#nobody but splash and i even know who she is at this point but i had to fucking draw this OK?

[holeguard]

or in rezra’s case, the most vulgar shit she has ever heard in several lives

[mypoisonedvine]

𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺 | ghostface!darren (pig) x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | he probably wasn't even invited to this party, because who would invite him? but he came anyways... just to torment you. far more than you could've imagined, in fact.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 | 2.5k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | NONCON DARK SMUT 18+ ONLY!!, public sex, degradation, pain kink, knife kink, a bit of predator/prey, blood kink, smoking, unprotected sex/implied risk of pregnancy, darren is kind of an incel lmao

It was a pretty traditional high school party— overcrowded, loud and sweaty, bad music and worse liquor— but at least the sea of costumes, ranging from scary to silly to sexy, added at least some new layer of interest to the whole thing.

You hadn’t tried very hard with your devil costume— more accurately an attempt at a ‘sexy devil’ costume— but you put on horns and heels with a tight red dress and nobody can really complain.  You weren’t really here to get into the ‘spooky spirit’ or whatever anyways, just an excuse to drink and maybe chat with some people you’d been missing.

The person you ended up chatting to right in that moment, though, was exactly the last person you wanted to talk to.

You didn’t even know there was someone behind you until you felt him press up to your back, suddenly hovering right by you.  “Want a drink?” he asked, shoving a cup towards you, but you were too busy nearly jumping out of your skin to care— you almost knocked the drink over, actually some of it did splash onto another partygoer, but she was too drunk to notice.

“Fuck!” you yelped, turning to see the gangly boy behind you.  “Christ, Darren, do you have to always sneak up on a girl like that?”

He just smiled and tried to offer the drink to you again.

“M’already holding one,” you pointed out with a frown, “didn’t ya notice?”

“O-oh yeah,” he mumbled, lowering the cup finally.  “Costume looks good.”

“Thanks,” you shrugged, though you suddenly felt the urge to tug down the bottom of your dress.

“You’re not worried what the boys are gonna think with you dressed like that?” he asked, and you glared at him as you shoved his shoulder.  

“Don’t you think before you open your fuckin’ mouth?” you spat.  “What are you, anyway?”

The black robes didn’t really tell you anything— not until he reached behind his head and pulled a Ghostface mask over his face.

“Oh,” you snorted, “not the most original, is it?”

“Don’t like t’movie?” he wondered as he pulled the mask back again.

“I mean, it’s pretty good,” you relented, “but—”

“You wanna fuck ‘im, don’t you?” he insisted suddenly with a lascivious grin. 

“What?” you squinted.

“Ghostface,” he clarified, “you’re one of the girls who thinks he’s fit, yeah?”

“Why are you always such a creep?” you asked him with a grimace, but then you decided to change the topic quickly.  “Kinda thought you’d be a pig or something,” you admitted, “with the nickname and all.”

“Nah, that’s stupid,” he rolled his eyes, crossing his arms— which made you notice the prop knife in his hand.  It actually looked pretty good, shinier than most plastic costume knives.

Just then, Jimmy O’Doyle sauntered up beside you, slipping his arm around your shoulders.  “Ay, little devil,” he greeted, flicking the red horns on your head as you smiled sheepishly.

He hardly acknowledged Darren, spare for a quick nod, but Darren was staring at Jimmy for a little too long before he looked at you again.

“Thought you said you didn’t want a boyfriend,” Darren said sharply, glowering a bit.

Jimmy scoffed and you shifted uncomfortably; Darren tended to be… what’s the word… desperate?  Clingy?  Overall bizarre?  He certainly couldn’t take much of a hint.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you said first, though that didn’t really matter— you didn’t need any reason to reject Darren, outside of your natural self-preservation instinct.  He actually wasn’t bad-looking, but it was hard to tell past those leering eyes and the uncomfortable smile.  He wasn’t smiling now though… he looked quietly enraged, sipping pointedly on his drink as he glanced away for a moment.  

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” Jimmy smirked at you, hardly waiting for your nod before disappearing back into the crowd.

Suddenly, as you felt Darren’s livid gaze from awkwardly close, you decided that you needed a little fresh air.  And by that, you really meant a cigarette.

Not wanting to tell Darren that you were going outside for a smoke, you instead mumbled some excuse about going to the loo— somewhere he was just sane enough not to follow you to— and bumped through the crowd until you found a door out into the neighbourhood.

There was a slight drizzle still going outside— more of a misting, really— that made everything all foggy and grey, spare for the yellow-y glow of the streetlamps dotting the way.  It wasn’t a full moon, as cool as that would be, but near to one… regardless, it wasn’t visible behind low, dark clouds, leaving the night starless and dreary.  There wasn’t much to look at in the alley as you lit your cigarette and took slow drags from it, so as you stared blankly forward at brick walls with chipping whitewash, your mind wandered a bit.  Nothing of great merit: upcoming assignments, the possibility of an afterparty, the lingering hope you could find a steamy hook-up for the night… you didn’t just put this outfit on for the pictures.

Before you could get too far into your imagination, you were startled by a distant sound, jumping slight as your head turned towards it— but it was just the dark alley, not much to see.  You squinted, trying to make out movement in the shadows, but for quite a while you couldn’t see anything.

Only when you turned your head back forward with a shrug was there any sign of what you’d heard, just a shift in the corner of your eye.  You looked at it again, and you hated to admit it, but your heart froze up for a second when that white face emerged from the darkness.

Of course, you gave your best unaffected scoff when you actually processed what you were looking at.

“Quit it, Darren,” you warned, willing your voice to sound stable as you shouted down the road towards him, “you’re not gonna scare me.”

You watched him move closer, stepping into the light so you could see him better, and tried to ignore the way the hairs on your neck stood up.  If he knew he was getting to you, he’d just keep doing it; you rolled your eyes and took a drag through your cigarette to try to seem nonchalant… but you had to stop your hand from shaking just a bit.  Only because it was chilly out, surely…

You thought it was a joke— a stupid joke, but still just a joke— until he dragged his knife along the brick wall as he stalked toward you.  The sharp, high-pitched screech of metal against stone was unmistakable… and that was how you realised it was a real knife.  A very sharp, very real knife; he’s going to actually kill me, you thought, just before you let out a primal and instinctive scream.

Turning on your heel, you ran as fast as you could.  Each rapid pulse of your heart pumped adrenaline through your veins, and you felt so shaky that you worried the light night breeze would knock you over.  

These were far from running shoes, though— they were pretty excruciating to just stand in, actually— and it was only a few blocks of a chase before you tripped.  Yelping in pain, you tried to scramble up or even crawl forward… but just as you rolled over and winced from landing on your hip, you saw him stalking forward into the flickering light of a streetlamp.

He was probably just going to take the mask off and laugh at you, right?  Reveal the whole thing was a silly prank and the knife was fake and that he just wanted to prove you were scared of him.  Yes, that would be the most sane thing for him to do at that moment, even after being so not-sane by chasing you with a knife.  Instead, as you tried to crawl back, he just tilted his masked head curiously at you, and with his free hand reached down and palmed at his groin.  He was hard— you could see the outline of it through his costume, his hips rocking forward slightly into his palm as you heard a muffled hiss from his mouth.

He knelt down and grabbed your kicking legs, roughly yanking you closer and hovering above you menacingly.  “C’mon and scream for me,” he ordered with a delighted purr, pulling his mask back, laughing when what came out of you was more of a wail or sob instead.  “Louder, y’little whore—”

“Get off me!” you shrieked, trying to fight him away, whining as he laid down over you instead and licked your neck.  You turned your head with a grimace, shuddering as his weight pinned you against the slightly-damp pavement.

“G’na show Pig how tight the little hole gets when you’re scared— aren’t ya, fuckin’ slut?”

“Be serious, Darren— s’not funny, get away from me!”

You struggled less when he flashed the knife; as little as you could, in fact you actually nearly froze as he teased you with it, running the tip down the front of your dress with just enough pressure to pop a few sequins off, making you whimper in terror.  He laughed, though— a small, dark, chuckle.  “Quiet now,” he noticed.  “Don’t make a fuss, sweetheart.”

You had to bite your lip to hide a shout, though, when a gloved hand up slipped under your short dress, grabbing greedily at your lacy panties.  He licked his teeth, bared by his grin, as he stared at you with those haunting eyes of his.  “Wet, aren’tcha, girl?” he taunted— not that he’d be able to feel it through his black gloves, but past your own groaning you could almost hear it (though you tried not to).

“You’re such a creep!” you spat, though you tried to regulate your tone as you glanced at his knife again, held against you by one of his hands on your arm; maybe part of you still thought he would stop and admit it was a joke, but the darkness in his stare made you doubt that more and more.  The gravity of the situation still hadn’t really set in yet— sure, you were coursing with fear and had goosebumps all over, but it didn’t totally feel real.

“Won’t take too long,” he promised with a sigh as he hastily tugged his costume out of the way, still pinning you down with one hand (if not as effectively).  When he roughly yanked his cock out, proudly brandishing it between your legs as your eyes went wide… that’s when it felt real.

“Don’t,” you gasped instantly, looking up at him with pleading eyes.  “Don’t, Darren, please— you can’t—”

“Shh,” he hissed quickly, “s’good— gonna feel good, alright?”

He gasped loudly as he pushed inside you, eyes shutting tight before he dropped his head down onto your chest.  “Fuck, girl— what’s a whore cunt so tight for?”

Not wasting any time, he pulled his hips back and roughly thrusted forward into you again, making you choke on your cry.

“S’for me, isn’t it?” he decided with a sick sort of grin.  “Want Pig to feel good?  Like t’squeeze the thick cock, don’t ya?”

“I— I fuckin’ hate you,” you whimpered, shutting your eyes tight, in disgusted disbelief that this was happening— that it was him inside you, holding you down.  But you couldn’t forget it, not with him moaning and purring above you, mumbling stuttered praises… and the feeling of it, it was impossible to ignore, as much as you hoped to somehow.  It was a deep stretch, each thrust making your chest tighten out of more than just fear.

“Mmf, fuck,” he grunted, holding onto you tighter— another reminder he still had that fucking knife.  “Pretty— it’s a pretty thing… it’s warm inside…”

Grimacing, you hated the way your body responded to his lewd comments about it; your walls clenched on him slightly, you could tell by the way you felt even more sore inside than before.

He pressed the knife up against your neck, growling in amusement at your wince of fear.  “Think Pig’s gonna slice you?”

“I… I don’t know,” you stammered out your answer, eventually.

“Waste of a pretty face, no?” he smirked, moving the knife up and caressing the side of your face with it— not that it could really be called a caress, all rigid and cold like that… “Say please.”

“Huh?”

“Say please,” he repeated, “beg me not to hurt you.”

“Already are,” you sneered at him, but he pressed the knife to your neck with a little more intention— a little more pressure, a wild look in his eyes suddenly— as he insisted again.

“Wanna hear you beg,” he spat.  “Do it or Piggy might hurt you worse.”

“Please, please,” you whispered shakily, shutting your eyes.  “Please don’t, Darren…”

You gasped sharply as he pressed the knife down just enough to draw a thin line of blood, only to pull the blade away and lick hungrily at the wound.  Feeling dizzy and sick, you winced at the sting of his tongue lapping at your pierced skin, lips wrapping around and suckling as teeth dug painfully into your pulse.

He thrusted faster, recklessly so, and bit down on his lip as he breathed heavier.  You were too focused on how painfully deep he was going to really process anything when he started to slow down— that is, you felt that he was slowing down, and didn’t think for a minute about why he was slowing down.  

His loud, low groan gave it away; you snapped back to reality and looked up at him in a new kind of fear.  “Fuck, Darren, did you just—?!” you whimpered, squirming harder as you realised what he’d done.

“Shh, shh,” he soothed you sharply, hissing as he grabbed a tight hold of your hip.  “Stay fuckin’ still, girl— fuck, I’m still coming—”

You yelped and tried harder to fight him off, but he kept you pinned down easily, even forcing you into a rough and sloppy kiss.

He sighed into it after a second, relaxing on top of you until it was a little hard to breathe under his weight.  You whined and tried to break away, but the hand with the knife still in it held your jaw, the cold metal pressing threateningly against your face.

Whimpering and blinking up at him, you met his icy gaze and he smiled proudly down at you.  “Little devil, eh?” he smirked as he toyed with your horned headband, which had become quite dishevelled from all the running and struggling.  “Your blood matches the outfit— poor whore, red all over…”

“Darren,” you choked, fighting a sob of disbelief as you felt him pull out of you with a hiss— a steady, sticky leak giving away how much he’d come.  “What the fuck did you do?”

“Don’t be fussin’, girl, like I said,” he rolled his eyes, though he was still grinning wide.  “Ready to go back to the party now?  Or do you just want Pig to take y’home, sweetheart?” 

[thebottomfromhell]

Hi, i would like to request a hantengu clones (you can add zohakuten or original hantengu) x (any gender) reader, so reader is (most of the time or maybe all the time) really really nice but something had snapped inside reader, they/he/she go all mad because of an argument or maybe something had happened with someone they had bumped into.

I will use GN for this one, I hope nobody minds. I also disn't know if this meant individually, but I took it as if you wanted a drabble... I hope I was right and that you like this work.

GN nice reader snaps at the Hantengu Clones (ft. Hantengu) after a bad day

Warnings: Polyamory, Implied Self-cest (due a poly, nothing about it actually there), Angst.

You don't like too much attention or to cause trouble, you also hate treating others badly, even when they deserve it. For all of that, more often than not you tend to hold your tongue and keep your mouth shut everytime you get angry, and if the situation doesn't get better you leave the space and go back the second you manage to calm down. Sometimes it works better than others, there are still time you got to face the situation still angry, but having your time and space always help.

Today, though? It was a nightmare. It seemed everything and everyone today needed you urgently, didn't give you any time to even eat or drink something, and for some reason more than one people had the urge to talk back to you today for stupid things. Now you are tired, hungry, resented... this doesn't help. This days has already ended, you are unsatisfied about it, yet, you don't have it in you to do something about it.

It doesn't help that you know what is waiting for you at home, Hantengu and his clones. Don't misunderstand, you adore these guys, to the point you are in a romantic relationship with the clones, sometimes you even feel like the owner of a harem with them around, but... they are pretty handy. Not only by their nature of being a human flesh eating demon that burns under the sun, but the fact that they are the personification of an specific emotion each, some even opposites to each others. Because of that, the fact that they act up on that emotion and clash with each other is to be expected, so you are the one who must put order in your own home.

So you sigh as you get home, contemplating just... staying outside or going to an inn to spend the night. You can imagina already Karaku and Sekido making a mess in their arguments, Urogi clinging to you, Hantengu sobbing with no end and and Aizetsu... well, Aizetsu will not do anything wrong but he also won't be helpful at all, and you are not in position to really care about it.

Then, the door opens and you need to swallow a groan of frustration when Urogi comes out and gets on top of you. "Y/N! Y/N! You're home!" Usually you would find this endearing and cute, but you are not in the mood. "Yeah, I'm home..." you say tired as you support yourself with the wall as you get in, not even bothering in closing the door behind you. If someone or something gets in then there is a demon to face, not that it matters. "Welcome." You nod at it, too tired to actually answer, even worse with Urogi on top of you. Aizetsu tilts his head but he doesn't say anything else, just close his eyes and keep himself to and for himself. Most likely bracing himself for the next part.

"You DISGUSTING PIG! I'l KILL YOU, Karaku!" You hear ceramics break, well, there goes a tea cup. "C'mon, Sekido. We both know you are just jealou-" the sound of flesh being penetrated and a liquid splashing in a surface interrupt him, and now you gotta clean your kitchen. Oh joy, that is sarcasm. Usually, you would try to ask what is going on and intervene before they break something actually vauable or needed in the household, but right now you are becoming every time more frustrated. "Eeeeeck! It wasn't me! It wasn't me!"

Breath... count to ten... anything... just don't- "CUT IT OUT, FUCKING-!" you shut yourself up before finishing the sentence, making everyone look at you, making you feel embarrased, making the anger fade away into a more miserable feeling. You want to cry, scream into a pillow, be comforted, to sleep, to eat. You don't want this. Why is your day hoing so bad? "I'm sorry..." you whisper as you cower away, face a bit heated, eyes a bit blurry and throat with a knot that starts to fill your nose with the need to sob.

Urogi gets off you to see you as the others also get close, minus Hantengu, he keeps cowering away, but at least has the decency to cover his own sobs. "Y/N, are you ok?" "Shhhh, shhh, babe, it's ok. Let's go to sit down." Aizetsu is the one who grab you and guide you to sit as the other stares. "Stay here. I'll bring tea." But you don't want tea, amd that sounded ungrateful to yourself. There is a moment that the only noise are your contained sobs as the other clones see you, making you cover your face with your hands put of shame, only rubbing your nose and eyes.

"Karaku. Urogi. Take some steps back!" They do, giving you a bit more of space. "Bad day?" He ask, softer, to you, as you can only nod with the soreness in your throat and the lack of trust you have in not starting to cry right away. "Is there anything we can do?" You shake your head as Aizetsu puts the tea in fron mt of you and Karaku streches a hand to pat your back. You stay like this for a while, until you fall asleep with them tryibg to comfort you.

It really sucked.

[norman-fucking-reedus]

high late night thought but I have this crazy idea about the reader making Daryl a multifunctional wooden crossbow and its frying my brain

It happened as the two of you were making your way back to your campsite after a long day of splashing and hand catching fish in the lake, Daryl nudged your shoulder with his and pointed to a deer. “M’gon get it” He whispered, already aimming his crossbow.

You turned your head briefly, checking to see where Dog had wondered off too when you heard what sounded like elastic snapping, followed by Daryl’s very frantic cursing.

“What happened?!” When you whipped around, Daryl was already crouched around the bow as he made an attempt to fix it. You got next to him to try and see what was wrong. “It didn’t fire like it was supposed ta… Hold tha part” Your fingers pinched the piece he pointed at, watching as his hands slightly trembled as he tried to re string the bow to the actual trigger, you holding down the piece that clamps the trigger into place.

Snap.

Daryl held up the fully broken string, feeling his heart break along with it.

“Fuck, I’m sorry Daryl” You whispered as you placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. He shook his head, once again trying to jam the string ends back into place but to no avail, only further damaging the weapon. He exhaled in frustration. “I’ve had this damned thing since I was a teenager, it was tha’ first thing Merle ever got fer me” Daryl mumbled, rolling the thick bowstring in his hands. His chest hurt and there was a small lump building in his throat.

You stared down at the crossbow, analyzing it’s shape before carefully picking it up to take a better look at the mechanics. “C’mon. We can figure something out handsome”

It took you a few months to figure something out.

Over that time period, Daryl was absolutely crushed.

He was visibly upset, snapping and yelling at anyone who talked to him, on one occasion at Judith, but he quickly apologized.

It was obvious to everyone that Daryl’s crossbow was of extreme sentimental value, and it would take time for him to heal. Carol had offered to teach him how to use a standard bow, only to be dismissed with an agitated “I used a goddamn bow ‘nd arrow before”

Daryl was frustrated with nobody but himself, frustrated that the countless times he’s had to fix the thing, he couldn’t do it one more time.

You spent the first half of the first month studying how all the strings worked and the mechanisms of the weapon in general. It wasn’t complicated, especially when you started to pick stuff apart. You spent the other half brainstorming and designing ideas for a more sturdier and functional crossbow, trying to stay calm as you watched Daryl intimidatingly stalk around the community. You felt bad knowing you both blamed yourselves, even though it was neither one of yours fault.

You got lucky in the second month, when you and Carol had gotten lost in the woods, and your only flashlight stopped working.

You just couldn’t keep it to yourself anymore, “I’m trying to make Daryl a new crossbow” You blurted out as the two of you stopped walking. Carol turned to you in the dark, striking a match as she did. “That’s nice, how’s it goin?” She smiled softly at your eye roll. “I just don’t know exactly to build it, let alone design” You scoffed, kicking a rock. You weren’t some kind of handyman, but it made busied your mind to have something to build or deconstruct. “Well, we’re in the forest. Why not get some wood?” Carol struck another match, your eyes flickering towards the sound, watching the stick ignite into flames. You nodded, smiling absently as you followed her.

When you got home, you dropped the logs and rummaged through the drawers, grabbing a box of matches and speed walking over to your drawing pad.

You pulled the crossbow out from where you kept it, placing it on the table and quickly walking back to snatch up the logs.

There was more than enough to make a decent amount of arrows, and to try creating a new piece to properly re-string the previously broken one, plopping down into a chair as you started to pick apart the weapon, creative thoughts beginning to flow.

You used your large knife to chop and carve the wood, occasionally nicking yourself or cutting just a little too much off. You took breaks inbetween to draw out ideas, standing up to get a better look before sitting back down, scribbling on the paper or dragging the sharp blade down a wooden piece.

By the third month, you were gluing and securing down new parts and pieces, following a vision in your head.

The crossbow has its original black structure, a small piece of wood right behind the formerly faulty trigger to help it fire once more. You had taken off the head in previous months, not sure what to do with it until recently, picking up the separate piece and turning it around in your hands. The idea of multi function flooded your head, staring down at the arched part and back at the structure as you already busied yourself with mending and bending metal.

You had to re-string and re-wire a few sections, standing up for a test run every so often as you worked vigorously. You were proud of yourself for being able to fix the trigger itself, however this was an even greater fix. You rose to your feet and slid the weapons end over your shoulder, aimming before firing. The string cracked forward as the arrow shot out, and you pulled it back into it’s wooden place, firing one more arrow.

You smiled softly to yourself for being able to fix it, and moved to once more pop the bows head off, only this time setting the structure down and holding it put in front of you, pulling the string back with your fingers and releasing, arrow flying to join the others. “Damn I outdo myself everyday” You pumped a fist in the air as you moved to yank the three arrows from out of the wall.

The head snapped easily back into place, along with the string. You added the dozen wooden sticks you had carved into various sized arrows into the crossbows original holder, staring down at weapon for any overlooked mistakes or potential last minute details. The matchbox briefly crossed your mind.

“Where’s Daryl?” You squinted your eyes and shielded them from the sun, glancing up at Aaron. “Said he was going out. Didn’t wanna push” The man shrugged and you nodded, thanking him for his help before going back to your house to put your gear on.

As you walked out the gates, newly modified crossbow slung around your shoulder, you couldn’t help but wink at your friends prying eyes.

Part of you wasn’t even sure where Daryl would be if not hunting out the woods, but then you realized he wouldn’t go anywhere but the woods.

Your feet led you back to your old campsite, where your heart soared as you spotted faint but very much footprints, following them with your knife drawn closely by your side. The prints were leading you to the lake, and at first you thought maybe you followed old prints, however held your breath when you finally spotted Daryl sitting on the edge of the water. You approached carefully, trying your best to keep the weapon concealed.

“Quit followin’ me” Daryl mumbled when you were standing behind him. You sat next to him, crossbow behind the two of you as you stared out into the water, then at Daryl. He simply looked at ground while digging a small hole with a rock, choosing to remain silent in your presence. It comforted him a little, and he spared a quick glance at you, head snapping upwards. “You- Did you-“ You placed the bow into his lap, fighting your smile as he carefully picked it up and analyzed it. “Why… How’d ya fix it?” He whispered, fingers caressing the wooden chunks and the bow head itself. “I’m sorry it took so long” You mumbled but Daryl shook his head. “Who cares? Ya still fixed it ‘nd then some!” His eyes sparkled as he was already positioning it onto his shoulder, aimming at a nearby tree and whooping at the sound of the string cracking and the arrow flying.

When he noticed the string out of it’s place however, he frowned. “It’s broke” You chuckled, taking the weapon from him and angling it so he could watch you. “It’s got lots of new feats. Bow and arrow good sir?” You popped off the head and handed it him, laughing at his stunned look. Daryl held the arch out in front of him and pulled the string back, sending an arrow next to the previous one. He whipped his head back around, eyes catching your fingers as they fiddled with a red stripe in the middle of the structure, right where the arrow goes. “I haven’t tested this myself” You whispered as you showed Daryl how to properly snap the head back on before rising to your feet.

“Ain’t a self-destruct is it?” Daryl stretched as he stood next to you, moving to yank the few strays out the tree. You shook your head, sliding one of your wooden arrows out the holder and bringing it to the stripe, quickly dragging it across and sliding it into position, flames licking the arrows head. Daryl whistled as it fired into a tree, fire still burning until it wasn’t. “Damn girl. I ain’t ever lettin’ ya get away” Daryl stepped into your space, one hand grabbing your waist and the other relieving you of the heavy weapon, slinging it over his shoulder. “Nice strap” He snorted, glancing down at the magneta shoulder strap replacing his black one. You softly kissed his lips, smiling as your hands rested against his chest. “How else will I identify you, huntermam?” His hands on your waist pulled you closer, thumbs rubbing circles into the skin. Daryl looked and felt much more like himself, an easy smile resting on his lips, his crossbow once again slung over his shoulder, and his woman warm under the touch of his hands.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

its 3 am and im fucking high as fuck guys live laugh love actually who’s down for a stoner reader fic thats sounds so fire

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

[cer-rata]

Vandal Savage Makes an "Uh-oh"

Vandal: …You know, allowing you to speak before we torture you is a courtesy, one that I have no problem rescinding. 

Damian, sitting in a cell, thinking very hard: …Damn, Savage, I don’t know if I can save you from this one. This may very well be the end of your immortality.

Vandal: What are you talking about? You think I fear your mother? Your father? Even if he wasn’t a gnat in my grand design, he would never be willing to do what needs to be--

Damian: Yeah no, who even IS afraid of Batman at this point? And you know, I’ll give it to you, you’re a big fish.

Damian: ...Which is actually the problem here, because that means they’re all going to feel the need to come at the same time.

Vandal: The Justice League? I have enough fail-safes--

Damian: Nooo no no, they’ll be here before the League would ever, and I’m certain you didn’t prepare for most of them, half haven’t even gone public yet.

Vandal: ...You’re wasting my time, I see that I have to--

Damian: Then let me just break it down real fast, because you need to know this.

Damian: Me? Not going to kill you, I don’t do that anymore.

Damian: Superman? He--no, not that one, the one that should be at the club--I can almost feel his anger from here. It’s flattering, really...so he’ll want to, but won’t.

Damian: Nobody? Will want to, but won’t…unless you do something really stupid, but I don’t think you’re the type.

Damian: Abuse? Would never, but will want to break every bone in your body. He will succeed. 

Damian: Robin? Free space, the 'Good Egg,' she’ll just want to take you to jail. 

Damian: …But that’s when the problems start.

Vandal: …What problems?

Damian: If Beacon decides she wants to kill you she’ll do it in a way we can’t prevent or prove. It’ll be a stroke or a brain hemorrhage, maybe even literal ego death--

Damian: And let’s face it, you’re old as shit and everyone hates you, so do you really think they’ll  bother to investigate any of that? 

Damian: Apostate won’t kill you, but only because he will have something much nastier in mind. Truly a fate worse than death, disturbing as hell, kid has issues. If you have a choice, I recommend picking the ‘ego death’ instead.

Damian: Star Sapphire...well you broke my arm so he's definitely going to try to kill you, your best bet is that ‘Bi-Panic Superman’ stops him in time.

Vandal, flinching at a distant explosion: What the--

Damian: Shit! You distracted me, I didn’t come up with a way out for you.

Damian:

Damian: Oh no!

Damian:

Damian: Anyway, if 'Flashlight' makes a mess, he’s filling out the report, I’m not covering for him again, he knows how much it upsets me when he loses his temper and disintegrates people.

Vandal, angrily pressing buttons on his device: Why aren’t my men responding--

Damian, wincing at another, closer explosion: …Heeey, can you do me a favor and just...stand a little farther away, so I’m out of the splash zone?

Vandal: What!?

Damian, aggressively gesturing to his fit with his good arm: Look at me! When you start wearing white, it is very important to keep blood from getting all over--

[sicknessbysalem]

i will never not love making new characters.

black cat lesbian x golden retriever gay friendship my beloved.

anyway, you know the drill!

if you have any REQUESTS (please), Comments, or Concerns: MY ASK BOX IS OPEN!!

tw for emeto, sickness, friends bullying each other (including but not limited to gay jokes), objectively inappropriate jokes

Saylor Thompson leaned against the closed door of the stall farthest from the door on the first floor of one of the men’s dormitories on the quiet art school campus. She brushed violently bangs behind her ear, scrolling through her phone as she tapped her foot on the floor.

It was almost silent. There was nobody else in here. Nobody except for her and Julian, on the other side of the door. Every so often, Saylor heard a dry heave or a sick belch, something unproductive. It had been like this for almost an hour. Thankfully it was Saturday. The dorms were open until later that evening. But, surprisingly, activity was low on campus.

"Let’s see what our favorite news source has to say today, yeah?" she asked, chuckling.

“Sure,” she heard Julian say through nauseous panting.

She took her lollipop out of her mouth. Sure it wasn’t exactly sanitary to have such a thing, but she didn’t really give a fuck.

She hummed softly, stopping words in her mouth as Julian heaved again. She heard a slight splatter into the bowl.

“Anything interesting?” Saylor asked.

“Spit,” Julian mumbled, “Again.”

“Are you sure you have to throw up? I mean you’ve-“ Saylor started.

Julian retched, this time she could hear something more substantial splash into the toilet.

“Huh, guess you did,” She shrugged, going back to her phone to find the latest unhinged fashion commentary she could find. Something to distract him.

This was how their relationship worked. If Julian was sick, she read him shitty fashion articles. If she was sick, he would read her random fun facts he could find or read true crime articles to her. It worked.

“Here, listen to this,” She rolled her eyes, tone dripping with sarcasm, "this so called 'expert' thinks that neon colors are going to be the next big thing in professional attire. Can you imagine walking into a boardroom looking like a human highlighter?" She paused, listening for any response from the stall behind her.

“Depends on the complexion and hair color of the person,” Julian answered, “Some people look best in neon.”

Saylor snorted. "Yeah, right. Because nothing screams 'take me seriously' like blinding everyone with your neon ensemble."

Julian managed a weak chuckle. "Just trying to see the bright side...literally. Besides, you’re like the queen of self expression. Shouldn’t neon colors be enticin-“

Saylor sighed softly as his words were cut off by another, slightly weaker retch.

When that stopped, she continued, "Okay, here's another gem. 'This season, oversized hats are making a comeback. Perfect for those who want to block out the haters or just the sun.' Seriously? Who writes this stuff?"

Julian's laughter was interrupted by another wave of nausea. Saylor heard him moan shakily, heard him move a bit closer to the toilet. Saylor's eyes flicked to the stall door, her fingers tightening around her phone. She felt useless standing out here, but barging in wouldn't help either. This was the best she could do.

Just then, the bathroom door creaked open, and an older student, clearly annoyed, stepped in. His eyes narrowed when he saw Saylor. "What are you doing in here?" he demanded.

“Reading the news, hanging out,” Saylor shrugged, not looking at the other student. “Helping a friend.”

“This is a men’s restroom,” The guy said, “You don’t qualify.”

Saylor looked up from her phone then, narrowing her eyes and making a point to look the other student up and down, lingering on his crotch area with a snort.

“Yeah, I don’t think you qualify either,” Saylor scoffed, “My girlfriend’s strap is more packed than what you have to offer. And she is far more attractive. So, trust me, nothing in here is going to bother me. And if it bothers you that I’m here for my friend, well, that's your problem. I’m not here for you."

“Well what if I have to-“

“There’s another bathroom down the hall,” Saylor said, “Or you could man up and take a piss, trust me, I’m not looking. Nothing to look at anyway.”

The guy's face turned a deep shade of red, and he opened his mouth as if to argue, but thought better of it and stormed out.

Julian's weak laughter followed his exit. "You always know how to make an impression, Saylor."

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered, feeling a strange mix of pride and discomfort. She was used to pushing people away, but with Julian, it was different. "Just focus on getting better, okay? I don't need you keeling over on me."

"Working on it," Julian mumbled, his voice barely audible. Saylor could hear the strain in his words, the underlying pain that made her chest tighten uncomfortably.

“How’s your stomach holding up?” Saylor asked, locking her phone and tucking it in the pocket of her purple leather jeans.

“Not great,” Julian said, she heard him spit, a small whine escaping him just barely loud enough for her to hear.

Saylor leaned her head against the stall door, taking a deep breath. She knew Julian was tough, but hearing him in pain was tearing at her. She wasn't the nurturing type, but Julian had a way of making her want to be better, even if it was just for him.

“Hey, let me in,” she said, trying to sound casual.

There was a moment of hesitation before she heard the soft click of the lock. Saylor pushed the door open and slipped inside, closing it behind her.

Julian was slumped on the floor, his usually bright eyes dulled with pain and exhaustion.

“You remember when I came into your dorm room after going to that stupid frat party?” Saylor asked, “And I was so drunk I threw up in the sink in your room?”

“Very much, yes,” Julian said. “Kev was pissed. Then he decided it was fine because he said you were hot puking your guts out and telling him off.”

“He was weird,” Saylor said.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Julian said, “But what does you being drunk have to do with-“

“Stand up,” Saylor said, snapping her fingers and gesturing with her hand to get him to stand.

Julian nodded weakly, and with some effort, Saylor managed to get him on his feet. She positioned him over the toilet, keeping a firm grip on his waist. His body trembled, and she could feel the tension in his muscles.

“Okay, just let it out,” she murmured, pushing his hair out of his face. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Say, I don’t think that’ll help,” Julian told her, “I’ve been in here for-“

“Sitting on the floor,” Saylor said, “Just trust me.”

Julian leaned over the toilet, and Saylor applied gentle pressure to his stomach, hoping it would help speed up the process. It didn’t take long for him to start retching again, his body convulsing with each wave of nausea.

He heaved, Saylor’s touch making his stomach give in. A thick wave of vomit rushed out of him, splashing into the toilet.

“That's it, just let it out,” Saylor said, her voice softer than usual. “You're doing great.”

Julian groaned, the sound turning into a guttural retch as another round of vomit hit the toilet.

Saylor held him steady, her grip firm but comforting. She continued to talk to him, her voice a mix of sarcastic banter and genuine concern.

“You know, you could have just skipped the cafeteria food. It’s not like they serve gourmet meals here,” she said, trying to distract him.

Julian managed a weak laugh between bouts of vomiting. “Thanks...for the advice.”

“Anytime,” Saylor replied, brushing a few stray hairs from his forehead. “You know, next time you decide to get sick, maybe give me a heads-up. I could bring better reading material.”

Julian leaned heavily against her, his breathing ragged. “I’ll...keep that in mind.”

“Good,” Saylor said, tightening her grip around his waist. “Now, let's get this over with. The sooner you're done, the sooner we can get you back to bed.”

She moved, standing behind him, arms wrapped around his waist as she squeezed him tight. The tighter she squeezed, the more vomit rushed out of Julian’s stomach.

Julian continued to heave, each round of vomiting more forceful than the last. Saylor kept him upright, her presence a steady anchor. She could feel his exhaustion, the way his body sagged against her, but she didn't let go.

“Almost there, Jules,” she said softly. “Just a little more.”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Julian's retching subsided. He leaned heavily against Saylor, his breathing slow and labored. She held him for a moment longer, making sure he was steady before gently easing him back down to sit on the floor.

“There you go,” she said, wiping his face with a damp paper towel. “Feeling any better?”

Julian nodded weakly. “Yeah...a little.”

“Good,” Saylor said, offering him a small smile. “Because I’m not doing this again. You owe me, big time.”

Julian smiled faintly, his eyes closing as he leaned his head against the cool tile wall. “I know. Thanks, Saylor.”

“Anytime, idiot,” she replied, her voice softening. “Now, let's get you back to your room. You need to rest.”

She supported his weight as they slowly made their way out of the bathroom. Saylor's heart ached seeing Julian so vulnerable, it wasn’t him, it wasn’t normal.

Saylor would never admit it, but it made her worried.

-

Julian's dorm room was a small but cozy space, filled with soft hues and warm blankets and decorated with his various artworks and fashion sketches pinned on the walls. He had some of the cutest lights above his bed, stars they looked like.

“God,” Saylor said, “Your room looks every bit as gay as you are.”

Julian chuckled softly. “You say that like your room doesn’t look like you’re ready to smash the next poor soul of a pretty girl with big tits that ends up being your roommate.”

The faint hum of a lo-fi playlist played softly in the background, providing a calm atmosphere despite the circumstances.

Julian laid down, flopping on his bed, a cold sweat glistening on his forehead. His usually bright eyes were dull and heavy with discomfort.

Saylor rolled her eyes and grabbed one of Julian’s wash cloths, running it under the cool water of sink in the corner of the room, just big enough to brush your teeth and get ready in the morning.

She walked over and wiped off his face, “You are pathetic. Looking all sick and disgusting.”

“You need to fix your hair, it’s messy and you look like a rejected one night stand,” Julian teased her back.

That was their relationship. Bullying each other with a kind smile. That was how they showed affection.

Saylor unfolded the wash cloth and covered Julian’s face with it.

Saylor, sitting cross-legged at the foot of his bed, glanced over at him with a mixture of concern and affection. She reached for the water bottle on the nightstand and got up to hand it to him.

“Here, pretty boy, drink some more water,” Saylor said. “You need to stay hydrated."

Julian took the bottle with a weak smile, his hands trembling slightly as he took a small sip. "Thanks, Saylor. I don't know what's wrong with me today."

"You probably ate something bad, or you got some frat house flu, I know you love making your rounds there,” Saylor said, trying to keep the mood light.

She picked up one of his fashion sketches from the floor and examined it. "Hey, this one's pretty cool. When are you going to make me a custom jacket, huh?"

Julian chuckled weakly. "Soon, I promise. As soon as I can hold a needle without feeling like I'm going to pass out."

Saylor grinned and ruffled his hair. "Good. You better keep that promise, or I'll never let you live it down."

“Well if I die first, then what?” Julian asked.

“I’ll bring you back, I’m not going through this shit show alone,” Saylor scoffed.

“Any fun and interesting gossip with the girls?” Julian asked her.

Saylor shrugged, sitting on the windowsill, before she started recounting the latest campus gossip. "So, I overheard some real juicy drama in the art building today, before your homie Jackson told me you were spilling chunks in the bathroom and I should probably come terrorize you for him since he’d throw up if he heard you throw up.”

“Well then you could just take care of both of us,” Julian said, “Your bedside manner is impeccable.”

Saylor laughed, “Anyway, you know that pretentious guy, Ethan, from my painting class? Well, turns out he got caught making out with one of the janitors. Can you believe it? All that holier-than-thou attitude, and he's sneaking around like a lovesick teenager."

Julian managed a faint laugh, though it was clear he was still feeling miserable. "Ethan? Really? That's... unexpected."

"Right?" Saylor said, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "And get this—when he got caught, he tried to say they were just 'discussing art.' Yeah, sure, Ethan. Because everyone discusses art with their tongues down each other's throats."

Julian shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips despite his discomfort. "You're terrible, Saylor."

She shrugged nonchalantly. "Hey, I'm just telling it like it is. Anyway, enough about him. How are you feeling now? Any better?"

Julian sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. "Not really. My stomach still feels like it's doing somersaults."

Saylor's expression softened, and she reached out to gently squeeze his hand. "Hang in there, okay? I don’t want to be the bitch friend of the guy who let some frat flu win."

“Never, sweetheart,” Julian said, “You’re just a bitch.”

“Being a bitch is more fun,” Saylor shrugged.

Just then, Julian's face contorted with a sudden wave of nausea. He sat up quickly, clutching his stomach. "Saylor, I think I need to—"

Without another word, Saylor sprang into action, grabbing the small trash bin from beside the desk and holding it out for him just in time. Julian retched, his body trembling with the effort. Saylor stayed by his side, one hand on his back, offering a steadying presence.

"It's okay, Jules," she murmured softly, rubbing his back in soothing circles. "Just let it out. I'm here."

After a few agonizing moments, Julian finally stopped, breathing heavily. He leaned back, exhausted and pale. Saylor handed him a tissue to wipe his mouth and offered him another sip of water.

"Thanks," Julian whispered, his voice hoarse. "I'm sorry you have to see this."

Saylor shook her head firmly. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm your best friend. I'd rather be here with you than anywhere else."

She settled back down, resuming her casual chatter to distract him once more. "So, back to Ethan... Can you imagine the look on Professor Green's face when she found out? Priceless. Absolutely priceless."

As she continued to weave tales of campus gossip and amusing anecdotes, Julian couldn't help but feel a little better, knowing that no matter how sick he felt, Saylor would always be there to make his life… far more interesting.

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 38 part one

(Masterpost) (Pinboard)  (whole thing on AO3)  

Warning! Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!  

OK But Why?

This tale-within-a-tale is excruciating, yeah? So let's start off by considering why it even exists. Yi City feels like, if not a fully separate story, a pretty complete arc that can play as its own little movie. And it's incredibly sad, in every direction. While it may have begun life, in its originally-written form, as a different story exploring some of the same themes, MXTX placed it in the novel deliberately, and the producers of CQL included it deliberately. Why? Other than the, you know, catharsis of a well-wrought tragedy?

I think the answer is that it tells a set of parallel stories, alternate versions of the stories our main characters inhabit, with different outcomes driven by the character's choices. There's an obvious parallel between Lan Wangji's grief and Song Lan's, and another clear one between Wei Wuxian's core donation and Xiao Xingchen's eyeball donation. 

And there's an important comparison to be made between Xue Yang and Wei Wuxian, two demonic cultivators. They share some formative experiences, but have followed radically different paths, shaped, at a key moment, by another person's choice. 

Overall, the Yi City story illustrates how choices made in a moment affect not just an individual life, but ripple outward into other lives. So be prepared for me to point out parallels even more than usual, as we go through these episodes.

Empathy

We start off learning about Empathy and how it’s sooper dangerous, which means of course Wei Wuxian is totally down for it and probably invented it.  He gathers the kids around and assigns Jin Ling to be the person in charge of supervising and deciding when to pull him out of the matrix link. 

Jin Ling is surprised and reluctant so teacher’s pet Sizhui jumps forward and volunteers. 

Wei Wuxian asks Jin Ling for his Jiang clarity bell, which is on a tassel that used to be Jiang Yanli’s. 

(more behind the cut!)

Once the bell/tassel is out of Jin Ling’s hand, however, he changes his mind and snatches it, and the responsibility, back. 

It seems like Sizhui might recognize this tassel? 

It’s like the one Jiang Yanli gave Wei Wuxian when they met up before her wedding, which means Wei Wuxian would have had it with him during their year in the burial mounds. 

Jingyi disapproves of Jin Ling’s mind-changing, which is a little unfair since JL didn’t actually say “no” prior to Sizhui putting in his oar. (Sizhui is entirely loveable, but he is also a pushy brown-noser just like Lan Wangji was at his age. He just does it so sweetly that nobody minds.)

Sizhui, also like his Lan dad, has made it his life’s mission to manage a loudmouth hothead’s temper for him. 

Heading into empathy with A-Qing, we get flashes of bits of the story that we're about to see in depth. Then we jump to "ten years ago" which, given the way this series does math, probably means seven years ago.

Side note: A-Qing has managed to keep her hair looking pretty cute despite being 90% dead. 

Splish Splash

This particular section of the Wuxia River of Sadness is reserved for people who are contemplating the total mess they have made of their lives (gifset here), but A-Qing didn't get that memo, so she's having a nice time splashing joyfully without a care in the world.

A-Qing isn't about drama or being depressed, even when things are pretty difficult. She has found a big rock to sit on and is having a nice day hanging out on it.  

Then she goes skipping along singing "la la la la" (which is the same sound in Chinese as we make in English when we're singing and don't know the words, incidentally). Ok, show, we get it, she's happy and carefree. I sure hope she doesn't get involved in any weird relationships.

Grifting

She sees a couple of women walking on the path and she starts pretending to be blind. In the book, this pretense was facilitated by her having completely white eyes, but in the show she has normal brown eyes, until she actually is blinded by Xue Yang. So her entire pretense of being blind is to unfocus her eyes a bit and wave her hands around...

...with frequent intervals where she thinks no-one is watching her, and she acts 100% like she can see. Somehow she is almost never busted for this. 

The ladies give her a steamed bun and whisper loudly to each other about how pitiful she is. 

Then she heads into town for a little grifting, picking a wealthy douchebag as a mark. She bumps into him and steals his money bag, which he doesn't notice because he's too busy creeping on her. 

She's annoyed and disappointed that he doesn't have a lot of money.

Hey Pretty, Don’t You Want To Take a Ride With Me

Next she bumps into (and robs) Xiao Xingchen, who is actually blind, so he doesn’t notice her noticing how extremely pretty he is. 

He does notice that she has robbed him, however. 

Did you know if you have your eyes removed or even just damaged so you can't see any more, your eye sockets and/or tear ducts will bleed pretty much forever? Yeah, me neither. 

Xiao Xingchen immediately takes charge of A-Qing, telling her to walk more slowly and then telling her - kindly - to return his money purse. Before she can answer him, the rich douchebag comes back to yell at her and try to hit her. Xiao Xingchen stops him and smooths over the situation, and then lectures Ah Qing about stealing and how it's bad. But he tells her to keep his money, so - mixed messages, bro. 

She calls him gege and says that since he's blind and she's blind, she's going to follow him forever. He’s like, okey dokey, and they walk off together. Is she really the first person (since Song Lan) who’s had this idea about him? He is *very* pretty, after all.

It's unclear to me if she's calling him gege in the sense of “orphan girl who wants a family,” or in the sense of “mostly-grown-up woman who would like to Hit That.” Xiao Xingchen appears to take it as the former; he is too gay virtuous for the other option.

Two seconds after they decide to stay together, they encounter Xue Yang lying injured by the side of the road. A-Qing pretends she didn’t see him, and almost successfully wangles a piggyback ride out of Xiao Xingchen. 

But then he hears Xue Yang and immediately decides to rescue him, like the do-gooder Xue Yang despises him for being.

Xue Yang gets the romance-tropey piggyback ride that A-Qing was hoping for. Girl, the time to stop trying to seduce your gay male friend is 5 minutes before you started, ok?  

So...why was Xue Yang lying by the side of the road with a stab wound? Who gave it to him? If Jin Guangyao was sick of him, he would have stabbed him 100% fatally, and he wouldn't have let him hang on to Tiger Seal 2.0. And presumably Xue Yang wouldn’t think of him as a friend any more. It’s a mystery.

The new throuple decide to go to the creepiest abandoned walled city that has ever existed, and head past all the regular houses to set up camp in the morgue, for some reason. Not even inside one of the buildings; just out in the courtyard with a bunch of possibly-occupied coffins. Xiao Xingchen is so fucking weird. 

Each Unhappy Family is Unhappy in its Own Way

Xiao Xingchen gets to work patching Xue Yang up, and Xue Yang wakes up and recognizes him. A-Qing explains that they are blind and tells him not to be rude about it.

Xue Yang takes a second to process the situation, and then decided he’s going to hide his identity and make nice with Xiao Xingchen. Proving that found family can also have hideous toxic dynamics.

Xue Yang is very careful to keep XXC from touching his hand, since that would give away his identity. He has a...prosthetic finger? He wears a black glove and keeps his pinky finger straight so we know it's a replacement, or injured, or something. 

I think this is a concession to Wang Haoxuan having ten functional fingers and the show having a limited CGI budget. In a real sword-based society, missing a finger is probably not particularly uncommon, and he would probably just rock the nine-fingered look without having a special glove.

At this point, the complex interactions of the trio get rolling. Xiao Xingchen is honestly kind, Xue Yang is fake-kind, A-Qing is fake-unaware with Xue Yang and is unable to make Xiao Xingchen understand the problem, and Xiao Xingchen is genuinely unaware of everything. 

We spend a fairly large amount of time with Xue Yang and Xiao Xingchen playing happy families. As part of his false persona, Xue Yang adopts a coy and whiny tone when talking to his pet white-clad cultivator, remarkably like another demonic cultivator we know.

I’m pretty sure Wei Wuxian has never managed to cop a feel while his sweetie climbs up a ladder, however. 

Then again, neither Lan Wangji nor Wei Wuxian has ever needed a ladder to get onto a roof, so maybe it’s just a lack of opportunity. 

This relationship, on the surface, is cute and sweet, which just makes the reality of it more disturbing. It’s super uncomfortable to watch, but there’s more than manipulation happening in these interactions. As Xue Yang flits around doing domestic tasks like patching the roof of the crappy outdoor shelter that they absolutely do not need to be using, he tells Xiao Xingchen various true things about his early life, and we begin to see what shaped him. 

Xue Yang (like OP) is obsessed with candy. In Xue Yang’s case, he was a hungry street kid who loved candy but couldn’t usually have it because of poverty. We learn that he has skills in patching up inadequate housing because he did it growing up. 

And we learn that he was beaten a lot. 

So he and Wei Wuxian have these things in common - except now Wei Wuxian gets his sugar from alcohol, not from candy. And Wei Wuxian’s handyman skills are used to make a home for his former enemies in the burial grounds, while Xue Yang’s are used - also in a cemetery, of sorts - to manipulate and trap his enemy. 

I Want Candy

In classic predator form, Xue Yang uses candy to lure A-Qing into coming within stabbing range, because he thinks she’s faking her blindness and wants to test her.  

I find him super attractive right here in spite of his evilness. I’m pretty sure it’s because he’s offering candy. (OP goes and gets a jolly rancher out of her purse). 

After calling her over, he draws his sword with a super-loud "sshshk" noise that she inexplicably doesn't notice, and she bravely walks up to, and nearly on to, the point of the sword. 

This shocks him and convinces him that she's really blind. He sits her down with apparently sincere gentleness, and gives her candy, while quizzing her about her hot gege.

A-Qing tries to warn Xiao Xingchen about Xue Yang being a bad guy, pointing out that he's a cultivator and won't tell them his name. (She can’t say “also he tried to stab me” because she’d have to come clean about being able to see.) Xiao Xingchen, because he is a condescending prick--albeit a very sweet one--pats her on the fucking head and laughs off her extremely useful warning. 

Xiao Xingchen came out into the wider world with a set of ideals that he lives by, apparently without examining them. He’s humble, kind, frugal, and wants to eradicate evil. He also believes that the majority of people are good like him, and that detecting evil is simple--as simple as following his sword toward it. He doesn’t allow A-Qing, who is experienced in the wider world, to teach him anything, preferring to keep his ideals untarnished.

Contrast this with Lan Wangji, who also starts his journey into the wider world with a set of ideals (codified as rules), but does not make the mistake of assuming that other people shares his beliefs. Once he’s away from the Cloud Recesses, he follows Wei Wuxian’s lead when dealing with new people, rather than insisting on doing things the way he did back home. In general, he is open to having his beliefs challenged, even when it makes him upset or uncomfortable. As a result, he grows into a righteous man, not a naïve one, and he’s fully capable of identifying enemies even when they appear to be friends.

Bonus: 

In this brief long-distance shot we learn that A-Qing sleeps in a coffin, which is some next level goth girl shit. 

Soundtrack: 1. Hey Pretty by Poe 2. I Want Candy by Bow Wow Wow 3. Cheap Thrills by Sia

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

In The Wet [a Frankie x reader fic]

Read on Ao3

My Frankie Morales masterlist

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Ship: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x you (cishet f!reader)

Warnings: Reader has boobs and pussy but no other descriptors, reader has had problems finding a fitting swimsuit but body is not described in terms of size, Frankie has body issues, Public Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, sneaky sex in the water on a public beach.

Summary: You and Frankie are at the beach with the Millers, and the brothers' chiseled bodies make Frankie feel self-conscious. However, you know how to make him feel better…

Words: 2,837

The delighted laughter of children mixes with r 'n b from a portable speaker and the lapping of waves, but you're already filtering it out after about an hour on the beach. The sunlight is filtered underneath the beach umbrella, and you blink your eyes open when Frankie shifts next to you. You turn your head to look at him, belly down on the blanket next to you, reading a magazine. You're on your back in your new two-piece swimsuit, expensive as fuck but the first one you ever bought that actually fits your body as it should. Lord knows you've been putting up with cheap bikinis in your day, but now you finally splurged on yourself and went to a lingerie store that catered to all bodies, whether they be thin or thick. The swimsuit you picked out is simple yet elegant, and it fits - something that's so very incredible to you. It's been years since you last showed yourself on a public beach in the middle of the day, but now you're comfortable enough to do so. And you've already noticed that nobody even looks at you twice because everybody is busy having a good time.

Nobody except Frankie.

He noticed the movement next to him and is now smiling at you.

"You snored."

"I nodded off," you acknowledge sleepily, smiling back as you stretch languidly. "It's nice and warm."

"You can't fall asleep if there's any kind of noise outside the bedroom, but put you in the middle of a busy beach..."

You shove him playfully before sitting up and pulling your knees up. The water glitters invitingly.

"Wanna go swimming?" you ask, looking down at your boyfriend in his shorts and t-shirt. He turns around heaves himself up to a sitting position as well.

"Nah, the water's too cold."

"You haven't even tried it!"

He shakes his head and pulls his cap down slightly. "Not one for swimming. You go ahead."

"Yo, love birds!"

Benny comes jogging through the sand to your spot, Will in tow. Both Miller brothers are wearing only shorts, with sweat glistening on their tan, sculpted upper bodies. They've been playing volleyball with some bucks ten years their juniors, but you know the Millers well enough to know that they probably kicked the younger men's asses - and they looked good doing it, too. They keep in shape, and their lean yet muscled upper bodies are tanned, with abs that you could grate cheese on.

"Splishy-splashy," Benny continues. "Time to put the Catfish back in the ocean."

"I'm good," Frankie shakes his head, giving you an encouraging push instead. "She was just going."

"She wants you to come too," you point out, but get up. "But if you don't want to, you can guard our stuff?"

"Sure will. Enjoy."

You throw him a kiss before following Benny and Will to the water. It's refreshingly cool, and while the brothers race each other to dive, you wade in slowly, enjoying the way your legs and thighs and finally stomach get steeped in the cool water. Some kids splashing water on each other get some on you as well, so you lean forward and glide into the next wave, inhaling sharply at the initial cold but quickly finding the temperate wonderful. You swim after the Millers who are waiting for you a bit out, away from the kids but still within reach of the sandy bottom.

You swim around with Will and Benny, dive to the bottom, Benny carries you on his shoulders and throws you into the water. After a while, however, you glance in the direction of the beach, seeing Frankie under the beach umbrella. He's too far away for you to discern his face, and he's wearing his hat anyway.

You tell the guys that you're going to have a rest, then leave the water. As you approach Frankie, he stands up, ready with your towel that he wraps around you when you reach him.

"You want to make a burrito out of me?" you smile as he pulls you snug against him. He takes his hat off so that he can nuzzle your nose with his, before kissing the tip.

"My favorite kind of burrito," he murmurs. "Was the water nice?"

"It was wonderful, you should come."

"You need more sunscreen first."

He sits you down, the takes his seat behind you. Slowly and meticulously, he works sunscreen into your shoulders and back, and you sit with a silly little smile on your face, eyes closing as you enjoy the treatment. When his hands move further down and start to sneak inside the waistband of your bikini briefs, you elbow him gently.

"Watch it..."

"You look so good in this bikini, but you look even better without..." he whispers into your ear, and your cheeks flush while the rest of your body breaks out in goosebumps. He kisses your neck and shoulder, hands stroking around the curve of your thighs, fingers reach the apex teasingly.

"Frankie!" you admonish him in a muffled voice. "Not here."

"I know." He nuzzles the back of your head before wrapping his arms around you. "Had to try, though."

You chuckle and lean back against him, safe between thighs, your hands on his kneecaps, thumbs rubbing little circles on the hairy skin. You sit there quietly, enjoying his embrace, the warmth, the gentle breeze from the sea, the little sphere of love you've made for yourselves on this public beach.

Eventually, however, you want to go back into the water.

"Come on, Frankie," you coax him. "Come and swim with me."

He tightens momentarily behind you, and you turn your head to look at him quizzically.

"Frankie?"

"You go with the guys," he tells you, avoiding your gaze. "I'm fine here."

"What's the matter?" you ask, shifting a little so that you can take his hat off and prevent him from hiding himself under the bill. His warm, brown eyes flicker over your face.

"Nothing, I just don't feel like it."

You frown as you try to understand his unwillingness to go in the water. You've seen him swim before, so you know he can, but -

Oh. Oh no.

"Is it because of Will and Benny?" you ask, fighting to keep your voice neutral. "Frankie, they are my friends, they are allowed to touch me, even when I'm only wearing a swimsuit."

"It's not that," he cuts you off, looking aghast. "I don't care about that."

"Then what is it?"

A kid runs past on their way to the water, spraying sand over your leg. You throw a glare after the kid before turning your attention back to Frankie. He sighs, knowing he can't escape.

"They look better than I do," he mutters. You blink.

"Come again?"

"Look at them." Frankie nods towards the water, and you follow his gaze to the Miller brothers, who have swum out to the pontoon and are diving into the water from it, much to the admiration of a giggling group of 20-somethings. Benny even does a flip, and even if you can't see him clearly at this distance, you know just how the muscles of his body are flexing for that trick.

"What about them?" you want to know. Frankie sighs in exasperation.

"They have the bodies of Greek gods while I am a sack of potatoes with eyes on it."

You want to laugh at the comparison, but your man looks so gloomy you hold it in.

"Jesus, Frankie," you shake your head. "Is that why you're sitting here with your t-shirt on?"

He grunts, and you put a hand on his waist.

"Will you let me take it off?" you ask gently, quietly. He hesitates for a moment, but then his eyes meet yours, and he nods. You pull the t-shirt up and off him, revealing his soft, pudgy belly and sagging chest.

"Mmm," you nod in approval. "Baby, you're perfect."

"You're just saying that."

"Are you calling me a liar?" you dare him with a grin, and a bashful smile breaks out on his face as well before disappearing just as quickly.

"I used to be fitter when I met you," he still apologizes. "I'm just so lazy, I've let myself go."

"Oh, my sweet boy..." You wrap your arms around his waist, that waist that he seems to think is too round, too wide, too wrong, when it's the most perfect waist in the universe. "Frankie, I love that you're home with me on the couch instead of lifting weights at the gym every night."

He's not convinced; you can feel the tension in him. All the times he's comforted you when you've felt bad about your body, sworn that he loves you just as you are, are coming back to you. Damn, but it's hard to say the right thing.

"Frankie," you try again, "I need me a present, soft man who loves my shitty cooking and doesn't care if either one of us gains a pound or two. I need someone who's there for me and doesn't make me or himself feel bad for eating something that's good. You are that man, and I love you just as you are."

Now he's starting to get it. His puppy dog eyes shyly seek out yours. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Even if I get even fatter?"

"You're not fat, baby, you're just thick and broad," you tell him, fingers sinking into the soft flesh at his side. "And I happen to like it."

"But if I got fat?"

"I wouldn't stop loving you. Gaining weight doesn't equal losing worth, or that you're less loveable."

He seems happy with that, and you press a kiss to his lips before getting up.

"Ready for a swim?" you ask, and his gaze flickers to the water, then back to your face.

"Okay."

You take him by the hand and walk down to the water with him. The coolness of the waves is welcome as both of you swim away from the kids and everybody else, and in the opposite direction of the pontoon, where the Millers are still showing off for the girls. Neither one of you has any interest in joining them: instead, you play your own little game where you try to swim away from Frankie, whose long arms and big hands give him an advantage. He catches up with you immediately and wraps his arms around you. In the water, you're weightless, so he can lift you and hold you up with nothing but his hands on your ass cheeks.

You put your arms around his neck to keep steady, and grin when he honks your ass.

"You just couldn't wait to do that, could you?" you tease him, and he winks.

"Been wanting to do it since you took your clothes off."

His eyes drop to your tits that look amazing in your comfortable bikini top. "Those look really nice, too."

"No visible groping," you warn him, and he tilts his head.

"But they're so perfectly grabbable..."

"When we're home."

"Fine." He pouts a little, then looks mischievously at you. You raise a brow, grinning.

"What?"

"I'm incredibly hard right now."

"That's unfortunate."

"It is."

"Lemme feel." You move your legs, one of them brushing up against the outline of his hard dick in his swimming trunks. "Yup, you sure are. That's quite impressive, in this cool water?"

"Honey," Frankie leans his forehead to yours, eyes crinkling as he smiles. "I could be naked in Antarctica and have the biggest hard-on from only thinking of you."

You throw your head back as you laugh, and Frankie renews his grip on your ass. Your pussy clenches when his fingers get awfully close, and you pull yourself closer to him, wrapping your legs around him. You have an idea, a very bold and shocking idea.

"You wanna keep it warm?" you ask in a low voice, pressing your thigh against his cock. "Wanna put it in and keep it warm?"

Frankie swallows noticeably. "Here? There's kids present."

"Just put it in, we're not gonna fuck or anything." You're quite keen on the idea now, your pussy growing heavy and hot at the thought. "We'll just stay like this, like we're talking, but your big, beautiful cock is going to be inside my wet, tight pussy..."

Frankie groans, his fingers digging into your ass cheeks as he presses you against him. He swirls around, the water splashing around the two of you. His back is turned towards the beach now.

"How can I resist?" he asks before brushing his lips over yours. He lets his mouth wander along your jawline, then down your neck, and you giggle, perhaps a little theatrically, while discreetly looking over his shoulder at the crowd. Nobody is paying you any mind. The Millers have proceeded to water games with the girls on the pontoon, taking turns throwing the shrieking girls into the water, then joining them, no doubt getting very close underwater. The water is not clear, nobody can see underneath it. Nobody will see anything else but a couple being cute with each other.

Quickly and as inconspicuously as possible, you take Frankie's cock out of his swimming trunks, push your bikini bottoms to the side, and help him slide inside. His jaw is tightly set in concentration when you settle against him, but there's a reckless sort of abandon in his eyes. You exhale audibly as you wrap your arms and legs around him.

"Okay?" you ask, and Frankie nods, changing his hold of your ass.

"You really are very warm..."

"All for you, my darling," you smile, your fingers playing with the wet curls at the nape of his neck. "This is exciting, huh?"

"Very," he nods as he starts to bob up and down while spinning lazily around. The movement is not much, not like when you're fucking, but it adds a little friction that makes you clench around him.

"Daaaamn..." he moans low, "that's nice and tight. I love your pussy, baby, it's always so good to me."

"And I love your cock," you reply in the same quiet manner, yet with intensity. "It feels so good to have it inside me, Frankie, I love having it inside me, it fills me up so perfectly."

He kisses your forehead as he pushes you hard against himself, making you choke on your next breath.

"Wish I could suck on your tits," he gasps, glancing down at your boobs pressing up against him, all wet and shining in the sun. "So perfect."

"These tits?" You push your upper arms against the sides of your boobs, pushing them together. You can feel him twitch inside of you. In the corner of your eye, you see an older man swimming out at a brisk pace, and you embrace Frankie in a warm hug. Just as the man passes a few feet away, you ask, like there's nothing untoward going on:

"Warming up yet? I can't believe you can be so cold on a hot day like this."

Frankie chuckles as he swirls around with you again.

"You're so bad," he whispers into your ear. You smile wickedly.

"I just love my man and his big dick and thick waist."

Frankie laughs again, then looks up when he hears a motorboat approaching. It's a slightly bigger model, and in its wake come large waves that travel in towards the beach. The kids and teenagers eagerly await the waves, and Frankie readjusts his grip.

"Hold on."

As the waves start to wash over you, he bobs up and down, effectively fucking you with each jump. You hold on, try to mask your moans with laughter, but fuck, it's hard when he's inside you, all you want to do is scream, let everybody know that you're getting fucked by the best man in the world, the most handsome, perfect man with a huge dick that may not be all the way inside in this position but good Lord, it's far enough. You move with him, gasp little encouragements into his ear until he's digging his fingers so deep into the soft flesh of your ass that it's almost hurting.

"I'm gonna cum," he announces tightly, "God fucking dammit, baby, I'm so close."

"Good boy," you pant, and nothing more is needed. He exhales in a cough as he gets water in his mouth, and you feel your walls painted hot and sticky. Frankie slows down, plants his feet on the bottom, and holds you close. You feel his heart pound hard against your own chest, and you hold him tightly and kiss his neck.

"This was so naughty," you whisper, and he laughs breathlessly.

"Worth getting arrested for."

"Uh-huh."

He slips out of you, and you straighten out his swimwear and your own.

"Wanna get out of the water?" you ask, but Frankie shakes his head. His eyes twinkle as he smirks.

"I like it here, in the wet."

[manheeiim]

chapter four: sweet on the inside & outside

-- a ghostly love masterlist

The next day, we all sat in our usual circle in the gymnasium. Mr. Martin was talking to all of us as we passed the donut box around. 

“There’s an old cider mill off Route 47, and my parents would toss us in the Dodge Coronet. We’d each get a bag of warm, greasy donuts. That was my idea of nirvana.” Mr. Martin says, thinking back to his memories as a kid.

I grabbed a glazed donut from the box before handing it to Wally who took it, making sure that he grazed his fingers over mine as he did so. He got a jelly donut out of the box and handed the box over to Rhonda.

“What’s that about?” She asks. He looked at her confused. “You always leave me the worst one.” Rhonda complains. I bring my hand up to my neck and rub the side of it. I don’t know why but she has gotten on my nerves ever since I met her. 

“What do you mean? It’s lemon glazed.” Wally tells her.

“Nobody wants a lemon donut.” Rhonda remarks.

I mean she was right about that.

“Guys, the subject is nirvana.” Mr. Martin says.

“No, the subject is entitlement.” Rhonda retorts. 

“Oh, okay. I’m entitled because I like anything filled with jelly.” Wally sighs. “It’s not my fault I like things with sweet stuff inside of it.” Wally then adds, looking over at me and giving me a wink. 

“Oh my god.” I say, shocked at his constant boldness, especially in front of the others.

“Ew. Just ew.” Rhonda says. “I don’t even want that anymore. That’s gross.” She says.

“Guys, the subject is nirvana.” Mr. Martin repeats.

“Excuse me, can I be excused? I just want to eat my donut in peace.” Wally says.

“More entitlement.” Rhonda puts her hand up in disbelief.

“It’s not entitlement, Rhonda. Okay? It’s about- it’s about digestion.” Wally tells her.

I can’t hold back my laugh. Wally looks over to me and smiles after hearing my laugh.

“Oh, Lucia. I’ve just been reminded. I have a homework assignment for you.” Mr. Martin tells me.

I blink a few times, “Homework?” I ask.

“Well, kind of. I want you to write your obituary. Everyone here has done it already.” He says.

 “I…” I trail off. I sigh. “Okay.” I shrug. I didn’t have the energy to complain right now.

There’s a sudden weird sound and I looked over to see Wally slurping the jelly out of the donut. “Oh, my god.” He says. enjoying the jelly.

“Um… I’ll just.. start that now actually.” I say.

“Yeah.” Mr. Martin says, agreeing with me.

<3

I then spent the next day writing my obituary. Even if the last few months, or well, years of my life hadn’t been that great, there were some core memories that I had. I guess writing it out was nice. I found Mr. Martin in the hallway after I’d finished so that I could give it to him. “Mr. Martin.” I say and he looks over. “I finished my obituary.” I told him.

“Wow, thank you.” He says as he takes the papers from me.

“You’re welcome.” I softly say.

“How did it feel? Writing all of that out.” Mr. Martin asked.

“It felt… nice.” I admit.

“Good.” He smiles.

There’s a few moments of awkward silence. “Well… see you.” I say and he just nods before I turn around and walk away.

<3

I sit on the bleachers in the pool room with Charley as Rhonda sits on the edge of the pool and Wally sits in a float in the water, wearing only some swim trunks and sunglasses. Charley was applying some of Rhonda’s sunscreen to his arms. Why? I don’t know, there was really no point. But, you do you, I guess.

“Uh, easy with the coppertone, hun.” Rhonda comments.

“Yeah, that bottle’s got to last her another 60 years.” Wally says.

I watch as she kicks her foot in the water, splashing some water at him, “Don’t be a cube.” She says.

I giggle at what she’d said. Yeah, she was definitely from the ‘60s. She looks over at me with a scowl on her face. 

“I- I’m sorry.” I say, not really meaning it. “It’s just.. nothing. It’s nothing.” I say.

“You are such a bug.” She says.

I twirl a part of my hair with my finger, “Alright.” I dismissively say. 

“I love this smell.” Charley says, rather loudly, trying to get us to stop. “Coconut, verbena. You can be anywhere; Miami, Aruba.” He tells us. “I miss a good sunburn.” He says.

“I miss pussy.” Wally says and everyone looks over at him. “What? I thought we were talking about stuff that we missed.” He tells us.

I cover my face with my hands. I can’t.

<3

“So, how have you been adjusting to the life of the undead?” Wally asks as we sit on the bleachers. It was nighttime and so it was quite pretty with all the stars and all.

“The life of the undead?” I ask, giggling at the way he phrased it. Wally smiled after hearing me laugh. “Um, yeah. It’s… actually not been that bad. I think it’s actually better than things were when I was alive.” I say.

“Really?” He asks and I nod. “Why? Cause I’m here now?” Wally asks, smirking at me.

“No.” I partially lied. I mean, honestly, I wouldn’t admit it to him just yet, but… I was glad that I met him, even if we were ghosts and even if he was constantly making inappropriate jokes.

“I’ll change your mind, don’t worry.” He says.

“Oh, really? And how exactly are you going to do that?” I ask.

He looks down at my lap before looking into my eyes again, “Well, I have a couple of ideas.” He teases.

I gently push his chest, “You’re a little too bold.” I say.

“Nothing wrong with that.” Wally shrugs. 

“When it comes to you.. there is.” I tease back.

“I can’t help it when you look like that in your uniform.” Wally tells me.

“So, if I wasn’t wearing this then you wouldn’t be like this?” I ask.

“Nah, you’d be fine either way.” Wally says.

Was it so wrong that even if his boldness was a lot, that I liked it?

[goldfishontheceiling]

TEAM E-SCOPE (+ Owen) BEACH HEADCANONS!!

Pronouns for these HCs:

Izzy: She/They/Xe (Izzy uses neoprounouns it's canon I'm Fresh TV /j)

Eva: She/He

Owen: He/Him

Noah: He/They

Izzy:

- insists on driving (do NOT let her drive!!)

- loves sitting in the front

- stares out the window or sings along to the radio most of the car ride

- begs Eva to stop at the gas station

- xe always gets sour gummy worms

- no sour gummy worms? sour patch kids

- no sour patch kids? sweedish fish

- no sweedish fish? RIOT

- absolutely LOVES the water

- they go out super deep and scare the shit out of everyone

- chases the icecream truck until xe gets the whole group icecream

- *borrows bridgette's surboard* *tries to surf* *fails miserably*

- 100% brings googles

- likes catching fish with their bare hands (or teeth)

-she splashed Eva once (and got thrown headfirst into Owen's sandcastle as a result)

- collects seashells

- tries to take home crabs as pets

- a little more chill on the ride home but this is Izzy we're talking about xe's never chill

Eva:

- designated driver (has road rage)

- *aggressively honks horn* "DRIVE FASTER BITCH"

- always gets some chocolate and a coffee at the gas station

- hates the radio but plays it for Izzy (she keeps the mp3 player on standby incase it gets too bad)

- mostly swims with Izzy or plays volleyball

- *plays volleyball with some strangers* *gets mad and chucks the ball at one of their faces*

- tries to relax (emphasis on the tries)

- she knows cpr!!

- he gets salt water and/or sand in her eyes everytime

- will yell at you (lovingly) if you forget to put on sunscreen

- he makes sure everyone drinks water (no Izzy ocean water doesn't count) and stays hydrated!!

- wears sunglasses pretty much the entire time

- will make sure nobody tracks sand into the car

Owen:

- sits in the back with Noah

- he gets everyone to play "I spy" with him (Izzy can't focus, Noah's half asleep, and Eva's more focused on trying not to scream then things that are the color yellow)

- if the others are busy/don't want to play he usually whips out the DVD player

- did I mention that he collects DVDs? his favorite movies are cloudy with a chance of meatballs, toy story, and ratatouille

- always gets gummy sharks or jolly ranchers

- Owen packs the best snacks and brings things they all like (strawberries, veggie straws, goldfish, cheez its, etc)

- he even made sandwiches and fruit salads!!

- the water's nice and all, but the SAND!!

- he makes the best sand castles

- since Owen canonically has 3 brothers, he knows a lot of games (sand castle building contest, marco polo, "who can dig the deepest hole in 5 minutes," etc)

- gives the seashells he finds to Izzy

- speaking of Izzy, xe burries Owen in the sand atleast once everytine they go

Noah:

- he ususally drives for shorter trips, but long car rides make him tired

- you can not convince me that this man doesn't latch on to Owen like a koala when he naps

- Owen angles the DVD player somewhere they could both see incase Noah wakes up

- at first, Noah just reads a book (or stares out the window when he gets carsick) but he always ends up falling asleep at some point

- whenever they stop at the gas station, Owen always makes sure to get something for Noah

- they always bring their book with them to the beach

- he protects that book like a lifeline

- once he either finishes the book or the others bug him enough, THEN he does stuff

- Izzy always tries to convince them to get in the water

- 9 times out of 10 he says no

- but on the occasional times they say yes, they almost drown

- Owen carries Noah pretty much everywhere lmao

- he doesn't really like water (and no I won't be making an IOTS refrence no matter how tempting it is)

- they help Owen with his sand castle!!

- Noah isn't much of a beach person but that doesn't mean he can't have fun

- and ofc he falls back asleep on the ride back

[seedofjoseph]

but you choose death and company

Fandom: Far Cry 5

Pairing: John Seed x F!Deputy

Raiting: E (explicit)

Words: 3700

Warning: dub-con, intoxication, bondage, blood & injury, guilt-tripping, gaslighting, love-bombing & other indoctrination tactics

John Seed hasn't been seen on his ranch since the snow slid off of the rooftops this spring. Since the day began to grow and the night all but withered away, he has been sowing fear and reaping rewards.

The moon looks on in silence as he unloads an armory's worth of bullets into your sanctuary: Spread Eagle Bar.

"If you want your drink," Mary May Fairgrave coughs, emerging from the smoke. "John's serving it at Seed Ranch," she hisses as you hold her, skin still sizzling from the Molotov cocktail that burned down her life. "Son of a bitch reaped my entire supply."

Not a single star hears your death wish over the angry roar of your engine.

"I know you're parched," John Seed slurs over the static. "I know there's nothing like a cold drink after a hot summer's day of sinning," he breathes down your neck, out the radio receiver on your shoulder, as any suicide co-pilot would. "You want seconds? Thirds? I've got enough to last you the Collapse, so won't you share one with me, Deputy?"

Just as rumoured, the Reaper is nowhere to be seen on Seed Ranch. There is no trace of humans welcoming the trespasser either. There is nobody but the cold moon to spot you sneaking across, up, and onto a balcony. And there he is, in the warm light of the master bedroom, the beacon in the night.

"Deputy?"

Or, rather, a pale reflection of the Baptist who had you hooked with piercing blue eyes from star-studded waters all those nights ago. Tonight, he looks to you like a faded photograph, like a man drowning in shallow waters. Even his eyes shine like the moon, like a mere mirror of the sun.

"Welcome," he throws his heavy hands towards the ceiling. "To your atonement," he dropped them to his hips, but they slipped on the silky robe falling in blue waves on his sides. "You're here," his voice is small, like he is on his last breath. "You're really here."

Tonight, he looks like Death.

Drawing your handgun, you step out of the night and into the light. "You invited me."

"And you RSVPed," he blinks, his wax face melting before your solid apparition. Slowly raising his hands from where they hung like weights at his sides, he points to the silver tray floating on a sea of blue sheets. "Thirsty? You must be thirsty."

Drawing closer, you take note of the lack of a holster under his robe, and you don't jot down the absence of undergarments. But you can't help taking in the black ink on the white canvass of his calves that are being revealed to you as he turns on his heels. Or the sway in his step on the short walk to the bed.

"And you must be drunk."

"Nine years," he snarls, snatching two full glasses and swiveling around. With his face now reddening at the edges, he starts spitting fire and almost pours out the alcohol onto the sheets. "Nine years of sobriety down the fucking drain," he empties one glass and stretches his arm out towards you with the other. "Because of you. You've done this. All of this," he narrows his eyes, struggling to stare you down. "You've lit a fire inside me, Wrath. Which lit a bigger fire in Fall's End, which-"

You cock the gun. "You steal businesses, you ruin homes, and you take lives," you raised your voice with a vengeance. "You're the one sowing wrath, Seed, and it's about fucking time you reap it." But, before the barrel can rise between his clouded blue eyes, two rifles are pointed at either side of your temple. "What the-"

"Didn't see it coming, did you, Wrath? Hah! You've been blinded by your sin," John Seed raises both hands, one for each sentinel stationed on either side of his balcony. "But I can heal you. I can open up this festering wound, I can fill it up, up, up," he brings the glass back between the two of you. "And I can put this fire out once and for all," he splashes the spirit between your eyes.

"Fuck," you fire off the gun in the darkness behind your burning eyes.

"Fuck," he echoes.

"Brother John," one voice rings in your right ear.

"Your face," a second voice sounds off in your left ear. "Your face is bleeding."

"Fuck my fucking face," John hisses. "Get that fucking gun away from her before she fires off another shot into the equipment."

There are footsteps stampeding all around you and both of your eardrums follow the rhythm. There is also a dark shape blocking the light burning your eyes as you open them.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you hear John hyperventilate. "The FM transmitter is fucking fucked."

"We can still record it."

The shape splits into two: one secures you gun and the other binds your arms behind your back.

"Yes," John's voice gets louder and louder. "Yes, brothers, the camera is still rolling."

Your blood boils hotter and hotter the closer and closer you're being dragged. "Camera?"

"Your atonement is a matter of public safety, Wrath," he sounds suffocatingly close now, like he's breathing down your neck unfiltered by the transmitter. "And of public interest. The fire you've started, your little resistance, needs to be extinguished county-wide and it needs to be done tonight."

Once he gives you back your space, his speech is distant and cold again, like the moon. They are both watching you wrestle the hands pulling yours above your head and pushing them into the matress: "This is the will of the Father."

"Make it a public execution then," you scream to the ceiling, or the skies, or the stars. "Because I won't confess, I won't beg for forgiveness, and I'll die before I say yes," you scream to whoever might be looking down, to whoever your blind eyes can't see.

"And I will die before I martyr you," he sounds questionably sober and definitely wrathful, like the bullet you misfired had brought him back to life.

"I bet you would, Seed," you sound like Wrath herself. "I bet you sent security home and brought along your little camera crew for it," you snarl left and right and all around you at the feeling of your wrists being fastened to the bedpost.

"And I bet you came here with no plan, no backup, and no hope that you'll make it out alive," his words fall heavy on your ears. "But you can beg, and plead and pray all night. I will not damn your soul to hell," his thighs are weights on your torso as he sits astride. "I will descend into the deep dark depths. I will flood you with pain and drown every demon in my wake," he roars over the ripping of your cotton shirt and your spandex sports bra. "I will cleanse you."

"No," you bellow, bucking your hips up into his which rut back into yours. "No," you wail, wiggling your wrists in the rope. "No," you choke, curving your spine and pouring your chest into the cups of his hands.

"Yes," he screams, squeezing your supple flesh. "Yes," he persists, pinching the peaks, pulling them up along with your pitch. "Say yes," he insists, inducing a fever inside of you.

"No," you burn - eyes, body, soul and all.

"Say you want me dead more than you want your barmaid to live," he rages, your fire spreading through him. "Say you want to die taking me down more than you want to live by her side," he releases your breasts only to bring back his hands on them with a slap. "Say it." And another.

"Yes," you cough, your throat tightening. "Yes, bastard, yes," you sob. "Yes, I want to burn with you more than I want to drink with her tonight," you cry, putting out the fire in your eyes.

"Ah," John Seed exhales, cooling off your hot tears. "There she is," he inhales, taking your breath away. "There's my Wrath," he whispers, confesing his own sin in the confines of your open mouth, his thick beard raking up against the sore skin of your chin. "She's really here," he pulls away his face and his hand from yours.

After his withdrawl, your sight returns everything comes into focus: the zoom of the camera lense on your face, the blood red graze of your bullet against his, and the heavenly blue of his eyes. No longer is he reflecting the yellow light hanging from the ceiling. Now it's shimmering with unshed tears and a glow all their own, as the sun itself would.

"You won't regret this," he speaks to you, but his eyes turns to his side. "I promise," he nods, summoning the other santinel along with the silver tray.

"You're not here to surrender your life," he takes a swing of the bottle before bringing to your mouth. "You're here to receive a new one," he wets his lips as yours wrap around the rim. "A life free of sin," he smiles as you suckle. "For I will scrub you clean of every one of them," he pulls away the drink and pours the rest all over your chest. Licking up the liquor with his eyes as it runs between the valley of your breasts, he replaces the empty bottle with a loaded tattoo gun. "Starting with the one you already confessed: wrath. After, we'll go with gluttony since I already indulged you. Then, we see where the night takes us. So, my dear, what do you say?"

With a cleared vision, you watch him. Yet, it isn't what your eyes see that clears your mind, but what you don't see: wrath. There is no wrath lighting the fire in John Seed's sweat-slick chest, or his blow-out eyes, or even the heat of his velvet cock under his silk robe, atop the pit of your burning belly.

With a cleared voice, you speak.

"Yes."

*

John Seed hasn't been sleeping in his own king-sized bed since winter came to an end. Since the sun started rising earlier, so has he. And, at night, he sets alongside it, over the horizon and down into his bunker.

The sun catches you sleeping in the Seed Ranch master bedroom the morning after your atonement. The morning after, the master himself is also spotted in there.

He grumbles, gathering your bandaged body into his arms. "How's the hangover?"

You snort, seeking out his heat through the thin sheet separating your skins. "Believe it or not, I've had worse."

"Oh, but I believe it," he runs one hand across your thrumming temple. "I've also had worse," he grabs a glass with the other. "Only water for you from now on," he offers.

You accept.

The sun catches you drinking in the sight of his Adam's apple bobbing. And your tongue tasting your own lips while his press up against the impression of them on the rim. And it couldn't have missed the buck of his bare hips into your covered crotch. You had just squeezed your thighs around him, your own body betraying your truth as it did throughout the night.

"My dear," he grits his teeth, gripping the glass tight. "What was that about you being a good girl?"

"Oh, John," you suck your bottom lip and squeeze your eyes shut. "I thought you washed away the bad."

Before the sun caught you in bed together, John Seed had carved out of you a confession of carnal desire for Mary May Fairgrave. And for him.

It was the last of the seven sins he exorcised out of you, the sin he exposed between your hipbones, into your womb, and onto a digital camera's memory card. It was the sin he shared with you, just out of frame, as he exorcised it out of himself, exposing his big burning erection to you and erupting between your blood-stained thighs. After your Atonement, he washed away his sin as well as yours with a cold sponge, but not before burning Lust with the salt of the two of them combined.

And now, after the sun caught you, he traces it with trembling fingers through the white sheet and the bloody bandage coming between your bodies.

"I did, didn't I?" He hisses, just as thirsty, hungry, and touch-starved as you. "Yes, I did. This can't be Lust. This can't be sin."

"How is this not sin?"

Because you bled it out all over your scarred stomach and trembling thighs. He scrubbed it clean with his hot seed and a cold sponge. Your body throbbed like you'd been training until your muscles burned, like you were energized by the endorphins flooding your bloodstream. Because the old you died under the moon last night, and a new you was born in the sunlight this morning.

"Because I choked it out," he presses his open palm to your pelvis and his forehead against your own. "And I breathed life into you."

He has to believe that. And you? You also have to believe that. After you gave up your life to be born again, to bleed out on his mattress and wake up in his bed, you have to believe that. You have to believe him.

"Your urges," he sniffs, the smell of you seeping through the sheet. "My urges," he swallows, the taste of you soaking up his tongue. "They are from God."

He has to believe in Him. And you? You have to believe in Him, too. As sure as the sun watches over you this morning, He is your witness. And you have to believe in Him.

"My dear," he brushes his nose up against yours. "As God is my witness, I gave you life," he presses his lips against yours. "I gave you my life," he pushes each word into your mouth. "As God is my witness, you were reborn in my bed last night," he growls, gripping the sheet and the bandage with one hand and ripping them off of your torso.

"Yes," you now share his breath as you've been sharing his bed. "Yes," you now share his breath as his fingers force your windpipe close. "Yes, John, yes," you now choke as he constrains your airwaves.

This can't be sin. You have to believe it. You have to believe him.

You have to believe he'll revive you after strangling the life out of you. You have to believe his deadly hands are scrubbing you clean of sin. And you have to believe his seed is disinfecting your sin as his cock spills it all over your stomach.

"My dear girl," he marvels at you. "You're all clean now," he runs his fingers over the sore spot he just squeezed. "You're pure," he rubs his come into each letter he carved and then mixes it with yours as it pours out of your pussy. "Immaculate."

"Brother John?"

"Yes?"

The door stays closed, but the voice bursts through it all the same. "The Father is requesting permission to land."

"Joseph is here?"

"The Father is here."

*

They can't remember the last time Joseph Seed stepped foot on the ranch. Though they do remember he didn't approve of any alcoholic beverages being stocked in the kitchen pantry or served on silver trays. And John Seed does remember swearing out his sin when he first arrived in Hope County.

"Shh," he smoothes back your shower-soaked hair. "I washed it all away," he towels off your torso, careful not to cause any of your scars to spill. Though he does take his time with Gluttony, the sin he disinfected using the last bottle of your favorite beverage when he spilled it all over the letters on your lower back, turning the liquor into holy water. "Joseph will see that."

And Joseph Seed can't wait to see it.

The voice returns and brings along knuckles rapping at the master bedroom door. "Brother John?"

"Yes?"

"The Father is downstairs."

Slicking back his wet hair, John looks down on you and sees that you are still damp. "If you hadn't shot the FM transmitter, he wouldn't have to be here," he says, eyes burning with a fire that cannot be Wrath, even if the angry scar on his cheek stings of that very sin. It stings of your sin. "He will see that," he repeats himself, retracing the word he carved into your chest and reigniting the pain he used to purify you.

He will see it, just like John said. And he will see it, but not through a thin bedsheet or a bloody bandage. Joseph Seed will see it through a white cotton dress.

"I won't ask if you have a bra laying around," you caress the Eden's Gate cross that is splayed out onto your chest. It doesn't cover your breasts or the nipples which poke at it like needles, and you won't ask who'd worn it before you, even as you trace your Envy tattoo. "But what about-"

"You won't be needing any," he smirks, stuffing himself into a pair of underwear that seems too small for him and too large for you. He smirks because he caught you staring at his bare body, shimmering in the sunlight.

"And you won't be needing shoes either," he answers before you ask, pulling his pants over his boots.

The rapping at the door comes back for an encore.

"Coming," he calls towards the door, his biceps bulging under the blue shirt sleeves he's rolling up. "Come," he calls to you, offering you his arm.

When you stretch out both of yours to meet him, you feel the fastenings you fought against last night and watch your rope-burnt wrists as you wrap them around his forearm.

"Look at you." And when you look up at the man who had you bound to his, you see none of the wrath that he had to wrestle into submission last night. Instead, you see another fire you've ignited within him. "You're perfect."

The morning after your Atonement, you see nothing but clear blue skies and the sun catching in his eyes. And, on the same morning, you see Joseph Seed in daylight for the very first time.

"Good morning," John Seed declares, descending the stairs with you on his arm. But the man on the first level remains reclined in his chair and as silent as the animal trophies on the mantel. "And what a good morning it is. Sorry for keeping you waiting, brother," he hurries to the bottom step and only halts to help you off of it. "There is no rest for the wicked," he holds his breath, holds your hands in the crook of his elbow, and your bare, sore feet on the hard, wood floor. "And this one kept me up all night."

You look up to him, searching for something to cool your nerves inside of his eyes, but failed to find it. The moon wasn't there, nor was the sun, but there was a fire. And they were watching the Father, burning holes into the back of his head as he stood up.

"I see," he speaks but doesn't look back. His eyes are captivated by the camera display, the details of your delay up on the small screen, and under his scrutiny. "You've been working yourself into an early grave, John," he slams the screen shut, the sound of which startles you both. "The last I heard from you was a gunshot," he sets the camera down on the coffee table, right next to a handgun and a badge. "Then, static."

"It was the deputy," John jumps to defend himself, making you jerk. "She was one step away from falling off the edge," he braces himself, bracing his hands where they're gripping him by the bicep. "I pulled her soul away from the precipice of hell itself," he looks at you, at where your fingers are intertwined and where his own joined them. He looks at you and his muscles, along with his nerves, unknot. "I saved her, Joseph. The deputy is dead."

"I see," Joseph speaks. And, following John's line of sight, you arrive at the aviator sunglasses and the light catching in them. "Bring her to me."

This morning, you see Joseph Seed in daylight for the very first time. On the same morning, he sees you, the real you. While you have your white dress to hide behind, there is nothing but yellow glass standing between your body and his naked stare. And while you walk to him with John Seed's warm hands on your shoulders, a chill climbs up your spine in time with his eyes reaching yours from all the way down your bare toes.

"God is watching," he stares you down, lifting your face up with both of his hands. "He saw you opening your heart, shedding your skin, and baring your soul," he descends onto you, his forehead falling atop yours. "He saw you have embraced His gift and He has graced you with a new life," he smothers your nose with his. "Will you trust me with it? Remember God is watching us."

"Yes," John soothes you by spinning circles into your wing bones. "Say yes," he thumbs the Pride tattoo through the thin thin cotton.

"Yes," you whimper into his mouth, which is only a word away. "Yes, Father, yes" you exhale, all the air in your lungs now lost between his lips.

"My child," he inhales and moves his mouth before it can meld with yours. And you're breathless as it presses against your furrowed brow. "The Gates of Eden are now open to you," he exhales over the wet outline of his kiss. "Your Brother John will march you right through."

"Yes, Joseph," John joins in, kissing the crown of your head and compressing your tenderized body between their two hardened ones. "I'll keep her safe," he joins his and the Father's foreheads, sighing in relief and ruffling your hair. "I'll protect our Family."

The sun catches you under the Father's chin, your nose in his shirt collar, and his scent on your tongue. And it couldn't have missed Brother John's hand on your stomach, over the knee-length skirt of your dress, and the still-sore Lust scar. And God sees everything.

The junior deputy was last been seen alive driving over the speed limit in the dead of night. Only the sun and God Himself watch over her now. And every eye in a Hope County household with a plugged-in TV set.

[kay-wren]

I'll Come Running - R.C. - Chapter 33

Rafe rolled up his sleeves as if to relieve some tension as he walked out of the restaurant to his two girls. Jessie was at the end of the dock playing with Charley as they splashed their hands in the water. Jessie heard Rafe stomp down the dock and turned to look at him, clearly disgruntled.

Without so much as a word, Rafe picked up Charley, and attempted to grab Jessie's hand to indicate that they were leaving. Jessie didn't take the bait.

"What was that?" Jessie asked with a somewhat disgusted look on her face. Charley began to fuss, clearly wanting to play in the water some more.

"Daddy put me down!" Charley cried as she tried to get loose from Rafe's grasp, she was obviously unsuccessful.

"We need to leave." Rafe persisted, speaking to both of his girls at the same time, but looking at Jessie with wide eyes and a continued outstretched hand. Jessie could tell Rafe wasn't playing, and Charley could too. Rather than cause another scene, Jessie simply huffed and took her husband's hand. Rafe walked back to the truck with Charley on his hip and Jessie in his grasp, proving a point to whoever he assumed was watching.

They made it back to the truck with no words, not even a protest from Charley. Charley had a sixth sense just like her mom and dad of knowing when tension was high. Jessie hated that she could already sense that, maybe she did make the wrong choice getting back with Rafe?

Rafe sped off in the direction of the local super market, his hands clutching the steering wheel tightly. He was afraid to speak, not knowing what would fly out. Jessie, on the other hand, was never afraid to speak, and she certainly wasn't going to start now.

"Listen if you're going to fly into fits of rage then-"

"Jessie" Rafe said sternly but calmly as he looked in her direction for a moment as if to say please don't start this.

"Jessie, Barry deserved everything that was coming to him and you know it. You know I'm not gonna let him bully my family, especially not anymore now that I don't need him like I used to."

Jessie knew exactly what he meant by that. Rafe wasn't using, so Rafe didn't need Barry anymore. The gloves were off, he had no reason to be nice to that man, and why would he when he's so openly intimidating his wife and daughter?

"You taught me not to be a doormat, remember?"

"Yeah, but Charley-"

"I told you to take Charley outside and you did. She didn't see anything so what's the problem?" Rafe asked a little more angrily this time. "Don't act like I'm some piece of shit father who's gonna thump people in front of his own kid, I'm not Luke!" Rafe finished with venom in his voice.

That was enough to make Jessie go silent, as she looked at the side profile of Rafe, looking angry but still un phased. Jessie simply turned her head and looked out the window. Rafe picked at a very old wound she thought had healed. That's where Jessie's worry came from with Rafe being around Charley. That's why Jessie left, to keep Charley from having to be emotionally intelligent enough to decipher her father's moods and motives just like she once did so well. Despite the sadness Jessie was feeling, she didn't cry, she never did. Rather, she turned inward to herself like a recluse, refusing to let Charley or Rafe see her sweat. Unfortunately, nobody knew Jessie like Rafe knew Jessie, and he could see right through it, but he would deal with it later. He wasn't going to do this in front of their daughter. Instead, Rafe opted to take a breath and lay a hand on Jessie's exposed thigh, as if to silently say I still love you and we're gonna get through this.

As if Jessie was riding a bicycle, she remembered exactly what Rafe was communicating by that gesture, and although she was still upset, they both silently agreed to put it to rest for the time being for their daughter.

With that, they finally made it to the store. They each piled out of the car, with Rafe grabbing Charley from her car seat and Jessie grabbing a cart to set her in.

They weaved in between the isles, picking up the necessities like bread, eggs, milk, lunch meat, fruit, veggies, and some stuff for meals. As they made their way through the store, Rafe and Jessie both heard all too familiar voices.

"Rafe! What the hell?!" Toppers voice billowed from the other side of isle ten. Rafe turned his head from the cereal and met eyes with the dirty blonde, who was making his way over. Rafe surprisingly was kind of relieved to see an old friend, Jessie, on the other hand, couldn't help but be disgusted. Top was a typical kook in Jessie's opinion, and she figured not much had changed from four years ago.

"Yo, Top! What's up?" Rafe asked as he went to dap up Topper with a smile. He didn't realize it until just then but he missed the handshake. Topper quickly realized who his long lost best friend was with, his look of surprise quickly turning sour.

"Jessie?" Topper asked filled with judgement. "I thought you, like... died?"

"Oh and I'm sure you wished I had." Jessie replied snarkily as she folded her hands together with the most sickening sweet smile.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Topper scowled and looked back at Rafe. "What the hell are you doing with her? Didn't she leave you like ages ago, dude are you serious?" Topper whispered. Not very well though because Jessie could definitely still hear the exchange. Truthfully, she figured Topper wanted her to hear.

"Hey, man, look, it's not like that anymore... we're back together, alright?" Rafe said calmly trying to ease the tension as he glanced back at Jessie to reassure her. Jessie took no offense to Toppers disappointment, knowing it was inevitable. The two had always hated each other.

"Nah, dude, come on you're better than this-"

"Hey," Rafe quickly interrupted. "It's not your decision." He corrected Topper with a finger pointed at his chest, making sure he got the message. Charley piped up at just the wrong time.

"Daddy, look!" Charley said a little too loudly as she pointed to one of the dolls in her hand. Jessie quickly shushed her daughter, Rafe trying not to look back, instead keeping his laser focus on his old best friend. Toppers disdain turned back to surprise as he finally laid eyes on the brown haired girl behind Rafe sitting in the cart. How he just now saw her, neither of them knew, Jessie figured it was because Topper was too self absorbed, as always.

"D-daddy?" Topper asked with a slight laugh and raise of his hands. "She's got you paying child support now? Dude, how do you not see right through this! Are you even sure she's yours? I mean... you know Jessie got around before you and-" Topper laughed a little harder and a little louder.

"Hey," Rafe said getting a little closer, close enough to take Topper's jaw in his massive hand slowly squeezing Topper's face. "I went looking for her alright? I didn't even know we had a daughter, and now that I do, neither of them are going anywhere, got it?" Rafe threatened with a calculated look in his eye. Topper stood down and simply nodded, still showing slight hesitation.

"Not that any of this is your business anyways, tube top." Jessie sassed as she grabbed the cart to start rolling away. That was Jessie's special nickname for the kook she hated the most, Topper couldn't forget the nickname if he tried.

Rafe couldn't help but laugh to himself and give Topper a sly smirk.

"See you around, Top." Rafe said as he walked away behind Jessie. There was the Rafe that Topper had come to know so well: sarcastic and smooth talking.

"Okay so we need beer for tonight too because the pogues are gonna wan-" Jessie was cut off by Rafe wrapping his arms around the cart and reaching his head around for a deep kiss. He wanted it to go much further but figured it wasn't best considering they were running into everyone they knew and didn't need anymore attention drawn to them.

"What was that for?" Jessie asked with a small smile on her face.

"That was for giving some sass to Top. I missed that." Rafe whispered with his hands still on each side of the shopping cart as he planted another kiss to her lips. Jessie did her fair share of kook partying with Rafe back in the day, which inevitably included Topper. Despite being smoke buddies, Topper and Jessie never could see eye to eye.

"Me too." Jessie joked after they pulled away. They both laughed. "I just hate that we're back even years later and it still feels like we have to sneak around just to not be judged."

"Let em judge baby. You're not my secret anymore." Rafe whispered, his arms still boxing her in. Jessie just smiled in appreciation.

"But seriously we need beers for the pogues tonight."

"You want your High Noons too? Black Cherry?" Rafe asked referring to the seltzer Jessie loved so much. He could never understand why that was her drink of choice but he never complained. Jessie was just happy that he still remembered such a small detail. She simply nodded in response and with that they were off to the next isle.

- - -

"Rafe can you please grab Charley? She's running around the house in her underwear and she needs to get cleaned up before the Pogues get here!" Jessie yelled from the kitchen as she was getting some snacks ready for the small party they were throwing tonight. It would be just like last night but at Tannyhill. Rafe had been on the phone ever since the family got home from grocery shopping, Jessie figured it was work related. With him being the new head of a multi million dollar company, he couldn't stay away from those pesky phone calls and emails for long.

"Rafe?!" Jessie said louder, clearly more in a panic, not knowing what mess Charley was getting into given the silence she noticed throughout the house. Charley was just like her father, always getting into trouble and impossible to keep track of. Jessie finally heard footsteps coming from the office, Rafe quickly whizzing by Jessie with his phone still connected to his face to make his way to the front yard to see Charley playing in the mud.

Rafe just stood there, astonished and confused about what to do. He's never been in this situation before. Does he hang up? Does he grab his daughter? Does he keep talking? He decided to try and kill two birds with one stone.

"Yeah, I'm gonna need you to send me those spreadsheets." Rafe kept talking as he squeezed the phone between his shoulder and cheek and picked up his dirty daughter. He gave her a look up and down followed by a look that said really?

Rafe awkwardly held the three year old out in front of him as he walked back in the house, still on the phone and clearly frantic. He zoomed into the kitchen, where Jessie caught the sight before her. She gasped, trying to keep quiet as she knew Rafe was still technically busy. She hated that she couldn't step away from the food on the stove to help, but, Charley was Rafe's responsibility too.

Rafe, clearly thinking quickly, put Charley in the massive sink. It actually seemed to be the perfect size for the toddler, and she found it sort of fun.

"I don't care! The spreadsheets better be done by the end of the week. I want contacts made on all of those prospects." Rafe demanded through the phone, both his girls picked up on the frustration in his voice. Nonetheless, Rafe turned on the sink water, getting it the perfect temperature, and began to hose Charley down, to which she couldn't help but giggle.

After a minute or two more of Rafe yelling through the phone, he finally hung up. Ironically, at the same time Jessie was done with what she had on the stove and made her way over to her husband.

"You do realize you're washing her with dish soap right?" Jessie asked with a smile on her face and a slight chuckle.

Rafe, still flustered, looked down at his daughter and back up at Jessie with sass.

"Well she's clean isn't she?" Rafe replied, with so much sass Jessie couldn't help but laugh. She kissed his cheek as if to say thank you. That wasn't good enough for Rafe. As Jessie went to walk away, he grabbed her hand just in time to spin her right back to him, grabbing her hips and pulling her in for a sweet, passionate kiss. Jessie tried to disconnect but Rafe wasn't having it, she figured this was his way of releasing some frustration from his recent phone call.

"Ewwww daddy!" Charley announced, still sitting in the sink with a cheeky grin. Rafe finally broke away, not soon enough though before hearing someone else.

"Yeah, ewwwww!" JJ reiterated, propped against the entryway of the kitchen with the Pogues in tow snickering. The comment was enough to startle all three of them, clearly not expecting someone to be in the house. Before JJ could even finish his sentence Rafe and Jessie parted, and Rafe reached for his waistband. However, once he quickly realized who it was, he released his grip on the cold metal on his side.

"Next time, it's a bullet, JJ." Rafe replied with a pointed finger, anger spilling over that he was caught off guard.

"Hey, hey..." Jessie tried to release the tension with a light hearted tone as she rubbed Rafe's back, who had now propped his hands on the sink in front of him, gripping it for dear life and clinching his jaw to stop from saying more.

"Yeah, yeah, noise noise." JJ waved his brother in law off, clearly not amused or afraid. "You're front door was wide open, dog"

Rafe's tension turned to one of remorse as he deeply sighed with a stellar look of guilt on his face and looked at Jessie, who had a smirk on her face.

"Must've... left the door open." Rafe awkwardly chuckled and nodded his head, as if to silently say he was sorry to his wife for getting so upset about something he caused. Jessie only nodded cheekily as if to except the silent apology, but not without a smirk and a pat on the back.

"Why don't you just go and get her changed. She's currently butt naked in our sink." Jessie laughed, still looking at Rafe.

"Good idea." Rafe replied as he scooped up the toddler and carried her to their room upstairs.

Jessie made her way over to the Pogues, meeting them with smiles and hugs.

"It feels so weird being back in this house." Sarah said with a hint of gladness, but mostly unrest, as she hugged Jessie and looked aimlessly around. Nothing had changed for Sarah.

"Well, you're more than welcome to stay here if you'd like, but we completely understand if you don't. Frankly, we're not all that comfortable with living here either. I don't think we'll be here for much longer." Jessie commented.

"Where you gonna go?" John B asked.

"Oh I don't know. That's not really something Rafe and I have talked about in detail yet, but it will be somewhere on Figure 8 I assume." Jessie replied.

"Why don't you wanna stay here? This place is... huge." Pope chimed in as they wondered into the living room, admiring the adorned walls and priceless artifacts. It seemed more like a museum than a house. And that it was to Rafe, Jessie, and Sarah... a museum of what once was childhood memories and newer ones that nobody was fond of remembering. Love had died in that house a long time ago, and that idea was really hard to convey to the other pogues.

"It just... holds too many bad memories for Rafe and I." Jessie simply replied with a shrug.

"I understand that." Sarah scoffed. "This house probably has a hex on it." She joked. Although Jessie laughed back she only found it more concerning, she wasn't so sure this house wasn't haunted with Ward's presence.

"Yeah, Charley still sleeps with us at night. We're just ready to start fresh with something that's new and our own."

"That's exciting! Maybe we can help decorate... once you find something of course." Sarah grinned.

"I'd love that. And the boys can move the furniture!" Jessie said with a smile. The boys mumbled back with a sarcastic slough of "yays" and "oh yeahs".

With that, Rafe finally made his way back down the stairs slowly as he held Charley's hand to let her try and walk down the steps one by one on her own. She was doing pretty good, but Rafe had a firm grip on her hand just in case he needed to yank her back up at any moment.

"Let's get this party started." John B announced as they all headed out to the pool.

[defrosted69]

Only You

 IVE Rei Fanfic

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 "Ahhh fucking colds.. Damn it.." 

You annoyingly said as you were laying on bed doing absolutly nothing. You hated how you were feeling weak and sick that your time was wasted laying in bed instead of doing something productive. You sigh and stared at the ceiling of your room. You have nobody to look out but yourself as you were now living in your small apartment. There was nobody that could aid you up and you prefer it like that. You didn't want to be a bother to anyone else besides you were also at fault for being sick. 

yesterday's rain was something and you didn't expect to rain that much so you brought no umbrella. Thinking you made the right decision, you obliviously went around the city without an umbrella. You were tasked to help send some fliers for your group project and you had to go around the city giving fliers to the people. Eventually, the weather caught up to you as a sudden downpour shocked everyone even you. Your fliers were soaked in the rain as you tried your best to look for a cover from the harsh rain but you couldn't find anything.

You eventually decided to head home and call it a day. You were soaking wet when you arrived at your dorm and felt so disgusted at yourself. You threw away your clothes in the washing bin and Immediately took a shower. You were waiting for the warm water to splash your face but nothing came. You turned the faucet over and over but no water came. At this point, you were frustrated that you had to boil water from the kitchen as that was your shower. That was a very wrong decision because while you waited for the water to boil. Your body began to shiver and soon you were already sneezing and coughing. You had thought that it was nothing but it eventually got worse after you took a shower. Your body become so sour and your back felt so heavy. You could feel your body warming up.

You eventually called over to your friend, Mina about your situation. Of course hearing your croaked voice immediately made her worry for you. You smiled hearing her worry for you as you joked around saying you were alright. Mina Myoui was your childhood friend and best friend since birth. 

You practical share each other's stuff and secrets. You were her pillar and she was yours. Both of you were practically each other's safe place. But even though she wanted to aid you, She was very busy with her schedule and couldn't come to you even for tomorrow. But she promised you that she'll do something to help you. 

A smile appeared on your face and thanked her. If there were someone you can count on, it will be her. But that was yesterday. Today was the worst day and you couldn't even move your body properly because of how sore it is. Your stomach was growling and you could feel your starving stomach hate you as small pain in your stomach was evident.

“Damn it! I need to make some noodles for me-"

. 

.

CLICK

.

.

 You heard your door open as this made you shocked. There was no other people who knows about your room password except yourself, parents and Mina. So it was strange that someone was able to enter your room so easily

"Ah Hello Jaeyoon Oppa. God you don't look so good."

 A familiar face was seen coming over to you as you sigh and smiled at her.

 "Rei. What are you doing here?" 

 "Nursing you duh? Can't you see?"

 "What did Mina said to you." 

 Rei just chuckled and hummed her response. Rei was Mina's younger sister and she was 2 years younger than you. You would often see her whenever you visit Mina at her home. The first time you met her was in middle school. She was wearing an adorable uniform which you complimented the young Rei. 

Even though you never thought much into it. That was the moment Rei fell in love with you/

Yes, Rei's first love was none other than her sister's best friend. Of course she was able to tell this to Mina around she started Highschool as Mina was shocked. Mina was smiling ear to ear knowing that her little sister likes you. I mean Mina practically knows that you were famous in school not because you were talented or anything but because you were nice to everyone. 

You were always helping people that even your teachers appreciate you. Mina knows that you were a very kind person but you were oblivious when it comes to someone liking you. You have always though that they wanted to be friends with you as Mina could recall her frustration toward you.

Through the following years, Mina helped Rei in every possible way but you were either busy helping others or you were doing your own things. And when Mina though that all hope was lost, This opportunity appeared as she immediately contacted Rei about it. Rei was a bit hesitant at first considering its been years since she gave up that feeling long ago. She knows that even if she tries her hardest, you will only see her as a little sister of your best friend. But Mina promised her  that this time will be different. So Rei decided to try for the last time. If it works, then maybe she can continue but if not. She can give up.

"Ah by the way Rei."

"Hai?"

"How's your debut going? You're agency isn't a scam right?" 

Rei laughed softly as she makes Ramen for you which you loved the most. The smell of her cooking made you walk to the kitchen with your blanket covering you. Rei blushed seeing how adorable you looked. 

"Awee you look so cute in that Oppa."

You groaned as you didn't like how Rei teased you but hearing her laugh was music to your ears.

 "Anyway, to answer your question. No they are not a scam. They are a legit company."

"Ohhh so you're following your sister's path huh? That's good." 

Rei smirked as she asked 

"Well aren't you a bit worried about me?" 

 "Of course I'm worried about you. Why wouldn't I be?" 

You said those words nonchalantly yet that made Rei super red as her heart raced so fast. She immediately turned her back on you not wanting to make eye contact with you.

"Do you know how scary a Kpop idol is right now? People in social media are ruthless. And I don't want you to face those criticism Because your so talented."

At this point, Rei was redder than a tomato as she quickly made the ramen and gave it you. Your eyes sparkled seeing her ramen as Rei sat opposite to you. She was a bit nervous because she wasn't that confident with her cooking skills. Yet when you took a bite of it, it was enough to close down 5 ramyeon shops nearby. 

"Woah! This is so good! You make the best Ramen Rei!" 

Your compliment made her shy as she looked down In embarrassment yet she was smiling ear to ear because of your words.

"Hey Rei. Have some."

You suddenly called Rei over as this surprised you. 

"N-No it's okay Oppa-"

"Come on. The chef should taste her cooking."

Even though Rei wanted to decline, your chopsticks were already filled as her heart began to beat so loud. She got close to you as you gently feed her food. Rei's eyes only focused on you as you were smiling at her seeing her eat a lot of food. You were afraid that she might lose her weight and you didn't want to see that. Rei on the other hand shy looked away from you as she gulped her food down.

"I-It's good.."

"Told you... Wait hold on.." 

 "Wha-" 

Your soft hands grabbed her cheeks as this action made her redder. Her eyes were wide as the moon as you wiped the excess noddles off her mouth. 

"Geez Rei, you eat like a kid.”

You chuckled at her but Rei was silent. She was too mesmerized by what was happening that she didn't know what to do. So instead of talking, she just let you wipe the noddles away as every second felt like an hour for her and she didn't want this to end soon. But good things does come to an end. You removed your hands away from her cheeks as she immediately missed your warm hands around her cheeks. She felt a little sad that it ended so soon. 

"There we go. All cleaned up." 

Rei could only just sigh as both of you talked trough out and when you were finally sent to bed, Rei made sure to wipe your body first in order to calm your temperature down. Now it was the opposite as you were the one who's shying away. This made Rei laugh and tease you.

"Ohh is Oppa scared of water? Ewwww he'll stink."

You wanted to speak up but Rei shut you up as she washes your arms which made you shiver from the cold. You were expecting Rei to roughly wash your body but surprisingly, she was so gentle and relaxing that it almost made you asleep. 

Once that was done she tucked you in bed as you felt like a little baby with her touch. It sounded a little embarrassing for you but you actually enjoyed Rei taking care of you. Even though she was younger than you, you felt like you were being taken care with love like how your mother took care of you. 

"Feeling comfortable Oppa?"

You nodded your head at her as she smiled at you. She felt satisfied and proud of herself as you looked so comfortable on your bed. Her heart was beating loudly as your sweet smile was making her heart flutter. 

"Say Rei."

"Hai" 

 "If you became a famous Idol someday. Will you forget about me?" 

A simple question yet hard to answer. Some would say yes in a heartbeat but Rei Hesitated because she knows that becoming famous means all eyes will be on her. She didn't want to ruin the bond you and her built but she also didn't want to make you a stranger because of her fame. But will she forget about you?

Absolutely not, but will she sacrifice her fame for her love for you? That's a big asterisk for her.

"Oppa, why would I forget you? You're always with Mina Unnie anyway so there's no way I'll forget you." 

She sweetly smiled at you as you smiled back.

"That's nice to hear." 

Even though Rei said those words, she felt like she wouldn't see you much anymore. Mina knew that since Rei was gonna be a kpop idol, her time for meeting you will be lessened to the point both of you will have no time for each other. A bittersweet smile appear on her face as she stroke your hair gently.

She began to sing a lullaby as her angelic voice somehow made you feel relaxed and at calm. You might be able to understand the lyrics she was saying singing but hearing the emotion on her voice somehow made you feel sad. Her singing made you feel like she was trying to say something but couldn't figure it out. 

As the song ended, sleep had already took over you as Rei smiled seeing you peace sleeping. 

"I'm sorry Oppa... I probably won't see you again and this might be the last time we can see each other..." 

 She felt her tears forming in her eyes as she wiped them away not wanting to wake you up. 

"So.. For the first and last time Oppa, I'll say this.." 

She leaned towards your face as she smiled sweetly with a few tears forming in her eyes. 

"Aishitemasu" 

She gave your forehead one long peck to finally say what she felt towards you. This was the goodbye between her feelings as she ventures into a new chapter of her life. She gave you one longing look before leaving you completely asleep in your comfortable apartment.

.

.

TIMESKIP 2 YEARS LATER

. 

.

Tired and being worn out physically and emotionally is normal for an adult like you as you laid your body on your bed not even changing your clothes. Hectic as it sounds, it was your daily life to work because without it there was no way you would have a roof above your head to stay at. Before you thought that being an adult and doing the stuff you wanted to do was fun but now, you wished that you never grew up and just stayed being a kid. 

"Uh, I wanna vacation so bad...."

You wished upon yourself a good get away from the stress of life and just unwind for a bit. And your prayers were answered by a call from your co-worker.

"Hello? 

"Yow, Jaehoon you still awake?

"I was about to knock myself out. Why?

"I need help...

 "Why? Your wife kicked you out? 

 "Kinda, anyway I need help

"Fine, I'll be there...

You ended the call and decided to washup a little to wake yourself up. Maybe a few alcohol will make you forget about the stress even for a bit as you left your apartment and went to your friend. You were familiar with the street as you found him on his favorite stall, drinking alone. He waved a hand at you as you sat opposite to him. 

 "So what's your hold up?"

 You asked him as you pour a drink on your small glass.

"Well, my girl thought I was cheating on her with our coworker. I was just helping her and now this." 

"Wasn't that newbie kinda flirty with you?" 

"No, I though she just was being nice." 

 You chuckled as you dranked your glass and filled it again. 

"Anyway, how's your love life?"

You could only sigh as you recalled the many blind dates you went through. Most of the girls you met were all nice and preety but nobody just clicked with your personality. There was no chemistry with them as if they were very far away from you. What they like is different from what you like. You tried your best to match their best interest but it just want worth it. 

"I can't even last 4 months in a relationship. I'm hopeless in that department."

Your friend looked at you with a sad expression as you dranked a whole bottle of soju.

"Come on, you're not. I'm sure there's someone for you."

You scoffed as a painful yet bitter memory flashed in your mind. You couldn't believe the day would come where you would recall her. The very first person you loved and the very first person that made realize how love can be painful. You finished one bottle which surprised your friend aa you ordered another one

"Well there was one girl, which I thought would last..."

He saw how devastated you look as he was all ears

. 

.

.

 "Finally going home"

.

.

.

Yunjin said as everyone sight a relief in their company car. Their day has been very busy and they barely had time to eat or breath. 

"Aren't we gonna go to lotte world tomorrow unnie?" 

Liz asked as Geul nodded her head at the younger one. 

"Yup, maybe we can enjoy our time there while shooting." 

Yunjin said as the car errupted in cheers. They needed some sort of getaway from the stressful schedule of an idol because their fame was really on the top. IVE was a success right from debut and was a success with their music too. They were charting and producing bangers after bangers and was got the kpop industry in their hands. 

But success comes with stress and tight schedule which was bad for the health especially for them with all eyes on them. As their car drives them home, Rei looked over the window watching the night street of seoul. She was reminded by how japan night streets looks so familiar with seoul as a small smile appeared on her face. A faint memory suddenly popped into her head as she smiled shyly. Though this was noticed by Leeseo as she smirked. 

"Rei Unnie, is smiling by herself." 

Her voice alarmed everyone as Rei immediately blushed hearing the comment of Leeseo.

"Yah, you-" 

"Oh my Rei, got a guy problem? I'm the love expert." 

Yunjin said as Rei just covered her face in embarrassment. 

"It's not-"

"Come on Rei, I know it's a guy problem when I see it." 

Liz added as Rei couldn't do anything. She was cornered as Wonyoung just smiled happily seeing the chaos unfold. 

"Could it be... You like a male idol?!" 

Yunjin gasped as everyone widen their eyes. It was gonna be a big deal esport considering how famous their group was. 

"No!!" 

Rei's sudden raise in voice silenced everyone as even Rei was surprised by her sudden changed in voice. 

"I-I'm sorry I didn't mean to scream like that." 

Rei apologized immediately as her members accepted it. They too realized they might have gone over board with teasing her.

“Yeah we're sorry about that too But back to the topic. Who were you thinking about?" 

 As the atmosphere around them calmed down. Rei's blushed appeared once again as she her mind immediately went to you. 

"I was just... Thinking about my... First love.. T-that's all." 

Her members melted seeing how cute she was as they were intrigued to know more about her story.

"So. What's he like?"

"Umm.. Well.. He-" 

Her eyes glimpsed at a familiar figure as her heart arched seeing that person.

"Manager-nim can we stop for a second?"

"Huh? Umm sure?"

Everyone was confused by Rei as her manager pulled over to a nearby stop by as Rei hurriedly open the door and runned back. 

"Rei! Come back!" 

Geul said as her members followed her running towards her as Rei didn't care if her face was seen on the street. 

"There's no way... Please..."

Rei's thought was filled with sad thoughts as her legs finally stopped running. Her heart arched seeing how pitiful you looked. Until her eyes landed on the person aiding you. 

"You... Get your hands off him." 

Rei marched towards the girl as she successfully snatched you away from the girl. 

"Rei-"

"Don't Rei me you scumbag!" 

Her members finally caught up to her and was about to go to her when they hear her say 

"DIDN'T YOU CAUSE ENOUGH DAMAGED TO HIM! WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT FROM HIM!! ISN'T BREAKING HIS HEART ENOUGH FOR YOU?!"

Giselle was silent as she knew that she was at fault. Rei hated her and probably even Mina at that. She knows how much damaged she cause and that guilt has been with her ever since then. 

"Rei, It's not like that.." 

"Then what?! Tell me!"

"Rei! Calm down."

Liz finally appeared infront of the girl as the rest of her members calmed Rei down. Yunjin went to Giselle and apologized on Rei's behalf. 

"I'm so sorry Aeri Unnie."

"It's okay Yunjin. I understand Rei. What I did was unforgivable to her, to Jaeyoon and probably even to Mina...Can you please say this to Rei at least."

"Oh,uhhh of course."

"Please tell her I'm sorry."

Yunjin nodded as Giselle gave you and Rei one last look before she walked away from the scene.

"Wow, That's the first time I saw you legit angry."

Wonyoung said as Rei took in deep breaths before looking at you. 

"Baka..." 

You managed to open your eyes as what you were seeing were blurred and spinning pictures as this made you feel dizzy.

"Where... Am I..." 

You said as this alarmed Rei as she immediately stared at you. You were confused at first as you couldn't see her at first.

"Oppa. It's me Rei, can you see?"

"R.. Rei?" 

"Yes that's me-" 

"The cute little sister of Mina? Of course I know you. You were very, very cute back then..." 

You were spouting nonsense as your mind was in autopilot saying all what you remembered about Rei. Your sudden statement suprised everyone especially Rei who was red as a tomato. Yunjin and Geul were shocked by this as Liz and Leeseo both had a smirk on their faces. 

 "Yah, You're drunk Oppa. Come on. Let's go.”

"Where... Where we going Honey?" 

The last word took everyone off aa Rei was frozen on her feet. Her face slowly turning red as she looked down in shame. she could feel the smriks and teasing stares her members were giving her as Rei thought

“This idiot...”

.

.

.

.

“Ughh..where am I-”

“So your finally awake huh?”

Rei’s familiar voice awoke you as you look to where the voice was coming from.

"R-Rei? How did I end up on your.. Bed?"

You found it comfortable how her bed engulfs your body making you sleepy once again.

Rei saw how your eyes were closing as she Couldn't help but chuckle at your cuteness.

"You're at our dorm Oppa. You were kinda wasted last night."

You gasped as you felt embarrassed by your action. It was embarrassing enough that you were drunk but for Rei to see your pathetic state only emberassed you further.

"Oh god what have I done.."

You covered your face with your hands covering your flustered face. Rei smiled softly as her hand touches yours as she wanted to see you closer.

You found it weird that Rei was shining infront of your eyes and was looking beautiful than ever.

"Oppa, why are you staring at me?"

She smiled brightly as you blushed and looked away avoiding her gaze.

"It's nothing.."

Rei chuckled sweetly as her lovely laugh sent a warm yet fuzzy feeling down your stomach making you feel happy.

"Oppa, you shouldn't be drinking a lot. You could have gotten into trouble if I didn't see you."

Rei clenched her fist in anger remembering seeing Giselle with you. Her blood bloid remembering how she broke you completely.

She still remembers how jealous she felt whenever you talk about Giselle with Mina and she wanted to just dissappear. But when news broke that they broke up, Rei was the happiest girl alive thinking she might finally have a chance with you but seeing you so devastate made her heart shatter into thousand pieces.

She promised herself that day that she will make sure that Giselle will never touch you again or even interact with you. And she did live out to that promise.

She made sure that Giselle has no opportunities to talk to you as Rei would go out of her way making sure she doesn't even breath the same air with you.

She though that by now, Giselle would give up on you yet seeing her close to you once again only provoked her even further.

"Sorry Rei, I just remembered Aeri all of a sudden then-"

"She what?"

"She appeared on the shop tired and broken I just. I can't bear seeing her hurt and all that."

"Oppa, do you still like her?"

Rei held your hands as her eyes stared into yours. She wasn't gonna hold back anymore, She wanted to know the truth. Now.

You saw your own reflection on her eyes and saw something that you once saw in the eyes of Giselle.

.

.

.

.

.

It was love.

.

.

.

"Rei, who's your first love?"

Rei was taken back by your sudden question as this time, she was the one feeling flustered.

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"Believe it or not my first love was your sister Mina."

She couldn't speak as she didn't expect this revelation that came out of nowhere.

"You liked Mina Unnie?"

A hint of sadness can be heard from her as you nodded your head.

"She was caring, always there for me, smiles brightly, makes me feel appriciated. Your sister have it all in what a girl I like."

"I-I see..."

Rei looked down as she didn't what to do. One part of her wanted to congratulate her older sister for being her crush first love. But one side also wanted to cry knowing that her older sister captivated you and she didn't.

It was painful enough that she lost to Giselle but hearing that her older sister was who he liked made it even sadder for her. She felt like there was no hope for her.

She did all she can in the game called love. She had enough bets to gamble and what did that result in? Failure and nothing in return. She lost more than what she can gain.

"Aeri made me feel those so when I found out that she was cheating on me, I was broken because I didn't expect that would happen to me. It was painful."

You held your fist holding back those painful memories to flood your thoughts.

"I thought I would never found it. I though my ideal girl was impossible to find. Yet.."

Rei's heart started to race faster as she saw how different his eyes looked compared to earlier. It was soft and dreamy, the look she dreamed of seeing from you.

"... I found it in you Rei."

Her cheeks flushed red.

Her heart raced so fast.

Her breathing stopped.

She felt like time stopped temporarily as both locked at each other's eyes.

"You were caring, you were almost with me looking out for me and cheering me whenever I feel down, your smile never lost it's warmth even after you achieved your dreams, and you make me proud seeing how far you have gotten."

"O-Oppa.."

"Rei, I'm sorry I didn't realize it sooner. I'm sorry. All I asked for was with me from the start. I-I'm not worthy for you anymore Rei-"

And just like that, Rei shut you up with her warm soft lips. It tasted like caramel. A sweer sensation that you will forever remember.

Fireworks blew off as Rei locked her lips with yours. Both of your hearts were contented with each other as both pulled apart leaving a blushing mess.

"Baka, Who said I don't deserve you? I deserve you more than you deserve me Oppa."

"But-"

"No but's. You don't need to down yourself anymore cause I will give you the love you deserve. The love that will keep you moving forward. The love that will make you smiling. The love that will make you remember the name Rei."

Rei poked your nose as you chuckled at her. You pulled her closer to you giving her a warm hug as Rei hugged you back.

There was no doubt about it. You were sure about your choice as she was sure about you.

You were each other's only love.

.

.

.

[letstrythisout4]

Chapter 4: Blaise Zabini and the invasion of the library

Series Masterlist

Oh so this is what she meant, is what Blaise concludes as Isabella strolls right up into his secluded corner in the library and sits herself down right in front of him, ruffling through her bag.

She begins to pull out parchment, two quills and a bottle of ink. “Do you have your Charms textbook on you? I forgot mine.” she whispers to Blaise.

Silently handing over his copy, Isabella offers him a grateful smile and gets to work on what Blaise can only assume is the essay Flitwick assigned this week.

Once it became clear that she had no immediate intentions of interrogating him, Blaise returns to Sherlock and Watson’s investigation of the scene of the crime.

Sherlock Holmes approached the body, and, kneeling down, examined it intently. “You are sure that there is no wound?” he asked, pointing to numerous gouts and splashes of blood which lay all round.

Stories like this remind Blaise how stupid blood supremacy is. He has yet to find a wizarding author who captures his attention like Arthur Doyle and yet if he were to ever recommend his books to any of his roommates he would be putting an immense target on his back. Crabbe probably couldn’t even read A Study in Scarlet  not because it was written by a muggle but because…he can’t seem to read at all.

“Is that A Study in Scarlet?” Isabella questioned.

Blaise hummed in agreement, not looking up from its pages. The sound of a zipper opening , parchment and quills being brushed against the wood of the table and a zipper closing meets Blaise’s ears.

“Have you read it before?”

“Mhm”

“What did you think?” she urged.

“Well, I’m reading it again aren’t I?” Blaise inquired, placing his bookmark into the novel and setting it aside.

“No need for the attitude. I just didn’t know purebloods had access to muggle fiction.” she bickered.

“Well not all purebloods are idiots so…” He trailed off as he began to question just how much he wanted to tell Isabella, staring at the ceiling as if it would decide for him.

“How’d you get a copy?”

“I bought it.”

“When?”

“Reyes, why are you here?” Blaise challenged deciding to see how far he would have to push to get her to walk away.

“Because you’re lonely looking and nosey. I can appreciate that.” When Blaise involuntarily dragged his hand down his face, she continued “ I mean I can tell that if you wanted to you could be really popular in your house. But instead you sit here alone instead of bothering the Gryffindor quidditch team like the rest of the Slytherin boys.”

“Oh yes I’m mature enough to not care whenever Potter gets unwanted benefits, how special am I?” he responded with a dramatic stretch.

“Incredibly actually, everyone else likes to be all up in his business. Meanwhile you prefer to be in the business of everyone but Harry.”

“He has enough people involved in his life, he doesn’t need me to add to the numbers.”

“That’s very considerate of you.” Isabella announced to the table, as if there was anyone there other than the two of them .

“Who cares?”

“I care.”

That forces Blaise to look at her for the first time since she sat down. Her hair was pulled into her preferred ponytail with her curls going in every direction and her eyes were so honest that Blaise forgot that he should probably respond. 

Jumping at the opportunity to finally make eye contact she adds,  “Nobody really thinks like that. Again I say, "I can appreciate it.”

Blaise nodded several times as he tried to piece words together to form an appropriate response. And Isabella leaned back in her chair crossing her arms with a smug smile, apparently satisfied that he seemed to finally be listening to her meaning, not just her words.

After a moment Isabella must have decided he was taking too long as she suddenly declared, “And so I have made a decision!”

“A decision?”

“Yes, a decision, we will be friends.” she stated as if it were the most obvious choice in the world.

Blaise raised a brow. “Do I get any say in this decision?” 

“Nope.” and she struts away, once again leaving Blaise confused.

From then on Isabella seemed to just appear. Arriving early to their shared classes and asking him about his day only returning to her seat when the other kids could be heard down the hall. Primarily she would join him in the library. Sometimes to silently do homework and other times to interrogate him about his life.

“What’s your family like?” she questioned, once again indulging in her curiosity. Blaise looked at her and she was in what Blaise had silently dubbed her ‘Tired Stance’; chair pushed far enough back to allow her to rest her elbows near the edge of the table, lying her head on her arms, peering up at him through her eyelashes.

“Small. It’s just my mom and I.” 

Blaise quickly found himself enjoying Isabella’s presence. She fit his standards of people he doesn’t dislike being around. For every “flaw” she had, she had a trait that balanced it. She wasn’t top of class (those positions were consistently taken by Granger, Malfoy and himself) but she worked incredibly hard to maintain good grades. Her questions (well endless) were always genuine. And she wasn’t afraid to sit in silence. 

Blaise really liked that last trait.

“What about extended family?”

“My mom doesn’t have siblings, so it's just my grandparents and I never talk to them…Now that I think about it, I don’t know if they're even alive.

“Oh, what's that like?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well I have five siblings-”

“FIVE?!”

“Yes and-”

“Why?” Blaise pried with a reproachful tone paired with a deep frown.

“I don’t know, my parents wanted six kids I guess, what do you want me to say?” she argued hotly.

“My bad I just, large families like that are really rare in the wizarding world.”

“Hmm, well I guess I should add that they are half siblings. My parents had them while in their previous marriages.”

“...ok.”

“I don’t know why you’re acting so shocked Mr. I Enjoy Muggle Culture.”

“Just because I know alot about muggles doesn’t mean when I get reminded about certain things I’m not taken aback.”

“Hmmmmmm fair enough.” she conceded. “Now going back to what I was saying” -she shot him a glare- “before you rudely interrupted me. On both sides of my family I have tons of cousins and aunts and uncles so it's just weird to me that you don’t have…anybody else.”

“Wizarding families tend to stay small, like two to three kids at most. As for what it’s like, I mean I never had anything different so I can’t compare but I know my mom has my back so that’s all that really matters.” She bites her lip at that and Blaise can practically see her weighing the pros and cons of asking her next question. “Just ask, I won’t get offended.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” he assured, despite growing anxious.

“What about your dad?”

The roll of his eyes is immediate.

“I don’t care about my dad.”

“... please elaborate.”

Blaise takes a breath. The kind that fills your lungs to full capacity before blowing it out his mouth quietly. “If you ask anyone at this school about me, they will eventually tell you that my mom allegedly marries and kills men for their money.” 

“Oh!”

“Yeah.” And while he is tempted to leave it there, he decides to continue. “I shan’t confirm or deny that rumor, I will say that my father was one of those many dead husbands. And that he wasn’t the first one. Therefore he married my mother despite knowing her history of men she marries mysteriously dying.”

“Uh huh.”

“Ergo he was an idiot. Beyond all of that though, I don’t have a need or desire for a father. My mother is raising me just fine on her own, no nannies, no caretakes just her. She has ensured I have a proper education, manners, and am plenty independent and functional. She takes care of me and most importantly she loves me. So no, I don’t care about my dad.”

Content with his rant, he observes as emotion swells in Isabella's eyes.

“She sounds great.” is all she says, her voice thick.

“She is.” 

Isabella sits up and clears her throat before stating, “I have made a decision.”

A sense of dread fills him, “What now, Reyes?”

“You need more friends.”

Why does everyone say that?

“No thank you, I have plenty of friends.”

“Like who?”

“Hyunwoo, Kira and Obi.”

“And me.” she adds.

A debate commences inside of Blaise, “And you.” Blaise agrees a second later than polite.

Isabella’s face lights up at his words, “Ok great. Four friends, only one of which attends this school. Not looking great. How many”- she tilts her head side to side- “acquaintances do you have?”

“One.”

“Who?”

“Theo Nott.”

“That’s the boy you always sit with right?”

“That’s him.” Just as Blaise had suspected, Theo had sat next to him in classes and meals as a way to dodge being recruited into Malfoy's entourage. 

“Ok so you have five people your age that you interact with regularly, correct?”

“Yes.”

“That’s depressing, Blaise.”

I know she’s not talking about me.

“What about you then, Reyes?” he accused.

“What about me?”

“How many friends do you have?”

“Not many. But, I have lots and lots of acquaintances. Plenty of people who I can rely on and who know they can rely on me.”

“Like who?” He echoed back to her.

“Like almost my whole house.”

That made Blaise pause. “...Liar.”

“Nuh uh.”

“I-” 

“...”

“Did you just say “nuh uh”?”

“Yup.”

“That-. I-. Ignoring that, I don’t believe you. There is no way you are on good terms with the majority of the house.”

“It's actually pretty easy, not to be a stereotype but most of the people in Hufflepuff are really friendly.”

“Yes I can believe that. But I know that you, Reyes, are not. So I don’t see how this applies.”

Isabella had the nerve to fake a gasp and dramatically clutch her non-existent pearls. “I am a delight.”

Isabella was … lots of things but a delight was not one of them. Blaise would describe her as a menace and danger to society before a delight. She had her moments of kindness, he’ll give her that. But she was blunt like a cleaver, enjoyed bickering and never shied away from confrontation. 

“Whatever you say Reyes.”

“My house loves me. I can talk to almost anyone and have a great conversation.”

“Almost?”

A chuckle escaped her,”There are a very small handful of people who aren’t fond of me.”

“Can’t imagine why.” 

With a solid whack upside the head from a rolled up piece of parchment she intended to use for he Potions work she admitted “The point is. That you should meet the rest of my house.”

…

“No thank you.” Blaise said as he began to pack his bag. 

“Woah woah. Don’t run away.” She had her hands up towards him like she was trying to calm a wild horse. “I just think that if you gave them a chance they’d really like you.”

“While I appreciate the offer I’m not really Hufflepuff material.” he offered to her as he slung his bag over his shoulder. Her words brought him back to just a month ago when he sat in front of the school and listened to the Hat genuinely consider putting him in Hufflepuff. He escaped from the table, ignoring her calls to him. He made it out of the library and down the corridor before a cold hand gripped his shoulder forcing him to turn around.

“Blaise Zabini, you will make more friends.” she vowed, tightening her hold on him to punctuate her words. “ Whether they be Hufflepuufs, Ravenclaws, Slytherins or even-” her face twisted in disgust “ even Gryffindors. You will make more friends. We will start with Hufflepuffs, you’re most likely to have success there. Having friends in Hufflepuff will lead to being introduced to people from other houses, which will lead to having more friends.” She seemed to realize just how tight her hold on his shoulder had become because she swiftly let go of him and began to rub his shoulder in apology. “I understand not wanting a bunch of friends, I really do. But to spend all seven years of school with only one friend and one acquaintance can’t be good for you. You need a group, it doesn’t need to be large, it doesn't even need to make sense. But you need people you can lean on.”

Blaise turned his head to the right and glared at the wall of the corridor.

Isabella sighed and patted his shoulder, “Just sleep on it. We’ll plan it out tomorrow.” With a small smile she added, "It'll make you feel better.” just as she walked away.

Author’s notes: damn I dont know why this chapter feels so long to me but it does. I think it's because it's very Isabella and Blaise dynamic focused and it's my first time writing them interacting beyond isabella lowkey bullying him in the last chapter I don't know. But let me know what yall think, I'd love to hear if their personalities came across as much as I wanted them to. As always, if you enjoy and comment to share any and all thoughts. Thank you for reading

[axieta]

Hungry eyes

Henry Winter x reader|

WARNING!: some of the event portrayed in this chapter might be triggering for some as they include a light side of physical violence

Chapter 2

| looking straight into the eye of a hurricane|

It was during one of those rare dinners at Francis’ aunts’ summer house. Julian was in attendance.

I remember the tension in the rooms being almost too heavy, too packed to stand. Everyone was running around, cleaning imaginary specs of dust from bookshelves, checking on the dinner cooking slowly on the stove, putting the last polish onto the silverware. Everyone was so preoccupied with this once-in-a-millennia affair that it seemed that nobody noticed me, sulking in the big leather armchair in the corner, half-drunk and chasing the drunkenness down with a glass of cognac. Or her, the wild-eyed girl desperately trying to push herself as far away from the tasks at hand as possible. There wasn’t an ounce of laziness or indolence in the way she hunched behind my armchair. Rather it was full of vigor of some negative anticipation and if I didn’t know any better I would read it as weariness. It was as if she dreaded the moment Julian would walk through the door and everyone would focus on him.

Up to this point I noticed a few times how she tensed up in his presence but I’ve had always written it down to her attentive listening or eagerness to focus. But on that evening, as she gripped the beige leather of my armchair, right next to my head, and as she quietly mumbled under her breath from time to time, mostly curses and exclaims of irritation at her classmates, something dawned on me. She detested Julian. It was so strange, so bizarre, so out of place in this house full of people who worshipped him, that when the realisation came to me I almost spat the rest of the cognac I had in my mouth back into my glass. Strange. It was the first time I’ve seen her so weary. So tense.

Anyways, Julian came, punctual as a clock, and the dinner started. I remember it through a heavy mist of alcohol and even though I wasn’t as hammered as I could get back then, I wasn’t participating in conversation or even listening to it. All of my attention has been consumed by her. Silent as well, sitting on the far end of the table and seemingly intentionally detached from the crowd. She kept her gaze low, pinned on the meal served. In that moment it seemed that for her, one thing far more interesting than the discussion at hand was her fork digging through the mountain of potatoes that was piling on her plate. She did not seem excited like the rest of the lot. Rather, more than anytime before, she looked… dim. There wasn’t any feverish spark in her eyes, nor the frantic glow of her reddened cheeks. She looked smaller, less lively. And I wondered why that would be.

Somewhere at the very end of the supper, when the shadows outside stretched impossibly long and the sky took in the color of a ripe bruise, I decided I couldn’t hold myself back any longer and needed to go relieve myself. It is hard on you, the liquors, especially if you have a tiny bladder like me.

I sneaked out to the bathroom.

The second I saw my own reflection in the bathroom mirror I knew I had to compose myself. Dark shadows under my eyes, red and broken capillaries in them that gave my whites the unhealthy color of pinkish-red. Oh and the hair! God I looked homeless.

I splashed my reddened face with some water and then proceeded to stare at it, for approximately fifteen more minutes.

I swear to god, the room was spinning, the floor was moving and the strange, grape-and-wine pattern pressed with gold onto the tiles on the walls was slyly slithering across them in smooth serpent waves.

In fact, everything around me was moving. Myself included. The more I looked in the mirror, the more my face became distorted, twisted. Like clay or wax that melts under a too high-temperature.

I couldn’t handle my face getting more and more blurry and then distorted when I tried to focus on the reflected imagine of myself so I left.

My initial plan was to go back and sit at the table silently as I did before but I didn’t even get the chance to reach my destination. In my drunk stupor the distance from the first flor bathroom to the dining room, even though in reality couldn’t be more than ten meters, appeared impossibly long at that moment. And the wooden panels of the corridor bordering those two rooms, greasy and shiny with floor polish didn’t help. Neither did the panels themselves, as with every step they seemed to slide from under my feet and rotate viciously backwards halting and regressing me in every step. Finally I managed to reach the desired door frame. A dark portal sheeted with thin, gold threads of light coming from the heath blazing idly right in front of me. Specs of dust danced on air as I moved closer and every each one of them swirled and spiraled with unique silverness to it. The hall behind me crept with some strange, hair rising darkness and so only the warm glow before me felt like the right direction to take.

I didn’t make it to the table. My legs were too wobbly, head to heavy. And so the big, leather armchair became by place of refuge. How comfortable it was! Soft leather caressed my feverish skin; big comfy cushions gave away underneath my weight and created and illusion of sitting on clouds, the shape of the headrest fitted perfectly under my soar neck. I closed my eyes delighted with the feeling of weightlessness and the slight spin of me head.

I must’ve dozed off, because when I opened my eyes again, all of them were leaving. The plates on the table empty and seemingly long-forgotten as the idle chatter of my classmates filled the room as they came closer and closer to where I have been resting.

A colorful pageant passed right before me. First came Julian, majestic and somehow authoritative in his usual stride with two personages on both of his sides - Henry, as dark as the night, wreathed in shadows with characteristically serious frown on his face, hanging onto Julian’s every word- and bunny, frilly swirl of beige and white, jumped around the teacher, clearly eager to give his two cents, light hair ruffled and shining like a halo around his reddened face.

Next were the twins. Their eternal, ghostly beauty accented by the dance of light and shadows from the fire place. Camilla was whispering something into Charles’ ear as he smiled mischievously. Their steps were light, almost inaudible on the old, creaking wooden panels. The grace enchanted into every step they took akin to the trained moves of ballet dancers.

Francis closed the procession, framing it beautifully with his tall, slim figure. His flamboyant posture towering over the twins. They all looked gorgeous, unreachable in their beauty. As I sat in my armchair, unnoticed by them, hidden in the shadows of the room, a quiet observer, I felt something tugging at my guts. An uncomfortable, ugly feeling. Jealousy.

I was alone, wanting, needing to be a part of this heart-stopping marvelous group. I desperately desired to be a part of it, to take part in the conversations, to hear what Camilla has been whispering to Charles and know what Henry’s been frowning about. I wanted to stand up, join them and feel like I belong.

The vile longing for belonging almost consumed me in that moment, almost enraged me to the point of violence, as I squeezed the armrests till my knuckles turned white.

But they passed me, didn’t even notice the lonely figure sitting in the corner, vailed by the darkness of the room. And I didn’t stand up.

All too soon the room became empty, the luminous heads disappeared in the darkness of the corridor.

I thought I was once again left alone to my devices, until I heard a loud shriek of a chair being dragged along the polished floor. And then steps, careful, almost lurking.

A figure stepped from the table and then onto the light casted by the blaze of the fire place. Her.

Even from so far away I could see those tightly squeezed eyes, glistening like two butts buried in ashes. The malevolent spark in them, together with the impish smile that curved her soft lips likened her to a goblin, proud of his mischievous prank. She looked so different from the angelic herd of her peers. Spooky.

I watched as her slender fingers dipped into the cleavage of her dress and pulled out a cigarette. I wasn’t quite as surprised by that actions as I was with her appearance, seeing as cigarettes were the only sure constant with her. She would smoke them on mass, sometimes even chain smoking.

Indoors, outdoors, library, park or a bar. It didn’t make much difference to her. When she wanted to light a ‘ciggy’ as she called them, she just did.

So it went as no surprise to me as she came closer to the heath and pushed the white roll into the flames.

Smoke went up and a sickening smell of burning tabaco reached me, prompting me to swallow down what I just had for dinner as it came up to my throat.

But she seemed content.

Softly humming some kind of a tune I couldn’t recognize, she leaned against the mantle and in steady, regular movements she slowly delighted herself with the cigarette.

It was like watching some kind of a ritual. The way she squinted her eyes with every inhale, and closed them with exhale. How she rose her hand, slim and almost rickety with how the shadows lay down in the valleys of its metacarpals. And how the said cigarette fitted superbly in her pursed mouth. Every and each detail of what she did with her hand, her lips, her eyes, it looked calculated, well trained, as if she was born with a cigarette in hand and those things came to her as naturally as breathing.

Such a simple task, and yet, performed by her, it was absolutely bewitching.

There was this Devine aura of delight surrounding her that presaged nothing good.

An agent of chaos that’s what she was. Lurking in the shadows with that impish smile, stretched out before the fire place as if she was the lady of the house.

She looked relaxed and yet there was some trace of tension in the way her body was posed. As if she was waiting for something, reading herself for an enticing turn of events I was not privy to. It seemed that in my slumber I must’ve missed out on some key mischief she concocted and now I would be observing the aftermath of it.

I felt provoked to stay. To watch as the rest of the evening turned out, even though my eyelids were growing heavier and heavier with every passing minute filled with cigarette some and that rich, deep voice of hers humming quietly, somewhere on the edge of my mind.

I watched as she threw the butt into the fire behind her and lit another snout.

And then he came in. Henry. All dark and evidently angry. I could see it in his face, and I swear to god I’ve never before, or after sen him this agitated. Like an angel of death he stepped into the room, floor creaking beneath his feet, the dark coat flapping around him like a set of wings. His hands were shaking with poorly concealed emotions.

‘You can’t smoke in here.’

His voice was raspy, almost as shaky as his hands, but it didn’t sound weak. On the contrary, it was powerful, coated with a strong undertone of authority.

‘Oh, don’t give me that.’

Was her response. Disinterested at best.

How strange. Up to this point I’ve always considered her to be the hotheaded one, and Henry the ice king, emotionless and calculated. But now, only after hearing a few words from each of them I was positively sure that in this clash she was the ice and he- fire.

Henry took a few steps and stopped, as if unsure if he could come any closer. She didn’t move an inch.

‘It seems to me that today of all days you chose to be exceptionally disagreeable.’

‘You blame me for that?’

‘I blame you for the way you conduct yourself.’

Her brow arched and I knew that if I was at the receiving end of the stare she threw him I would indubitably faint out of fear. But now it was his turn not to flinch.

Silence feel between them as they tasked each other with heavy glares. If looks could kill…

Henry was the first one to break the contact. Hurriedly he checked if anyone was coming their way, maybe he heard footsteps, and with a swift, agile motion he turned around and shut the door. I could see his face in that moment, as now it was en face to me. He looked scary. Like he was ready for murder. Anger and determination swirled across his sharp features. And it showed in the force with which he pushed the doors. The frame rattled, but he didn’t even noticed as he quickly left his station and in heavy, long strides devoured the distance between them. As he moved, surprisingly quick, a gust of wind swirled across the room. His figure crashed with hers and I heard air being knocked out of her chest as her back met the mantle.

Now he was as close to her as possible. His silhouette obscured the flames, as if his coat could consume any light casted near it. In the now dim room I could barely make out who was who. All I could see were two pale foreheads touching each other, no, pushing at each other, fighting in some strange struggle for dominance, hair mingling above them, tangled together.

Henry’s hands were now gripping her forearms, forcing her to stand upright, to face him. He pushed her back into the mantle and I could hear the seam of her dress sizzling on the hot coals. The impact knocked out the cigarette from her hand. It fell to the ground and in one miserable hiss, it went out.

I had read about fits of passion like that in books before. It almost usually had an romantic undertone to it. A hero of the story looses control over himself because of something the heroin did, and at last they let their emotions take control.

But there was nothing romantic in what I was seeing right then. Everything in the scene would indicate so - the closeness of two bodies, the heavy, raspy breathing of Henry, the rise and fall of her chest, the way she had to look up to even see his face.

But I knew, I felt it in the air that it wasn’t romantic. I saw it in her eyes, as they shined with a grotesque triumph, and in the downwards curve of Henry’s furious lips.

‘¿Por qué estás así? Malvada…’

Her dry laugh sent chills down my spine.

‘¿Malvada? Vaya… creo que puedes hacerlo mejor que eso. Malvada. Que broma.’

His teeth shined as he snarled at her.

I felt as if I should do something in that moment. In fact, second Henry shut the door so forcefully should have been my indicator to step in. But, and I’m very ashamed of it, I was to enraptured in the drama unfolding right before my own eyes to do anything.

Well, in all truth, I felt thrilled more than anything. It was as if they were inviting me to listen in on their conversation. Even though they were speaking Spanish, only god knows why of all the languages they knew they chose this one, I could understand a fair share of their conversation. You see, as a Californian, born and raised, I was obliged to learn Spanish in some level. I never told them that, but despite my inborn detest for that language I was quite good at it. And so, by the matter of predisposition I felt in the right to finally put my linguistic skills to the test.

‘No te voy a injuriar. Sabes lo que has hecho. La vergüenza debería ser suficiente.’

But he didn’t loosen his grip on her arms, nor did she lower her gaze in the shame she was supposed to feel.

‘Ese comportamiento tuyo… Yo… yo no lo puedo lograr. Eso… esa farsa… así no es como deben comportarse las damas.’

‘Juro que no. Y juro que esa Camilla tuya nunca se comportaría así, ¿es verdad o no?’

The heavy, almost tortured exhale that escaped Henry’s throat shook my hitherto conviction of the astute nature of this encounter.

‘Camilla es una dama.’

‘Y yo no.’

‘Esto no es lo que estoy diciendo.’

‘En hecho, parece así.’

Henry hung his head and I realized that it wasn’t anger I saw before in him. That was pain that misshaped his features. Pure, unadulterated pain, that made him look almost like a martyr. The way he gripped her, supported himself in her unyielding posture made it look as if he was seeking council in the arms of the Virgin Mary.

She seemed content, not at all tortured as he was. Her hand, the same she used to operate on her cigarette, rose once again. This time not to inhale smoke but to caress his cheek. Once again it was as if I was witnessing some kind of a ritual. A witchcraft happening right before my eyes.

Her slim hand amongst the disrupted flamelight painting bizarre shapes on the wall right next to me. The way she touched him, first with only the fingertips, but then, more daring, with her whole palm. Her hand slowly rested on his cheek, completely covering the side of his face. And the look she gave him- almost pitting, with a trace of a loving disappointment.

I more or less knew Henry well enough to know how he would react. I imagined that because of all the emotions I witnessed pass through him in such a short span of time, and the superiority she seemed to exude over him, I could only imagine he would reject the hand, push her away and task her with a look of the deepest discontent.

But then, to all my astonishment he leaned into her touch. Truly, like a lost pilgrim he accepted her comfort. His arms slid helplessly from her forearms and slithered around her waist. His large form shrunk in my eyes as he fitted himself into her. His head fitted perfectly under her chin.

‘Deja de perseguirme. Te ruego.’

She said nothing. Only caressed his cheek some more, and let her other hand weave through the dark curls.

‘No puedo comer, no puedo leer, soñar, escribir sin ser distraído por tu presencia. Me destrozas el alma con tus garras y en torno yo no puedo respirar sin añorar ese dolor.’

There was something truly tragic, pleading in his voice. As if the thing she was doing, I had no idea what that thing could be, was bringing him real, physical pain.

‘¿Pero qué me estás pidiendo? ¿Mi vida, qué es lo que te altera en mi presencia? Por último yo no hago nada… nada para herirte. Nada para hacerte falta.’

‘Eres tú.’

The accusation rang in his voice like an irrevocable verdict of a judge.

‘Todo eso, mi tormento, ese agujero enorme en mi pecho, los llamas que consumen mi alma cada vez que te miro… eres tú. Y todo esto debe acabar. Ya. Lo es que te estoy pidiendo.’

Despite his desperate words, he moved up, to once again join their foreheads together, but now it was gentle, almost shy. His nose brushed against her cheek as he nuzzled into her.

Now they were embracing each other. The moment turning from bordering on alarming to frighteningly intimate. I felt as if I should go, like the thing I was currently witnessing could at any moment turn into something neither I wanted nor felt comfortable witnessing. And yet, as many times before, I didn’t even move a muscle. Maybe it was my morbid curiosity, or a weird habit of peep-tomming I picked up here in Hampden, but I stayed seated, as I was.

And Henry continued.

‘Tú. Tú sola vives en mi mente sin cargos. Día y noche. Eres lo solo de que puedo pensar. El olor tuyo. Este pelo de terciopelo.’ As he spoke he picked a lock of her hair and pressed it to his face. ‘Tu sonrisa y estos jodidos ojos siniestros. Preocupen todos los parted de mí vida y yo… yo no puedo resistir a este embate de la existencia tuya.’

His words fell hurriedly from his lips, hushed against her own as they brushed softly together. It wasn’t a kiss, but I could see their skin touching in a feverish connection as he ranked into her and she took it with eyes closed. It was the first time I’ve seen her so motionless, so pliant, so open. With her head thrown back and back arched into him she almost looked as if she was the one at his mercy as he presented his pleas to her.

‘ Entonces no lo hagas. No te resistas nada más. Los dos, nos queremos… lo mismo.’

‘Lo sabes que no puedo. No cuando Bunny…’

The shriek that came out of her chilled me to the bone. The sheer strain of her throat and pain that resounded in it made me think for a second, that while I was focused on the two of them mingling by the fire, Henry pushed a dagger between her ribs.

But then I understood. That the pain I heard in her, was just it. It was the same pain that bloomed in Henry. It was like the ivy that climbed our auditorium. Ever-present and binding. It enraptured them both and joined them in this common suffering. In it they stood, together like the Parthenon marbles, foreheads touching, hands holding onto each other for dear life.

Speaking of life, it seemed as if all of it suddenly escaped her and now she slumped against Henry. Curling herself into him, she disappeared into the folds of his dark coat and mumbled something into his chest, too low for me to distinguish any of her words.

Something strange crossed Henry’s face as if her words offended him in some way. He pushed himself away from her and with the impact of the movement he circled around his own axis.

‘No me des esa mierda. ¡Él me confesó! ¡Es mi amigo!’

‘¿Y qué?’

‘Mi honor…’

‘¡Henry, Bunny ya tiene una novia!’

‘Eso no retiene ni agua, él me confesó. Ya, para actuar sobre mis emociones ¡sería como apuñarlo por la espalda!’

‘Cobarde.’

That stopped him in his tracks. Hunched over, out of breath from all the agitated pacing he looked at her. His cheeks red, furiously scarlet in the flames as he chugged at her in disbelief. Anger painted his face anew.

But in that scene, however intimidating Henry appeared, his agitated posture shriveled before her.

Tall, towering over him and illuminated by the flames she held her head high. And what I saw in her face in turn frightened me to no end. A tempest trapped in human features. Brows furrowed lips pursed in the purest expression of disgust, eyes blazing as if luminescent hot sparks of fire were ready to burst out of their irises. An undeniable power laid in the way she crossed her ankles and spread her arms on the mantle.

And her voice- rumbling like a thunder, merciless and sharp as a knife that cut through the ramblings of Henry.

‘Los dos sabemos perfectamente que en caso de Bunny no existe ningún término como honor. Si él estuviera en tu lugar, juro que me tendría sin reproches. La manera en que actúas me indica que tan solo eres un cobarde.’

A heavy silence ring between them after those words.

Henry finally seemed to catch his breath and he stretched to his full height. His composure came back, and with now steady hand he adjusted the spectacles that fell crookedly from his nose. Calm resolve settling into his features.

‘I don’t know how about you, but in my world it’s better to be a coward than a traitor.’

His coat flapped around him as he swirled on his heel and went to open the door.

As he was leaving, he threw one las look over his shoulder. And now with a softer, neigh apologetic note in his tone he said:

‘Goodnight to you.’

And he was off.

Stunned by the exchange I just witnessed I didn’t even notice as she crouched over and picked up the fallen cigarette.

I simply couldn’t fathom what I just had been a witness to. A lovers quarrel? An argument between friends? What was going on? And why was Bunny of all people tangled in all of this?

In my peripheral vision the smothered snout once again shined with heat and a tall figure neared me. She stopped right before the opened doors and inhaled an impressive amount of smoke. For a second I thought that she as well was going to overlook my presence and just carry on with her night.

But then she turned towards me.

A grey cloud os smoke escaped her mouth and obscured her whole head as she spoke, her voice unstrung and deep with the tabaco that had settled on her vocal cords. Only her eyes shined in the dark onslaught of mist.

‘Pick and choose your battles, am I right, Richard?’

And in a gust of smoke and a soft creak of the floor, she was gone.

When I woke up the sun was high in the sky. Bright autumn sky peaked through the loose curtains into the dinning room.

During the day the mansion looked quite different than by night.

Yesterday all of it, the tables floors, vases books and even the vanity table set on the middle of the main corridor appeared to me as a part of some ancient scripture. Unreal, brought to life by the ring of a bell and made of mist and alcohol. I feared that if I even touched something, it would dissolve into smoke right in my fingers.

But today, blessed with the soft rays of daylight it all seemed excruciatingly normal. Like any other summer house.

Well, it would seem normal if it wasn’t for the only other person present in the room as I woke up from my slumber.

She was sitting at the table, the same one we all dined at just a few hours prior. A cigarette fuming in the corner of her mouth, mountains of papers and books surrounding her like a sturdy castle wall.

She was reading something and simultaneously scribbling something on a piece of paper to her left.

In the daylight, when she was focused on something other than mischief I would say she looked rather beautiful. With her hair cascading freely over her shoulder and the sheer floor-length sleeping gown she could be taken for one of the angelic Jane Austen heroins. And after what I saw the night before, I thought that this comparison might be closer to the truth than any other that I managed to muster.

Strange how quick she could go from alarming intimidating to soothingly calm.

I intended to stand up, as quietly as possible, and while disturbing her as little as possible sneak myself upstairs to maybe wash up and catch some more sleep.

But as I slowly started to rise, her head swung my way, alert as if that was what she’s been waiting for.

‘Oh, you’re awake. Good. How was your sleep?’

‘Horrid.’

Her laugh was melodic, pure as the creeks of Ancient Greece, full with life and nothing like the dry shreds I heard from her yesterday.

‘I would assume as much. You’ve had quite a lot to drink, didn’t you.’

I nodded my head, not knowing what else to say, and that earned me another giggle. I have to say, when she wasn’t hellbent on scaring me, she could be rather charming.

‘Don’t be shy. Come here, I have some coffee for you. Come on, don’t be long it will help you.’

I moved towards the sit opposite to her, but she waved her hand dismissively and pushed one of the paper-book towers across the table top, so I had no other choice but to sit next to her.

She poured me some coffee from a glass coffee pot into a suspiciously clean glass. It was rather lukewarm, but still quite tasty. With no milk or sugar, it was truly what I needed to calm the torturous hammering inside of my skull.

From up close I could see that her gown was not sheer but rather see-through, and although I wasn’t very attracted to her, it was very hard for me (a true Sisyphean work) not to gaze downwards at her from time to time.

‘What are you doing?’

I pointed at the stack of papers under her elbow.

‘Oh well you know, reading, writing.’

‘What?’

‘This one here is my novel, that miserable stack is a dissertation, a rotten work really, something about industrialism I would imagine and this beauty here is my letter.’

One thing I learned about her was that she hated technology with a burning passion. There wasn’t a thing in this world she would detest as much as she did the modern inventions. In fact she would actively work to avoid any contact with it.

You could never see her typing away on a typing machine. Or idly chatting on a telephone. No, I think she would rather die than use any sort of that kind of inventions.

Instead she clung to the old ways. Writing letters was her thing. If she liked you, you could even receive a weekly subscription to her papery mumbling describing what she did, experienced and thought in the past week. It was in truth quite pleasant to be a recipient of those letters as both, her writing was quite light and enjoyable and it also showed that you meant something in her life. For example, in the course of the year I had spent in Hampden, since that Autumn morning I hadn’t received my letters only twice, and it was shortly after Bunny’s death.

The pursuit of the natural manifested also in her passion for walking. Everywhere she went, she got there by foot. Bar or a museum, she got around just fine, only by using her own pair of legs.

I don’t think she even had a car and it always irked me to know how on earth did she get to Hampden? Or better, how did she manage to travel all the way from school to this summer house?

After all she had never caught a lift with any of us, but at the same time she was always present there. It was truly a mystery to me.

After some time with her, I got to solve that last query, although at a large personal cost.

‘A letter? Who are you writing to?’

‘A friend.’

‘And a novel?’

A big toothy smile appeared on her face the moment I mentioned the novel. And for a second, as I looked at her I thought that it wasn’t the sun that blessed this room with this delicate warm light, but she herself.

She slid a few pieces of paper, all covered in minuscule tight and green handwriting.

‘Can I? Isn’t it private?’

‘What difference does it make. At some point someone’s gotta read it.’

‘Am I the first one to…’

‘But of course. I’ve never shared it with anyone before.’

‘Then why now?’

‘Because I trust you.’

‘Me? Why?’

And there it was, that wolfish grin again, along with the spark in her eyes that presaged an wonderful play for her, and a less pleasant ordeal for me.

‘Oh, Richard Papen, wouldn’t you like to know.’

And with that, I think, I became her accomplice.

[girlreviews]

Review #293: Last Splash, The Breeders

FUUUUUUUCK I love this record, but it permanently damaged the hearing in my right ear. I caught their show at Blackheath Hall in 2005. I put myself right at the front because I really loved them that much and I wanted — no, needed — to feel the heaving guitar in my chest, it felt like, to even continue on. I was seventeen so you know, everything felt a bit extra. I might as well have been hugging the PA system. Anyway, I didn’t anticipate what would happen during the part in Cannonball where Kim sings (yells) “WANT YOU, LITTLE CUCKOO” into the harmonic mic with all that distortion. Yeah, it’s loud. It’s so loud. My eardrum burst. I’ve had tinnitus ever since. My poor left eardrum suffered the same fate two weeks later at the Reading Fez (RIP), during a Mew show. Respectable, but so much less cool than its audio peeper partner in crime. Wear earplugs my friends. It’s not a joke.

Kim Deal founded The Breeders while The Pixies were on hiatus. Well that’s not true, she had been doing both but never able to focus on The Breeders, until 1993 when went Frank Black abruptly announced The Pixies hiatus live during an interview without informing the other band members first. The hiatus was kind of due burnout from recording three albums in two years and touring the hell out of them. Really though, Kim was not getting along with Frank. Here’s the thing — nobody really gets along with Frank. I love the Pixies. I do. But I will get into a fist fight with anyone who wants to insist that they’re better than The Breeders. They’re not. And the thing is, everyone has listened to The Pixies, while most of those same people haven’t given Kim and her band the same time of day. And you know why that is? Because they’re women who are playing heavy rock music. That’s all there is to it. I won’t hear anymore about it, I won’t say anymore about it and I’m not gonna fucking argue with you or anybody else about it. I’m right. Frank Black is a man, he fronts a band, so he gets paid more attention and listened to, and his shitfuck behavior gets dismissed as creative genius. The songs are great but that doesn’t mean you’re not an asshole, Frank! I’ll die on this hill but I’ll also throw hands before I do. Come at me.

I present to you, No Aloha, which actually, beautifully illustrates my point. It is also both beautiful and knockout punch effortlessly cool. It’s dreamy, and also like “we’re here to fuck shit up”. How can I express that it’s lovely and also ass kicking in its vague but biting commentary on being a woman in the music industry, and trying to make it in a band made up of all women (I think they’ve had a dude drummer in their line up from time to time to be fair, but still). It’s about how people that gave her the time of day during her Pixies tenure don’t give a shit about her now “No bye, no aloha, gone with a rock promoter” and how the perils of womanhood impact her creative output “motherhood means mental freeze, freezeheads, no aloha”. Think about what no aloha means. No hello. No goodbye. The disrespect. Ugh. Fuck yes to putting this out there unabashedly.

Obviously, Cannonball, the song that exploded my right ear, is iconic. If you don’t immediately recognize its bassline then I regret to inform you that you need to brush up on your general pop culture knowledge and you stand literally no chance of ever placing at any kind of trivia night. But most importantly, where have you been, and what have you been doing? And are you okay? Genuinely, you’re missing out. The whole thing about them is that musically they are just making some NOISE, and rocking so hard, but Kim’s voice is also so gentle and smooth. Like warm molten wax, or thick maple syrup and butter soaking into a perfect pancake. And she’s harmonizing with her own twin sister, who has the same voice? It’s too many textures but they’re polar opposites. It overwhelms and soothes at the same time. It’s quite an experience. So get it in your ears already.

There are some really lo-fi dulled down tracks, that are really tender and only a band of women could make them. Do You Love Me Now? Literally a low energy bass-led ballad earnestly asking someone if they want to get back together. It’s heart on sleeve girl bravery: I still love you and I don’t care if this doesn’t work out for me, I’m gonna say it. Such a poignant question, followed by a command:

“Does love ever end?

When two hearts are torn away?

Or does it go on?

And beat strong anyway?

You’ve loved me before

Do you love me now?

Come on come on come back to me

Right now”

It finishes with this cascade of harmonies. And I adore it.

My favorite track, and favorite story. Drivin’ on 9. A little ditty! Who doesn’t love a ditty? Again I need to talk about Kim’s voice. It’s like. It’s like. What is it like? When you toast a marshmallow and then squish it between a graham cracker and melted chocolate. It’s like, a smooth whiskey, probably (I don’t like whiskey). It’s like a tiny bird just landed on your hand for the briefest moment. It’s so delicate and precious and you don’t know how such a voice comes out of anyone’s mouth, but especially not hers, because she’s so tough and cool. The strings in the song make me want to die in the best way. Like when people say they died and went to heaven. They pluck it AND they use the bows. Why do I love it so much? Probably because it’s a song about driving and thinking. That’s my favorite thing to do.

“Drivin’ on 9

Lookin’ out my windowsill

Wonderin’ if I want you still

Wonderin’ what’s mine”

I last saw them play at Cannery Ballroom, and the most wonderful thing(s) happened. Firstly, they played this track, so I was happy to begin with. But there was some issue, like one of the violins was missing or broken or not able to be mic’d up correctly or something, I forget. So, Kelley Deal SANG the violin solo. And got it dead on. I cried. These women are just the coolest to ever do it.

I write these reviews because I fundamentally have a problem with the makeup of music critics being made up of men. And I notice looking back how these records and tracks are interconnected with trash men who have acted trash to me or others. I have things to say. I take issue with how they’re written as though their subjective opinions are gospel to be consumed as objective fact. This dynamic can make or break someone’s career when it’s their art and creative output that they’ve poured their heart and soul into. It’s no coincidence that music overall, but rock and alternative music in particular is made up of majority white men, too. Some with self-proclaimed “good taste” can just label it good or bad when it’s not necessarily made for someone that looks like them. These reviews are my experience and my opinion and it’s okay with me if you do or don’t agree, if you love a record that I hate, or if you hate a record I love. But more voices are important and remembering that they’re subjective opinions is pretty fucking important. Hearing someone’s passion (or lack of) about a record is more valuable than hearing their self-importance or gravitas. The Rolling Stone Top 500 is fundamentally flawed in how it’s compiled because of who it’s compiled by, and so I’m deconstructing it one review at a time, noting that as a white woman, the addition of my voice isn’t the full answer or even a big part of the answer. But like I said, I have things to say, and I hope if you have things to say, whoever you are, you’ll share too. But here we are: it’s just proving my point. I’ll be writing one review of The Breeders, but two for The Pixies.

I’m just doing what Kim did when she got sick of the bullshit with Frank Black and The Pixies and decided to do it her way. Nowhere near as loud, nowhere near as cool, and I expect your eardrums will survive my reviews in tact.

Signing off with these words from my favorite “girl” band:

“I see a boy I know

His hair's on fire

The whole world I discovered

If you're so special, why aren't you dead?

I just wanna get along

I just wanna get along

I just wanna get along

Wave bye bye

Cus it ain’t never coming down now”