were lying. "Um, I think I'm waking up. I'll see you after the Faerie delegation visit."

Since fae were masters of deception on their best days, and you were painfully human, it was safer for you not to be in the Dreaming proper during their stay. Thus, the next time you went to bed and each subsequent night until the delegation left, you would be back in your own dreamscape like every other normal dreamer. Probably for the best, considering how you were currently feeling.

When Lucienne let go of your hands, you used your handy dandy skill of being conscious of your dreaming to wake yourself up. Back in your bedroom, you laid against the mattress and stared up at the ceiling, feeling as the green monster of jealousy began to eat at you.

Honestly, how could you not be jealous? You had just found out that your boyfriend—who, by the way, is an all-powerful, eldritch ruler of dreams and nightmares—has had relationships with a literal goddess and the queen of Faerie. And those are only the two that you knew about! Considering said boyfriend is also probably billions of years old, you weren't sure that you want to know about the others.

If they're anything like Calliope and Titania, then they're surely perfect beings of unfathomable legend. You could see them now, the long line of gorgeous hearts left broken by Morpheus. All of them well-suited to be the partner of the Dreamlord, yet none of them able to pass his test.

That did not bode well for you, neither perfect nor of unfathomable legend, neither ethereal nor regal. You're simply you: loud and outspoken and a little bit clumsy and painfully, utterly human. Normally, such a thing wouldn't bother you. If anybody had an issue with you, then that was their problem, not yours. But what happens when you have an issue with yourself?

You've never deluded yourself into thinking that you were equal to Morpheus in any way. In your relationship, yes, you're on equal ground with him. As just the two of you? You're leagues below him, which, again, has historically not bothered you. It was just a fact of life, until you encountered one ex and heard all of the buzz surrounding another and learned that there are others who would very much be equal to Morpheus.

The jealousy and inadequacy that you're feeling creates a burning pit in your chest that threatens to swallow you up. You needed to do something in an attempt to try and take your mind off of the invasive, all-consuming thoughts, which is how you find yourself sitting on a large blanket spread out underneath a tree in the park and angrily biting into grapes so that Matthew—keeping you company since he was banned from the Faerie visit on account of his cheeky insubordination and how that may look to guests—can eat the other half. Unfortunately, Matthew's doing more avoiding being hit by the grapes of your wrath than actually eating said grapes.

After the fourth grape you've tossed at him with far more force than necessary, Matthew squawks indignantly and puffs out his chest. "Jeez, you don't have to throw them at me!"

"Sorry," you mutter.

"It's okay. I mean, I like grapes just as much as the next guy, but dodging them does not make for a fun eating experience."

You don't laugh, not even a pity laugh if you didn't find it funny, so it shouldn't be a surprise that Matthew hops onto your lap and looks up at you. If anybody can tell that you're not a hundred percent, it's Matthew, whose emotional intelligence is far more keen than one would expect.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Matthew asks.

You shrug. "Just...thinking."

"About what?"

There's no point in lying, especially to Matthew. "About how cool and pretty my boyfriend's exes are."

"Oh no, Killala?"

You look at him in bewilderment, not expecting to hear a name that's not at all the two that you've been stewing over. "Who the fuck is Killala?"

"Nobody, don't worry about that," he hurries to cover his tracks. "You were obviously talking about..."

"Calliope and Titania." You throw a little bit more venom into the latter's name, but in your opinion, it's deserved. She really needs to learn how to take 'no' for an answer.

Matthew shakes his head and affectionately nips the bottom of your shirt. Despite your foul mood, you appreciate the gesture. "Aw, there's nothing to worry about with either of them!"

"Really? I shouldn't be worried about the goddess and the fae queen?" The sarcasm comes out pretty thickly, and you close your eyes and breathe through your nose to try and tamp down the flames of anger licking at your tongue.

"Calliope and Dream have so much baggage between them. Seriously, I'm not going to get into it, because it's not my place to do so, but trust me when I say that their relationship completely ran its course. And Titania? Dream can't stand her!"

"Yeah, but what if one day he and Calliope decide to put the baggage aside and try again? Or what if Titania's proposal makes sense for the realm?"

"That would never happen. They're his exes for a reason."

You sigh and scritch at Matthew's little head. "His exes are goddesses and fae and queens and who knows what other ethereal type of classification! And I'm just me."

"And 'just you' are quite remarkable." You don't have to turn around to see who's speaking, because their voice is as familiar to you as your own.

"Morpheus," you greet, choosing to focus your attention on Matthew. "Finish your business with Faerie?"

"Yes. It went about as expected, which is to say, it was a train wreck."

You can't help the smile that twitches your lips upwards at the use of such casual slang. Morpheus takes a seat next to you on the blanket, but you still refuse to look at him in a stubborn attempt to hold onto what little pride you have left after spilling your heart and being overheard by the very person you were most afraid of hurting with these feelings.

"The Faerie court has departed for their own realm, Matthew. You are free to return to the Dreaming."

"Awesome! I actually think Eve has a couple of tasks for me, so I think I'm gonna head out." Matthew says this like it's his own idea and not Morpheus's. He hops up onto your shoulder, nipping lightly at your ear in farewell. "Good luck," Matthew whispers to you before flying up into the air and back to the Dreaming.

You and Morpheus are left alone together, a prospect that normally thrills you. Now though, you're simply thinking that you've never heard silence quite so loud. Is he mad at you, or is he simply unsure of what to say? You're not sure you want to know the answer, but this stalemate can't go on any longer.

Hesitantly, you ask, "How much of that did you hear?"

"Enough to know that you feel that you are inadequate compared to my previous relationships." Morpheus gently grabs your chin with his cool fingers and turns your gaze to meet his. "Which, I must add, is completely and unequivocally false."

"Sorry. You, uh, caught me at a pretty self-conscious moment."

He shakes his head. "Do not apologize for how you feel. I simply ask that you might explain why it is you feel this way."

"How could I not feel this way, Morpheus?"

He looks at you with a blank stare that says that he really doesn't understand why you feel this way. It's kind of frustrating, honestly. Not only do you have to have stupid human feelings, but they make no sense to your partner.

"Are you really going to make me repeat what I told Matthew?" you ask. "Your exes are all far more evenly matched to you than I am. They're goddesses and fae queens and other beings who I've probably never even heard of because my human mind couldn't fathom such power."

"And you do not believe that you possess such power?"

"Uh, no." It's pretty obvious that you don't (you'd know if you did, with how many hours you spent staring at household items and willing them to levitate after watching Matilda for the first time).

"You do not know the power that you hold over me, a power which I am glad to let you have. It is far more dangerous than what any previous lover of mine has wielded, for I do not believe I have ever loved someone as wholly as I love you. I am passionate, and have often been told that I am 'too much.' Yet, my realm and my function always came first, and would be placed above all else.

"For you, though? I would give you any thing you wished for if you only were to ask. I would pluck the stars from the sky and string them onto a necklace to decorate your neck. I would raise armies to defend you from the most minor of slights. I would create entire worlds for you, and destroy them thusly if that was what you wished. I even believe that I would abandon my function if you requested it of me."

You gasp at the sheer weight of Morpheus's words, knowing the solemnity of them. "I would never ask you to do that."

"I know. But you needed to know the lengths that I would go to in order to make you happy. That is how much I love you."

"I'm hardly consort material. I laugh too hard at stupid videos and I try really hard to garden but usually end up killing my plants and I get shy around new people."

Out of the examples you listed, only the last could potentially transfer over to any consort activities you would be expected to do. But you're already feeling vulnerable, so you're just laying it all on the line today.

Next to you, Morpheus smiles besottedly and shakes his head at your antics. Instead of calling you out on it, he simply picks up one of your hands and kisses the back of it before enclosing it between both of his hands.

"None of those are disadvantages to you or your personality. I want you, my starlight," he says earnestly. "And do you know why that is?"

You shake your head.

"Because you are exceptional. You are wonderfully kind to everyone, person and creature and dream and nightmare. You are incandescently beautiful in a way that makes me keenly aware of the fact that I don't need to breathe, because I suddenly feel as though I need to catch my breath when I see you. You make me feel alive for the first time in a long, long time. You make me want to be better, to create something better."

God, you're going to start crying. Any doubts that you may have had about yourself and Morpheus are simply gone, with just a few words uttered. That's just what Morpheus does, though: he always knows just what you need to hear.

The only reason you keep the tears at bay is through sheer force, and even then a couple slip past your waterline and fall down your face. Morpheus looks a little bewildered at the sight, but you shake your head.

"These are happy tears, don't worry," you assure him. "I'm just...so happy, and I love you so much."

Morpheus's gaze turns soft, and he kisses you sweetly before laying his forehead against yours. "And I love you. Never doubt that, for my love for you comes as naturally as your breathing, and it is as endless as I am."

"Y'know, you're quite the romantic, Morpheus." You can't resist kissing him again, not when his lips are literally an inch away from yours.

"Only for you."

Morpheus smiles against your lips before begrudgingly pulling away so that he can stand up, and you stand with him.

"Shall we return to the Dreaming, my witty, beautiful love?" He dips his lips to your ear before whispering, "I'd quite like to see just how in your element you look when sitting on my throne."

Saying yes is one of the easiest things you've ever done.

[adalricus]

Yandere!Lunar Goddess x Reader

CW:Religious themes,yandere behaviors,gn reader,afab yandere,psychological torture (not inflicted toward the reader), manipulation,murder,death,Kidnapping

Author's note's: Naledi is a popular name in the country I live in South Africa which means star.

You were at the beach during nighttime, gazing at the moon. You liked doing this, blissful silence, the cool breeze prickling against your skin, the sound of the ocean, and the full moon. You stood up from the chair you had set up for yourself and strolled towards the coastline. The water grazing your bare feet ever so gently. Suddenly, you felt warm as though someone wrapped a warm blanket around you, of course, dumbfounded at the sudden change of temperature. Then you felt warm breath tickling the back of your neck. You immediately turned and attempted to backhand the mysterious figure out of instinct. "My,my, easy there, darling." The figure said, you laid your eyes upon her. You noticed she had a non-human skintone. One that resembled chalcanthite, beautiful blue hues with gold accents. "Who are you?" You questioned ."Who am I?" She replied with a question. You tried to run away, ignoring the feeling of serenity and peace around. She appeared in front of you, obviously shocking you. You tripped and fell against her, "Calm down, starlight, I wouldn't dare hurt you." She said as she wrapped your arms around you. Slowly a mist with the scent of jasmine and chamomile, you got sleepy, and you couldn't fight the exhaustion. You woke in your bed, body relaxed and energized. "So it was just a dream," you said a loud "Course not silly, I'm not leaving so soon. My dear starlight." You heard a sultry, smooth voice say behind you. You almost got whiplash with how quick you turned your head. And there was the source of the voice. An absolute beauty, her full thighs and tits, her soft stomach all packaged in a silk gold accented blue lingerie. You were shocked. The whole interaction with her felt surreal. "My my, it'll last longer if you took a picture, you know?" She said sarcastically. "Y-you're ,not a dream?" She looked amused and shocked by your sentence. "An ancient God?yes, but a dream? I know I probably look dreamy, but I surely am real starlight." She replied to you, she took your hand and kissed it ever so sweetly. "I've always been so infatuated with you humans, the way stories and traditions are passed down. The cults and religions, I love it all. But you intrigue me beyond any human lover I've ever had. The possessiveness I feel for you is almost palpable at times. That's most likely why I never allowed humans to love you." She announced to you, that's why you could never get into relationships, and even if you did, it would end in tragedy. "Is that what happened to all my past lovers." She chuckled at your question, "Oh my, asking me about your past lovers is odd when you don't even know my name.But yes, some of them persisted even to the psychological torture so I had to kill some of them unfortunately." The words she uttered were horrific and almost shattered you. "Let them go, only I Naledi can properly love you, no human can love the way I can. So come with me to paradise, no longer will you experience illness, financial problems, and any general problems that humans feel." She pleaded with you, you thought for longer than she wanted you to. She lost patience when she knocked you out and took you with her. You woke up in a large bed filled with silk and cashmere blankets. You felt something weighted and warm on top of you, looked up, and saw Naledi on you cuddling you. "I know you're awake, starlight. I'm so happy to finally have you with me. Now that you're here, you're not going anywhere."

[ssentimentals]

dating mingyu feels like..

being loved for your flaws, not despite them. mingyu falls hard and falls fast, and for him all the wonders of the world don't come close to you. he's tripping over his own feet in a rush to be next to you, to take your hand and shout to the whole world that you are his and he is yours.

('gyu, look at that sunset!' you shout and turn around to check if he's paying attention only to find him with a camera focused on you, obviously taking multiple pictures when you were not looking. 'gyuu,' you whine, embarrassed. 'stop taking pictures of me, capture the beauty of this sunset!'

'i am capturing the beauty,' he comments and laughs, when you pretend to gag. 'what? i will print it and put it into my wallet!')

mingyu is the 'you are always on my mind' and 'i am counting days and hours till i see you again' kind of guy. he feels a lot towards you and he's not ashamed to remind you over and over again of what you mean to him (text message with 'i miss youuuu' featuring bunch of hearts of all colors because he's extra like that, audio messages with declarations of love, phone calls just to tell you that he loves you).

he is such an 'act of service love language' type of guy: cleans the house if he knows you hate doing so, cooks to lift up your mood, walks your dog if you have some other tasks to close, learns your favorite orders by heart so he'll know what to bring. he wants to look reliable in your eyes and he's there whenever you need a warm embrace or a shoulder to cry on.

(you sniff and hiccup, reaching for glass of water while mingyu wipes away tears from your eyes. he swipes his thumb over your cheeks and pulls you in, holding you close. 'i didn't want to spoil our night,' you mumble, pushing away a little so you could look into his eyes. 'the stress pent up and i just couldn't take it anymore. i'm so sorry, gyu.'

'don't apologize, there's nothing to be sorry for,' he assures and leans in. your eyes close on instinct and he kisses both of your eyelids, cradling your face in his hands. it's something so intimate that you hide your face in his chest then, not being able to face him. 'if anything, i'm happy you shared with me, that you feel safe to do so.'

'of course,' you utter, rubbing your nose on the soft material of his hoodie. 'you are my rock.'

maybe it's your imagination but it feels like his heart started beating faster at those words. his arms tighten around you and his voice is a little shaky, filled with raw emotions as he whispers: 'that's all i want to be.')

dates with mingyu consist of him worrying too much over everything being perfect ('no, but it was supposed to go like that! this was not the plan!), him buying you anything you find cute and not listening to your protests, him holding your hand proudly and taking bunch of pictures ('those are memories of your happy moments, we need to collect and treasure them!').

(mingyu's pouting and you chuckle, leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek. he tries to hide his smile but corners of his lips keep twitching much to your amusement. 'baby, really, it's alright, i like rain.'

'but now we don't have the good view because of the clouds,' he points out, still sulking a little. 'it was supposed to be very clear and pretty, i specifically picked this day!'

'aw, gyu, it's still perfect.' you convince him, wrapping arms around his torso. 'i liked everything about this date, you planned it perfectly.'

'apart from the weather.'

'even you can't control the weather,' you say. he doesn't look fully happy yet, so to make him smile you add even if it makes your insides twist: 'you know what you have a full control over though? my heart.'

a second passes and then he gasps loudly and cheshire cat grin adorns his face. 'oh my god, i rubbed off on you!' he starts clapping, enjoying your embarrassment. the amount of pick up lines you hear from him on a daily basis is honestly horrific, but mingyu has zero shame in using them unlike you. 'not bad for the first try! i knew you'd eventually give in and become like me, you know.')

dating mingyu is like throwing away the cloak of invisibility and being finally seen. he sees the real you (not the picture perfect version side you show to vast majority) and he loves the real you with his whole heart. he makes you feel truly wanted and his personal goal is to make sure you love yourself as much as he loves you (which is a whole lot, by the way).

a/n: this was requested by two anons and i hope you liked this, dears, let me know if you did!

link to my other works is here and i'm still accepting requests, so drop a message in my inbox or simply come to say hi <3 -nini

tag list: @pearlygrayskysky (let me know if you want to be added as well :)

[scarfacemarston]

Tuberculosis and the Wild West

Spoilers for RDR2 , but it’s been since 2018, y’all.  Trigger warnings for serious talk of severe terminal illness and severe stigma. As of 12/20 or 20/12, I have fixed some of the wording and added a few new things so please seriously head the warnings. Ok, first, some background: I've been studying TB since 2018; my father had a form of TB twice. I'm a historian, and one of my specialties is the history of medicine. Of course, you don't need to be a historian to write something like this. Also,  please "like" and reblog, this sort of content takes time. Tons of pics of buildings, and info below of the “lore” and IRL people.

Background info about TB that y’all need to know: TB is still horrifically deadly and still a leading cause of death. To give you all an idea about how recent genuine scientifically proven treatments were-  antibiotics targeting TB were not  discovered until the late 40s. However, sanatoriums (TB hospitals) and similar TB-related places didn't all close until 1970. My sister was born in 1977.  To give you all an idea of how treeified people were of this disease, think of the stigma with the AIDS/HIV crisis in the 1980s or the early fears surrounding Covid.

TB is one of the three oldest diseases dating back to Ancient Egypt with early evidence appearing through ancient mummies. Starting around the 18th century, western people believed TB was a disease of the elite granting someone ethereal beauty, writing prowess, and artistic talents. It was known as a "romantic disease" and a "beautiful death" - both of which we know aren’t true.  Some western beauty standards are influenced by TB including rouged lips, blush, pale skin and a thin figure accentuated with corsets. However, the appearance was due to the patient wasting away. Patients actually had bloodied lips, feverish cheeks, a pale complexion from the illness and losing a large amount of body weight. That's why TB was initially called consumption.(There have been many other names for TB including the White Plague and Captain of All These Men of Death and phthisis which is Greek in origin.) However, people eventually woke up and realized, "Oh wait, this isn't so sexy” The disease spread like wildfire, especially in the cities affecting whole families as was seen with Doc Holliday. Soon, society blamed anyone who wasn’t a white upperclass person AND those who were "immoral . They believed it was someone’s own fault if they had the disease. People held a very e*gen*c view of the disease believing their activities or who their families were caused this.  Immoral in this instance includes thieves, sex workers, bar workers, drunkards, violent people, women who had children out of wedlock, said child born out of wedlock, and homeless people. Obviously, this isn't true. It was overcrowded spaces, poor hygienic practices, but also animals, especially cows and deer. Ironically, the deer/stag plays a huge role in RDR 2. A few aspects from RDR 2 were inspired by Doc Holiday, one of the greatest gunslingers and outlaws in American history. His talents with the gun were considered by some as otherworldly. He and Wyatt Earp are most famous for the shoot-out at the OK Corral. Doc was dying of TB and headed west in order to potentially receive some medical attention, but found out that being an outlaw was great fun. Watch Tombstone for a fictionalized version of him. He had a very colorful life, but died of TB in Glenwood Springs, Colorado, at the age of 36. The same age as you know who.

This leads us to RDR 2 itself. The short answer about  survival is potentially yes, but with some major stipulations. I have traveled across the country studying TB and visiting TB sites and have seen these locations firsthand. Read further to read how survival was possible and for pictures of key locations.

IF Arthur had rested, maintained a proper fat rich diet, rested in especially clean air and partook in light exercise, he MIGHT have had a chance. I would estimate a 60-70 percent chance based on my readings of TB survivors. The chance of survival  could be more if he he headed West immediately after diagnosis. The wealthy traveled to newly built luxury resorts, but most people lived in tent colonies, so Arthur would be very familiar with the site. Hell, if the gang moved West, and followed the conditions I mentioned above, he MIGHT have been able to recover without heading to a TB colony. The the gang wasn't stable, and they were being hunted down, etc. However, people were pissed about the TB patients heading west to settle on "their land" (which is, of course, Native American land that was stolen). This pushed people to the outskirts of town and eventually, the establishment of sanatoriums which were tuberculosis treatment centers. 

Both the picture above and below would be an example of the tents used by TB patients to camp out. The top picture was probably taken around the 1890s which is Arthur’s lifetime while the picture blow is probably from a later era like the 20′s based on the clothing. City people in big cities sometimes camped out on the roofs of their flats and apartments hence the setting of the second picture. 

Due to the extreme fear, people were literally dropped off by families/friends or even government officials far outside of town. You did not want society to know that you had loved one with TB or else the stigma would affect you as well.  Later, TB patients were forcibly institutionalized. Many of these patients were ashamed of their affliction, but also felt further shame that their loved ones could be ostracized by society. I cannot stress enough how horrific this disease was and how tb psychologically affected the sufferer and its loved ones. Many tb sufferers never saw their loved ones again due to their families shunning them. I interviewed the elderly who remembered family members suffering from the disease and it still haunts their lives today. We see some of the shunning and stigma in the game, not just from the townspeople but from the gang. It's actually one of the reasons why I truly dislike a few unexpected gang members, for example.

At least Abigail, Charles, Tilly, John, and Sadie still treated him as a  human. Hell, Even Molly was kinder to him and she was really suffering in chapter 6.

I will tell you right now, realistically speaking, in no way could Arthur have done anything at all in chapter six. I’m not only talking missions, but any sort of work.  I won't go into graphic details, but one of the less graphic ones is that his hands would struggle to grasp objects, especially a gun. His joints would be too swollen. I know because I've seen it firsthand with my father and read plenty of accounts about it. Other than that, the game does a pretty great job of representing TB - however, Arthur could have been arrested or fined for spitting blood on the street which he did quite often in the game. Link goes to an academic article, but here is a more accessible link.

By 1899, people had been heading west for TB treatment for decades. People of all races headed west to Colorado, California, New Mexico, and Arizona being the prime locations. Dry air and or mountainous air were your best bets. Colorado was quite literally known as THE place for TB tourism as it was called. It was one of the first major waves of health tourism in the history of the USA. 

Another famous person and case study is Dr. Edward Livingston Trudeau. He himself suffered from tuberculosis who sent up tuberculosis huts in Saranac Lake, NY. For further study, other key locations include Asheville, North Carolina and in the mountainous regions of Pennsylvania. They huts looked like this:

These were also in Colorado Springs, Colorado Springs was full of them and they are still occasionally found in people’s yards today. 

I visited one in the Pioneer museum in Colorado Springs. I can post my pictures later, but this is one found in an outdoor museum.

The TB patients had a very strict regimen of never leaving the bed and used bed pans. Healthier patients had access to their own private toilet. Stronger patients could work on doctor approved exercises, while even healthier TB patients who weren't ready to leave facilities yet could spend the rest of their time working around the camp or sanatorium.  Below is how Arthur would have looked getting treatment if he wasn’t in a hut or tent:

Above: Women receiving treatment. Below: An 1899 TB facility. Most tuberculosis sanitoriums were built from 1905 onwards so John’s era was FULL of them. The peak of the sanitarium era though was 1920-1940ish.

The problem is TB patients had a very chance of suffering from pneumonia once TB went into remission. It's happened in tons of my case studies. If Arthur could have survived both TB AND pneumonia, then he would have been considered "Ok". Not good, but “Ok”. However, I can't predict how long he would have lived afterwards. Some TB patients had tuberculosis come in a second wave. This is, unfortunately, very common. Some people lived a few months, a few years and some lived decades after surviving the second wave.

 Fortunately, survival after two waves include people who lived hard, like Arthur. Trudeau lived till 68, and that is after 2 bouts of TB and pneumonia, with the third wave of TB being his cause of death.

This is very likely a reason why Arthur would have been in New Austin if they had kept him in the epilogue and continued the TB storyline. I personally do NOT think John was ever going to kill him. MISC NOTES: Related to RDR:  Important side note: Sex workers were especially blamed for spreading TB which makes sense because of the contact with multiple people, but it's not that different than someone who works at a factory every day, runs a shop or works at the docks, or in similar situations. Anyone could spread it. This is why it is actually technically very offensive to ask someone like Abigail if she had TB because it would be a way to imply she is unclean as a person. (Which people in the game already believe with some of the fandom similarly treating her poorly.) The history of sex work is my other specialty, so I am very familiar with their history. I will say, from what I gathered, sex workers did NOT seem to be that much more affected than others, but at the same time, we don't have a lot of records of people who weren't white upper-class Christian men. So we have these records if these people were arrested, but remember that all of the examples of people I mentioned were viewed as second-class citizens. Therefore, we have hardly any records of sex workers as actual people and historians have to be creative to find other ways to research them properly.  Modern day: TB is also becoming antibiotic-resistant at a frightening pace. This will become a massive problem. Treatment  requires at least two antibiotics - streptomycin being the main choice for the primary antibiotic. This treatment lasts months, and these antibiotics are insanely strong. They can really mess with the body's system. I've seen it. My father was one of the lucky ones only having to take the pills for 8 months. Many others take it from a year to even 18 months. Other people take the pills and undergo radiation therapy to treat TB. Modern science can't produce enough new antibiotics to outpace it, but alternative treatments do appear to be promising.  If you want me to write more about TB or for any other history questions, feel free to send me an anon/message.  Additional pics: Below: Sanitarium built around 1905.

Below: An example of a finished Sanatorium in 1911ish:

[1-800-local-slut]

Colorful Imagination

Klaus Mikaelson x Black! Reader

Warnings: smut lol

Not proof read, also not my best work but adrenaline will do that

I was tipsy and could’ve died, so I dissociated and this was born. Ya girl is still here though, so I’m gonna keep writing smut until either my writer's block goes away or I actually do die. Also, Klaus is a munch. I don’t make the rules, I just write them.

Klaus was always an imaginative person. From his birth, his death, and his rebirth these skills only heightened. He could imagine nearly anything and see it clearly like one of his paintings. Now, he was imagining something, or someone far more interesting than his horrific childhood. He was picturing you. The gorgeous woman who had ensnared his entire mind, his blood and nearly everything. He’d see your brown skin, and your dark brown eyes looking up at him.

Right now, standing in his bedroom after dropping you off home he was imagining a lot. He was imagining you, on your knees for him as he sat on the edge of his bed. You’d start slow, the scent of vanilla overwhelming his horny brain. Unbuckling his belt, and slowly pulling down his boxers, he’d pet your bohemian braids and calm your nerves. 

The way your small hands would wrap around his dick, and stroke up and down. Your brown skin would clash against his pale skin, the tip red and angry. Your nails would provide a pleasurable scrape while he taunted you from above.

“Someone’s eager.” He’d quip with a knowing smirk. You’d give a bashful smirk, and take him into your mouth. The way you would hollow out your cheeks, sucking his brains like his dick was a straw. He would chuckle and toss his head back a little, easing himself up on his elbows.

He’d watch you with wicked eyes, brain thinking about what he was about to do to you. He spread your legs open, after tossing you onto his bed. Then, he’d lick his lips teasingly. He pictured running his tongue over your clit, and you’d jump in a moan. His eyes would never leave your dark ones, hands secured on your soft skin. Then he’d start, flicking his tongue. Your head would lean back and your arch your back in a gasp. 

When he slipped two fingers in you, you’d jolt. Klaus would scissor his fingers and hit your G-spot. You would jump and toss your head back once more. He’d keep his eyes pinned on yours, staring into your soul. He’d fall deeper and deeper entranced into your trance with every passing moment. 

He’d feel your blood pump, and hear your heart rate jump. You’d maybe jerk your hips upwards, wrapping your legs around his curly hair. He’d close his eyes, sinking deeper into the safe haven that resides between your thighs. Perhaps you were a screamer. You’d cry out his name, and a jumble of unintelligible pleas for release as he brought you closer and close. Maybe you’d groan out his name, and let out a pleased moan when he’d twist his fingers. He’d move his fingers, telling you to come closer to the brink of your orgasm, and once you were there he’d toss you over. 

Your entire body would tremble and your manicured nails would pull his blonde curls. He’d groan, and lap at your cum as it escaped you. He would be eager to show you the boundless pleasure you deserve. To show you how it feels to sunder yourself to him and all the joys he could offer you. Your thighs would tremble, and your entire body would shake. He’d continue his brutal ministrations, perhaps some  sort of punishment for teasing him with yourself. 

Once the trembling resides, he’d kiss up your thighs, and pull you into a searing kiss. Pressing his lips to yours, he’d taste your lip gloss that he loved oh so much. Pulling away, he’d leave you breathless. You’d stare up at him, eager yet nervous for more. With a devilish smirk, he’d remove your shirt, leaving you in a beautiful lace bra. Perhaps one he’d picked out himself.

Then he’d start the true fun.

[its-all-or-nothing94]

Formual 1 / MotoGP Fusion - Part 7

Summary: You are the first female MotoGP rider ever. You race for KTM Factory Racing, leaving Jack Miller your teammate, and one of your main sponsors is Red Bull. You grew up with most of the riders but your best friend is the multiple MotoGP Champion Marc Marquez. After your horrific crash the year before, you are ready to start the new season and probably a new love?

Pre-Story - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

A/N: Sorry for the long break - here wo go agaiiiin!

Ship: Not telling yet (Marc Marquez, Carlos Sainz or Charles Leclerc)

Warnings: none

Taglist: @laneyspaulding19, @luciaexcorvus, @raizelchrysanderoctavius, @darlingssaturn

Y/NY/L/N22 ☑️ Nice, France

Liked by marcmarquez93, charles_leclerc and 1'536'428 others

Y/NY/L/N22 Got myself a new toy 😄 and yes, I'm talking about the bike.

View all 3'864 comments

marcmarquez93 😍😍 It's a beauty. Y/NY/L/N22 If you behave, I maybe let you ride it. 😉

charles_leclerc 😍

annie546 Did anyone notice, that she is in Nice? Only 30 minutes from Charles? 🤔

charles_lover Maybe they went on a tour together? I read that he owns a bike as well.

miasonda Did anyone notice, that she explicitly said that she meant the bike as a new toy? Like if we should mean something else? 😂😂

charles_leclerc ☑️

Liked scuderiaferrari, marcmarquez93 and 1'563'842 others

charles_leclerc A beautiful bike trip ☀️

View all 1'243 comments

arthur_leclerc❤️

sania OMG there's the proof! He was on a bike tour with Y/N!😱😱

ferrarigirl HE WAS!

vaniasilo Did anyone else notice, that this is the first time, Charles posted his bike? 🤔

pierregasly Icon 💪🏼💪🏼 charles_leclerc Next time, you have to come, Mate!

🔥 Y/N Y/L/N's Cryptic Post Sparks Intrigue: Is Charles Leclerc Her Co-Pilot on a Romantic Ride? 😱🏍️

😄 A new toy, a new adventure? Fans speculate as Y/L/N's Instagram post hints at a possible connection with Leclerc amid the scenic landscapes of Nice! 🚀🌉

Just when fans thought they had unraveled the tangled web of relationships surrounding MotoGP star Y/N Y/L/N, a new twist emerged as she posted a cryptic picture on Instagram, accompanied by a caption that set hearts racing. Y/L/N's intriguing post featured a snapshot of herself with a brand-new bike, along with the words, "Got myself a new toy 😄 and yes, I'm talking about the bike." The photo was taken in the picturesque city of Nice, France, located a mere 30 minutes away from Monaco, the hometown of F1 driver Charles Leclerc. 😱🏍️🌉

As fans quickly connected the dots, the speculation intensified. Could Y/L/N's newfound "toy" be symbolic of an exciting new chapter in her personal life? The proximity of Nice to Leclerc's hometown fueled rumors of a potential connection between the two racing stars, leaving fans breathless with anticipation. 🚀❤️

Fueling the fire of speculation, Charles Leclerc himself shared a picture on Instagram, showcasing his own bike, yet neither Y/L/N nor Leclerc tagged each other in their respective posts. This omission only added to the intrigue, leaving fans to ponder whether the two were on the scenic journey together. 🔍🧐

As social media erupted with debates and wild theories, followers and enthusiasts alike questioned whether the stunning landscapes of Nice played host to an intimate escapade between Y/L/N and Leclerc. With emotions running high and imaginations running wild, fans now find themselves on the edge of their seats, eagerly awaiting any further hints or confirmation of a blossoming romance between the two racing stars. 💘🌟

Amidst the exhilarating twists and turns of the love saga, one thing remains certain: the racing world will be forever captivated by the electrifying entanglements and unexpected connections that continue to unfold, both on and off the track. Strap on your helmets, folks, for the ride is far from over, and the truth may soon be revealed in the wind of their love-fueled adventures! 🏁🔥

arthur_leclerc and lorenzotl started follow you

[eddiemunsons80sbaby]

Let's Get Physical

Pairing: JoeKeeryxReader

Request: I love your Eddie and Joe Quinn smut and saw you would take requests for Joe Kerry too. You know those pictures of him in the gym? Yeah. Those. I can't stop thinking about gym sex with him. You can do whatever you want with that but just sweaty, intense, rough sex.

18+ Only

This is my first Keery one shot so please be kind.

Your feet pounded a steady rhythm against the treadmill, Lizzo telling you to dust your shoulders off and keep moving through your Airpods. You were finding your concentration slipping. You'd been training for a marathon for the past month and you'd been slowly upping your weekly mileage. It was hard to focus on your pace and time when such a beautiful distraction was a mere ten feet from you, doing bicep curls.

Chiseled abs, lean muscular arms, and beautifully toned shoulders were consuming every ounce of brain space you had. It should be against the law for that man not to wear a shirt. He could cause horrific accidents looking like that. You could see the headlines now. Woman suffers severe burns to her face and chest after collapsing on treadmill, too distracted by hot guy. Woman suffered broken face after dropping a weight on herself, too distracted by shirtless man. He was a menace to society. Who looked like that?

His pants hung low and your eyes ran over that delicious v that pointed just where your curiosity wanted to take you. His chest was covered in a fine layer of hair that you wanted to grab with your fingers and tug, just enough to make him moan from that beautiful mouth. You watched a bead of sweat trickle down along the side of his neck and your tongue darted out, unconsciously wanting to follow it. You wanted to run your hands and...

Shit! His eyes met yours from under the black ball cap resting on his head and he gave you a knowing smile. He knew exactly what you were doing and you were pretty sure he could tell from the flushed skin and lust blown eyes exactly what you were thinking too.

Completely humiliated, you pressed the stop button on the treadmill, anxious as it slowed down. You just wanted to get off this thing, grab your shit, and get out of here. Your eyes moved to the distance display and went wide. You'd been running for eight miles? That wasn't the plan. You were only supposed to do five. Damn that beautifully distracting man.

Hopping off, you took a long drink of water and grabbed a towel to wipe the sweat from your face. Turning to head to the locker room, you jumped when you found your way blocked by the exact person you were hoping to avoid.

He rested one arm on the treadmill, one foot crossed over the other, an amused smile on lips you wanted to nibble. Jesus, you just knew this man tasted delectable. He tilted his head slightly, pulling his hat off with one hand and your knees went wobbly. His hair! Love in Christ, was there nothing about this man that wasn't perfect? You went to step around him but he side stepped quickly, blocking your way once again.

"You know, you were running for a really long time," he said, his voice melting over you like a warm stick of butter. "You need to stretch. If you don't, you'll be sorry later."

Pressing your lips together, you willed your body to calm down as you responded, "I will. I'll just stretch at home."

"I could help you, you know." He ran his tongue along his lower lip before biting it gently. "You never get as deep of a stretch as you do with a partner."

Fuck. Your brain ceased working, all synapses backfiring, circuits completely blown. You sucked in a sharp breath, willing your body to stop betraying you and do what you needed it to do before you did something stupid.

"Okay."

Yeah, that was the stupid thing you'd been referring to. The man led you to a mat and instructed you to lie on your back. You did, your body submitting to him, willing to do anything he wanted.

"I'm Joe, by the way," he said, his hand gripping your calf and pressing your leg up. His hand caressed your leg as he moved to hold your ankle. He leaned his whole body into it, pressing your leg closer to your body and your thighs clenched as you felt his obvious arousal press against you. "Damn, you're really tight. I knew you needed a good loosening."

"You're awfully good at this," you breathed, fingers scrabbling to grip something as he did the other leg, his body pressed fully against yours, mouth so close you could kiss him, the scent of him taking over your sense, all musk, warm and woodsy.

"I'm awfully good at a lot of things," he replied, his tongue slipped out between his lips as he held your gaze. "You want to find out?"

The next moments were a blur as he yanked you up from the mat, leading you to the men's locker room. The minute the door shut, he was on you, pressing you against the lockers, the cool metal sending a shiver over your flushed skin. It was like your mouths were in a battle, tongues and teeth warring with each for dominance. Your fingers moved through his chest hair, tugging it until you elicited the moan you'd been fantasizing about.

His hands splayed over your ass, fingers digging into the flesh. Then his lips were everywhere, leaving a white hot trail of desire everywhere they touched. Joe grabbed onto your sports bra, roughly yanking it over the top of your head. And then those beautiful lips covered your lips, teasing and torturing you in the most satisfying way. Your center ached with a need like you'd never known.

"Shower," he growled, hands gripping your face and you realized how large they were which didn't help the desire coursing through you, walking you backward while his mouth devoured yours once again. He yanked the shower curtain closed behind him, shoving you back so you were up against the wall once again. His hands pulled on your leggings but you slapped him away.

His eyes darted up to yours in surprise. You placed your hands on that alluring chest and shoved him so he was back against the wall this time. Your tongue ran over your bottom lip, your eyes focused on that delicious v along his hips once again. You had to know what it led it. You had to see it. Dropping into a low squat in front of him, your fingers gripped the hem of his sweatpants, pulling them down his legs.

And there it was, right in front of your face. It was even better than your brain could have imagined. Shit, you wanted to know what it felt like filling you up but first you wanted to know what it tasted like. You took him in your hand, delighting in the hiss that he made through gritted teeth above you.

You gazed up at Joe, giving him a slow smile as you dragged the tip of him over your lips. He grunted, hips moving toward you, eyes going wide with anticipation as he watched you flick your tongue over the tip.

"Fuck...you're such a tease..." he groaned, hands running over his face, head falling back as you ran the flat of your tongue from the base of his shaft, all the way to the tip, before swirling your tongue around him. "Jesus Christ, baby!"

You moaned against him, the sounds he was making driving you insane. There was something about how you were making this man come completely undone that was almost enough to send you over the edge right there.

Gripping his cock in your hand, you slowly worked him, your mouth only sucking on the tip. Raising him up just enough, you slid your tongue along the side before running your tongue over his balls, gently sucking one into your mouth.

Joe's hand slammed against the shower wall, his other coming to grab onto a handful of your hair. You were teasing him, wanting to drive him just to the edge of insanity before giving him what he wanted but he was done with your games.

"If you don't stop teasing..." he huffed.

"You'll what?" you challenged, smiling up at him.

"I am going to fuck that pretty mouth."

"Don't just threaten, do it," you urged, wanting this beautiful man to completely lose control.

"You asked for it," he growled. "Open up."

You obediently parted your lips and he thrust forward, sending the tip of his cock all the way to the back of your throat. You gagged for a second and he pulled back just enough. When he thrust again, you were ready for it, relaxing your throat to take as much of him back as you could.

"You're doing so good for me," Joe praised, his fingers tightening, pulling on your hair as he fucked your face. "Your mouth was made for this cock, babygirl."

Your hands gripped his ass, nails digging into the flesh for purchase as he thrust against your face again and again. Then his cock was gone, hands lifting you and spinning you, pressing you against the shower wall.

"If your mouth feels that good around my cock, I have to know what this pussy feels like," he growled against your ear. "This is one of those things I'm so good at. I am going to fuck you until you're screaming my name so loud that everyone in this gym knows just how good you feel."

His hand hooked under your knee, lifting your leg and opening you up to him. You brought your hands to his shoulders as he guided himself to your entrance and then plunged into you in one swift move. Your eyes rolled back, a guttaral mewl rising up from your chest.

Joe pressed your leg farther up against your body, allowing him to reach spaces within you that you didn't even know existed. Your fingers dug into his skin as your legs trembled beneath you. He rutted into you again and again, his pace unforgiving and relentless, your bodies coming together audibly, made only louder by the acoustics of the shower wall.

You whimpered as he pulled out of you, but then he spun you, pressing your front against the shower before he unmercifully thrust into you again. Your hands splayed over the wall, vulgar sounds uncontrollably leaving your lips.

"That's it beautiful," he crooned, "come all over my cock."

"Make me," you challenged before crying out when his hand dove around the front of you and between your legs to find your clit.

"Gladly," he replied, pinching the sensitive nub between his thumb and forefinger.

"Jesus Christ..." you groaned, rocking your hips to meet his hand and his cock, the dual sensations quickly sending you in the direction of him succeeding. His fingers were ruthless and so damn skilled, circling, flicking, pinching...every muscle in your body was quaking, your stomach tightening. You screamed his name as your orgasm crashed over you light a speeding train into a wall.

"Fuck, yes," he ground out through gritted teeth, continuing to thrust into you as your walls pulsed around him. Joe quickly followed, filling you with his release before pulling out, his forehead falling to press against your shoulder.

You released a slow breath, willing your heart to stop racing, your lungs to catch air, your legs to work. You spun slowly around, keeping your hands on the wall to steady you. Joe grinned at you, leaning his head down and pressing his lips to yours.

"What do you say to a shower, some lunch, and then heading back to my place?" he asked. "There are so many things I am good at that I haven't even shown you yet."

Fuck. You weren't sure you would survive this day but what a hell of a way to go.