#dying was the last decision he made

[trans-xianxian]

I think sometimes the utter tragedy of wei wuxians death is sort of drowned out by the fact that he gets resurrected. even before finishing the show and learning that he finds happiness again, you go into his death scene already knowing that he comes back. which is part of the genius of the story of course but also when you take the entire nevernight sequence and think about it within a reality in which wei wuxian is never resurrected, it presents a new and raw sort of heartbreak

[phoenixcatch7]

Just got all the memories.... Brb I'm going to curl up and cry now. My girl...........

[musical-chick-13]

A really irritating thing is I do have some criticisms of season 8, because I have criticisms of ALL pieces of TV. (For example, I’ve definitely talked briefly before about how they bungled the ending of Mel’s arc and my conflicting feelings on Theon dying.) There are some other things I’d wished they explored. But I can’t say any of these things, because when I try to talk with ANYONE about the show out in the world, every ounce of energy and every second of time has to be spent explaining why I didn’t hate season 8 as a whole and don’t think the show itself has retroactively been turned into trash because of it.

[hopelessromantic-ghost]

i think at this point i have to add lee as a familial fave but 😭 seeing any media of him ever just makes me so sad

[onika-t-maraj]

…

[chuluoyi]

heartbreak hotel

- gojo satoru x reader

so you're going on a three-day-two-night getaway trip with the one and only Gojo Satoru. the catch? you two have just broken up.

genre/warnings: crack, jealousy, a dose of pettiness, hurt/comfort, fluff, zero angst i promise, suguru being a good buddy to his boyfriend best friend

notes: inspired by a very real life story :))) anyways, it takes place in an au where suguru never left and all is well with our little meow meow catoru the wonderful colored manga panel by the talented @redbluenight! this was so much fun to write (that it turned into a whopping 3k+ word, so sorry) and i even made a playlist while on it ;)

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

"He's intolerable!"

There were many things that led to the end of your relationship with Gojo Satoru, but if asked one word to sum it, then that was it.

When you started this thing with him, obviously you had never planned on how it would end―who started a relationship with that sort of mindset anyway? But if you could choose, you definitely wouldn't want it to end with dramatic shouting match that left you in tears.

Anyways, some things were just not meant to be. You refused to spend your whole life crying over that smug bastard, and so you moved on.

However, if there's one thing you've learned about plans, it is that whenever you already make a foolproof one, the world always has some funny way to mess it up.

Like this time.

"I... I remembered saving for months," you stammered dumbly, staring blankly at Shoko in front of you. The realization felt like a spiritual ascent. "I paid for that damn plane ticket and hotel with my whole saving. I can't just throw them away."

How could you possibly forget about this? This graduation trip that had been planned between your group of Satoru, Suguru, Shoko and yourself for months now. It was meant to be a getaway, a celebration of your most significant achievement after four years of barely getting by on exorcising curses and not dying in the process. This was supposed to be the ultimate milestone celebration in your life.

"Then don't," Shoko replied simply, twisting the cigarette in her mouth. "I'm still going though. No way I'm wasting that money."

"But!" you vehemently hissed. "He will be there. It means I have to see him for three days straight!"

Your cringeworthy breakup happened just barely a week ago. You had sworn in front of Gojo Satoru that you didn't want to see his face again, and yet in less than a week from now, you and him would literally share the same space―again?

"Can't I get a refund?"

"This late? Nah, it's like yay or nay at this point."

You slumped in frustration. Were the gods making you swallow your own words now? You were left with no other choice. Your frugality and tendency to get broke often compelled you to make the decision.

You were going on this trip whether he was there or not.

Meanwhile, on his end, the said smug bastard was brooding, groaning and pacing over the same predicament. Satoru had two options and had weighed them all, and somehow he still arrived at the more seemingly no-good decision.

"I'm going, duh!"

"You are?" Suguru asked with a hint of surprise in his voice. "Well, might be the first time I've seen someone agree to go on an overnight trip with his ex..."

"Hmph. I just don't like squandering money."

Suguru snorted, unimpressed. “Satoru, you have an entire fortune. The airfare is just an amount you'd donate to charity. Besides, you have wasted more than that.”

“Well, I want to enjoy my youth too! I’m going—who cares if she’ll be there!”

He was still miffed, recalling the day your argument spiraling out of control. How could you say those hurtful things to him?

“You never take things seriously—heck, I’m not even sure if you’re ever taking me seriously at all! Satoru, you’re always acting all high and mighty, but you’re just a selfish little twat!”

No way. The last time, he was left in the dust, not being able to say anything in his defense. So now, he would use this chance to be the one who had the last laugh. He was going, because he was 70% sure that you wouldn’t let your hard-earned money go to waste.

And he was right when two days later, he found you at the airport with a bitter scoff upon seeing him.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he moistened his lower lip in that obnoxious way. “Missed me?”

You walked past him, tone lacing with disdain. “Get lost, Gojo.”

He couldn’t help the prickling sensation in his chest when you dismissed him just like that. And the use of his last name—whereas you used to call him with all sort of available pet names? Now that was just low.

“Nah, you can’t get away from me that easily, Y/N,” Satoru sniggered. “You’re going to see me for the next three days, so suck it up and enjoy the sight,” and then the idiot proceeded to pump his fist in the air. “Wooo! Kyushu, here I go!”

Suguru and Shoko merely observed your icy interactions in silence, occasionally exchanging glances from time to time.

ITINERARY ::: DAY 1 — BEACH DAY @ SEASIDE HOTEL

After the three-hour flight, the four of you arrived at Karatsu, one of the main highlights in your trip—or back then, one you and Satoru handpicked yourselves.

You swore you still had your heart frozen for him, so you didn’t know what stirred it when you saw him giggling and doubling over in carefree delight, surrounded by those beach girls in skimpy bikinis.

“Hey, handsome~ is this even okay?” one of the girls in pink thong scooted closer to him, asking him with this cheap seductive grin. “Won’t your girlfriend be mad?”

At that moment, you could’ve sworn Satoru threw you a glance from the corner of his eye before replying with a triumphant bark. “What girlfriend? I’m wholly and happily single!”

The hell?

A rush of squeals grated your nerves as they swarmed your ex-boyfriend, prompting you to stalk away in irritation.

Absolutely not. You wouldn’t let this fine establishment be your heartbreak hotel any longer.

Gojo Satoru knew fully that he was petty. He let you see that on purpose just to rile you up, because frankly, he still felt like he didn’t deserve your messy breakup at all.

But when you were no longer in his eyesight, suddenly the urge to entertain these strangers dissipated, and what remained was this hollow sensation in his chest. You not paying him attention somehow made him crave it all the more.

He recalled how you pointed out that playing in the clear waters would be your ideal graduation gift. He specifically recommended this place himself and you had agreed. He remembered planning all of this, dragging Suguru and Shoko too just to make it merrier. To keep that cute smile on your face.

You were supposed to fool around with him in the clear waters of Matsubara Beach, splashing and pulling him underwater.

And yet in reality, he was toying with these questionable women and in your eyes, he was nothing but an irritable twat.

He didn’t see you again until evening, during dinner time. And the sight before him made him want to pull Suguru to the side and trap him inside his unlimited void.

"Really?" Your clear voice rang in his ears, every bit the same as when you would energetically question him with those doe eyes of yours, as you peered at Suguru. "We should go together tomorrow then!"

His eyes twitched.

What has his life come to? Reduced into seeing his ex-girlfriend possibly going on a date with his best friend?

He almost hoped that you'd stage up your pettiness level. It was worse because unlike him, you didn't make this up just to gauge his reaction.

That night, in their shared hotel room, he ignored Suguru completely, as well as silently waiting for him to divulge where he and you were going tomorrow.

"Hey Satoru—"

"Shut up, I'm trying to sleep."

It was obviously a wrong move, because Suguru apparently caught the hint and stayed quiet as a mouse throughout the night.

ITINERARY ::: DAY 2 — HOT SPRING @ KUMAMOTO

Or at least, last he remembered, that was the agenda.

Until he saw that only Shoko who was there, idling around at the hot spring area.

"Where are the others? Why is it only you here?"

She shrugged. "Geto said he's going to try the local specialties. Dunno where. As for me, I'm going to enjoy this onsen to the fullest."

Shoko noticed his irritated scowl, and a sly grin crept across her face.

"Heh, jealous much now, Gojo?"

Meanwhile, you and Suguru went to various dessert shops in town as per his invitation. Perhaps he took pity on you because you really seemed not to be having any fun at all after you stormed off from the beach area yesterday.

"Mmm! This is tasty!" you remarked, munching away the three-colored dango happily. You were so engrossed in eating today that you no longer had any room to think about anything else, which was a good thing.

Suguru smiled. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself now." However, he appeared to have something on his mind, prompting you to hum and tilt your head in curiosity.

"No, it's just... so it's really over between you and Satoru?"

You let out a snort. "Yeah. Totally. He's an ass."

"He really is miserable, you know..."

"Nah, he doesn't look like it."

Your friend sighed. "Honestly, what was the argument even about? Both of you usually didn't take it this far."

You didn't want to go back to that topic, really. But Suguru was always the one with cooler head, and after his kindness today, maybe you could spare him a detail or two.

"It's a lot of little things that have piled up, you know," you mumbled. "It's probably just how he is, and I know. But I finally reached my boiling point. Why can't he try to see things from my perspective? Everything that's important to me doesn't seem to matter to him, and relationships need two people, not just one who resigns and the other who does anything he pleases."

And until now, you doubted if Satoru even realized what he did wrong. That was what hurt you the most. Like you were so small in his eyes, like he could toy with you and get away with it.

As you expected, Suguru would understand your point. "So that's how you feel... Yeah, I think I get it."

You thought he would end it at that, but then he went on. "I'm not defending him, Y/N. I think some time away from you would do him good, but later, maybe you can talk this to him? See if he will understand?"

"I already did, so many times." You narrowed your eyes at him. "Not to offend you, but it awfully seems like you're defending him, Suguru, despite you saying otherwise."

"I'm saying this because sometimes we can forget that Satoru is different," he explained sympathetically, and to be honest, you were surprised by his statement. "He is born exalted. He has a hard time comprehending things that come to us naturally. I just think it's a pity if... you can actually fix this, but just because bad communication, you lose the chance to."

Have you properly communicated this to him? Now that you thought about it, most of the times you would just get mad and point at the little things he missed, but never actually told him how it made you feel.

Your mind was still muddled with the fact Suguru had shed light on even after you got back to ryokan where you were staying for the night. The two of you were in for a surprise though as apparently there was a festival happening there.

Everything seemed to spark with glitters. The bamboo lanterns, lights, the gentle breeze. It created an undeniably romantic ambiance, to be honest.

You didn't know when Suguru slipped away, but suddenly, you found yourself alone amidst the visitors and dim lights.

And you found yourself to be immensely lonely.

Satoru spotted you in all your solitary glory amidst the sea of people in this godforsaken place.

No, actually it was a pretty great inn and attraction, but this trip had been horrible so far, and so he just felt everything was bad.

But at that moment, bitterness no longer clouded his mind, because you were so beautiful, bathed in the glow of the lights that Shoko had forcibly dragged him to see. If it were up to him, he'd spend the last night sleeping his heartbreak away, but now that he was here, he was thankful to see the dazzling sight of you that reminded him once again just what made him hopelessly in love with you.

And why he didn't get his sorry ass back into your good graces faster.

He retraced everything had brought both of you to this point. Your last fight was about what again? Him not telling you any news when he would be back from a mission?

No matter how he thought about it, it was a trivial matter. So what made you mad? He kept thinking, and then he imagined switching places with you. What if you didn't text him at all for three days straight? How would he feel? Oh, he would be despondent, of course.

Now he was starting to understand. He had done that so many times he could no longer keep count. Granted, you would be angry.

Satoru suddenly know how to rectify this. He can make things right. He would be damned if he didn't. He just had to pull you aside, and he was going to when he lost sight you in the crowd.

Okay, now he was frantic, as the longer he didn't see you, the more his opportunity to make amends slipped away. He moved through the crowd, pushing people in the process, earning ire and questionable glares and yet he cared none for it.

He nearly cursed at how his phone kept vibrating incessantly inside his pocket. Begrudgingly, he took it out and almost gasped.

You are calling him.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

It was so incredibly stupid. You just went to pee for a bit and then somehow got yourself locked in the toilet. It might have been fine, but then the lights unexpectedly went out, scaring the shit out of you.

How could such a upscale inn experience a sudden power outage and have doors that wouldn't budge? It was worse when no matter how many times you punched the switch or banged the door, it refused to turn on or open.

You were trapped. Honestly, it took everything you had not to cry.

And so you did the next best thing aside from forcing your way out. You called your friends. First, Shoko, and then Suguru, but both of them somehow didn't pick up the call even after you had called them three times each.

That left you with one possible person left. In your frenzied mind, it didn't even register in your mind what you were doing as the line connected and the last person you'd call on the other side answered.

"Satoru," you shakily breathed out, almost crying—or were you already? You didn't know as you focused on his sharp intake of breath, most likely surprised at how rattled you sound.

"Y/N? What? What is it?"

"I—" you wheezed, hating how helpless you sounded, yet still forced the words out. "I'm locked, it's dark—and it's just so—help! Help me please! I tried getting Shoko but she didn't—"

"Okay, sweetheart, calm down. Calm down, okay?" Satoru's voice brought you some comfort and it helped to reduce your tears, missing how he slipped up by calling you with his usual pet name for you. "Tell me. Where are you?"

"The women's restroom… I think it’s in the east wing."

"I'm coming, okay? Don't panic. I'll be there. Just stay on the line."

You heard his ragged breaths as he muttered several "coming through!" and "excuse me!" from where he was. It made your heart lurch. Despite the spiteful breakup, he rushed to your aid as soon as he realized you were in some kind of trouble.

Was this okay, to let your relationship end just like that?

"I'm outside." And then you heard his voice, much to your relief. "Y/N? Are you there?"

"Yes!" you shouted over the steel door.

You then heard how he rummaged to get the door open, and faintly hear him cursing it. "It won't open."

You wanted to sob, but then Satoru told you with an absolute tone, sounding so sure and demanding that compelled you to comply. "Get away from the door. As far as possible. Take cover."

Oh God, was he going to do what you thought he might do?

...he did. The next thing you knew, the door—and much more than that—was destroyed, and a rush of cursed energy was everywhere. After the blast subsided, you instinctively made a run for it, and you didn't know how, but you ended up stumbling into him.

Satoru caught you in his firm embrace.

"It's okay. You're okay," he cooed, whispering in your ear gently, urging your shivering body to calm down. "You're safe now, Y/N... I'm here. You're safe."

There was always something about your trembling form that made him want to tear down everything and anything in his path just to make you feel secure. And there was always this sense of rightness whenever you snuggled in his arms. Both desires clashed in a contrasting need and want and Satoru could do nothing but keep you close to him, torn between the two.

He kept his hand on your spine, and you clung on him, burying your face in his broad, sturdy chest.

Nevermind the fact that you technically broke up with him. Nevermind that ever since this botched trip started, it was the first occasion in which the two of you held a proper conversation without spewing bravado or sarcasm.

Afterwards, he led you away from the site, and he figured it would be best to go somewhere quieter rather than the festival, and so here you were, at the deserted lounge.

You had calmed down for the most part, and slowly you felt heat in your cheeks. In hindsight, you could've tried using cursed energy to blast the door too, why didn't you think of that earlier?

And yet, unaware of your internal musings, Satoru's thoughts were occupied with another matter entirely, and blame it on his insensitivity—he chose this moment to drop it without hesitation.

"I want you back," he declared, void of any hesitation. "I'll be better, I promise. Those things you hate—tell me, and I'll make sure not to repeat them again."

He wasn't the sharpest when it came to picking up on your feelings, but Satoru vowed that if it bothered you that much, then he would do his best to avoid doing it.

But you... you were still trying your best to grasp the situation. Amidst the plot twist you just experienced tonight, his blatant proclamation was the last thing you expected so you only managed a "What?"

He held your gaze, eerily serious. “I don’t want to break up. It’s hell. We can—I can still fix this.”

He looked sincere, unlike the usual empty promises he’d give you after you went off on him. And suddenly, you understood.

“…really?”

“Yeah. Just give me another chance. I’ll prove it to you,” Satoru said, visibly impatient now. “I won’t give you up. This literally is the fight of my life right now.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, despite yourself. If there was anything that you had learned tonight, it was that apparently you and him were still salvageable.

“And how will you prove it?”

“Just so you wait and see, sweets. I’m gonna relight your feelings!”

It was beyond corny that he took a line from your favorite song. And both of you burst into a laughter at the sheer silliness of it.

You sighed, but this time of relief, in stark contrast to your earlier sighs that afternoon. You were giddy as a smile perched on your lips. “Fine. Let’s give this another shot.”

Satoru felt the tension in his shoulder melt with your answer. A genuine, wide smile emerged from the bottom of his heart and lit up his face.

“Now, this whole trip has been kind of terrible so far, don’t you think?” He made a brief pouty face for a moment before reverting to his mischievous grin His remarkable expressiveness—reminiscent of a child's, in your opinion—never ceased to fascinate you. “I have a pretty good idea where we should go next.”

You furrowed your brow in confusion. “What do you mean? Tomorrow’s our last day.”

“No freaking way!” he exclaimed, whipping out his phone to launch the travel agency app. “We are going to redo our graduation trip. This time just the two of us!”

There were many things that led to the end of your relationship with your dork of a boyfriend, but as you reflected on it, you realized that there were also many reasons for you to stay together, especially when he reached for your hand and held it firmly in his grasp.

You were unable to contain your excitement and bubbling with melodious giggles that he adored so much as he whisked you away from Kumamoto in favor of the last bullet train to Kyoto, where your long-awaited true vacation would begin.

Epilogue

“I told you this was a horrible idea. I fucking told you.”

"Can you blame me? Dude was about to throttle me in my sleep."

"Geto," Shoko scowled, her disbelief at his simple answer evident as she gestured wildly with both hands towards the wrecked lavatory, emphasizing her point. "Look—now that he had gone and done it, we're the ones footing the bill for the destruction of property!"

Gojo had blasted the washroom with a freaking Red. And the innkeeper promptly held both Shoko and Suguru responsible since their roommates were captured on CCTV and had vanished without a trace.

Suguru rubbed his neck sheepishly. "I genuinely thought it was a good idea. I didn't expect Satoru to go overboard though," then he threw her a stink eye. "And hey, you were complicit in this too!"

Shoko mumbled a string of curses as she pulled out her phone, snapping some pictures of the undeniable evidence of Gojo’s doing, and then made a call. Suguru frowned.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm reporting him to the headquarters!"

[ratioaven]

spoilers for 2.1 !!!!!!!

aventurine rant, please keep in my mind that these are my own thoughts and interpretations. im extremely sleep deprived lol so im sorry if i got anything wrong

something thats been on my mind since yesterday are these lines.

from the start to me, it was very clear aventurine had self esteem/worth issues because of how he treats his own life, but the line that says “the other hand is below the table, clutching your chips for dear life” stuck out to me.

i always assumed aventurine was so incredibly confident in his luck but in reality he is afraid. he’s terrified that he’ll lose. it’s an act. he convinces himself, he fools himself, he forces himself to act like he’s confident he’ll win, when in reality even if he does win, he’s still clutching his chips under the table for dear life because of how terrified he is of losing.

that really messed with me to be honest. i feel tricked and what’s ironic is that he tricks his opponents into thinking he’s confident, and he also tricked ME the player but really, this made my heart break in two because i had absolutely no clue up until now.

so why does he act this way

all throughout his life, aventurine has had his pride stripped away. just try to imagine being in his shoes. i myself do not think i could deal with the situations he was put in. i cannot stress this enough, aventurine has a mark on his neck that screams to him that he has once belonged to someone. he has had his pride stripped away from him countless times. but it’s ironic because aventurine is introduced as a very prideful and flashy man. you start to realize the front aventurine puts on is his own way of protecting himself. it’s how he’s able to live basically. i wanna go into more detail but i will later.

as it was said before, aventurine is an uptight person who worries. he is extremely afraid of losing and he has a massive inferiority complex. aventurine may seem like a go lucky person on the outside, but in actuality he is not. he is not happy. he has no self worth, he believes he has nothing to live for, and he has no problem with throwing his life away. aventurine believes the only good thing he brings to the table is his luck.

but this brings me to my next point.

aventurine may not realize it, but he is so much more than his luck. he has so many good qualities and he doesn’t seem to realize it. even if some of it may be an act, he’s still able to pull it off. he’s still an intelligent business man who is both charming and cunning EVEN if it may be an act, those are still amazing qualities to have in his line of work.

but more importantly, aventurine chose to live. despite witnessing his family die, being a slave, and tortured, he chose to live. he chooses to. i cannot stress this enough. this man has gone through hell and back. he truly has had an incredibly difficult life to the point where my heart hurts so so badly for him. he made the decision to stay alive.

that says more than enough about his character.

and last but not least, aventurine wants one thing, and that is to be with his family. he’s witnessed horrible things in his life that no one should ever go through. he lost everyone close to him, he lost his people. he has nothing to live for and he values his life so little to the point where he has no problem with dying. the only real thing that he wants is just to see his family.

and he will one day, but in the meantime, i genuinely hope this man can find a reason to live, and ratio already gave him one just by that note. i just truly wish aventurine happiness while he lives the rest of his life.

i guess this is a topic that really hits me hard because i know all too well that choosing to live life isn’t easy sometimes and i just love aventurine.

let’s all appreciate how truly amazing his character is.

[ozuuoou]

⟡⋆.˚˚₊‧꒰ა ⋆｡°⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Itoshi Rin x Reader

Post argument fluff

———————————————————————————————————————

"Why are you so clingy? Get lost, disappear for all I care."

Those were the last words you heard before your fiancé walked out of your shared home, heading to who knows where.

⋆.˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚⊹ ࣪ ˖

Hearing those sharp words made you feel as if your heart was stabbed a million times. As a result, you chose to sleep on the couch.

As you lay on the couch, engulfed by the dim light of the living room, you couldn't stop the tears from bursting right through your eyes. The scene replaying over and over again made it hurt more than it already did.

To avoid thinking about it more, a decision was made: to sleep. Just as you were about to close your eyes, you hear the front door open and shut, along with the light pads that came from your fiancé seemingly getting closer and closer to where you're at. Not wanting to pay it any mind, you pretended to sleep. Until you feel a pair of eyes staring at you from behind. You were bothered, of course, but chose to close your eyes nonetheless.

A cold gust of wind flew by in the moment of silence until you felt the cushion of the couch dip lower and a pair of hands wrap around you. Surprised, you turned around. "Rin?" you asked. "You sh-" Just as you were about to speak again, you were cut off. "Why sleep here?" Everything went silent for a minute. "I figured I'd sleep here, for space" you replied, hearing this made the teal-eyed man feel more guilty, making him tighten his grip on your waist a bit more.

"You shouldn't be sleeping here. Go to bed; you have a big day tomorrow, remember?" you added, hoping to shake him off. Another wave of silence. After about a minute, he spoke, "Are you still mad? I'm sorry, I didn't mean any of those things. I was just tired and frustrated..." His voice was shaky as he buried his face more into the crook of your neck. "It's okay. I know I can be overly clingy at times. I was just so excited to finally spend time with you, but I guess I overreacted," hearing that reply broke him more, as if you're blaming yourself for something that's his fault. "Now, go to bed; you have to wake up early." He felt that you were uncomfortable, so he unlatched himself and walked away, leaving you alone in the dim room.

After changing his clothes, he went and got ready for bed, and fuck, was it cold and lonely. "So this is what it's like," he mumbled as he laid down on the cold bed, looking at your spot where it lies cold and empty. Seeing that horrid view made his heart drop to his stomach. Hours passed by as he twisted and turned, trying every possible way to make himself fall asleep. From turning the lamp on and off to making pillow figures of what is assumed to be you (creepy, but let's face it, bro's coping), and unfortunately, none worked. Oh my god, he felt like a Victorian kid dying from a severe illness, laid down on the bed, huffing and sweating with worry. Not wanting to put up with this feeling, he marched downstairs to where you were sleeping, and man, he didn't even spare a second as he immediately jumped to cuddle you, arms around your waist with his head nuzzled in your chest and neck and all. "Goddamn, this is way better," he screamed, mentally, as he inhaled your scent that he oh so missed.

With all the shuffling around, you wake up, feeling a figure trapping you. Readjusting your eyes to the surroundings, you look down to see Rin all snuggled up next to you. You tap his shoulder. "Why are you here? I told you to sleep on the bed..." you say, groggily. To which he replies, "I just can't sleep... I know you're upset, but please, let me sleep with you," as he looks up, his face all teary. "I'm sorry, please don't avoid me... I'll do better. I swear," he adds, tightening his hold around your waist.

Unable to resist such a cute face, you sighed, cupping his face as you peppered kisses on his poor face. "You promise?" you asked, your voice soft, almost a whisper. "Mhm, I promise," he replied, leaning into your touch. "Do you want to go on a date tomorrow," he added. I'd love to, baby, but you're busy tomorrow." "Skipping practice for a day won't hurt," he chuckled. You responded with a hum as you pressed yourself more, burying his face into your neck and chest, to which he let his hands roam under your clothes, rubbing circles on your back while the other sneakily fondled your ass. You chuckled at the response. "How about a little café date after we go grocery shopping?" you asked, and he replied with a muffled hum.

He peeked his head. "We're good now, right?" he asked. "Yeah, we're all good now, baby," to which he smiled and added, "I love you." You replied with the sweetest, "I love you too." Upon hearing that, he nuzzled right back into your chest.

⋆.˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚⊹ ࣪ ˖

Guess who'll be walking on the produce isle with a big smile on his face? Definitely a man named Itoshi Rin.

[mynamesaplant]

Forgiveness is Electric

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Just a little short story about @critterbitter's hc of Emmet, Ingo, and Elesa. This is between the Volume Control and Volume Control (Reprise). Just a tiny change, Emmet caught Tynamo bc I sort of forgot when he did... My bad. Please go take a look at Critter's work, it is beautiful in every sense of the word.

I lied about posting to AO3 last time with Yearning for Wood Floors, but I will update that soon along with this one.

Enjoy!~

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“I do not think she will like those.”

“Who doesn’t love sweets?”

Ingo argued, plucking a box of Snom-Caps and turning it over and over in his hands. He contemplated the choices of candy in the aisle, the teenage clerk puffing their long, purple-streaked hair from their eyes behind the counter as the two children agonized over their decision. The clerk, Dakota, saw Ingo and Emmet in here all the time, the former had something of a sweet tooth and the latter… Well, whatever the opposite of a sweet tooth was, that was Emmet. The kid just loved sour things.

It wasn’t unusual to see them, but it didn’t usually take this long for them to make their selection. They had been there for nearly fifteen minutes, painstakingly reading each and every label and discussing them in hushed undertones. That was unusual by itself. Ingo was not known for his volume control.

Although unusual, they weren’t worried about them doing anything shady like stealing or being careless and knock things off the shelf. Might as well let them go about their business. To pass the time, they watched the fretful newly acquired Tynamo circle around them faster and faster until Emmet snatched the Pokémon deftly from the air and soothingly stroked its back.

“I am Emmet. We do not know what she likes.”

“We must do something! I just feel so dreadful.”

Emmet could see Ingo working himself up over this, just as he had a few hours ago, and Emmet placed a reassuring hand on his brother’s arm. His smile and eyes softened as his twin turned to him, Ingo’s eyes glittering with emotion and whatever proclamation dying on the back of his tongue.

He hadn’t meant it. He really hadn’t. He always got too loud when he was excited.

It had just backfired on him horribly.

Ingo cringed even now as he remembered the tears in her eyes, her hands slapped over her ears, and eyes huge with confusion and pain. She had run off before he could even apologize, and that knowledge was eating him alive all day.

Candy wouldn’t fix this. In his heart of hearts, he knew that, and maybe he had come here to grab himself some of his favorite snacks to ease the pain of losing a potential friend.

It was hard for them to understand others. Emmet and Ingo were so in-sync with each other that everyone seemed to be moving so much slower by comparison. It was like playing charades with someone who was underwater, the twins made perfect sense to one another, but it was unclear to everyone else.

This was not new to them, but it didn’t make it any less frustrating.

With their moms being busy with work and their uncle who didn’t have much interest with them most times, Emmet and Ingo came to rely on each other almost exclusively. Drayden would give them a little bit of pocket change, but never much. They had to be ultraconservative with what he gave them and had taken it upon themselves to run around Anville Town to take little odd jobs.

Leaves to rake? Oran berries to pick? Snow to shovel?

Emmet and Ingo did it all and saved what they could. They barely scraped together the money to purchase the Pokéballs needed to catch Tynamo and for additional balls to try and catch Ingo a starter.

Even though they knew everyone, they weren’t really close to anyone in town.

That could have been different if Ingo hadn’t ruined everything!

“Perhaps sweets are not the solution…”

Ingo finally admitted, setting the box down and rising to his feet. Readjusting his cap on his head and dusting off his knees to unconsciously tidy his appearance, Ingo’s frown deepened in thought. Even if he and Emmet apologized to her, Miss Elesa would not understand them. Drat! If only he had remembered her hearing aids, he had completely forgotten them tucked behind her black hair.

Emmet watched his face scrunch up, clearly having a long inner dialogue with himself where he alternatively berated himself and told himself that there was no crying over spilled milk. Gray eyes scanning the shelf, he took a bag of sour gummy-Bewear for himself, and chocolate covered pretzels for his brother, before hauling them to the counter where Dakota waited.

Tynamo drifted just below his elbow, still quite nervous around new people and often retreating to its ball when too anxious. Emmet’s soft encouragement was the only thing keeping the EleFish out while Dakota rang up both bags.

“Tynamo? Good for you, kiddo. I hear they’re not easy to catch.”

They rested their elbows on the counter, chin resting atop with a kind smile to the quieter twin. Dakota could see him beaming with pride, but he merely nodded, shuffling on the spot while he fished in the pocket of his overalls for some money. His Tynamo, like its trainer, seemed a little bashful at their words, and retreated into its ball.

“200… I think you brother is comatose over there.”

Dakota said not unkindly. Emmet jerked his head to where his brother stood motionless in front of the candy.

“Ingo!”

It was Ingo’s turn to jerk out of his, as Dakota had put it, “comatose state”. He trotted over to his side, staring at the bags of candies with confusion before it all seemed to click into place.

“You did not have to spend your pocket money on me.”

Emmet’s smile softened at the bashful note in his sibling’s voice. He wanted to. Ingo was feeling down, his twin often overthinking problems and burning himself out in the process. Emmet liked to take a step back to listen and reflect on people and conversations. A little break would do Ingo some good, so he insisted on the treats.

“I am Emmet. I wanted to. Yup!”

While Dakota bagged their treats in a small brown paper bag, they couldn’t help but lean over the counter to examine them. Although many people didn’t understand the secret code that the twins exchanged between glances, mouth twitches, and hand movements, Dakota could tell something was awry. Withholding the bag, they leaned over the counter with a faintly curious expression and a light tone.

“You guys alright?”

Unsurprisingly, the two exchanged looks, and a wordless conversation was held between them while Dakota waited. It was Ingo who swiveled his head back to face them, his face knit into a calculating grimace that seemed a little less friendly than usual, but only marginally.

“Yes,” he said slowly, eyes not breaking with the clerk, but they could see him shifting uncomfortably. “Emmet and I are attempting to right a wrong. However, we are encountering several roadblocks.”

There is a pause. Dakota still held the bag just out of reach as they gnawed on their lower lip. This wasn’t really their business, and they weren’t the type to stick their nose in where it didn’t belong… They thought of Drayden, who spent a lot of time in Opelucid and not watching his nephews – he barely spent any time with them.

They’re just kids.

“Do you need some help? It’s my job to help customers in the store y’know.”

Another pause. Another exchange of glances.

“I-” Ingo tries to being, already hard pressed to say anything and even less so when his sibling elbowed him in the ribs and shot him a look. He wouldn’t be allowed to take all the blame. “We upset one of our classmates with our carelessness. We think she was attempting to befriend us, but- uh… there were a few errors on our part.”

“And you’re trying to get candy for her to forgive you?”

“We thought about it, but it grew too complicated. We do not know what candy she likes, but more importantly, we do not think it’s a suitable apology.”

The clerk nodded, tapping the counter in thought as they tried to piece together some genuine advice for the boys.

“I think it’s a nice peace offering, but I think an apology would be better.”

“We broke her hearing aids… Yep…”

Emmet croaked suddenly, shrinking back in shame at the same time that Ingo grabbed the brim of his hat to tug it lower over his eyes.

“Ah,” Dakota hummed, tapping the counter even faster. They meant the new family that moved in from Sinnoh. They remembered their dads talking about the new signs that had to go all over town for the girl’s safety. Dakota couldn’t remember her name. “How did you break them?” They asked, already knowing the answer.

“Volume control.”

Ingo cringed, remembering his uncle’s warning about his naturally loud voice. Inside voice, Drayden had been emphasizing, and Ingo was trying to take those words to heart, but it was difficult. Since Ingo’s face didn’t emote well, he relied on his voice and his movement to articulate his emotions to others. They nod sympathetically.

“You didn’t see them?”

“No…”

The boy was squirming now, his shame and embarrassment with the situation reaching an all-time high. He felt Emmet moving to his side, reassuringly pressing against his arm, and resting his head on his twin’s shoulder. A flood of comfort helped Ingo release a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

Behind the counter, the clerk was rummaging through something – although tall for their age, Emmet and Ingo couldn’t see what they were doing. They heaved a box onto the counter, tipping it so the contents spilled out for them to see, and the boys were confused.

“Headphones?”

Emmet leaned forward on his tiptoes to look at the colorful array of boxes that ranged from normal headphones to ones that had Pikachu and Eevee ears topping them.

“Yeah, uh, maybe if she wears these, you’ll remember right away that she has headphones in.”

It was a half-baked idea. In truth, Dakota felt a bit sheepish about it now that the idea was out of their head, but when they looked up, the boys were beaming – well, Emmet beamed. Ingo reminded of them of their friend’s Purrloin in a way they couldn’t quite put their finger on.

“Bravo! What a marvelous suggestion!”

Ingo practically cheered, stepping beside Emmet to look through the headphones. It was probably going to cost them a bit from the tags on the boxes, but it would be worth it. The headphones would immediately remind Ingo that she had hearing aids in so he would be more inclined to get Miss Elesa’s attention in a different fashion, but it also might do the same for others who were unaware of her deafness.

“Sure – er, thank you…” Dakota was looking at the prices now and mentally smacked their forehead. They probably couldn’t afford the headphones. “I’ll-” They hesitate. It almost pained them to say what they were going to next. “I’ll pay for them so you can take them to her now.” The twins’ eyes went wide, both about to protest when Dakota interrupted, “In exchange, you can do a few chores for me at my place. I need to do some yardwork, but it always gives me hay fever. Sound like a deal?”

The answer was easy for them. Dakota told them to pick ones that they thought Miss Elesa would like.

“I think these ones are quite dashing.”

Ingo said, picking up the box with the Pikachu ears. Emmet pursed his lips and shook his head.

“Nope. Too big. Not a gamer girl.”

They continued to rummage through the boxes. They agreed that she must like Electric types. She had a Blitzle as her partner after all.

“I cannot recall, she is from Hoenn, correct?”

Emmet shrugged, unsure himself because they had both been looking through a magazine with an expose on the newest train lines running out of Nimbasa when she had been introduced. That just meant to them that, when the time came, going on their Pokémon journey by rail would be all the easier.

“Not sure.” He looked at the box Ingo had in his hand and his smile broadened, nodding in agreement to his brother’s unasked query. The perfect balance of subtle but stylish. “I am Emmet. Those are perfect.”

Plusle and Minun headphones.

[cherienymphe]

I Know What You Did Last Summer (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATHS, MURDER, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP, MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, BLOOD, KNIFEPLAY, STALKING, ANGST, voyeurism, underage drinking, JJ x reader, pogue!reader

➥ Happy Halloween weekend!

➥ banner by @maysdigitalarts​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ ​​​​​​​​|  ➥ divider by @/kimjiho1

summary: When your friends start dying one by one, you're not exactly honest when the police ask if you know of anyone who'd want to hurt them. You do...but he's dead. You know this because you buried him.

~

You stared out into the water, a rare morning in which you woke up early enough to watch the sun rise over Outer Banks. This time last year, you might’ve tried to catch a wave or two, a way for you to often escape and clear your head. However, the problems of last year were gone and there was nothing left for you to escape from.

No one left for you to escape from.

Your gaze fell to the dock beneath your feet, eyes glazing over as memories of a tumultuous relationship plagued your thoughts. The memory of bruised skin and aching limbs made you shudder, wrapping your arms around yourself, the cool North Carolina breeze having nothing to do with it. You tensed for half a second at the sound of a familiar voice on the wind before realizing that you were only imagining it as you often did these days.

Some days you thought you were going crazy, but then you reminded yourself that no sane person could do what you did and walk away with no baggage whatsoever. Then again, it could be argued that no sane person could do what you did period. Thoughts of that night left a sour taste in your mouth, and for the past year, you constantly worried if you did the right thing. It didn’t matter if you did or didn’t because it wasn’t like you could take it back, but still…

Analyzing your past decisions made you feel less like a sociopath or something.

When you heard your mom calling you from the house, you pulled yourself away from the water. Your dad was just heading out for work, and he exchanged a quick hug with you on the way to his truck. You could tell that your 180 within the past year stumped them, but it was in that good way that always sparked a bunch of compliments—you’re so much happier or you’re talking more or you’re around a lot more.

The difference was noticeable to anybody who knew you…and everyone knew why.

Even if they didn’t want to say it.

“You know I leave for work in a little bit, but I put some bacon in the oven, and I just wanted you to know so you could take it out.”

You smiled at her, leaning against the counter.

“We’ll see how long it lasts once JJ gets here,” you told her.

Your tone was mocking, but you both knew you were entirely serious. After telling her that you might be staying at Kie’s tonight, you bid her goodbye, gaze focused on the oven as you checked the bacon. You knew it wouldn’t be long before half of your friends burst through that door, and so you didn’t hesitate to take it out the moment it looked like it was done.

It was when you were placing the pan on the stove top…when you heard it.

It was a light thump that came from the back of the house, and you paused with a frown. It was hardly anything—could’ve easily been a limb falling out of a tree or something—if it wasn’t for the fact that it sounded like it came from inside of the house. Your frown deepened the longer you stood there, listening some more without success. With reluctance, you wrote it off, and you only just relaxed when you felt hands on your shoulders.

“Jesus!”

You pressed your hand to your chest, frowning over your shoulder as both a familiar blond and brunette made themselves comfortable at your table. You hadn’t even heard them pull up, oblivious even to the door opening.

“No, JJ,” the voice behind you corrected with a chuckle, and you rolled your eyes.

“Hilarious,” you commented. “I didn’t even hear you guys come in.”

“Kind of figured when you grabbed your chest just then,” Sarah said with a small smile. “What were you looking at, anyway?”

Her question reminded you of the noise, and realizing that it was probably them you heard, you shrugged.

“Thought I heard something, but it was just you guys.”

By now, JJ had joined them, leaning back in a chair.

“You’re still coming to Rose’s little ‘fall festivity’ right? Somehow Wheezie got out of going by talking our dad into letting her go to a sleepover instead, and I don’t really wanna be alone.”

Her words quieted some near the end, a brief awkward silence as your eyes met hers, both of you ignoring the obvious.

“Of course,” you assured her. “I told my mom I’d probably be staying at Kie’s since it’s closer to your house. Knowing Rose, this thing could go on all night.”

Sarah agreed with that, interrupting John B and JJ’s conversation.

“You can still change your mind, you know,” she told him with a pout, bumping his shoulder with her own.

The face he made was answer enough, and she huffed.

“Besides, even if I wanted to, I’m sure Ward would be thrilled about that,” her boyfriend mumbled.

“You know he’s better, now. He’s not so against you ever since…”

Your best friend trailed off, and your gaze found the floor just as all of theirs traveled to you. The silence was short—not so much awkward—but definitely far from light. You all knew what Sarah was going to say, how Ward stopped caring about so many superficial things. How he was the kind of man who focused on things that actually mattered, now.

He was the kind of man who carried grief, now.

…and it changed him for both the better and the worst.

“I’m going to go and grab my purse and change of clothes. Bacon’s all yours,” you mostly said to JJ, quick to leave the room.

Once inside your room, your eyes landed on your mirror, gaze lingering on the bare space where dozens of pictures used to be. It had been a little over a year since you’d taken them down, but sometimes, when you recalled the happier times before it all went up in flames, you missed them. You missed looking at them when you did your makeup or even just lingering on them when you were on the phone.

Chest aching for so many reasons, you forced yourself to turn away.

It was as you were grabbing your purse and the extra bag with your dress for tonight did you glance up. You blinked at your window, a small frown forming between your brows. Approaching it, you reached out, slowly pulling it back down and locking it shut, desperately trying to remember if you’d even let it up the night before.

“I swear to God, Rose is about to lose her shit,” Sarah chuckled from next to you. “She bought that dress months ago for this stupid party only for her to show up wearing the same one.”

You sipped on your drink that you were definitely not supposed to be having, a light laugh of your own escaping. The little soiree was everything Sarah said it would be, and you could see why Wheezie took the opportunity to bail. It wasn’t Halloween yet, but like every year—or almost every year—Rose was having a series of parties leading up to the last night in October. You were just about to drag Sarah to the kitchen in search of those little finger sandwiches when a loud clanging noise caught everyone’s attention.

Ward stood in the center of the living room when you looked over.

The older man had a glass in his hand and was setting down a fork with the other. You couldn’t get over how much he’d changed in a year, and something in your chest ached, guilt eating at you. There was a small smile on his lips, but the rest of his expression didn’t exactly match up. Somehow, you knew that you weren’t going to like whatever he had to say.

“Um…sadly, we weren’t blessed to partake in one of Rose’s fabulous get togethers last year…”

You swallowed at the way the mood in the room seemed to sink, and you didn’t need to look over to find Sarah glancing at you.

“As you all know, my only son Rafe went missing around this time a year ago.”

Somber murmurs filled the room, and your hand tightened on your drink. Tuning Ward out, the only thing you heard was white noise, probably missing another tangent about how he wished he’d been less hard on him and had done more to heal their relationship before he had to file that missing person’s report that fateful morning.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you fought to keep a frown off of your face.

Memories of dark blond hair and intense blue eyes plagued your mind, making your stomach turn. If Ward’s memories with Rafe were less than fond, then yours were absolutely gut-wrenching. The hairs on your arm stood on end as you thought about the last time you’d seen your ex-boyfriend, and you felt your feet carrying you down the stairs just as Sarah reached for you.

The backyard was empty when you made it outside, and the fresh air did so little to calm you down.

You could hear the blood rushing in your ears at the thought of Rafe, a cold chill passing through you. With a huff, you stepped out of your heels, tears kissing your eyes as you thought about Ward in there giving some grand speech about Rafe and their relentless efforts to find him. You were pulled out of it by the sound of your name, and you wiped your face, oblivious to the fact that some tears had even spilled over.

Sarah’s sympathetic gaze met yours when you turned around.

“Are you okay…?” she whispered, and you sniffed.

“What do you think?” you lightly wondered, a humorless chuckle escaping as you shrugged. “Who knew that a felony was all it took for Rafe to finally get the love he always wanted.”

Your words were scathing, and Sarah slowly approached you, reaching for you.

“Hey…hey,” she repeated until you looked at her. “You’re safe, now. Rafe can’t ever hurt you ever again.”

While those words brought you comfort, they did nothing to diminish your anger.

“It’s not…fair,” you breathed, shaking your head. “He was nothing short of a monster to me…and they talk about him, now, like he was some angel come to earth.”

You knew it bothered Sarah too—she was there that night after all—and she sighed. The blonde pulled you into a hug, holding you tight and rubbing your back. You sometimes wondered if her feelings on the matter were as black and white as yours. Rafe was her brother, after all, and despite their less than enviable relationship, she had to have still loved him.

“Do you think they’ll ever find him?”

You said the words so quietly, as if paranoid someone would hear despite the fact that you were alone. Sarah tensed for half a second, probably because for the first time in months, you were explicitly talking about what you did that night—what all four of you did. She pulled away, gaze somber and resolved all at once.

“It’s been a year,” she said as if that were answer enough. “…turns out the police are even more useless than we all thought.”

You swallowed, and Sarah fought to calm you.

“If they haven’t found him by now then…”

She trailed off with a shrug, but you weren’t so convinced. While plenty of people got away with murder, plenty of others did not, and it didn’t matter that Rafe’s temper had escalated so badly one night until it came down to your life or his. Nobody would care that he used to threaten you and choke you and harm you so bad that you could barely walk sometimes. They wouldn’t care about any of that.

All that would matter was that he was Rafe Cameron, Ward Cameron’s son.

…and you’d killed him.

John B was the first to die.

…and maybe that was why the horrible truth didn’t even cross your mind then.

Your sleep-addled brain fought hard to make sense of the words pouring out of Cleo’s mouth, and despite how unbelieving they were, the feminine wails you could hear in the background told you they were true whether you wanted them to be or not. Sarah’s choked sobs were the last thing you heard before Cleo was forced to hang up.

You didn’t even remember throwing on clothes, only knowing that you somehow managed to leave the house looking halfway decent.

When you made it to the hospital, Sarah was nowhere to be found.

“She was…” Kie trailed off, shaking her head. “They had to give her something.”

You took in the way Kiara was shaking, and unable to keep standing, she collapsed in a chair. You wanted to ask her what happened, but you could see it on her face that she couldn’t handle that, right now. Her eyes were shiny and glazed over, and she looked like she was going to be sick. She looked like she could barely even breathe.

“What…? I don’t…”

You couldn’t get it out, feeling wholly numb as your gaze met Cleo’s. The dark-skinned girl ran her hands down her face, her own gaze tearful.

“They found him in the water, man.”

Her soft words made your heart sink, and you frowned.

“Said he got tangled up somehow… Drowned.”

At that, you did finally sit down, reaching out to hold the armrest. Somehow, any other cause of death would’ve made it feel less real, preposterous maybe. You just couldn’t see John B. dying at the hands of some asshole or choking on his food or run down like a dog in the street.

…but drowning?

John B. dying in the water—a place he loved and often frequented—made sense.

That you could believe.

“Pope and JJ are on the way,” Kie mumbled so low you almost didn’t hear her.

Nothing about any of this felt real. It was only yesterday that you were talking to John B., tossing a beer at his head after some slick remark. You couldn’t quite process that you’d never be able to do that again. Your best friend was gone. Sarah’s boyfriend was gone, and you wouldn’t see nor talk to him again. It didn’t make sense, and maybe that lack of reason was what kept you numb, kept you staring at the white floors of the hospital until two familiar figures made themselves known.

It wasn’t until your eyes lifted and met JJ’s did it really hit you.

The pain in his face from losing the friend he’d known practically since birth seeped into you too, and you were on your feet before JJ’s legs could fail him. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him tight for both of your sakes, and your tears finally spilled over when you felt JJ’s hitting your skin.

You never really saw JJ cry much—it just wasn’t like him. You didn’t know if that was just the way he was or if he took it upon himself to be the obligatory goofy friend who was almost always in a good mood. Today, however, JJ cried harder than you’d ever seen him, the death of his best friend a thousand times worse than anything Luke could do to him.

He held you like a lifeline, even well into the night when everyone was forced to retreat to their homes, nothing more anyone could do. Even if JJ could find some comfort in his own home, you wouldn’t dare ask him to, feeling that same refusal to be alone. You had only been able to shake your head at your mom when she came to see if you wanted—needed—anything.

You didn’t miss the way her sad and heavy gaze fell to JJ in your arms, the blond boy sobbing into your chest as you held him on your bed.

Neither of you talked for what felt like days. There really wasn’t much to say, anyway. On the off chance that JJ moved, it was purely to use the bathroom or eat something that would keep him off the brink of starvation. You couldn’t really tell if you were handling it better than him or if you were just coping in an equally unhealthy way.

There was just this understanding that grief had kind of taken both of your voices.

JJ leaned on you throughout the entirety of John B.’s funeral, and when your eyes met Pope’s, you shook your head at the silent question in his dark eyes. They flitted to JJ at that, and you weren’t surprised to see them holding each other at the end of the service. John B. was like a brother to both of them, and maybe they could help each other in ways the rest of you couldn’t.

“Why was he out there so late?”

That was what Kie wondered as you all sat at The Chateau, still fighting to understand your new reality without John B. only hours after his funeral.

“We all always go swimming whenever,” you told her, and she shook her head.

“…but never that late…and if so, never alone,” she argued, looking at all of you. “They think he died around one in the morning. There was no alcohol or anything in his system. Why would John B. be out there at one in the morning?”

“What does it matter?” JJ spat, making you flinch. “Why are we sitting here trying to analyze this when John B. is dead? Huh?”

Kie looked taken aback, and you could see her mentally reminding herself that JJ was in pain.

“I’m just saying-.”

“No, I know what you’re trying to do.”

The blond was standing, now, angrily staring down at her.

“Trying to make sense of this, trying to find something or someone to blame because that’s easier to swallow than the truth,” he nastily threw at her. “John B.’s death doesn’t make sense…and sometimes that’s just life.”

He stormed off before anyone could respond, and you swallowed at the sound of his bike starting up. You took Kie’s hand at the sight of her forlorn expression, gently squeezing it and sending her a smile. JJ was angry, probably angrier than any of you, and he wasn’t keen on how Kie was trying to deal with it either. The silence after he left was thick, and you felt almost afraid to speak your mind too, because now that Kie had said it, you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

It didn’t make sense for John B. to be out in the water that late.

You shouldn’t have been surprised when JJ kissed you only a few days after John B.’s funeral, but you were.

You all were grieving, and besides Sarah who hadn’t left her home in days, JJ wasn’t coping well. He was so angry and confused and hurt, and truthfully, you’d just been happy he wasn’t going off on some bender or starting fights. He didn’t exactly grow up with the best example on how to cope with anything, and so when he pressed his lips to yours on your front porch, you could only think that there were worse ways to handle this.

Your breathing was uneven as he ran his hands over you, backing you up into your house. Your parents weren’t home, adulthood stopping for no one in the midst of tragedy, and you held onto JJ to keep from tripping over your own feet. You’d wondered what it’d feel like to kiss JJ sometimes, but only ever in passing, and you could count the number of times on one hand. It was bound to happen at least once or twice when you were friends for as long as you had been.

The kiss was rough but not unenjoyable, and you moaned into his mouth when your back met your couch. To your surprise, you liked the feel of JJ’s body on yours, keeping you trapped between him and the couch, and the blond sighed into the kiss when your fingers ran up his back, dipping beneath his shirt. When his lips ghosted along your jaw, your gaze landed on the ceiling, and you arched your chest up into his. His lips were pressing open mouth kisses to your throat, and when your gaze roamed—landing on the window behind him—you violently flinched.

“What’s wrong-?”

JJ cut his own words off when you sat up, lips parted as you stared at the window.

It was dark, and the longer you stared outside, the sillier you felt. Your heart was racing so fast—much too fast—and for a moment, you were scared you were having a heart attack. You felt overheated, and your skin was fighting to get back to normal instead of clammy. JJ said your name again, and you merely shook your head at him, struggling to stop your hands from trembling and your vision from swaying.

For just a moment, you could’ve sworn that someone was outside and standing right outside of that window. It was brief, quite literally a ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ moment, but it wasn’t solely that that had you fighting to calm down, right now. You reached up, rubbing your chest and blinking back tears, hardly paying attention to JJ’s concern.

The way the person stood—their height, their build, their stance—it was all too familiar.

It looked eerily similar to your ex-boyfriend.

That thought had you standing, and you pressed your hand to your forehead. A few tears escaped without your consent, and you licked your lips, finally admitting to yourself why this whole John B. situation had you numb. The thought of John B. now had your chest aching, and for a brief moment, you weren’t seeing your best friend be lowered into the ground.

It was Rafe.

“Are you okay…?”

You finally acknowledged JJ, and you looked at him with a tearful gaze.

“No, I don’t think I am,” you choked out. “It’s not…it’s not your fault, I promise.”

“I shouldn’t have done that-.”

“No, JJ, it’s okay! You didn’t do anything wrong,” you assured him. “I’m just not handling this as well as I thought I was.”

He seemed to understand that, nodding at you.

The silence wasn’t tense or anything, but it was a little awkward. After all, one moment you and JJ were clearly about to have sex, and now, you couldn’t get rid of the cold chill that came over you. You glanced at the window again, so sure that you’d seen someone there, only looking away when JJ pulled you down to sit with him.

“You know I like you,” he whispered, making your eyes widen a bit. “Well, now you know.”

You blinked at him, oddly thinking that whatever this was tonight was some combination of grief and loneliness and the result of a violent confrontation with his own mortality. JJ ran his hand through his blond locks, sighing.

“First it was the whole Pogue on Pogue thing,” he said to which you snorted, recalling the day Pope and Cleo waltzed into The Chateau holding hands. “…then it was Rafe.”

You looked down at that, tightening your arms around yourself at the mention of your ex.

“Then Rafe went missing, and it didn’t seem right even though you didn’t seem…sad about it.”

You swallowed at that, a wet and muddy night coming to mind.

“…but now my best friend is dead, and I’m scared that if I wait another minute, it’ll be too late.”

Your gaze softened at that, looking at him, and it really didn’t take you long to realize that deep down you’d liked JJ too. You first noticed the feeling after the third or fourth time Rafe had hit you, and you just remembered thinking that JJ would never. You hadn’t lingered on it, but now you were wishing you had. Maybe if you felt like you had a way out, you would’ve left Rafe sooner. The relationship might not have continued.

…and that night never would’ve happened.

With the death of John B., you understood exactly what JJ meant. John B. hadn’t been some old man pushing ninety who lived this long and fulfilling life. He was eighteen, unable to even get the chance to start. It was unexpected and heartbreaking but most of all scary, so when you took the blonde’s hand, you didn’t hesitate to pull him closer, pressing your lips to his.

You had no idea that while taking the first step with JJ into the second relationship you’d ever have, Pope’s body was being dumped in the water.

When you all collectively made the decision the next morning to go and see Sarah, no one thought too much of it when Pope didn’t answer. Sarah was allowed her solitude to grieve, you felt she was owed that, but none of you wanted your friend to deal with this alone for too long. Considering how early it was, everyone just assumed that he was still asleep when you decided to meet up.

JJ—now in the possession of the Twinkie—made the decision to slow down at the sight of so many squad cars near the water. It was strange, and there was a sinking feeling in your stomach that you just couldn’t shake. Outer Banks was not without its fair share of crime, but you’d never had the misfortune of witnessing a coroner’s van pull up to the scene.

“What do you think that’s about?” Cleo wondered.

You spoke without thinking.

“Call Pope again.”

You could feel several pairs of eyes on you as you looked out of the window, and there was a beat of silence before they all reached for their phones at once. That twisted feeling only tightened when none of them got an answer. You didn’t voice your thoughts, partly because you didn’t want to be the one to, but you also didn’t want to make them true, somehow.

…but they were true whether you said them aloud or not.

You’d never been inside of an interrogation room—or Kildare County’s version of one, anyway. You never thought you would be, but in this moment, you were thinking of a lot of things you never thought would be. Shoupe—a man you’d grown used to seeing all your life—handed you a cup of water, and your fingertips only grazed it as it sat on the table.

With the discovery that Pope was now dead too, the numbness you’d felt was forced to crack and shatter. While Cleo had to be restrained and held back from ambushing the crime scene, you’d been unable to keep upright, collapsing right there on the side of the road. The entire gruesome debacle had attracted a crowd. After all, Outer Banks just wasn’t used to this, and several people tried to help you remain conscious—namely JJ.

You didn’t even remember breaking down, didn’t even remember being approached by the cops. You actually could barely remember a thing after witnessing a familiar body being pulled from the murky water. You knew that you cried, had to, because your eyes were tight. You knew that you screamed because your throat was raw. You knew these things because of how you felt…not because you actually remembered any of it.

Shoupe’s sigh made you blink, and instead of laying on the side of that road, you were surrounded by four walls.

“Do you know of…anyone who’d want to hurt Heyward’s son?”

His words gave you pause, and you lifted your gaze with a deep frown.

“…what?” you choked out after some time.

His gaze was soft—Pope was your friend and he’d watched you both grow up as thick as thieves—but also inquiring. You watched him briefly lick his lips, sighing to himself as he pressed a hand to his forehead. He seemed to be conflicted, having some kind of internal battle before reaching out to you across the table.

“Pope was dead before he was in the water.”

You merely blinked at him, not quite processing his words.

“Someone…someone cut his throat.”

At that, your vision blurred, and you could see on Shoupe’s face that he was predicting what was about to happen before you even tried to stand. The older man reached for you again, attempting to keep you from falling, but your feet tripped over one another as your legs lost their strength. When your knees hit the hard floor, your brain didn’t even register the pain.

Burying two friends within two weeks of each other was something you would’ve never predicted. Not until you were in your seventies, at least. It felt like the opposite of unreal. It felt too real because all you could feel was pain. It was numbing and excruciating all at once somehow, and having the whole town look at you like some walking magnet for tragedy didn’t help.

In truth, all of your friends got the stares. Two out of the group were gone—one drowned and one brutally murdered—and people looked at the rest of your friends like they didn’t know what to think of them…but you? Oh, they looked at you like they both feared and hated you, and you knew why.

It was only a year ago that your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—had gone missing, and now two of your friends met the same fate everyone suspected Rafe did. There was something in their eyes that held blame, and you might have found it funny if you weren’t so angry and sad and miserable.

You were only responsible for one of them.

“No fingerprints, no footprints, no nothing,” Kie whispered, angrily. “It’s like Pope was just killed and dumped by a ghost.”

JJ was silent as he stared out into the rich girl’s yard, and you worriedly eyed him. Cleo too. It’s not like any of you were doing okay, but JJ had lost the two people he was closest to in the world, and Cleo was now in the same boat as Sarah. It was then that the blonde girl shifted, a noise leaving her throat that had you all looking over.

“Do I have to be the one to say what we’re all thinking?”

She looked between you all with a heavy gaze, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.

“That John B.’s accident wasn’t an accident…?”

Your lips parted at that, and you looked around to see that no one else had expected that either. No one else but Kie who simply wrapped her arms around herself. You recalled her words from last week, how she’d questioned why John B. was even out on the water that late. JJ had been so quick to shut it down, and despite having the same question as Kie, you’d also forced yourself to let it go.

You hadn’t wanted to fathom that someone had killed John B.

“Now, hold on-.”

“Oh, come on, JJ!” Sarah cried. “John B. drowns at one something in the morning, and a week later one of his best friends is murdered?”

You swallowed, hating this conversation.

“This is too coincidental,” she whispered, wiping her face.

The silence was loud as her accusation—and the implications that came with it—just hung in the air. You all looked between each other, and you could see it then. It was sinking in that this was too much of a coincidence, and Cleo spoke up.

“Why would anyone want to hurt them?”

“I think you mean why would anyone want to hurt us,” Kie threw out, and you all froze. “If someone did kill John B. and that same person killed Pope…isn’t it safe to assume they’re working their way through the group?”

You stood, really hating this conversation now, and stared out into the yard.

“I mean, what? Only John B. and Pope happened to piss this person off?”

“That’s even if what you’re saying is true,” JJ argued, visibly disturbed, now. “I mean, think about this. Who the hell did all of us piss off this damn bad? Huh? That doesn’t make any sense.”

It was then that your gaze met Cleo’s, and something passed through her eyes that you also knew passed through yours. You didn’t have to be a mind reader to know that the other girl was thinking about that night, recalling a bloodstained carpet and shovels that would never see the light of day. Your lips parted as your gaze lowered, and feeling like you might be sick, you sat down. No. There was nothing you could think of that all of you had done to collectively anger someone this much. However, there was something that came to mind that four of you had done.

…but Rafe was dead.

He’d been dead for a year, and so what Cleo was obviously thinking was clearly not possible.

Even with that fact, it still didn’t prevent you from being terrified, and it was no surprise that none of you wanted to be alone. Even if John B.’s accident was just that, someone had still killed Pope, and Outer Banks now had a murderer in their midst. If people looked at you with disdain before, then it was nothing in comparison to when a curfew was enforced.

“First it was Rafe…”

You tensed at the sound of the voice.

“…then John B. and now Pope.”

You cut your eyes to Kelce as he walked by you.

“We don’t need a curfew. What we need is to search your damn house,” he sneered, turning his back to you as he strode away.

You crossed your arms over your chest as you waited for Sarah to exit the shop. You knew that Kelce wasn’t alone in his sentiment. It was only just the day before when your eyes had met Topper’s, the blonde’s gaze unreadable despite the clenching of his jaw. Topper was never the kind of guy to evoke intimidation, but that was before he thought you had something to do with the disappearance of his best friend.

When Rafe went missing, you were questioned. It was expected. After all, you weren’t just his girlfriend but also the girlfriend who everyone knew he would literally get crazy about. Your rocky off-and-on relationship was no secret, so naturally you were the first to be brought in. The police hadn’t been able to find anything though, not then and not for the past year, so any suspicions anyone might’ve had were probably long forgotten about.

Until now.

The only difference was that now not only did they think you killed Rafe, but also your best friends.

“They’re assholes. You know that,” Sarah told you as she drove you back to her place.

The Cameron household was where you’d been staying when you weren’t at home with JJ. Ever since that night, something in you felt wrong about accepting the Cameron’s hospitality and even setting foot into their house. That night was complicated, this much was true, but the fact remained that you were responsible for their pain. Ward would never be reunited with his son because of you.

Smiling in their faces and eating at their table left a sour feeling in your gut.

“…but I did kill Rafe,” you whispered.

Sarah glanced at you at that.

“We all did,” she finally said. “…and it wasn’t like that. He was choking you, he was…he was killing you. It was self-defense.”

“Yeah, I’m sure the cops will think rolling him up and burying him in the woods was self-defense,” you scoffed.

Sarah was parked in her yard, now, and she gripped your arm. Her expression was hard as she stared at you, lips pressed together.

“Stop that,” she bit out. “Rafe… Rafe wasn’t going to stop. We had no choice, and do I sometimes wish things had ended differently for him and for us? Yeah. Even the most estranged of siblings don’t actually want to kill each other, but what’s done is done.”

She looked between your eyes, and you swallowed, recalling that silent conversation with Cleo. You licked your lips, touching your forehead and swallowing down a sigh.

“What if it’s not done?” you wondered, almost inaudibly.

When you looked at Sarah again, there was a frown on her face.

“We definitely know of someone who’d want us dead,” you whispered, and you watched the color drain from Sarah’s face.

“…and he’s dead.”

“…but what if he’s not?” you choked out. “What if…? I mean, sure, there was blood and we hit him twice and we buried him, but what if-.”

“Stop,” Sarah breathed, resting her hands on the wheel. “Stop talking.”

“Sarah-.”

“I said stop!”

The blonde girl looked visibly distressed, eyes wide and lips trembling as she stared ahead.

“We killed him. He’s dead…and he can’t hurt you or anyone else ever again.”

Sarah sounded more like she was trying to convince herself than you. You could see how upsetting this conversation was for her, and again, you wished that night had gone differently. Getting your friends caught up in your relationship problems was your biggest regret, and no matter how many times they insisted they’d never take it back, it did nothing to ease your guilt.

Repeating Sarah’s words in your mind, you put thoughts of Rafe behind you.

You were having a horrifying case of déjà vu.

Around this time a year ago, you were also out in the middle of the woods at night, repeatedly stabbing at the dirt with a shovel. It had just rained then, and the ground had been wet—soft. You’d been less calm then, but also somehow less terrified than you were, now. A year ago, it had been four of you digging a hole.

Tonight, it was three.

Sticking together was the plan. Even if you didn’t collectively agree on it, there was the thought in all of your minds that someone was after you. Even JJ, who was in denial, didn’t turn down Sarah’s offer to sleep over at her place. Any other time where Rose and Ward would’ve vehemently opposed several Pogues taking up residence in their house, they were now a lot more welcoming.

Any doubt that you were being hunted like animals was nowhere to be found the night you discovered Cleo’s body.

The four of you were sleeping in Sarah’s room—JJ in the guest room right next door—when you heard the faintest thump. It seemed like forever ago, but in the night, it was oddly reminiscent of the day of Rose’s fall festivity or whatever—before John B. died. You recalled the noise you’d heard that day, your open window, and where you had written both of those things off, you now looked back in fear.

You’d sat up, rubbing your eyes and looking around. Noticing Cleo’s absence, you told yourself that she was getting something to drink or going to the bathroom. However, your effort to lay back down was halted when you heard it again—a faint thump from downstairs that made your hair stand on end for some reason. Glancing at your remaining best friends, you pushed yourself to your feet.

“Cleo?”

Your kept your voice low as you stood at the top of the stairs, not wanting to unnecessarily wake the whole house. Only silence met you, and you frowned. The stillness of the house felt heavy, suffocating, and it unnerved you. It was just moments ago that it wasn’t so silent, and you walked back to Sarah’s room.

Glancing inside, there was still no sign of Cleo, and facing the fact that she wasn’t in the bathroom, you made your way downstairs.

The whole house was dark, and telling yourself that a light would be on if she was in the kitchen, you flipped the switch. An empty kitchen met you, as you expected, and your frown deepened. Walking back to the staircase, you looked up, a heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach as you climbed them. There were only so many places that she could be, and wondering if you’d missed her somehow, you checked all of the bathrooms. She wasn’t back in Sarah’s room either.

As you stood in the hallway, the complete darkness made you freeze.

It didn’t register, at first, and you stood there wracking your brain. Goosebumps completely covered your skin, now, and as you stared ahead, something in the back of your mind was screaming at you—sending off alarm bells. Something about this picture wasn’t right, and once it clicked, your heart sank to your gut.

There was no light coming from downstairs.

The kitchen light was now off.

Stumbling into Sarah’s room, you shook her and Kie awake.

“What, what?” the tan girl mumbled, Sarah’s huff coming from behind you.

“Something’s wrong,” you said, words tumbling over each other. “I can’t find Cleo.”

Both of them were wide awake, now, and Kie was frowning at you when Sarah turned her light on.

“What…?” she asked, disbelieving.

You tried to keep calm.

“I heard something, and I saw Cleo was gone, but she’s not in the bathroom, and she’s not downstairs,” you rushed out.

Sarah was still for half a second before she ran out of the room. While Kie went with her, you took it upon yourself to wake JJ, and once past his confusion, he was right on your heels as you made your way downstairs too. Kie was looking out the windows while Sarah searched each room.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” JJ said. “Don’t you guys have some alarm code or something? It’s not like she could’ve left without waking the whole house.”

JJ was right.

“So, what? You’re saying she’s still in the house? Hiding and playing some sick joke?” Sarah wondered, visibly stressed and scared. “That’s insane.”

You wondered if you should speak up about the kitchen light, about how someone had blatantly turned it off when you went upstairs. That car conversation with Sarah was on your mind, and your vision swam for a bit as you fought to keep upright. It might not be Cleo, but someone was definitely playing some sick joke.

“I’m going to wake my dad,” Sarah breathed. “This…this isn’t right.”

As she made to go upstairs, you slowly made your way to the back door. You stared out of the windows, scanning the yard for anything that might make sense of all this. The yard was empty, and you could hear JJ and Kie behind you as they talked and tried to make sense of what was going on. Too busy scanning the trees and what you could see of the neighbors, your gaze was focused much too high.

When you saw her, you wanted to be sick.

“Oh my God,” you choked out. “Oh my God, oh my God!”

You were scrambling to unlock the door before JJ or Kie could question you, and the house alarm was loud as you threw the door open. The grass was dewy and slippery, and you quite literally fell a few times before you reached her. You collapsed right next to her, and Kie’s scream was even louder than yours once she fully registered what she was seeing.

Your arms shook as you held Cleo’s broken body, and if it wasn’t for the fact that you were too busy trying not to choke on your own sobs, you might’ve been screaming too. You could feel JJ’s hands on your shoulders as he tried to get you to let her go, but you felt possessed.

You couldn’t not hold her.

By now the rest of the household was outside too, and you could hear Rose on the phone, frantic and horrified. Mr. Cameron’s voice was in your ear as he too tried to get you to let her go. You couldn’t understand why. It wasn’t like you were hurting her any more—she was dead. Any hope for otherwise died the moment your wide eyes met her equally wide ones, dark gaze focused on the sky above. You felt like the least you could do was hold her—some kind of apology for not finding her sooner.

You were only convinced when the police showed up, Shoupe practically begging you to.

“We have to take her, now,” he said to you, his eyes meeting yours. “We have to do right by her and try and figure out what happened. You want that, don’t you?”

You remembered just staring at him, lips parted and chest heavy, before finally letting her go. JJ was quick to pull you beside him, his own hands trembling as he held you close. You knew that it was partly for you and partly for him. You completely leaned on him, feeling like you were moments away from fainting.

Especially so when you glanced up…your eyes landing on the open window of the second-floor bathroom.

You weren’t surprised the next day when you were face to face with Shoupe again and he said:

“She broke her neck.”

That wasn’t news to you. You found her…you held her, after all. You saw what she looked like, so his words were expected. His next, however, were not.

“Now, that could’ve happened when she fell…or it could’ve happened before.”

Your gaze lifted then, watching the older man heave a sigh and lean in closer across the table. His gaze was completely serious, lips pressed together and jaw clenched. He clasped his hands together as he regarded you.

“Now…I asked you this before when we pulled Pope out of that water…”

You swallowed.

“…and you gave me your answer then, and I believed you, but now I’m asking again.”

Tears kissed your eyes.

“…and depending on how you answer, I may not believe you this time.”

Dark blond hair and blue eyes filled your vision, a smooth and almost raspy baritone bouncing around between your ears. For just a moment, you weren’t in that room face to face with Shoupe. You were one year younger and rolling a lithe frame up in a bloody carpet. You and three other girls were carrying it to a familiar truck, determined to bury it where no one would ever find it. Even before Shoupe asked his question, that was all you could see.

…and yet, when he asked if you knew of anyone who’d want to hurt you and your friends, you still told him no.

That was two weeks ago, and now you were back in the woods…in a familiar spot…hoping to dig up a familiar face.

“This is insane, you know that, right?” Sarah spat, huffing as she stabbed at the dirt again.

“Look around!” Kie yelled, her voice bouncing off of the trees. “Three of our friends are dead! They’re dead, and you know what? When the cops asked if I knew of anyone who’d want to hurt them, I almost told them Rafe.”

You and Sarah paused at that, staring at her.

“Can you believe that? That sounds crazy, right because Rafe is dead, and..” she threw her arm up. “I would know!”

She was breathing hard, fighting to keep it together.

“…but Cleo was pushed. We all know that she didn’t fall. She was pushed, shoved, thrown, however you want to call it! Her neck was broken…and you all can say that it happened when she hit the ground, but I just don’t believe that.”

“Unless you’re saying one of us did it…” Sarah shrugged. “Someone would have to know the alarm code to not only turn it off, open the window, and toss her out…but also turn it back on as soon as they did it.”

“Sound like anyone we know?” Kie sarcastically wondered, pointedly looking at the ground beneath them.

There was a brief pause between you three as the horrifying possibility set in. Sarah was right. The requirements to pull something like that off fell to any of you, and you knew for a fact that none of you would ever, and so that was where Kie’s suspicions came in. Determined to face the truth one way or another, you continued to dig.

It felt so silly, attempting to dig up a man you’d most assuredly killed. You still had nightmares some nights about the feel of Rafe wrapping both hands around your neck, squeezing so tight that you were sure your neck would snap at any moment. Even when Sarah and Cleo had walked in, shocked and horrified at the sight before them, he hadn’t stopped.

He’d only been focused on killing you.

As you dug, you could remember their screams and the sound of them hitting him and trying to get him off. Nothing had worked, even when Kie came in, attempting to jump on his back. You didn’t know if it was the coke or alcohol that night that made him so determined to kill you regardless of witnesses. Either way, for your sake, you needed Rafe to be in this grave.

You could handle a lot of things, but you couldn’t handle Rafe still being out there.

“I don’t think we have the right spot,” Kie finally said after some time.

You yourself had briefly thought the same, but you remembered that night like the back of your hand. This was the right spot, and the longer you kept being greeted with dirt and more dirt, you could feel an internal panic setting in. Sarah stopped digging after Kie, but you kept going. You had to…because he had to be here.

“Y/N…”

“He’s here,” you breathed. “He has to be.”

Right now, there was only the sound of you frantically digging, and you hadn’t even realized you’d started crying until a sob bubbled up in your chest. You could hear Sarah calling your name again, but you paid her no mind, tossing the shovel aside and falling to your knees. You clawed at the dirt, looking for any sign of bone or clothing or even the damn rug!

“Y/N-,”

“No,” you screamed, throat hurting. “He has to be here, he has to be here.”

You felt like you were going to throw up, nails chipping and breaking as they only came in contact with dirt and sticks and rocks. Hitting your fist against the ground, you screamed again, this one dying into a fit of sobs. You felt Kie’s hands on your shoulders, and you struggled to breathe.

“This can’t be happening,” you heard Sarah breathe.

You pressed your face into your dirty hands, inconsolable as you were forced to face the truth.

“This doesn’t mean he’s alive,” Kie whispered. “Someone…someone else could know. I don’t know how, but it could be anyone else doing this, somebody who dug him up and is messing with us.”

“Or it could be Rafe!”

Your vision was blurry as you looked at her.

“It could be Rafe who wasn’t actually dead when we buried him. It could be Rafe killing my friends and torturing me and coming back to finish what he started!”

You pressed your forehead against the dirt, hunched over as the most awful wailing noise left you. You felt insane, like nothing in the world made sense, and you could hardly stand when Kie pulled you to your feet. If Rafe was still alive…your life as you knew it was over. You struggled to walk as Sarah put the shovels in the trunk, and when she closed it, she just stood there, hand pressed to the top with the other on her hip.

“So, what do we do? Do we go to the police and tell them that Rafe is doing this?”

“…and when they ask why?” Kie wondered, holding you upright. “What do we say? Y/N didn’t want to be with him anymore, so he ran off and came back a year later to kill her and her friends?”

You completely sank against the car, forehead pressed to the vehicle.

“…or better yet, what happens when we tell them we think Rafe is behind this only for his body to turn up? If everyone isn’t suspicious of us now—and they’re pretty fucking suspicious—they’ll definitely be then.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled after some time, continuing when you felt their gazes on you. “I’m so  sorry.”

“What-?”

“This is my fault,” you choked out, forcing yourself to straighten. “I should’ve left him the first time he hurt me. I should’ve…should’ve told someone, I should have called the police.”

“Y/N, this isn’t your fault,” Sarah argued.

“Yes, it is,” you cried, attempting to wipe your face and only succeeding in putting more dirt on it. “You hit him to get him off of me, but… I didn’t have to hit him again. I didn’t have to do that. He was already passing out, and I could’ve just called the cops and-.”

“…and deal with Rafe again when he was inevitably released?” Kie threw out. “Look, Sarah, your family is okay and all, but let’s face it. Rafe would not have stayed in jail long, if at all with Ward backing him up with his money.”

Neither of you argued against that, and your gaze found the ground.

“We need to get back,” Sarah said in a small voice. “It’s way past curfew, and if someone catches us out here, we’ll be even bigger suspects than we already are.”

Sarah was right, and when it became apparent that you needed help moving your feet, she guided you to the passenger side. Kie settled in the backseat, and all of you were quiet, minds no doubt occupied with the possibilities of what tonight meant. Either Rafe wasn’t dead…or someone knew what you did and was getting even on his behalf.

When Sarah turned the car on, the lights shined into the trees before you. You lifted your head, gaze landing in front of the car, and your lips parted. You blinked at the trees, eyes narrowing when Sarah turned on her brights, putting the car in reverse. There’d been a split moment when Sarah’s lights came on—and your gaze wasn’t lifted all the way—that you thought you saw something next to one of the trees.

It looked like a person, standing and watching, but they were gone so quickly that you knew you had to have imagined it. The discovery of Rafe’s empty grave was getting to you, and you wrapped your arms around yourself. It seemed farfetched that Rafe hadn’t actually been dead that night. Murder weapons and such aside, you’d buried him, and how likely was it that he’d woken up to claw his way out instead of simply suffocating and bleeding to death?

It made more sense that this was someone else’s doing, but even still…

Despite burying him yourself, you never felt like Rafe was truly gone.

With three of your friends dead, the remaining four of you were not only being watched like hawks, but also refused to barely leave each other’s sides. Despite the fact that the police still couldn’t determine if Cleo’s death was murder or an accident, the popular opinion seemed to be the former. Walking through Outer Banks as everyone’s main suspect made a place that used to feel like home unbearable.

Deep down though, some part of you felt you deserved it.

Yes, Rafe was abusive and horrible, but it wasn’t up to you to play God. It wasn’t your place to determine whether or not he deserved to live, deserved to see his family again or redeem himself or go on to be even worse. That wasn’t your call, and despite how much relief you felt when you buried Rafe that night, something in you wanted to be punished for what you’d done.

…but not like this.

You never wanted this to come back on your friends and their family. Looking in the faces of their parents and now knowing this was all directly because of you was heartbreaking. Even if it wasn’t Rafe stalking the streets of Outer Banks and picking your friends off one by one, it was clearly someone doing so for him in some weird way. This all came back to Rafe, you just knew it.

…and they were trying to mess with your head in the process.

What else would they get out of moving his remains?

Considering what happened at Sarah’s house, it came as no surprise that the next spot of choice was Kie’s. It wasn’t without difficulty, and you recalled the way both of her parents huffed and puffed as she fought to convince them. You didn’t disagree with their reasoning. After all, you didn’t need to be a genius to know they were wary of you on some level. Too many people around you had died and gone missing.

They just didn’t want the same for Kie…and you wished you’d listened.

“We could leave,” JJ said to you in one of the Carrera’s guest rooms, hand clasped with yours. “I didn’t really want to believe it before but…”

JJ heaved a sigh.

“Someone’s after us for some reason,” he relented. “…and since we have no idea who or even why… Why not just take off?”

He shrugged at you, and guilt ate at you for a whole other reason these days. After Cleo’s death—and the traumatic night in which you discovered Rafe’s grave was empty—you grappled with the thought of telling JJ the truth. He deserved to know why his friends were dead, and why he had a target on his back. You even started to one day.

…but then you thought about him knowing this was all your fault…and blaming you too. You didn’t think you had the stomach or the strength to look him in the face and tell him that your actions that night came back on half of your friends. You didn’t want to face his reaction, and so you swallowed it down.

“I would if I could,” you told him. “…but aside from just how fucking guilty that would make me and us look…my parents are here. Even if they weren’t and we left, I don’t think that would make this stop. Sarah’s here, Kie is here, and whoever is doing this clearly wants all of our heads. They’re not going to give up just because some of us leave.”

You couldn’t stomach the thought of just taking off and leaving Kie and Sarah to fend for themselves. JJ nodded at that, understanding, and you closed your eyes when he reached for your face. You placed your own hand over his, and something clenched deep in your chest. It was so unfair that the moment you and JJ finally decided to stop being cowards, someone put a bounty on your heads.

Even if you made it out of this alive, how could you ever look back on the beginning of your relationship with anything other than grief and trauma? The two of you got together because of John B.’s death and any attempt to try and heal and make something good of this was ruined by the subsequent deaths of Pope and Cleo.

“Do you think this has something to do with Rafe?”

JJ’s question gave you pause, and you pulled back, staring at him with a frown. His expression was entirely serious, telling you that you had not in fact imagined his words. When you blinked at him, you watched him run his hand through his blond locks, the fair hair still damp from his shower.

“I know you killed him,” he confessed.

Your lips parted in shock, and you fought to make sense of what was happening. Disbelieving, you pushed yourself to your feet, looking down at your boyfriend. His gaze was soft, and you watched him exhale, slowly reaching for you.

“Wha…? What do you mean you know? What are-?”

“I overheard you guys talking about it…what…? Maybe three months after it happened?”

You looked away, slowly shaking your head. When you looked at him, there was no malice or disgust in his gaze, and you felt confused.

“I never said anything because I figured you wouldn’t like anyone else knowing,” he whispered.

JJ didn’t look bothered at all, and for some reason that threw you for a loop. Once his hand was back in yours, he tugged you until you sat down with him again. He took your moment of shock to lean in and kiss you—slow and gentle, and his thumb brushed your skin as he pulled away.

“I know what you’re thinking…”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone,” you wondered, more of a statement, voicing your thoughts and confirming his assumption.

“…because Rafe was horrible to you, and not in that generic asshole boyfriend way, but…really horrible,” he told you. “The way he talked to you and treated you in public was disguising to witness, so it wasn’t hard to guess how much worse he was behind closed doors.”

You felt yourself deflating, hating that JJ had to come to grips with that terrifying truth.

“You don’t know how bad I hated him for treating you like that, how much I wanted to beg you to leave him, but you wouldn’t,” he spat, anger in his voice as he thought about the past. “You wouldn’t even come to any of us, and I just thought it wasn’t my place.”

You hadn’t realized how much of your tumultuous relationship with Rafe had been bleeding into other parts of your life almost since the beginning.

“I started to lose my mind over it, you know…just wondering if I was bad for not telling or bad for thinking about telling, but…”

He let out a humorless chuckle, pulling his lip between his teeth.

“Plenty of times I thought about killing Rafe myself, so why would I hate you for having the balls to do what I could only fantasize about?”

You held JJ’s gaze, feeling shocked but also oh so light. You felt relieved that JJ knew, and you’d no longer have to carry around this guilt, but at the same time… You hated that JJ had been carrying this around for months—almost a year. Unlike you and the girls, JJ didn’t have anyone to talk to about this, forced to carry the burden of your secret alone…and you hated that. You hated yourself for that.

Your eyes burned with tears, and you just pressed your lips to his when a blood-curdling scream made you wince.

You and JJ looked at each other for half a second before he hurried out of the room with you right behind him. The screams didn’t stop, echoing throughout the house and mixing in with harsh sobs. There was a knot twisting in your gut, a feeling of dread washing over you like a cold shower. You and JJ took the stairs almost two at a time, and when you both made it to the living room, you paused in your tracks.

Kie had her hands over her mouth, but it was useless—she couldn’t stop screaming and crying. Sarah stood by the couch, frozen in shock, and you didn’t miss what her wide and stricken eyes were focused on. Mr. and Mrs. Carrera were sitting on the couch, facing the blasting TV as they had been for God knows how long. However, something about their posture was off, and when you slowly brushed by JJ to join Sarah…you realized why.

Blood covered the entire front of them both, eyes open and unseeing, mouths open in mid-scream.

Their throats were slit.

Before the horror of what this meant could even settle in, the power in the house went out, bathing you in darkness. The lights from the neighbors and the street were not enough, and you heard Sarah telling Kie to get up. JJ’s hand was on your arm as he pulled you along too, all four of you heading for the door.

Sarah only just opened it when you heard her let out a choked gasp.

She was still, and you worriedly eyed her.

“Sarah?” JJ called her name. “Sarah, what’s…?”

He trailed off, his words dying in the air as Sarah stumbled back. She fell against Kie, and the other girl fought to catch her as the blonde reached up towards her chest. With what little light you had, your eyes focused on what she was gesturing to. Your entire vision swayed once you saw the knife protruding from it.

“Oh my God,” you breathed, and JJ yanked you back away from the door.

You in turn yanked Kie who was forced to let Sarah go. The sound of her body dropping made you wince. Unable to stay with her, the three of you now headed towards the back door. Behind you, you could hear the front door slamming shut, and the sound of it had bile rising in your throat.

The house was still dark, and besides your own heavy breathing, you heard the sound of footsteps coming from the living room. You were the first to make it to the door, hand on the knob when you heard the last thing you ever expected for some reason. The glass in front of you shattered, but your ears were ringing from the gunshot more than anything.

“Fuck,” you heard JJ curse, and you felt him wrap his arms around you, pulling you to the side.

You didn’t realize why until you looked back.

Kie was in a heap at the foot of the door, her blood decorating the remaining glass in the window and the floor too. She was completely still, and the knowledge that two more of your friends were dead within just minutes of each other had you ready to faint. Despite that, with JJ’s help, you were able to keep your feet moving.

He pulled you into the hallway that connected to the kitchen, and on the other side of the wall, you could hear the slow and heavy footsteps. When the crunch of glass was heard, JJ pulled you further along towards the kitchen—towards the front of the house. You were shaking as you slid along the wall, and when the footsteps stopped, so did JJ.

You both were completely still as you waited and listened. Both of your phones were upstairs in the guest room, but you recalled Sarah reaching for hers when she opened the door. It had to still be near her, provided that whoever was in the house hadn’t taken it. JJ seemed to have the same idea as you, because he slowly moved through the kitchen and towards the front door.

A gunshot stopped his efforts.

“Go, go,” JJ hissed, pushing you away from him so harshly that you stumbled and fell back.

You were half in the kitchen half in the hallway when a figure approached the blond who was now also on the floor, clutching his side. You frantically crawled back, vision blurring from your tears just as they stood over him. Your back was pressed to the wall, staring at the one before you with quiet sobs when you heard it.

JJ’s gasps were loud and pained as he was attacked. One, two…seventeen, you counted. You thought to yourself how angry and evil someone has to be to stab someone else seventeen times. You kept your hand pressed to your mouth the entire time, fighting the urge to be sick. When you could no longer hear JJ, you squeezed your eyes shut.

A defeated feeling washed over you, and it was the feeling of being utterly alone.

You could hear those terrifying footsteps again, and when it sounded like they were coming near you from the other side, you sprinted for the door.

Refusing to look at the bodies of your friends, you fought to run across the street. The neighbor’s lights were on, and your legs burned as you pushed yourself as fast as you could. You refused to look back—too scared to—and you practically collapsed at their door as you banged on it. Some of Kie’s blood was on you, and it marred the door as you repeatedly hit it like a woman possessed.

“Open the door, please, please,” you screamed, looking over your shoulder.

You couldn’t see anyone, but you weren’t fooled. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping you from completely collapsing on this stranger’s porch. You were beating their door so hard that your fists were beginning to ache, and your throat scratched from your screams—strained and raw. When the door finally swung open, you quite literally fell inside.

“What in the world-? Oh my goodness,” a small voice said from over you.

Small and brittle hands helped you to your feet, and you felt bad at almost knocking her over in your efforts to make sure no one was behind you. You slammed the door shut and locked it, chest heaving and feeling much too tight. You were sure that you were almost on the verge of a heart attack. You had to be.

“Sweetheart,” the old lady called. “Call the police!”

She took your hands, guiding you to the kitchen where she grabbed a rag.

“He killed them,” you sobbed, struggling to breathe. “My friends are dead.”

The words didn’t even sound real to you, like some nightmare you’d conjured up, but they were real. Your friends had been picked off one by one for weeks before the rest were finally taken from you in one night. You were alone, and that fact made you cry harder.

“The phone’s not working,” you heard another aged voice say.

You froze at that, looking up just as the woman wobbled to the kitchen entrance.

“What?” you breathed.

“What do you mean it’s not working?” she tutted, and you were quick to follow behind her.

She met up with a man who you assumed was her husband in the hallway, and he did a double take at the sight of you.

“Good lord,” he breathed. “What happened?”

“Never mind that,” she dismissed him, making her way past him. “My granddaughter bought me one of those smart phones, but I hardly ever use the thing. We’ll find that and then we’ll call the police, sweetheart.”

You didn’t want to let her out of your sight, terrified of being alone, but the elderly man reminded you of his presence. He guided you back into the kitchen with a strained but kind smile. You could tell that your presence worried him. You were in his house in the middle of the night covered in blood, after all.

“Thank you,” you managed to mumble when he handed you the damp rag.

The feel of Kie’s blood on you was both comforting and horrifying. Your friend wasn’t with you, but this small part of her was, but at the same time, it only reminded you of her gruesome and tragic death. The woman came back through the hallway, joining her husband in the living room, and you heard her mumbling something about hoping the cops would come quick when there was a knock on the door.

The sound of it made your stomach drop, and you stood in the kitchen, rag tight in your hand. What were the chances they’d be getting some friendly visit at this time of night? Right after all your friends were brutally murdered, and you were forced to seek refuge at this very house?

You’d only taken one step forward when you heard the door open, followed by a startled gasp. It happened quick, too quick for you to even process, and it wasn’t long before you could hear the woman’s husband yelping too, a loud thud reaching your ears. Before today, you didn’t know what it sounded like to stab someone or cut their throat. You stumbled back, eyes wide and heart so loud in your ears that it was all you could hear for a moment.

You felt so cold, and you had the shivers to prove it, and slowly but surely…you reached for the knife in the sink.

The house was so quiet, and you didn’t hear a single breath or footstep. Taking a hesitant step forward, you held the knife out in front of you, briefly squeezing your eyes shut. Stepping into the living room, you weren’t surprised to see the bodies of the poor couple who’d just tried to help you. Blood stretched from beneath them like a stream. You pressed your free hand to your mouth, swallowing down a sob.

You were surprised, however, to see an empty living room.

Your brain was completely empty, feeling like you were short-circuiting. You were being toyed with, that much was obvious, and your lips trembled as you slowly spun, fighting to see any sign of your tormentor. Slowly kneeling, you looked for the woman’s cellphone, and you had to swallow down a curse when you realized it was gone.

You stood in the living room, feeling like you were losing your mind with no idea of what to do next. You could run back across the street to Kie’s where you knew a phone was…or you could try another neighbor. A last resort of an option flitted through your mind, anger briefly filling you as you considered simply killing the person who did this.

The front porch creaked, and your gaze zeroed in on the door.

Backing up, you moved further into the house and further away from the door. You glanced over your shoulder, arm grazing the wall as you hid in the hallway. You could hear the door opening just as you disappeared around the corner, and as you slowly and quietly moved about the back of the house, you wanted to cry with the realization that they had no back door.

The house was so modest and quaint that you hadn’t even considered that possibility.

Tears of frustration and fear skipped down your face just as the upbeat tune of a whistle reached your ears. You didn’t know why, but something about it made you so angry. You were being played with, like a damn mouse in the grasp of some cat. How this person could snuff out life like it was nothing and be so giddy about it, you didn’t know. It disgusted you.

…and so the knife was tight in your hand as you stomped back towards the living room.

There was no doubt in your mind that you were going to die tonight, and you’d rather it be fighting and on your terms. The lifeless faces of your friends were all that plagued your thoughts, one after the other being taken from you so easily. As if they were nothing. You thought you were prepared for the person you’d grown to hate most in the world.

…but you weren’t prepared for the sight of Barry sprawled along the couch without a care in the world.

You actually came up short, stopping in your tracks in both shock and disbelief. You felt your lips part, and your hold on the knife wasn’t so firm, now, almost dropping it. A myriad of emotions hit you at once, none of them good, but the loudest and most prominent was…confusion.

You barely knew Barry, really only in passing. The only time you ever saw him was when you happened to be in Rafe’s truck when he needed to make some exchange, the dark-haired man always giving you a mockingly prissy wave. You never talked to him outside of pleasantries, and quite frankly you hated being around him. Somehow, he always managed to bring out the worst in Rafe, egging on any of Rafe’s disgusting behaviors.

He never called you by your name, it was always—

“Mrs. Country Club,” he drawled, that familiar cheeky half grin on his lips.

The gold in his mouth winked at you as you just stood there, and your stomach turned.

“Barry?” you breathed, and he simply raised his hands as if to say ‘the one and only’. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He raised his brows at that, pursing his lips together to fight off a smirk. You looked around, trying to make sense of this before taking a shaky breath.

“Why?” you spat, gaze meeting his unreadable one. “I don’t understand…”

Your words died in your throat, getting choked up.

“Why?”

He played with his hair, a look of confusion on his face.

“Why what…?”

“You’re not funny,” you sneered. “You’re not. Why? Why? Why?”

You screamed the last one, face wet with tears, and all the while he simply…smirked at you.

“How about this… I’ll answer yours if you answer mine,” he proposed, gesturing between you. “Did you feel bad when you dumped your boyfriend in the woods?”

His question made so much click, and you sighed, eyes briefly closing.

Of course.

Of fucking course.

Somehow, someway, Topper and Kelce were like brothers to Rafe despite their differences, but Barry? You always hated how your ex-boyfriend managed to find a camaraderie in the dangerous drug dealer, both of them cut from the same psycho cloth. Only Barry could never go to the lengths Rafe did. At least, that was what you always thought…

The laugh that left you seemed to surprise both of you, and he blinked, brows raising again as he just…looked at you.

“That’s what this is about?” you breathed, voice shaking from anger and grief and disgust. “Revenge because I killed your bestie?”

Your tone was mocking, and all the while, Barry just stared at you.

“I guess psycho little rich boys must be hard to come by,” you spat. “Forgive me. Had I known you were going to take it so hard, I would’ve tried to make it look like some tragic accident instead.”

Again, he said nothing at all, and you recalled he’d asked you a question.

“…but to answer your question, no. I didn’t.”

The corner of his lips lifted ever so slightly at that, smirk growing.

“Rafe treated me like his property, like he could do whatever he wanted to me…and best believe…he took full advantage,” you forced out. “That night it was him or me…and I chose me.”

The other man jutted his lip out a bit, nodding in a way that suggested he was almost impressed. You looked at the bodies of the poor couple who’d gotten caught up in your shit, and you wiped your face, more tears spilling over. You adjusted the knife in your hand, staring him down.

“So, are you going to try and kill me or what?”

He tilted his head, raising an eyebrow at you.

“That’s what this whole thing has been about, right?” you threw your arms up. “Tormenting me, driving me crazy, taking my friends from me and saving me for last so I knew what was coming, right?”

His silence actually angered you, now, and you roughly exhaled through your nose.

“What are you waiting for?” you brokenly questioned, startled by the sound of his chuckle.

It was genuine.

“I am offended,” he laughed, hands grazing his chest as he sat up straight. “Do I seem like a bloodthirsty murderer to you? Come on, now, Mrs. Country Club. You know that’s not my style.”

His words confused you.

“Truthfully,” he said, resting his elbows on his knees, a half-smile on his lips. “I’m just here for the show.”

You were so startled by the tight grip on your wrist that you dropped the knife, your lifeline clattering to the floor with a loud clang. Another knife—a bigger one—was at your throat, and you sharply inhaled at the feel of cool metal to your skin. In your attempt to get away from the blade, you pressed yourself further into the chest at your back. His hand on your wrist briefly tightened, so bad that you cried out in pain, but the tears that poured over had nothing to do with that.

You heard his deep breaths, and it wasn’t because his lips were at your ear, but because you’d stopped breathing. You couldn’t feel your heart, an icy emptiness in your chest where it was supposed to be, and the noise that finally left your lips was a cross between a gasp and a cry. The knife at your throat pressed harder into your skin, feeling a slight sting there, but it was nothing in comparison to the feel of his face pressing into the area where your neck and shoulder met.

He deeply inhaled, and a shudder passed through you.

“Word of advice…”

You closed your eyes at the sound of his voice, hoping for anything other than what you accepted as the truth.

“…if you’re going to bury someone,” his lips were at your ear again, and his tone was chilling. “Make sure they’re actually dead.”

A sob finally escaped, and your tearful eyes rested on the ceiling.

“Unlike you, I don’t make that mistake.”

Revulsion filled you, and you were certain that now you really were going to be sick.

“When I set out to kill someone, I get the job done,” he purred, a kiss to your neck. “…but you know that better than anyone, baby.”

You couldn’t even describe the feeling of being in Rafe’s arms again. There was too much going on within you to pinpoint one feeling, but above all else, you knew that you felt fear. Not once had you ever been able to actually heal from Rafe’s abuse. He was the thing you feared most in the world…and then you killed him.

That wasn’t healing.

That was just getting rid of the problem, but the fear and inferiority complex and damage still remained. You were happier with him gone, and you’d mistakenly took that for healing, but now that he was back… Now that Rafe was alive and well and a thousand times worse than you knew him to be, all of that came back, and you couldn’t stop crying.

“What? Nothing to say for yourself?”

It was so hard to breathe, and you couldn’t answer Rafe’s question even if you wanted to.

“Nothing to say about how you hit me upside the head and buried me in the woods like a fucking dog?”

He shook you as he said this, and you cried out. Evidently, that made him angrier, and you soon found yourself thrown to the floor. Your legs landed in blood, and your attempt to crawl away was halted by Rafe’s hand in your hair. He yanked you back until you were on your knees, and when you reached up, his other hand had the knife at your throat.

“Oh, wait, that’s right. What was it you said? It came down to you…or me…?” he chuckled, purposefully nicking your neck. “…and you chose you…right?”

He shoved you again, and you struggled to get to the wall, leaning against it and finally facing him.

It actually hurt you to see that he was just as beautiful as the day you buried him. Of course, he was sober, now, but what did that count for when he also had half a dozen literal bodies under his belt now? Blood stained his shirt, so much of it, and you wondered how much of it belonged to your friends. Your lips trembled as he pushed his hair out of his face, his other hand still holding the bloody knife.

“Sorry about your boyfriend,” he suddenly said although he didn’t sound sorry, at all.

Your face crumbled, and he chuckled.

“It wasn’t my intention for him to go like that, but…” he wiped blood off of his forehead. “I couldn’t quite get the image of him on top of you out of my head.”

Your eyes widened at his words, staring at him in shock as you recalled the day you told yourself you were imagining things.

“Truthfully, Sarah was supposed to be last,” he casually said, and you pressed your hand to your mouth. “My own fucking sister.”

He scoffed, and something passed through his gaze that told you he was genuinely hurt about Sarah’s so-called betrayal. His blue eyes rested on you, and you were suddenly thinking about the last time you stared into them…when he had his hands around your throat, choking the life out of you. Rafe seemed to be thinking about that night too, and you watched his gaze briefly fall to the floor, sniffing.

“I gotta admit,” he murmured. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

He looked into your eyes again, and you realized that you hadn’t stopped crying once since he revealed himself to you. Your gaze briefly landed on Barry who was still on the couch, watching the whole ordeal like this was some tv show instead of real fucking life.

“Rafe…” you choked out.

“…but I can promise you,” the blond sneered, pointing the knife at you. “I won’t be making that mistake again.”

You closed your eyes, fresh tears falling, and you struggled to swallow.

“Just get it over with already,” you breathed, so tired and…defeated. “Just kill me.”

When you opened your eyes, Rafe looked genuinely amused at the words that left your mouth. You weren’t surprised when he chuckled, and he glanced over his shoulder at Barry, still laughing.

“Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

Your confusion must have been evident because he laughed again. Rafe stepped towards you until your eyes were level with his crotch, and you hated the way he looked down at you, like you were this helpless and hapless thing that he was just going to have so much fun with. When he slowly knelt before you, you flinched as he lifted his hand, the end of the knife lightly grazing your cheek before it trailed down your neck. Rafe’s blue gaze followed the descent, tongue darting out between his lips.

“Why would I do a silly thing like that?”

His almost inaudible words were loud and clear to you though, and you felt like you’d been shot.

“I won’t lie,” he said, staring at your collarbone. “I thought about. It was the first thing on my mind when Barry pulled me out of that grave you put me in.”

You swallowed when his gaze snapped to yours.

“I wanted to gut you like those fish my dad are always reeling in,” he spat. “I wanted to cut you open.”

You shook your head, letting it fall as you cried.

“…but this seemed soo much better,” he breathed, voice shaky, and you knew it wasn’t from fear nor anger.

Rafe was excited.

“…because you know what’s so much better than murdering all of your friends and forcing you to live with the fact that their deaths are on your hands? Hmm?”

He reached up, lightly grazing your lips with his fingers.

“Do you know what’s better than that?”

His hand tightened around your chin, and knowing him like the back of your hand, you knew he actually wanted an answer.

“No,” you muttered.

Rafe leaned in, brushing his lips against your cheek in a gentle kiss as he whispered his response.

“Having you all to myself.”

You didn’t have time to resist before Rafe was yanking you up by your hair, quite literally dragging you through this stranger’s house. Your feet tripped over one another, and several times you almost fell. Rafe finally wrapped an arm around your neck, keeping you in a chokehold as he forced you down the hall. The moment you tried to scream, his hand was there, forcing it down, and when he tossed you into the bedroom, your forehead hit the leg of the bed.

You heard him whistle.

“The old geezers have taste,” he praised. “…bet this is where that granddaughter of theirs sleeps when she comes to visit.”

You were a sobbing mess, just barely pushing yourself to your knees when Rafe tackled you onto your back. Not unfamiliar with this predicament, you fought against him, hitting him and scratching at his face. Any resistance was met with a genuine laugh, and when Rafe had both of your wrists pinned down beside your head, he tilted his own at you.

“You already killed me, baby,” he breathed. “What more could you do to me?”

The scream you let out was filled with equal pain and frustration, kicking out when he sank his teeth into your chest. It was done with the full intent to hurt, and he succeeded, pain blooming beneath your skin as he tore at your shirt.

Becoming reacquainted with his knife, you tried to scoot back as he sliced through your pants with it, pulling the jeans off of you in tatters. Fearful of the weapon in his hand, you tried to push at his arm, but when his free hand wrapped around your throat, effectively pinning you down, the knife found its way to your stomach.

You breath hitched as you froze.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” Rafe hummed. “I might just…slip.”

You yelped at the sharp feeling along your stomach, and the burn you felt told you there was a cut there. He didn’t let go of the knife as he undressed himself with his other hand, and when he reached for your bra, the blade was pressed to your throat the entire time. You couldn’t stop shaking even if you wanted to, and Rafe made a show of taking his time as he settled between your legs.

“I hope you know how much planning went into this…”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“…and I hope you know that this was all that kept me going.”

When he pushed into you, you gasped in both pain and shock. You hadn’t been with Rafe—with anyone—in a year, and you struggled to adjust. Fresh tears escaped, and when Rafe’s bloody hand gripped your jaw, he turned your head to meet him in a kiss. It was gentle, nothing at all like the rough thrusts he started to give you.

Your back rubbed against the floor as he fucked you, and your crying was drowned out by the sound of his deep moans. Rafe sounded like he was in heaven while you felt like you were in hell. The feel of his cock pushing into you made your mind shrivel with disgust, but your body responded exactly how he wanted.

“I missed you,” he moaned, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “Fuck, I missed you so much.”

You sobbed louder, hating the way his thrusts became smoother, now. Your body greedily sucked him in with every push of his hips, and as his hands ran over you, all you could think about were these same hands killing your friends. These same hands that had done so much damage to your life even before that fateful night last year.

With a tug on the hair at the nape of your neck, Rafe forced your head back, and he took his time grazing his teeth along your skin. You could still feel the cool blade of the knife on your skin whenever he moved his other hand. His hips snapped against yours, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room, and it seemed like every nightmare you’d had about Rafe had come true…only multiplied by one hundred.

He pressed a hand into your stomach, holding himself up that way while the other hand pressed the knife to your throat. A fresh bout of sobs escaped, and you swore that Rafe actually smiled. You were proven right when he laughed, a deep and raspy chuckle that made your hair stand on end.

“Sucks, doesn’t it?” he breathed. “…being so weak and at the mercy of someone else?”

It was sick how Rafe didn’t seem to realize that you knew this feeling long before today. Countless days filled with fear and yelling and manhandling plagued your mind, and the knowledge that Rafe had no intention of ending your suffering was enough to make you go numb.

As if sensing that, Rafe pressed the blade into your throat.

Your gasped turned into cries as you reached up.

“Uh uh,” he panted. “None of that. You are going to lie here…and you’re going to think about what you did to me.”

You gripped his wrist, eyes pleading. Rafe leaned in, nose pressed to yours with a knife pressed to your throat and a hand pressed to your stomach.

“You’re going to lie here, and take my cock, and thank God that I decided to spare your life.”

A particular hard thrust made you gasp.

“Every day, for as long as you live, I want you to think about your friends and remember that they are dead because of you…”

You closed your eyes, and Rafe dug the knife into your throat.

“Open your fucking eyes,” he breathed, continuing when you obeyed. “They are dead because you failed to kill me, and every time I come inside of you, you should take it with nothing less than gratitude.”

He kissed you then, roughly and lacking of any kind of love. It was purely done for show, to exert his power over you and remind you that you belonged to him. You tried to turn your head, and in doing so, you caught sight of Barry leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest as he watched. The sight made you turn your head away, sobbing beneath Rafe.

“…because never forget that I wanted to cut you open,” he whispered in your ear, grinding his hips against yours and forcing a choked moan from your lips. “…but where is the fun in killing you when this is so much better.”

[ellievickstar]

Sinner's Sacrifice

A/N: Here's part 2 of Bloodied Bonds , i'm going for alliteration in the title hahah. it's a lot shorter than the first part i wish i made it longer but i feel like i was stretching it out i know i know it sucks to wait for parts i really wanted it to only be two parts long but i really had a "my story has it's own ideas" moment T^T. I'm so so sorry towards anyone who thought this would be the last part I can assure you I thought that too. I hope you enjoy <3

Summary: As Azriel struggles to navigate a situation where he could lose you no matter what he chooses, take a look into his own heart.

Pairing: Azriel x Reader, Rhysand x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Elain slander, dying, self-sacrificing thoughts

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Azriel had lost count of how many hours it had been since he had threatened to eventually murder Elain.

And he was losing damned mind.

Every single day he had sat in the chair beside your sleeping form….you were breathing, which was an improvement from the heaving and choking in your sleep that alarmed Madja enough to order the inner circle to start taking turns watching over you. Madja believed that your condition improved because he was finally turning away from Elain, but that was what the bond sensed. Without your mind, your own belief to ensure your heart, your condition was bound to deteriorate again.

And yet you could not wake up so he could explain.

So he could apologise.

So he could beg for your forgiveness.

Everyday without making the decision to let Madja just remove the roots of the flowers seemed like a gamble, but after what had been discovered, what Cassian had caught Elain doing, the entire inner circle was not sure if it would be better to let your relationship go, or let you go.

Both scenarios, Azriel would lose.

In both situations, Azriel would lose you forever and a part of him felt like maybe he deserved it. If you ever woke up, ever wanted revenge to make him feel guilty for what had been done, regardless the fact that it had been out of his control, you would have gotten it in spades when he realised that his ignorance, his belief that he could help just one more person, his blindness to the Elain’s darkness, had caused him a situation that would cost him no matter what he did.

And in that, all he could do daily was hold your hand, and weep.

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“Go shower Azriel. It’s been three days,” Cassian said softly. The shadowsinger merely moved his head to gaze at his friend who leaned against the door frame. Not out of habit but because he genuinely needed the support. Azriel saw the eyebags under Cassian’s eyes, his tired exhausted expression not far from the one Azriel wore.

When Azriel simply shook his head, bringing his gaze back to his mate, not wanting to move another muscle, Cassian groaned.

“Azriel she won’t die within the time it takes you to take a quick bath, please, you need it,” However, Azriel once again did not move, this time not even deigning Cassian a response. The latter simply sighed before making his way towards Rhys’s office, pushing the door open to see Rhysand surrounded by various books, piles of them in the corner, some of them discarded with pages torn out.

“Rhys…?” Cassian knocked on the slightly ajar door.

Violet eyes met Cassian’s hazel ones and Rhys simply let out a breath before standing, checking the time by glancing at the window behind him, “Ah…it’s dark….I did not notice,” He simply stated awkwardly, moving to gather up some of the books from his desk, no doubt to bring it with him to his and Feyre’s room to further study until the waking hours of the next morning.

It broke Cassian’s heart to see his brothers in such a state.

Broke his own heart to see you lying there completely unconscious, every few days needing Madja to extract flowers from your throat.

The women of the house had isolated themselves to their own rooms. Mor came to your room every few hours to check on you however she stayed in her room surrounded by a similar book pile as Rhys, trying to consult her own oracles of truth to see if they had any answers. Amren had gone over to the summer court with Varian to see if they had any records that the Night Court did not, Nesta looked through the libraries with the priestesses, passing anything she found that may be useful to Feyre who scanned through them.

All this and nothing.

They had come up short.

Contacting Thesan, Helion, even Tamlin to see if there was any connections of the disease to the spring court, had come to nothing. No answers. No solutions.

Finally, as Cassian rounded the corner of the house he entered the room they had been keeping Elain in. There she was chained to the ground staring at the wall. For a moment Cassian would have felt bad for how hollow she looked, however his guilt was quickly swallowed by the anger he felt for what she had done to cause your current state.

“I see how you can help her…” Elain suddenly said, her eyes flitting to Cassian, “When minds connect, when you travel through souls,” She hummed before continuing to fiddle with the hem of her dress. Her cheeks were sunken in and hollow, her eyes now held a sharp and piercing stare instead of the soft glint. For once, Elain Archeron’s true colours were on full display.

At her words however, Cassian froze, his tone dropping to a dangerous timbre, “Do you know how to save Y/N,” Elain hummed, “I’ll tell you….for a price.”

“Do you really think that you are in a position to bargain?”

“She’s running out of time isn’t she?”

Cassian bit down on his tongue, hard. Storming out of the room he slammed the door shut, letting out a pained and frustrated roar.

Elain knew. Or at least there was a possibility that she knew. However, her calm demeanour and unflinching attitude showed Cassian no signs of lies. She knew how to save you but she wanted something out of it.

With a silent prayer, Cassian swore to himself he’d find the way to save you even if he had to pry it out of the memories in Elain’s dead body.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

“So she knows how to save my sister,” Rhys confirmed, Cassian nodded, “That’s what she claims. If she’s lying then she’s damned good at it, however she’s suggesting a bargain, I didn’t pry into the details she was thinking of.”

Not without Rhysand himself present.

Not without Azriel.

The three brothers looked at each other, Azriel’s hand was holding yours, had been holding yours since Rhysand and Cassian had come into the room saying that they had something to discuss.

“We should ask her what she wants,” Azriel muttered softly, his voice hoarse and raspy from not using it for a while.

“And if she asks for your hand?” Cassian challenged, “Then we’ll find a way to break the bargain like how Feyre and Rhysand did, but for now our focus is to save her.”

It was then Rhysand recognised his brother for once after all this time, the shadow singer who would do anything to keep you safe, the self-sacrificing spy master who would sacrifice himself, his choices just to save you.

“Let’s go then,” Rhysand concluded, standing from his stool, Cassian pushed off the wall he had been leaning against and Azriel graced the back of your hand with a soft kiss before standing, casting you one last glance before following his brothers out. Nesta replaced Azriel’s position on the stool, promising the shadow singer to keep watch of you until he returned.

Following his brothers down the hallway, Azriel’s mind flooded with memories of sneaking down these halls to get away with you, memories of coming home and seeing you in the hallway, collapsing into your loving arms. Thoughts of your love and you consumed him and he shuddered under the weight of his own grief.

He could not lose you.

He would not lose you.

And so as Azriel stepped into the room of Elain’s captivity, levelling her with a glare, inside Azriel knew that he would sacrifice anything just to hold you.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

A/N: please reply if you want to be tagged in part 3 people tagged in part 2 will not be tagged again in part 3 unless they ask in replies. Thank you <3

Azriel taglist: @kemillyfreitas @going-through-shit @chessebookgirl @helloworlditsmesblo (please ask if you want to be added to AZRIEL'S taglist - this is NOT the same as part 3 taglist)

[moonstruckme]

Hi lovely! Me again but with an actual request this time 😭😭 would you be able to write poly!marauders with reader who just got their wisdom teeth out and they’re all taking her home and taking care of her while she’s all loopy and hyped up on pain meds. I think it’d be so silly and cute. Only if you want to though! Much love and thanks!

-🍓

Thanks for requesting lovely!

cw: mention of blood, effects of anesthesia

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

Sirius had offered to be the one to drive you, but no one had let him because of how upset you all knew he’d get. As soon as you come through the door, Remus knows they’d made the right decision. 

“I know, darling,” James' voice is low, sympathetic, and a bit panicked, “but I promise you can have them in a couple of days, alright?” Sirius leaves the dishwater to get cold, beelining for the front door. Remus is hot on his tail. They find James kneeling in front of you, untying your shoes while tears dribble off your chin and into his hair. “I can make you a smoothie, or mashed potatoes, or any non-solid your heart desires.” He turns his head, mouthing help. 

Your face only crumples miserably, and James looks nearly like he might cry too but Sirius comes to his rescue. 

“Hey, sweet girl.” He palms the back of your head, careful of your face as he tilts it up towards him. “What’s got you so wound up, huh?” 

“He won’t let me have marshmallows,” you cry, words all garbled by the gauze in your mouth. 

“So mean,” Sirius commiserates. “I’ll do you one better and make you a chocolate milk, how’s that sound?” 

Your tears dry instantly. James lifts your ankle to take off your shoe, and you grip Sirius’ arms, beaming up at him. Or beaming as best you can, with your mouth all numb and full of cotton. 

“That sounds amazing,” you sigh, blissful. 

Sirius grins right back at you, his hand coasting down your neck and back up again. Remus can tell he’s dying to touch your face the way he normally would, but he restrains himself. “You’ve got a deal,” he says as James pries off your other shoe. “Come watch me work.” 

He steers you toward the kitchen, Remus passing a hand over your head as you go by. You give him a sweet, lovelorn look in return. 

“Can she have her gauze out soon?” he asks James once you’re in the kitchen. 

He sets your shoes by the door. “Yeah, it should be fine by now. They said a half hour.” James leans against the couch and passes a hand over his face. He looks so worn out Remus can’t help but cross the room to him, taking his hand and kissing it lightly.

“Was she very upset the whole time?” he asks.

“No, she’s been all over the place. Far worse than you, though.” 

Remus feels heat rise to his face at the memory. He’d had his wisdom teeth out last summer and reportedly spent the rest of the day clinging to whoever was nearest, grousing about how tired he was but never actually going to sleep. 

“Oh, uh…” James digs in his pocket. A few receipts and a dime come out, then a small bottle of pills. “They said she should start on these once she got home, but I can’t get them open. Can you try?” 

“Mhm.”

“Thanks.” James’ eyes widen, and he rushes off to the kitchen, saying something to Sirius about how they can’t let you use a straw. Remus follows a few steps behind, reading the label of the pill bottle before twisting the top off. It was childproofed, bless him. 

When he enters the kitchen, Sirius has you sat up on the counter and is poking around in your mouth. He takes out the gauze carefully, one piece at a time, and sets it on the counter. Remus makes a mental note to deep-clean that later. Your eyes follow Sirius’ movements, slowly widening. 

“Is all that blood from me?” Your voice carries a slight quiver. 

“That?” Sirius says swiftly. “No, that’s old blood. You’re good as new now.” 

“Oh,” you breathe, deflating a bit in relief. Remus chuckles, and your eyes fly to him, lighting. “Rem!” 

You open your arms wide. He steps into them, raising his eyebrows at James as you grip his shoulders tightly. 

“Told you,” James stage-whispers. “All over the place.” 

“I can hear you,” you say, words muffled into Remus’ sweater. He pets the back of your head pacifyingly. 

“How are you, sweetheart?” 

You take some time to mull this over. “M’okay,” you decide. “I’m a little sad they had to take my tongue, but it could be worse I guess.” 

“They didn’t take your tongue,” James says, like it’s not the first time he’s had to tell you this, “you just had some teeth removed.” 

“They’re dismantling me,” you say morosely. It’s clear you’ve accepted your fate. 

Remus strokes your hair again, leaning away slightly so you’ll look up at him. You do, and even with your glassed-over eyes and puffy cheeks you’re the cutest thing he’s ever seen. 

“I’m glad you’re not hurting too badly,” he hums, cupping the side of your head. You smile dopily and lean into the touch. “I’ve got a pill that’ll help make sure you don’t hurt later, too.” 

Sirius passes you your chocolate milk so you can take it, and James clucks about how you need to take slow, careful sips all the way until you’ve drained the glass. As soon as it’s out of your grasp you’ve replaced it with Remus’ hand, your fingers tracing the lines of his palm with idle fascination. 

“Feel like watching a film?” he asks you softly. 

You hum. “That sounds nice. Can I have the fuzzy pillow because they’re taking me apart?” 

Remus huffs a laugh, and James groans. “Nobody’s taking you apart, darling,” he reasons. “The dentist only took the unimportant bits.” 

“Bit by bit,” you sigh. 

James looks in distress, so Remus takes the crook of his elbow in hand, squeezing lightly as Sirius eases you off the counter and into his hold. Remus thinks you’ll be lucky if he releases you before tomorrow. 

“You can have all the pillows if you want them,” Sirius promises you. “My poor girl, being taken apart bit by bit. You can have whatever you want.”

[writing-fanics]

‘silly little love affair’ [part ii of ?]

Lucifer Morningstar x F!Reader [Adam’s Sister]

[warning: angst: mentions of abandonment: Lucifer being sad: mentions of depression: panic attack: mentions of death:]

previous part > next part

Lucifer sighed, as he sat alone at his desk. His hand working meticulously crafting another rubber duck, a past time something he could do to occupy himself. He sighed, slumping back in his chair, glancing over at the empty chair.

A [f/c] jacket draped over it, he could still hear her laughter echoing throughout the study and manor. His study, that was once decently cleaned after starting his relationship with [Y/n], had returned back to how it was before. Six months has past since he’s last seen her, and he was absolutely miserable and angry, once again he was abandoned by someone he loved.

[Y/n] became his second chance a fresh start. She was breathtaking a breath at new fresh air. A friendship that lasted three years and ended up, becoming a relationship. A secret one, one filled with her secretly traveling down to Hell to have dates and spend time together.

Of course, there were times later in their relationship when she ended up in his bed. Clothes scattered across the floor haphazardly, love marks on her neck and legs. Her waking up beside him, being forced to leave quickly to not be caught.

He sighed, laying his head in his desk. A frown on his face, bags under his eyes. He should’ve known that it was a matter of time, before she left him as well just like Lilith. Sometimes love doesn’t last forever.

On his desk sat an open velvet box with an engagement ring inside.

————-

Everything seemed to have gotten worse for [Y/n], especially with the extermination being in a week. Her sleep plagued with nightmares of her getting news, of Lucifer death. Of everyone’s death in Hell.

Waking up in a cold sweat panting and crying, from the nightmare that felt so real. Her entire body shaking as she ran her fingers through her hair . Breathing heavily uncontrollably, as the world started to spin around her as the thought of losing him shook her to her core.

She gripped the blanket, as her body started to shake. Her knuckles turning white as her breathing quickened. Her head started to feel light, as she gripped the side of her head. She felt as if the roll was getting smaller and smaller, her lungs barely able to take a breath.

She gripped the bedsheets, *squeak* she looked down her hands shaking seeing the rubber duck. She squeezed it again, tears trickling down her cheeks. As she remembered, Lucifer helping her when she had a panic attack when she’d almost gotten caught sneaking down to Hell.

His face gently and relaxed, his fingers underneath her chin the other on her shoulder and he slowly breathed in and out.

“There you go darling,” he said, softly gently tracing circles on her shoulder. She stared into his eyes getting lost in them, as he helped calm her down. How he kissed her forehead after and comforted her, his arm around her waist.

Her breathing calmed, and she held the rubber duck close to her chest. “It’s so unfair,” she whispered, laying back in bed with the rubber duck.

——

Emily looked at Sera, “But it’s my job to bring joy to others,” said Emily, as her and Sera argued about [Y/n]. Emily believed that [Y/n]’s punishment was unjust, punishing her all because she was in love is wrong.

Emily placed her hand over her heart, “She’s hurting, her wings are wilting. She’s fading, Sera.” She said sadly, “Why, can’t she be with him if they’re truly in love?” asked Emily.

Emily glared at her a sad look on her face, “Her halo was flickering she’s dying, and I’m just supposed to sit around and let that happen?” Emily said.

Sera sighs in response, “We’ve extended and used every possible resource we can. To help Y/n, but she’s chosen not to take the help from others.” said Sera, and Emily looked at her in shock.

“She’s made her decision,” said Sera, letting go and Emily’s hand. Emily furrowed her brows and exited the room angrily. She was supposed to bring Joy to others, and it didn’t settle right with her especially now, knowing about the extermination.

Slaughtering of innocent human souls and [Y/n]’s fading soul in heaven, she had to do something if she can’t do something about the souls in Hell.

She can at least help the one in Heaven.

sneak peek [part iii]

“You really do love him?” asked Emily, and [Y/n] lifted her head. A faint smile appeared across her tear stained face, as she held the rubber duck in her hand, “More than anything.” said [Y/n], looking at the younger seraphim with bags under her eyes.

A portal appeared beside Emily, “Go,” said Emily, a smile on her face. [Y/n] looked at her in shock confused, but she gestured towards the portal to hell. She saw it the familiar Morningstar Manor, tears trickled down her cheeks as her heart skipped a beat.

“Don’t worry about Sera or Adam, I’m doing my job bringing joy to others,” she said, looking at her a warm smile on her face.

Even before she started a relationship with Lucifer, she always hated being alone. She struggled making friends even in Heaven, only being able to with Emily. She didn’t like to talk much or converse with other people, she felt awkward around others. Which is why she bonded so quickly with Lucifer, she fell in love with him as they became friends.

He made her laugh, and smile. She felt safe and comfortable around him. When they shared their first kiss, she felt butterflies in her stomach and fireworks. She’s never felt this way about anyone before, and it was scary at first but she grew to love the feeling.

She loved him.

Taglist

@lxkeee @the-attention-whore @httpakasha @dickmastersworld

[krashlite]

Anyways my hot take abt the cheater’s arc is that all four of them were in the wrong but it was mostly Grian’s fault things went so horrendously since man was the reason why the actual Cheating part of the cheater’s arc happened (characters, obviously)

But yeah here’s how they were all wrong yes

Grian was being incredibly controlling because he didn’t trust Scar to keep them safe. Man was scared of his own damn shadow for a lot of this, but his way of ensuring his own safety was basically to tell Scar to stand in one place and not move. He pretty much disregarded the fact that Scar is a grown man capable of making his own decisions And capable of keeping himself, and the both of them, alive. The fact that they were last on green doesn’t reassure him, only confirms that he is in the right for being so controlling. He thinks his behavior kept them alive. He only loosens up once they hit their red life since at that point danger is assumed. Grian DOES NOT learn to respect Scar here, just puts his paranoia on hold for another day. His conclusion is that he was right and Scar was unreasonable

Scar was pushing back against said control since he knew it was unfounded. Again, he’s a grown man capable of making his own decisions. He has a tendency to mock people to show when they’re being ridiculous, something he does here through being purposefully careless. It’s both to point out how ridiculous Grian’s being and a way to punish him for being so obsessive. Instead of having the intended effect, Scar just pushes Grian further away. He later winds up just following everything Grian says, which doesn’t address the root of the problem here. Except he has no way of knowing what’s wrong because Grian doesn’t tell him. From his perspective, the only thing that got Grian back at his side was murder- since the only times they actually stood on equal footing was when there was a plan for a kill or when that plan went well. Scar’s conclusion here isn’t that he was unsafe, but that he was boring. So it reaffirms that he’s in the right and Grian was being unreasonable

BigB is not and never was the mistress in this situation. Had Grian never approached him, he would’ve never left Ren. He was using his Secret Soulmate as an escape from normal relationship problems he was too scared to address. BigB mainly felt overlooked because he has a quieter personality than Ren, meaning Ren wound up making most decisions for the two of them. BigB did a lot to mirror Ren and to be Ren’s other half, but didn’t give himself space to be his own person in the relationship. This is something that’s brought up in couple’s counseling and something they at least started to address before dying. BigB never intended to hurt either of them, since he did love and value both Ren and Grian- something that’s affirmed by how he talks to them after dying. BigB and Ren talk about how they stayed together until the end and B takes the time to forgive Grian for murdering both him and his soulmate

Ren was doing his best to keep Box afloat but failed to meet BigB’s needs. Since B wouldn’t communicate what was wrong, Ren kept trying to course correct in ways that inadvertently made the situation worse. Ren’s instinct is to be protective- to find an enemy to defend against. That enemy was first Pearl and then Clockduo when Bdubs inadvertently got BigB killed. He also reacted to news of B cheating by distancing himself from BigB. Which, reasonable!! Ren wasn’t obligated to save them if B was the one who left. However, this action only pushed BigB away since Ren was so quick to assume they were over. Ren has a habit of isolating himself when something’s wrong, assuming the worst of a situation when things can be fixed. It worked out between him and BigB in the end but goddamn was that rough

Anyways the four of them are very!! Very messy, I love them dearly

[txttletale]

how would you recommend watching doctor who? there are so many different guys idk how it works.

so the thing about doctor who is that there's two shows -- classic who (1963-1989, doctors 1-7) and new who (2005-2023, doctors 9-14). due to a renumber of the seasons and a change in production company, i think it's fair to call the upcoming version of who (2023-??, doctors 15-??) its own, third show. the reason it's been able to run for so long is that when the show's lead actor, (william hartnell as the titular doctor) had to step down in 1966 due to failing health, they made up some sci-fi bullshit: the doctor's species can 'regenerate' instead of dying, instantly healing but changing their appearance and some of their personality. this means that every time a lead actor has walked away (or, in one unfortuante case, been fired) the show's just recast the doctor and moved on, often with notable changes in tone and format.

the easiest option if you don't want to backwatch anything is to start with this year's christmas special, the church on ruby road (2023). it's an obvious jumping on point to the series, introduces you to all the basic stuff (the doctor, the TARDIS, the fact that it's a silly sci-fi show about fighting weird rubber prop critters), and presumably sets up the upcoming season 1 of the disney-bad wolf version of the show that's gonna come out in may 2024.

if you do want to backwatch, you have to decide if you want to start with new who or classic who. i personally would recommend starting with new who, because there's less of it, it's got higher production values, and (imo this is the biggest obstacle to getting into classic who) it's paced in a way that makes much more sense to a modern TV viewer (self-contained 45-minute episodes). also once you're invested in the show, its main character, and some of its classic elements, you get to soyjak at the screen whenever you're watching classic who and you get to see the oirign of a monster you already recognize. you can also skip classic who entirely and never watch it, they don't bring up anything from it in the new series without giving it a new explanation, but if you do this you hate fun.

anyway, starting points for nuwho: the most obvious one is rose (2005). it's the pilot episode for the new show and imo it holds up brilliantly -- it introduces all the most basic concepts of the show, but ultimately it's really all about billie piper and cristopher eccleston's performances and they deliver. the special effects are gonna be pretty terrible for a while because it's early 2000s cg. there's no jumping on point like it for the whole of RTD's run of the show (imo, the best run of nuwho) so if you want to watch seasons 1-4 you've gotta start on rose.

another episode that's written as a jumping on-point is (heavy sigh) the eleventh hour (2011). as well as introducing matt smith's doctor and his companion amy, this also does the whole rigamarole of introducing the show's core elements, giving a nutshell recap of its history in the form of the doctor's rooftop speech, and also signal what the oncoming moffat era is going to be like (whimsical, full of complex time travel plots, way more misogynist). i'm biased -- i'm a hater, one of this episode's central plot conceits sucks real bad and i also hate the eleventh doctor's whole run. but it is meant to be a jumping on point.

there won't be another one of those in nuwho until the pilot (2017). this begins moffat's final season with which he made the odd but extremely welcome decision to jettison all his convoluted continuity shit from the last five seasons and refocus the show with the doctor being a professor at bristol university with a mysterious secret. i think season 10 is a hidden gem and if you find starting from rose daunting this is the next best place to pick up. capaldi's doctor is a delightful abrasive eccentric with a heart of gold at this point in his run & the stories are wall-to-wall bangers with only a couple misses.

finally, you could start on the woman who fell to earth (2018), the first episode to feature jodie whittaker's 13th doctor and head writer chris chibnall. i'd recommend this even less than the eleventh hour, because while i actually like it more, i think it's a much worse preview of what the upcoming era is going to be like than that one. if you watch the woman who fell to earth and keep watching from the start of whittaker's run on the show off the back of it, you're going to be severely disappointed as most of the more promising aspects of the episode get instantly abandoned.

so, summary, if you're starting with nuwho, there's five jumping on points, which i'd rank:

rose > the pilot > the church on ruby road > the eleventh hour > the woman who fell to earth

but i want to start with classic who because i'm a contrarian

alright. classic who also has a few jumping off points -- before i mentioned them, let me just talk about that format thing i mentioned earlier. classic who doesn't have self-contained episodes for the most part, but rather for most of its run told each of its episodic narratives across between two and seven 20-minute episodes. this leads to a lot of weird pacing, forced cliffhangers, and infamously a lot of filler shots of the doctor running up and down identical corridors. so obvsies i'm recommending entire stories here nad not individual episodes. that said, let's look at where you could jump on:

an unearthly child (1963). this is, like, the start of the show. that said i don't recommend it as a place to start (funnily enough), for a couple reasons. firstly, because of dreadful fucking archiving by the BBC, a lot of episodes from the show's first six seasons are straight up missing. some of them have been animated by the BBC from surviving audio recordings, but some of them are just straight up lost -- due to the format, this means there's very few full complete stories, which makes this whole era really hard to navigate. if you don't mind that and really want to start in the black and white era, i'd still recommend the tomb of the cybermen (1967) instead -- hartnell's portrayal of the doctor as a haughty, slightly impish old professor is great, but troughton basically defined the character's core traits for the next sixty years.

spearhead from space (1970) is a pretty big format upheaval for the show and so serves as a pretty great classic jumping-on point. it's the first episode to be in colour, and sets up a new status quo for the doctor as being trapped on earth and working for an elite paramlitary organization called UNIT that operates out of a ratty office. it's an interesting premise that the show gets some great stories out of. the special effects are bad in the best way. pertwee has instant charm in the role and it's all around a banger by classic standards.

if you want to jump right to the one all the boomers are nostalgic for, you can also start with robot (1974). i wouldn't recommend it, though--tom baker is electric in the role from the start, but the episode itself kind of assumes a lot of the context of the third doctor's setup and supporting cast which you're not gonna have.

i wouldn't recommend anyone start at any point during the fifth or sixth doctors runs because i want them to actually like the show, so i guess the last jumping on point i could really recommend after robot would be, like, dragonfire (1987), which heralds the show's short-lived renaissance with the seventh doctor and his best companion, ace. but although you'd be watching some of the absolute best the classic show ever gets, it feels like it would be a weird and disorienting place to start.

finally, you could watch tales of the tardis (2023), a limited series produced to celebrate the show's 60th anniversary. each episode follows the same format: through a vaguely handwaved Palace of Memories plot, two much-aged characters from the classic series meet up and fondly remember one of the adventures they shared. the bookends with the original actors are mostly shameless fanservice, but the episodes they're reminiscing about are superbly edited down into a much more watchable format -- it works as a good 'sample platter' for most eras of the show (although, weirdly, there wasn't anything from tom baker's run!) and i think it honestly wouldn't be a bad shout to just start from tales of the tardis and then keep watching from whichever of the stories featured in it you liked most. that all said, if you want to start with classic who, i'd rank these jumping on points as follows:

spearhead from space > tales of the tardis > tomb of the cybermen > dragonfire > robot > an unearthly child

all that shit said it's fundamentally a very episodic show with very few exceptions like trial of a time lord and whatever moffat was doing seasons 6-7 so in the end you can basically just start with any episode and more or less get some of the idea. have fun and make sure to do the most important job of a doctor who fan, update the tardis wiki page for penis whenever one is mentioned

[caelivir]

red lips, dying for a kiss | rayne ames

— synopsis. in which rayne discovers that red lip combos are his weakness.

— pairing. rayne ames x fem!reader

— genres. university au, friends-ish to lovers, rayne has a little bit of a crush

— word count. 2.3k

— warnings. very brief violence mention in the beginning, alcohol consumption (rayne and reader are 21 in this), making out (i tried to keep it brief), ooc rayne but he’s kinda drunk so

— notes. breaking theme for this one but it’s okay. i wanted to drop this on valentine’s day… clearly that didn’t work out. also as i go to post this hidden lights reached 1k notes which is absolutely insane to think of. thank you for giving it so much love. anyway, happy 100 followers! thanks for sticking with me. enjoy!

dedicated to all the rayne girlies. i pray we find (or already have) a man like him. ♡

ryoh’s parties are always a bad idea. rayne can’t count the number of times something has gone wrong. cops show up. someone locks every single bathroom from the inside. a dumbass jumps off the roof and into the pool. any incident you could think of has probably happened. the last one rayne went to nearly got him screwed over when he fought against a guy picking on his brother, and it was not pretty (for the other guy) to say the least.

from that moment on, rayne had made the decision to never attend another one of ryoh’s parties. it doesn’t matter who begged him or what the circumstances were. no one was going to change his mind on that.

unfortunately, ryoh grantz would not have that. it took three days and a two hundred dollar bribe to convince rayne to go because who would he be if not taking advantage of the rich.

so that’s where he finds himself now, standing in a circle with his friends as music blasts in ryoh’s mansion. they talk about who knows what as rayne wishes he could go home. he has to see it out though because this would be the easiest two hundred dollars he would ever make.

his second red solo cup of the night is filled with some unknown (but surprisingly delicious) concoction that sits untouched. he swirls the cup around in his hand, his eyes darting around the room for an escape.

rayne chugs his entire drink down, setting the empty cup on the first surface he finds before mumbling an excuse of having to use the bathroom, not caring whether his friends heard it or not. he stops by the kitchen to rummage through a cooler, skin freezing as he digs through the ice. he finds two cans of a beer brand that he likes.

he weaves through the crowd in the living room, trying his best to not bump into anyone or spill any drinks because the last thing he needs is another altercation.

unfortunately for him, life always has a curveball in store for him.

“hey, look! (y/n)’s here!” someone had yelled, causing people to push closer towards the front door. the flow carries him closer despite his protests.

the half blonde finds you easily. it’s hard to miss your bright smile, even in a room surrounded by dozens. a crowd surrounds you and your group of friends. they greet you with hellos, offer drinks, and fight for your attention. you try your best to address everyone as you and your friends inch closer to the dance floor.

rayne knows you. your friend groups overlap often so he was bound to meet you at one point. you're popular around campus, known for your friendly nature, kind acts, and most of all, you're known for your beauty. he hears about a new attempt to gain your affection almost weekly. you never seem to accept them for some odd reason. it doesn't matter who it is. the d1 basketball prodigy? the rich girl in your philosophy class? they'd be rejected all the same. your lack of care for relationships has sparked up rumors, but even those never seem to faze you.

as for his opinion on you, rayne acutally likes you, which is a rare feat considering that the half-blonde cannot stand the presence of most people. but in this case, he likes you. he has the smallest of crushes that he wouldn't dare to admit to anyone except his brother, maybe.

in the times your paths had crossed, you had been an easy person to be around, never doing anything to irritate him and always trying to include him in every conversation and activity. it makes him feel all warm inside. the thought of it brings the ghost of a smile onto his face.

he also can't deny that you are indeed one of the most beautiful people that he's ever come across. you would have to be a fool to try and deny that. it's a little shallow on his part to like you partly for your looks, but he can't help it when your smile has the power to blind angels.

"rayne?" your head tilts, surprise written all over your face. he locates two shots in your hands. "woah, i'm surprised you're here! people said you wouldn't come to these anymore!"

rayne is barely to pick up the sound of your voice over all the music. "got paid to be here." he speaks loudly, avoiding yelling as much as he can.

"well, that's one way to get someone to come to a party." you giggle.

it's at this point where rayne closely inspects your face. his eyes are immediately drawn to your lips, colored in a combination of reds. he's never seen it on you before, and paired with the rest of the makeup on your face, it stands out, commands attention.

and it looks… really fucking good. rayne takes the sight of you in fully. yeah, you look really fucking good tonight. the half-blonde gulps, forcing his eyes back up to your face.

"take this with me!" you urge rayne, holding out a plastic shot glass to him.

unwilling to bring himself to say no to you, rayne sighs, accepting it. the two of you raise your glasses up in a silent toast before pressing the plastic to his lips, tilting his head back, and letting the alcohol slide down his throat. it burns. it tastes horrid on his tastebuds. the half-blonde scrunches his nose in disgust, and you take the empty glass from him, how you went unbothered by such a disgusting beverage is beyond him.

as much as rayne wishes he could be with you, he desperately longs to find someplace quiet. the bass of the music pounds against his head. "i'll see you around, (y/n). have fun tonight. be safe." rayne says.

"oh okay. see you rayne." you frown, but maybe that's just the lighting messing with him. he swears there's disappointment laced in your voice, but that could also just be the alcohol playing games with him.

rayne makes his way upstairs. he prays that he won't barge into people having sex. luckily for him, it's still early, and the room that he chooses, the one at the very end of the hall, is empty. he relaxes the moment he locks the door as if a weight was being lifted off him.

the half-blonde sets his unopened beers onto the nightstand and lies on the made bed. he stares at the ceiling for fifteen minutes, contemplating his life choices. his thoughts drift to you and your gorgeous lips, but he’s quick to dismiss them. when he’s finished with that, he cracks open his first beer, leaving a ring of condensation on the nightstand, and opens up his phone.

the next hour or so is spent watching compilations of bunnies and sipping on his beers. it’s perfectly fine like this. save for the bass of the music bouncing against the walls, it’s peaceful. he feels the effects of the alcohol he drank humming in his veins. it puts him into a lighter mood. however, that peace is disturbed when there’s a loud pounding on the door.

“what the hell?” rayne mumbles under his breath. did someone confuse this room for the bathroom? the half-blonde pulls himself out of bed, unlocks the door, and cracks it open just a little bit to see who it is.

“rayne, is that you? oh my god, please let me in.” you beg, clasping your hands together in prayer.

confused, but without any complaint, he allows you into the room, shutting the door behind him and locking it.

you practically collapse on the edge of the bed, and rayne can sense that something is amiss.

“are you alright?” he asks cautiously, standing a foot away from you.

“do you ever just get sick of people?” you ponder suddenly, shooting to sit straight up.

“sure.” rayne shrugs, still unmoving from his spot.

“you can’t tell anyone i told you this,” you point at him with narrowed eyes, voice slurred. “swear you won’t.”

“i won’t.”

“good.” you nod. “as i was saying, i get so sick of people sometimes. being popular is fucking exhausting. i don’t know how much longer i can keep up with this. i swear i can’t enjoy things on my own time without people barging in or commenting on it.

“i can’t sit on a couch to catch my breath without people wanting to talk to me. not that that’s bad of course, i love talking to people, but christ, just back up a bit. like can’t they just take a hint and realize that i don’t want to talk? do you get that?”

rayne nods. “must be rough.”

“it is,” you groan and then sigh, standing up to dust off your clothes. you stumble from dizziness after having gotten up too fast. however, you shake the feeling out. “sorry, i shouldn’t have dumped all of that on you. that was a stupid thing to complain about.”

“no, it wasn’t.” rayne argues. “people who are always in your space are fucking annoying. i would know so there’s nothing wrong with feeling that way.” at this point, he could tell the alcohol is doing its number on him, making him more vocal and bold.

“do i annoy you, rayne?” you ask, eyelashes batting at him, this innocent worry behind your eyes. it drives him mad.

“no.” he says sternly, inching closer, his gaze falling to your crimson lips. that damn red lipstick. he wonders what would happen if he were to mess it up. what would happen if he were to ruin that precise lining of color? what you let him cross that line? in his tipsy state of mind, he wants to find out.

“are you sure? because i know whenever we see each other i kinda cling to you, but if that bothers you, just let me know. really it’s no-” you ramble before rayne cuts you off.

“i want to kiss you.” the half-blonde mutters. his eyes stare deep into your own. your eyebrows raise in shock.

"huh?"

"i want" rayne's hand flexes at his side as he exhales, resisting the urge to touch you. "to kiss you."

"why?" you whisper so quietly that he almost didn't hear you.

maybe this is a reckless decision. maybe he shouldn't be risking a friendship with a drunken mind, but honestly in the moment, he really couldn't care less. he can regret it in the morning if things fell apart.

"i like you." rayne admits.

a moment of silence falls onto the room. you stare and stare, sinking your eyes deep into rayne’s as his confession weighs further down onto you.

“oh thank god.” you exhale, pulling rayne in by his shirt.

rayne practically melts into the feeling of your lips, soft against his own. he can taste faint traces of alcohol on you. he places his hands on your hips to press your bodies together. his palms explore your figure, circling around your lower back, trailing upwards to your ribs and back down to your waist. your hands entangle themselves in his hair, eliciting a soft groan out of him.

kissing you is a feeling like no other. it’s straight euphoria, maybe even something greater than that. the butterflies flap violently on his stomach. fireworks ignite his blood. being with you is like soaring across the sky.

you deepen the kiss, exploring each other with such desperation that it makes you dizzy. his tongue moves against yours in perfect sync, as if it were a choreographed dance. by the time you pull away to catch air, you and rayne are breathless, huffing as the half-blonde rests his forehead against yours.

you beautiful red lipstick is now smeared across your mouth, staining at the corners and below the chin. rayne pulls his head back. his fingers graze over your lips, admiring the mess. he’s sure it transferred onto him as well.

“you got something right there.” you joke, pointing at him.

“shut up.” he whispers. however, a smile breaks out onto his face, betraying his words.

“so,” you say, snaking your arms around the half-blonde’s waist. “the rayne ames has a crush on me? i never thought i’d see the day.”

he hums as confirmation. “would i be wrong to guess that you like me too?”

“no.” you grin. “in fact, you’d be one hundred percent right.”

“wonderful.” he mutters, leaning in for another kiss. you turn your head, having him miss your mouth entirely.

“i’m starting to believe you only like me so you could have a make out partner.” you tease, causing the half-blonde to sigh at your antics.

“i like you because you’re kind.”

he pecks one cheek.

“because you’re fun.”

he pecks the other.

“because you’re intelligent.”

he presses his stained lips to your forehead.

“because you’re so beautiful.”

rayne kisses the tip of your nose.

“my beautiful, (y/n).” he mumbles with a barely noticeable slur, cupping your face.

“you should drink more often. i like this side of you.” you comment, looking up at him with a gaze that drives him crazy.

“please just let me kiss you again.” rayne quietly begs, his mouth centimeters from yours.

“kiss me whenever you want.” you whisper before colliding with him once more.

in the morning, ryoh has to pick the lock to get into the guest bedroom. he stumbles in pissed off and ready to blow up on the person who dared to put him through such a hassle.

however, the sight he walks into flips his mood instantly. ryoh finds you and rayne tangled in each other’s arms completely knocked out. upon closer inspection, he notes the matching lipstick stains on both of your mouths, and a knowing smirk spreads across his face.

the blonde man pulls out his phone, snapping pictures in different angles to solidify this moment in history.

“he better thank me for this.” ryoh says to himself before walking out and shutting the door behind him.