#and then I reminded her of some of the genuinely cruel shit she has said to me or to our mom in the heat of the moment

[misty--nights]

Episode 5, here we go! This episode is a roller coaster. It has some of the funniest gags in the series, but also some of the most heartbreaking scenes. I'm surprised at how many thoughts I had about the characters with this one.

The editing of the recap has me dying! Who decided to cut from Niko asking if Edwin wanted to kiss Monty to that shot of Charles from when Edwin was enraptured by him and then back to Edwin saying "I don't know"? I gasped when I saw that. Fantastic

Charles is leaning in for a kiss when before Crystal says they need to talk. No, my boy, someone give him a hug

I said it before in episode 4, but it's wild to me that there was apparently like no real investigation done into Brad and Hunter's deaths

The envelope with Niko's letter has the same stickers as her envelope with rent from last episode. As someone who also finds every excuse to use cute stickers, I find this amazing

For all of Maxine's glaring problems, she actually makes a pretty good librarian. Love that she greets Niko by asking if she's done with her reading. Also love that apparently Niko borrows at least some of her manga from the library (we love supporting libraries in this house)

Charles looks genuinely intrigued when Niko mentions having her own case. I really wish we had gotten to see more scenes with these two because they'd make an amazing team. Just imagine the chaos and good vibes of the two of them combined

I know the eight ball is supposed to be predicting her imminent death, but the "outlook not so good" fits really well with the outlook of the date. And it shows right after she says she's feeling lucky about her case, so, I think it applies to that as well (in a way, you could say it's predicting Maxine's death in the episode? Maybe?)

When they go to the dragon's den, Brad says people don't go there anymore because they miss him and Hunter too much, which is an interesting way to put it. Like, I understand why he'd interpret it like that, given the kind of people the two of them are, but still. It didn't click until now that that is most likely not what other students think when they imagine going to the dragon's den

Edwin looks so concerned about what a hand job is. Especially after Charles reaction, I'm dying

There is a genuine record scratch after Maxine mentions the nightshirt thing. I rarely pay attention to the background music in shows and music, so this one took me by surprise. It works really well with the scene, though, I like it

I know part of the reason this case affects Charles so much is because he's trying to tell himself he's not this terrible person because of his trauma and anger. But do you also think Brad and Hunter remind him of the guys he used to hang out with when he was alive? The ones who killed him? He looks really hurt when he tells them "you were cruel just for the shits", and I think it would make sense for him to be remembering his own friends' cruelty. Towards that other boy they were kicking and that he tried to defend, and towards Charles himself when they killed him. I think maybe in that moment he's remembering the way they laughed as they hurt him, how they cheered as he froze in the lake and tried to avoid their blows

Did they put eyeliner on Charles just so that his eyes would look all smudged every time he cries? Because it's devastating seeing him like that each time. And that hopeful smile he gets right before hugging Edwin? Ugh, my heart

Also in that scene, the way Charles nuzzles against Edwin's face during the hug, I swear!! Someone needs to give this boy like a thousand hugs right now

"I could smooth everything out again." This line breaks me knowing Crystal's backstory. Can you imagine her, letting David posses her because he promised to dull out all of this rage and hurt that have festered inside of her for years? And he does, he takes all of that and the memories and everything, but she's left trapped inside of herself, unable to do anything but watch him do as he pleases with her body. I think she should also get like a thousand hugs right away

Is Monty's ring a bird skull? Because that's adorable and very on brand

[mdhwrites]

Was Boscha Mistreated In S3?

TL:DR Boscha is actually one of the best written parts of S3, mostly because she actually has some efficiency to how she was written. This does not mean the writing succeeds in its goals because the misguided priorities and management of S3 of TOH is why this isn't some sort of praise. It is the ALMOST success in three specials that I think are objectively a complete failure of writing.

@hinobodyishere wanted a follow up to their previous ask about Boscha and I at first dismissed and deleted it, partially due to misinterpretation. That since we did get Boscha in S3, how was she handled? Was she given respect in regards to the trauma foisted upon her?

Well... Yeah actually. For the most part she is. They genuinely tried to give her a sympathetic character arc and their fumbling of it didn't have to do with disrespect, it had to do with one of the DUMBEST decisions of all of S3 I think. Not one that breaks themes just... Why would you do this? I have NO explanation for why the choice while I can at least tell you a concept for why other things were done.

But let's start with the good and that's that in a season that has some of the absolute least efficient storytelling I have EVER seen, especially in terms of wrapping shit up, Boscha keeps her biggest strength as a character and that is weirdly subtlety and in turn efficiency. Anyone who loves Boscha can probably back me up on this that so many of her weird quirks as a character come from small choices. I've talked in the past about how Amity is the ONLY person she never is mean or cruel to, even once Amity abandons her and that shows how subservient she was to Amity, not the other way around like most people portray it. This also coincides with her response to Luz coming to die. "Wow, you're a really good friend." And that implies she genuinely does understand friendship and loyalty and from what we can tell, she may be mean to even those around her but she is ALWAYS loyal and faithful to those she cares about. She knows what being a good friend is.

I bring this up not just to praise Boscha but also to lead into her trauma. We are explicitly shown her losing essentially her last two friends. Any trace of what her past was is GONE because of the Collector (your reminder that the Collector is a fucking monster btw). She is the last of her friend group. The last one still carrying the torch for what she thought reality was before Amity kicked her to the curb out of nowhere. Skara presumably did the same to be a part of the Entrails. Her reality is already fracturing and it was her own failure this time to protect them that led them to die. She is all that exists of the Banshees anymore. This is reinforced by how Miki manipulates her. She threatens Boscha with being in danger. With being vulnerable, something she's not used to because she always saw herself as Queen Bee and either sharing a throne with Amity or by herself. She is desperately holding onto what little she has left.

Willow's scene next is... Up and down to put it mildly. It is mostly to dogpile on the already heavy and EXTREMELY forced shit they're doing with Willow. A reminder: No one is asking fuck all of Willow this episode, few EVER have, and yet 'Dependable Willow' comes out of fucking nowhere. So while Boscha talking about the weight of responsibility is actually good for her, it is in line with the rest of Boscha's feeling that she's pressured to keep walls up against the world, it's not really anything new and it has little to do with her current trauma. At best, it helps explain why she's leading Hexside because she's the one who actually will take responsibility.

Then we get to the scene I mostly LOVE. Yes, I am a Lumischa shipper but I don't like it for the unrequited love angle. Like I said before, Boscha has lost EVERYTHING. She has lost way more than any of our 'trauma' victims amongst the Hexside crew. Even Hunter was never alone like she has been for MONTHS after having to watch TWO of her friends die instead of just one like Hunter did. The closest he ever got was the time between Hollow Mind and Labyrinth Runners which was like what? A week? It is genuinely incredible how shitty Boscha's life has been the entire time since the Collector showed up. Miki isn't even really a friend. She feeds into Boscha's fears and paranoia. She is actively trying to pull out the most damaged and worst parts of Boscha, essentially using her PTSD against her, for again, MONTHS.

So here is her chance to get SOMETHING back. To reverse the original sin that shattered her world. Finally, the Blight mentality that she must have at least gotten some of from Amity that she's lived her life with can come back. Amity can come back. That's why she's desperate and pleading with her. Then-

"Boscha, you're hurting me!"

I... There is something about the delivery of that line that makes my skin crawl in a way I can't 100% justify. It's not even out of character. It's her last chance after all so she'll go pretty far to keep Amity there. It's just... Not many characters physically hurt each other and Boscha doing it here comes across, especially after the faux confession, like a needy ex getting ready to assault their old lover. For an episode that is essentially trying to redeem Boscha, I don't think it's a good choice. She's been villainous enough already, you didn't need to go that extra step but that may just be me.

But, writing wise, this scene is correct. It is her darkest hour. The moment that forces her to self reflect and choose a path. Is she a Banshee, or is she a slave? Does she stand proud like she always has but now for the right reasons or does she cower in villainy?

And we don't get a proper climax. Then again, neither did the episode.

We're going on a tangent but bear with me because it sets up what I think needed to happen. See, Boscha showing up and promising to kick Kikimora's ass off screen is... Bad. It's not a climax, it's instead tepid and weak, complete with, in the SECOND TO LAST EPISODE, "Don't think we're square" or whatever the fuck Willow says to Boscha. Why? Why are you STILL kicking narrative cans down the lane instead of actually giving any fucking resolutions? It's so indicative of the entire problem of S3 just having no fucking clue, nor interest, in wrapping anything up or giving any sort of real satisfaction to narrative plot points IT CREATES.

Worse yet is tying this around Kikimora of all people! I actually don't hate her as a character but like Boscha, the minute Belos is dead, her utility is over. Her dramatic weight has been gone for over half a season because ever since Falls and Follies, she's been a gag character. Yet, she's canonically beaten our main characters as many times as Belos has and unlike Belos, the main cast has never beaten her themselves, especially in a fair fight if you want to count Hunter's fight against her while she's drugged as a win against her. This is a character who is going to get the same reaction Luz gave: "You again? REALLY!?" because like... Why? Of all the characters to bring back, why bring back Kikimora as a final antagonist? I actually do have explanations for that, it's part of why S3 could never have been good even with a longer version of itself, but different blog.

No, it is the fact that despite bringing her back, despite giving her another objective win against our heroes... She isn't beat. We actually don't even know if Hexside succeeds in beating her. In this adventure show, the villain could have just peaced the fuck out and kept doing whatever she wanted instead of getting her ass beat and giving us a real action scene, something that is sorely lacking in For the Future. It makes no sense narratively, by genre convention, or thematically. And don't claim they ran out of time because that means they kept Kikimora through however many drafts it takes to make an episode and somehow decided to never write in how to actually give a climax to this episode that isn't just Camila and Luz talking about a subject that ANY villain could inspire by kicking Luz's ass.

So. What should have been here?

My suggestion is a roughly three minute trick, maybe less. I'm not asking for a lot of time, you can probably get it from not bothering to show Belos during the main portion of the episode and let him showing up at the Collector's Castle be his whole appearance because the foreshadowing of Caleb leads to literally nothing. In this fight scene though, we'll get our redemption.

Luz is lost and they're still struggling against Kikimora. Suddenly, Kikimora gasps and fires past them. Her shot shows scattered stone and smoke... And Belos walks through it. He smirks at Kiki and asks, "Ah, I see you're still as impulsive as ever." Kiki fires again as Belos gets past Hunter who is seperating the others from Belos. They all see a stone pillar rise at the last second and explode. Amity sees Belos wink at her while hidden by the smoke and looks across the way. Emira winks back at her.

Belos waves a hand and from the Earth, an abomination of rock, dirt and plant begins to rise. He speaks again but we don't look at Belos, we see Emira with Barkus next to her down a potion, her eyes glow with oracle magic and she speaks through that, channeling Belos more purely than she could otherwise. Kikimora screams at him that he's dead and starts to pummel the abomination when a screech sounds from above. Viney drops a potion from Puddles and it crashes into Kikimora's cockpit. From it, tentacles comes out, trying to grab Kikimora but instead knocking her out of it. She falls. The ground zooms close. She shuts her single eye to brace for impact.

It doesn't come.

She opens her eye. She is met by three.

Boscha keeps her face close and her voice low as she says, "You tried to silence me. You tried to take the last thing a Banshee has to her. The thing that anyone who knew our team, knew my friends, would be familiar with. The only thing that'd confuse them is that it's not a nerd in my hand but a little snake. I for one welcome the change." Boscha's face is lit up and you can see fire dancing in her eyes as she says, "Now, like a Banshee, let me hear you SCREAM!"

And Kikimora's scream scatters the birds as a pillar of flame erupts. We don't see the body, to keep it ambiguous and for pacing. Instead, Viney shows up to give a bit of healing and tell them they can go, we've got this. Then everyone leaves and joins back up with Luz to be kidnapped by the Collector.

In this version, we get a real climax and an actual send off to Hexside. Besides Skara, who could be shown coordinating things for a moment, we get a send off of all the named characters we know. I didn't mention Matt but his construction magic is there. So is illusions. So is a lot of types of magic working together, you know, like the show says is better, to pull this off. True unity between more characters than we get in the FINALE. And then a final moment for Boscha to make it clear she's still her but she knows who deserves her rage now rather than using it simply to stay on top.

It is A resolution to the core plot of the episode. You know, that thing that never happened, instead we got the SECOND resolution of Luz's character arc and that was it. Even if people might have still called it filler, it would at least have served as not just a cameo for Hexside but a curtain call for it that also highlights the changes to the kids there that Luz introduced. It would have SOME sort of point besides being there for Willow/Huntlow fans and a very forced "I want to be understood" that only makes sense from a meta perspective and makes Luz look like an over demanding bitch in canon.

But we didn't get anything like that. Why? ...I don't fucking know. I use a lot of words to try to explain shit but I've got nothing for you. The best I can is that it's because the writers felt obligated to include Hexside but no one actually cared about it or its characters and I just don't know why you would write that way, not when you had so much else to wrap up.

But for wrapping up this blog: Boscha continues to be one of the most weirdly nuanced characters of all of TOH and I kind of have to assume at this point it was entirely on accident. If attention would have ruined her, I would rather they disrespect her and let her stand tall as the time the broken clock was right. See you next tale.

======+++++======

This is your reminder that at chapter 28, Boscha hijacked my over 300k word behemoth, with over 100 chapters, and essentially became the main character of a story that was supposed to be Lumischa. I LOVE writing this bitch and have thought way too much about her.

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[nezz-cringe-crib]

teru mikami analysis bc i love him

hi i'm just here to rant about how much i love teru mikami's character because he's genuinely such a well written character. this is probably gonna be unorganized and just rambly. i might rewrite it later but for now i just need another reason to procrastinate and focus on my silly emos.

(oh yeah also spoilers if that isn't obvious)

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

mikami is probably one of the best representations of religious trauma (at least imo and from what i've seen). i haven't read the manga yet and a lot of this might just be me projecting, but either way he's still the top in my books. there's SO many scenes and details about him that remind me so much of myself when i was still heavily involved with christianity (and to be clear, this is my own interpretation, not me tryna shit on any religions. that's a big wompwomp no-no. respect ppl hoes). so here's some random bits about mikami that make me go "OH SHIT ME-CORE ALERT!!!!":

the entire thing with his mom. i know that when he reflects back on his mom's death, he talks about how he's happy the whole thing happened because "she's evil and god killed the evil for me thanks god" but i completely believe the whole thing is just him brainwashing himself. like think about it for a second. his mom just died in the same car crash that involved his main tormentors, and this was also right after he was holding a slight grudge against his mom for defending said tormentors (she obviously didn't do that. she was just trying to help mikami view the world from a more realistic point of view to keep him out of trouble, but when you're that young and that passionate about justice, to him it'll seem like she's defending the same evil he's trying to fight). when you combine these things together, this is just gonna lead to a WHOLE lot of conflicted and lost feelings, and we see that in mikami. he had just been through a rough conversation with his mom, and she died before he could even get a chance to really think about said convo. all he is left with is a mixed feeling of loss, resentment, and fear. however, on the other hand, her death meant that the tormentors she was defending had also died. so to him, it has to mean something, doesn't it? the group of bastards that had been ruining his and others' lives and had finally been rid of. and if this had happened right after his mother had been defending them, it has to be a sign, right? there has to be a reason for all this hurt, right? when mikami is viewing the world through these lenses, it makes sense that'd he'd suddenly want a reason to justify his mom's death, even though it feels unbelievably cruel. so he finds a reason, and he finds that reasoning through god. this is honestly something that i used to do a lot when i was still heavily invested in my church, and i'm sure there are others who have been in the same situation. when the world is unjustifiably cruel, people will make up justification for it. it's a fear tactic that many people fall prey to in religious environments, and if not treated, it can fester into much more toxic environments for the people around them.

^^^ tldr: mikami copes with his mom's death by telling himself "it's okay that my mom died!! she was working for satan and god had to kill her!! thanks god!!" and if that's not the most religious-trauma-core shit out there then idk what is.

ALSO LITERALLY JUST EVERYTHING WITH LIGHT'S DEATH???? YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH THAT SHIT HURT MAN. the realization that your god is not the god you thought you had been following used to be some of the scariest shit out there to me and mikami had it thrown right at his face when light died. not only was his god gone, but his god was never a god to begin with. he was just some guy. some pathetic guy who was now bleeding out and screaming on the ground. he had dedicated his life to this thing, and it was never real to begin with. and so he dies with it. because when the god revolving your life is gone, what other life do you really have? mikami was the perfect fucking example of that and i need it to be talked about more fucking please guys he's literally just like me fr i swear.

that's all i can think of right now tbh. if there's any typos in here no there isn't you're wrong nuhuh. anyways i fucking love mikami's character. he might be an antisocial autistic boyloser edgelord but he's MY antisocial autistic boyloser edgelord and i will defend him with my life. that hoe did EVERY wrong thing but your honor he is just a silly guy.

[empressofmankind]

ON THE FIRST DAY OF CHRISTMAS

MY TRUE LOVE SENT TO ME

[Crocodile x F!OC]

Explicit - 5.5k words / 13 pages

(A/N) One large dick refusing to be contained, two bananawani for a picture perfectly framed. Three excellent sets of nightwear, and four shots that caught genuine care. 

Actually, a teenager's absolute worst nightmare.

Nico Robin is a teen in the cruel throes of puberty, peer pressure and that never-ending sense of social shame. For I realised a few days ago that she has a massive gap in her canon from about age 12-ish onward until Crocodile runs into her at 24. So, as her teens match up beautifully with the nuclear disaster that is Crocodile and Shiv's marriage, I decided that what this insane ship really needed was a teenager and zero tools to deal with it. Also, the notion of him having been stuck fake single-parenting Robin after everything went royaly south with Shivs just tickles me, personally.

This story is set around the same time period as ‘Hooked On You’ and ‘The House Always Win’, in Alabaste at Rainbase, mostly in and around Rain Dinners. Because apparently, I am not over these two.

It may be a tad less polished than my usual stuff, because I wrote it at the break of my Christmas morning to deliver it to you all on your Christmas day. Enjoy!

Tag(s): Teenage rage quit. Reprehensible parenting. Several amazing sexy lingerie modelling moments, courtesy of yours truly being horny on main on Christmas morning. We've also got dry humping, hand jobs, some good fingering and dicks breaking containment simply by being that darn large. Graphic sex. Excellent banther. Solid comedy, if I may say so myself. Absolutely filthy language. Shivs too. Girl made him lose his shit. Size difference is still relevant, stretching and edging too. I'd say orgasm denial, though neither was down for that one. At least they got to wreck eachother real good in the end. I'll be over there, helping Robin putting herself back into the system. I'd wanna disappear off the face of the earth, too.

🐊 🐊 🐊 

“You can't do this to me!” Robin all but stamped her feet.

Crocodile glanced away from Shivs to the fuming teenager, smoke escaping him as he caught her angry gaze. “I didn't realise we needed your permission.”

“This is humiliating!” she continued, beside herself with frustration. “I won't be able to show my face in public ever again!”

“You already can't, sweetie,” Shivs said in a tone not even on the same continent as comforting. “What with the World Government looking for you.”

“That’s not the point! You are murdering my social life!” Robin fumed as she glared at her adoptive parents. She'd sooner be an orphan again, she thought angrily. “Like, why are you even doing this? It's not like you need the money!”

Shivs tilted her head, taking the cigarillo from her mouth even. “It's fun?”

Robin switched her angry stare from her to Crocodile, but he was no help. Had the gall to chew that cigar as if he were actually thinking about it. 

“What she said,” he said through a cloud of smoke.

“Hrgh!” Robin balled her fists at them. “I hate you both!”

When neither particularly responded to her outburst aside from blowing out more smoke and perhaps raising an eyebrow, she turned and stormed out, slamming his office door. 

The Sphinxxx nightwear designer smoothed his tailored jacket with a nervous glance. “Will this be a problem, sir?”

“No.”

🐊 🐊 🐊 

When the photographer's assistant dimmed the ambient light of Crocodile's office to a softly flickering orange, Shivs felt the shift in mood. Of the office space, yes. But also her own, and Crocodile’s. The fact that there were nearly a dozen strangers fussing about them didn’t kill it as much as you'd think.

They'd just changed into the lingerie they were meant to model and were undergoing the fussy attention of the two resident make up artists. It was a nice set, though privately Shivs thought, not quite their style.

Shivs wore a just below hip length tube dress of sheer dark fabric that reminded her of stockings. It had a strip of opaque black silk that went around her pubes and breast only. The effect was interesting, she supposed. Crocodile wore matching boxer briefs made of the same sheer material, with thin opaque strips circling around his hips. However, the patch of cloth meant to obscure his business did not quite do its job as intended. And the fact that it had a subtle black zipper down the middle that appeared to go all the way around seemed like a hazard to her. But, Stefano - the Sphinxx designer who had envisioned these - was not one to argue fashion with, they’d already discovered. 

Fortunately, she’d managed to keep Crocodile from blowing the whole thing off at the first confrontation. He sat smoking at his desk now, blowing out smoke and creating personal thunderclouds around his head as one of the make up artists fussed with him. Could be have been far worse. She’d count this a win.

Cussing, Shivs fumbled with the small clap of her necklace behind her neck.

“Turn around, doll,” Crocodile said.

She glanced up to find him beside her, and wondered if he’d used his abilities because the poor make up artist was staring in their direction like a particularly dimwitted calf. Or perhaps he’d simply been rude.

“Thanks,” she said as she turned, bending her neck as she felt his touch against it. It should be illegal that he could unclip those with one hand while she barely managed half the time with two.

“No, no! Absolutely not!” Stefano exclaimed as he came towards them, all hand gestures.

Shivs could tell from the way Crocodile’s touch abruptly stilled that the fashion designer better follow up with a good reason fast.

“Keep the jewellery, it is classy, distinguished,” Stefano said. “This is art.”

Shivs relaxed when she felt the weight of his hand shift against her neck, idly palming the tension from the muslces there. Good save, she thought.

“Ready when you are, Stef,” the photographer said as she tossed her cigarette bud into the nearest ash tray.

Stefano clapped his hands. “Let’s do this.”

An assistant hurried towards them with the ashtray for Crocodile to discard his smoke, but Stefano waved them away. “It adds character, atmosphere.”

And just as well, for it was only half way gone, and it was never a good time to make him stop.

Stefano motioned them towards the desk, though with far more grace this time. “Poses, if you please.”

“C’mon big guy,” Shivs said as she took the curve of his hook and tugged him up from his seat. He rose with due reluctance through a cloud of smoke.

🐊 🐊 🐊 

“They are magnificent!”

Stefano’s breathless exclamation at seeing the dozing bananawani on the rear deck of the casino was especially satisfying. The rest of his crew hung back, exchanging uncertain glances.

“They won’t do anything,” Crocodile rumbled around his cigar. He caught the designer’s gaze. “Unless I tell them to.”

“Haha, noted,” Stefano said with a small laugh soaked in anxiety.

Shivs slid her hand into Crocodile’s as they watched him harry his terrified crew into setting up. “You’re so mean.”

He glanced down at her, then at the busybodies. “Think they'll miss us for six minutes?” he rumbled as he blew out smoke.

“Only six?” she muttered into the skin of his bicep, pressing a kiss against it.

“Hrm.” 

There was a note of amusment under the grumpy noise though, and she was glad his mood had shifted for the better again.

“Oh, that is small,” Shivs chortled when they were shown what they’d be wearing this time. Both were unnecessarily complicated looking contraptions of thin black cord holding in place the most minimal bits of cloth necessary to pretend at decency. She cast a cheeky look up at Crocodile. "Can that even contain you?"

Turned out, it couldn’t.

The elastic had been too weak to keep his junk from doing exactly as it pleased, and she was fairly certain she’d cherish the visual of all of it ignoring the thong’s confines for a good long while. In the end, the poor tailor had to thread iron wire through the main cords. Once that was done, they tried again.

“Over here,” Stefano said as he directed them towards the corner of the deck with an unobstructed view of the oasis around Rain Dinners. From this angle, the rest of Rainbase city wasn’t visible and you could fancy yourself in the middle of the Alabaste desert.

“Would it be possible for one of them to be, well, closer?” he asked, his tone carefully polite.

Crocodile audibly patted his naked thigh and made the clack-clack sound from around his cigar that was usually the only warning some unfortunate soul got. Instantly, one of the massive creatures uncoiled from its nap and lumbered towards them, the deck shaking under its heavy steps.

Shivs rubbed the bananawani’s giant snout. “Hello handsome, you’re gonna be a supermodel too?” she cooed at it as the enormous beast settled down around them.

“P-perfect!” Stefano said, seeming equal measures excited and terrified. “Jace, framing?”

The photographer took aim, motioning them this way and that way before she raised a thumbs up. “Good shot. Got both the desert and the animal framing them.”

Shivs leaned against Crocodile’s thigh, a hand on his broad chest as she looked up at him. He reached around her, resting the curve of his hook against the small of her back.

“Turn a little to the camera, darling, just a little,” Jace said. “Yes, perfect. Hold that position.”

Ever so subtly, Shivs pressed up against his hip, a wave of languid pleasure rolling up her spine as if a quiet beach. The small huff that escaped her drew his attention immediately, his hooded gaze snapping unto hers.

“Let’s have a different one. Glass!" Stefano said as he gestured at one of his assistants, who immediately came over to them with a crystal tumbler. "Something sweet, I think. Hold it up as if you're sharing it."

"What was that, doll?" Crocodile rumbled under his breath as he held the tumbler between them, leaning in as if about to drink from it. His gaze snared hers. Every stealthy push of her pussy against his muscular thigh lit a spark of pleasure that threatened to catch fire in her core. The curve of his hook pressed against her lower back as her quiet pants clouded the glass. "You going to cum on my thigh with all of them watching?"

“Oh, perfect!” Stefano exclaimed, oblivious. “Please hold those expressions!”

“Don’t think he’ll be happy if I climb on your cock instead,” she whispered above the glass. "Though I am dying to."

She heard it as much as she felt it - the twack of snapping fabric and the sudden shift of his balls spilling against her thigh as his cock broke containment, erect for all to see.

“Oh-hoh!” Shivs chortled, leaning back as Crocodile cussed, sloshing the drink. He removed his arm from around her but his hook snagged on one of the uncountable bands of the delicate contraption she wore. It snapped and the whole thing came undone around her with a sigh of fabric that would have been satisfying if it had been intentional.

“Oh, dear!” Stefano, his voice pitching up two octaves as the tailor and his assistants rushed in to fix things. The photographer put away her camera and went for a smoke break.

Shivs struggled not to laugh at the tailor’s awkwardly cautious manner while Crocodile glared down at him. “That is never going to fit back in there.”

Stefano gave her a look more panicked than when Crocodile had threatened shutting all of this down. “What are we going to do?!”

Shivs shifted as the tailor’s assistant helped her into a bathrobe. “Well, Stefano,” she said with a waggle of her eyebrows. “I know what to do about that.”

He stared at her for a long moment.

Then clapped his hands.

“You heard the lady, everyone out! Out!”

“Soooo,” Shivs said when everyone was gone, running her hand up his hard shaft. “What are we going to do about this?”

Crocodile reached for the back of her head and drew her to him for a kiss. She responded greedily and he drank her eagerness in as the gluttonous creature within him stirred from sleep.

“If you put your pretty pussy around it, you're not coming off any time soon,” he rumbled against her lips when they parted.

"Tempting as that sounds, I suppose we can't."

He was rock hard as she fitted her palms around him, just below the head, and pulled down with short, firm tugs that drew rapidly louder grunts from him. Holding on to his hip, she straddled his thigh again and rode against him with a languid roll of her hips that send sparks of pleasure up her spine as she jerked him off.

When he reached down to rub her clit, she almost immediately lost it, so wound up the whole affair had left her.

"Cum. For me. Doll," he grunted near her ear, his breath hot bursts against the side of her neck.

She whined pitifully as a short, intense orgasm cut through her so sharp and clear that it brought tears to her eyes. Trembling against him as she clenched around his thigh, savouring the sweet after pleasure. When she recovered, his large cock throbbed in her grip, precum leaking down his shaft and running between her fingers.

“I need those pretty thighs of yours, sweetheart.”

“I need you inside me,” she complained as he dislodged her from his thigh. She reached for his neck, tried to drag him on top of her as she spread her legs. The reverberating groan that drew from him did things to her.

“No -ngh- honey.” He struggled to turn her around as she squirmed underneath him. He was this close to shoving his cock into her soaking pussy and fuck them both into a stupor.

Instead, he pulled her up unto her knees and then feet. He leaned unto his hand, dragging her up against him. The angle was awkward, but no matter. He hooked her thighs together, his cock straining between their soft, hot skin. He groaned as he pressed along her slick pussy.

She complained, fingers curling into fists on the wooden boards as she bucked back into his thrusts, his breath hot along her back.

“You wanted the damn photoshoot,” he grunted, picking up his pace. 

“I want y-you,” she whined, and he had to force his hook around her waist to keep her from tilting her hips trying to get his cock inside her.

If that happened, he wouldn't be able to stop.

He threw his weight around and leaned on his hook instead, so he could reach his hadn between her thighs.

“I know, doll,” he grunted as he rubbed two fingers roughly against her clit, drinking in the way her whines pitched into moans.

“I will - hrng- fuck you. So good. Later.”

“Oh-ah!” She cried out as a second orgasm rushed through her like an oncoming wave and he pounded himself through it with quick, hard thrusts between her trembling thighs. They squeezed around his shaft as he came with a low, drawn out groan that made the bananawani look up. She felt its timbre against her back as he dumped his load on the boards beneath them with a noise that made her bite her lip as she caught his gaze across her shoulder.

By the time the Sphinxxx crew dared approach, they’d settled beside the snoozing bananawani enjoying that glass of brandy and a smoke. It had hardly been enough, but his dick had gone soft and it took the edge off. That’d have to be enough.

“Shit,” Shivs said when she noticed the incriminatingly bar-shaped bruises streaking her left hip.

“Not to worry,” Stefano said quickly. “We can retouch that away.”

“I like it,” Crocodile rumbled against her ear as his fingertips traced her hip.

Shivs stretched against him, nestling into his hold as she sipped the brandy.

“Bet you do,” she said against the glass.

🐊 🐊 🐊 

“Ohhh, it has a little tail! I love that!” Shivs exclaimed when Crocodile had turned around to go where Stefano pointed them.

The last set of nightwear the Sphinxxx designer had brought for them to model was distinctly seasonal. And though not usually one for these kinds of things, Shivs had to admit she didn’t hate it. Predictably, she was wearing a Mrs Santa ensemble that comprised a very short red velvet skirt edged in genuine white fur that felt sinful soft against her skin. It came paired with an impressively v-necked hooded crop top in the same style. She’d opted for stockings and red heels to go with it, because it felt half-finished without them. Stefano had been thrilled.

However, instead of matching Crocodile with a Santa-inspired outfit, they’d actually gone for a reindeer. A very big, very hunky reindeer. 

The outfit comprised a short sleeved top that barely reached to his midrif and struggled to contain his pects, and boxer briefs with cut outs at the thighs that only just managed to contain him. The whole affair was a seasonal chocolate brown, except for the smudge of white on the chest, thighs and butt. It had taken some convincing to get him to wear it. Nevermind, the antlered headband. But that, and the boxer brief’s little reindeer tail delivered the whole thing to grace.

No, she definitely didn’t hate it.

They had returned inside, to Rain Dinners' primary casino floor, which had already been decorated the previous weekend for the upcoming season. Stefano had been conflicted about where they’d do the shoot - by the oiled wood and polished brass of the Grand Café bar, or at the colonnade with the nightlights of Rainbase through the window wall? Shivs had casually suggested they could do the shoot at her table, and he’d loved that.

“No, no, lay down flat. Pretend it's grass and this is summer - yes,” Stefano said as Shivs laid down on her stomach on the poker table, leaning on her elbows with her hands under her chin and idly kicking up her feet.

“Good, perfect!” His tone was as cheerful as the decor as he handed her the poker cards. “Hold ‘em like you mean it, darling.”

“Devil’s in the details.” Shivs winked as she tossed the third card back to him, then put down the right amount of community cards as well. “That’s a little too much.”

“That’s not what you said last night,” Crocodile rumbled not even pretending to lower his voice as he leaned over her as instructed.

That drew awkward looks from everyone, and a chortle from her that settled pleasantly in the pit of his stomach as he leaned unto his hand and pretended to be interested in the cards instead of the feel of her damp cunt against his cock. The moist spot discolouring her panties under the short skirt hadn’t lied.

“No, not quite,” Stefano rubbed his chin, then snapped his fingers. “Indicate one of the cards.”

“Well, that’s a solid tell,” Shivs said with a snort.

“Art, art! This is art, not an actual game,” Stefano protested. “Go on, please.”

Crocodile shifted his weight unto his hand, indicating one of the two cards Shivs held with the tip of his hook.

“A little nearer - perfect!”

He leaned in closer as the camera clicked, pressing his cock against her firm butt. “You look like a seasonal treat good enough to eat, doll,” he grunted under his breath.

Shivs arched her back with a little noise, spreading her thighs more to accommodate him. She glanced away from the cards to catch his gaze from the corner of her eye. “Don’t tempt me to take you up on that, Blitzen.”

The rumble at the back of his throat as she felt his cock stiffen against her made her smile at the cards.

When they rounded up the last shot, Stefano came towards them positively aglow. “This was wonderful,” he said in a near reverent tone. “Stunning. Perfect.”

Crocodile lit a cigar, letting the praise shower him. Shivs suspected it smoothed his rankled humours from earlier today.

“Let me gift you any one of these,” the Sphinxxx designer added. “It would be my honour.”

“These ones,” Shivs said immediately. It was the little tail, truly.

Crocodile glanced down at her through a cloud of smoke. Amusement tugged his lips around his cigar.

“What she said.”

🐊 🐊 🐊 

“That what you want, doll?” Crocodile said as he ran his hand up her side and under the top’s red velvet to palm her breast.

“Yes. It will turn out to be the best picture,” Shivs said as she laid down on her stomach and leaned on her elbows, hands under her chin. They were in their bedroom, facing the floor length mirrors opposite the curving window wall, wearing the seasonal set that she’d claimed for them. A cheeky glance at him from across her shoulder. “And I want to see it already.”

“You do look good, doll.” He pushed the short skirt up, fingers running through the soft fur edge and against her warm skin. He palmed her firm butt, pulling the cheeks apart. Her crimson panties were soaked, just as they’d been during the photo shoot. 

“My own seasonal treat,” he said as he leaned down to kiss her shoulder, sliding fingers under her panties and between her wet folds. Her little huff when he pushed two into her slick cunt made his cock throb for its tight embrace. “I wanted to rail you every time your pretty pussy pressed against me.”

“Wish you had,” Shivs said as she arched into his touch, pressed her hips into his palm as his fingers drew sparks of pleasure from her core with their every move. She spread her legs further, wanting him against her the way he’d been during the photo shoot. “Wani, please. Need to feel you against me, on top of me. Like that. Again.”

She whined when he withdrew his fingers, and moaned when she felt his hips and weight settle against her instead. Their gazes crossed in the mirror.

“That what you’d do, doll?” he asked as he leaned over her, all but cheek to cheek as he dry humped against her butt, making her feel his erection. “Come to the stable at night and let all the good reindeer stuff your tight, needy hole like a little slut?”

“I only know a bad one,” she replied with half a moan. “But his cock is the best one.”

“Is that so?” he grunted as he pulled the boxer brief’s crotch out of the way and pushed his hard shaft along her clothed cunt and groaned at how wet the thin fabric of her panties felt.

“He always fucks me good and proper,” she said between huffs of need, pressing back against him to feel more. “I love how his thick dick spreads me open, fills me so fucking good.”

“Like this?” He pulled the soaked fabric aside and shoved his hard cock into her in one smooth thrust, the slick noise of her soaking cunt drawing him in incriminatingly loud in the quiet bedroom.

Her moan broke and set fire to the desire that had been smoldering in his loins.

“Oh, yess!” she whined when she felt him bottom out, stretching her so deliciously around him. The tip boldly pushed against her back walls, wanting to go further still. She cramped around him when he stayed put, pushed back against his hips. “F-fuck me.”

He watched her squirm and claw at their bedsheets. Felt her squeeze so tightly around his shaft it made him clench his teeth. He leaned close against her, his breath hot against the back of her neck. “What’s that, doll?”

“F-fuck - ngh- me, damnit,” she cursed as she pushed back against him, desperate for friction, any friction. “Make me f-feel your thick cock. You filthy beast.”

“Beast?” he rumbled with a firm thrust that wrested a groan from him as he blunted against the back wall of her tight hole.

“A-ah! Yes!” she whined half muffled into a fistfull of sheets. “More. Damnit.”

“More?” he grunted into her ear as he locked his hand around her shoulder and his hook behind the far edge of their bed. He wanted, no, needed, to hear her scream for him.

“Ye-ah! Yes!” She’d all but buried her face in their bedsheets, fingers clenching around the pale silk.

“Didn’t my little honey want to see?” he said as he struggled to control himself, hold back from recklessly thrusting into her wet, cramping pussy a moment longer. He pushed her chin up with his index finger as he started pounding his cock into her with thrusts that shook her whole frame. Thrusts whose wet slaps filled their bedroom as the slick noises of her soaking pussy eagerly taking him made him hungry for more. Much more.

“Look up, doll.”

The horny greed in her gaze when they met in the mirror made him groan as his cock throbbed. She was perfect, and his. She fed the ravenous beast within him the way no one else did. No one else could. Not any more. Not ever.

“Scream -ngh - for me, honey,” he grunted as he strained into his pushes, groaning as he forcefully pulled himself up by his hook with long, deep thrusts that damn near made him see stars. She screamed for him then as she watched him wreck her, shattering her cries with his thrusts. And when she started cramping around him, his low cries joined hers as he spilled his load deep in her tight cunt.

Feeling his arm give way under him, he turned to fall on his side into the rumped sheets beside her, drawing her with him as he rode out his orgasm with languid thrusts. She turned her head up and they kissed as he reached under her top again. She made a delightfully hazy noise against his lips when he stroke her hard nipple.

The timid knock at the doorpost drew an irritated grunt from him that made her want to fuck him again.

It was Anthony, his gaze fixed firmly on the ceiling. He was holding something, a magazine by the look of it.

“What.” Crocodile grunted.

“The draft print came in, sir,” Anthony said as he held out the magazine, gaze never straying. “They will hit the shelves tomorrow, I was told. Unless, of course, you object.”

“Oh!” Shivs was up and rising so fast that he groaned when his cock slid from her tight pussy. He rolled unto his back and watched his cum leak down her thighs as she grabbed his dress shirt and shrugged it on while trotting to his secretary. He reached for the night stand without bothering to get up, flipping a cigar from the box laying atop of it.

“Thank you, Tony,” Shivs said as she accepted the magazine from him.

“No problem, ma’am,” Anthony said without meeting her gaze, keeping it diligently up. “If there is nothing else?”

“Absolutely nill,” Crocodile said as he sat up and lit the cigar, and his secretary quickly made himself scarce.

“Look what they put on the cover,” Shivs said, clearly delighted, as she came towards him, proudly showing that seasonal shot she’d loved so well she’d made him wreck her like that not five minutes ago.

“Seems you got your wish,” he huffed through a puff of smoke as he reached out to her with hook and hand. 

She chortled as she took hold of his hook and let him draw her into his lap. “This sensationalist line they added about seasonal fun at the casino makes it sound like we got a whole something here for select guests, haha.”

“No, no other reindeer,” he grumbled, making her laugh.

“Don’t you worry,” she said as she sat up to press a kiss against his lips, hand stroking across his lower stomach. “None could hope to compare.”

The molified noise he made in response made her smile as she curled up against him with the magazine. “It looks so pretty,” she said as she ran her fingers across the full colour pages.

“That’s because you’re in it,” he said as he looked at them from above her shoulder. The article was a little ways into the middle of the fashion magazine. Eleven pages of quality photographs and there wasn’t a single one they didn’t like. It was only when she paged back to the front that they noticed the envelope taped into the inner cover.

There was a note in it emblazoned with the Sphinxx calligraphy, and a stack of photographs.

‘It was a delight and honour to work with the both of you. These did not make the cut, but I dare say I’d be in trouble if I did away with them, wouldn’t I?

Con affetto, Masotti Stefano.'

The delight with which she went through the additional pictures made the creature coil inside him with a purr.

“Oh, but these came out nice too?” Shivs said as she held one up. 

It looked like a candid shot as they walked to their intended spot during the shoot in his office. He’d just taken a draw from his cigar, a fond glance shrouded in smoke as she tugged him along by his hook, glancing over her shoulder with a smile as radiant as the desert sun.

Crocodile plucked it from her fingers. “This one will sit in my office.”

“I want a bigger print of this one,” she said as she shielded another one from view. He tugged at her shoulder with his hook to see. It was one from the second location, outside, with the bananawani. On it, he sat in one of the cast iron deck chairs, the large animal and the sprawling Rainbase oasis behind him. She stood against his inner thigh, leaning into him as she held up a lighter so he could light his cigar. It was a good shot, except for the part where all of his everything was breaching containment from the frightfully complicated thong. 

“I am going to hang it at my table,” she declared as she held it against her chest.

“Absolutely not!” he objected, smoke escaping him as he tried to snatch it from her.

She dodged and laughed, rolling off his lap amid a flock of scattering photographs. Then jumped up, the incriminating picture held high in hand. “Maybe that'll keep 'em piped down!”

He tangled himself out of the blasted sheets, biting down on his cigar as he gave chase. 

“Get back here!”

🐊 🐊 🐊 

Robin basked in the bright, sunny morning as she sauntered down Rainbase’s boulevard with her bestie, Miguella. They’d gotten the largest, fanciest lattes they could find and she had put them on Crocodile’s tab. She’d be lying if she said it didn’t taste better for it.

“We could go to All Stars or Seven Palms tonight?” Miguella said as she stirred her straw through the whipcream of her latte.

“All Stars.” Robin let the latte’s creamy texture take over her thoughts for a moment. “They’ll know to find us in Seven Palms, we go there too often.”

“They’re mad at you?”

“I am mad at them.”

Robin scowled. It was always excessively embarrassing when they did something like this, even when it was just lame old suit brands. She didn’t need to hear from everyone and their dog how good they looked, how amazing they were, and how lucky she was. She hated it here. She’d run away if she actually had anywhere else she could go without being turned in on sight. 

It was strange, though, for they hadn’t even tried to curfew her the past weekend. Perhaps they felt bad and hadn’t gone through with it? That’d be a first.

As they sauntered down the boulevard, not all its souvenir and food stands had opened yet. And the lady at the corner kiosk was just dragging the ‘newly arrived’ stand outside.

And that’s where she saw it.

Rendered in glossy full-colour, proud as could be on the front of Fashion First. Them. How dare? Her on her stomach on one of the casino’s poker tables, wearing the skimpiest sexy-Santa skirt and top you could still put on a front cover without being delegated to the randy back corner of a 24/7 shop. And him, dressed up as a goddamn reindeer, leaning over her back in what couldn’t possibly be an accidental posing. They pretended to be engrossed by the cards she was holding, but Robin knew better. She could fucking tell from their stupid horny glances.

Standing there, in the sunny, quiet boulevard. She thought she might actually scream.

“Hey! Aren’t that your parents?” Miguella said, and had the gall to chortle about it.

“They are NOT my parents, and they are dead to me!” Robin screamed, and stormed off.

🐊 🐊 🐊

Horny hell seat reservations - @tiredemomama @smut-goblin @ruledbyproblematique @momodwriter @littlemountainwolf @fanaticsnail @feral-artistry - have a very merry Christmas with a shot of crocaine on the house.

[gothcsz]

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter X.

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: The aftermath of their heated hook up drives our MC into the arms of another man.

WORD COUNT: ~8.7k

RATING: 18+ Explicit topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: discussions of religion, javi being an asshole, angst, crime talk (if it's not accurate don't @ me), talk of violence against women, substance use (weed), slut shaming(?), jealous!javi, other things that I'm probably forgetting.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized.

A/N: getting down and dirty with the occult aspect of this intricate ass plotline, lol ! i took a lot of inspiration from some of my favorite horror movies (rosemary's baby, immaculate, the first omen) so if you're into that i def rec watching the movies listed! also javi why are you so bothered?! this is literally what you wanted idk what to tell u... as always feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or ao3. i'd really appreciate it <3

♰  read on ao3. ♰

♰  playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

Paloma feels the excruciating fallout with Javier for the next three days, confined to her bed as if shackled by her heartbreak. Unable to escape the anguish, she seeks refuge in her favorite movies, hoping their familiar narratives might provide a distraction.

She’s also been listening to Olivia Newton-John’s “Hopelessly Devoted to You” on repeat, finding solace in the familiar melody and heartfelt lyrics. Initially, the song’s sweet sorrow seemed to echo her own emotions perfectly, providing a cathartic release as she quietly sang along in the comfort of her sheets, lost in the melancholy tune.

However, by the twelfth listen, the song’s lamenting tones only deepened her sense of despair.

To avoid her father’s concern, she lies, claiming she got food poisoning from the party. He doesn’t question her, fulfilling his fatherly duties with unwavering dedication, bringing her medicine and even attempting to cook her a comforting meal; which says a lot considering he’s a shit cook.

Romeo’s care and concern provide a small comfort, and she doesn’t have to exert much effort to feign her illness. She genuinely feels sick to her stomach as memories of that fateful night with Javier replay in her mind incessantly; a relentless loop she can’t seem to escape.

What she despises most is the lingering evidence of their hook-up that still clings to her skin. The persistent bite mark on her shoulder serves as a stubborn reminder of their intimacy, refusing to fade like a scar upon her flesh. And though the throbbing ache between her legs has dulled somewhat, it’s still there like a faint echo of the pleasure he once bestowed upon her—a cruel reminder of what once was and what now lies shattered.

But none of this negates the venomous words he spat at her, each syllable dripping with malice. He had called her a whore, desperate, and accused her of giving it up for free. How could he? That question has been circulating in her mind for the entirety of these three agonizing days.

How could he say those things to her? Has Javier always been this much of an asshole, and had her rose-colored glasses blinded her to his true nature all this time? No, that couldn’t be it. Everyone adores him. The private, intimate moments they shared stand in stark contrast to the vicious side of him she witnessed at the party.

He played you, Paloma. Did all the right things, said all the right words until he got what he wanted. A spot between your legs. Now that he’s fucked you, you mean nothing to him.

This bitter realization gnaws at her, a relentless ache worse than any physical pain. She replays all their encounters in her mind, dissecting every word and gesture, searching for signs she might have missed. The warmth of his touch, the sweetness of his whispers, all now feel like part of an elaborate ruse.

He had seemed so genuine, so caring, but perhaps that was all part of his act. 

The thought that she was nothing more than a conquest to him is unbearable. She grapples with the harsh truth, feeling a mix of anger and self-loathing. How could she have been so blind? As she lies in bed, these questions torment her, turning her once cherished memories into a source of endless pain.

Tears well up in her eyes and she buries her face in her pillow, sobbing quietly as the overwhelming feeling of being used crashes over her. 

She hates this, hates him. Hates that he wields so much power over her. Javier Peña has found a way to break her completely, shattering her self-confidence and making her feel utterly worthless. All those times she fantasized about sleeping with him, imagining him as a worthy lover who would shower her with praises and kisses, making her feel like the Roman goddess Venus, now seem like cruel jokes.

Instead, she had let him take her against a gazebo. His whispered words a mix of seduction and degradation. At the time, those filthy whispers had ignited something primal deep within her, spurring her deeper into their heated passion. Yet now, in the cold light of reflection, those same words make her feel cheap. 

She had believed in his charm, convinced herself that their connection was special, that he saw her as more than just another one of his girls. But his cruel words and dismissive attitude revealed the painful truth. She feels like a fool for ever believing in him, for letting herself be swept away by his charisma. 

The phone rings but she ignores it since her father is still home so she just lets him handle it. 

She wishes her mother were here. She’s certain that she would know exactly what to say, providing the comfort and wisdom she desperately needs. She had always been a guiding light, someone who could soothe any hurt and offer perspective on even the most absurd situations. This heartbreak is more intense and consuming than anything she has ever endured romantically, including George’s abandonment.

In her mind, she can almost hear her mother’s voice, gentle yet firm, offering comfort and encouragement. She would remind her that her worth is not defined by the actions of others, that she deserves to be loved and cherished for who she is. She would tell Paloma that heartbreak is a part of life, a painful but necessary step towards finding true love and happiness.

A knock sounds at her bedroom door, but she doesn’t move, her face still buried in the soft cushion.

“Can I come in?” Her father’s voice filters through the wooden door. She sighs heavily, lifting herself from the pillow and wiping away stray tears.

“Y-Yeah.”

He enters the room hesitantly, taking in the scene. Her room is a mess, more so than its usual manageable chaos. The black dress she wore that night lies in a crumpled heap at the foot of her bed. He can see she has been crying—the puffiness of her eyes and the red tint on her nose give it away.

“Feelin’ any better, baby?” He asks tentatively, slowly making his way to her side of the bed. He sits down beside her, his presence a quiet comfort.

She shakes her head, laying back down and glancing up at her father. Worry is etched clearly in his eyes.

“Do I need to get you an appointment with Dr. Hughes? She’s not so busy nowadays.”

Daddy, the sickness I’m experiencing can’t be cured with medicine. It can only be cured by a certain someone with beautiful brown eyes and a cruel, unforgiving heart.

“No, I’ll be fine. I promise. It’s just a little stomach bug. I’ll get over it in no time.”

Romeo sighs softly, his hand moving to gently stroke her back. “Alright, little miss stomach bug. I’ll pick up some more medicine on my way back from work. Your friend Slo is on the line again. That’s why I came in here. Just had to check on ya first.”

She feels a pang of guilt. She’s been avoiding Sloane’s calls ever since the heartbreak took hold, too engulfed in her sorrow to face anyone but her father. It’s ironic, given how she often complains about how overbearing he can be, yet now finds comfort only in his presence.

Her father’s touch is warm and soothing, but it doesn’t erase the ache in her chest. She knows Sloane means well, but the thought of explaining her feelings, of reliving the pain with every word, is too much to bear. She nuzzles into her pillow, trying to hide from the world a little longer.

“Guess I should finally talk to her. Thanks, Daddy,” She murmurs, her voice muffled by the cushion.

Her father’s hand continues its gentle motion on her back, providing a rhythm that almost lulls her into a sense of temporary peace.

“You need anythin’, you call me, alright? I’ll be at the station all night. If ya can’t get ahold of me for whatever reason—call Javier.”

At the mention of his name, her breath catches in her throat, her body tensing involuntarily. She hopes her father doesn’t notice the visceral reaction that sweeps through her.

“O-okay,” she manages to choke out, her voice barely above a whisper.

A look of concern lingers in his eyes as he leans in to place a tender kiss to the side of her head.

As he gets up to leave, Paloma turns her head slightly, watching him. She wishes she could open up more, let him know just how deep her wounds go, but the words fail her. For now, she takes comfort in the fact that he’s there for her.

Now, guilt settles atop the heap of unwanted feelings that plague her. How could she ever bitch so much about her father, who has been nothing but supportive and caring toward her? Sure, his protectiveness sometimes feels suffocating, but deep down, she knows it stems from the earnestness of his heart. He just wants to ensure her safety and happiness, especially since she’s the only family he has left.

Once the door closes softly behind him, she lets out a shaky breath. The thought of reaching out to Javier, of exposing herself to the pain of his betrayal once again, fills her with a sense of dread. Yet, beneath the fear and uncertainty, there’s a small flicker of longing, a desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, he might backtrack on all he said and apologize to her— make things right between them.

But she buries that thought deep beneath the layers of hurt and anger that consume her. For now, she’ll remain cocooned in her solitude, grappling with the aftermath of his cruel words and callous actions, unsure of how—or if—she’ll ever find the strength to confront him again.

She shifts in bed, her hand reaching out to grasp the receiver from her bedside table, the plastic cool against her fingertips.

“Hello.”

“About fuckin’ time!” Sloane’s chirpy twang rings out, a sharp contrast to the heaviness in her heart. Surprisingly, the sound elicits a small smile, a flicker of warmth amidst her turmoil.

“Sorry— haven’t really been feelin’ like myself as of late.”

“I thought you died. Had half a mind to stop by your place, but your daddy assured me you were alive and well… well, not well. Heard you got sick. Need me to bring you anythin’?”

She takes a moment, gathering her thoughts before responding. “M’not really sick…” she begins, her words trailing off as she absentmindedly twists the cord attached to the receiver around her finger.

“Um… okay… you’re losin’ me here, doll face.”

And so she begins to unravel the tangled web of her conflict, spilling all the details to her best friend. She recounts every moment of her affair with Javier, from the innocent flirtations at the beginning to the raw intensity of their fight at the party three nights ago.

Each word spoke is a painful reminder of the betrayal she has endured. Yet, there’s a sense of relief in sharing her burden, of finally letting someone else into the depths of her pain.

Sloane reacts just as Paloma had anticipated, her familiar blend of humor and unwavering support providing a much-needed anchor in the storm of her current love life. As she pours out her heart, Slo interjects with witty jokes, each one a lifeline tossed into the turbulent sea of her despair. But amidst the laughter, her words carry a burden of truth, her fierce loyalty shining through in the advice she offers.

“You deserve so much better,” Sloane declares, her voice brimming with conviction. “Don’t matter if he’s got the best cock in the world—he should’ve never talked to you like that or treated you the way he did.”

She feels a fresh wave of tears threaten to spill over, the rawness of her words striking a chord deep in her wounded heart. She blinks them away quickly, refusing to shed another tear over him, determined to reclaim her strength and dignity.

“Yeah, I know,” she murmur, “I just want to get over it. Get over him.”

Sloane’s response is swift after a brief pause. “Your daddy workin’ tonight?”

“...Yes.”

“Perfect,” Slo declares, her tone brightening with mischief. “Me and Gabriel will come get you, and you can ride around with us… I can ask August to tag along if you want.”

She can’t help but smile at the teasing lilt in her friend’s voice. This is Sloane’s not-so-subtle way of playing wingwoman, a role she’s embraced since the moment they met. Despite the pain and heartache, she finds consolation in the unwavering support of her friend, grateful for the chance to escape her troubles, if only for a little while.

What’s the harm in inviting August along? After all, isn’t the saying that the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else? He’s already expressed his interest in her, sparked her curiosity and filled her mind with newfound knowledge that she still pores over during her shifts at the library.

August is smart, handsome, newly rich, and most importantly— he doesn’t treat her like she’s disposable. He sees her for who she truly is, beyond the physical, beyond anything else.

“Earth to Paloma? Hello?”

She snaps out of her thoughts, returning to the present conversation.

“Yeah, that sounds fun. Now I gotta get off my ass and take a shower,” she replies, a hint of self-deprecation in her voice as she realizes how much she’s let herself go during this bout of sadness.

“Alright, stinky girl, be there in like an hour,” Sloane teases, the warmth of her laughter echoing through the phone.

She chuckles softly before saying goodbye and hanging up, feeling a renewed sense of energy after the phone call. She throws off the duvet and rises from her bed, stretching her limbs as she hears a few satisfying pops.

She needs this. To go out, do something, feel like herself again.

After her much-needed and rejuvenating shower, she tidies up her room, the act of putting things in order helping to calm the chaos in her mind. With a sense of purpose, she bounces down the stairs, the anticipation of the evening ahead putting a spring in her step. She waits on the porch for her friends to arrive, the warm evening air wrapping around her like a comforting embrace.

She’s forced to forego her go-to halter top, opting instead for a simple t-shirt to hide Javier's unmistakable fucking mark. It’s a small sacrifice to make for the chance to reclaim a sense of normalcy, a reminder that she’s more than just a pawn in someone else’s game.

The distant headlights announce their arrival and her face breaks out into a wide grin as she stands.

“Hop into the back!” Sloane calls out from the passenger side window, her voice filled with cheerful enthusiasm as she leans out, beckoning her over. Without hesitation, she happily complies, her heart lifting at the prospect of spending time with her friends.

As the vehicle comes to a stop, the girls exchange kisses on the cheek in passing, a gesture of affection and camaraderie that feels like a balm to her soul. She climbs into the bed of the truck, where August awaits, his relaxed posture exuding a casual confidence. A joint dangles from his lips, the smoke swirling lazily in the summer night air, and she can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement at the sight of him.

“Hey, little dove,” He greets her, his voice warm and inviting. “Heard you were sick. Feelin’ any better?”

She settles beside him, the cool metal of the truck bed beneath her, and brings her knees up to her chest as she gazes up at him with soft, grateful eyes.

“A lot better now,” she confesses, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She’s determined to throw herself into whatever this is, to embrace the warmth and companionship offered by her friends, if only to keep herself from sinking back into the depths of despair that have haunted her for the past few nights.

He smiles at her, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he blows out a plume of smoke, the truck beginning its descent down the elongated driveway. “Good. So I guess you’re up for that date. Finally,” he remarks, extending the joint towards her.

She hesitates, her mind momentarily grappling with the decision. She’s recently taken on a vow to swear off drugs and alcohol, a decision prompted by Javier’s disappointment when he picked her up at the sunflower field. But now, with August’s expectant gaze upon her, she wonders if maintaining that vow is worth it.

“I dunno— you gonna ditch me halfway through it?” she quips, accepting the joint from him and bringing it to her lips, her resolve wavering.

August watches intently, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Sorry about that, pretty girl. Some of the guys got into it and I had to go deal with that shit. Being the so-called leader ain’t all sunshine and rainbows.”

She exhales slowly, the smoke billowing around her before dissipating into the air. She passes the joint back to him, a small smile playing on her lips as she recalls their interrupted plans.

The truck hits a pothole, causing Paloma to clumsily stumble into August’s side with a small yelp of surprise. They share a moment of laughter as August throws his arm over her shoulders, drawing her close.

“Fine, I guess I’ll let it slide… but don’t ditch me like that again. The whole thing got busted by the cops, and I was this close to goin’ to jail,” she exaggerates, her tone tinged with mock indignation as she leans further into August’s embrace. The darkness of the backroads envelops them as they continue their leisurely drive through the quiet town.

“Nah, they wouldn’t have laid a finger on you, baby. You’re the sheriff’s daughter—practically immune to everythin’,” August reassures her, his voice carrying a hint of confidence.

He’s right and they both know it. Paloma’s status as the sheriff’s daughter affords her a certain level of protection, a shield against the consequences that ordinary citizens might face. If she had been caught by her father or any of his deputies, they wouldn’t have pressed charges. At most, she would have received a stern lecture.

She tries to knock thoughts of Javier aside, but they stubbornly persist, creeping into her mind like shadows in the night. She can’t help but recall the way Javier had taken care of her, buying her food and opening up about his romantic past. She remembers how he had held her close when the snake brushed up against her leg, how he had hidden them in the shadows when her father awoke in the midst of her sneaking back in.

And she remembers, vividly, how he had kissed her back.

Fuck him, she thinks bitterly, pushing the memories away with a forceful mental shove.

“Not everythin’… just enough,” She quips, a giggle bubbling up her throat as she takes the joint from August once more. This time, she inhales deeply, allowing the smoke to fill her lungs, a fleeting distraction from the tangled mess she's involved in.

The four of them spend the remainder of the night weaving through the darkened streets, their laughter and chatter filling the air as they embark on their impromptu adventure. They stop here and there, finding amusement in open fields or exploring the eerie confines of the town’s abandoned buildings. She feels a sense of exhilaration coursing through her veins, her broken heart mending as she loses herself in the company of her friends. High as hell, she revels in the freedom of the moment, carefree and unburdened by the troubles that had plagued her earlier.

As the night wears on, they find themselves at the graveyard, the moon casting an ethereal glow over the rows of weathered headstones. Amidst the quiet stillness of the night, they swap ghost stories, each tale more outlandish than the last. Despite their best efforts to spook each other, the atmosphere is more comical than terrifying, the shared laughter echoing through the darkness.

“We’re all hangin’ out at the creek tomorrow. You should come with,” Slo suggests, reclining on her back in the patch of grass between two gravestones.

“Can’t. I work at the library all day,” She responds, a hint of regret coloring her voice.

“So? Call out. It’s not like they need you there,” Slo counters, her tone brimming with nonchalance.

She bites her lip, her hesitation evident. “I’ve already been out this week due to ‘being sick’. Olsen relies on me. I’m surprised that place hasn’t gone up in flames.”

“Oh, don’t be lame. Just call in sick again,” Slo urges, dismissing Paloma’s concerns with a wave of her hand.

“And when someone sees me takin’ my happy ass down to the creek—what then?”

“No one worth hiding from goes there anyways.”

“Okay, and what about my daddy?”

“Ugh, you and your daddy issues. Swear I ain’t ever met anyone with a good father figure have the issues that you do,” Slo remarks, her tone bordering on exasperation.

“Fuck off.”

“Let Slo be your cover. Tell him you two are hangin’ out for the day now that you’re feelin’ better. S’not a complete lie. C’mon, little dove, it’s summertime. We’re supposed to be enjoyin’ it,” August interjects, his voice calm and reassuring amidst the back and forth between her and Sloane.

Her mind whirls with differing thoughts as she weighs their offer. It’s not the worst thing she could do, she rationalizes, and it’s certainly harmless. After all, she had only promised Olsen that she’d let him know whether or not she could work the shift the following morning; there’s no outright commitment binding her to the library.

Moreover, she considers her father’s perspective. He’d likely prefer her to be out with Slo, especially now that she’s in higher spirits.

With a sigh, she nods, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips as she agrees. “Fine,” she says, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. “I guess I can make some time to go out there with y’all.”

Their cheers ring out, a chorus of excitement that lifts her spirits even higher. As she looks around at her friends, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight, she realizes that, in this moment, she’s exactly where she’s meant to be.

Javier leans back in his chair, exhaustion weighing heavy on his eyelids as he drifts in and out of sleep. The sterile hum of the overhead lights provides a steady backdrop, a monotonous rhythm that lulls him into a drowsy stupor.

True to his word, he’s wholeheartedly been focusing on the cases, his attention shifting from the victims  to the enigmatic symbol that Jessica Valdez had ingested. It’s become an obsession of sorts, his starting point in a labyrinth of clues that he hopes will lead to justice.

To aid in his investigation, Javier reached out to some of the acquaintances he made during his time in Quantico, specifically those who were involved in the infamous Tate–LaBianca murders and the occult subculture that gripped the west coast in the late ‘60s. They possessed a wealth of knowledge about the inner workings of occult groups, their insights invaluable in deciphering the tangled web of motives and allegiances.

After catching up with them over the phone, they promised to connect him with an occult professor at UCLA who could potentially shed light on the mysterious symbol. It’s a glimmer of hope in the darkness, a chance to glean some semblance of understanding from the chaos that lurks over these cases.

The clock is ticking, and with each passing day, the trail grows colder. He isn’t sure if they’re dealing with a lone individual or a larger organization, but he’s determined to leave no stone unturned in his pursuit of the truth.

“Jesus— you’re still here?” Romeo’s voice breaks through the quiet of the office, his tired eyes glancing down at the silver watch adorning his wrist. It’s almost midnight, and yet Javier remains steadfast at his desk, his presence a testament to his dedication.

Javier sits up, rolling his shoulders back with a quiet groan as he reaches for his pack of cigarettes. With practiced ease, he goes through the motions of lighting one, the smoke curling lazily around him.

“Waiting on a call from someone in California. They’re taking their fucking time, though,” He explains, frustration evident in his tone. He should have just given them his home number, he thinks, where he could lounge around in his own space instead of camping out here in the office.

“California? Got a west coast girl I don’t know about?” Romeo teases, his lips quirking up in a knowing smile as he approaches the counter where the coffee maker sits, beginning to make himself a cup.

Javier snorts, exhaling smoke as he shakes his head. “No, just a professor that I’m hoping will give me more information about that tattoo on the scrap of flesh.” His thoughts briefly flicker to Paloma at the mention of having a girl, but the thought diminishes as fast as it came— he can’t let himself think about her for too long.

Since the mayor’s party, Javier has made a conscious effort to rid his mind of anything concerning her. It’s been a challenge, to say the least, since he could still feel the way she had clenched around him when she came undone on his cock; soaking him with her release and letting out the prettiest moans he’s ever heard.

He could also still vividly recall the pain etched across her face, the tears streaming down her cheeks in response to his brutal words. The memory clear as day in his conscience, a constant reminder of the hurt he had caused.

But Javier refuses to dwell on it. Instead, he threw himself into anything and everything that would serve as a distraction. He busied himself in the minutiae of each case with a dedicated fervor. When work became too much, he sought solace in physical exertion, pushing himself to the limit in grueling workouts that left him physically spent but mentally numb.

Yet despite his best efforts, her memory continues to haunt him, a specter that lingered at the edges of his consciousness. It has only been three days since their encounter, but to Javier, it feels like an eternity. Each passing moment seemed to stretch on indefinitely, his actions bearing down on him with suffocating intensity.

“I see, good thinkin’ Peña. This shit just keeps on gettin’ more and more convoluted. Been thinkin’ of enforcin’ a curfew but that’s only gonna spark more fear and unnecessary rumors. Ain’t got a damn clue how to keep this shit from happenin’ again. Need to at least make an announcement warnin’ all the young girls ‘round here,” Romeo muses, his frustration evident in the furrow of his brow.

Javier nods thoughtfully, ashing his cigarette against the overfilled ashtray before leaning back in his chair, the uncomfortable leather creaking beneath him. “Don’t think a curfew is going to do much like you said. It’s just gonna rattle these folks up. We have consistent victimology now. I’m not against spreading the word and raising awareness. Could give the gazette a statement—have ‘em print it on the front page.”

The two men engage in a spirited exchange of ideas, each offering insights and perspectives born from years of experience in law enforcement. Romeo, ever the pragmatic thinker, voices his concerns while Javier, with his keen analytical mind, suggests alternative approaches. Despite the weight of the situation, there’s a sense of camaraderie between them, a shared determination to tackle the challenges head-on.

Romeo places a steaming mug of coffee at Javier’s desk. The gesture is small, but it speaks volumes about the bond between them, forged through countless late nights and shared struggles. With caffeine-fueled determination, Javier braces himself to stay up longer in anticipation of the phone call with the professor.

“Gotta stop by the pharmacy before I leave in the mornin’. Paloma’s been sick as a dog these past few days,” Romeo announces with a hint of concern.

Javier’s grip on the mug tightens imperceptibly at the mention of her name, a flicker of discomfort crossing his features before he schools his expression into one of casual indifference. He can’t afford to let his true feelings show, not when the sheriff is watching him like a hawk.

It’s not like I fucked her good and hard in the middle of the party then completely shattered her afterwards. 

“She okay?” Javier inquires, his tone carefully neutral.

Romeo lets out a heavy sigh as he settles into the corner of Javier’s desk, weariness etched into the lines of his face. “I honestly don’t know. Said she got food poisonin’ from the party, but we both ate the same things and m’perfectly fine. When I went to check on her today, it was clear that she’d been crying. I even offered to take her to the doctor, but she brushed me off. Hasn’t left her bed in three days. Should see the state of her room—s’like a fuckin’ tornado tore right through it.”

Javier finishes his cigarette in silence, the familiar and  bitter taste of regret lingering on his tongue. The image of her bedridden and in tears plagues his conscience, a painful reminder of the havoc he’s wrought. This is what he wanted, isn’t it? To hurt her so profoundly that she would finally break free from him. It’s the only way to definitively end their affair, but the realization offers little support amidst the guilt that gnaws at his insides.

“I’m sure she’s fine. Give her a few days to recover,” Javier offers, his tone carefully measured to convey a semblance of concern.

As if on cue, the phone rings, the shrill sound piercing the quiet of the office. Romeo takes it as his cue to leave, offering a nod of acknowledgment to Javier before disappearing back into his own office.

Javier reaches for the receiver, bringing the phone to his ear and he hears the smooth voice of a woman on the other end.

“Agent Peña, this is Dr. Vivianne Serrano. I apologize for calling so late. My last class ran a little late and then I had a meeting with a student afterwards. You’re in Texas so it’s what—almost midnight? Gosh, I feel terrible,” the woman rambles earnestly.

He rubs at his tired eyes, the strain of exhaustion evident in every movement. His jaw clenches as he scratches at his roughening jawline, ready to get this over with. And yet, despite his weariness, the sound of her sweet voice on the other end of the line draws him in, offering a strange sense of comfort amidst the drama. It must be the exhaustion, he tells himself.

“No worries. I’m more interested in what information you can give me— even if I have to stay up late to get it.”

She laughs, the sound light and melodic, and for some inexplicable reason, a small smile quirks at the corners of his lips in response.

“Right—one of the agents faxed me the photo evidence. It’s pretty brutal. I didn’t recognize the marking at first, but I did some digging and that led me to reach out to a colleague in Rome.”

Javier’s brow furrows at the revelation, his interest piqued by the mention of the city overseas. “Rome?”

“Yes, Rome,” she confirms, “I hope you’re sitting down because I have quite a bit of information to relay to you.”

Spurred on by the prospect of finally making some progress, Javier leans forward in his chair, his eyes intent on the empty page of his memo pad as he waits for her to continue.

As her voice fills the line, painting a picture of a dark and sinister history, Javier’s hand moves almost automatically, his pen poised to capture every word she utters.

“L’Ordine di Eurinomo— The Order of Eurynomos, was a sacrilegious group that masked itself as a Catholic convent in Rome during the 70s,” She begins, her tone grave with solemnity. “This group worshiped the mysterious deity Eurynomos, a flesh-eating demon, prophesying the return of their god in human form. Their quest for a suitable vessel led them to seek out a woman of purity and strength, intertwining her fate with their divine ambitions. They believed that the flesh reincarnation of the deity would bring a new age of power and world domination.”

Javier’s pen halts in its tracks, his brows furrowing in disbelief as he processes the fantastical information unfolding before him. It all sounds too surreal to be true, like the plot of some twisted horror movie or fictional novel. He fights the urge to scoff, reminding himself to maintain his professionalism even in the face of such outlandish claims.

“I know. It’s a lot to take in. Believe it or not, it’s not the craziest thing out there,” Dr. Serrano continues, her voice steady despite the incredulity in Javier’s silence. “They searched for this suitor all over the world, inviting devoted women to their convent. When these women failed to give them what they wanted, their prophesied baby, they were killed. It wasn’t until they had a whistleblower that their atrocities were exposed—an anonymous tip that led authorities to the convent and uncovered everything. No identifying names of any members, just files detailing the women they had taken over the years and records of their rituals. The tattooed symbol was their symbol.”

He lets out a heavy sigh, the intensity of the information taking a moment to process. His hand instinctively rises to massage his tense shoulder, fingers digging into the knotted muscles in an attempt to alleviate some of the tension.

“No arrests were ever made, and the case went cold. So many bodies were pulled from the catacombs beneath the church. None of them identified. All women,” She explains, “That’s as far as it all goes. There hasn’t ever been an indication that this group kept operating after... well, not until now. Where did you say you were located?”

“Seminary, Texas,” he replies, the name of the town feeling heavy on his tongue as he considers the implications of Dr. Serrano’s revelations. “You sure this isn’t just some obsessed person who read about this damn group and decided to indulge in the fantasy too?”

“Could be. Isn’t it your job to figure that out?” Dr. Serrano’s response carries a flirtatious undertone, a playful tease that momentarily distracts Javier from the gravity of their conversation. If he hadn’t been so consumed by the web of information and conflicting emotions surrounding a certain someone else, he might have reciprocated the flirtation without hesitation.

“Suppose it is. Thanks for digging around and finding this out for me,” Javier acknowledges with genuine gratitude for the professor’s efforts.

“No problem. It was quite interesting getting this information. I’ll have my colleague in Rome send you all that they have on this. Is there a time limit on this case? I don’t anticipate you receiving the files for a hot minute,” She inquires, her voice carrying a hint of curiosity.

Javier considers her question for a moment, his mind already racing with the possibilities presented by the newfound information. “Not necessarily, but the quicker I figure this shit out, the quicker we can get some answers and bring justice to the victims and their families,” he replies, his determination evident in his tone. He longs to put an end to the suffering and finally bring closure to those affected.

“That’s all that matters. We’ll be in contact, Agent Peña. Again, I apologize for calling so late. Have a great night,” she concludes, her words soft with a sense of finality.

Javier hangs up the phone, the conversation lingering in the air around him. Despite the late hour and the exhaustion hanging over him, there’s a restless energy coursing through him.

As he sits alone in the dimly lit office, his thoughts drift briefly to Dr. Serrano and the fleeting temptation to ask for her personal number. But he quickly dismisses the notion, refocusing his attention on the task at hand. There’s work to be done, and distractions— no matter how enticing— will have to wait.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” Paloma comments as she rides along with Gabriel, the engine of the truck humming steadily beneath them as they make their way to the local convenience store. They’ve been tasked with buying some more beer for the gathering at the creek, and she finds herself curious about her companion.

Gabriel glances at her, his expression unreadable. “Don’t got a lot to say,” he replies simply, his attention returning to the road ahead as he maneuvers the vehicle into a parking spot at the gas station.

She sighs inwardly, feeling a pang of disappointment at the lack of conversation. She had hoped to get to know Gabriel better considering how close he is to both Sloane and August. However, she understands that not everyone is as forthcoming with their friendship as she is.

Exiting the truck, Paloma shields her face from the afternoon sun, the warmth enveloping her like a comforting embrace. Dressed in a tube top and tight shorts, she feels the heat seeping into her skin deliciously, momentarily distracting her from the lingering discomfort of the bite mark. She had fabricated a story about its origins when they picked her up earlier, claiming it was from a hookup with a random guy at the bar.

It’s not entirely a lie, she reflects, knowing that Sloane is the only one to know the truth about the bite’s origin. However, she’s not eager to divulge the details of her… encounter with the deputy sheriff to her new friend group.

As she strolls through the aisles of the small convenience store, Gabriel excuses himself to take a piss, leaving her to browse alone. She runs her fingers over the various snacks and drinks on display, considering her options for something to bring back with her.

The soft chime of the bell above the door draws her attention, signaling the arrival of a new customer. Without looking up, she continues her perusal until she senses a shift in the air—a subtle change that prompts her to glance in the direction of the entrance.

There, standing in the doorway, is Javier Peña, the star of her all her current struggles. Despite her internal turmoil, she can’t help but be drawn in by his presence. His shirt is unbuttoned at the top (like always) revealing a hint of skin adorned with a glinting gold chain. Aviator sunglasses rest effortlessly on the bridge of his nose, his hair is tousled yet impeccably styled, and his choice of jeans and boots only serves to enhance his rugged allure.

She knows what he feels like inside of her. How big he is. How good he can fuck.

Her heart quickens at the sight of him. Despite the anger and resentment she feels towards him, there’s an undeniable attraction that pulses within her. She quickly averts her gaze, hoping to avoid detection.

To no avail since he noticed her the second he stepped in.

Her eyes drift downward, her focus settling on the colorful array of snacks that line the aisle. She tries to steady her breathing, to maintain an air of composure as Javier traverses the aisle opposite hers. Despite their deliberate avoidance of each other’s gaze, the palpable awareness of their proximity remains in the air.

A subtle smirk plays at the corners of Javier’s lips as he observes her. The flimsy top stretches obscenely over the swell of her tits, her nipples stiff due to the chilly air of the store. Though his gaze fixates on the tousled locks cascading over her shoulder, revealing the evidence of when they fucked. The memory paired with this tantalizing visual stir something in his chest, despite his attempts to remain aloof.

“Don’t look very sick to me,” he remarks casually, his voice cutting through the tense silence between them.

Paloma’s eyes shoot up to meet his, a mixture of frustration and defiance flickering in her gaze. She bristles at his audacity, the resentment bubbling beneath the surface threatening to spill over.

Of course her father had told him about her being sick. Of-fucking-course.

“None of your damn business,” she retorts sharply, her words laced with an edge as she maneuvers away from him, putting distance between them.

Javier merely shrugs in response, feigning casual indifference as he continues to peruse the shelves, his nonchalant facade belying the underlying tension that simmers beneath the surface.

“Got your pops stressin’ the hell out at the station over you being a bedridden mess yet here you are… out and barely clothed. S’not enough to distract me from the job so you had to pull a stunt for your father, too. Are you really that desperate for attention?” 

Every fiber of his being screams for him to let go, to relinquish his hold on the frayed threads of their tumultuous relationship and pretend she doesn’t even exist. Yet, the magnetic pull of their shared history, both bitter and sweet, proves to be an irresistible force.

Javier’s words hit with calculated precision, each syllable laden with a mixture of accusation and disdain. Paloma’s jaw clenches in response, a surge of anger coursing through her as she struggles to contain the torrent of emotion that threatens to engulf her.

The audacity of his presumption— that her actions are merely a ploy for attention— stings like a slap to the face. It’s infuriating the way he casually reduces her actions to nothing more than a petty cry for validation.

For a fleeting moment, a pang of concern flits through her mind, a gnawing worry that he might disclose her whereabouts to her father. But the prospect of facing her father’s wrath pales in comparison to the seething resentment she harbors towards Javier.

“Why the hell do you care about what I’m doing?” she fires back, her voice dripping with hostility. “You made it crystal fuckin’ clear where we stand. I want nothin’ to do with you.”

As Gabriel emerges from the bathroom, the tension between them persists. She shoots a pointed glare at Javier before sidling up to the guy she came here with, her movements deliberate as they proceed to gather the items they came here for.

His eyes follow them the entire time, that pesky jealousy rising up his throat like hot bile. It doesn’t help that she’s got on the thinnest pair of shorts, and she’s clearly not wearing underwear as her ass bounces with each step she takes. If she bent over just slightly, he’d be able to see the outline of her cunt.

She’s such a fucking tease— and now she’s out and about with Gabriel? Is August out of the picture too? Had he hurt her the same way Javier had?

Together, Paloma and Gabe make their way to the register, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken animosity. She remains acutely aware of Javier’s presence, the weight of his gaze lingering on her like an oppressive force as they conclude their errand and leave the small store.

She doesn’t even bother looking in his direction again.

As Javier strolls to the counter, the hum of the convenience store provides a backdrop to his turbulent thoughts. His gaze drifts to the window, where her departure sends a pang of longing coursing through him.

The urge to follow her tugs at him, an instinctual reaction fueled by envy and skepticism. But he forces himself to resist, recognizing the folly of succumbing to base impulses driven by sentiments he can scarcely afford to indulge.

His thoughts drift to the enigmatic group of youths led by August. There’s a nagging suspicion that refuses to be ignored, a sense that their presence in Seminary may be more than mere coincidence.

With a determined set to his jaw, Javier resolves to tail August and his cohorts, his instincts sharpened by the unsettling convergence of events. Yet, even as he prepares to pursue this lead, a lingering doubt nags at the edges of his consciousness.

Two things can be completely true yet unrelated at the same time.

Is he allowing his personal biases to cloud his judgment, grasping at straws in a desperate bid for answers? Or is there truly a connection waiting to be uncovered, hidden beneath the surface of the cryptic symbols and stories that haunt his investigation?

He takes his cigarettes from the clerk after paying, stepping outside to make quick use of one. The acrid smoke curls upwards in lazy tendrils and he finds himself grappling with the uncertainty that looms on the horizon. With each step forward, he plunges deeper into the murky depths of the unknown, unsure of what revelations await him in the shadows.

Paloma’s laughter dances through the warm afternoon air, a melody of joy that mingles with the gentle burble of the creek and the distant hum of cicadas. With a mischievous glint in her eye, she creeps up behind August, water sloshing playfully in her hands as she readies herself for the perfect sneak attack.

In one swift motion, she douses him with a cascade of cool water, a triumphant grin spreading across her face as she revels in her victorious prank. But her victory is short-lived as August retaliates with equal fervor, lunging forward to catch her before she can dart away.

Their laughter intertwines, a symphony of shared amusement that echoes off the surrounding trees, punctuated by the playful splashes of their impromptu water fight. The carefree atmosphere of the creek is a sanctuary of youthful exuberance where worries and troubles are cast aside in favor of simple, unadulterated joy.

As August pulls her close, her heart dances with exhilaration, her cheeks flushed with the thrill of their playful antics and she throws her arms around his neck.

“You’ve got the prettiest laugh I’ve ever heard, baby. Can’t get enough of it.”

His words, whispered against her ear, are a sweet melody that sends her heart aflutter, filling her with a warmth that eclipses the summer sun.

“Then don’t stop makin’ me laugh.”

His hands fall on her waist and she craves for him to move lower, to cup her backside in his big hands.

“I won’t. I’m finally free to take you out Friday. Still got time for little ‘ol me or has this bar hookup already swept you off your feet?” August’s playful words carry a hint of teasing as he gazes at her shoulder, his expression inscrutable.

She feels a brief pang of irritation at the mention of Javier (though August doesn’t know), the man who seems to hover over her thoughts like an unwelcome specter. 

As if. He wants nothing to do with me except to chastise me any chance he gets.

“You tell me… whose arms am I in right now?”

His response is a charming smile, loving how she replied. His fingers tighten ever so slightly around her hips as if to reassure himself of her presence. “Friday night I’m taking you out on that date I’ve been promisin’,” he declares with a hint of excitement, his gaze locking with hers.

But her smile wavers at the realization. “I have a show Friday night…” she starts, a note of disappointment creeping into her voice.

August’s response is immediate. “So cancel it,” he suggests, his tone firm yet persuasive, his hands beginning to explore her body in ways that send shivers down her spine.

Paloma’s initial resistance melts away, “First you have me call out of work, now you have me canceling my shows?” she counters with a playful shake of her head, though her heart races at the thought of spending a night with him. “You’re a bad influence, Dixon.”

But August’s response is smooth and reassuring, his voice a seductive murmur that sets her pulse racing. “Oh, don’t be like that, little dove. You perform every weekend. Just take one night off, I promise to make it worth your while,” he murmurs, his hands now moving lower and gripping her ass how she had just been wanting him to.

She lets out a gentle hum, pressing herself closer to him as her eyes darken with lust and intrigue. 

“Mmm okay, I’ll cancel.” Her eyes drop to his lips as the overwhelming urge to kiss him washes over her.

Sensing this, he tilts his head down, brushing his nose against hers. Feeling his warm breath against her skin, she shivers slightly, her heart racing at his proximity. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, the praise having her pussy clench around nothing, sending a flutter through her chest, and she can’t help but lean into his touch, savoring the tender moment between them.

As he leans in to place a kiss on her cheek, she turns her head, her lips meeting his in their first, official kiss. She melts into the embrace, her senses overwhelmed by the sensation of his lips moving against hers.

Lost in the moment, she revels in the feeling of his fuller lips. She pulls him closer and one of his hands comes up to grope at her breast, her sensitive nipples reacting to his touch.

“Hey lovebirds, get a room!” Their moment of intimacy is interrupted by a raucous call from nearby, accompanied by laughter and crude remarks. Blushing furiously, she pulls away, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Sorry, got lost in the moment,” she mumbles, feeling a rush of self-consciousness.

“Don’t apologize, darlin’,” August reassures her, his voice warm and affectionate. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.” With a gentle squeeze of her backside, he pulls back and takes her hand, leading her towards the deeper side of the creek.

As they wade through the cool water together, Paloma can’t help but feel a sense of excitement. She knows that this date with August is just the beginning of something special.

[thewertsearch]

Asks Compilation 20/11 - 1

Young Pupa flies through the window of a fairy girl's respiteblock, falls on the floor, and has trouble getting up like an enormous pansy. The fairy girl then helps him walk again, and in return, he teaches her to fly, even though she probably already knows how to fly. Because she's a fairy. They fly out of her window together, and have magical adventures for many sweeps thereafter. To be honest, you hardly know a damn thing about Pupa Pan. But you do not care.

This is true. Even Vriska seems aware that she's misunderstanding the story - note that she herself points out the contradiction inherent in teaching a fairy to fly.

I guess it's possible that in Pupa Pan, the characters of Wendy and Tinkerbell have been combined - but it's much more likely that Vriska just doesn't give a shit about the lore, since she literally tells us that's the case.

I basically agree with your core point. I think Vriska really does believe that this training will make Tavros stronger. I also believe that she genuinely wants to help him grow.

...but I also think she's fully aware that it's cruel, and is enjoying tormenting him.

I'd need to see a lot more evidence before I'm willing to accept that Vriska actually likes Tavros in any sort of genuine or positive way. It feels much more like black romance to me.

[ This was all around page 2383 - C ]

Vriska loses a lot of points for what she considered doing to Tavros - but she didn't go through with it, and that doesn't mean nothing.

As I said at the time - there are some things even Vriska won't do. Why she considered it, and why she stopped, are complicated questions, and I think I'll be going back to this moment later in her arc.

Yeah, it really implies a lot about blue-bloods, and none of it is good. I know I'm a broken record at this point, but Alternia is absurdly fucked-up.

Jury's out. I think they're mostly human, since Nanna seems had a child with a non-Player - but then again, Dad could have been adopted. Who knows?

I think they'd start with toilets, and then move to progressively heavier and heavier objects, in order to test the limits of the Sburb cursor.

If it packs enough force to toss a bathtub around, what else can it do?

Haha, nice catch.

Let's say 'SS Tier' isn't a tier at all - it's a flag I apply to a single character, designating them as my current favorite. The hypothetical S+, however, would be an actual tier.

I've never seen it! That does explain what the fuck is going on here, though. I thought this might be an in-universe troll celebrity that Tavros idolized.

I'm lucky enough never to have known this type of person - although Vriska's personality does remind me of more than one middle manager I've encountered professionally.

To be honest, it's hard to tell which trolls canonically have disabilities, and which ones Karkat is just being a prick to.

I don't, to my knowledge, have any of the disabilities depicted in the comic, so I don't have much valuable insight to contribute. Hopefully we get an ADHD troll soon?

Hey, good point!

Although, I'm not sure if there's any hard evidence that the troll meteors didn't land in the brooding caverns. I guess the fact that the caverns are underground might present a problem, but the meteors could have fallen into crevices. Sgrub could totally make it happen.

Aradia, for sure - but her metal body would just make it explode.

This particular accidental reference has always been a pretty hard sell for me. Does anyone know for sure whether Hussie had heard about Lord British before the 'glitches' page?

Wait, why apples?

Oh, ok, that makes sense. It was his second ever message!

That's honestly such a cool title. - The WERT blogger.

I like it. I never considered that the positioning of the Kingdoms relative to the rest of the session would be a factor in the outcome of the war, but it makes perfect sense.

When you actually think about it, Derse could win the war on day one simply by annexing the Veil, preventing Prospit from cloning reinforcements. I guess that wouldn't be sporting, though.

This is true. We don't have the computational resources to solve chess - and there's a good chance we never will.

Interestingly, though, chess probably could be solved in the Homestuck universe, via the leveraging of computational resources from alternate timelines.

[rodolfoparras]

Oh he definitely had it coming after all the shit he's said and done. I am currently working at a grocery store doing inventory/stock part time, though I'm definitely not staying long as the work is very difficult on my legs. (I have chronic pain) though luckily I am allowed to sit on the step stool, the manager doesn't mind. Just a temporary in between job, I'm looking for one that allows me to sit more during work :>

Mylah also was in a chemical blast, hence the lightning marks along his body - haven't 100% decided on what but he did get some powers from it, not really any good ones tho

Pascal has settled for a fluffy brown cat that kinda looks like a bear cub if you squint? She travels with him, usually laying on Geralts shoulders no matter how many times he takes her off😭 He's her little cat tree.

I didn't know that about foxes, actually! I would happily adopt those poor babies if I could, poor things💔 It reminds me of pigeons, how we domesticated and made them so dependent on us, then just abandoned them💔 I would love to have one but I definitely can not afford such a thing.

-cherry/sunny

Ah I hope you find a job that’s much kinder to your body soon but I’m also happy you have something to support you in the moment! It’s not the easiest thing getting a job right now unfortunately and the economy is scary but I’m sending you all the magic dust so you land a stellar role🫶🏻

I absolutely love the marks!!! At first I thought they were stretch marks but lighting marks sound just as neat! And bad power as in inconvenient or bad as in evil? I think the first one would be a fun trope!

All I hear is portable cat tree!! A very fancy and very necessary invention if you ask me!!

Yes!! What we did to pigeons is so cruel!! Every time I see the attempt to make nests my heart breaks they genuinely do not know how to be birds and idk it makes me mad? That we humans get the privilege to live on this earth and all we’ve done is ruin it so many creatures have existed before and they’ve kept everything in tact but we got a developed brain and hands and ruined sm

[ankhisms]

disclaimer im fine i just need to try and word various feelings and such pay no mind to the io who is trying to hold faer mental health together

i think the older i get and the more i desperately try to get better or at least be as healthy as i can reasonably expect to be with my various physical and mental issues the more it becomes clear to me... just how much a life time of being abused has altered my brain and tainted how i view myself. and i was obviously aware of this to a certain extent i am often painfully reminded of how much being abused and traumatized over and over throughout my life from a very young age has shaped me and how there are some things i may never fully heal from but will instead carry with me and have to live with. but recently its been jarring for me to like. be faced with it in a different way? where the environment in this theater production im in currently is actually overall very positive! i still often feel awkward where everyone is already good friends and knows one another from past productions but at the same time everyone is nice and friendly and no one is being nasty or weird to me like in the production i was in last year.

and our director and assistant director and the rest of the crew are really really sweet and encouraging and skilled people, i feel really thankful to be working with our director especially shes such a good actor along with being a good director and i value her input on things. which is why it makes it jarring to be given compliments by her and the other crew members and to be told that im a good actor and that im doing a good job. im so used to abuse from authority figures and so used to being told that im a worthless piece of shit etc etc that it comes as a shock when an authority figure in my life is actually kind to me.

and its been like. ive been having to step back and like. re examine just how badly i view myself. i have zero self esteem and zero confidence in myself, i speak very cruelly to myself and generally see myself as being a failure and other things like that, all of this is because ive been told that im a failure and disgusting ugly worthless stupid etc etc from both authority figures, my peers in school, my abuser, and my father throughout my entire life so ive internalized that and its almost impossible for me to break from thinking of myself in anything but that kind of light. but now ive been having to go. ok. i really respect this person who is telling me that im genuinely good at something. i want to believe them. i want to be good at what im doing. so this challenges the view of myself that ive been told is true for my entire life. i keep just going wait so am i not disgusting good for nothing ugly stupid worthless cant do anything right failure etc etc? and it shouldnt be so shocking that the things my abuser and the other people who have hurt and traumatized me have told me are wrong, but ive lived for so long thinking that all these things theyve said to me or said about me must be true. so again its really jarring to just be like. maybe all the awful things ive been told about myself were just very cruel people being cruel to me and not necessarily true.

but also at the same time i certainly dont think that those things being not true somehow makes me ~special~ i really dont think its possible for me to view myself as special or anything like that bc my view of myself is so low and negative and also bc i always want to be remembering other people and valuing everyone else yknow but its like. weird and strange for me to be realizing that maybe i dont suck as much as ive always been told and always believe. and maybe im not some horrible disgusting monster destined to be alone and abused forever, maybe im just a person. maybe im just a person who has been hurt a lot

but i also have to grapple with the fact that it is both true that 1. maybe im not inherently bad and maybe not everyone hates my guts and thinks im awful. but also 2. i am mentally and physically disabled as well as lgbt and there are a lot of times where people do in fact go out of their way to be cruel to me because of this and there will continue to be people who are cruel to me because of being disabled and being lgbt. these things can both be true

and alright i promise that im almost done rambling but one last thing i wish that all these years of abuse and torment and harrassment had somehow hardened me and to an extent i am kind of unphased by certain things but its more like i just fucking dissociate but anyway instead of abuse and trauma making me tough i just am so sensitive and always feel like im such a crybaby. i think i do a good job of not like making that other peoples problem i always try to suck it up but i always feel like i just am never able to grow thicker skin when it comes to very specific things that remind me of being abused. like i said our director is such a good director shes so sweet and kind and she did NOT at all say this in a mean way or mean to upset me. but last night she used me as an example where she said "im really a stickler about us saying the lines the exact way the playwright wrote them. rey i dont mean to single you out or bully you or anything like that, youre doing great, but youve been adding a 'but' to that line, lets cut out the but ok?" and again she is such a good director. she said this very kindly and i always appreciate her feedback and instruction. but feeling like im being singled out in front of people is such a big trigger for me and reminds me so much of past trauma and school abuse especially and it took every ounce of self control i had to not start crying and i just felt so humiliated about that. like why am i so sensitive. i know its because ive been abused my whole life but whats wrong with me. nothing bad happened and yet i felt like i wanted to die

anyway thanks if you read all this i prommy im fine im just feeling a lot of different things lately

[ribbitdesdemars]

My parents came over today and I ended up telling them what happened. My dad ended up walking away before I was half way thru the story. The look on his face was the one I was looking for when he found out I was cheated on by a previous ex. Like I’ve truly never seen this man try SO HARD to maintain his poker face. I can’t believe that this is what invoke his rage to the point of no control. Now I understand why he wasn’t there the day she moved out. I mean, I had a feeling but seeing it was something else to say the least. I don’t know if it’s because he went thru a similar situation before meeting my mom or because he hated that his little girl had to suffer the same fate he had. Maybe a little bit of A and a little bit of B. He might of hated seeing the hurt on my face when I told them how everyone around her painted me to be this villain since I’m my fathers daughter in the sense that when shit hits the fan, all emotion goes out the window and logic is the only person running the show. Maybe it was him seeing me have to relive the whole day or hearing that I had retell my side of the story for someone else’s comfort? Who knows lol Honestly, I might be projecting some of my rage onto him. He ended up laying down on my hammock and passing out before I finished my story.

On the other hand, when I said that I spoke with my ex, my mother was not surprised. When I told her that I had told Sabrina the events of that day, she was confused as to why I would expose myself like that just for her to get closure, knowing good and well I had finally let it go. She kept interrupting with her own little comments to the point that I had to be like well if you let me finish you would know that I was getting to whatever she would say lmao She kept doing little HAs whenever I told her how people twisted the narrative or shake her head in disbelief. She was genuinely shocked about how people could be so cruel which I was too honestly like what the fuck did I ever do to these people for them to paint me to be such a heartless monster.

I knew there was a reason why my soul felt restless when working with them but God DAMN todo eso?!? Like enserio?! Thank you JESUS that’s not my fucking problem anymore. Maybe they thought it would be easier for my ex to get over me if she hated me or maybe they felt comfortable talking so much hate on me because my ex did like truly only God knows.

ANYWHOSE

Once I was done, she was glad that I was able to get that off my chest cause she knew it was something that I was still carrying. While, yes, I had already forgiven myself for my actions, this is what I needed. Not only because I was able to tell my side of things but because it was an unpleasant reminder as to why I shouldn’t be looking back. The amount of ANXIETY that rose when talking with my ex was truly SHOCKING. It was like the anxiety engulfed me and bubbled to the surface of my skin. It felt like it was radiating out of me or like I was wearing it. I truly don’t know how to explain. What I do know is that it was an unpleasant reminder of what our relationship was really like. I was constantly worried about saying the wrong thing, having the wrong tone, doing anything that could possibly trigger my ex partner into an emotional spiral. It reminded me that I lived with that anxious feeling 24/7 and how suffocating it felt. It also reminded me of how I felt unseen in the relationship or it reenforced the idea that my ex fell in love with the idea of me but not who I really am. From the beginning of our relationship, I made it very clear that I do not share my personal life with just anyone so hearing my ex tell me that she reached out to people that I haven’t even talked to was revolting and all around disrespectful. I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t dream of us getting back together on a daily thinking maybe if things were different or maybe if I had acted different but after all of that, no thank you. I value my peace and love myself to let myself go through that again.

When I told my mother all of this, the sigh of relief was LOUD lmao she told me she was genuinely worried that I would get back together with my ex due to the way I still talk about her lovingly or how I mentioned that I still miss her or how I am brutally honest when I say that I still love her. At the end of the day, God came through with this one. I told my mom how Sabrina had asked to see me and I told her to come over and after I had said that I prayed to God asking please whatever ends up happening happens for my benefit, for my betterment. So when she ended up not showing up, I knew he was looking out for me cause only He knows what I would have said or done if she was in front of me.

The conversation ended the same way as all my conversations do when I talk about my ex with my mom lol First, she still wishes I would come live back home not only to leave the place that I once shared with my ex but to also save up money to buy a house. Second, her trying to relate with my pain. I finally told her to please stop trying to relate. While I do understand that she has been through heart breaks of her own, she does not understand this specific kind of pain. I told her the best thing she can do is just listen and be patient that I will move on from this. It ended up with me giving her reassurance that I know I will move on since I have survived hardships in the past and her calling me strong. She then tried to get me to unpack some childhood trauma that she really doesn’t have any business in hearing about for her own sake. However, I did take notes to go over with my therapist lol I know she means well and that is all that matters.

[tchaikovskaya]

Lol

[angstyantoinette]

Yandere! Lenore Headcanons

Warnings: NSFW, gaslighting, forced relationship, kidnapping, emotional manipulation. i mean, c’mon, it’s Lenore.

♦️I DO NOT CONDONE THESE BEHAVIORS IN REAL LIFE.♦️

Lenore is the epitome of a yandere who uses emotional manipulation to get what she desires. She’s a diplomat, wishing to maintain peace with other countries, and in doing that...it’s very easy to get ensnared in her web of lies. She is sneaky, hellbent on completing whatever goal she sets herself to.

One day, she just so happened to see you. Looking out the window, absent-mindedly, she saw a small, running figure in the midst of the Styria snow. 

It was alarming surprising to say the least; if any humans were to find it’s way out here in the cold, they wouldn’t survive long. For this one to be so proficient in their movements, they must be an experienced traveler of some sort. And regarding the cold...you must be wearing some kind of fur. As she continued to watch you, she took note that you never fully came near the castle; you were careful to stray from it’s grounds and never come close. So, you were a smart one...how very cute.

She will most likely become interested in you from either a grand, powerful gesture or maybe even a pathetic encounter, but Lenore probably won’t pay much attention to you if she doesn’t see a benefit for herself. But in a Yandere universe, Lenore will do whatever it takes to snatch you up and claim you, keeping you with her forever. That being said, consider yourself very unlucky if she decides to pursue you. 

She’s the kind of yandere to never be too fast, nor slow with her plans in action; and she will try to use her skills as a master puppeteer to draw you in. No longer will you be able to keep your distance, away from the demons, away from Lenore. 

If it’s one things we all know by know it’s that she’s a cruel, a truly sadistic individual. As we see in her interactions with Hector, she’s alluring...almost hypnotic in a sense as she lures her food to exactly where she wants them. Her abilities to gaslight and trick others makes it easier for you to mess up; cue an unfair punishment.

But you’re not her food, but you’re definitely her prey in a different sense. She will not stop at just seeing you and letting you go if she gets bored. If the latter does happen, she will kill you. I’m warning you; don’t struggle or resist. You may just find your end coming closer than you hoped. 

Your original accommodation is a partially-luxurious cell; I say partially because Lenore will use your weaknesses against you in order to demean you. She loves it when you beg for mercy, when you beg for her to let you go. It reminds the both of you that she’s the one in control, your life rests in her hands, and she lives to see the horror in your eyes as you realize that this time, you might not live to see another day. 

Personally, I feel as though Lenore would reward you just as much as she likes to punish you. If you obey her commands, if you listen to her and just stop struggling Lenore will give you gifts. If she knows that you’re hungry, she’ll slip you a hunk of bread. If she wants you to look nice, she’ll brush your hair, maybe wrap a soft scarf through your locks. 

Lenore has the final say in everything to do with you, and the other vampire sisters who she works with could give less of a shit; unless Lenore suspects or catches them trying to kill you, they mostly do anything to keep out of her way where you’re concerned, not wishing for any jeopardizing of ruling Styria.

One of the hardest things about being her darling is that you never actually know how Lenore feels about you. Does she love you? She sure seems to enjoy taking care of you, rewarding you, pleasing you over and over again. Does she want to kill you? You just hate it when she starves you. Why can’t just Lenore let you die, instead of beating you and throwing you around like a doll. She keeps you guessing, and you are thrusted unwillingly into a sick game that bids for your life. You have to constantly be on guard, your lover just treasures it when you cry at her feet, begging for her love which she so diligently gives you. She only punishes you when you deserve it, pet.

The worst feeling of all...is the power that Lenore holds over your head. If you were to try and escape, the outcome could be different depending on her mood. Forced cuddles? If she was feeling nice about it and generous, you’d be forced into her lap, swaddled in blankets, her claws keeping you close to her chest. But no matter how nice she may play herself out to be, Lenore is a monster. Everything she does ‘for you’ is for herself, and she will always be above you.

NSFW

WARNING: DUB-CON, NON-CON, GASLIGHTING.

Except, Lenore’s version of love is breaking, then building her darling up again. If it takes making you cum until you can’t anymore so you just shut up and listen, Lenore will relish in your punishment.

She prides herself in her ability to use your own pleasure against you. You can’t help it. You hate it, when these sexual acts should be so gratifying and sensual, they are performed as though you’re being tortured. Which you are, of course. You hate your body’s betrayal against your better judgment when you cum from Lenore’s touch. This woman has taken you, hunted you down, and forced you into sickening submission.

She has ruined you in many ways, but once Lenore finds a sweet spot to abuse, it’s game over. She loves blindfolding you, tying you down to her lavish bed, with the air making your body prickle with goosebumps; partly from your nakedness, and partly from your fear. She literally makes you guess what she’s going to use on you, and if you get it wrong (you almost always do) she uses it on you ten times harder. She gets off on your pain to the worst level.

Her ways of “pleasing” you makes you orgasm so many times, but Lenore will always finish the job with oral sex. In terms of giving and receiving, she is mostly a giver in her own fucked up way, but she mostly goes down on you to prove a point or as a harsh punishment. Although, since you’re her lover, Lenore really wouldn’t mind you being forced getting between her legs to serve her occasionally.

“Pet, how many times do I have to tell you? You are mine, and you always will be. You never had a choice! That being said, lie down like the good pet you are.”

***********************

so shit just got dark. i wanted to try something new, and i love this show and loathe this character, meaning that it was very easy for me to make her sound as bad as she really is, perhaps even worse. Lenore is so well written and well acted in Castlevania, and she needs more content in the fandom. i am NOT romanticizing her behavior towards Hector or what i’ve written in any way, i just thought it might be interesting to see how she would act if she genuinely “loved” obsessed over someone. Hector is just so gorgeous and cute, he deserves the best. poor boy.

anyway, hope you enjoyed! ♦️

[saintobio]

Unpopular opinion-

I usually skim through Sera's parts bc though she's a good character, her attitude reminds me too much of someone I used to know.

But seeing her interact with her siblings rly touched me with how she genuinely cares for them 🥺 It added so much depth to her character and I can't help but think that if she and Satoru would've never gotten together (she'd still be rly annoying jk-), her attitude wouldn't have gotten worse.

I might even root for her going after Toji if she gets over Satoru and decides to work hard to earn money for herself without relying on rich people to help her bc honestly? she ain't blind. Who wouldn't want Toji's hot dilf ass 🥵

But who knows, I might reread the whole series again and find myself hating her once more. Then again, that part in ch 14 where she dotes over her siblings might make me rethink everything all over again.

Tldr; Sera redemption arc(????)

Anonymous said

as much as i don't want to admit it, i think it's very sweet how much sera cares for ber siblings. yes, sera is the main villain of sn, but i think she's trying her best just so her siblings won't go through what she went through back then. and honestly, reading her interaction with her younger brother made me cry because it just shows how she loves him and wants the best for them </3

Anonymous said

I’m so scared this is gonna take a direction towards wastelands where Mc or Gojo dies like wtf 😭….both of them have been through so much and deserve so much better then what they have right now.

Okay but I was rooting for sister gen to throw some damn hands at sera 😣 but it’s okay revenge takes it’s time

Tw: S*ra slander and love at the same time

Sera in this chapter showing a different side where she isn’t putting up a horrible front is actually kind of relieving in a sense , like atleast she kinda cares about her family and isn’t treating them like total fucking shit. (I can’t get over the fish thing.. 💀) I also started feeling more for sera since at the same time as causing a ripple with Mc’s and Gojo’s relationship I think people fail to realize yes she has issues and crosses the line on so many accounts but the girl out here heartbroken we can’t expect her to just get over Gojo in a minute then walk out of there. Still hate her though <3

Anonymous said

This chapter hurt me man. And I really like how you put the part of Sera and her family. I know at this point we all hate Sera but it’s nice to see her like that because it shows that she’s human like the rest of us and while she’s cruel she can also be compassionate and kind. Maybe if she wasn’t so obsessed with wealth she would’ve been a better person. Also I love the character the development of Gojo. Only you can make me start falling in love with a character I hated so much.

Also why was Naoya shocked by seeing Sera at the funeral? Didn’t he give her advice on going to Gojo and all that?

@wishingforanother said

SAAAIIIINNNTTTT, YOU ARE HEAVEN SENT.

First things first, I enjoyed reading Sera’s side of the story once again. For me, I understand why she’s projecting her anger towards her family. I love that she acknowledges why this is wrong and tries her best to apologise, as well as still being thoughtful and reminding her sibling that she’s still a reliable older sister. To be honest, I did shed a tear for her.

Also, the lovey-dovey interactions between Y/N x Satoru, my heart fluttered so much 🥺. I am so excited to see what your plans are for them in the upcoming chapters, since now they’re going to be parents.

Thank you again for this amazingly written chapter. I hope you enjoy your break and remember to take care of yourself. Know that no matter how many breaks you take, we will wait; it’s okay. 🤍

yesss aaaaah ik sera’s doing a pretty great job as an antagonist rn but i also really wanna show that she’s not entirely evil like eula lol she’s at least human in a sense that she does care deeply for her siblings. i’m so glad you guys loved how another side of her was shown from the last chapter <33 as for third anon, naoya isn’t shocked he’s just a good actor lol

[urimaginespimp]

Untouchable (This Love pt 8)

Bucky x reader (elemental witch)

Set during TFATWS mainly episodes 4-5

Note: Little references on You All Over Me

Previous Part: Happiness

--------

“I’m letting you go, Bucky.”

It felt like he watched a part of himself die as soon as those words left your lips. How could he have been so late to realize that he’s in love with you? And in the worst possible time ever; When you finally look like you’re in peace and ready to open yourself once more to the world.

“I’d really like to be friends with you again someday. Maybe as you’ve said before, I will thank you.” You genuinely smiled at him and he almost wanted to yell at you to take it back. To say that you still want to be together.

But that would be so cruel of him. So he merely returned a smile, hoping that it came off genuine.

“You go alert Sam. I’m gonna try my best to stall Ayo and the other women. Though I doubt I could buy you more than a few seconds once the eighth hour rolls around.” you grinned and turned to go find where the Dora Milaje were waiting.

--------

Eight hours have passed and you were now taking the Dora Milaje to where Sam, Bucky, and Zemo would be.

Only when you were outside the door, you could hear an unfamiliar man’s voice almost threatening Sam into a fight.

“He’d die before he thinks he can hurt a friend to the throne.” Ayo commented, and before you knew it, one of them have thrown their spear before the man who you now can assume as discount Captain America could even raise a fist to Sam.

You walked in beside Ayo and based on Bucky’s expression, their business with Zemo wasn’t even close to done yet.

“Even if he is a means to your end, time’s up.” Ayo declared out loud in the room. “Release him to us now.”

“Hi. John Walker. Captain America.” The man interrupted. You bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing. This didn’t go unnoticed by Bucky however, who was mentally kicking himself because now was not the time to be reminded that he knows how those felt against his. The little taste of heaven he got.

“You were like a little sister to Steve Rogers, right?” He turned his attention to you with a cheery voice. “Happy to finally meet your new big brother?” He jested.

“Sorry. That positions been long taken over ever since the potty mouth racoon started exchanging memes with me.” you retort with a shrug, which made Sam cough to hide his chuckles, and Zemo to look at you as if that was the craziest thing he’s ever heard.

“Well, let’s uh, put down the pointy sticks and we can walk this through, huh?” Walker tried to gain control over the room’s atmosphere.

“Hey, John. Take it easy.” Sam butted in. “You might wanna fight Bucky before you tangle with the Dora Milaje. Or even worse, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I think I can take some water or rocks being thrown at me.” He smirked at you, making the side of your lip twitch.

“Careful, Walker, I’m almost twitching to blend that bloodstream of yours. I can control you like a puppet and I wouldn’t even have to move an inch from where I’m standing.” You smiled at him almost eerily, and Bucky was sporting a proud look on his face.

But of course, you weren’t gonna do it. You’ve long vowed to put puppeting the living off the table unless it was a life and death situation.

Walker gulped before turning once again to Ayo. “The Dora Milaje don’t have jurisdiction here.”

“The Dora Milaje have jurisdiction wherever the Dora Milaje find themselves to be.” You could almost see steam coming out of Ayo’s ears as she spoke. She could also feel that something didn’t feel right with this man.

Looking at his companion, you could see that unlike Walker, he was getting nervous.

“Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot.” Walker played it off, before he layed his hand on Ayo.

Then all hell broke loose.

--------

Ayo literally disarmed Bucky. Both of you shared the same shocked expression.

Walker was catching his breath after they handed his ass to him, and was failing miserably to remove the spear that held the shield up on the table.

Ayo opened the doors to where Zemo had last gone into, only to find it empty.

One of the women took the spear off effortlessly and picked up the shield as Walker was now on the ground looking defeated.

“He is gone. Leave it.” Ayo told her.

Picking his Vibranium arm off the ground, Bucky was still trying to wrap his head around what just happened.

“Did you know they could do that?” Sam asked, just getting up from the floor.

“Guessing from his reaction, no.” You commented as he attached it back and tested it. “Are you alright?” you approached him. His arm worked just fine. Relief flooded him.

“Yeah. How about you? You still got cuts and bruises from Madripoor.” He reaches out and holds a side of your jaw to turn your head as if to assess the minor damages on your face, causing your breath to hitch.

This was the first time he got to touch you again after all the distancing and avoiding you’ve been doing before. He smiled at you sweetly, making you confused. Sam was also giving Bucky a questioning look.

“I think I’m gonna help them look for Zemo. You guys gonna be alright?” you stepped back away from him and turned to Sam, and he nodded before giving you a hug and told you to be safe.

You gave Bucky a smile before leaving to catch up with the Dora Milaje. As soon as you were out of earshot, Sam turned to him with a smug expression.

“Have something to share, Bucky?” He asked playfully, already having a hunch why Bucky was acting all weird.

“Sam, I’m in love with her.” He replied, still staring at the direction where you just exited.

“Yeah, I figured.” he snorted in reply. It was about damn time.

“But just when it hit me, she then says she’s letting me go. Now I’m the one caught up in her.”

“Well that’s some angsty shit right there, man. Let’s grab something to eat first and talk about how your cyborg brain finally named the feelings you’ve had all this time.” Sam pats his shoulder before muttering that he was gonna need food for this discussion.

--------

You had an inkling that Zemo was heading to Sokovia. And it seemed that Bucky had the same though as he caught up on you and the Dora Milaje on your way there.

The moment you saw him, the dried blood on his face raised your concerns, and he was trying to hide the fact that he was enjoying your attention when you insisted on patching him up, and you were oblivious to the Dora Milaje’s teasing glances thrown his way, and even when one of them mouthed the word simps to him.

He made a mental note to look up what that means later.

I thought you’d be here sooner.” Zemo spoke as he got nearer. “Don’t worry, I’ve decided I’m not going to kill you.”

“Imagine my relief.” Bucky replied, clicking the gun on his side.

“The girl has been radicalized beyond salvation. I warned Sam, but he didn’t listen to me. He’s as stubborn as Steve Rogers before him. But you... they literally programmed you to kill. James, do what needs to be done. Karli has people everywhere, and there’s only one way to make sure she cannot continue her mission.” Zemo rationalized.

“I appreciate the advice. But we’re gonna do it our own way.”

Zemo chuckled softly. “Yeah. I was afraid you would say that.”

Raising the gun to his head, there was no once of fear in Zemo’s eyes, rather it looked like he was ready to be reunited with his family. This was further shown when he actually nodded at Bucky.

Only that nothing happened as he pulled the trigger. Instead, he raised his left fist, and as he opened it, the bullets fell off, clanking on the ground.

Just then, three of the Dora Milajes marched up behind him, ready to take him away this time.

“Ladies...” he acknowledged them before turning back to him. “I took the liberty of crossing my name in your book. I hold no grudges for what you thought you had to do.” Bucky nodded, appreciating the gesture.

“Parting words of advice...” Zemo spoke again, this time lower as he knew you might be somewhere nearer and might hear what he’s about to say next.

“Like every other dollar in our pockets, you can’t change where it’s been, James. Much the same goes for you. But Y/N... She loves you nonetheless. And if my eyes don’t deceive me, I’d say you feel the same but she’s doesn’t know that.” he smiles at him

“I’d only realized it myself recently.” He confesses, only then realizing that the three women were listening and now had their brows raised in surprise.

“Don’t be too late.” Zemo grinned in satisfaction of his confession.

“I’m gonna work on that, thank you.” He returned the smile.

“Goodbye, James.”

As you saw them lead Zemo to the ship, you took that as your cue to finally approach them. You’d witness the entire thing, except that it was all inaudible from where you’ve been standing.

“It would be prudent to make yourself scare in Wakanda for the time being, White Wolf.” You heard Ayo advise him as you were finally in earshot’s way.

“Fair enough.” he replies in understanding.

Ayo nodded at you as you came closer to where they were, and she shot you a teasing wink, confusing you while Bucky cleared his throat in embarrassment.

“We’ll wait for you in the ship.” she told you.

“I didn’t know you could be so theatrical, Bucky.” You grinned teasingly at him.

“Had to give you a little inkling to what was happening since you were so far away.” He gave you a boyish smile.

“You’re gonna pick those up later, right?” you gestured at the bullets still on the ground.

“Yeah, just after all of you are gone. Don’t wanna ruin the magic of that scene.” He replied scratching the back of his head, making you laugh.

"You’re going back to Wakanda with them?” Because if you are, then the universe was definitely punishing him since he can’t really go there right now as he pleases.

“Yeah, I’m long overdue for a visit.” You answered. “Don’t worry, I’ll explain everything to them. You’d be in their good graces again in no time.” you assured.

As you spoke, the sun was just starting to set behind you, creating a golden outline of you. The sight was making his heart pound. To him you were burning brighter than the sun.

Yep, the universe is definitely fucking me. He thought to himself.

And as you stepped closer, he felt like he was coming undone when you hesitantly pulled him in for a small hug.

“Take care of yourself, James.” you whispered.

James. She called me James. Heat was rising up in him.

Breaking off from the hug, you were blushing. “It’s alright if I call you that too, right? I mean I know I said that’s what I called 1940s you when we were testing the time portal, but it’s still you, you know, and-”

“You can call me whatever you want, sweetheart.” He cut off your rambling, smiling at you. “Just not Barnes again.” He added.

“Why?”

“Well, you were mad at me the whole time you did so.”

“Okay, dipshit.”

“Y/N.” he feigned offense.

You laughed at his expense. “I’ll let either one of you know if I’m back in New Asgard.”

“We’ll have a lot of catching up to do by then.” He smiled, and you turned to head to the ship where unbeknownst to you, the women and Zemo have been watching the two of you interacting.

“Hey Y/N?” Bucky called out to you at the last second.

“Yeah?”

He was contemplating whether he’d just tell you right then and there about his feelings. It was starting to eat him up, but then he shook it off, knowing that he and Sam still had a mission to finish first.

“I... I may have another favor to ask Wakanda.”

--------

When he got to Sam’s hometown, he saw that there was a community of people helping repair a boat. It reminded him of his time working with in the docs.

He’s now offered his services to help Sam repair their family boat. He’s also met his sister Sara, nad he was surprised that when he made an attempt to be charming, it actually kind of worked.

They were now enjoying a drink together after a day’s worth of fixing.

“Talked to Y/N, yet?” Sam asked him, taking a swing of the bottle.

“She’s a lot more friendly to me now which is both a good and bad sign for me. But I haven’t told her yet. Not really a good time.” he answered in dep thought.

“You know before we got ourselves tangled into this mess, like way before Walker happened and you decided to show up, we were in constant communication.” Sam shared.

“Yeah?” he failed to hide the jealousy in his voice, causing Sam to crack up.

“Don’t get your metal panties in a twist, man. We were mostly talking about you." he clarified. “She knew you didn’t want to see her - which I beg to differ by the way – but she was somehow hoping you would at least be talking to me.”

“I’m sorry for ignoring your calls and text.” He says to Sam, which the man assured him was fine. “There were instances at night where I couldn’t sleep and my thoughts would be plagued with her. That I wish I hadn’t been so rash with making the decision to be alone and leave her the way I did.” this was the first time he talked about it to someone. His own therapist didn’t know a thing about it.

“Let me ask you something. Where do you want to stand in her life after all of this is over?” Sam knew this wasn’t what co-workers would be talking about but he knew that this was for the good of you both.

“I want to spend the rest of my years making it up to her. To let her know that while it took me long to realize it, we were actually always in the same page.” He found himself replying with no hesitation. Sam was satisfied with this answer.

“And how are you gonna convince her to give you a chance?”

He shrugged. He didn’t know just yet.

“Tell you what. The younger people around here know their stuff when it comes to matters of the heart. I’ll have them make a manuscript you could read, or a video tutorial.” He chuckles. He had no idea Sam was being serious.

“Well...” Bucky got up and clinked their bottles together. “Gotta catch my flight tomorrow. Get a hotel for the night. Crash, you know?”

“You’re just gonna set me up like that, huh?” Sam grinned, shaking his head.

“Well I don’t wanna make it weird for your family.” He shrugged.

“Just stay here. The people in this town are the most welcoming people in the world. They don’t care if you wear small T-shirts, or if you have six toes, or if your mom’s your aunt, or that I work with a reformed cyborg that’s in love with a witch that’s practically an avatar, who apparently single-handedly secured her adoptive father’s kingdom’s economy-” Bucky chuckled at Sam’s ramblings.

“Okay, I get it. I mean, you know, the people are nice.” he concedes.

“But don’t displace your feelings for Y/n by flirting with my sister.” Sam pointed at him. “Cause if you do, I’ll have Carlos cut you up, feed half of you to the fish, and send the other half to New Asgard so they could to feed you to their fish.”

“Okay.”

--------

He was gazing up at the stars, feeling the soft grass underneath his lying figure. The comfort and peace it gave him was almost nostalgic.

“How is it possible that this place also has the best set of stars for us to look at?”  A voice spoke next to him. Turning his head to where it came from, his heart fluttered as he welcomed the sight of you lying next to him, looking up the sky with such wander in your eyes.

He recognizes this scenario. He had just woken up once again from a nightmare, and couldn’t fall back asleep despite your presence. So, you proposed you’d both get some fresh air and just lay out on the field while the rest of Wakanda was fast asleep.

At first he was hesitant, not wanting to keep you up any longer, but you insisted that you haven’t been able to sleep a wink before he woke up from his nightmare. That’s how he groggily got up and took the hand you offered up to him as you lead him out of your shared hut, and into the wide field before you.

“Ayo said you’re having progress.” you turned your head to look at him. This time, he was the one stuck looking up the sky. He merely let out a small grunt as a response.

“I’m proud of you, Buck.” He could almost hear the smile from your tone. The genuineness of it all made the side of his lip twitch.

Getting up halfway to face him, you were supporting yourself up with your elbow. “We could celebrate if you want.” you suggested.

“I’m not even fully recovered yet.” he replied.

“So? Every milestone to recovery should be celebrated.” you shrugged. “C’mon old man, it doesn’t have to be grand. Any piece of treat you have in mind?”

“I’ve been meaning to try sushi.” He muttered shyly.

“Consider it done.” you beamed at him, laying back down.

There it was again. The tingly feeling he had in his stomach, which only ever occurred every time you were near. Maybe this was the feeling of gratitude. You’ve never been less than nice to him.

Yeah, that explains it. He thinks to himself.

“Why are you so fine with spending your days here anyway? Don’t you have someone waiting on you out of Wakanda? Steve said you’re more social than him.” He found himself asking.

Still looking up, you were sporting a gentle smile on your face. “I spent a great deal reading up classic romance novels when I was just learning the Midgardian ways. And I’m still in love with the whole chivalry, slow-burn romance thing. Imagine my disappointment when the first civilian man I found inherently cute outright asked me if he could have some in the bathroom.” you pursed your lips, making Bucky crack a soft laugh.

“My ma would’ve had my head if I ever said that to a lady.” he replied smiling, his eye crinkling at the thought. “...is that why you said you find me incredibly attractive?” he found himself asking, surprising both of you.

Even underneath the stars, he could see the heat rising up your cheeks. “Oh, you remember that?” you chuckled awkwardly.

“It’s not every day a girl would say that to the world’s deadliest assassin whose just been accused of a bombing incident.”  he was mentally kicking himself for even opening up the topic.

“It’s Steve’s fault. He wouldn’t shut up about how charming and a gentleman you are. And it didn’t help that you’re annoyingly handsome.”

He shifted in his position. “Bet you’re disappointed now.” he said in a low voice.

“Not really.” you argued. “If anything, you’ve added the words hot and strong to the list.” you teased, poking him on the arm. He shook his head at how casual you were being.

“Sooner or later Buck, it won’t be just me crushing on you. Maybe you’d even find yourself falling for a civilian.” There was a hint of sadness behind your smiling eyes. Everybody in the kingdom knew of her allegedly having a crush on you, curtesy of Steve’s blabbering mouth, but this was the first time she actually admitted it.

He didn’t say it, but the thought of what you just said didn’t appeal to him. It felt almost wrong to imagine himself casually being open and carefree with someone else.

Carefree. This was what your conversation now felt like. You managed to somehow make him talk, far from his usual quiet and grunting self during daytime.

He opened his mouth trying to think if a reply when you cut him off.

“Don’t respond to that. You’ve already managed to make my drowsy self, confess having a crush on you.” he turned his head to look your way again, only to find that you now had your eyes closed, a small smile playing on your lips.

Letting you finally get some sleep; he turned his attention back to the sky.

And it's like the million little stars above him were spelling out your name.

Just then he wakes up from the dream, as the little whispers by the doorway caught his attention. Sam’s nephews were playing with the shield.

“Hey!” he raised his hand to greet them while still lying down on the couch.

“Put it back.” one of them said to the other. “Hurry, hurry.” and they both took off.

Alone once more, his thought went back to the dream of a memory he had with you.

He found himself smiling.

--------

Y/N: Thanks for all the love! We're one chapter away. I'm just waiting for the last episode (brb crying) to decided where we go from here.

@eternalharry @iheartsebandchris @lizzarooni @the-ayo-lit @tanyaherondale @eliwinchester-barnes @knowyourworth-sellyoursoul @ebxny27 @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @fadingdreamersportsmaker

[dream-to-be-frog]

hello just watched kate (2021) and. thoughts. spoilers ahead, of course.

things about kate (2021) that make me go ????:

mew is super pretty but. why is she a random white girl in japan.

moreover, why are she and her handler (henceforth known as haymitch because hunger games) both in japan !

it just. does not seem like the story needed to be in japan. it feels like they chose japan for vibez only. oh, there’s cool technology stuff and bright colors! that sure would look nice on screen! we can do some fun weird fetishizy implications about asians while we are at it hehe🤪

like 30 mins into the film @scrambld-egg was like “why’s it always the yazuka?” and like. YEAH. this could have happened in russia or be italian mafia or literally any kind of organized crime anywhere because of how absolutely little relevance it has to the plot.

why is kijima’s brother even a target? why him specifically? what did he do bestey

what does their “crime syndicate” even do? what kind of illegalities do they get into? did anyone even consider this

did anyone consider any of this plot, frankly. like i have to ask.

we all knew haymitch (varrick) was working against her after she suggested retiring and like. that kind of plot twist is fun and all but GOD would it kill y’all to make it more ... something ? dramatic, personal, thought-through ?

like. yeah he is selfish and cruel and obviously groomed her from a time she was vulnerable and a literal fucking child to be his little killer but WHY is he like this. we do not get any backstory for him, even a little.

similarly, what changed for renji that made him so willing to turn his back on family. we kind of see something in that he thinks he can do better than kijima and he got power hungry but for a group that supposedly cares about family he sure was willing to massacre his.

in fact, kijima even said something about how western poisonous mindsets overtook renji and made him turn his back on family and just. okay but for why

it’s just a Lot to kill a child, especially a niece or whatever she was to him. silly

we know kate was trained to be a killer since being literal Baby but like. i wanted to see more flashbacks that made her solidify her implicit trust in haymitch.

i am begging why the FUCK is she even in japan it does not seem like she travels much

for that matter, if she IS the kind of assassin who travels a lot (i miss villanelle at least she fucking made sense), they literally never mention it. they literally do not talk about her life experiences aside from freaky haymitch being a weirdo awful man.

to recap: did she travel for her murder work? if yes, why not say so. if no, why the FUCK is she in japan of all places.

how can you have a story in japan about a woman and make her white

and then have her massacre a bunch of asian men for no reason that we know. i didn’t even know to hate them i just felt bad and there is something unsettling (as an article i found articulated better than i could as i watched) about watching her mindlessly murder a bunch of poc.

like i get the reason why ani was obsessed with kate because she lost everyone and new mother figure saved her life but like

why does kate care so much? if it’s guilt, aside from her quitting because she can’t get over osaka, we don’t see any of her conflict.

i’m just. kind of bitter because the premise and the characters have SO MUCH POTENTIAL but the absolute lack of plot is devastating

and like. i can appreciate a good action movie with zero plot + blood and vibes only but the way that kate started made me genuinely be like oh wow! they sure have a lot to work with i hope they develop things!

things that kate (2021) could have done better to truly live up to all of it’s incredible potential; a list:

listen the actress is super pretty (she reminds me of renfri from the witcher and i would DIE for renfri) but like. she should have been half-japanese.

when ani tells kate “we’re the same” .... girl help that would he SO MUCH FUCKING BETTER if kate was half japanese.... kate would literally see herself in ani, a half-japanese girl who is forced to grow up too soon with too much violence around her.... the parallels between the lives they could lead and have lead would be so much cooler....

and it would goddamn explain why the FUCK she was in japan oh my god it is just so seems white savioury even though kate doesn’t play the hero and like

a flashback scene (NOT a flash of one) where she was younger and haymitch was coaching her and something goes wrong and you see that weird freaky deaky bond demonstrating her implicit trust in him.

how can you have ani LITERALLY SAY “i’m the last person you’ll ever get to know. are you sure you don’t want to know me? that’s sad, kate. that’s sad.” AND LITERALLY NEVER HAVE KATE LEARN MORE ABOUT HER

like they made kate fall asleep like IMMEDIATELY after, so everything she could have learned about ani was said to her when she was passed out. and it made the scene where ani takes selfies with her kinda weird because there is not that much emotional impact

similarly her death was anticlimactic? i like when action movies have anticlimactic deaths but those deaths usually have some emotional impact and. this was so hollow besties

it just is such a shame because the cinematography was BRILLIANT and again there was. SO MUCH POTENTIAL for a movie to MEAN something

there were a couple of metal lines too, but those seemed hollow as well. “i’m dying. i have to finish... i have to finish something.” could have been SO GOOD. “my life was never mine. until now.” (this one may not be verbatim i cannot remember exactly) could have been SO GOOD. the basic premise was all there... she was regaining control of her life hours before her death, the poetry is all there, just BEGGING to mean something. but it doesn’t, in the end. it doesn’t mean much at all.

some action movies are good for nothing but blood and i can respect that. but when a story is TRYING to have a point but misses in delivering... that’s when i get upset. i love mindless shit but if you want me to care, fucking make me care, kings!!!!

that is all.

anyway. thoughts?

[redhairedfeistynerd]

Slush and a Side of Toys

Part 1

A/N: I'm months behind on everything but here is my piece for @sweater-daddiesdumbdork  and @sagechanoafterdark  Winter/Holiday Festival Challenge. I chose #38 donating toys to children.

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, angst, frustrated reader, swearing, alcohol

Words: 5800+

Part 2 will be up soon!!

Please like, comment and reblog. I appreciate it and thanks for reading.

All mistakes are my own

A reminder - my work is not to be reposted anywhere.

There’s a muffled humming coming from somewhere under a pile of paperwork and takeout containers on your floor. The sound is constant, piercing, and irritating. Eyes still closed, head pounding from an evening of too much wine and schmoozing, you reached down towards the sounds and ran your hands over the stack, following the vibrations of your phone. Once found, you yanked it away from it charging cord and used every ounce of energy you had, pulling the phone close to your face. Opening one eye a sliver to hide from the light, you read from the bright screen.

Hey, listen, I know we've had our differences the last few years but I think it's time we put all of it behind us. I saw Rosie the other day and asked her how you were doing but she kept it pretty vague. I hope to hear from you soon, even if it's only a text to say you’re doing okay.

Reading over the message a second time, in utter shock that he had the audacity to message you and pissed that he even dare ask your friend about how you were; you decided to turn off your phone and toss it into a pile of clothing on the floor.  

What. A. Dick.

Rolling back over into your cozy blanket cocoon, falling back asleep, temporarily pushing away any thoughts of the man from your past.

The message was all but forgotten until later that day when a familiar song came on the radio and you couldn’t help but think about how you had both downed several beers at a pub and sang it at the top of your lungs. Maybe it had been a dream earlier and the text never happened. Pulling your phone from your back pocket, hoping it was all your imagination, you indeed saw that there was a text.

The ever-so-hard to escape blue eyed man, was trying to weasel his way back into your life and you weren't having any of it. Dropping the phone into the bag sitting at your feet, getting up from the desk, shaking out a bit to ease the tension that one tiny text had accumulated.  

"Don't think about him. Don't think about him. Don't think about him," you repeated the words over and over, hoping to push all thoughts aside. In stocking feet, walking around the small hole you called your office and continued to shake it out. The calm didn’t last as long as you hoped, anger slowly creeping up and out.  

"Stupid frikkin guy!! UGH!" The sound of your disgruntled cry, shook you a bit, the frustration clearly coming out louder than expected. "All right, settle yourself down, you can't let him have this sort of pull over you," hoping the self-talk would work, you ran your hand through your hair and walked back to the desk. "Delete it, pretend that you never looked at it and it will go away."  

There was no way the struggle going on inside your head would even fathom deleting the text. Truth be told, as much as you cursed and hated the thought of him trying to slide back into your life, there wasn’t a month that went by without a thought of him crossing your mind. A song playing, a Romcom from the 90s, the pizza you both loved so much. Why couldn’t you escape him?

You shot off a quick text to Rosie, curiosity was killing you now, itching inside you, desperate to find out how the hell you had come up in conversation.

Y/N -Word on the street is that you ran into a clown I once knew; I’m curious what was said.”

Rosie: Oh no, he didn’t.

Y/N: He did and it was pathetic

Rosie: It was a super quick interaction. Both of us waiting for a coffee and being friendly. He asked about you almost right off the bat though. It almost rendered me speechless after what happened.  

Y/N - So, that’s it? What did you say? Did you tell him how fantastic my life is going and that I probably wouldn’t even remember him?

Rosie: you and I both know, that that’s a load of shit. I’ve had wine nights with you, that man-child has never left that brain of yours.  

Y/N Shut up.

Rosie: Really though, it was super quick. I said you were doing charity work and were still in the city, happy and healthy.  

Y/N- good to know. I’ll just sit here and pretend his message never happened then. Carry on as usual.  

Rosie: see you later this week?

Y/N Definitely, bye babe.

Placing your phone down on your desk, you continued opening your mail: thank you cards for volunteering, appreciation notes from parents and kids, and requests for you to help out at other groups around town. The next month would be hectic, with collecting the many donations from around the city. You had to finish training several new volunteers that would assist with wrapping, delivering, and presenting gifts to the charities and individual families that you helped support during the Winter months.  

It became a mechanical process, opening envelope after envelope, that you weren’t paying attention to the return addresses. It wasn’t until you read the first few lines that the letterhead caught your eye and did it burn.  

Blue-eyed monster strikes again via his mother.

You knew it wasn’t the case though, his mom, was offering a bursary to some of the kids you helped out and she was reaching out to you and other groups in the city to help.  

It didn’t take much to pull your mind from work once you had read the Evans name on the letter. Bits and pieces shifted in your mind; you couldn’t fight it any more today. The letter slipped to the floor and you sat back against your desk, the memories that you had been pushing away, were flooding back.

It all started innocently about three years ago, bumping into one another around town, having several acquaintances that knew each other, and a tendency to make the other smile when the lamest dad jokes were thrown around. His face was incredibly animated and you loved the way his eyebrows would jump up while he spoke, there was mischief behind them that you wanted to discover. Even a quick peek, would ease the curiosity.

You recognized that laugh from across the room of the gallery – full of heart and genuine. Turning around, you spotted Chris mingling with other attendees of the charity event. You were here to help raise money for low-income families in the community that could not afford music lessons or music therapy for their children. The profits from the art sold this evening, would help buy instruments for the school that was set to open the following month. You knew Chris had donated and you had volunteered to help teach the parents with baby's groups every second weekend. It was the least you could do, you had a bit of extra time and needed to give back to the community that helped you and your family out during your childhood.

“How did I know you would be here?”  

You must have zoned out thinking about that boisterous laugh that you didn’t see Chris walking over to you. You smiled as he leaned in wrapping one arm around you, a beer being held in his other hand. His smell was intoxicating – a mixture of orange and the woodiness of sandalwood. Would it be wrong if you pulled him closer to take a quick whiff before he pulled away?  

He took his time moving back from you, winking as his arm shifted back to his side and lifting the beer to his mouth with the other, take a long sip.

“So, you out here to buy some art?” he asked, taking another drink.

“No, not buying tonight. One of the pieces is mine, I donated it to help out.”

“You have something up for sale here?” He questioned, taking a quick spin around to quickly look at all the art hanging around the gallery. “Which one is yours?”

“Oh, I am NOT telling you that. I think I’ll leave it up to you to figure out which one is mine. You can play the role of Sherlock Holmes.”

“Now, that’s just cruel.”

“Cruel? Nah. Mysterious? Yes. Are you up for a little game of 5 questions to help you out? If you can guess which one is mine, then I guess you have bragging rights because I haven’t discussed my art with anyone here. If you don’t figure it out, then I suppose it will be a mystery forever.”

“Oh, I KNOW I’ll be able to figure this out!” Chris says loudly, clapping his hands together and popping each shoulder up and down. “I’m always up for a challenge.”

“Here’s the deal, you ask me whatever you need to to figure out which one is mine. Obviously, you can’t ask which one is mine as one of your questions. Ready?”

“Ready!” Chris said enthusiastically. He took your hand and brought you to the front of the room to observe the first of the paintings. “Let’s take a quick gander and then I’ll start. How does that sound to you?”

“Whatever you need to do, Evans.”

Chris pulled you from canvas to canvas, still holding your hand as he inspected each piece. “First question. “Did you only use paint for the one you donated?”

“NOPE, next question, Evans!”

“Okay, okay, I got this,” he bounced around on the spot and turned his head to quickly glance over the works close to him. “Shit, I guess I should have asked if what you donated was a painting, right?”

You walk a circle around Chris “Is that your question?” you ask, eyebrow raised.

His blue eyes flick quickly to yours before he says, “Ya, actually...ya. That’s what I want to know. Did you submit a painting?”

“Yes, one of my paintings is hanging somewhere in one of these giant rooms.”  

“You really don’t think that I’m capable of figuring this out, do you? Ye of little Faith,” he smirked and pulled you to the back of the dark room. “Any reason why it’s so dark back here?”

“Maybe that’s what the artist wanted?”

“Here’s question three then,” he said as he pulled you closer to him, your eyes looking into his as he asked. “Is you painting in the dark room?”

“Is that really what you want to ask me?”

Chuckling, you take hold of his hand and lead him to another section of the gallery. “I don’t want you to miss any pieces, so take a look around here before you ask number three.” He squeezed your hand and looked up, the ceiling adorned with a beautiful piece; birds in flight but as they reached the furthest wall, the began to decay, until only single feathers remained.    

“Here’s number three, ready?” He looked to his left where you were nodding your head back. “Did you mainly use your hands for this piece? I mean, instead of brushes or other tools.”  

You were silent for a moment before answering, did you want to tell him how much of yourself you had put into this piece? That what the brushes couldn’t do, you did with your hands and arms? “I did. This one needed more than brushes.”

Chris smiled at you, “feel like telling me what else you used?”

“Not a chance,” you said, grabbing a glass of white wine from the tray passing by. “You want a glass?”  

Chris held up his bottle, its content revealing that it was still half full. “I think I have a pretty good idea which one is yours, so these last two questions are going to be good.” With two large gulps, he finished up the rest of his beer. “So, what happens when I guess, do I get some sort of prize? Maybe you could paint me or something?”

“If you mean, could I dump a bucket of paint over your cocky head, then, sure!”

Chris burst out laughing, pulling you into him for a squeeze.  “I love how you make me laugh and I bet you would actually do that to me. But really, if I do guess, what happens?”

You kept your body close to his, his arm still holding you close as you responded, “what do you think would be suitable prize, Chris? Do you want me to paint something, make you a prince? Maybe something of you and Dodger? Or maybe I could paint your like one of my French girls.”

“I would love one of your pieces, but if I win this, I’d like to take you out. Is that okay with you?”

Your grip tightened around the wine glass, trying not to let it slip to the floor. It was a shock, to hear that this man, one that you had flirted with for months, was asking if you wanted to go out with him.  

“Y/N?”

“Sorry, I... I didn’t expect you to ask me that,” you answered, fidgeting with your hands out of awkwardness.

“It’s ok, you can say no! It’s all right to tell me no.”

“No. No. I’d love that. If you can guess which one is mine, I will gladly go out with you. Dinner, drinks, walk – whatever you like.”

Chris placed his empty beer on the table closest to you. “Ready for my last two questions?”

“As ready as one can be.”

“Is your piece hung on the wall as a landscape?”

“Look at you Evans, you got another one.”

Chris rubbed his hands together, his smile wide and full, clearly showing that he was on a winning streak. “Here’s number four and then I’ll go right to the painting I think, the painting I know it is. Chris walked back and forth in front of you before turning to face you with his last question. You had grabbed another glass of wine and took a sip, waiting for his winning question. “Does your piece use more than black and white? – so many of these photos, sculptures, paintings are very monotone.”

“You’re good Evans and yes, I filled my picture with the rainbow. So, take my hand and show me what the answer to this mystery is.”

His warm hand took your free one and he walked you to one of the side rooms – this room was full of colourful pieces. You could feel the heat flushing across your cheeks and a thin layer of sweat formed at your hairline. Chris stopped and turned towards the back wall and pointed to one of the paintings. “I’m pretty sure this one is yours,” he said with a half-smile. “Am I right?”

You had wished, during those few minutes he had suggested that he take you out, that he would guess which one is yours. But what were the chances with over 40 pieces around you? You tried to keep your body from slouching before you softly answered “No. That’s not mine.”

The happiness in his eyes left quickly once you responded.

“Are you going to tell me which one is yours though?” He asked you eagerly.

“No, I think I’m going to keep that secret to myself. Thanks for the fun, Evans, I should get home. Another day of charity work for me tomorrow.”

“Wait, Y/N, I’d still like to take you out though, will you let me do that, please?”

“I guess we’ll have to see what the future brings,” you replied, giving him a little wink and a squeeze to his hand, you took one last sip of your wine before heading to the coat check.

Chris watched you as you wrapped a scarf around your neck and slipped your arms into the long, wool coat.  Walking back over to him and wrapping your arms around him, it was a quick hug and he barely had an arm around you before you were stepping back. With a smile on your face, you turned and stepped out into the night. Chris watched as you turned right and glanced his way, your hand lifting up and into a quick wave. He couldn’t stop smiling and knew he had to see you again.

It didn’t take long for that to happen. You couldn’t get him out of your thoughts and dreams after the encounter at the gallery. He really was something; funny, compassionate, a hard worker, and you couldn’t deny that he was incredibly good looking.

After an event in town and a few drinks later, it was easy as pie, asking him over for dinner. He had initially thought you were pulling his leg.  

Chris couldn’t stop laughing. "Oh ya, sure you want me to come over for dinner," laughing at your request and taking a sip of his IPA.

The pink that had flushed across your cheeks when you had shyly asked him was disappearing like an ice cube in hot soup. He picked up on the change immediately and apologized profusely. "I didn't think you were serious! You are serious, right?”

"Why wouldn't I be? It's just dinner," you shrugged. “I don’t see why you would have such a dramatic response to a simple question.” There was an awkwardness now and maybe you shouldn’t have asked him to come over. “Sorry, I thought since we kind of hand a friendship blooming and I tend to invite friends over...”

He took hold of your arm and pulled you into his chest, a big smile across his face. “I'll come by; don’t you worry. Which day this week works for you? I'll be out of state after this week for a bit, so hopefully something the next few days will work for you,” he said, squeezing you a bit before he released his hold on you.  

Trying not to be awkward, you responded "This week will definitely work, tomorrow or the next day are open for me."

"Let’s go for tomorrow, okay?  Would you like me to bring anything?” Chris smiled  

“Be sure to bring the dog, he's the one I'm really inviting.”

"Well, fat chance of me coming by now, I see where your allegiances lie, " he said half closing his eyes and glaring at you in a teasing manner.

"Ok then, just drop the dog off, I'm sure he'll enjoy the feast."

Chris couldn't help laugh at the way you were carrying on with this charade. The half-smile that was currently on your face was one full of mischief and it was something that he had come to enjoy the last few times he had run into you around town. He could see a sparkle in your eyes, something that he didn’t notice before today and it was something, that he could get used to.  

“A thought crossed my mind... what exactly would have happened if I had guessed right?”

“Since that didn’t happen, I guess you’ll never know,” you said with a shrug and nudged him with your shoulder.

“You sure like to tease me.”

“What exactly am I teasing you over?”

“The opportunity to be in your presence again,” he replied, a slight blush crossing his cheeks.

Finishing up your drink, you placed the glass back on the cardboard coaster and turned to face him.  

**

“What the hell is THIS?” he asked grabbing at the green monster type thing that was hanging from a lamp in your living room

"That, is a flying frog - one of those weird ass dad gifts - he's always finding these peculiar creatures for me and I can't seem to part with them.

"It's sure ugly"

"You're ugly!” You shouted back at him and burst into the most beautiful smile he had seen cross your face.

"What are you, 12?

"Sometimes,” you replied.

Chris couldn’t help but laugh at you and pull you into a quick side hug. "You're a funny one" he feels you squeeze him back softly, a smile crossing his face at the quick interaction.

"I better go take a peek in the oven and make sure everything is baking the way it should. Make yourself cozy, I'll be right back."  You looked back to him, pointing at the couches before turning and walking down the hallway to the kitchen. Turning you head back, forgetting to offer him a drink but his long strides had brought him right behind you quickly, almost colliding with your body. He tripped up a bit and moved his hand to your hip to catch himself.

"I want to see what you're up to in here, see what the chef is cooking up.” Chris resting his chin on your shoulder to peek at what you were stirring on the stove.

“You couldn’t sit still and wait for me to come back, did you miss me that much,” you teased.

“I couldn’t stand to be apart from you for a second longer.”

“That is the cheesiest lines, Evans. Does shit like that work for you?”

“What matters is, if it’s working on you. So, is it?”

You hummed, refusing to answer the question and carried on taking care of the food in the oven. Satisfied with how everything looked, you turned the timer back on and offered Chris a drink. Agreeing on wine, you pulled a bottle from the rack, passed the stemless glasses to Chris, grabbed his hand, and lead him back into the other room. Sitting on the larger of your two couches, Chris took a place beside you, taking the bottle from your hand, opening the bottle, and pouring you a generous glass before pouring his own.  

“To friendship,” he said raising his glass

“To friendship, good food, and drinks,” you added and brought your glass to his, a quick clink, and sips were taken.  

Dinner was ready within the hour and you both continued to chat while enjoying your meal.  

“That was one of the best meals I’ve had in a long time, thank you”, complimented Chris as he wiped his mouth with the napkin when he had finished his last bite.  

The compliment brought the feeling of heat to your face and out of awkwardness you almost knocked your glass over as you reached for the wine.

“Want a refill?” You asked, holding up the second bottle of red that night. “You have good taste in wine, Mr. Evans, this wine is top notch,” you said, looking over the label of the wine he had brought with him.

Chris smirked and slid the glass to his left “I’m glad you think so, I’ll definitely have another. This should probably be the last one though, I feel like I’m overstaying my welcome.” He watched as you poured, your hair falling forward as the wine glass filled. “Cheers, thank you for the invite and many thanks for a delicious meal. You are constantly surprising me with your talents.”

“You aren’t overstaying. I’m enjoying your company and don’t want you to leave yet. Here, let me show you what I’m working on for this year’s event,” you said and pulled your phone out of your dress pocket and slid your finger across the screen. Shifting your body across the cushions toward Chris, you held the phone out towards him.  

“What is it you are putting on this year?”

“Another charity event, it’s to help out the single parents that live in the community. I try to donate as much time to charities as possible.”

“You have a heart of gold.”

“I want everyone to have a special holiday season, you do it. I see that you donate time and money to charities.”

“I have the means to help and giving back is extremely important to me.” Chris looked through a few more of the photos before placing the phone down next to him on the couch.  

Reaching over to take her phone, Chris put his hand over yours and slid closer. “I know you always think I’m joking around with you when I say how much I love seeing you smile but I’m being 100% honest. Your smile is contagious and I feel like it lights up anywhere we are. It’s a beautiful smile and its part of why I’m so attracted to you.”  

You couldn’t help but laugh at him. “Oh shush, you!”  you said pushing your hand into his chest, your smile wider than he had seen before.  Again, he put his hand over yours and pulled you to him gently with his other hand.  He brought you close, enough to hold you against him for a hug. He watched as your eyes tried to find a joke hidden in his face but you quickly realized that there was something else there. You weren’t sure who moved first as your lips met quickly enough that your teeth clacked together and you swore in pain.  

“Oh fuck, only I would ruin an almost perfect moment. I’m such an-

He pulled you to his lips again, kissing you softly and trying not to laugh at the look on your face.

“Am I a joke to you, Evans?” you asked, kissing him back on the lips.

“Oh, not at all, I didn’t want to have to explain to people we know how I broke your teeth though. I mean, I could make up some ridiculous story about it, could be fun,” he chuckled.

You couldn’t help but throw your head back and laugh, bringing yourself back up to face Chris and pull him by his shirt towards you and kissing him without any stupid errors. You could taste the wine on him, the sweetness adding to the softness of your kiss. He took the lead, pulling you closer and slipping his tongue delicately across your bottom lip before deepening the kiss.  

Your eyes opened when you hear Chris let out a soft moan, not expecting to hear such a sound from him before you could emit one. He did it again and you felt it all the way down your spine and into your soul. Your hands, still in idiot mode, found their way to his hair, and were quickly taking apart his well-coiffed hair by running your hands through it.

“How does your hair smell so damn incredible?

“How do you taste so fucking delicious?

You pulled back, staring him in the eyes “Hmm, maybe you need to taste a bit more, clean that palate of yours,” you teased.

“Are you implying...”

“Not implying, the buffet is open, sir. Dig in.”

Chris’s face went a light shade of red.

“Oh, did I catch you off guard, Casanova?”

“I mean, no... no...’ he stumbled, “OK, fine yes, yes you did.”

“Well, now that you know, let’s get back to business. All right?”

You took control, standing up, taking his hand roughly and leading him to your bedroom.  

“I want you to take off my clothing, piece by piece. I want to see it on the floor and,” you said placing her finger on his lips, “no more talking,” you ordered.

“Anything you want,” he whispered into your ear and he ran his tongue down your neck so softly, that goosebumps raised over yours arms. His hands wandered from your shoulders and down your arms, taking hold of your hands and moving them to his belt buckle.  

Looking up to him, he nodded, silently urging you. Undoing the belt and still staring into his eyes. Moving to unzip his jeans and push the button away, Chris was unzipping the back of your dress, the cool line of metal touching your back as he drew the zipper down the length of your back.  

“You have goosebumps, do I need to warm you up?

“I’m hoping you get to that. Now, what did I say about talking?”

He smirked, pushing the dress down each shoulder until it dropped to the floor. Stepping out of it, you kicked it off with one foot, tossing it towards the wall. Chris’s hands were already roaming, his hands on your hips, fingers sliding into the thin elastic of your panties. His hands slipped across your warm flesh and directly to your cheeks, grabbing each one and squeezing, and pulling you closer to him. His lips were pressed into yours, his tongue back to searching for yours as he wrapped his arms around you and brought you to your bed. Gently, he sat you on the edge and leaned into you bringing you down to the mattress.  

His kisses ran down your sternum and across the soft skin of your breasts while his hands ran across the tops, gently running his fingers over your nipples.  

“Keep doing that, keep... keep touching my breasts, Chris.”

You could feel him pressing into you, his erection, warm and pushing against your core.

His hands squeezed your left breast while he brought his mouth down to your right, taking the nipple into his mouth, gently sucking it. Running his tongue around the bud, a chill running across your arms and a moan escaping your lips.

“I need to be in you now, please, y/n,” he said, kissing up your chest.

“In the drawer, condoms are there and hurry the hell up, Evans, I’ve waited forever for it to rain and fill up the well.”

He chuckled as he crawled over you, limbs knocking yours, a soft hand slapped across his ass, as you watched him open the nightstand drawer, which got stuck in his effort to hurry. “Come on Evans, you got this,”

“A little self-talk over there to get you motivated?”  

Chris smiled as he held up the package and smiled at you before sitting on the edge of the bed to roll the condom down his hard length. He was on you again, returning quickly, his lips pressing against yours. His lips, wet and warm, pushed harder against your mouth as he pushed your legs further apart, taking himself in his hand, rubbing across your wetness and pushing halfway. The groan that escaped his mouth while his tongue continued to touch yours, sent a tingling sensation down your body.  

“Chris, please...” you started to plead and before you could continue, he finished pressing himself into you with a grunt.

“Come on baby, show me how well you can move,” he said as he licked a strip across your neck.  

Wrapping your arms around his neck and shifting your body against his, you let out a wail. Your bodies moved together, the pace quick, the sounds of your wetness echoing throughout your room.  

“Listen to the sounds we’re making, baby,” Chris panted and drove deeper into you. His body was incredibly warm against yours, the sweat making his chest glisten in what light crept in from the hallway.  

Chris slipped his hand down and his fingers met your warmth, crawling in to press against your clit. You clenched around him; a low moan escaped his mouth as he continued his movements.

“A bit more, a bit more,” you groaned, your back arching as Chris sped up. You looked up at him and reached your hand up to his face, holding on and staring into his blue eyes as you felt the tingling ball up within.  

Faster than expected and with one last swipe of his fingers, your orgasm spread out from within. Your shoulders tingled, spreading down to your fingers as you yelped out, the warmth of pleasure flowing down and across your body. Chris had shifted to move into you, helping your orgasm along as his own shuddering began. His lips were pressed into your neck, your name crossing his lips as he slowed his pace, and leaned onto one of his arms. He continued kissing up your neck and met your lips, heavy breaths escaping from both of your mouths.

“You’re incredible Y/N. Incredible.” One more kiss was pressed to your lips before Chris sat up, heading to the bathroom. You watched the light turn on and the door close behind him. You rolled to your side; a smile of satisfaction crossed your face as you closed your eyes.

Your heart jumped when you were woken by blankets being pulled half off of your naked body. It took you a few seconds to realize that a man, a very handsome man, was sleepy peacefully beside you. Turning to face his back and shimmying closer, you pulled the blanket to cover your shoulders and back. His muscular back stared at you and you couldn’t help but raise your hand to the pale skin, bringing your fingertip to his warm skin and drawing lines to connect each freckle.  

“You, know, that feels incredible, please don’t stop,” Chris asked, his words muffled into the pillows.

You continued using his back as your canvas; swans, sunrises, all the beautiful pieces of the world this man helped you see.  

Pushing back into you Chris spoke, “I’m going to be away next week, so I’m hoping I can see you again before I head out of town?”  

Your fingers drew the word yes on his shoulder in response. Chris turned over to face you, pulling you closer to him for a soft kiss. When he pulled back you couldn’t help but smile and pulled him in for something a bit more passionate.

*

Bags packed and his dog set to stay with his family, he walked by the room Scott was in. “Hey, I’m heading out, the car is almost here. Give me a hug for the road.” His younger brother stood up and embraced him, giving him a few pats on the back and wishing him well for his short trip. “Will I see you when I get back or you heading back home?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ll be around still. Mom wants me to stay in town a bit longer. You okay if I’m still free loading off of you a bit longer than planned?”

“You know you’re more than welcome to stay,” he said as his phone chimed from his pocket. “Cars here. Take care of the fam and Dodger for me.” His brother gave him a smile and Chris grabbed his coat and carry-on from the table before heading to the front of the house. Dammit, he had forgotten to remind Scott again about what they had discussed earlier that day. “Scott, make sure you get that message to Y/N, okay? This schedule change was pretty last minute.” He shut the door before he heard a response from his brother. The driver held the door open for him and collected his bags to place in the trunk. He couldn’t get you out of his mind on the way to the airport; your smile, the scent of your hair, the warmth of your naked skin pressed against his. He couldn’t wait to be next to you again.

[clarythericebot]

devi, ben, & the journey towards self acceptance

this post has 2 arguments.

#1: devi’s relationship with ben demonstrates her journey towards self-acceptance.

#2: devi and ben’s relationship develop when they engage with each other as others (as other people with wants and hurts and needs) instead of vicious mirrors of themselves.

The show clearly establishes that Devi and Ben are very, very similar to each other. They’re both nerds. They’re ruthlessly competitive. They’re socially awkward. They care about social status.

They’re both smart people! They probably know this about themselves.

The interesting thing here is that they hate each other. (I’d actually argue that the hatred is more on Devi’s part than Ben’s; by the time the series starts, it feels more like he’s dealing with a crush buried as deep in his subconscious as Samberg’s Emmy; one which comes out in cruel and immature ways, but still lacks the rancor of Devi’s I wish you were killed by Nazis). And if that’s the case, it’s not much of a leap at all to say that Devi doesn’t like herself very much.

This brings me to a part of argument #2, which is that Devi doesn’t really engage with Ben as another person at all (in the earlier part of the series) but rather more as an extension of herself—either as a static, two-dimensional antagonist in the story she tells in her head (which I think is how he comes across in the first few episodes since we are in her head) or an unflattering mirror that she loathes to look at, reminding her about everything about herself that she despises.

For me, what cinches this interpretation is the MUN episode. It doesn’t register to her that MUN is important to him—she goes on the trip to buy some freedom, and his presence, at least at first, is an annoyance. Later, when she is angry at herself – at her own actions, at what she has done – she channels all her anger and takes it out on him.

No one else in this series gets this particular type of cruelty from her. Devi becomes self-centered and prioritizes herself over her friends; they are collateral damage. Devi pushes her therapist away when she thinks she is going to abandon her. Devi snaps at her mother for terrible things her mother had said (disproportionately, but the inciting incident is still something that her mother said to hurt her).

But Devi hurts Ben when she wants to hurt herself.

However, it doesn’t stay this way. The shift occurs not when Devi finally has a breakthrough with herself but when she realizes something about him.

I think episode 1x06 (“Never Have I Ever Been the Loneliest Boy in the World”) is brilliant and beautiful for many reasons, but a huge one is that we literally get out of Devi’s head. We engage more in the worlds that she isn’t really a part of, the other. The wonderful thing is that by the end of the episode, she gets to do the same.

NALINI: Benjamin, I hear you were on that last-minute Model UN trip to Davis.

BEN: Oh, it wasn't so last-minute for everyone. Some of us spent months preparing for that trip. But Devi came in with no preparation and still became the talk of the weekend.

NALINI: Oh. Really? Why was that?

In this scene, Ben has the perfect opportunity to do what Devi had done—to do what Devi would in his place. He could’ve gotten his revenge on her by spilling to her mom what she’d done in the MUN conference. He recognizes that opportunity. If there had ever been a perfect time to nuke Devi back, this was it.

He chooses not to do it.

BEN: Nothing bad. She just brought a lot of passion to her role as Equatorial Guinea.

Ben stands down. Why? Well—because he is Ben and not Devi. It’s in this episode that we see, for longer and a little more concretely, what the show is hinting at since the beginning: that beneath his high school immaturity and ego, Ben is genuinely kind.

Devi catches a glimpse of that at the dinner table and again when he chooses to be honest and vulnerable with her—choices that she’s only ever made kicking and screaming in the principal’s office.

The essential thing here to note is that Devi has been utterly self-absorbed since the beginning of the season. She hasn’t engaged with anyone’s life but her own, even her best friends’—her shit is bigger than theirs, after all. She’s caved in herself and her own selfish narrative (which is incidentally CS Lewis’ definition of hell).

The unexpected vulnerability, however, is enough to hammer at least a small crack in the cave she’s holed herself away in. In seeing the person that Ben is, in engaging with an “other”, she finally manages to take the first few tentative steps in helping herself—admitting her own mistakes.

Their relationship changes from there on out. Devi’s caustic rancor towards Ben vanishes and she becomes friendlier with him. And Ben, well, he attempts to drunkenly kiss her at his party.

In spite of that hiccup, Devi knows that she can count on him for help when she needs it. She trusts him to say yes when she asks to move in with him and to get her to Malibu on time.

Devi isn’t finished with her character development. Her self-acceptance issues haven’t been completely addressed – it’s now been underlined that a lot of it comes from her mom’s treatment of her as well – but she’s learned, I think, to take a few hesitant steps outside of her own bubble. At the season finale, the person Devi falls a little bit in love with isn’t a terrible mirror version of herself, but Ben Gross—relentlessly challenging and ultimately kind.