#‘holy shit people romanticize this’

[alaskan-wallflower]

every single day i grow more and more appalled that there are actually kyman holocaust aus.

[heptarchate]

After old grievances were aired and lofty speeches delivered, McBride hammered out a fusion agreement, and when the deal was done, pandemonium broke out. "Men banged one another on broad backs," one of the founders reported. They "wept unashamedly, climbed up on collapsing chairs and yelled 'Unity! Unity!" Two miners who had led rival organizations in Ohio shook hands and swore allegiance to the new union, and then, to demonstrate their sincerity, they kissed each other on the lips. With this gesture of brotherhood, the United Mine Workers of America (UMWA) was born.

The Devil Is Here in These Hills: West Virginia's Coal Miners and Their Battle for Freedom - James Green

happy labor day

[rafeandonlyrafe]

obsessive love

words: 2.1k

warnings: 18+ only!!!, smut!!!, MURDER!!!, SERIAL KILLER!RAFE, PSYCHO!RAFE but sweet with reader, best friends to lover, DESCRIPTIONS OF BLOOD AND STABBING, physical violence, psycho!reader as well!, romanticization/sexualization of murder?, mentions of stalking (in the past), road head, blowjob, p in v sex, semi public sex, rafe beating up your dates tehe, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT (advisement to take caution and heed warnings! ty)

rafe is only half paying attention as the movie plays out on the screen. he’s far more focused on the way you’re tucked into him, squealing every time a jumpscare happens and ducking your head into his chest with a wide smile on your face.

it’s not unusual for you to get touchy with him, to cuddle in bed after a day together or hold hands when in a crowd. but lately rafe has found it difficult to not take things further. he has loved you since first grade. not had a crush on like some people like to say. no, rafe only knows deep, obsessive love for you.

it’s why you barely dated anyone high school, rafe was always there to beat your date up and make sure they didn’t reveal it was him. afterall, you’re his best friend. he just wants you to be happy. happy and with him. no one else deserves you, or can protect you the way he can, go to the extreme lengths rafe will.

rafe realized he was in deep shit when he was stalking one of your dates that he wasn’t able to get to. he dropped you off on your front porch and had the audacity to kiss you. rafe exploded the second you were inside. you found your date a bleeding and bruised pulp still on your doorstep the next morning.

“its not even that scary.” rafe chuckles, teasing you as you grip onto his forearm.

“yes it is!” you love getting scared. it’s what you often say is your worst feature. you may scream your head off at horror movies, but you’ll still drag rafe along to haunted houses come halloween and stay up late binging your favorite thrillers with a smile on your face despite the chills down your spine.

rafe forces himself to pay attention to the last couple minutes of the movie. its entertaining enough to distract him from wanting to pull you closer to him, to never let you go, to always keep you by his side where you're safe and happy.

an idea forms in rafes head as he watches the two characters finally kill the serial killer that had murdered all of their friends and tried to go after them. he watches the way they embrace, relief on their faces as they kiss, bonded together forever from the shared trauma.

rafe smiles as you ask him if he’s up for another movie, purposely navigating you to one involving an in love couple and people getting mysteriously murdered in their small town. rafe knows what he’s going to do to keep you close, to play into your fear and need for him.

--

“holy shit!” you grab the remote, unmuting the tv. you would apologize for using the language in front of wheezie, but she has just a bad of mouth as you do, and very little supervision now that ward is dead and rose fled with what little money she had left.

you both watch the news report on the edge of your seat, the anchor giving details on the recent murder in kildare. it’s a boy you went to school with, but haven’t spoken to since graduation. when the anchor begins to go over details of the murder, you click the tv off.

“hey!” wheezie argues, scrunching her brow as she looks at you, but you just shake your head. “you don’t need to be watching that kind of stuff, wheeze.”

you stand up to find rafe, eyes glancing around nervously, as if whoever murdered the boy could be lurking inside tanneyhill. you don’t realize that the murderer is just the man you want to see.

“rafe, oh my god!” you cry out when you round the corner to find him walking down the hallway. you fling your arms around his shoulders. he’s shocked for only a second before pulling you in, holding you by your waist as the words spill from your mouth, recounting the news to him.

“oh, that’s terrible.” he frowns, hand gliding up and down your back. “you better stay the night tonight, yeah?” he offers. it’s hours away from dark, but you certainly don’t want to venture home after hearing the news.

“yeah, if you don’t mind.” you feel your cheeks blush slightly, knowing you’ll end up sharing a bed with rafe as always.

“i never mind.” he smiles at you.

--

you wrap your arms around yourself as you watch the news report. the third murder in just under a month just took place last night. you lean against rafe, who presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“i can’t believe we knew all three people killed.” they weren’t particular gruesome deaths, most just a couple stabs with a sharp knife and leaving them to bleed out, there was no passion in the murder itself, no torturing or postmortem injuries.

“i know, it’s scary.” rafe is glad you can’t see the smile on his face. you already spent most nights anyways, but now you’re over more and more, only feeling safe when you have rafes arms around you. it makes it a little hard for him to slip away, but he finds the time.

“and not the fun kind of scary.” you pout. “although…” you trail off, almost like you didn’t mean to say it.

“although what?” rafe questions. 

you sit up a little straighter, wiping your hands on your pants. “it’s a little exciting, isn’t it?” you admit. “that makes me sick, doesn’t it?”

rafe shakes his head, pulling away slightly to see your big innocent eyes blinking up at him as you continue to explain. “obviously it’s terrible these people are dead but… god, it’s exhilarating!” your words switch to rambling as you finally get your feelings out. “like the thrill of knowing there’s someone out there killing people, it just makes me feel so alive! as long as i don’t get killed or anyone close to me-”

“i won’t kill you.” rafe says the words to stop your rambling, not even realizing his slip up. “i won’t let you get killed.” he quickly corrects himself.

“i know.” you look rafe up and down. he can tell when your face shifts into one of sheer concentration, mind slowly piecing the puzzle together. rafe needs to do something now before it all comes together.

he could scream or yell for wheezie or… rafe leans in and presses his lips against yours, mouths molding together. you hesitate for a moment before kissing back, much to rafes relief.

“i won’t let you get killed because i love you.” rafe says, hand cupping your jaw to bring you in for another kiss.

“oh, rafe.” you coo, smooching all across his face before landing on his lips again. “i love you too!”

--

it’s harder now that you’re moved in. you went from spending most nights in rafes bed to making tanneyhill your home as well, cuddling and kissing every night until you’re off to sleep.

he doesn’t need to kill as much now anyways, besides he’s got most of the boys from high school who looked at you a little too hard in your shorts for gym class, or said lude things about you when you weren’t around.

you’re well and truly his, but rafe can’t help himself. he loves the way you hide in his arms when a murder happens, how you kiss him deeply and tell him you love him so much, how you’re so glad that something good came out of something terrible and that you’re together now.

rafe waits until you’re fast asleep before slipping his arm out from under you. he grabs the knife from the back of his closet before heading out. he just needs someone. to stab and maim someone. it’s been months since the serial killers last appearance, and people are starting to relax again, including you, even asking if rafe minded if you went out with your girlfriends without him.

rafe does what he needs to do. he doesn’t enjoy the act itself, but he doesn’t dislike the feeling after either. he walks back into the house, knife bloody but wiped off on the victims own clothes as to not drip all over the house as he sneaks in.

his footsteps pause when he sees you standing there, robe wrapped around your shoulders. he knows you see it. he knows you know everything.

“baby, please don’t leave me i-”

“can i come with you next time?” 

“what?” your question shocks rafe, his voice raising before glancing up the stairs to make sure he didn’t wake wheezie.

“next time you kill someone. will you take me with you?” you ask, glancing at the knife, hating the rush you feel over your whole body when seeing it. it’s the last confirmation you needed for what you have been suspecting.

“i-baby, i don’t need to kill anymore. i’ll stop, it was just-”

“no.” you shake your head. “rafe, i don’t care. you can keep doing it. it’s… exciting.” you’re not ashamed this time when admitting it. you used to be worried about the murders but now you know there’s truly no need. rafe would never hurt you.

“okay.” he swallows, stepping closer, glad that you don’t turn away as you accept a kiss pressed to your lips. “okay, i’ll bring you next time.”

--

“shit, that was exciting!” you squeal, smiling as you turn to rafe. “seeing the life drain out of his eyes? and god, you were so hot when you stabbed him!”

“baby, you sound crazy.” rafe chuckles, easily gliding the car around the turns of the backroads, heading back towards home.

“rafe, you are a literal serial killer, i don’t think you should lecture me on sounding crazy.” you giggle, not even tired despite the late hour from all the adrenaline. “and god, you looked so hot stabbing that guy.”

you reach over and run your fingers down his forearm, remembering the way his muscles bulged and stretch when swinging the knife. your hand moves from rubbing his arm to his thigh, only pretending that your movements are innocent for a minute before you slide your hand up to his crotch, rubbing at his length, feeling it harden in his pants.

“baby-” rafe groans, eyes flicking between you, your hand, and the road in front of him illuminated by his headlights.

“just keep driving, it's okay.” you unbuckle so you can lean across the center console, lips pressing against his neck, tongue darting out to taste his skin.

you tug at the front of his sweatpants, rafe lifting his hips to assist you as the car engine roars. you grip his cock, teeth running over his jaw teasingly, never biting down as you stroke him eagerly, wanting to thank him for continuing his killing spree, for starting it for you and allowing you to take part.

“let me suck you off.” you gather your hair to one side, fucking your head until you're bent sideways. you hold rafes cock with one hand at his base while your lips sink down around the head, moaning at the familiar taste on your lips.

“fuck.” rafe swerves slightly, glad there's no one else on the road as you suck and lick at him, not caring that you're dripping spit down your chin from your movements.

“lemme pull over baby.” rafe says. he knows how much you like the excitement, the rare possibility someone could drive by, but he needs you hop0ing on his dick.

“fiiiine.” you say dramatically, going right back to sucking him off until rafe pulls on a dirt road. you work your shorts and panties off so the second the car is shifted into park, you swing your legs over to straddle rafe.

“shit, you're so wet.” rafe groans as you rub his cock through your folds.

“i told you.” you smirk at rafe. “you looked so hot killing that guy.”

you sink down before rafe can reply. 

the murders shift from rafe doing them in secret to make you rely on him, to force you closer, to something you do together, you often doing the planning while rafe finishes the task with violence.

you barely get back to the car before you jump on him, needing to feel his fingertips digging into your hips while he fucks ever, even if there are still specks of blood on him.

you know you won't get caught. no one would expect the former troubled teen turned happily domesticated man, raising his little sister after his father's death with his faithful girlfriend, to be the one behind the violence.

you see no reason to stop as rafe wipes his knife clean for what feels like the hundredth time.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @rafeyslove @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @vogueprincess @auryyz @mayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl @ditzyzombiesblog @chiaraanatra @tobiaslut

[wickjump]

ok ive been seeing too much romanticization of vampires lately n it’s kinda upsetting do you realize how fucking DIFFICULT it is every day??? like holy shit the one thing you can properly digest is LITERAL BLOOD?? like yeah we can eat other things but unless you’re trying to passively kill yourself you need the blood. and everyone and i mean EVERYONE goes “ohhh just eat the cattle blood! the cattle blood is good enough!!” yeah as a BRIEF SUBSTITUTE. that’s like eating cucumbers. you get the cravings gone but like ultimately you still have to fucken eat after like two weeks (also it’s gross). it tastes bitter (pigs taste the best imo they’re sorta savory but not something id eat every day if given a choice).

and THEN there’s the whole ass process of trying not to kill the poor bastard you get your claws on because DO YOU FUCKING KNOW HOW DANGEROUS IT IS TO PIERCE AN ARTERY. you have to hit a vein but not the artery which is a pain in the ass when you feel like you’re starving and can’t focus easily!!!!! and then you have to either kidnap your dinner, seduce them (not my thing), or if you’re experienced enough MAYBE you can alter their memories IF YOURE EXPERIENCED IN IT (which im not, ive only been around since like the seventh century, i haven’t had enough time)

and you can’t even bet on the other humans to not believe them because there’s a wound as proof!!! and your fangs can help scab the wound over but it’s still there and it’ll still scar. idk if it’s different in this century but i don’t want a pitchfork up my ass again. media portrays vampirism as something soooo easy but it’s not!!! “just kill the guy” ???? YOU REALIZE I HAVE MORALS RIGHT??? STOP ENFORCING STEREOTYPES??? i don’t want people to die?? im just hungry man. if you’re lucky you have a resident that offers their blood in exchange for a place to live but i don’t exactly have a castle like the count.

[undercovercameron]

a domesticated rafe cameron

summary: a bf headcanon for sir rafe m.f. cameron

notes: *NSFW NEAR THE END* i have been seeing so many headcanons for rafe as a bf recently and i used to do these all the time for other fandoms and people and holy fuck i miss and love them.. allow me to indulge myself. also a lot of these are not simply him being touchy or super cute positive ones bc he’s canonically a murderer and drug addict and felon sooo akdjdjd we all of course romanticize him but i just thought i’d say that. lemme know what you think !

tags: rafe cameron x reader

i think rafe is a very complicated kind of lover

he’s a complex ass dude as it is, so that obviously reflects in your relationships

your relationship probably started unconventionally, either because of a fuck up or drunken mistake or maybe even meeting him randomly on a golf course or on the beach and just immediately being drawn to each other

he wants someone that challenges him a Little bit but really just wants someone to go with the flow and let him take the lead

he already gets enough direction and bossy shit from his family

(probably a couple arguments have sparked because of that; he sees too much of rose or ward in you. it’s also something that draws him to you, though, so take it with a grain of salt)

on the topic of arguments, you two are no stranger to them

he always ends up apologizing though, even if you started it—he’d just much rather have your mouth on his than have it yelling at him and knows there’s always a way to get you back on his side

he’s a proud man, so his apologies are usually in the form of him complimenting you or giving entirely hypothetical situations in which he Possibly Might Be Sorry

you take it because it’s probably the best you’re gonna get

he shows his love and affection in a little different ways that other people you’ve dated

of course he’s no stranger to PDA

in fact it only puffs his chest that you want to be seen with him and touch him

he’ll never admit it, but he loves when you kiss his face

like duh,

but not just his lips, he really likes when you kiss him on the temple or just press your face to his cheek or peck at his jaw

he also likes when you hold onto his belt when getting his attention or trying to move him

a lot of your dates involve watching a movie or TV show, because truth be told he is a home body

maybe not his home, but def a home body

your house is a reminder that he is apart of your life; he sees the pictures, the movie tickets, his favorite chips (salt and vinegar, ew i know), or spares of toothbrushes and his clothes in your closet

in any social situation he is either looking at you, thinking of looking at you, touching you, or asking people where you are

he cannot stand to make small talk without his emotional support girlfriend at his side

you’re just so much funnier than all these other people

he prides himself on his ability to make you blush, and does it any chance he gets

he doesn’t really get to laugh a lot, as he is either in distress or about to get punched or reprimanded, so you’re always whispering some joke into his ear to get him to laugh. your success rate is much better than anyone else’s in his life

he knew he loved you when you grabbed his hand during a dinner you were at and some politician walked in with a very apparent and badly concealed nose job. you just mouth “oh my god” and he had to snort to cover up his laugh

you were also all dolled up and cute and sexy that night so that may have had something to do with him knowing he loved you

he is also a great communicator

it’s not in his nature to hide his feelings because they’re so fucking obvious on that expressive face of his

and he never knew he could have so much fun texting until you came along

now he’s a regular emoticon user

weird, right?

now onto spicy things,

you’ve never known a partner to ask you how you feel more than Rafe

it’s a praise thing, you think

he wants to hear that he feels good, that right there, that he fucks you so good, that he’s perfect for you

the nonverbal sign that all those are true is when you throw your head back and a gasp is caught in your throat

the very idea that your breath is stolen every time he does something good makes his heart skip a beat

his cheeks get very red while you’re having sex, so your cool fingers are usually petting them or pressed near them

you have a thing for his legs

i mean come on

he just walks around like that all day

he walks around with a dick like that in his pants all day, and you’re supposed to just ignore it?!

absolutely not

you especially like when he wears those hoochie daddy 5 inch inseam swim trunks, because you get to see where his skin gets a little paler and softer and it makes you get goosebumps at the thought of where it leads

those trunks are a treat usually, saved for a special occasion where he doesn’t have to be around his family and he can have you in his lap, hand trapped between your legs

let’s just say you two fuck like rabbits

two beautiful young adults, what else occupies your time?

it gets a little annoying for other people when you’re apart of their dinner party, because you’re always late, but then learn to just deal with it

it’s better to not have a sexually frustrated rafe cameron that accidentally stabs through his plate of rice and vegetables like that one time at the island club with your parents when you licked up a drop of lemon sauce from your chin and his eyes nearly bulged out of his head

decidedly not a great time or place to act like that

anyways,

i just think while yours’ and rafe’s relationship def has its ups and downs like all other relationships, your recovery period after an argument is remarkably high

you both know you’re not mad anymore, so it’s not worth it to be bad communicators and make it worse

at the end of the day, there’s always space for you in his bed, and he always welcomes you with a slap on the ass and a whisper of “we’re totally fucking in the shower tomorrow”

(and yes. you do)

notes: i hope this doesn’t seem to scatterbrained, i may or may not end up adjusting or editing this later to be closer to what i think would be him

[thrashkink-coven]

We all know that tiktok has terrible spiritual advice but the worst one by far that I see so often, disturbingly often, is the:

“10 signs you’re experiencing a spiritual enlightenment!

1: You start seeing shadow people!”

Because holy shit… No. that’s not how this works. Seeing shadow people should be a warning sign of spiritual psychosis (or visual impairment, get your eyes checked y’all)

I hate this one because I remember when I believed this I was actually trying to see shadow people. And of course I did because I was convincing myself I should be. Seeing shadow people does not mean you’ve unlocked the ability to “see passed the veil” or whatever. The veil is there for your protection, it’s a very good thing that we’re lucky to have. Seeing passed it is not something that just starts happening randomly the moment you reach some hypothetical “enlightenment”.

There are some cultural spiritual beliefs about shadow people that have legitimate basis, but every time I see it spoken of online it’s always romanticized. Seeing shadows people is not any sort of indication of your spiritual enlightenment. If anything, it’s a sign to do some banishment and check up on your mental health. People who peddle this are usually preying on those with dissociative disorders or hallucinations, or are experiencing these things themselves without realizing it.

If I were to give an actual indication of enlightenment, it would be noticing the profound interconnectness of life on this planet. Having empathy for people you previously didn’t understand. Realizing how your perspective informs your beliefs, that’s true enlightenment. Seeing shadow people, ghosts, ghouls, goblins, is not.

[hana-no-seiiki]

HELLO??? WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THIS MASTERPIECE??? especially the last line holy shit im scared yet excited at the same time 😬😬

YANDERE! AQUAMARINE HOSHINO x REINCARNATED! READER x YANDERE! RUBY

Guess I gotta do a full fic about it huh. Here we go. Link to previous part in the ask!

tw/cw: yandere themes, gaslight tactics courtesy of aqua, girlkeep tactics courtesy of ruby, girlboss [y/n]. mentions of suicide. reader is gn but gets described as beautiful.

is this really a yandere fic when both the twins are canonically insane tho-

IT WAS SAID THAT DURING THE NIGHT OF YOUR BIRTH THE SUN WAS AT ITS HIGHEST POINT AND FULLEST BLOOM.

Its rays buried humanity under a blanket of heat and devastation. Fortunetellers would wax on and on of the disasters you would soon bring upon the world.

That was your experience in your first life.

Many could only wish of being born to a worldwide pop-star, but to you it was a reality. You resented those that vied for your place. How could they romanticize such a life when every single day was torture for you. Some predicted you to be world-class singer before your first cry. People knew you before you could even speak to them. Everyone already idolized you, expected you to do great things before you’d even learn the alphabet.

The pressure had already been insurmountable the moment you took your first breath.

Your second life was terrifying to say the least. It didn’t matter that way you died before, just the thought of experiencing the same motions again frightened you to your bones.

And so you pretended. A shining star to a dim moon that barely reflected any light. Ever so meticulously making sure none knew of your so called genius. The last thing you wanted was to be labeled a prodigy even with the more lax nature of your new family.

But art will always call to you, a sunflower drawn to its source of energy.

You kept everything as lowkey as you could, reconnected with contacts you knew would keep their mouth shut, and even kept your identity away from prying eyes.

To the world you were just this masked musician that was oddly reminiscent of their previous luminescence.

You were satisfied with that life. Fame wasn’t something you agonized about or wished for. But now that veil had been taken away, it’s as if everything was crashing down yet again. Emails, messages and articles about your success as a young star was beginning to show its true weight. Stress began accumulating further and further as you had distanced yourself from your family and threw yourself to work as a distraction.

On one such ‘productive’ night, you were met with a face you didn’t expect.

“Aqua-niisama! Nice seeing you here. Thought you would be staying at that director’s place for the night—“

“Why didn’t you tell me? Didn’t you promise to tell me everything? Don’t you trust me?”

Aquamarine had this knack of being utterly terrifying without meaning to. He had the talent to frighten at a glance. His beautiful sea-like eyes turn dull, murky. Capturing all the light, and drowning you in the same pressure your old family would throw you under repeatedly.

With his arms caging you between his form and the wall, you knew there was no escaping this. So in spite of the crippling anxiety, you gulp it do

“I wasn’t confident enough with my skills. Your mom is the Ai Hoshino and Ruby is so talented I—“

He lowered his face, nestled it right beside yours. You could swear he was breathing in your scent. “You looked anything but ‘not confident’ up on the stage.”

“Liar.” His hands then moved from the wall to encircle themselves around your body; his face to your the top of your head and nose between your hair. Yet even in this tight embrace you still felt chills down your spine. “I scare you don’t I? You were worried that I would stop you like I did with her.”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry. I’m a terrible brother.”

“No, I understand you. You just wanted to keep her safe and I—“

“Not for that.” He pushed himself away for a couple of moments, and for that short amount of time you were ashamed to say that you felt utterly relieved until— “This.”

— he kissed you.

You’ve seen Aqua kiss Akane before. Both on and out of camera. You respected their relationship despite knowing of how unhealthy it truly is. They’d eventually break up and things would go smoothly you thought.

Pfft, as if. You knew shit would hit the fan. You were just too much of a coward to get in his way. Akane could suffer for all you care, she chose to date your psychopath of an adoptive brother anyways.

But you didn’t expect him to fall for you.

He never seem interested. Despite your mother telling you time and time again that Aqua cared deeply about you, you just couldn’t see it.

He was the deep, dark ocean. You were at the highest point of the sky, sailing across the cosmic sea. There was no way you two could meet eye to eye much less love normally.

You did the only thing your body could muster at the moment and slapped him.

“You’re right. You are a horrid brother.”

As you ran away, sobbing, Aqua couldn’t help but feel aroused.

Oh, how charming you looked with tears streaking down your cheeks.

It felt like hours when you first started crying nonstop. You never cried in your original life. You had no time or energy to. You never expected that your second, mundane life would be the one that shattered you.

And shattered you it did. You felt sorry for the future you who had to wash off all the tears and snot on your pillows and bedsheets, but it had to be done. You knew if you didn’t let it all out that day it’d happen sooner or later at a more inconvenient time.

Aqua only entered once to leave a tissue box and water bottle before he left. The sounds of typing outside of your room never ceased however, indicating he never actually went too far.

Ruby arrived far earlier than you expected as well. Her schedule that day should have had her busy til midnight but you had the feeling Aqua told her what he’d done.

“Ruby-nee—“

“Ssshhh…” Ruby silenced you with a kiss to the forehead.

“Why would he do that— he - he has a girlfriend.” You stuttered and hiccuped throughout your speech, still crying as hard as you did back then.

“Do you really think he loves her?”

“No.”

“But that isn’t what you’re worried about isn’t it?”

Ruby brought you up to her shoulder, massaging your back in a circular motion. “Trust me, nothing will change. He loves you very much. We both love you. I’m just sorry we didn’t make you feel comfortable enough to share your passion with us. You’re amazing [Y/N] in every shape, way or form. You don’t have to be the brightest to the world, you have no obligation to.”

“To us you’re already perfect.”

You never knew she had the capability to be this comforting in a mature sort of way. She always radiated a loud vibration; refreshing most of the time, though it did get tiring.

Never have you been afforded this kind of consolation. It was always you against the world. Being reminded that there are other stars in the sky beside you gave you a strange sense of solace. An odd variety of relief borne out of being insignificant in the sky.

“This incident just means he loves you in a different way alright?”

“But what about Aka-neesama?”

“I’ll talk to him about it.”

“You should thank me. I left them all vulnerable for you.” Aqua spoke, his right hand quickly moved across his laptop’s keyboard and his left held a can of Monster.

“You felt it too didn’t you?” Ruby exhaled. It took a while to get you to lull you into sleep; a necessary step to have the conversation she was partaking in.

“Yeah. . . I did.” Aqua took a sip from his drink, his starry eyes laser focused on the recording of your performance. He had set up several fan accounts and gotten footage from all sorts of angles. He couldn’t wait for your next stage. May it be from sheer excitement or the caffeine in his blood, but the man was absolutely shaking all over over in anticipation. “We have a second chance, don’t mess things up.”

“I should be saying that to you. Break up with Akane by next week. And be careful with how forward you are with your feelings.”

“Already done.” Aqua held up his phone without breaking moving his head at all, in his phone were a few texts between him and a panicking Akane. “and no promises”

Ruby sighed one last time that night, leaning her head back to your bedroom door. “. . . You were right.”

“Hm?”

Both of her eye’s stars hard turn tar black, a blush covered her cheeks.

“[Y/N] does look enticing when they cry.”

[mccn-bcys]

JUST A TOUCH OF YOUR HAND pt. 3

pairing: moonboys x fem!reader

summary: jake finally makes his debut to ask the reader a question the boys have been dying to ask. reader gives her answer and jake is just a cutie.

warning: jake (he's a warning, yes), just some nice fluff for ya.

authors note: okay ik a lot of you have been wanting this chapter for a long time (sorry about the long wait, I had a lot going on the past couple of months). this chapter isn't as long as the others but it just felt right to have this one be short and sweet. the next chapter, maybe we'll see some more of marc 😏🤭

word count: 1,028

and then there was jake. it was funny actually. he'd been dreaming of meeting his soulmate since he had gotten the stain. and he had so badly wanted to meet you when you first brushed against their hand on the sidewalk that day.

god how he wanted to meet you. and yet he couldn't make himself front. even when steven or marc would hand it over to him, especially when you'd plan days to meet and spend with him, he just couldn't front.

none of them understood it. it's like he'd freeze up. it was eating him up. he was pretty sure he was in love with you – actually he was positive he was in love with you. and he'd never even actually met you!

you, being the amazing person you were, were so patient with him. whenever you'd see the boys on the days you were going to meet jake, and find out he wasn't fronting, you'd have marc or steven tell him you didn't mind waiting.

"you boys are all worth waiting for," you'd say, making them melt.

and jake would try more to front around you and it just wouldn't happen. he couldn't figure out why. although on a deeper level, he knew why.

he supposed he wasn't much different than marc. as much of a hopeless romantic as he was, he also knew his reputation. it was said reputation that caused him to romanticize the thought of a soulmate. he never really thought himself capable of being loved. if marc thought his hands were stained with blood, jake was swimming in it.

if he was realistic, he couldn't imagine why you would love him. he was ruthless, he could be cold, he had a tendency to shut people out if they got too close.

But he wanted you to get too close. He wanted to able to talk to you, learn about you and not through the other two. He wanted to hold you and comfort you, and be held and be comforted by you.

but like marc, he'd been scared. scared you'd run for it, if you knew him. everyone else did.

and yet here you were: sitting across the table, smiling so wide, eyes so patient, like he's your favorite person in the world. if you kept going, he's sure he would probably cry.

"jake?" you called cautiously, breaking him from his thoughts. his eyes snap to yours, smiling at you. he thinks: 'they're right...the way she says our names is addicting.'

"sí, amor?" he answers softly, but you seem to brighten up even more.

"yes," you simply said.

his eyebrows furrow. had he asked a question?

yes, you did, you bloody idiot!

holy shit...she actually said yes...

"yes?" he repeated, since his alters weren't helping him at all.

you laughed at that, at him seemingly forgetting his own question. he loved that sound.

"you asked me to move in," you reminded him patiently.

"and you said yes?"

"I did."

"but you don't know me," he tries to reason, because how on earth would you have agreed to move in with the mess of these three men?

"I know that i love marc and steven, and if I love them, i already love you too," were you trying to kill him?

"why?"

that threw you for a loop. you hadn't been expecting it. why did you love this man you've never actually met?

"well...for starters, we're soulmates-"

"that doesn't mean that I'm not a terrible person." steven had warned you of this. that he might try to talk of himself like this.

"but you're not-"

"you don't know that."

"except that I do."

"how could you possibly know that?"

"because I just do-"

"amor, that's not an answ-"

"I know because you're a weirdo who wears gloves while he drives a limo. You send a bouquet of my favorite flowers every time you can't front when we planned. I know because I can feel you follow me home every night after work when you're patrolling, making sure I get home safe. I know because marc's told me that you can't pass a cat without petting it. I know because I *know.* You're a *good man,* jake," you say, looking at him completely serious.

and for the first time in a long time, every voice in his head is silent. they're at a loss for words. there's this strange feeling in jake's heart and he's never felt it before.

what is that, he thinks.

that's love, jake.

it feels like a heart attack.

yeah...it's great, innit?

you watch him closely while he's silent, watching to see if you've overstepped somehow. to try and see what he's feeling. amd when he stands, you're worried he's leaving. that he's going to change his mind about wanting you to move in.

but he quickly crosses over to you and he cups your face, gentle as he is urgent, and leans down and kisses you, deeply, passionately. and for a moment, you're confused. but you quickly kiss him back, matching his energy, his passion. after a moment, he pulls away, both of you panting lightly, breathless from the kiss. he presses his forehead to yours, looking into your eyes so intensely you swear he can see your soul.

"te amo jodidamente mucho," he says, voice barely above a whisper.

"I love you too," you say back softly, meaning every word.

jake has feel that twist in his heart again, but he knows what it is now. it's love. and it's strange and foreign but...he thinks he likes it. he feels like he's never smiled so wide in his life. he presses one more soft kiss to your lips before moving back to his seat at the table.

"so...tell me about these gloves you bought me," he grins.

and you start talking about them, explaining every detail about them and why you thought he'd like them. he swears he's never smiled so dopey in his life, talking to you about anything and everything you wanted to talk about. he'd finally fronted and he'll be damned if he doesn't take advantage of every single second he gets with you.

______________________________________________________________

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[rius-cave]

Piggybacking off that one person with the, "Adam as a hopeless romantic jaded by failed marriages," ask, I had an immediate thought. So we're at a later point in the relationship, Adam's starting to feel comfortable, the romantic in him is slipping out... and he creates the most beautiful flowerbed of Lucifer's favorite flowers... in the shape of a duck.

Lucifer is overjoyed, but being himself, can't help but say something stupid.

Lucifer: "Holy shit, it's fantastic? Where was this when you were with the girls?" Adam: "Lilith didn't like this kinda shit, and Eve was so crushed by the guilt of what she let you two do and how that got us kicked out of Eden that she never let herself enjoy it. Lucifer: *Pained sounds of a rubber duck with broken squeaker*

AUGHH,,, OKAY BUT LILITH KIND OF DOESN'T STRIKE ME AS A ROMANTIC ACTUALLY (again, saying this based on zero canon personality lol). Like I think she probably shows AFFECTION a lot, in the form of words and touch, but she's not ROMANTIC, y'know? She's not invested in little details like that. At least, she doesn't do them herself, she's mostly on the receiving end of gifts like this. Lucifer is definitely the romantic of the two.

So thinking Adam could be a romantic, hmmmm....... It's a bit of a stretch, so you'd have to say it's really, REAAAAAAAALLY repressed. Maybe he wouldn't do such showy displays of romanticism, but he's romantic in the way that he will go out of his way to do things for the people he cares about through long-term actions. The best part is that he doesn't consider this romantic in the first place, for him it's whatever, it was just a thing he did, meanwhile whoever is on the receiving end is flabbergasted that Adam would do something like that for them, without wanting anything in return.

[mikareo]

⌗ RENAISSANCE ₊ ˖ ་. rin itoshi x fem reader (2.1k)

⊹ ⠀⠀ he's never been one to appreciate art, but you've given him a new set of eyes— the love he feels for you is overwhelming, and he hopes it lasts forever. (bonus for rationalism and romanticism; necessary to read first!)

contains; colorblind!rin, painter!reader, rin’s mom is reader’s art mentor, swearing, immense fluff, kissing, sae and rin actually have a good relationship, extremely inaccurate depictions of colorblindness author's note; bonus ending for rationalism/romanticism!

This is a fancy-ass venue. 

Rin can’t help but feel underdressed for the occasion, despite being clad in a fitted white button up and black tie, whilst his dress-shoes cramp his feet in the worst ways imaginable. He almost looks like that one moviestar in the romantic comedy you love so much. Was it the one with the rich guy in Singapore or the one where they worked in an office and he was a businessman? Rin can’t remember. Whatever, it doesn’t really matter either way. He’s distracting himself too much, he needs to focus— tonight is one of the most important nights of your career. No, it is the most important night for your future career. His mother contacted every big art distributor and critic that she has professional relationships with. It’s your night…and wow did you kill it. 

It’s almost as if you’ve plastered yourself across the walls. Every art piece that his eyes roll over is exceptionally you - your personality, your passions, and your heart - and it’s obvious you’ve spent months curating the most perfect array of paintings a person could muster. 

He can read your story like an open book while he slowly makes his way through the gallery. There are paintings depicting your childhood, ones that remind him of the stories you tell him of your primary school drama and premature interests. That one must be when you broke your arm while learning to ride your bike. You’re particularly stuck on that story— strongly stating how upset you were because it was your dominant arm, halting your ability to paint for seven weeks. Referencing your painting passion, there’s a whole array of canvases dedicated to your love for art; beginning with inspirations of immaturity to skillful selections of texture techniques. Rin is obviously no art critic, but if he were, he’d write a whole expose on how amazing you are. 

With his mind so engaged with your talent, he’s oblivious to the people passing by; so oblivious that he doesn’t even notice his own family approaching. 

“She’s talented isn’t she?” 

Holy shit. The familiar voice of his mother startles Rin, but he instinctively wraps a loose arm around her waist and greets her with a grin. She returns the affectionate expression and it’s painfully obvious that he got his smile from her, and even more painfully obvious that they’re all related when Sae walks up with his teeth beaming. Long lashes and a toothy grin, the physical brand of the Itoshi family; famous in not only football, but good looks!

“Y’know I always knew she had an innate ability.” Miss Itoshi has a faint smile on her face, gazing at her youngest son with nothing but pure happiness. It’s a true display of a mother’s love for her youngest son, and Rin doesn’t know what he’d do without her guidance. She squeezes his side and presses a gentle kiss to his cheek. God, he’d be so embarrassed if his teammates saw this. “Though, I always thought she specialized in artwork.”

Hm? Rin sends a puzzled glance in her direction. What is she going on about?

His mom continues, knowing her son well enough that he needs a clear explanation in order to understand anything at all, and presses her hand against his chest. “I didn’t realize she was so skilled at touching hearts.”

His heart is beating faster at the mere thought of your beauty.

There are tears behind Miss Itoshi’s eyes and Rin can feel the waterworks attempting to break his own dam. They’re an emotional duo, him and his mom, Sae gets tired of their antics sometimes— but Rin knows he loves them. Their mom always knows the right thing to say. “I never thought I’d see you like this, Rin.”

Sae smirks, nodding in agreement. “You seem so at ease. It’s cute.”

Reflexively, he pulls them both into a big hug— which is the first hug he’s given Sae since he was nothing but a young boy, six years old and playing soccer for the very first time. Rin finally understands what it means to love and be loved, all because of you; and now he can apply that same love to his older brother, who was his rival for so long. The overwhelming comfort he feels in his family’s arms is the same warmth he felt when he made his first goal and ran into his mother to celebrate his newfound passion. For a long time, Rin believed that it was only possible to have that one singular passion. Oh how wrong he was.

“I get it now.” he says softly into their ears. “She helped me understand.”

“And we’re happy for you,” Sae pats him on the back as hard as he can, eliciting a threatening glare from his younger sibling, to which their mother laughs. 

“Check out the centerpieces down the hall.” Miss Itoshi nudges Rin on, standing beside Sae. “I think you’ll love them, sweetheart.”

With their encouragement, he carries on with the gallery and down the straight hallway of evolving paintings. Every step he takes, seems to carry him into a new era of your life. It’s almost as if he’s time traveling through memories that seemingly morph from abstract to realistic art; and he learns more and more about you with each passing second, ultimately leading towards one large painting in the center of the room. 

Holy shit. You’re breathtaking. 

Never in Rin’s life has his world stopped due to paint on canvas— but right now, it feels like every single brush stroke is a frozen second that he gets to relive again and again, just basking in the presence of your beautiful skill.

The way you’ve outlined your hair with thin lines and highlighted your lovely cheekbones, is nothing short of masterful. If he looks close enough, he can understand the comforting feeling of cupping your face with just his eyes. He didn’t even know you did self-portraits, but now he wishes he could hang this very one right above his couch; to show off the talent of his amazing girlfriend for everyone to see (not that he actually has many friends other than his teammates).

Where are you? He needs to let you know how special it is to be with someone like you—

“Cat got your tongue?”

Speak of the devil.

“Do you like it?” You raise your eyebrows at him expectantly. “What do you think?”

You said the same thing when you first met.

Rin looks between you and the painting, now realizing that no matter how masterful your skill is, it’s impossible to capture just how gorgeous you are in any form of art. You’re simply exquisite. The most talented painter in the world wouldn’t know how to appreciate your beauty. Davinci? No. Botticelli? No. Di Angelo? Not even he could sculpt your features to perfection. However, despite his high standards, Rin believes that your self portrait is the greatest thing he’s ever seen. 

The familiar feeling of flusteredness grows on his cheeks as he holds eye-contact with you, wondering what color it is you’re wearing. He bets it’s red, you always wear red around him. “I love it.”

As your right hand finds his palm, the left reaches up and cups his cheek. With a gentle touch, your lips are on his and Rin feels his head take a spin on the merry-go-round of love. He can’t get enough of you. If he had a choice, he’d spend every waking second of his day peppering you in light kisses on every part of your body— and he’d make sure that you never felt loneliness again. You deserve nothing less than the absolute best, and he’s made it his life’s goal to give that to you.

Slowly, he begins to feel your smile against his lips and you pull away with a lovesick gaze. He pulls you into his chest, cradling your head and kissing it softly before whispering how proud he is, and it’s almost unbelievable how far Rin’s come. Somehow you’ve lured him into a bottomless ravine where the only resource to live is to be hopelessly in love with you— and truthfully, he never wants to escape. You're everything to him.

“You love it?” your eyes are shining brighter than the sun. “You haven’t even seen my best work yet.”

“Oh?’ Rin raises his brows, mocking surprise at your statement. “Well now you have to show me. It’s only fair.”

You place your hands on his chest and peck his lips before spinning him around. He’s confused for a moment, wondering what you’re doing when you could’ve just led him to the canvas instead of guiding him around like it’s a dance class…but then he sees it.

He sees himself.

Never in his life has he completely understood what being in love is. Yes, he's felt love. From his mother, who raised him to be the man he is; caring, thoughtful, and compassionate. From his brother, who helped him understand ambition and sacrifice. From his teammates, who challenge him to be the best he possibly can and to support one another without holding grudges. He's felt different types of love from so many people in his life. Familial. Platonic. Admiration. This is different, though. The love you show him is true love. It's the kind of love that movie stars win awards for portraying. It's the fantasy that kids dream about having when they grow up into big adults. It's the thing he thought was impossible to obtain, but was lucky enough to stumble upon you in that empty art studio on the best day of his life.

He didn't know love could be expressed in this kind of way. Through the very same paint strokes and brush marks that used to make him nauseous with hatred. Seeing your masterpiece, he doesn't understand how he could ever hate something so amazing. Art is spectacular. No. Your art is spectacular. You are spectacular.

"You love it right?" You're trying your best not to giggle at his awestruck reaction. "Want to know the best part?"

Rin can feel himself nodding, desperately reaching for your hand in an attempt to ground himself from the air he's walking on— and you begin to explain. "It's a dual piece. Notice how we're facing each other?"

Oh my god, you are facing each other. He hadn't noticed it before, but he can see clearly now. You've placed him in the dead center of the room, giving him a full view of both of the paintings— opposite of one another on two opposing easels. "Tell me more, baby." His voice is nothing louder than a whisper, only for you to hear.

"I'm painted in black and white."

Oh?

"You're painted in color."

...Oh.

"I wanted to show how love knows no bounds. There's beauty in how you see me and how I see you. It doesn't matter that I'm colorless to you, you still look at me like I'm the prettiest girl in the world; and I only wish you could understand how vibrant your eyes are, Rin. You're the most handsome man I've seen in my entire life."

He loves you.

He loves you so, so much.

A part of his heart feels like he's falling in love with you all over again. It's growing larger and larger, unable to contain the capacity of feelings he holds for you. He's so overwhelmed with joy that tears begin to fight to escape his eyes, ultimately dripping down his cheeks like watercolor on paper, and he sweeps you into the tightest hug known to man.

There's really only one thing left to do. One thing to close this chapter and carry on with the rest of your love story, something that's sacred only between the two of you. Something that he hopes to say to you everyday, every night, every hour, and every minute that he can.

"I love you."

this is the end of this series! every part was such a joy to write and i'm so thankful for all of the feedback i've been given. more fics coming soon love y'all &lt;3

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⊹₊｡ reblogs are greatly appreciated! ˚₊⊹

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

How would Death Note go if, everything was the same, except the way that Misa and Light got their notebooks was reversed? So Misa just found hers randomly and Ryuk is her Shinigami. But Light was saved by a Shinigami who was in love with him and gained both their book and their lifespan. And Rem. (Don't ask me why the Shinigami was in love with Light lol)

For the sake of this ask, maybe pretend that Misa doesn't get killed in an alley.

Caveat

I mean, in Light's Kira glory days, the Shinigami in general are all interested in what's happening with him and I can easily imagine one or two becoming enamored with this insane human who's giving them the entertainment of their lives.

Before then, well, Gelus clearly romanticized Misa as he watched her and saw her as a tragic figure in need of saving. She was young, beautiful, had a tragic past with the death of her parents, and he couldn't stand the thought of watching her die at such a young age because of this stalker.

The point being that he only knew of Misa from a distance and liked what he could see looking through a window. Now, Light doesn't have the tragic backstory to attract Gelus's interest, he had a great life before canon started with a family that loved him and a bright future ahead of him, but in theory Gelus could have become fascinated with this seemingly perfect young man who's dying of boredom on the inside and want to save him from his untimely death at the hands of a mugger.

So, sure, why not.

Misa Meets a Death God

Misa picks up the notebook and thinks it has a nice asthetic, Misa being very into gothic lolita, and that while morbid humor is the sort of thing she could have as a prop in her bedroom. Fits right in.

I imagine she doesn't think much about it, doesn't believe it, and that's when Ryuk gets bored actually. The thing with Light was that he waited a bit to see what the person who picked up the notebook would do and that he'd planned to keep dropping it around until someone interesting picked it up.

Ryuk felt thrilled when Light picked it up on the first try and went fucking insane with the death count. Ryuk settled happily in for the ride of his life, watching as Light murdered people in interesting ways and tried to murder that detective.

If Misa's not doing anything, and she's likely not, then Ryuk will take it back from her and try again until he gets someone who is interesting. Even if Misa accidentally killed a person, I don't think she'd have the will or interest to be Kira without Light's prior example. What Light did requires... well... being Light. Misa could become the second Kira because she already idolized Light and he'd made it, in a weird way, culturally acceptable. I imagine Misa might kill the man who'd killed her parents but that would be the end of it.

I imagine Ryuk would end up with a mobster eventually and be very entertained as it's used for inter-gang assassinations. But hold that thought.

Light Meets a Death God

Light, I imagine very shaken from nearly dying, walks away from the incident not sure how to feel then holy shit a god of death has come for him. He panics even harder than he did in canon with Ryuk until Rem explains that Light was saved by a Shinigami that was in love with him and here is his new murder notebook.

Now, the thing about canon, is that Light started in as Kira because a) he at first didn't believe it then killed a man and went "my god" b) he thought he was going to be taken to the underworld so started in killing as many people as he could before Ryuk met up with him. Light had about a day to talk himself into this where he goes from "oh my god I just killed someone" to "only I can kill fucking everyone!". Here, the circumstances are different, he hasn't killed anyone and he doesn't have the motivation to make the most of the notebook before a Shinigami comes for him as Rem is pointedly giving it to him.

I imagine Light mulls over it for a bit, a god literally died for him and gave him this as a gift, how should he use it if at all. I imagine his first instinct, as in canon initially, is not to use it/not to want to be a murderer. Then, however, I imagine he thinks of all the people he believes the world would be better without, a world in which he can get rid of violent crime entirely as an unseen god, and thinks about what the Shinigami saved him from.

Had it not been for Gelus, Light would have died, because a human wanted to stab him.

Then Light's back on the "only I can do this!" murder bus and Rem is... not entirely thrilled with any of this (while Rem pointedly never liked Light I do think it was more than just how dismissive he was of Misa but also that Light was casually making use of the notebook for such extremes).

I imagine Rem sticks around, as Gelus died for this motherfucker, but she doesn't like it.

Canon then proceeds pretty much the same except that L and Light end up in this stalemate in college as Misa doesn't have a Death Note to rock the boat. L can't get any real evidence on Light at all, his attempts to rattle him reveal nothing, and Light in turn can't get L's name and Rem refuses to tell it to him out of principle.

Except, at some point, I imagine Ryuk gets jealous. Why does Rem get this batshit insane human and he keeps having to drop the notebook all over the place? I imagine Ryuk asks Rem to trade, he'll give the kid his notebook, Rem can take Gelus's, and they'll switch so Rem can be with the kind of boring humans she likes and Ryuk can stick with this kid.

Rem of course refuses, as does Light who suspects Ryuk and knows how to bully Rem into doing mostly what he wants, and so I imagine a miffed Ryuk makes things hard for Light/more interesting. I imagine he starts killing people in a way so as to provide L 'evidence' so as to be able to get firmer suspicions of Kira.

A man dies shouting at Light that he's the devil then douses himself in gasoline then lights himself on fire. Another person dies doing the same thing but they throw themselves into a woodchipper.

(L hates that he can't use any of this as evidence not just simply because the entire world's gone mad about Kira anyway but also because these fuckers keep killing themselves before L can ask questions.)

I imagine Light, at his wit's end, agrees to trade with Ryuk but only if Ryuk tells Light L's name. "That's cheating" - Ryuk says as he did in canon (also, Ryuk is having a great time inconveniencing Light).

Death Note becomes a weird thriller comedy in which L is hunting Kira, but The Happening is going on, and Light is trying to find a way to manage Ryuk, Rem, and L all at the same time while also planning L's murder in a way that it makes it look like L just caught The Happening.

[clearancecreedwatersurvival]

OKay so having learned that there are people dedicating their tumblr time to whinging about how spop is ‘romanticizing abuse’, I have some things to say.

For The Record, spop is a story about ending cycles of abuse and overcoming indoctrination from christofash evangelical holy war shit. I’m sorry, but do you expect a story about These Topics to not actually show anything related to it?

I have said it before but I’ll say it again, simply portraying a topic in fiction is not Romanticizing it. You cannot write a story that is deconstructing a thing without Including The Thing.

It is worthwhile to talk about how sometimes, especially in film, a story that discusses some topic will do so in a way that objectifies the act of whatever it is. Such as when a movie that is about rape culture or a rape revenge narrative or whatever, gets a little too objectifying and voyeuristic in the framing of events. That’s good critique and useful to talk about to unpack the societal underpinnings.

But assuming that the mere presence of something within a story means that the thing is being romanticized is just always the worst take, and I see it pop up So Often on tumblr.

As another example, it is useful to critique the way adaptations of Lolita miss the point of Lolita and portray the unreliable narrator’s bullshit editorializing on the events as reality. But if you think that the actual text of the original book is actually excusing the narrator then you straight up do not understand the book. There are like six video essays on YouTube by different people explaining exactly this already, please just go watch them if you don’t know what I’m talking about.

So once more. Spop is a story about overcoming indoctrination from christofash fundamentalist holy war death cult shit, and ending cycles of abuse. These are heavy topics. But I think Spop handled them fucking beautifully and if you don’t then congrats I have to assume you’ve never had family or community members who were lost in the fundie sauce and I’m happy for you.

[dallasgallant]

Ok so it’s @your-unfriendlyghost w/ that goddamn Ao3 comment 🥲

For whatever reason, Ao3 keeps sayin that “We can’t upload your comment because the content is blank” when it like. CLEARLY ISN’T. I dunno what’s going on with that, so I’ll just paste it here 😭

(This is the comment I woulda commented on chapter 2 btw lol)

“Well, twenty-five just makes ya a delinquent… you ain’t a ‘juvenile’ then, man, it don’t got the same ring to it, ya know?” Steve muttered. < Damn, this is SUCH A GOOD LINE. It’s so real, yk? Like I know I personally get swept up in the fantasy of it all- of greasers and JDs and the adrenaline of teen rebellion- but someday (pretty soon now) I’ll grow up. And then it won’t be so fun anymore. For all the lousy stuff that comes with it, it’s fun bein a kid- But when I’m an adult I won’t be a cool rebel for pulling the shit I do now, I’ll just be sort of a loser. I dunno how to process that sometimes. But it’s nice seeing all that confusion put into words as succinctly as you did.

Was that it? Their only two options? Lose your life or your identity? Die young, hard and fast — just like everyone’s waiting for. Or grow up and watch your denim collar turn blue. <Ugh again this is painfully real. You capture the feelings of being a sorta wild teenager so damn well. And the line about denim collars turning blue is so like…poetic too. It’s real and also real pretty, yk?

Steve had never been particularly fond of the idea of aging, but he didn’t want to be a bum like Two-bit or a con like the Brumly boys. He realized when morning came, none of them would mention tonight. Not how it really was. <This is such a sad but significant insight. Both bits are- Steve’s acknowledgement of the fact that the future is coming, and the point that no one would talk about tonight- or at least not the real, raw, tragedy of it. You just don’t DO that, especially not as a group of teenage guys in the 60s, but even nowadays you don’t, least in my groups. And how can you? How can you make sense of that, of seeing something so gruesome and being so helpless…holy hell, I guess what I’m getting at is that this was a real observant point.

Their tears would be buried alongside their friends, and they’d come to accept some twisted narrative that served to make them feel better, instead. That’s what he’d do; make it about justice rather than loss. Feed his anger into some kind of action. He’d always been better with his hands than his words. <man I sound like a broken record here, but this is so real. I don’t like how true this rings. But like I do, yk? And god, it feels like so much of a STEVE thing to think, and a Steve way of saying it. You’ve really nailed his voice.

Anyhow, sorry for takin’ a minute to comment- after ao3 deleted the vast majority of my last one I couldn’t bring myself to type up anything substantial for a bit- but I needed to get it out at some point, because this is such an amazing fic. This bit of commentary just scratches the surface, because there’s so much I love here. Once again, great job.

Ahhhhhhh thank you, I honestly love this so much. Taking the time to point out these little details and things you relate to. It’s djsjsnsms glad people notice this stuff you know?

Not to make you have a comment get deleted on ao3 again but would love to hear chapter 3 thoughts or anything else you want about the fic lol. Love your insight.

—

I get that. I tend to romanticize the rebellious, both teen and adult. Idk maybe it’s because I’ve had a comfortable life and all but there’s also so much to go through and experience.

I’m glad this line is getting attention as I was really excited about being all poetic too! Lol, it seemed like the most expressive way to put it without having to over explain, I can’t even begin to imagine having to grapple with putting up such a distinct identity… though I imagine you’d have to pry the vest from Steve’s cold dead hands but we’re talking metaphorical.

Steve and the brand of masculinity all the guys are seeped in is such a fucking interesting thing to explore. Because there’s simultaneously so much fun with all the “boys will be boys” of it all but also… oh… you don’t know how to feel hard emotions in a healthy way.

Also just Steve has grown on me so much and I think it’s really being in his head and it’s he’s more than the best buddy and he has his place in the friend group. His loyalty and sensitivity may compare him to others in the gang but what’s great about him and them is that there’s other aspects that make even those emotions distinct to them.

[radiant-reid]

Eleventh Hour

Summary: Spencer's about to move across the country, until his ex-girlfriend gives him some news

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (angst then fluff)

Word Count: 2.1k

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This is not how it's supposed to go.

Or maybe it is.

College relationships are tricky, tumultuous, and the tangling of lives of two changing people. Although it makes her seem cliche, Y/n thought Spencer was different, and she would stick with that opinion to the end. He was wiser than any other college boy and more mature.

Whether they are the right people for each other or not, it's not the right time.

Their breakup wasn't sad, per se. They're both realists for the most part, and ending their relationship was on the horizon for a while. In the final semester of her senior year and Spencer's last semester of all his years of degree-collecting, their lives are about to go in such different ways that being together will cause more problems, making them sacrifice parts of their lives they don't want to.

So it's uncomplicated and much more pragmatic.

But a dangerous touch of hope comes with being a romantic. Those feelings make it hard to hand back each other's things, tell their friends and families, and sleep alone again.

Spencer's realism and romanticism work inversely, the former getting stronger as the latter gets weaker. It's why he never expected her to call.

Now he's sitting in front of her, frowning because something's really wrong. She hadn't looked so distraught when they broke up, but tears prick her eyes while her stomach threatens to evict her lunch.

"What's wrong?" He asks. He would never be able to stop caring about her, and he figures it would take a monster to not care about her after speaking to her just once. It could be about her mom or dad or a friend.

Y/n knew she had to tell him when she found out. Morally, it was the right thing to do, and Spencer deserves to know. Just because it was an easy choice to make doesn't make it easy to do. As soon as she tells him, everything changes between them again. They've gone from strangers to lovers to strangers, and now they're going to be something else. Whatever they're going to be, it's up to Spencer, and there's going to be very little she can do to change his mind about how he feels for her.

She keeps playing with her fingers in her lap, failing to reach the threshold of confidence needed to look at him. "This is... shit- I don't even know how to tell you this, Spence." She admits, heart pounding in her chest.

That makes Spencer even more puzzled. What could she really need to tell him a month post-breakup that was so life-changing. "It's okay." He assures her.

He's back to that old shyness she used to find endearing. She knows it because she can see his itching and resisting to touch her hand. "I'm pregnant." She confesses, biting her bottom lip.

"You're what?" He spits back.

Yeah, it was life-changing news. Earth-shattering.

He's spiraling like he never has before because, holy shit, it's news that he's never heard before. It's news he didn't expect to hear ever, honestly. And not from her, that's for sure.

"Pregnant." She repeats, so it'll sink in quicker. "And I'm sorry."

"It's not your...fault." He tells her, although he doesn't seem genuine.

There's upset in his features, and against her better judgment, she pushes it. "What are you thinking?"

"That I don't want a baby." He snaps, standing up as the realization hits him like a freight train.

It catches her off guard. Majorly. Spencer never, ever speaks to anyone in a tone that short, let alone her. And it makes her want to cry because she needs someone. She had hoped it would be him. Whether it's the new hormones or him being in front of her again, there's a longing for the connection they walked away from.

Her inner romantic wanted him to jump at the chance to have a baby with her, promise they could work things out, and the immense love she's been feeling for him wasn't one-sided.

"Y/n, I can't have a baby. I'm about to move across the country tomorrow." He declares.

It's categorically cold, just factual. That makes it the most heartbreaking.

She actually can't believe what she's hearing. They're young and not together, but she thought he might care a little bit more about the baby that's 50% him and growing inside her. Maybe he isn't as different as she hoped.

"That's why you broke up with me?" She asks, tears clouding her vision.

He doesn't do what she expects, and she's starting to think it's downright stupid that she ever thought he'd wrap his arms around her until she stopped crying. And why is she crying all the goddamn time now?

"Don't do that." He says sternly. "It was mutual."

"It's not now." She informs him, wiping up her tears angrily.

Spencer stops for a moment, taking a breath to avoid saying something he can't take back, something that might ruin his chance at ever getting to meet his child.

"We can't get back together just because we're having a baby." He reminds her. "You have to know that."

Y/n bites her lip, nodding. "Yeah. So this is just me telling you. We can forget everything else."

He's not sure he wants to do that now that she's being so upfront about it, but he's not going to be that contradictory. "Thanks." He whispers. "Whatever you need, let me know. Not that-"

She cuts him off, getting up from the couch and opening the door. One thing- along with the fact he doesn't want to be part of their lives- that she didn't want to hear about is him pledging money, thinking it's the same thing as love or time. "I know." She says, somehow able to get her following words out without crying. "Call me if you ever want to meet an adorable baby."

That makes it real, and his stomach flips in a new but not terrible way. Once she shuts the door on him, he stands there on her apartment step for a whole minute, wondering if he should go back and fix the fuck-up he's just created.

There's not much more crying Y/n can do. She's got a plan, a job lined up for once she gets a degree, and friends who love her. Her baby won't have a dad, though, because she'll never be able to love and trust someone like she does Spencer.

~

Unless someone has taken Spencer's phone, he's calling her early that morning. Something compels her to answer. "This isn't sending the right message." She answers the call, joking to relieve the tension from her major confession less than 12 hours ago.

"I need to send a different message." He confesses, confusing her. She's not going to let herself believe it's good until there's no doubt. "Can you meet me?"

"On this coast." She agrees. It's for her baby, she reminds herself. A baby who deserves a dad, even if he breaks their mom's heart.

"My apartment?" He suggests.

She sighs, resisting the urge to sob about the place she used to spend so much time at. "I can't. Not when your stuff is packed up."

"Some of it's yours." He tells her. "But I can come to you."

That's worse, she decides. She can't have a replay of last night. His apartment will look generic without any mementos in it.

"No, I'll come to you." She decides. "Soon?"

"Whenever you're ready." He assures her, bouncing his knees up and down nervously.

She's not sure what she's doing, and she knows she's dumb for fixing her hair and putting on makeup, but she does it anyway. Then she's out the door before she can rethink her poor decision.

"Coffee?" Spencer offers once she walks in and takes off her shoes.

The walls are bare, and there are no books in the bookcase. It's not Spencer at all which doesn't make her feel better.

Y/n shakes her head. "I can't."

"Fuck, right. Sorry." He stammers out his words. "Do you want to sit?"

She doesn't know what she's doing there, so she nods, sitting down on a couch they'd fucked on so many times it wasn't appropriate. He doesn't follow suit. "Why am I here, Spencer?" She asks.

He snaps out of the trance he's in. "Oh, yeah. Hold on." He requests, walking off before she can ask any more questions.

Every second he's away, she gets more and more in her head until that feeling of wanting to be sick is too overwhelming. "I, uh, should go, you know? I'm sure you've got stuff to do." She fails for an excuse, but she knows she has to get out of there before she's in tears on his couch, looking even more pathetic than she does now.

"Please." Spencer walks back into the room with a box. A box with yellow and white horizontal stripes on it that she's sure is new. "Can you just open this?"

"The person going away doesn't give the gift." She shakes her head, rejecting the gift. "Don't make this hard for me."

His heart breaks seeing her trying not to cry, the sweetest person he knows who thinks he's running away. "Please."

Those fucking puppy dog eyes. She takes the lid off the box cautiously because she's terrified and takes out the contents. A baby onesie with an FBI logo on it. It's the first onesie she's ever held, and it has her crying.

"What are you doing?" She asks between tears.

"Trying to stop making decisions that'll ruin my life." He tells her, sitting on the ottoman in front of her. "Like I did a month ago."

She frowns. "Yeah?"

"Oh my god, yes." He assures her, crying a little himself. He's feeling the pressure because he cannot mess this apology up. "Y/n, I should have fought to be with you because you're worth fighting for. You always will be. I shouldn't have let you go then, and I will do anything it takes for you to not walk now."

"You're not getting on a plane?" She recalls what he said before, safeguarding her heart.

He shakes his head. "Not today. And not ever if you don't want me to." He informs her.

She's honestly gobsmacked with so many questions in her mind and no idea what order to ask them. "I want this baby." She mumbles, unsure about if it's going to put him off.

"I'm terrified." He confesses. "My dad was... lousy, at best, so I don't know how to be a father, but I'll learn. I'll read every book there is." He promises. "I acted like an asshole, and I'm so sorry. I got that." He nods to the onesie she's gripping tightly. "Because I promise I will do anything to be in your and the baby's life."

"Is this a hint?" She wonders, reading over the logo.

Spencer chuckles, nodding. "Not very subtle." He admits. "I'm supposed to be going to live in DC and work at the Behavioural Analysis Unit in Quantico, but I'll quit before I even start to stay here if that's what you want to do."

She thinks it over for a moment, but the decision is pretty easy. Sure, Spencer can get a job anywhere with his brains and degrees, but he wants to help people. "Let's do it." She agrees, smile widening.

"Do what?" He asks, caught off guard.

"I can't be without you." She tells him, reaching out to touch his hand softly, testing the boundary. "I've tried, and it's the worst. I want you in my life. Let's move to DC."

"We don't have to." He reminds her quickly.

She shakes her head. "We can have a fresh start." She reminds him. "We're following these dreams together as a team."

Spencer leans forward to cup her cheeks, wiping up her tears. "I'll do anything to make it up to you." He promises.

"Pack my stuff." She jokes, feeling his breath on her face as he laughs with her.

"Can I kiss you now?" He asks desperately, earning a nod from Y/n. He dives in quickly, missing feeling so close to her. His lips are gentle on hers, like he's worried about breaking her. When he pulls back, he nods at the box. "Finish opening it." He suggests.

She does, crying a little again when she sees the teeny tiny converse and teddy bears. "This is perfect." She mumbles.

He beams at the praise and her. "You're perfect. I'm just lucky."

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[suusoh]

Something something Johan slowly warming up to sex because of the implications of entering you something something bodies merging something something the last frontier of physical intimacy even if it doesn’t do much for him physically initially.

Words are not my forte but like before he figures out he enjoys putting his pp in you it might appeal to him just for the connotations of “entering” the person he loves/wants to possess. And then maybe he figures out he enjoys the physical sensation as well.

I imagine this slow progression from your post about the reader getting horny to him losing his shit about getting horny then once he’s done freaking out he still hates the fact that he’s horny. But the unexpected erections allow a very small little idea about fucking you, which he ignores for a while. But then the idea of that makes him consider the act of penetration and the implications, maybe reading/consuming content about it which describes its appeal. And little by little romanticizing it not in the normal way someone would, but in the “i have access to every part of you, every crevice” “this is as close as we can physically get” way idk if you get what i mean but. While the horror of being horny doesn’t go away, he gets a little bit, slowly, tempted to try it.

Looking at it not through the lens of pleasure, but his weird little tendency to blur the lines between himself and the people he loves which he (obviously) already does in terms of identity, but wow with you (and the power of his new dick-hardening ability haha kill me) he can do it physically. It’s not the same as the “we’re literally the same person” thing but there’s smth there idkkk i can’t describe my thoughts well. Anyway that way he can justify consider the act without admitting the extent of his humanity or stuff.

uh-huh! Once he gets over his somewhat aversion to it, and once he's accepted his attraction with you mentally, emotionally, sexually, and finally— physical manifestations of those attractions (as much as he loathes the fact that he's experiencing it) he'd still be interested, with feeling this for the first time with you. I think after a loooooooooooooonnnggg long long long while of finally getting over his view, he'd just let his sexual frustration boil over and finally go to you and be like "please help me with this condition of mine". (said condition just being his pp going hard, but johan treats it like it's some disease lmao).

I think a part of him is like still reeling and hating himself for letting himself get this like.... low?? I don't want to say low but like, it's like definitely a fall from grace from his perfect, non-human, "untouchable being" state.

But another part is overwhelmed and overheating and melting in the inside from just how... how good this feels. It feels so good, too good. it makes him feel... real again for some reason. Like everything around him, your body, the air, the room, the whole world is suddenly so tangible, and it's like he's seeing how beautiful you are to him all over again, and shit he should be thankful— wait why is he feeling thankful? whatever, he is thankful that he's here with you and you're here with him and he's doing this human experience with you, and holy shit holy shit holy shitshit shit shit is it supposed to feel this good? God.... if this is what being human feels like, he doesn't think he could ever return to being a nameless monster again.

[romana-after-dark]

Room's on Fire: If You Could Read My Mind

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader

Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader

Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader

Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Jonah tries to tell Madonna the truth.

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.

Extra warnings for chapter: General Madonna distress, mentions of what Ben does to Iris, what Beatriz did to Jonah and Frankie, both of whom were 19.

3.3k words (so sorry)

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"If I could read your mind, love What a tale your thoughts could tell Just like a paperback novel The kind the drugstore sells When you reach the part where the heartaches come The hero would be me But heroes often fail" ~If You Could Read My Mind, Gordon Lightfoot

Jonah POV btw for this lyric

“OW!” You hiss in pain, gripping Francisco’s hand as Will removed your bandages. It was getting easier every time, but still hurt. There are a few bite marks on Ben’s arm still from the first few times, Benny letting her bite down on him instead of clenching her teeth. Babies take up a lot of your calcium, making your teeth more at risk for chips and breakage.

“I know, I know, you’re doing so good princess. Doing amazing.” Will soothes you as he cleans up, following the routine you’ve come to know. Your whole left side was burned up pretty badly from your dress catching on fire, but the worst was your arm where Pope pinned you down directly on a flame. You wondered if he got burned, if his hands bore the scars of his sins. You haven't seen him. Or Rey, Iris or Jonah for that matter, not since last week when it happened. Will said it was to maintain a sterile environment; he, Ben and Frankie all showered and wore fresh, unscented clothes, every single time. Will changed your sheets, and you were kept naked most of the time so as to not have anything irritating the skin. Bandages wrapped around your chest anyway. 

Will informs you that he’s going to keep the bandages off you for a few hours while he gets suited for his new armor, letting the wounds breath and instructing you can’t be moving too much. Baely registering it all, you agree, mindlessly. The days were all blurring together at this point, long hours in bed, Ben Will and Francisco by your side at all times. Will slept on your left side, Ben and Francisco snuggled each other on your right. No sign of Pope. No mention of him, even. No apology… why would a God apologize to a mortal, part of your mind would argue… but hours and hours of laying in bed led you to think. And think. And think. 

Whose is to say you were mortal? Surely, you were not divine mother’s status, nor Pope, but you were the Madonna, a holy woman. They worshiped you, didn’t they? Will had ordered your portrait displayed in the temple as well and many  had your picture in their homes. When you went to children’s blessings at the schools and dormitories, they knelt to you. 

You were divine, were you not? Maybe you were a God as well, Godhood being bestowed on you for creating the savior. Who was Pope to make these choices for you, to burn your reprieve, to destroy the things you love and harm your body in such a way… He claimed no more painting, the painting could harm the savior, but he burned you so severely, William had been mentally preparing you for the possibility of a miscarriage. You hadn’t your child was safe it seemed… but how could Pope take that risk?

“I have to go now, my beloved.” Will stood from where he knelt, applying aloe and silver gel to your wounds.

You look up at him, whimpering from the aftershocks of the pain. You’d been given some higher doses of painkillers to get you through; stress wasn’t good for the baby, but neither were a lot of medication. It was a balance. “Don’t go, please?” 

Will had been your caretaker during all this, nursing you back to health with gentle and capable hands and assuring you that they were safe.

Francisco was your comfort, forehead kisses and reading you books to pass the time and holding the safe parts of you, eyes sad with worry.

Benjamin was your delight, bringing you Iris’s food, making you laugh and smile, beginning you with stories from before you had joined them, before you were even born.

Pope was who you saw burning in your nightmares.

Will kisses your cheek. “I know, but I won’t be long. Benny will be back before Frankie leaves, you won’t be alone. Rey is just outside.” He was so close, you wondered if you could talk to him… but after Pope’s accusation you were sleeping with him and Jonah, you didn’t wanna risk it. You weren’t really sure why Rey was guarding, honestly. The thing you feared most was Pope, and Rey couldn’t prevent him from coming in. You didn’t want him to try. He’d be dead.

You nod. “Okay… I’ll be here. Schedule is a little light today.” You joke, bringing a smile to his face.

“Good girl. Frankie, watch out for our princess and our baby. Anything changes, have Saha get me. I won’t be far.”

Frankie nods as Will gives him a goodbye kiss. Things had been… charged, this week. Sometimes you woke to the sound of muffled grunts, and for a moment you’d think it was the succubus again, but nothing touched you. You assumed they were getting each other off. Benny and Francisco were attached at the hip again, quite literally, and that made you happy.

You hear arguing outside, and all three of your heads snap towards the door. Rey and Pope.

Will is quick with his movements as Francisco squeezes your hand reassuringly, pulling a sheet over you to protect your limited modesty, although everyone in this household has seen you naked at this point. “I won’t let him hurt you, Madonna” He whispers in your ear, aiding you to sit up against the pillows, Will opening the door. 

“Get the hell off him!” Will bellows, and you quickly turn to Francisco. If Rey got hurt because of you, you could never forgive yourself.

“He wouldn’t let me in, he can’t defy my orders!” 

“He was following my orders, he’s my guardman, you don’t get to-”

“I AM YOUR GOD!”

“YOU ARE NOT ABOVE ME!” Voices are raised, and Will leaves the doorway, slamming Pope against the hall wall by his throat. You scream, Francisco pulling you closer, and when you look out the door you catch a glimpse of rey. He looked tired, his beard overgrown and his eyes baring dark circles. His long hair needed a brush.

Will continued. “If I remember correctly, Beatriz knocked you down to my level because you were too chicken shit to be the savior.” His tone was dark, hot breath against Pope’s face. “I’m happy to let you lead Delta, because that’s your department. But mine is the guardsmen and you can keep your fat fuck’n fingers off my men.”

There was quiet for a moment, in distinct whispering that you couldn’t understand. Then, Pope walked into the room. 

You whimper, clinging to your lover as he calls “Will?”

“Let him talk.” Will grumbles, scratching his beard. “He can’t hurt’er. Just let him talk. Told him he better be gone by the time Ben’s back, or we’ll have a problem.” He shot Pope a warning stare, then left for the armory. The door closes behind you, shutting you away from Rey.

Pope turned to Francisco first. “Leave.”

You expected Francisco to obey his husband, his leader, his brother… Instead. He gripped your hand tighter. It was shaking. “No.”

*

Reyansh paced outside the door of your bedroom where he’d be parked, night and day. Jonah and Iris would have to drag him away, promising Jonah would guard so he could sleep… but Rey didnt really trust Jonah to protect her. Things have changed now, Jonah didn’t have a gun. No one did. But that didn’t change the fact when Jonah had a gun, he never used it. Jonah was a coward, to scared to disrupt the staus quo for fear of fucking up more than he did before.

And that was a lot.

Pope exited the room, and Rey straightened up, glaring hard at him.

Pope glared right back. “Your days are numbered, Saha. Watch your fucking mouth before I show you why your whore girlfriend jumps at loud noises.”

He was going to kill him. He was going to wring Santiago’s stupid fucking neck and make him suffer for everything he did to Iris and you. He would. He just needed a fucking plan.

Watching Santiago walk off made him feel sick.

But watching Jonah walk toward your room gave him a headache.

“Jonah, now isn’t a good time.”

“It’s been a week.” He pushed past Rey, going for the door.

It hadn’t been relocked, and Jonah and Rey stumbled in after fighting for the handle. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, he’s leaving.” Rey tries to push Jonah out, apologizing to her and Francisco, hoping Ben doesn’t see. But you say it’s okay.

*

Jonah watches you, a thin sheet lightly covering your naked body. He tries to push the memories of it out of his head, remembering what you looked like, sobbing in pain, your skin burnt. 

“Hi.” Your soft voice breaks him out of his thoughts, looking at the way Frankie protectively holds you. Frankie had been completely distrought when he found out what happened, when Jonah road out to where he found Ben and Frankie fucking. It didn’t matter, and it had been far from the first time he’d seen any of them naked. The sex parties and orgies Francisco had been stepping away required guards too. You didn’t know about all that either, but he didn’t think you needed too today. There was more important information.

“Hey… honey I need to be honest with you.” Jonah sighs, scrubbing his face and trying to keep his cool. “I need to be honest about everything, every lie you’d been told about this fuck’n place, your dad-”

Frankie interrupted. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jonah. She needs to rest.”

You turn your head to him, brows pinched together in a frown. “What? No, no I wanna know. You’ve lied to me?” 

“No, no Madonna it’s just… there's so much history in this house… You’ve had quite a scare, you just talked to santi-”

He turned back to the girl who has become like his daughter. “You talked to Santi?”

Jonah watches as you swallow deeply. “Yeah he um… He apologized…”

Frankie turned to you. “He did not, he talked circles around the subject until you were too confused to argue.”

“I know what he meant!” You looked back to Jonah. “And it’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

At that, Jonah groaned loudly, tugging at his hair as he began pacing the room. This was bad. You were so fucking brainwashed it was insane. “Honey, he’s fucking insane! He burned you! He raped you!”

“That’s not what happened!”

“He killed your dad!”

“My dad was a traitor to my community-”

“MARCUS LOVED YOU!”

There was silence, a dead silence that was common in this house. The kind of silence that haunts you because you can’t help but hear voices of friends vanished and gone. She needed to know. 

“This place… Honey, it’s evil. There evil bred into every fiber of these walls and there's no escaping it. Violence, rape, murder, it all mark every step you could possibly take. There is nothing here that could ever give you a happy life. It would be better if this place had burned down when the rebellion happened, let us all die… That’s why your dad wanted things to change.”

“Jonah.” Frankie pleaded. “Not now.”

But if not now, when? He looked at you, and you only.

“Your dad worked with Tom, that much is true. Marcus had a big part in planning the assassination but… so did I.” He watched your eyes get wider, your mouth more agape. “Marcus and I were friends, close friends… real close, we uh… we worked together pretty much every day, spent a lot of time talk’n ‘bout our daughters… I remember when he found you, actually…starving little thing, vultures flying above you ready for you to die… he was in love, instantly. He’d do anything to protect you, so when Tom came to him with the plan to overthrow the Garcia’s, he was in. He was the one who came to me about it, knew I wanted a better life for Iris.”

You blink. “But… you were the head of the guard… why would they doubt your loyalty?”

This was the hard part, the humiliating part. The part no one but Marcus and Frankie had known before, not even Iris. He could never tell her this. “I was… a consort, to Beatriz.” That part many knew, anyone higher up in the ranks knew that. What they didn’t know was he didn’t want it. “But I didn’t ask for that. I didn’t want it. I was. I was 19 when it started, Iris wasn’t even born yet and… I was just a kid, ya know? I didn’t know how to say no, I couldn’t say no to the most powerful person I knew, especially with my wife encouraging me… She thought it would mean special blessings on her and the baby in her but… Beatriz tried to have them both killed in childbirth. I’m lucky Iris survived.” He could hear his voice beginning to crack, so he moved on.

“I hated her. I hated her so fucking much for what she did to me…”

“And to me.” Frankie spoke, voice soft and barely audible, but the girl turned to him with tears in her eyes. 

“Francisco?”

He nodded. “Started when I was 19 too. She raised me… then started… that.”

Jonah continued. “She needed to die, honey. I know it’s a lot right now, but that bitch was batshit insane and no, she was no God. Neither are you husbands.”

Your face turns back to him, hardened. “Don’t say that.”

Glancing at Frankie, he knew this wasn’t the time to talk about that. Not yet. Focus.  Deprogramming took time. They had an opening, although certainly he was sickened at what happened to her, it did offer them a chance. 

“Tom planted Delilah with Will. He knew his type, and Delilah played the sweet, submissive girl well. She was… beautiful. She knew what she was doing. But I guess Will wasn’t the only one she was told to seduce.”

You nodded slightly. “Will told me…”

Of course he did. “I don’t know what he told you, but I loved her.”

“She was engaged.”

You couldn’t see the nuance. You couldn’t see that Will was a horrible person, that he didn’t deserve your sweet love, he didn’t deserve Delilah, that Delilah didn’t love Will… but she didn’t love him, either. She’d been sleeping with Tom the whole time. Part of Jonah still thought she loved him… but he was also aware Delilah wasn’t just a plant for Will, but for him. 

“She… convinced me, to join Tom. Whatever you think of my choice doesn’t really matter-”

“But it does!” Your eyes welled with tears, and unfamiliar anger on your face. “It does matter because it changed how I think about you, Jonah! I love you!” You sit up further, but cry out in pain. Your skin is still pulled tight from the scaring. Frankie hushes you gently, laying you down and keeping your skin covered as you breathe through the pain. Jonah walks to the otherside of the bed where you face, but Frankie speaks again.

“I really need you to go. This too much for her, she’s fragile right now-”

“I’m not fucking fragile!” You shout, surprising them both.

Jonah tries to get through to you, his voice pleading with her to understand. “You see the worst in everyone who your husbands deem the enemy, without question, without second thought-”

“I trust them!”

“You should trust yourself!”

Frankie barks at him to not yell at her, but Jonah ignores him, kneeling by your side and cupping your wet face in his hands. “Look inside yourself. This anxiety you have? It’s your intuition, it’s your gut screaming at you to get out, you aren’t safe! Marcus died trying to give you freedom, freedom you threw away!”

“I had no choice!”

“Exactly!” A small window. He took it, trying too hard to not hurt your face as he held it but keeping you focussed on him, not Frankie trying to break you away. “Exactly! How can it be love if you don’t have a choice?  Your father wanted to give you that-”

“Don’t talk about him!”

You were in hysterics now, snot and tears pouring down your face as you sobbed but he needed you to remember, pressing his forehead to yours. “Remember your father! Remember the tea parties and making ice cream in a bag! Remember the story times and playing horsey and pretending to fall asleep just so he’d carry you to bed! You have to remember how much he loved you or you’ll never get out of this alive!”

Jonah was thrown back, the hand fisted in his shirt throwing him into the side table. The vase full of flowers Frankie picked shattered on the ground. He head throbbed, but when he looked down his hand was bleeding. He hadn’t even noticed Frankie getting out of the bed, approaching him until Frankie threw Jonah away from his wife.

“What is wrong with you!” Frankie shouted. “She’s pregnant, she’s got half her body burned, are you trying to make her miscarry?”

“No! She needs to know the truth!”

“I can’t trust you! I can’t trust someone who sleeps with another man’s wife! Where are your boundaries, what kind of code do you have if you do that?”

Jonah groaned, not just in pain but frustration. “It wasn’t like that, it wasn’t about lust, I loved her, it was complicated-”

“Is that what Iris says when she sleeps with my husband?”

Now, yes, Jonah’s head hurts. He was disoriented. But he was sure he heard you right. Pausing, he looks up at you from the floor to where you sat up on the bed. Jonah sat up straighter as well. “What did you just say?”

Your face is angry, furious even. You don’t look like yourself but that’s good. He wants to break you out of the submissive good wife role you’ve been playing. “Yeah, your daughter is cheating on sweet, precious Rey!” You whisper harshly. Rey doesn’t know. Of course he doesn’t, because this isn’t cheating. Iris isn’t a cheater, and she hates Ben. Benjamin Miller is raping his daughter. “I walked in on them. Guess it runs in the family.” Cheating doesn’t. Being sexually abused by this fucked up cult apparently does.

Jonah gets up, determination on his face as he ignores you, ignores Frankie, and ignores Reyansh calling after him, asking what happened. He doesn’t know. If he knew, he wouldn’t just be sitting there. If he knew, he’d try to kill Ben and end up dead. He wasn’t risking Rey’s life like that, not when Iris needed him. Iris didn’t need Jonah, he was fucking useless to her… but he could make this right.

He was going to the armory, and he was going to kill Ben.

*

When Ben entered your bedchambers, it was clear you had been crying, body occasionally shaking as you took in a hiccuped breath but otherwise dead stared at the wall.  Frankie held your naked body as best he could without harming your wounds even more.

“What the hell happened now?” 

Frankie watched as he rushed to your side. What happened happened? Santi came to fuck with her brain again. Jonah made it worse. You can’t handle the vast amount of information that’s been presented to you the last… well… week. You aren’t talking, you've completely check out. He turned to Ben. 

“Santi came and… apologized. It’s been a lot for her…”

Ben gave a look of understanding, carefully brushing hair out of your face as he crawled into bed with Frankie. When he snuggled up next to him, Frankie could feel his hard on. “Well, that’s good. He didn’t mean to hurt you, he just cares a lot. You know how he gets. God of passion, all that.” 

Frankie could smell the sex on him. He could smell Santi on him. He pretended not to.

UH OH SPAGETTI OH'S

WERE SO BACK

So sorry it's been 5 ever, been v busy with my pride event. If you're interested in a trans reader and lots of LGBT rep (bi tess, Lesbian oc, Bill and Frank happy and in love) come read about a girl!

Thank you all for your patience!!! big thanks to Ciara for always hyping this story and thank you to Winnie for editing!!

Im so excited to hear your thoughts!!!

Did Jonah push Madonna too hard? How about Frankie standing up to Santi, even if its a small way by refusing to leave Madonna alone with him?

Poll Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh oh no oh shit oh fuck

I have absolutly NOT forgotten. About Palestine, however, I’ve had a couple of y’all. Let me know that you donated to doctors without borders for Palestine and I wanted to use my. I’ll be at limited platform to try and spread a bit of awareness. It may be raise a little bit of money for, another cause.

Save the children (which has absolutely nothing to do with QAnon who hijacked their hashtag) our currently supporting relief efforts in the Congo above our listed some quick facts that I hope you’ll take a moment to read, and if you can afford it, please consider making a donation. I have made a small one, but if we band together small donations make a difference

LOVE YOU ALL!

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